#I got the other two too but this seemed like the only one you needed any response on

[zevrra]

[𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬.⋆˚࿔]

synop: some drabbles, first kisses & how they’d go with my fav arcane men!

ft. gn!reader, jayce, viktor, & vander

a/n: should i flesh any of these out? >:3

(this is sfw but slightly suggestive w/ a lil angst)

𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐂𝐄

— is the type that once he gets a taste, he doesn’t want to stop.

his hazel eyes glance down at your lips and they linger for a long moment, full of want and need as he debates on kissing you; can see the gears turning inside his head. until jayce realizes he’s staring for a little longer than he should and breaks out in a little embarrassed smile, flashing his fangs and that cute little gap in his teeth. “sorry…” he apologizes, ripping his eyes back up to yours.

“it’s okay.” you whisper; as if you were any better than he was, staring at his tilted lips. craving and wanting him with so much tension, it could surely be cut with a knife.

jayce chuckles nervously under his breath but leans forward despite his hesitation, pushing aside any and all of his worries, as he presses his lips gently against yours. it’s a small, soft peck of a kiss; just enough for him to get a sweet taste of you. he leans back a little then, eyes hazy as if he’s become intoxicated with just one kiss. and before either of you can voice an opinion on your first kiss, jayce is eagerly moving on.

“one more.” he mutters, seeking your lips again. he plants a firm kiss against you this time. his breathing is quickly turning into wild rasps as he presses his lips again and again into yours. his hand are roaming along every inch of your body. fingers grasping at your thighs, digging gently into your skin, smoothing across your waist, tugging you into his own lap while his lips continue to find yours.

he whispers countless of pleas and begs of just “one more” between each kiss until they’re no longer just quick pecks and evolve into fuller, far more passionate kisses. one giant hand runs up your thigh again while his other moves to hook around the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. “taste so good.” jayce whispers just as his tongue runs along your bottom lip.

“more.” he mutters across your reddening lips. “please need a little more…” he adds in a huff, waiting for you to give him the green light.

he’s got your head spinning in circles; breathless while your lips still tingle from his desperate make out. your face burns with a drunken blush from the kiss and you’re not entirely sure if you can find the right words to say, so instead you capture his lips now.

and it’s the only answer he needs before he’s desperately sweeping you back into a passionate make out session.

𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐑

— is the type who kisses you by total accident one day and then flees.

it had just been you and viktor in the lab together for days on end. the two of you had worked through countless of formula errors, spent every sleepless night together, drank enough coffee that it could replace every ounce of water in your body; and yet you two enjoyed it more than anything. you laughed, brainstormed, and have come closer than you’ve ever had before.

it was…a little obvious that you liked viktor, well to your knowledge it was but not so much to viktor; or so it seemed.

“you’ve done it!” you exclaim, excitement creeping into your voice as you stand from your chair as vik does the same. you crowd over vik’s shoulder to get a better look at the smooth, luminous glass ball, eyes wide open as you stare at the stabilized hex crystal before you. “you’ve actually done it!”

“no,” vik speaks, ripping off his goggles as he stares up at you. “i could not have done this without you. you’ve contributed so much! we did it.” he adds before tossing his goggles off to the side. he quickly tries to gather any paperwork and journal entries the two of you had written in the last few days; eager to rush off and show his work to heimerdinger and the council. and he says little else, too excited to show off his breakthrough, pocketing the hex crystal as he hurries for the lab door.

in his flurry, he forgets a very important piece of paperwork. you grab it, turning towards the door to the lab where viktor had started heading off towards to, waving it in the air before vik can get too far. “viktor! you forgot something!”

vik stops just at the door and spins on his heel to come hurriedly back to you. but instead of taking the note and continuing on his journey to the council room, he’s instead closing the distance between you and him very quickly; quick enough you don’t have time to think, let alone react as vik is sweeping forward to press his lips fully into yours.

he kisses you then, passionate and full of just pure excitement for the things you two have managed to do. and the kiss is far more amazing than anything you could have imagined but it’s cut entirely too short when vik is suddenly realizing all too fast exactly what he’s done and breaking away. he backs up, damn near tripping over his own cane in his hurry, as he takes the paper right out of your hand. he mutters a goodbye and nothing else before he’s gone; just as quickly as he had kissed you.

you stand frozen, in humbled shock, debating if that had actually happened or not. but the warmth blooming across your lips and face is a dead giveaway that yes, it did in fact happen.

and you smile with the thought that this could be the start of something wonderful…and yet it’s only the start of viktor avoiding you at any cost.

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

— is the type to be a little embarrassed because of his age but really he’s been holding back for too long.

“you don’t really want this, do ya? i’m practically an old man now.” vander laughs from behind his bar top. he sips on the cheap whiskey he’s been drinking the entire night, glancing at you over the rim.

everyone else from the bar had gone home for the night but you had decided to stick around for a little bit longer; just for this. for him. you swirl your drink around inside your cup, glancing between the moving liquid and vander’s handsome face. you had been dropping hints for, god knows how long, that you wanted him, and now that it was just the two of you…you were willing to push your luck a little to get exactly what you wanted.

“mmm i know.” you respond, taking a sip off your own alcohol of choice that night. “that’s what i like about you though.” you add with a smirk.

your response only makes him laugh again, shaking his head. he pushes his cup out of the way and off to the side, most likely empty and definitely forgotten for the rest of the night, as he settles his hands on the edge of his bar. “that so?” he asks with a grin.

you nod, mirroring his grin right back at him. if you were given the chance sooner, you would’ve dragged him out of the bar two and a half hours ago.

“what if this old man can’t keep up with you?”

now it was your turn to chuckle as you crawl up onto the bar, sliding across the wood surface until you’re sitting pretty right between his settled hands. you move your legs to dangle on the other side of the counter, closing the gap as much as you can. “guess you’re just going to have to find out, hmm?” you respond, running a hand down the front of his broad chest.

while he’s still a little hesitant, it doesn’t take anymore convincing as soon as the distance is closed. his gaze is hungry, always has been, as he settles his eyes onto your pretty face. he’s sucking in a deep breath when the last bit of his resolve vanishes. and it’s his turn to close the gap now as he captures your lips in one swift movement. he’s feverishly kissing you, deep and full of yearning. gripping the edge of the bar like his life depends on it, keeping himself upright and from what you can only assume is to hold himself back just a tiny bit; didn’t want to scare you off with just how badly he wanted you too.

vander grunts against your lips, reaching with a large hand to caress the side of your neck, deepening the kiss with a swirl of his tongue meshing into your own before he’s huffing a deep breath and breaking off the kiss. he pants against your slowly swelling lips, still keeping himself close but far enough away you’d have to chase after his lips if you wanted anymore.

“gonna ask again, you sure about this?” vander mutters. and you can see it in his gray eyes, the want and the need he holds for you and how he’s holding himself back, just in case you may have changed your mind.

but that was impossible. you wanted him and only him. you roll your eyes at his slightly concerned tone of voice before you slide your arms up to lock around his neck. “i’m more than sure. now shut up and fucking kiss me.”

[wroetominter]

Three Peaks - George Clarke

Warnings: none, some swearing

Thank you for the request! I have some serious writers block right now so bear with as the time between posts may be a little longer. I appreciate you!

———

"I don't know how I got roped into this one" I adjusted the microphone I was securing to Chris' t-shirt. He chuckled, patting my shoulder as I finished.

"Well, there aren't many of you fit enough to actually climb three mountains so it was quite the easy choice." Chris said. I sighed, shaking my head. Mentally slapping myself for telling Chris casually that I enjoyed a good hike.

Chris had the thought for a video that honestly, I couldn't even make fun of. It was a really well thought out idea. A group of his friends and crew tackling the three peaks challenge. Which is essentially just climbing three mountains in 24 hours. Seems damn near impossible, especially considering the group he had.

I had been part of Chris' camera crew for almost a year now, and I felt like I had really found a good group of friends in this job. Outside of filming I had been hanging out with Chris and his core group frequently. Many nights spent out at different pubs, or simply hanging out at their flat.

"Let's get going shall we?" Chris began to lead the group. I stuck towards the middle, filming the boys who had taken the lead.

Reev, Chris, and George led the pack as we began the ascent to the top of our first mountain.

"I can already tell this is going to be fucking awful." I heard from behind me. I turned my head to see Arthur Hill beginning the days complaints.

"George you owe me a tenner!" Television shouted from beside him.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"I placed a bet that Hill would be the first to complain." Television explained. I threw my head back laughing, panning the camera to catch Hills reaction. He deadpanned and just stared at the camera.

"Don't worry Arthur, I'm not looking forward to this either."

Each boy had been given their own special challenge for the video, and I was really enjoying watching Reev attempt to put rocks in the boys shoes.

"What's your challenge?" I asked Chris as I caught up to him.

"I need to get someone to believe a fake fact about each mountain." He whispered to the camera.

"That feels alarmingly easy considering the group we're with." I said. He agreed and told me he was already scheming up his first lie to tell Arthur.

We had been climbing for close to two hours by this point, and we were nearing the peak.

"Enjoying yourself love?" George asked me as he took a seat on the rock next to me.

"It's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be, I'll be honest." I snacked on the apple slices I packed, offering one out to George.

We sat in a comfortable silence, watching the others as they bantered back and forth with each other.

I sat and admired George as he laughed, not being able to help myself from laughing along. He had an infectious laugh. Chris caught me staring at George and raised an eyebrow at me. He was the only one of the group who knew I had somewhat of a crush on George. I had unfortunately admitted it to him accidentally after one drink too many during a pub crawl.

We had all gotten up again to keep our pace going up the mountain. The terrain upwards wasn't too bad. The most annoying part by far was having to continue to film while simultaneously making sure I didn't fall down.

"I never thought this would end!" Arthur Hill screamed as we reached the peak.

"I'm sure you're used to hearing that in bed." Harry joked with him patting him on the back.

We all shared a laugh and took in the nice view. It wasn't long before we realized that 'huh, guess we just go down now' and begin to descend the mountain.

I trailed behind Chris and ArthurTV, catching some of their conversation as Chris tried to convince Arthur that some celebrity had been the first person to complete this challenge. I had to actively hold in a giggle as I knew Chris was having him on with his challenge.

During my distracted state, I felt myself slide to the side as my foot hit a loose rock that sent me falling down. Instinctively deciding to protect my camera, I took the full brunt of the fall to my hip and legs.

"Shit, are you alright?" George asked jogging to catch up to me.

Catching my breath after scaring myself with the fall, I nodded towards him. I turned my camera off and stuck it in its carrying bag beside me, examining my ankle.

It was fairly scraped up, and was slightly throbbing. Nothing that felt it would be too crazy but painful nonetheless.

A few of the others called out to see if I was okay. I gave them a thumbs up.

"I'll stay with her and help her down, you guys can go ahead we'll just be a few minutes." George called back to them.

"Does it hurt?" He asked me, grazing his fingertips over my ankle to assess.

"Not a ton, I think I was more shocked by the fall than anything. I'll be fine George, thank you for staying behind with me." I smiled at him, noting his features contorted with uncertainty at my words.

He stood up, holding his hands out for me to help me up. I happily grabbed them and put pressure on my ankle, feeling a tinge of pain but it was bearable.

I stood upright, George still holding onto my hands to make sure I was steady. He never took his eyes off of mine, scanning my face for any sign of pain.

"I'm good George, I promise." He smiled at me, squeezing my hands.

"I think it's time to reveal my challenge to you." His words took me by surprise as I had no idea where this topic had come from.

He let go of my hands, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a cue card similar to the other boys. He unfolded it and turned it towards me.

In small, easily recognizable handwriting I read off 'tell Y/n you have feelings for her you dumb twat'. Chris. Of course Chris would write that.

I looked back up to him, his face flushed from either embarrassment or anxiety, I couldn't tell.

"I assume what's written there is true?" I asked George, looking to him for confirmation. He nodded, sliding the paper back into his pocket.

We both stood there a little awkwardly for a moment, neither of us being particularly good at the whole admitting feelings thing.

"Your feelings are mutual." I said, cutting the silence. His eyes widened at me, a smile breaking on his features.

He put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer for a hug.

"How about we talk more about this over dinner once we’re done with the next two mountains?” He propositioned.

I groaned, “I forgot we still have two fucking mountains to go.” He laughed as I pouted.

He slid his hand up to my cheek, bringing his face closer to mine and connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss.

“This should give you something to look forward to” he said as he pulled away. It was my turn for my cheeks to turn pink. Despite how tired and sweaty we already were, he still looked absolutely perfect.

“I suppose I can make it through as long as you promise not to let me fall again.” He laughed.

“I’ll do my best.”

We walked downwards, eventually catching up with the others who had stopped for a water break.

“Finally you two made it! Began to think you two were shacking up up there!” ArthurTV exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at him, laughing.

“Not quite shacking up, but my challenge is complete.” George bragged, Chris’ head shot towards us at these words.

“No way.” He said, looking to me for confirmation.

“Yes way” I replied, George put his arm over my shoulder once again and we watched as the mental cogs turned in the other boys heads.

“Oh my god he finally got the balls to tell her!” Arthur Hill screamed, jumping around like a fangirl.

I looked to George who just shook his head in embarrassment. “Did everyone know except me?” I asked only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I knew then that the next two mountains would likely be sex jokes and embarrassing stories, and I was weirdly looking forward to it.

[etherealrin]

HI THIS IS MY FIRST ANON REQUEST FOR U U LOVE YOUR WRITING . I cant get out of my head this image of one of the blue lock additional time moments that shows that Rin is using a big ass tablet instead of a phone so i got delusional and started thinking abt Rin having an idol gf that he absolutely adores and during his breaks he watches her fancams and stuff and his roommates are like totally surprised that he is so whipped lmao😭

♬⋆.˚ she's my idol!

proplayer!rin spends so long on his ipad that his teammates start wondering what he's doing, or, rather, who he's watching...

warnings: none! // wc: 920

note: idol!reader, referred to as a girl. tysm to anon who reqed this, why are all of my anons straight genuises oml.

itoshi rin is a man who values and needs privacy. unfortunately for him, his roommates seemed to have no such sense of those ideologies. the tall white haired boy, nagi, left him alone mostly out of laziness, but man was he nosy. however, the other boy sharing the sleeping quarters of blue lock's top 6, yukimiya kenyu, was more of a problem. his friendly facade (rin was sure he had ulterior motives) drove rin insane.

"rin-kun, what'cha watching?" yukimiya would pop up behind him at the most exasperating and random times, and what bothered rin most was the fact that he couldn't sense his presence. as if a lanky six-foot-tall high schooler could be stealthy. it scared the living daylights out of rin. of course, he had his reasons for wishing to be left alone—especially while he was on his ipad—because there was personal information in it! he doesn't need his lukewarm roommates trying to friend him on his brawl stars account, he doesn't need them discovering his photo albums, and above all else, itoshi rin does not want them digging into his youtube account.

and so he spends his rare moments of rest curled upon his bed like a cat, earbuds shoved in to eliminate the ruckus produced by the other two. really, how could they conversate for so long about what kind of animal isagi looked like?

when he hits the search query for your youtube account and clicks into the most recent of hundreds of fancams, the rest of the world becomes oblivion; rin only has eyes for you in those moments. he thinks you look absolutely jaw-dropping in the most recent upload, as if you belonged on the cover of vogue (admittedly, he owns a few magazines with your face on the front.) you're performing on the weekly music show, as you always did whenever you released a new song. the comments are drowning in fans filled with adoration, gushing about your talent, your visuals, your vocals: truthfully it makes rin a little jealous. why were so many people trying to steal his beautiful girl? he's unaware of the soft smile tugging at his lips the entire time, a light pink dusting his cheeks, earning him curious glances from nagi and yukimiya (they're whispering amongst themselves, what could possibly be making itoshi rin smile?)

ir0809: you were amazing, love.

you grin when you see the notification from your laptop. it had been a tiring day of practice and fulfilling your schedule, but your boyfriend's little comments will always brighten your mood. you wished you could call him, but you understood how he had no way to. with your stardom rising each day and rin's soccer career so close to the international stage, it was best to keep your relationship under wraps as to avoid any scandals. it doesn't change the fact that you miss seeing his face every day though, blue lock had taken away those stolen moments between the two of you as well.

rin's spending a little too long watching your interview from yesterday with laser-sharp focus (you were sharing a "what's in my bag?" and he sees the keychain he won you hanging from it) when nagi and yukimiya just materialize from the back, peering at the tablet screen.

"wait, you're a fan of her too?" nagi asks lazily, a curious gleam set in his melange eyes.

"rin-kun, i didn't take you as the type to like idols," yukimiya starts. rin has to bite back a high pitched scream.

"what the hell are you two doing, spying on me like i'm some specimen?" he growls, pissed that they had found out. "and for your information, nagi, she's my girlfriend!" of course, he just had to let nagi know that you were taken, he couldn't stand the idea of the boy looking at you with those heart eyes as well!

"HUH?" a collective gasp rings out from the two boys.

"seriously?" nagi asks. "i need proof, then."

so rin begrudgingly digs out a small white box, and nagi's eyes only grow wider when he sees stacks upon stacks of polaroids, letters, photo strips—all evidence of the dates you've been on before. rin even keeps the tickets of movies you've seen together. he's so distracted that he doesn't notice yukimiya, who'd retreated to a corner and begun to type rather urgently at his phone.

yukimiya: guys come quickly, rin's dating that one viral idol.

otoya: actually?? ur jk.

yukimiya: i am NOT playing rn.

it's then when the door swings open and karasu, otoya, and shidou fall through the space, almost breaking the hinges.

"it's true? rin-rin's whipped for some idol?" shidou teases, winking at rin. otoya eyes the box as well.

"there's no way you scored a baddie like her," the boy with green bangs groans in disbelief. "and i like her content too!" karasu only hollers in agreement, lightly hitting rin on the back.

rin's cheeks are heated and he hates to think about how badly he must be blushing right now. "all of you, i hope you don't value your family's lives too much," he says. "because they'll all be dead. very, very soon."

"AWWW, RIN-RIN'S BLUSHING!" shidou exclaims, which earns him a hard tackle to the floor.

but when the blue lock exhibition match goes public, rin still makes sure you're there in the front row. despite his teammate's relentless comments the entire match, he knows you're in those stands, cheering him on—and that's all he really needs.

a/n: hopefully this is what you were reffering to/what you wanted, i'm thinking about that one additional time where it's yukki and nagi turning the boys into animals and rin's sitting on his ipad until they mention isagi LMFAO

masterlist!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Paradigm Shift 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you get transferred to a new position but it’s hardly a breath of fresh air. (plus!reader)

Characters: Loki, Bucky Barnes, this reader is known as Billie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You sit against the wall as the important people line the edges of the desk. Swiveling, toying with ballpoint pens, tapping on flat tablet screens. You're the only assistant there and it's made more obvious as you're the only one not invited to sit with the VIPs.

The executives go down their agendas. Boasting mostly about their numbers, others using flowery language to hide their less than stellar results, and some posturing rather than sharing anything of value.

Odinson looks less than interested. His eyes stray now and again to the walls. The glass is covered by the drawn blinds which he seems to forget as his mind arounds. He must have found a new distraction. You got out just in time.

He cracks his neck, "very well. Submit your numbers as usual. I'll be in touch with those I need to be."

He stands and struts to the door as the rest of the table look at each other. They're put off by the suddenness of his dimissal. Ellie was still presenting her budget.

"Billie, a word."

It's your turn to be surprised. As the other suits pack up or lounge and swipe at their phone, only two gazes react to the command. Barnes and Laufeyson turn to watch you stand. This is treacherous.

Barnes tilts his head and Laufeyson squints. Like a wolf and a snake, measuring their prey. Well, you will not be devoured so easily.

You cross the office and follow Odinson out. He doesn't look ahead, rather cranes to focus on something, or someone you can't pick out. He stops short and you hit his back.

"Ah, uh, oh," he spins to face you and plants his hand on the wall, his other pushing back his stands of blond hair. "Am I in your way, darling?"

"Hm? No, you told me--"

"Ah, yes, yes," he chuckles raucously, "be assured, I had good reason," he leans in and looms over you, "my brother, tell me your thoughts."

"Erm, well, it's not been very long," you reply.

"You are a clever girl, Bill, tell me."

"He is good with numbers and I think he's well-placed. He and Barnes could be productive but I think Logistics needs--"

He raises his head and searches the bull pen. He huffs and stands straight, turning on his heel.

"You will keep notes for me on this matter," he demands. "Be off, before he is about one of his moods."

He strides away without your reply. You wouldn't have anything nice to say anyway. That was abrupt and odd. As for his last remark, you're not sure which of your bosses he refers too.

You march back toward the conference room with your laptop under your crossed arms. As you approach, Laufeyson steps into your path, no doubt having observed your conversation. Before you can tell him to move, he winces and steps away from the door as Barnes rescinds his thick finger from his jab in his cohort's ribs.

"For someone so skinny, you make a hell of a wall," Barnes snips.

"I am lean, not--" Laufeyson sighs and shakes his head, turning back to you. "What did my brother want?"

"Yes, what did the big bad want?" Barnes stands shoulder to shoulder with Laufeyson, well almost, he is a bit shorter.

"He asked if I needed anything. Like a desk mat or tranquilizer." You retort.

Barnes snickers and Laufeyson glowers deeper.

"Very witty indeed."

"I'd love to do my full set for you two but I believe you have other meetings in your calendar," you advise.

"You sound like my drill sergeant," Barnes scoffs.

You arch a brow and stare back. You wait. You will. You're not there to do their work for them.

"Have you a mind for coffee, James?" Laufeyson asks.

Barnes growls, "I'll drown you in it if you call me that again but yes, I could use a boost."

They keep their eyes on you. There power plays are boring. Do they really get off on grounding down an assistant sentenced to purgatory? Actually, that make you feel a bit better. That's how little they have going on.

"I'll go--"

"We'll come," Barnes insists. "Could stretch my legs? How about you, Loki? Built like a spider, sitting in those chairs--"

"You shouldn't be so concerned with my physique and perhaps start cutting those mid afternoon muffins, eh?" Laufeyson retorts.

Even when they get along, they dont.

"It would be quicker if I went myself," you say. "You have Rogers--"

"He's a friend. He'll understand," Barnes interjects. "Garcons?"

Laufeyson nods, "perfect."

You blink but don't let your agitation through. You simply nod.

"Alright, I'll need to put my computer away--"

"Eh, you," Laufeyson catches a passing intern by the back of his collar. "Take this to logistics."

He takes your laptop before you can react and hands it to the spindly yellow-haired undergrad. You give an apologetic look as he utters out a 'yes, sir' and hurries away.

"You didn't need to do that," you argue.

"I hope my brother didn't give you the impression that I take orders from you, darling. It is rather the other way around." Laufeyson sniffs.

"He only takes orders in the bedroom," Barnes chuckles.

"That's hardly appropriate," Laufeyson huffs.

"Loosen up. Skip the coffee and take a shot," Barnes raps his knuckles on Laufeyson's sleeve.

They turn and grumble at each other. You don't move until they reach the elevator. You're not stupid. They have to show their dominance. Too bad you don't care who's in charge, you just want to get the job done.

[slytherinshua]

ᜃ　SOFT LIPS, FLUSHED FACE　( 오시온 )

genre fluff , established relationship , sion x fem!reader   cw making out (not rly suggestive tho) , not proofread , ending is prob shit   wc 610   request for my pookie @blue-jisungs   note whipped sion agenda AND ALSO SHY SION AGENDA. he's too charismatic on stage we forget this man is soooo shy   net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Your boyfriend had always been clingy. Whether it was with you or any of the boys, it didn’t matter. Physical touch was Sion’s love language, and he seemed to have infinite amounts of it to give. Especially to you.

“Why are you pouting again?” you asked, focused completely on the book you were reading. You didn’t even need to glance in his direction to see his facial expression resembling that of a sad puppy. Whenever your boyfriend got uncharacteristically quiet, you knew he was pouting.

“You stopped kissing me.”

“For two seconds while I finish my chapter,” you reminded him, flipping the page. There were only three paragraphs left. He could wait. 

“Hurry up,” he complained, resting his head on your shoulder, eyes dropping down to skim the words on the page. He never understood why you always read romance books when he was right in front of you. Thirty seconds felt like hours to Sion, but when you finally moved your bookmark to the page, his eyes lit up. You didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgewise before the book was knocked out of the way, and Sion’s hand turned your head towards him for his long-awaited kiss. 

Long-awaited was an exaggeration, but there was rarely a day that your boyfriend wasn’t a little dramatic. That didn’t matter now, though, as you tasted his lips again, eyes falling closed naturally. Now determined to give your boyfriend exactly what he wanted, you pushed his shoulder back, lips still interlocked, until he rested against the headboard of the bed. 

Hands squeezing his shoulder, you finally pulled back from the kiss, slightly breathless. Sion’s eyes followed you, a slight smirk on his face, and yearning eyes longing for more. You smiled at him, pushing back some of his hair and cupping his cheeks. One hand traced his jawline, finger catching under his chin to lift it up. His soft eyes stared at yours, cheeks starting to flush under your touch. You only giggled at how cute he was, placing a few quick kisses to the beauty marks and freckles on his face. 

Sion’s eyes fluttered closed, soft giggles escaping his lips as your feather-light touch slightly tickled his face. He simply adored moments like this. When he was the focus of all your attention; when the world seemed to fade away, and it was just you two drowning in the love you shared. 

It wasn’t long before your lips found his again, gently dancing in tandem with the other. Soft lips and warm tongue falling into each other. Sion’s hands wandered to your waist, pulling you closer. You felt like you could stay like this forever, the taste of Sion’s lips and the warmth of his flushed skin under your body addicting you more every time you kissed him. 

Sion was the first to separate, breathless but still holding you close. There was a moment of silence before you both broke out in giggles. You fell completely into Sion’s hold, no longer trying to keep your head up as you nuzzled into his neck. His arms wrapped around you, hugging you ever close, as if even a single inch of space between you and him would end the world. 

“I love you so much,” you mumbled. The palm you rested on his chest allowed you to feel his heartbeat, still racing slightly. 

“I know.” Sion smiled, all the warm feelings of love swirling in his chest at the sound of your voice. 

“Thought I should tell you more often,” you whispered quietly, an equally big smile on your face as you snuggled closer to him. 

“I love you too.”

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,, @haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,, @lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @yvshi,, @nicholasluvbot

[scary-grace]

#3 for roommates to lovers!! :D

Hi! Thank you so much for this prompt! As I alluded to, I went through two other versions of this fic before settling on this one, so if this ends up not being your speed, that's okay -- let me know and I'll post one of the others.

Prompt: “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” No quirks AU, female reader, Shigaraki and the reader are roommates, approximately 3k. ANGST. But with a happy ending.

CASUAL

You hear the key in the lock on the front door and try to scramble up off the couch, at which point the four shots of vodka you’ve taken announce their presence. The first thing to go is your balance, and you bump into the coffee table before tipping backwards onto the couch again. The next is your dignity, when you realize that your roommate and his Valentine’s Day date are about to walk in and see you, on the couch in your pajamas and totally trashed. The third is your control over your emotions. Your face heats up and your throat goes tight and your eyes start to sting, and that’s all before Tomura even opens the door.

Tomura snagged himself a date for Valentine’s Day. A really hot date, Spinner took pains to tell you, like it was something for you to be excited about. Some cosplayer whose DMs he slid into, who dresses up as the slutty version of all his favorite video game characters, who flirts with guys and girls alike but never seems to settle down. Tomura’s friends are all amazed that he was able to pull it off, but you aren’t. You’ve been roommates with Tomura long enough to know that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

And you know he’s got some degree of game. You’d have to, since it worked pretty well on you.

Or maybe your game, as weird and offbeat as it is, worked pretty well on him. However it happened, you’ve been fucking him for the last six months. It started as hooking up to blow off steam, because neither of you had been on a date in forever and you were both too lazy or bad at dating apps to find a booty call. Just a roommates-with-benefits thing. A little recreation. Casual.

You’re not sure where it went off the rails, but over the past six months, you’ve slid from not hanging out except when you’re fucking to hanging out all the time, from bitching about your friends and their love lives to trading loaded glances when it comes up, from texting each other hey you up from your rooms to sleeping in the same bed. It started out as casual, but it’s not casual anymore. At least not to you. You were trying to think of how to raise the subject with Tomura, and thinking maybe of doing it tonight, until he announced out of nowhere that he’s got this date.

You didn’t find out until a couple days ago, and since then you’ve been seething, or at least you tell yourself that the throbbing ache in your chest is seething instead of heartbreak. You’ve played it cool around Tomura, razzing him over the restaurant he picked, offering to let him borrow your hair products if he wants to do something special with it – except then he took you up on it, the bastard, and he left for his date smelling like your leave-in conditioner. Part of you is pleased by that, by the thought that his date might catch the scent and wonder if she really is the only one he’s into. The rest of you thinks about her getting close enough to smell his hair and decides to throw up about it.

You lock your jaw and swallow hard. As terrible as this is going to be, the only thing worse than them walking in on you in the midst of a single-woman cringefest is if they walk in on you throwing up. What’s taking them so long to walk in on you, anyway? Tomura’s still trying to unlock the fucking door. You picture his date pressed back against the door, the two of them unwilling to stop kissing long enough to get into the apartment, and a surge of disgust and anger and hurt hits you harder than the vodka did. Fuck this. You’ve had enough.

This time you’re more careful as you get off the couch, and you’re steady enough on your feet as you cross the room to the front door. Deadbolt off, latch turned, two seconds to brace yourself, and you wrench open the door. You’re expecting the two of them to fall over onto you, so wrapped up in each other that they barely notice the shift from vertical to horizontal. But you don’t see any cosplayer in the hallway, or smell anyone’s perfume. The only person there is Tomura, still dressed for his date, trying to unlock the door with the wrong key.

The two of you look at each other for a moment. You can’t speak for him, but your mind’s gone totally blank. Except for one thing. “That’s the laundry-room key. Not the apartment key.”

Tomura keeps staring at you for another few seconds, then looks down at the key like he’s never seen it before. “They look the same.”

“Yeah. And you’ve lived her for two years. When are you going to suck it up and label them?” Your frustration is starting to spill over, and it gets worse with every second Tomura spends looking at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Like he’s hurt – like you’re being mean to him for no reason, when you’re not even being that mean. You could be meaner. He’s the one who went out and got a hot date without even telling you, when – “Wait, what time is it?”

Tomura glances at his watch, then holds it out to show you. Seven-thirty. Huh. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah.” Tomura takes off his watch and drops it into his coat pocket. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

You stand aside, the wheels turning in your head with painful slowness. Tomura’s date was supposed to start at six. He’s back at seven-thirty. He’s back alone. That’s not what happens with a Valentine’s Day date where things go according to plan, and everything about the way Tomura’s acting right now says that things went off the rails. The last three days, you’ve been proceeding under the assumption that Tomura’s Valentine’s Day would be fuck-on-the-first-date good. It never crossed your mind that it might go badly.

“Are you going to close the door or just stand there like that all night?” Tomura sounds tired, but there’s an edge to his voice. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing. You can’t hold your liquor for shit.”

“And I guess since you’re back already, I don’t have to ask about how your date went,” you return fire without thinking. You shut the door, maybe harder than you meant to, and turn to face Tomura with your arms crossed over your chest, doing everything in your power not to cry. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Do you care?” Tomura picks up the vodka bottle, uncaps it, and takes a long sip. “I don’t think you give a shit.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” you snap on autopilot, but the longer you think about it, the more confused you get. “What have I ever done to make you think I don’t care about you?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s too busy drinking half your vodka in a single swallow, unnerving you even more. “Hey. Stop. Whatever happened on your date, it’s not worth a hangover. I’ll help you, but –”

“Don’t worry about that. You’re off the hook.”

“What?” You’ve always helped Tomura with hangovers, way before you started sleeping together. His body reacts to alcohol like it’s actual poison, and there’s no point since you met him that you’ve ignored him when he needs help. “I’m not on the hook, Tomura. I do that stuff because I want to.”

“So stop wanting to,” Tomura says, but at least he puts the bottle down. “It shouldn’t be that hard for you. You’re good at not doing things you don’t want.”

“What are you talking about?” You can’t wrap your head around it. Tomura’s pissed at you. He’s the one who went on the date. Even if it didn’t go well, he still went on the date, so where does he get off being mad at you? “If you’re going to do this, say what you mean. It’ll be a lot faster, and after what you put me through –”

“What I put you through?” Tomura’s laughter goes jagged. “What do you tell your friends about me?”

“Nothing –”

“Right. Because it’s casual,” Tomura sneers. You’d believe it a lot more if you didn’t see his shoulders go tense, see the tendons in his neck stand out, hear the catch in his breathing. “Because I’m just some loser who’s still hanging around.”

“Because I don’t want to hear them tell me it’s a bad idea!” Your voice pitches upwards, fraying at the edges in a way you hate. “I don’t want to let them take something that makes me happy and ruin it. But maybe I should have, because I hate that I let this drag on so long, and if they’d told me it was a bad idea and I’d listened, then I wouldn’t be –”

“If it’s such a bad idea, then –”

All at once you’re fed up with this. Tired of pretending it’s fine. Tired of listening to him tear into you over something that isn’t even close to true. “I wouldn’t be losing my shit because you went out with someone else on fucking Valentine’s Day!”

Tomura blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” You can’t look at him right now. You slump back against the door, your arms crossed over your chest, eyes averted. “Don’t come after me when you’re the one being casual. I’m not the one who went out and got a hot date.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” Tomura demands. You nod, your eyes stinging. “Were you ever going to say that?”

“And out myself as the one who caught feelings? Are you joking?”

“No!” Tomura explodes. You look at him and find him scratching at his neck, hard. “That’s what I wanted you to do!”

It’s your turn to stare blankly, and Tomura’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. He spins away from you, still scratching. “I haven’t slept in my own bed in a month and a half. I can’t fall asleep without you anymore. You make tea for me if you’re the one who wakes up first and I kiss you goodbye if I leave before you do and even the stuff I hate doing is fun if you’re doing it with me. Except it feels like that because I’m in love with you. And you’re only doing it to blow off steam.”

The stinging in your eyes hits fever pitch. You blink and tears slip down your cheeks. “Tomura –”

“I thought if I told you I had a date, you’d say something. So I’d know one way or the other.” Tomura’s scratching slows, from frantic scrabbles to hard digs. “But you acted like you didn’t care at all. So I went on the date and she could tell I wasn’t into it and she gave me a hard time for leading her on –”

You hated his date on principle up until a few seconds ago. Now you’re actually starting to feel bad for her. Being on the other end of Tomura’s disinterest feels awful. “If you liked me, why didn’t you just say it?”

“I didn’t want to out myself, either.”

You both caught feelings. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but now you both have, which would be really nice except for how you got here. “So we’ve been yelling at each other over nothing.”

“I guess.” Tomura’s hand slows still further, the scratches lightening again. “Now what?”

“Uh –” You try to think, but you’re coming up sort of empty. “We just ruined our first Valentine’s Day together. Should we have make-up sex or something?”

Tomura snorts. “There’s not anything to make up. We were both stupid and we both hurt each other. We’re even.”

“That’s not exactly a no on the make-up sex.” You lever yourself off the door and cross the room to him, reaching up to pull his hand away from the side of his neck. The first time you ever tried that, he got mad at you, but ever since he’s let you do it. He lets you do it today, and you kiss his hand. “I just want us to feel better. It doesn’t matter how we do it.”

Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl, like he can’t decide whether he wants to hold on. “I said I love you. Do you love me, or did you just catch feelings?”

You had that one coming, probably. “I love you,” you admit, and his grip on your hand tightens. “I should probably have warned you before we started hooking up, but I’m kind of shit at this casual thing.”

“Same.” Tomura leans back against you ever so slightly and you plant your feet in a hurry. “What movie were you watching?”

“Something dumb. We can watch something else.”

“Yeah. When we get back.”

“When we get back?” you ask. “From where?”

“It’s still Valentine’s Day,” Tomura says. “And you’re my girlfriend, so I should probably take you out.”

You’re his girlfriend. You’ve never had a shorter define-the-relationship talk in your life, and part of you can’t think past what a relief it is. But you and Tomura have never gone out, anywhere – whatever’s going on with you has stayed here in your apartment, barely even referenced when you’re outside of it. And you’re not exactly at your best. “I’m in my pajamas,” you start, only to realize how dumb it sounds. “I can change. It won’t take long, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens for a brief second before he lets you go. “Wait here.”

He disappears into his room, and you take the opportunity to cap the bottle of vodka and wipe your eyes. You never really got into it with the crying, and you can feel it lurking somewhere in the background, ready to ambush you when you least expect it. It’s been a hard night. Maybe it’s okay if you cry a little bit. Crying in front of your roommate-with-benefits is one thing. It’s probably okay to cry in front of your boyfriend.

The door to Tomura’s room opens. “Okay,” Tomura says, and your jaw drops at the sight of him. “Now we can go.”

You didn’t think much about what he was doing in there, but you assumed he was changing out of his fancy date clothes into something more casual. But Tomura’s skipped straight over casual. He’s wearing pajama pants and the League of Legends hoodie you got him for his birthday last year, and you can see the hem of a comically oversized t-shirt sticking out beneath it. As you watch in shock, he tucks his keys and his phone into the front pocket of the hoodie and heads for the door. “Are you coming?”

“Um, yes.” You find your own phone and wallet, detouring to your room to grab a sweater. “Tomura –”

“You look good like that,” Tomura says. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you think that make-up sex might not be entirely off the table. “I was just getting on your level. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Let’s figure it out on the way.”

There are other things to figure out on the way, too. Like whose room is going to be your room together, and what you’re going to do with the other one. Like what you’re going to tell your friends, or how Tomura’s going to explain blowing his date with an objectively hot cosplayer so he can go out with you. Like holding hands – which way you like better, and how tight is too tight to hold on, and how fast is it acceptable to grab each other’s hands back after you have to let go.

“This is what got me in trouble,” Tomura says, inspecting your laced fingers as the two of you wait for the train. “Holding hands.”

“How did it get you in trouble?” you ask. “We never really do that at home, except –”

You trail off, your face flushing, and Tomura elaborates. “It was like the third time we hooked up or something. You probably don’t remember.”

You do. It was the fourth time you hooked up, the first time it was spontaneous instead of planned, and you were blowing him on the couch, whichever movie you’d been watching completely forgotten. Tomura was being himself about it, twitching and squirming and making all kinds of pretty sounds that he kept trying to hide, and you glanced sideways at one point and saw his hand, scrabbling desperately at the couch cushions. You had a free hand, so you reached out and held it. You remember being startled at how tightly Tomura held on, surprised at how quickly he stopped trying to be quiet, and when you finally drew back, you were surprised again at how reluctant he was to let you go.

It was weird, but you wrote it off, until the next time you hooked up with him and he went for your hand while he was eating you out. Then it was your turn to hold on too tight.

“I was probably reading into it,” Tomura continues, snapping you out of a set of memories that you’d really rather not be wandering through on a train, “but you doing that – it didn’t seem all that casual to me.”

“Maybe it was never that casual,” you admit. You don’t think you’d have started hooking up with him in the first place if you hadn’t already liked him at least a little bit. “I think I’ll be fine if I never hear the word ‘casual’ again.”

“Casual.”

“Shut up.”

“Casual,” Tomura says again, and you nudge him with your shoulder a little harder than necessary. You’d elbow him, but you’d have to let go of his hand. “We’re going out on Valentine’s Day. Is it casual now?”

He’s joking – mostly. You can tell by the way his grip on your hand tightens, the way his red eyes search your face with a little more urgency than before. “No,” you say, and you kiss him, feeling his lips curve into a smile against yours. “It’s not casual at all.”

[frostbiteisthenewjackieshauna]

Hiiii, can you please write your dating shauna hc please? thank youuu 🤓

shauna shipman my cutiepie!! (sfw, pre crash/no crash!au)

Lemme take it from the top

she’s wayyy too shy to ask you out

she kind of eyes you all the time and can barely pay attention in classes that you have together

and Jackie bugs her to just ask you out!!

what’s the worst that could happen? you saying no?

but that is what she feared most

yearning was something she did great, and she’d rather do that then deal with rejection, so she just stays quiet

which does turn out to be very difficult once your history teacher assigns seats to everyone

and just her luck, she’s right next to you!!

believe me, paying attention was hard at first too, but now it’s downright impossible

that’s why she starts doing worse in history

which is surprising, she’s a straight A student

so the teacher gives her a tutor

you!

your guys’ first tutoring session was awkward as hell

you thought she was rude (even though she never seemed that way to you) since she barely talked or memorized anything you said

or tried to teach her

she’s a little embarrassed too, it’s usually her that tutors others

however with a big push from Jackie she does apologize, saying she’s always weird around new people

which is true, but this was a bit different, definitely

still, the tutoring gets funner and less dreaded, and it ended pretty fast- as soon as Shauna broke the ice with you, she could finally pay mind to class

and you two do become friends

you’re one of her only friends, really

until she blurts it out while you were having coffee

“I mean I do like you. Not as a friend.”

she said, trying to convince you she was joking

it was obviously not supposed to come out, but you guys were rambling about falling in love with friends

and she YAPPED

which made that thought that was supposed to stay buried deep come out

and you went through with it until the rest of the date hangout

and then kissed her before getting out of her car

it was a hurried peck, neither of you being all that experienced

she gave you those eyes.

you know the ones.

which made you kiss her again

I mean how could you not??

this time it was deep and passionate, and it turned into a full blown makeout session with you in her lap

the kind of sesh that you both enjoyed so much you felt no need to go further

after that day, she was officially your girlfriend!! yay!!

“I’ve wanted to make you mine for a long time.” you said

“You- yeah uh, sure! Of course, yeah, yours.”

you and Jackie became total besties, playfully making fun of Shauna together

you probably heard Jackie saying “Get a room!” more then any other words in history

but on a serious note, you knew how important their friendship was and made no effort to get in the way of it

but Shauna just wanted to be around you always

calls you over to just chill and do nothing

she just relishes being in your presence, no matter what you do or who else you’re with

short lil makeout sessions while waiting for Jackie to emerge from the house when you go to pick her up for school in the morning

also I cannot stress this enough: wearing. her. flannels.

she has a bizarre amount of them

and she notices that they keep going missing…

doesn’t even try to ask for them back, because she melts as soon as she sees you in one

plays you her “weird” music

is ecstatic when you end up liking it

baking together!!

i have a feeling she’s an amazing baker

you guys do it for fun, to try out recipes or sometimes for charity!!

in the beginning she only lets you measure dry ingredients but relents as soon as you pout

most of your dates are intimate like that

she loves being personal, maybe not secret but does like privacy

not big on PDA at all

the most she’ll do is hold your hand

back to date night though

since dating you, she got so much closer to Tai and Van because you keep going to double dates!!

omg Tai and you listening to them ramble about their nerdy shit

it’s so cute really, you guys shoot each other knowing looks across the table

other then them, you meet all of the team

but still, Tai, Van, and Jackie stay your favorites (other then Shauna obviously)

also! half her journal entries are about you

how pretty you looked, something you’d told her, writes down little details of the stories you tell her that she knows you’d appreciate her knowing

she’s completely devoted to you, and can do nothing to help it

(you feel the same way)

and you love how cute and shy she is around you

especially in the beginning

but later on, she can be more then bold, trust

overall, dating Shauna would be super soft and intimate in every way shape and form

it’s not all that thrilling, but cozy and comfortable

[empressgeekt]

Here are some fic recs for wholesome TFA!!! I have combed through the unwanted mature stuff so you don't have too!!

-this is a very short one shot, that likely happens post series and its Arcee and Ratchet being very sweet

-Optimus was the one who got lost on that fateful trip to the spider planet, however he some how escaped to earth and lost his memory in the process rather then mutate into a spiderbot. He spends the next seventy years on earth, getting adopted by humans and becoming a local hero until an odd spaceship crashes into Lake Erie (current hyperfixation). Featuring engaged Opilita though Oppy doesn't remember.

-Blurr stuck in cube form somehow ends up on earth, and team Detroit finds him. Featuring wholesome family interactions and drama, as Sari is the only blurr can communicate with in this state, and the other bots think they have to explain death to her.

-Aftermath of Season 1 Epi 14, after defeating the barnacle monster Tensions are high, and then Sari starts sneezing que panicked robot guardians

-human children need sleep, here are the many tactics the Team use to put little Sari to bed

-this is basically 'Optimus prime is a theater kid' the fic, the main prompt being is that since he defeated Megatron in battle the Decepticon throne now belongs to our little red and blue prime, so he dawns a secret id, and pranks the pit out of the elite guard.

-Role-reversal au, Optimus is a spider mutant, Elita is a prime, and Sentinel is in charge of a space bridge repair crew that by miracle stumbles on to the allspark, fights megatron, and lives!

-Bulkhead was born the sparkling of Strika, and Lugnut, two top generals in Megatron's forces...only Strika knows this fact...And she's on her way to earth to reclaim her lost little one

-Optimus finds out Post canon that Megatron is actually his father...and suddenly things don't seem as black and white between the factions anymore.

-The Jettwins find a frog...Sentinel is not impressed...

I finished watching Transformers Animated today!! (Yes I'm still watching and plan to finish G1, but my vacations are ending soon so I wanted to watch another TF show before that, which is also the reason I started watching Transformers Prime at the same time lol. I already finished Season 1 of Prime, but that's another post for later)

And can we all just agree that Optimus isn't the responsible one for what happened to Elita One?!!

Like it was Sentinels fault for suggesting going to that planet when it clearly wasn't allowed, and Optimus wanted to get out of there and voiced that thought. And even when they already fell through that hole before the spiders appeared he once again voiced that they should get out of there. And then when Elita fell into the hole of spiders and the Energon was exploding Optimus made the logical and reasonable choice of getting away from there cause they were gonna die if they didn't. And Sentinel then putting all the blame to him for the accident, and telling this lies to Ultra Magnus, making Optimus expelled from the academy (and Optimus letting it happen cause he feels guilty about the events. OPTIMUS MY BABY YOU WEREN'T I PROMISE :(((), and still calling him a loser after all this time??!! I'm glad that Sentinel at least got to be kicked around and bullied in his scenes cause the jerk definitely deserves it and more.

I just feel for so bad for this Optimus, cause he obviously didn't want to abandon Elita, but the place was literally blowing up and after the explosion ended her signal didn't came up, so what's the logical reason? That she's offline, not that she got turned into a spider-lady!!

But BOYYYY THOSE STORY SCRIPTS FOR THAT EPISODE OF SEASON 4 WHERE OPTIMUS GETS TO CHANGE THE PAST BUT HE ENDS UP BEING THE TECHNO-ORGANIC SPIDER??!! MAN I WOULD'VE EAT THAT UP SO QUICKLY I WANT IT RAHHHHH!!!

Also I'm checking the ao3 fandom tag rn and I'm seeing a lack of found family fics of the Autobots and Sari????!! HUH?????!! WHERE'S MY FOUND FAMILY FOOD???? THAT'S LITERALLY A PART OF THE CORE'S SHOW, WHERE'S MY WEIRD GIANT ALIEN ROBOTS AND THEIR WEIRD LITTLE "HUMAN" GIRL BEING A FAMILY CONTENT AT???!!!

Unacceptable. It seems like I'm gonna have to write it myself/hj/pos (psst. If you do know about some good fics about that, let me know please! And also about TFA Megop, cause I liked their dynamic, just don't be sexual, just some romance it's good!)

I'm probably gonna make proper and longer posts about TFA cause I really liked the show, I just wanted to get out my fresh thoughts rn lol

[reborn-readings]

Messages of hope for spring 2025

Tip Jar | Masterlist | Personal Readings

Hello hello! Quite the past month we've had. With everything going on in the world, I thought I'd ask the spirits to relay some specific messages to inspire hope as the cold yields and life starts to return to begin the cycle anew. These messages will be pertinent to the months of March, April, and May of 2025. Pick whichever pile calls out to you!

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Top Left)

Five of Spring | Ten of Cups | Epona | Break Free 

Maybe in your past you’ve experienced a battleground. Something very serious, somewhere where you couldn’t be yourself and had to live up to an extreme expectation or be punished for it. I see authority as a running theme in your life, too, maybe a string of relationships or jobs in which you felt there were a definite leader or boss and (whether yourself or others) and you were comfortable that way. Spring is bringing a different kind of dynamic to you; a fight where no one gets hurt, a relationship where no one is more responsible than the other, an opportunity to climb up to an ideal that you’ve had your whole life. Watch for the moments when you find people teasing and joking in a way that could seem hurtful from the outside but you know it’s just their humor. When this moment comes, you will know that you’ve broken free of what hurt you in the past. 

Pile 2 (Top Middle)

Six of Spring | Rx Death | Persephone | Friendship 

Celebration. That’s the first word that comes to mind. And if you read it (or said it out loud) and instantly saw a flash of a specific celebration, then the spirits want you to know that that result is almost certain. I get the feeling that you will be publicly recognized and lauded for something that you did not expect, some part of your hidden or shadow self that you hid for fear of shame. It is something that lacks grace. Something like…having spoken up even if your words could have been interpreted wrongly or rudely, but people saw past the words to your idea and they loved it. Even if the idea itself is dark, you have been sharing that, and you will see the results of that soon enough in a glorious event that may welcome unexpected friends. I get the feeling that this will happen earlier for you than the other piles, late February or early March. 

Pile 3 (Top Right)

Strength | Rx The Emperor | Hina | Mother Healing 

Right off the bat, I can tell that this message will be one that is harder to grasp for you, and you may need to look hard and close for it. I see a few specific images that all interplay in your life: you father, your church, your mother. You have a very unique way of approaching gender, something that the mainstream culture around frowns upon. Your femininity and spirituality cross in ways that seem unseemly. Maybe you don’t know how to reconcile the two? This is something that you should be thinking about more. I just got the image of a crown of thorns in my head; know that you are the master of this beast.  I can’t articulate everything that you’re going to come to learn and realize for yourself; I suppose the only message I have for you is to know that you have the inner strength to guide you through this. 

Pile 4 (Bottom Left)

Seven of Summer | Rx King of Cups | Rhiannon | Simplify Your Life 

Winter brings clutter with it. We shut ourselves up in our homes with what we have and wait, letting go of nothing since we know on an instinctual level that we cannot simply go out and replace what we lose. However, this clutter, whether it takes the form of actual, physical clutter, mental baggage, or just too many decisions to make, results in us feeling overwhelmed. Your emotions may feel difficult to track down, but addressing their causes will help. Spring is going to see you cleaning up those aspects of your life. I see the word ‘king’ a lot, so don’t be afraid to lean into your masculine power. The world is beautiful; try to remember to once in a while look beyond the clutter in your path to see what you’re working toward. Once you see your goal, each individual step will feel both simple and momentous! 

Pile 5 (Bottom Middle)

Nine of Summer | Nine of Wands | Demeter | You’re Being Helped 

Go around the back way. That’s the first message that I got. Are you being blocked from your wishes being fulfilled? There’s always another way, you know. Demeter didn’t bow down when Hades took her daughter; she went on strike, withholding her gifts from the world until they addressed her plight. You, too, are going to find an unorthodox method of bypassing what stands in your way. The spirits are not the ones putting up the barrier, they are the ones helping to guide you to your prize. Your Cinderella story is waiting; not just rags to riches, but also finding out that you have a Fairy Godmother on your side who’s willing to bend the rules for you. After all, some rules are unjust and meant to be broken. Don’t go doing anything crazy or rush so much you trip yourself, but keep your eyes open for your opportunity. 

Pile 6 (Bottom Right)

King of Spring | King of Swords | White Shell Woman | Self-Employment 

Where do I begin, Pile 6?! This spring, you are going to see the perfect union between your passion and your mind. You are someone with a lot of gifts to give, and to make sure that you play your role this upcoming spring, the spirits are going to fill your baskets to the point of overflow to show you how generous you can be. Though I can sense that you just want some alone time, and trust me, you’ll get it. You will find that people flock to you, seeing you as a skilled leader and wanting to support what you support. Relish being alive! Look around you at all the things growing! You have so much to look forward to.

If this was helpful to you, please consider donating or expanding on your message in one of my readings! 🩷

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[livingformintyoongi]

The Hunger Games | Kim Taehyung

a/n: Yes, this is not as well produced as the rest of my work because it's a stupid project I'm doing based on this publication I made, because if I'm going to push people to show their never finished projects, then I'm also going to participate showing this fragment I wrote a LONG time ago :))

Warnings: THG!AU, a little angsty, Reader is rather clumsy and soft (yes, I like characters that are shown to be weak, condemn me), and just that, it's short 🙂

"Are you still awake?" Taehyung whispered over your hair, both arms wrapped protectively around your waist. You were almost sure he hadn’t taken his hands off you since he set foot on the arena.

"Yeah, it's hard to sleep knowing that at any moment someone could jump on us to attack," you murmured, snuggling even closer to his chest, clinging to the false hope that this way, you might find some peace.

"No one would dare approach us. Our allies are some of the strongest—we have Chaewoon and Yoongi, two of the most ruthless winners. Then there’s Sooah, Jiwon, and Jungkook, some of the strongest fighters. And, of course, we have Namjoon. He won the games purely with his intelligence. We have nothing to worry about—"

"Taehyung," you interrupted before he could continue, turning to face him. It was still nighttime, and neither of you was willing to light a fire, so the only illumination was the moonlight. Your delicate features stood out even more under the blueish glow, and Taehyung couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked, even in a situation as hopeless as the Hunger Games.

"We may have the strongest and smartest players, but everyone in this arena has won a game before. And let’s not forget the fact that they all did it by their own merit..." You paused for a moment before continuing, a small pang in your chest making it hard to say what had been weighing on your mind ever since they announced you would be fighting in the Games again. "Everyone except me."

"Honey—"

"No, Taehyung, don’t try to make it seem like I did something incredible, like my victory was as legendary as everyone else’s," you kept your gaze lowered, unable to meet his eyes as you let out all the fears you had kept bottled up until now. "The only reason I won the Games was because I got lucky. We both know it—everyone knows it! That’s the only reason people even remember me out there. ‘How did she dodge that arrow?’ ‘What were the odds that a beehive would fall right onto that player?’ ‘How did she find food that another tribute couldn't get to because of the distance and difficulty?’"

Your grip on Taehyung’s suit tightened slightly, your forehead pressed against his chest as if it could shield you from his gaze.

"I never killed anyone, not a single person. My weapon is completely clean. If someone were to attack us right now, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I never passed any trials, not even the agility test..." You licked your lips before continuing, the lump in your throat tightening now that you were finally voicing your deepest fear. "I’m a burden to all of you, Taehyung," you whispered against his chest, feeling how his arms tensed around your waist. "If another team comes after us, you’d be too busy keeping me alive to worry about yourself, and the same goes for the others. I’m a liability, and everyone knows it. There’s no way I can be of any help. I can’t even swim. I can barely run properly without tripping halfway through. And it’s too dangerous for you to keep carrying me on your back all the time."

"What are you trying to say, Y/N?" Taehyung murmured, his grip on you tightening even more. He couldn't even tell where he ended and where you began. "Because if you’re telling me all this just to say we should split from the group, then—"

"You don’t have to come with me," you shook your head, pressing your face against his chest, needing to feel him as close as possible, to the point where you could hear his heartbeat growing louder. "I don’t want you to. I want you to live, Tae. I want to stop being a burden to you."

"You are not a fucking burden, Y/N. You are my fiancée," he growled softly, resting his face in the crook of your neck. You were fully aware of how much this conversation angered him—you had been from the moment the thought first crossed your mind. But it was the best thing, for everyone, for him, and he had to understand that somehow.

"I can’t just leave you behind and go as if you don’t matter to me, because you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I don’t want to do it, and I won’t. You want to leave the group? Fine, do it. But I’m going with you," he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours desperately. He needed you to understand how he felt, that he would never, ever leave you alone, no matter what.

"I’ve respected every single one of your decisions, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to others. But with this? With this, you don’t get a choice, baby. I’m going wherever you go. Always."

"It’s dangerous for you to be with me."

"It’s dangerous for you to be alone."

"I don’t want you to die because of me."

"And do you think I do? You said it yourself—you’re clumsy, you don’t know how to handle a weapon properly without hurting yourself. If I leave you here alone… just thinking about it, I—"

He pursed his lips, studying your face intently. He lifted a hand to your cheek, caressing it as if your skin were made of the most delicate and precious material in existence. And to him, you were.

A fragile body, a heart too soft, too easily broken. To him, you were the most beautiful woman in the world—if not the entire universe. You were the love of his life, someone he never thought he would get to meet. But there you were, lying beside him, looking only at him, wearing a ring that, in a few months, would bind you together for life.

"I love you too much to risk your life for nothing, Y/N."

He rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing, lips just inches apart, breathing the same air.

"Don’t do this to us, please, I beg you," he whispered against your lips, running his hands through your golden strands before resting them on your nape. His dark eyes locked onto yours, a quiet smile forming inside him as he saw your pupils dilate, as he felt your much smaller hands clutching his clothes like your life depended on it.

You could say you wanted to go your separate ways, but your body told an entirely different story.

"Stay with us," he murmured, his lips barely touching yours as he spoke. "Stay with me."

Before you could respond, Taehyung closed the distance, his fingers tangling in your hair, his arms pulling you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against his.

You had kissed before, many times—sometimes briefly, other times with deeper emotion. But this? This was different from any kiss you had shared before.

It felt like a last one.

More desperate than any other, yet filled with uncertainty and a silent plea neither of you dared to voice. The hand he had kept on your cheek now tried to wipe away the tears that had started falling—tears he was sure you had been holding back for days.

The kiss didn’t last more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Hours neither of you wanted to end.

When you pulled away for air, Taehyung followed, seeking more, needing more. He didn’t want to let you go. He didn’t want to lose you.

"I’m scared, Tae," you whispered between soft sobs, looking at him with so much desperation and fear that he felt his heart clench.

His eyes locked onto yours with determination, trying to appear as confident as possible, to make his words feel like undeniable truth.

"I’ll get you out of this alive, baby. I’ll get both of us out. I promise."

[gaylordscooter]

Moving in

“lemme get this straight, you already know what we’ve done, haven't you? i read your little journal.”

Blue shifted on his bed, trying to keep eye contact with Sans. “Well, yeah, but I wasn't writing about you three specifically.”

Sans looked disgusted but it wasn't at Blue. “there were others before us.”

Blue couldn't hide the guilt on his face.

“and you don't know where they are anymore. you wanted to help them too, huh?”

He really did. He was just too weak and scared back then, but now he's gotten used to talking to murderers. After all, one of his best friends is one.

It's important not to narrow them down to just that. Of course the idea initially sounds weird. Why would you ever want to show compassion to these guys? Blue formed an answer for that a long time ago.

When their story is scripted, was it really their fault?

He supposed offering a question as an answer wasn't the best thing, but his personal answer to that was “no”. At least, depending on how they act once they're out of their universe. As far as he's concerned, these three haven't caused any significant trouble after they’ve left their universes.

He didn't need all these justifications anyway. Personally, he didn't really care what they’ve done. He's here to help, that's what he does.

“i’m gonna pass on your offer,” he said. “besides, if you plan on helping dusk ‘n killer, you're gonna need your full attention on ‘em. i got papyrus, they got…each other, i guess, but that's doing more harm than good at the moment.” He grimaced.

“Right, okay,” Blue nodded. Sans’s reasoning was sound. He did have a support system opposed to the other two, and monitoring all three of them would probably be too much.

“y’know you might die trying to help them, right?” His tone sounded neutral, as if he was just stating a fact rather than trying to deter him.

“Well, yeah.” Everything he did came with a chance of death. It's a part of having only one HP.

But given everything he has survived, which included his universe literally shattering, he's stopped caring about those chances long ago.

“that's not gonna stop you at all?”

“I wouldn't be here right now if it would—OH SHIT!”

Sans flinched at the sudden increase in volume. “what?!”

Blue’s eyelights shrunk and he stood up from the bed. “Your eye!” he yelled as if that explained anything.

“what about my eye?”

“The other one. Your magic eye, doesn't that keep you alive?” Blue asked.

Sans was taken aback. He hasn't thought about that in a long while. For this guy to know about it…Just how much did this guy know?

And how did he get that information?

Sans decided to look at him like he was crazy rather than responding, which immediately made Blue look nervous.

“...is that not right?”

He sounded like a kid who got a question wrong on a test. As innocent as that sounded on paper, he didn't appreciate that the question in this instance was regarding a personal fact about himself. A personal fact not even Papyrus knew.

“alright,” he adjusted his posture on the stool to lean closer to him, “how do you know all this stuff about us?”

Just like he wanted, the gesture seemed to intimidate him. He sat up straight on his bed, but he didn't lean back as if showing weakness would make him lunge at the other.

Blue tugged on his scarf. “Okay, I know it sounds suspicious, but a friend of mine told me all about you guys.”

He narrowed his sockets, “a friend?”

“Oof, okay, you want the full explanation?”

The look on Sans’s face was enough to usher him to continue.

Blue sighed. “So the friend I’m talking about is Ink, you've seen him a few times.” He lowered his voice as he continued. “he kinda doesn't like me talking about him to other people, but you are entitled to a proper explanation. he kinda knows everything about the multiverse and sometimes he tells me about it.”

The whole thing sounded like complete bullshit, but with how Blue’s been acting this entire time he felt inclined to believe it. How else would he know? Stalking them? He isn't even from the same universe as them.

With that being said.

“and how the hell does ink get all this information?”

Blue cleared his throat, “uhhh. i’m not actually sure. he just kinda. Knows. Automatically. i can point at someone and he’ll be able to identify their universe and backstory immediately.”

It felt like there was something Blue wasn't telling him with how vague he was being. Internally he took note of how he used the word “backstory” to describe one's past. As if he were talking about people like they were characters.

Sans didn't think anyone should have as much knowledge as Ink. Bad things can come out of someone knowing all of the answers.

They might start digging for more mysteries, consequences be damned, just to satiate their curiosity.

But Blue’s concerns right now were elsewhere.

“So anyway, about your eye. An entity called Error destroyed your universe and displaced everyone to The Hub. So everything left, including your eye, is probably in his labyrinth right now.”

He proceeded to ramble on about “Error” and the labyrinth that resided in a place called the antivoid.

What Sans understood was that his eye was in a near-inaccessible place and could be destroyed the longer it stayed there. So really it isn't any different from it being in the queen’s possession.

Despite Blue’s long explanation that hardly anyone has been able to get something out of the labyrinth unscathed, he insisted he was going to get his eye out from that place. By himself.

Sans was not gonna let this guy just recklessly risk his life like that just to save his own.

“It's fine! I've been there before. I’m sure I can get it back safely with the right planning,” he insisted.

“because your plan to rescue that skeleton from that freak went so smoothly,” he retorted.

“sending you three wasn't my plan.”

“sending that army of whatever those things were was your plan, though.”

“They're called Blueberries and that wasn't my initial plan either!” Blue crossed his arms, “besides, it did get everyone out relatively safely even though I hardly had time to think of it.”

Those “blueberries” were a good distraction, he’ll give him that, but he still wasn't sure this guy would be able to pull off retrieving his eye from what was essentially described as a multiversal garbage dump—plan or not.

“hang on, why doesn't ink just get it instead? isn't he a lot more capable?”

Blue looked at him like he told him pigs could fly. “No,” he answered succinctly. “Anyway, I’ll probably get it back in a week. It shouldn't be destroyed by then.”

The “probably” and “shouldn't” was real comforting.

He went on to change the subject as if the topic at hand was casual small talk.

“So you wanted to move into a house with just you and your brother, right?”

After they had that talk he sent Dusk over to Blue. He was curious how his conversation would go with him, considering Dusk hardly talked. The only person he consistently spoke to at this point was Killer.

To be fair the only other people he could talk to was him and Nightmare. Of course he wasn't going to talk to Nightmare and he could just sign whenever he was with Sans. Maybe things will be different with more people around.

Yeah right.

Speaking of Killer, he was out like a light at the moment. Even after he ate and was healed by Dusk, he still felt sleepy enough to take a nap. He didn't know how exactly those flowers from Fresh worked, but he assumed they could leech off of a monster’s magic, which is why it would knock out a monster like Killer—he was used to having a lot of magic in his system. Suddenly losing a lot wasn't exactly fatal for him but it confuses the body.

Or something like that, he wasn't a biologist.

Dusk was pretty loopy too after their first encounter with Fresh, but he was loopy all the time so it was hard to tell there was a difference.

Those two…he wouldn't have guessed they'd end up the way they were now. From day one those two seemed to loathe each other. Every day he wondered if one of them would finally kill the other. The fights they had would tear up parts of the forest. He watched them, at first out of some sick curiosity, but later on it was to call an end to the fight whenever they got too carried away.

But then there was that night where Nightmare gave them a blunt, probably curious to see how it would go down.

Well, he sure hoped sparking a relationship between those two was what he wanted.

Even without the weed affecting him, that night was a trip. Two murderous self-loathing alternate versions of himself clinking teeth couldn't be topped by any hallucination.

Killer stirred, finally waking up. He was still incredibly groggy. He explained to him that they were talking to Blue to sort out their living situations.

Dusk came in through the hallway shortly after, acting fairly cold towards Killer as if he wasn't watching over him and waiting for him to wake up moments ago.

Sans had a hunch he talked about Killer with Blue.

The hunch turned out to be right as he had a little chat with Dusk. They were going to live apart. That was good. Spending some time apart could make them less clingy to each other.

But the conversation between the two proved that being apart was gonna be harder than Dusk thought it would be. He retreated to the hallway where Blue apparently was standing too.

He was either eavesdropping or was on his way to the living room before he heard the arguing start.

He was generous enough to think it was the latter.

Blue looked back to his room, probably debating whether or not to go back. 

And then they heard Dusk shout that he loves Killer. The two winced. Sans even heard Blue shout-whisper a “WHY would he say that now?”

Too stunned to even move, the conversation was over before they knew it.

The silence was incredibly loud.

Blue gave Sans an uncertain look, straightened himself out, and finally walked down the hall.

Despite the silent tension between Killer and Dusk, Blue managed to act like everything was normal.

Even though he was the only one that was talking at this point.

Moments later, Ink dropped by to take them to the Hub. Sans spared a glare at him, which he did not miss. He said nothing, but childishly stuck his tongue out at him. Which was a thing some skeletons apparently had.

They dropped off Killer first. Sans grabbed him by his sleeve to lead him over to his room. He looked completely empty as he clung onto Dusk in a last-ditch effort to keep him here.

It was weird seeing the normally chatty skeleton look so dead.

Was this really the same monster that called his relationship with Dusk an “inside joke”?

He couldn't help but feel a little worried about him being alone.

Next, Blue took him and Dusk to their new homes. He had no idea how they were built so quickly—at least it seemed like it was newly built, he swore those houses weren't standing there before.

Their houses were right next to each other and were only about a block away from the hotel Killer was staying at. It was convenient, if those two wanted to keep in touch.

“cya around,” he told Dusk.

Dusk gave him a thumbs up in response as they parted ways.

When he entered his new home, he was surprised to see that Papyrus had already started settling in.

There were many open boxes on the carpet of the entry room, all but one empty.

“sup, bro.”

Papyrus looked so giddy with joy, it was nice to see him like this again. He paused his unpacking to waltz over to Sans. “SANS, ISN’T IT AMAZING? OUR VERY OWN HOUSE WITH POWER! THIS ISN’T HOW I EXPECTED OUR LIVES TO GO, BUT, I’M GLAD EVERYTHING TURNED OUT FINE.”

“yeah.” It was intimidating, how “normal” their life has suddenly become.

All the unspoken words and secrets clung to his back. He never planned on telling Papyrus, or anyone, about what he's done. There wasn't any reason to, not when they were just trying to survive.

But now, now he felt the sense that he was obligated to.

Even though the blood stains were washed off his bones and teeth, they were still crooked, and his eye sockets had sunken in ways only Sans’s should.

Granted, people wouldn't know that was because he ate human meat, but they'd still know he'd gone through a rough time.

He was so happy right now. There was no need to tell him right now. There's no rush.

He thought back to that encounter with a different Papyrus back at Nightmare's place.

“You hid what happened from your brother didn't you?”

He read him like a book, and it wasn't even his Papyrus. Would that mean Papyrus knew he was hiding something?

Back then he was too distracted by the fact he told everyone to start eating humans to even question anything about his injury.

He thought about how his eye was currently at even more risk than it initially was. He didn't really feel scared or worried about dying. A part of him might even accept it.

But if that's the case, why did he fight so hard to survive?

Why didn't he just give up back then? His life wasn't worth all the shit he's put everyone through.

Of course back then, all he thought about was the betrayal. He was blinded by his anger.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT, SANS?” Papyrus asked.

Sans didn't realize he was just standing there and glaring at nothing for a little while. He relaxed his face. “yeah, it's just, surreal that we're here right now.”

“HONESTLY I DIDN’T EXPECT TO BE IN A BRAND NEW AREA WITH A BRAND NEW HOUSE EITHER. IT’S PRETTY WEIRD!”

Something about the cadence of Papyrus’s voice was off when he said that. He looked happy, sure, but something about the sound of his voice felt forced. 

“what about you?”

Papyrus closed his mouth and looked at him as if he didn't hear. While his hearing was pretty bad at this point, which is part of the reason he learned sign language, in a silent room like this he knew he definitely heard his question.

Still, he repeated his question, “how are you doing?”

Papyrus's happy demeanor cracked as he lowered his smile. “I’M NOT QUITE SURE…WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT QUESTION. OF COURSE I’M DOING GREAT!” His smile returned but it felt fake.

“uh—”

“WE HAVE POWER, A COMFORTABLE HOME, WE’RE TOGETHER AGAIN AFTER YOU MYSTERIOUSLY WENT MISSING FOR A WHOLE YEAR. WHAT’S NOT TO BE HAPPY ABOUT?”

There was something in the tone of his voice that Sans had a hard time pinning down at first and then Papyrus continued.

“EVERYONE WHO SURVIVED IS SAFE NOW. WE HAVE FOOD THAT ISN’T HUMAN MEAT. AND THERE’S NEW FACES TO MEET!”

Papyrus leveled with Sans, kneeling down and grabbing his shoulders.

Sans swore his tired eye sockets looked at him with desperation. Desperation to just, go back to normal. To go back to being The Great Papyrus.

The Great Papyrus that didn't hunt any humans for food, that didn't get unnerved by his brother, that didn't get scared of Undyne.

The Great Papyrus that had hope for the future.

No, he still had hope. It was just. Hard. To hold onto it.

Especially when it felt more like denial at this point.

“Are you sure you're alright, Sans?” Papyrus asked, quieter this time.

He looked closer at Papyrus’s face. No, he imagined all that desperation. That smile wasn't plastic, it was real. Papyrus was doing fine—maybe not “great” like he said but that desperation to go back to normal wasn't Papyrus’s.

Sans sighed, “i’m getting there.”

Papyrus frowned. “Why do you do that?”

He blinked, “do what?”

“Ever since you've gotten back you act WEIRD when someone says your name.”

He does? “huh?”

“YEAH, AT FIRST YOU DIDN’T REALLY RESPOND AT ALL TO IT, BUT NOW YOU FLINCH.”

He knew he was pretty unresponsive at first whenever someone called his name. For a whole year he was referred to as “Horror”. He had to get used to being called Sans again, but he didn't realize he flinched now. Does he do that when Killer calls him Sans too? Does he notice?

The thought made him sick. Was he really so used to that demeaning name Nightmare gave him that he reacted weirdly to his real name?

His name is not Horror.

get that through your skull. that should be easy considering the hole in it.

He hasn't told Papyrus or the others much about where he's been for the past year. He didn't feel ready to. Then again, he never felt ready to explain anything.

Some things don't change.

Papyrus sighed, taking his silence as reluctance to answer. “WELL I’M GOING TO SET UP YOUR ROOM NOW. SOME OF YOUR STUFF IS STILL AT THE OTHER HOUSE. GO TALK TO TORIEL SHE HAS YOUR STUFF PACKED.”

“oh, uh. alright.” He said a quick bye as Papyrus turned around, picked up a box and went over to where his room apparently was. Only one floor in this house, that's gonna be weird to get used to.

Nightmare's castle was also weird to get used to, but like hell would he call that place a home.

Welp, he should go get his things now.

He left the house. He spared a glance at Dusk’s new house. It looked smaller than his. Maybe there were fewer rooms since only he lived there.

He could see that the lights were off through the windows. Maybe he was sleeping, or out.

He made his way over to the house Toriel was staying at.

When he first arrived there, it felt like everything went back to normal immediately. It was almost like he didn't leave at all, but that was a temporary front. They can't just ignore his disappearance and everything that happened in between.

Even though Sans wanted to.

As he walked over to the house, he noticed two monsters standing on the doorstep from a distance. As he got closer, he recognized the two as alternate versions of him and Papyrus.

They were holding baskets of vegetables. That, along with their clothing and hats, gave off the impression they were farmers.

He felt awkward as he walked up behind them and interrupted whatever this was.

Thankfully it was Toriel they were talking to and she noticed him immediately. “Greetings, Sans! You are here to pick up the rest of your things, I presume?”

“yup,” he said. He couldn't help but eye the two skeletons here.

They turned around to look at him the moment Toriel acknowledged him. He wasn't wearing a hat right now so his head injury was on clear display for them to gawk at. To their credit, they managed to keep their expressions the same, but he knew they were probably wincing internally.

“Oh, you have not met these two yet! They are the local farmers, they hand out baskets of their produce every week.”

Right after she said that, the shorter skeleton handed her the basket he was holding. “yup, and they're cultivated by yours truly,” he said.

The taller skeleton scoffed, “HARDLY! ALL YOU DO IS SIT OR STAND BY THE CROPS AND JUST WATCH THEM GROW.”

“i scare the crows away.”

“THERE AREN’T EVEN ANY CROWS THAT LIVE THERE!” he countered.

The shorter skeleton’s sockets curled up in amusement. “i’m doing a really good job then.”

His brother shouted a protest that he shrugged off, and then his eyelights were back on Sans. “anyway, the name’s sans, but you can just call me ‘suman’ to avoid confusion. and you can call the tall one ‘pompano’.”

“STOP TELLING PEOPLE TO CALL ME A TYPE OF FISH!”

“but it's your favorite fish.”

“Pompano” frowned and rolled his eye sockets. “THAT ISN’T EVEN TRUE. YOU JUST CHOSE THAT WORD BECAUSE IT STARTS WITH A ‘P’ AND HAS THE SAME AMOUNT OF SYLLABLES AS ‘PAPYRUS’.”

“oh yeah.” Suman paused for a moment. “so, you’ll probably be seeing us around from time to time today. we got a lotta deliveries to make.”

“OF COURSE, YOUR HOUSE IS INCLUDED TOO!” Pompano piped. He gave him a smile before he turned to his brother. “THAT’S ENOUGH DAWDLING FOR NOW. I WOULD LIKE TO BE HOME BEFORE THE SUN SETS BACK AT OUR PLACE. THE CHICKENS NEED THEIR BEDTIME STORY!” 

“right, the chickens.”

“YES!”

“what about the cows, sheep, ducks—”

“OH THEY’LL BE FINE!”

“i’m just sensing some favoritism here.”

“PREPOSTEROUS.” Pompano already started walking away from the house.

Suman gave a quick wave to Toriel and Sans before following after him.

Toriel giggled as the two skeletons continued their banter in the distance. Then she looked back at Sans. “I apologize for the delay. I shall get the rest of your things now.” She turned around and walked back into her house.

Sans couldn't help but feel affected by seeing those two skeletons. He thought he was used to seeing alternate versions of himself and others by now but those two…they reminded him of how he used to be. How he and Papyrus used to be.

The teasing remarks. The light banter. The happiness they brought each other.

Of course Papyrus still brought him happiness, that was a given, but.

He doubted he made Papyrus happy.

Toriel returned a moment later, box in hand. She handed it over to him. “Your brother has already moved most of your stuff in, this should be the rest of it.”

The box was pretty small and light. What it held, he had no idea. Honestly, he was surprised he even had enough stuff for there to be box-fulls of it, and all of it was stuff Papyrus brought.

And they moved before Papyrus knew he was alive.

At this point he wouldn't be surprised if guilt killed him before his eye was destroyed.

He bid Toriel farewell and went back home. Again, he spared a glance to Dusk’s place before going to his house. The lights were still off but a basket of vegetables was left by the front door.

He sighed and entered his new house.

He saw Papyrus in the kitchen, stocking the fridge with vegetables. Those farmer brothers were fast, he didn't even see them walking away from the house.

“hey bro. got my stuff.”

He moved his head out of the fridge to look at him with a smile. “WONDERFUL! YOU CAN FINISH UP UNPACKING AND WE’LL FINALLY BE SETTLED IN.”

“sure thing.” He walked over to the living room where the doors to their rooms were located. Thankfully, Papyrus already had his “PAPYRUS ALLOWED” sign hung on his door so it was easy to figure out which room was his.

He entered his room. It was weird to think of it as his room when it looked so different from his old one (and the one at Nightmare's castle). The walls, like the rest of the house, were a light yellow, while the ground was composed of wooden floorboards.

There was a bed situated in one of the corners of the room. A proper bed for once, not just some mattress on the ground. The sheets and pillow case were a light green. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if the room was just a plain white or beige. Maybe he’d prefer it, even, because it felt like the room itself was a “be happy” sign.

Or maybe he just wasn't used to a room looking so…homey.

He set the box down on a chair and opened it. He didn't know what would be in here, but he didn't expect it to be stuff from his lab. Immediately he reached out to the first thing he saw, his photo album.

Geez, he hasn't seen this in a long time. He lost the key to the lab awhile ago—he lost the key. How did they get this?!

Waving away the nostalgia the album gave him, he set it down and rushed out of his room.

The second he spotted Papyrus he spat out his question.

“papyrus, how did you get the stuff from the lab? we lost the key ages ago.”

Papyrus closed the fridge and turned around. “YOU DIDN’T LOSE THE KEY, YOU GAVE IT TO THE HUMAN.”

“human? which—why would i give it to a human?”

He scoffed, “WHEN YOU PRANKED THEM, REMEMBER? YOU HAD SECRET CODEWORDS AND EVERYTHING.”

Sans’s mind was drawing a blank. It took a few to realize which human he was even talking about. The one that killed Asgore and a lot of other monsters. The anomaly. That human.

The only reason he remembered them now was because Dusk mentioned them from time to time. It was funny. They used to be a huge problem in his life but now he could hardly remember what they looked like.

“how’d you get it back, then? they never came back.”

“WELL, INTERESTING STORY, ACTUALLY—”

“no way.” He was already narrowing his sockets.

“DO NOT MAKE PREMATURE ASSUMPTIONS!” He paused, waiting for him to respond.

He rolled his eye. “okay. i won’t.”

“THE HUMAN SHOWED BACK UP.”

He stared at Papyrus in stunned silence. That didn't make any sense. Why would they come back after that long?

“BUT NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, THEY LOOKED THE EXACT SAME?? THEY SHOULD’VE LOOKED DIFFERENT. HUMANS GROW OLDER, RIGHT? AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN STICK AROUND. THEY JUST HANDED ME THE KEY TO THE LAB AND TOOK YOUR PHONE BEFORE DISAPPEARING.”

“took my phone?” Sans’s sockets widened. “....”

Oh god no.

“that asshole can shapeshift?” he muttered under his breath.

He could impersonate people. He could be anyone at any time. How can he be sure he's not someone here?

Is this part of his torment too? Of course they weren't free from him; of course there was a catch. He should've known.

He's not safe here.

“SANS? WHAT’S WRONG?”

Papyrus’s hands were on his shoulders.

“i—” Sans pushed down his instinct to deflect. He sighed, “i need to tell you about where i’ve been this past year.”

[jamiedc-they-them]

Mushy: Part I (Platonic)

Summary: Reflecting on how everything went wrong, the middle adopted child of two sisters reflects on their past as they try to make a better future.

Note: This one isn't as long as my other pieces as it's more of a prologue type thing setting up Y/N and their dynamics with Jinx and Vi before the other parts (if people want them, of course!) will go more in-depth to episodes and build on them like my writing normally does.

Hope you enjoy :)

Seeing that blue flare light up the night...it couldn't be. It just...it just couldn't be.

Vi put a hand on your shoulder, shaking it. She could see it too. She could. She shook your shoulder again.

Caitlin looked at you both, "who is that?" she asked, voice soft.

"Powder," you both said, before taking off. Caitlin hurrying after you.

You had found your way into Vi and Powder's life when you were very young. Barely any memories. Just fire, screaming and death.

Trauma, was what Vander told you it was. He said that it was only natural, for anyone in a scenario like that to be traumatised. He seemed to know all too well about trauma, but you never got the chance to ask him about it.

"Something like that doesn't leave you," Vander told you, one evening, "let yourself feel what you need to about it, but try, try not to let it cloud any judgement. There's always another battle, Y/N, another fight - be it big or small. You have to keep your eyes on the bigger picture, else you get lost forever in the details."

You never knew what he meant by that. Still, didn't matter, at least not then.

Then, you had a family. Sure, you did not sound like the rest of them at all, though whoever said you sounded like you were from Piltover, they would be put down by Vi.

You never even thought about your voice, just took it as was and moved on.

Now, making your way towards that flare, you were realising just how much weight Vander's words had.

Vi taught you a lot, you picked up on it all quick. You were the middle child out of her and Powder. You weren't as good as a fighter as Vi, but you weren't the worst either.

"Distracted," is what Vi would say whenever you lost.

You were pretty sure she let you win sometimes.

Powder's hair was blue, as were the crystals she found. You tried to call it a coincidence.

You hated that you put those two together, you hated it so much. You hated how it made you, subconsciously view your sister when it all went so wrong.

You'd fix that, you vowed as you climbed up with Vi's help to reach the flare.

An explosion you barely escaped brought some heat (ha) for you all, but you made it out, scrape and all to get home.

"You alright, bluey?" you asked Powder, sitting on her bed.

She nodded, "I - I'm sorry about today," she said.

"Shit happens," you said, "try to get some rest, ok?"

She nodded, but didn't make any moves to try to go to sleep. She looked to the door instead, "what about Mylo and Claggor?"

You sighed, "they'll come around. We're family," you assured, "sure Vi and I can speed up the process, though. Anyway, we all make mistakes. Small steps, that's what counts."

Powder giggled, "thanks, mushy."

You never understood the nickname. Maybe it was the soft voice you had, one that wasn't the most intimidating.

"Anytime. Now," you said, getting up and getting a blanket for your sister, "get some rest, ok?"

"Ok. Love you."

"Love you too."

Love was a power thing. Love was a dangerous thing. Love could be all you needed to get through the day. Love could be the thing that made you not wake up the next.

Love was what made misguided decisions to occur.

It led to Vi knocking you out to try and give herself up.

Love was what led Vander to take the fall instead.

Love led to Mylo and Claggor waking you up and reuniting you with Vi to try go and save Vander.

It led to a fight, one you and Vi very nearly lost. You managed to push through, together. Just about making it.

Then, the explosion occured.

You fell and Vi was unable to reach you.

As far as she knew, you were lost to the flames. She screamed. She screamed as loudly as she could.

You coughed...you coughed again.

You weren't you right now, you were the child who was on a bridge on fire, surrounded by ash, bodies and the sound of screams, of crackling.

The smell, god the smell. Strong. Overriding all else.

The flesh burning. The smoke entering your lungs.

Too many details, not enough time.

You slipped, but Vi caught you.

"Don't look down!" she told you, helping you up.

"I'm not letting you down again," she vowed.

You never quite knew how you got out of the building. You looked at it, fire being reflected in your eyes.

You let a sob out, the lone survivor that you believed you were.

You then ran, as far as your legs could carry you. You didn't care about your lungs burning more than they already were or the scrapes on your arms and legs when you tripped from exhaustion, you just had to get away.

The constant flashes in your minds eye.

The family you gained. The family you lost.

You reached it. The flare was still going. There was still time to fix this.

You looked at Vi, the pair of you nodding at each other. You weren't running away this time.

[erodasfishtacos]

Let's Be Alone Together - Trucker!H Prt II

prompt: harry doesnt understand why he asked her to travel with him, why he cares, or why he seems so drawn to a girl who cant stop apologizing and is too kind for her own good.

word count: 3.8k words

warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, lack of resources (food), childhood trauma - this is not a light-hearted read so use caution for yourselves!

author's note:

the first part was posted on tumblr here

there are currently eight more installments of this up on my patreon and still being posted

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

---

YN had laid back down in his bed after they had settled that she would go with him, that neither of them were attached to anyone else in any way, and all this was a bit of company - nothing more, nothing less.

Harry tried to keep his mind blank as he watched the road ahead of him.

It was a slippery slope that typically never led to happy thoughts when he lets himself be alone with them for too long at once.

They would creep in, like slow-cresting waves, and then hit him with the impact of a tsunami.

His body moved in practice, subconscious motions as he shifted gears with ease, flicking the windshield wipers up a notch because this weather was brutal and unrelenting.

Normally, Harry wasn’t concerned about such treacherous conditions where the roads were a sheet of white, snow flurrying rapidly and thick enough the clog the wind streams to make it nearly blinding.

He sickeningly enough enjoyed it because of the risk.

The higher possibility of death.

It was because what was the worst that could happen?

His truck could veer off the road.?

Hydroplane off the asphalt, hitting him into a guardrail, flipping it over until he’s falling down the steep embankment?

He would never want that to happen, only for Birdie’s sake, but if she wasn’t a factor then his answer would be different, most days.

 Harry hated to admit that there were more days than not that he thought about how much he wouldn’t mind such a thing to happen to him.

His life had never been easy, it’s why he fled his home when he was sixteen, lied about his age, and had a rough-around-the-edges older man who had hired him for some odd jobs around his mechanics shop taught him everything he needed to know about driving a semi-truck.

And as soon as he could get his commercial license, he found a job that had him driving a truck from one end of the states to the other to deliver furniture from a custom brand out of Canada.

He didn’t mind the job, except for when he was granted his time off.

It was three weeks on, two off, and for people with families, children, it was rigorous schedule but they looked forward to having the extended time to relax at home before another three weeks took them away.

Harry didn’t know what to do with himself for that two weeks.

His bosses had looked at him like he was insane when he asked if he could just not take those two weeks off.

The first time, he came back to his hometown because he didn’t know where else to go, and it hadn’t ended well - he gave his mother too many chances and it resulted in him heading back out onto the road with twelve hundred less dollars in his wallet.

He never went back, left all of his belongings at his childhood home, changed his number so that his mother couldn’t get a hold of him, and cooped up in extended stay hotels wherever he landed for those two weeks.

Occasionally, he would meet a cute girl at the local bar or a waitress at the diner who he would spend a night with.

He really wasn't a one-night-stand guy or just a casual hookup either, but he sought out those women when the thoughts got dark, when the loneliness seemed overwhelming, and he really wasn't seeking out sex as much as he was comfort and intimacy even if just for a few hours.

He never felt enough of a connection with any of them to visit on his next off-time, even if he had promised it a few times to smooth over the hurt he had caused by crushing their hopes of a relationship.

His work paid for his meals during his weeks on, he stayed in cheap hotels, and didn’t spend money on anything except necessities that his company card didn’t cover which led to quite a hefty sum in his bank account.

Enough that he could purchase on his own semi-truck, used and beat to shit, breaking down every couple thousand miles and causing more financial burden than it was worth, but it helped him start his own business.

He had his own transport company now, just his truck and him, nothing fancy or overly complicated.

He could pick and choose his work, always picking the highest paid contracts, and it really made him successful.

Enough so that he could purchase a new, top-of-the-line semi which he reasoned was the best investment because not only was he purchasing his work truck but his home as he would be living out of it.

Ever since he started his own company, with no off time because he had contracts lined up to fulfill for the next year, and then some that never gave him a break - just like he wanted, no time to get too lost in his own miserable shit that he preferred to suppress. 

No time off meant no life.

Harry hadn’t chatted anyone up at the bar, hell, he can’t remember the last time that he was even in one.

He can’t remember the last time he had sex either.

At some point, the company of a woman didn't quell those thoughts.

Sex workers knocked on his cabin door quite frequently, his flashy truck drew their attention with the hopes that he would be a generous tipper, but he always shooed them off.

He would be extra pissed if they woke him.

At some point between his first job and now, his depression had worsened to a deeper state than it had ever been in his life.

Life was a routine, monotonous and never-changing, miserable and defeating.

Harry convinced himself he didn’t need people, he only needed the open road and his dog, and that would be enough to suffice.

It was…

Somedays.

But other days (most of them), Harry found this sense of hopelessness, the weird in between where he wouldn’t do anything to end his life, but he wasn’t going to go kicking and screaming if it happened.

This world wasn’t made for him, he had told himself a long time ago.

It was destined to be a path of unhappiness from the moment he was born to the woman his mother was.

Happiness, prosperity, excitement towards life had never been an option when the woman who raised him rejected it all.

Harry couldn’t possibly start to consider his own behaviors of inviting this girl on a five-day trip with him around the country.

He was just being nice, is what he’ll tell himself because he’s fine being alone, really, he is.

It’s been this way for years; this was certainly just a blimp before his life becomes routine again.

++

Birdie is always sleeping in the passenger seat during the day.

It was weird to look to the side to see the seat empty, the expensive leather worn from the amount of time her lazy ass slept there.

However, Birdie was back with YN, tucked into her like they were the best of friends, and Harry never existed.

Traitor.

Acting as if Harry hadn't nursed her back to health when she was a puppy, too young to be away from her mother, and completely reliant on Harry to survive.

Could fool him.

Harry didn’t even want to acknowledge that Birdie has never taken to another person, ever, like she had with their visitor.

YN must have not slept well for weeks at this point, obvious by the dark circle under her eyes that had been covered with thick concealer when they’d first met.

YN didn't stir from his bed until nearly five in the evening, he had kept the blinds down, and the black-out curtains drawn so that no light was seeping in to disturb her as she slept, making up for lost time.

When YN finally does wake up, after using the bathroom, she pads up to the front of the cabin, and sits in the passenger seat, legs crossed and tucked under her as she glances out the windshield at the snowy mountains ahead of them.

Harry looks over at her, his eyes accidentally falling on her chest before they’re darting back up to her face - she wasn’t looking at him anyways but the henley she was wearing wasn’t the thickest and the pebbling of her nipples was obvious.

“Sleep alright?” Harry asks, eyes already back on the road, with this weather he didn’t have the luxury of not being vigilant.

“Yes, thank you,” YN replies as she curls her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and resting her chin on her kneecaps.

Harry just nods, he’s not good at conversation, at one point he was but that was a skill he wasn’t familiar with anymore.

The extent of his communication was over the radio, letting other truckers know that they’re driving like assholes or the customers he had contracts with - that was really it.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, it’s comfortable for Harry but he can tell by the way that YN keeps looking over at him and then out the window, that it wasn’t the same for her as the only noise filtering in was the engine.

“Why don’t you have a home to go back to?” YN’s voice breaks the quiet, her voice is unsure because what were they supposed to being doing on this trip together?

Was YN supposed to keep him company by conversation since her purpose to come wasn’t sex.

Or did Harry just want the physical company?

Just a body in the seat, nothing more than that.

“Why don’t you?” Harry replies in a terse tone, it was defensive because he didn’t talk about his past, to anyone, fucking ever.

He felt emotion when he thought about what his home used to be.

It trudges up anger, helplessness, desperation.

All things that his depression helped him ignore.

He isn’t an open book, the most binded close, lock-protected type because he wasn’t going to share anything that made him vulnerable, weak, and the only thing that got him to the point was recalling what a shitty childhood he had.

Shitty was an understatement.

Harry feels instant regret for his choice of words when YN flinches at his response back, arms coming to wrap around her knees a bit tighter, and that has him cursing himself out in his mind.

He didn’t want YN to be scared of him, he could tell she was already a jumpy thing which most likely came with the required hypervigilance of the work that she does, and he doesn’t want her to have to feel that way with him.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes, a nervousness in her voice as she positions her body more towards the door, and away from him.

Fuck.

Harry doesn’t reply because he doesn’t know how to say ‘sorry’ without showing emotion.

As he never did before, vulnerability was his worst fear, and he was going to do anything and everything possible to never show it.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Harry says instead, glancing over at her but she’s looking out the window, head now resting on the cold glass.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” YN dismisses easily, not turning to look back over at him.

And she didn’t say it in a way that she wanted sympathy or that anything like that.

Her voice was kind and forgiving, understanding which just shows how beat down she is.

Tired enough to just accept others' behaviors because that’s easier than fighting, accepting how people talked to her because she was so used to it that it didn’t seem like anything special when they did.

And God, that made Harry feel like absolute and utter shit.

He didn’t know YN, no, but he had a feeling that she really was a sweet girl under all the anxiousness and turmoil, and didn’t deserve that treatment from anyone.

Harry doesn’t want YN to feel like she has to get used to him treating her the same way that others have but they only have a few days together.

Why did this bother Harry so much when in the grand scheme of things, their time together was so limited that he shouldn’t care like he does, and he’ll continue to lie to himself - to chalk it up to a lame excuse.

Instead of apologizing, his voice is probably still too gruff when he responds, “You shouldn’t be used to shit like that. You need to stand up for yourself, not let people walk all over you. S’not right.”

YN picks at a loose thread of the pajamas pants she’s wearing, “I shouldn’t have asked, it’s my fault. I get why you said that.”

Harry hasn’t registered guilt as an emotion he’s had for a very long time, it hasn’t been a necessity, and it’s not YN’s fault that it's pounding inside his skull right now.

There’s something about how understanding she’s being, kind and giving him every opportunity to act like it never happened, and she deserves to be treated nicer - nicer than he was treating her too.

“S’not your fault,” Harry shakes his head, his fingers knuckling the steering wheel a bit harder because going from zero to a hundred of getting his feelings back wasn’t an easy thing to try to sift through - it was overwhelming, and he didn’t know why it was happening.

YN doesn’t say anything else, props her chin back on her knees after a while and watches the open road, her eyes trailing over the snow-capped mountain tops, to the wildlife they would occasionally see off in the plateaus. 

Harry finds himself wanting to talk.

He wants to know more about her, but he can’t do that when he just shut her out.

“You can go nap again, if you want. It’s going to be at least another hour before we’ll stop,” Harry tries to keep his voice more friendly, but it just comes out flat, monotone, bored.

YN had been leaning down to scratch behind Birdie’s ear, lounging right at her feet on the floor, perpetually dozing off - “I won’t sleep tonight if I do. If I’m bothering you, I can go back there.”

She slips her feet out from underneath her, standing up with the intention to get out of Harry’s space.

“No, that’s-” Harry cuts off when he realizes he had wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her, light with no real intention to stop her actions.

They both look down but Harry’s dropping his hold on her, continuing where he left off without acknowledging the touch, “That’s not what I meant. I just know this can be boring. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to feel like you had to sit up here with me.”

YN doesn’t seem alarmed or angered by the touch, she didn’t try to rip from his hold or shake him off, her body language was as calm as it had been before.

It was a relief because Harry was starting to have a sense of anxiety that YN  might be scared of him or intimidating, and he knew he came off…strong, unapproachable, unfriendly is just a few ways to describe him.

However, his intention is never to make her feel fear or concern about her safety around him.

His goal in these past twenty-four hours has become the exact opposite, an intense urge to protect her, even though he doesn’t know her or what she’s been through.

“I like sitting up here with you,” YN tells him shyly, her eyes darting away from him as she moves to sit back down in the passenger chair.

It had been a miracle that Birdie hadn’t snagged it in the short amount of time that YN had been out of it.

Harry’s chest warms at the admission, but he doesn’t let it show.

Of course he doesn’t.

Fuck, she’s pretty and Harry has to look back at the road because he could just stare, admire, and try to memorize her features because each time he gets a good look, he feels like he discovers something new about her.

He doesn’t say anything back, only leans over to turn up the heat a bit when he realizes that she has goosebumps on her arms, and she smiles to herself at that - almost like she doesn’t realize that she did.

And that anger floods in because all he did was turn the fucking heat up for her and apparently that gesture, that miniscule gesture, was enough to cause her to smile which make Harry wonder what the fuck she had gone through in her life.

Harry likes her smile, he thinks that he’d like to see it more often, and that thoughts are scary to him - all of this is more terrifying than it should be because his mind was becoming occupied with her.

So much so that he hadn’t thought much about his depression, his lowness, that dank place he tries to keep his mind out of at all today when normally it’s the only thing that is circulating in his mind.

++

Harry had been very spot on when he predicted that they would hit the next town in just a little of the hour.

He hadn’t eaten yet today and with a realization that he didn’t think that YN had either.

“Did you eat anything?” Harry asks with a frown, he knows that he startles YN a bit because they hadn’t spoken in that hour, and they probably would have if Harry had shut down the initial attempt at conversation, “At all today?”

“Not yet,” YN tells him as she sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

Harry knows to keep his eyes up because even out of his peripheral vision, he can see the flash of her smooth belly as the shirt rising just the slightest, and since when did he find his eyes wandering to that of any woman before?

It seemed that every inch of her body was of interest to him.

And even though that sounds bad, it truly wasn’t in a predatory or sexual way, it was more of an awe, admiration to how beautiful she was, and how perfectly she was crafted albeit much too skinny.

He can see the outline of her ribcage when she stretches, not enough fat on her bones to disguise them at all, her hip bones more prominent than they should be, and all of this a clear indication that she wasn’t eating enough.

And was Harry the person to talk to?

No, not really.

He was skinnier than he should be too.

Depression sucked the appetite from him, but he did enough to keep his muscles, even if his ribs are showing more than his abdominal muscles at this point but it was hard to have any motivation to care about his appearance that much. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did, he really needed to work on his tone.

YN pulls at the hem of her shirt, almost like she realized that Harry noticed how skin and bones she was under her clothes, “I am but I also learned how to cope with the hunger pains when I get them. I try to save my money to eat when it gets to that point, where it hurts.”

Harry doesn’t like that one fucking bit.

“You’re not going to do that bullshit when you’re with me, you got it?” Harry huffs, letting his irritation show and he doesn’t know how it translates - whether she gets that it is because it concerns him or that she thinks that he just finds her annoying.

It’s a tossup at this point.

“You’re going to eat when you’re hungry, no stomach pains, none of that shit,” Harry meets her eye, facial expressions firm to show that he means it.

“I’m sorry,” YN apologizes again, eyes wider and remorseful, “I’ll eat.”

Harry wishes he had the words to tell her not to apologize, to explain his behavior, and that it was all with good intent.

He wasn’t yelling at her, but he was concerned.

Instead of saying those things, he just grunts out, “Good.”

“Did you eat?” YN asks in return, not throwing it in his face but genuine concern in her words.

Harry holds up his coffee cup, “This is my fuel.”

“But…you have money to eat?” 

The confusion knits her brow in a way that shouldn’t be as cute as it is.

“Yeah, m’just not hungry a lot of the times,” Harry shrugs, it’s not a lie.

YN’s lip twist at the side, thoughtful as she reties the knot of the pajama pants, too big and slipping down her hips, her voice quiet like if Harry hadn’t really been listening, he wouldn’t have heard it, and she probably wouldn’t have said it again.

“I really love McDonalds.”

+

[imsogonesposts]

Ocean Blue Eyes, Looking in Mine

|| ao3 || finnick masterlist || an: i wrote this cause i thought rep tv was gonna be announced 😕 || based on the song gorgeous by taylor swift || requests are open!! ||

summary: Finnick flirts with you at one of the Capitol parties. (wc: 942)

warnings: drinking, I think thats it!!

The only interesting thing about the Capitol parties you were forced to attend, was that every now and then, you got to see Finnick Odair. The two of you had spoken a few times in District 4, but never enough to be considered friends. But he had always seemed nice, and he clearly still was, even after all these years, even after the Hunger Games.

“You might get alcohol poisoning if you keep drinking tonight, honey,” he whispered, his voice smooth as silk. 

“Why do you talk like that?” You ask, playfully swatting his hand away as he tries to take your glass of wine away. You needed the wine to distract you from the party. From its blinding lights that were starting to hurt your eyes, and the overly eager citizens of the Capitol that were beginning to get on your nerves. You needed it to keep you from counting down the seconds until you could go home. 

“Talk like what?” He asked with one of those charming smiles he always seemed to have on. The smile you both loved and hated. 

“Like that,” you reply, smiling as he looked at you in confusion. 

You had never admitted it to anyone, but you had always had a bit of a crush on Finnick Odair. It started when you were both five years old, and he helped you up after you tripped over a few seashells on the beach. He had helped you up, brushed some of the sand off you, and helped you look for your parents after noticing your legs had started to bleed. And after he brought you back to them, he had stayed to make sure you were okay. You weren’t sure if he remembered that day, but you did, and you couldn’t help but have a crush on him afterward. A crush that still stood as you looked at his face. At his golden hair, at his dimples, and at those blue eyes that reminded you all too much of the ocean that surrounded your shared district. It wasn’t fair that he could still make you feel this way, all these years later, even if you two have only spoken a handful of times since then. You decided to blame it on the alcohol.

“Excuse me,” you suddenly state, “I see someone I should talk to,” you say with a smile. You didn’t know who you would go talk to, but that seemed like a problem for the future. Right now, you just needed to clear your head, and Finnick Odair certainly wasn’t helping with that. 

You noticed the flash of a small frown on Finnick’s face before he quickly replaced it with one of his charming smiles. “Of course,” he replied, taking your free hand and raising it to his lips. “It was lovely talking to you again,” he finished, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as he said your name. 

You knew Finnick Odair was a well-known flirt, which is why you tried to calm your heart as his lips touched the back of your heart. But the alcohol coursing through your veins certainly wasn’t helping with that.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You suddenly asked, immediately regretting the question as he smiled at you—a soft, sweet smile. 

“No,” he replied, “I do not.” 

The two of you stared at each other as you went over his response in your head. His ocean blue eyes looking into yours as you contemplated how to respond. You felt as if you could drown in those eyes as he creased his eyebrows, looking at you in confusion. 

“Why do you look confused?” He asked as you shrugged with a smile.

“I’m deciding if that’s a good or bad thing.” You replied.

“If I have a girlfriend?” He asked with a laugh. You simply nodded. “Why would it be a bad thing?”

Because you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts. It doesn’t make sense how you of all people could be single. “Because if you’re single, there’s no hope for the rest of us,” you joke. 

“I’m sure there’d be hope for you,” he replies with a smile. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You could feel yourself grow warm at his compliment. “Does that usually work on the other girls?” You joked. He just laughed. 

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I don’t really go around calling other girls gorgeous,” he said with a wink. 

Oh. “What do you call them then?” You asked. 

“Pretty,” he replied, moving a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I’ve ever called gorgeous.” His hand drops back to his side as he smiles. 

Oh. He only ever called you gorgeous? Oh

“Well,” he says, glancing around the room, “I shouldn’t keep you from the person you needed to talk to,” he said. 

You had forgotten that. You wanted to admit you had lied about needing to talk to someone in order to avoid his gaze. To avoid the butterflies in your stomach every time he looked at you, touched you, and flirted with you. You wanted to stay and continue talking with him. To continue letting him compliment you as you stared at the captivating eyes you wished to get lost in. But you had embarrassed yourself around him enough for one night. 

“Right, of course,” you replied with a nod, fighting a smile as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand once more. “I’ll see you around, Finnick,” you said as he smiled, lightly squeezing your hand before releasing it. 

“I hope so,” he responded before leaving to mingle with the citizens of the Capitol. 

[countthelions]

How to Give a Knight a Punk Haircut

"I wonder if I should set a timer next time," Tanguish mused aloud. No one was there to hear him anyways. "Maybe it'll help me figure out what state you'll return in."

Well, he could always count on Helsknight being sweaty, and probably still swinging; sword or fist, it didn't seem to matter. Whenever he was pulled away by his hermit's connection, they were still more interested in decking each other in the face than doing literally anything else. 

"Or give me time to ... uh, figure something out. How to help." This wasn't helping his own problem as much as he hoped it would. The house was so empty without Helsknight. Making noise, according to others, was supposed to help with the waiting. He didn't like waiting. His claws were too loud where they were tapping together in his lap. His tail kept curling and uncurling around his leg. He felt an itch. Not like he'd been abandoned - not really, it wasn't really like that - but like he needed to do something. He had cleaned up the half-finished lunch. He wasn't really hungry without someone to eat it with. He had wiped the table down. He had sat on the couch.

He had tried talking out loud. He used to be really good at holding a conversation with himself. But, looking around the room and seeing all the marks of two people occupying the cramped space, his mind couldn't let go of the idea there was supposed to be someone else here.

I wish they just got along, he thought sourly, then repeated it. "I wish you two got along. It would make my life much less stressful."

They couldn't hear him of course. With a small sigh, Tanguish stared down at the floor. He needed something to do. ... He could... count the bricks or something. Maybe it'll lull him into some sort of nap and when he woke, Helsknight would be back, he could fret, Helsknight could grumble, they'd make dinner, and everything would go back to normal. He traced the edges of the room. It wasn't the worst idea. There were probably better ideas, but - he shook his head. It was something.

One, two, oh that one's kinda lopsided, I wonder if it's the one I keep tripping on - uh, three.

The universe, in all its humor, picked that moment to dump Helsknight back into Hels. Him, and an ungodly amount of water, with an horrible screech from the knight's armor as it all clinked and clattered against itself and the chair he'd fallen into. Tanguish sprung to his feet.

"Fuckin' hels." Helsknight immediately cursed, groaning where he was all piled up. That was a good sign. Complaining meant he wasn't hurt, probably. Careful through the puddles, Tanguish made it over just in time for Helsknight to knock him right over with a wet pile of cloak.

"Ack-!"

"Oh Tanguish - hold on -"

Everything tasted wet, and miserable. And a bit like burnt hair. What was that last part again?

"Did something happen to uh," Tanguish only started the sentence before Helsknight took stock of himself with almost comically frantic pats of his person - like he'd lost something, or as if they had been fighting over something in particular - then found what he was looking for. He cursed about that then fled to the bathroom. The door slammed behind him. Tanguish blinked in the abrupt quiet. Okay? That was weird.

"Are you okay?" He called to the other room.

There was a muffled something that he supposed would work as a 'fine' by Helsknight standards. Tanguish blinked owlishly at all the water. What happened?

Maybe they fell off a bridge or something, he thought, looking around the room for something to mop the water up with. Quickly, because it was already starting to form ice crystals underneath his tail. If it all froze, even in the Hels heat, it would take ages to melt away. They had only a few kitchen towels. They'd need the bathroom ones too. Tanguish turned his attention towards it. The bathroom where... Helsknight had definitely locked himself inside.

Oh, he's cursing now. Tanguish didn't know there were that many gods and saints and other deities out there in the world, but Helsknight was cursing the lot of them like he found the full list and was going down it line by line. It was impressive, in some odd sort of way. There were more than just the names though. From what he could hear beneath the clank of armor being stripped off and dried, it sounded like something to do with fire, and heat, and how stupid the whole thing was - well I could've told you that part - and something something. All this meant was Tanguish would have to wait for the towels, and wait for Helsknight to remember Tanguish was here, and come get his help. 

With a sigh, Tanguish got back to his feet, carefully climbing over the back of the couch to avoid the water spill, before sitting back down by the bathroom door. Idle hands followed the broken seams on his tail's spikes, picking off the small ice crystals that had already started to form from just that little water contact.

"It's probably not that bad," he finally piped up when Helsknight had picked on Herobrine to curse to next. It earns him a growl in response, which was enough of a warning to jump out of the way when his friend slammed open the door in dramatic frustration.

"What kind of fool picks a fight in a geyser field?!" is snapped his way, and Tanguish does, what he thinks, is an admirable job not immediately looking at whatever Helsknight was upset over with his appearance.

 "Well, uh, you did." He answers instead, prepared for the blazing red glare to pin him down. All the spikes on his spine however, don't get the memo and twitch as if ready to help him be more aerodynamic in case his friend decides to chuck him out the window. But he doesn't do that. Helsknight only throws his hands up, storming to the other side of the small apartment to increase his range of pacing. That's permission enough for Tanguish to take the chance to see what happened. 

They must've fallen into a geyser at some point - well duh. The water was a dead giveaway. Helsknight had stripped everything wet off his person, leaving him in just his thick pants. With all the skin visible, there was clearly no extra scars or wounds. Some bruises, but those would heal. No, what seemed to be the issue was his hair. Somehow it had gotten caught up in the heat, and like the straw of its color, burnt all up one side. It was all awkward spikes and shapes, and black as blackstone. It looked like he had met the wrong side of a ghast fireball. Then skidded on the ground to tangle up all the strands into an ugly blackened blob. Then - 

"You don't need to make that face." Helsknight huffs, breaking Tanguish out of his staring. Oops.

 "It's um unique." He offered, joining Helsknight in the main room. "Definitely a little, uh -" 

"It's stupid."

 "Yeah, alright it kind of is." He concedes. That's the point Helsknight wanted him to get to, so Tanguish could give him that at least. With a tilt of his head, Tanguish squinted until the burnt parts faded into the dark brick of the walls. Huh. With a little bit of -

"I do not want to hear wherever that thought is going."

"I didn't even say anything!" Tanguish complained. It was a good idea.

Helsknight only gave him the driest of stares.

"I think you could make it work."

He squinted further. That normally would be enough for Tanguish to be cowed, to drop the subject until Helsknight was ready to pick it up back up again. But, Helsknight had returned and dumped whatever water had gotten caught up in his armor all over the room when he reappeared, and then immediately sulked off to the bathroom instead of helping clean up the mess, so maybe Tanguish was annoyed with having to do that alone. 

And this was a good idea.

"It'd make you look different from Wels," He offered. That lessened the stare. Helsknight glared over to the walls instead, hands clenching and unclenching, as if he was trying to not touch his hair and was barely succeeding.

"Fine." Helsknight bit out, grumbling under his breath but staying put. He looked awkwardly off to the side, managing to tilt the whole burnt side away as Tanguish scurried around the kitchen to get what he needed. Scissors obviously, which he was surprised to actually find in their drawers, and a knife, which he also finds, though it's an unfamiliar thing. Then, he turns to Helsknight. Who was still just standing there, looking all and all like a wet dog. But willing enough to try this idea. Tanguish knew he couldn't let him down. There just had to be a good way to do this.

Should he sit in a chair, then Tanguish could - no Helsknight was still too tall for that. He could stand on the table maybe - or - well, this might be the only option - "Here, sit uh, on the ground. You're too tall." That final sentence kept Helsknight from doing anything else but puffing up like a frustrated bird, before he put a hand on the table and leveraged himself down with an annoyed sigh.

"Don't cut me." was his final warning, before Tanguish's fingers met his hair.

Up close, the burnt parts looked even more uncomfortable than he thought. He tried sorting out the worst of the strands, wincing for the knight whenever they pulled on his scalp. Everything just looked angry, and unhappy. Even the hair that hadn't gotten burnt looked brittle and unkempt, wind-blown. It all snagged on his claws uncomfortably, but it needed to be done, no matter what small noises Helsknight huffed and grumbled.

"I thought you were going to cut my hair." Helsknight's low rumble broke Tanguish out of his thoughts.

"I am, I'm just, sorting it all first." He explained. "Does it hurt?" I'm trying to not pull but there's uh, a lot of knots of stuff."

"No, it's fine."

[pose in mind: tanguish sitting in the chair with helsknight sitting on the ground in front of him. he's leaning against tanguish's leg, one arm kinda curled around that same leg in idle placement, just to be somewhere that'll be out of the way. the lean lets tanguish tilt helsknight's head further to the side, to really cut down all of the burnt parts. they idly chatter as tanguish works on this part]

"Have you done this before?" Helsknight asked.

"Kinda," Tanguish says, tongue out in concentration as he clips around Helsknight's ear. "I helped Tango clean up for some sort of hermit party, uhm, when he, well, after one test of Decked Out, he had gotten a bit of frost bite from falling into his trapped pool and something about whatever charm was in that pool made his dungeon master enchantments go haywire. It grew his hair really fast for a few days and he kept just hacking it off with whatever sharp thing he had close by when I wasn't around."

Helsknight chuckled at the imagery, a loose sound. "I bet that looked stupid."

"It did. All the cut pieces made for a really funny braid, but at least putting it up like that got him to stop cutting it with his axe." It was dangerous too, to try cutting hair like that, wasn't it? What they were doing here was smarter at the very least. These were sort of good scissors, didn't snag when Tanguish crunched them over the burnt parts. Next he knew was the knife. It wouldn't be shaved all flat (though he'd seen that look before, somewhere in his mind's eye. Cleo maybe?) but at least with the knife he figured it could make it all be the same length.

He focused there next, warning Helsknight too. It was a blade, something sharper than the scissors - definitely sharper because it needed to - it would be close to Helsknight's head - but he wouldn't drop it or cut his ear (more than the chips that were already taken out of it from fighting) and maybe this -

"I trust you." His friend sighed, resting his cheek back onto Tanguish's knee, as if to show the permission granted. "You've gotten this far already."

Tanguish carefully held the knife, examining its edge.

"Where'd this one come from," he asked, before his nerves got to him. Maybe hearing Helsknight talk would help him calm down too.

"Probably the same place as the rest of them. EB likes to share, or brag," Helsknight chuckled. His words ramble off at that point, questioning what it looked like - thin, with some small copper swirls down its handle - and telling stories of the times it could be from. Maybe a bet, or chucked at Helsknight during a collective fight. Or stolen, probably stolen, if it had been just thrown at his head.

"So you stole it. Isn't that against your tenants?"

Helsknight shrugged, "he didn't ask for it back."

Tanguish inhaled quietly, and found his hands didn't shake quite as much as he thought they would. He smoothed a thumb over the rough cuts he'd done, flattening it all in one way, away from anything that would bleed - his neck, his ear, primarily - then followed that same path with the knife. It was much sharper than the scissors, and slid through the blackened parts like they weren't even there. What was left beneath was the soft fluff of unburnt hair, prickling up against Tanguish's fingers where he scruffed through the new length.

Just like he thought, with the one side long, and the other short, it was going to look very cool, very unique. Hopefully Helsknight liked it, when he was done. well, if he didn't, they could revisit that potion idea. Maybe whatever enchantments Tango had used for his dungeon look could be replicated. Tanguish would have to figure out some sort of lie though... he had a feeling Tango wouldn't be as keen to share it with Helsknight. But -

"It feels like you're done." Helsknight broke him out of his thoughts.

"Are you getting restless?" Tanguish was ready to tease.

"The floor isn't comfortable." He says, shifting as if his foot or something had fallen asleep. Which it very well could have done. Tanguish had no idea how long they'd been doing this. He sat back, hands moving through all the short sections to make sure there were no long pieces hiding - then once that felt right, he made sure all the longer pieces left were okay. A few he had trimmed up too. He didn't need to. Maybe it was just nice to be able to shift the knight's head wherever he wanted it to go. Just for a bit, to have that physical proof of that trust. The examination had to come to an end though. There was nothing left to check, and Helsknight was getting antsy.

"Yeah, I'm done." Tanguish said, releasing the knight from his grasp.

[Helsknight checks first by feeling it (while his foot wakes up) then off to the bathroom where their mirror is. Overcome with the sudden worry that he messed it all up, Tanguish doesn't follow, brushing off the bits of hair that got stuck to his pants before collecting all the pieces from the floor into a pile with the towel he had mopped up some of the water with.

"You did good." Turns out yeah, Helsknight doesn't mind it.

Tanguish looks over. Helsknight has his back to him - still looking in the mirror - tilting his head, brushing the free hair around, touching the shaved sections with scarred pads. There's little flecks, like stars, that glimmer through the shorter section. Oh -

"You said your hair used to be lighter, right?" Tanguish leans on the doorway, catching Helsknight's eyes in his reflection. He looks just as surprised as Tanguish does to see the old color poke through. 

- some jests about wondering if doing it all would make it grow back, HK scowls at the idea of having to regrow it all. The half-shaved look make the expression even tougher, which the knight is lowkey delighted about. Maybe it'll keep people from bugging him on the streets (doubt). They wonder if shaving any of Tanguish's hair would make little puffs of fire grow in around the ice.

- Eh, touching it, it's not as soft, and definitely more made of ice than anything. It'd probably just make his scalp shiny, like that one time the fountain froze over.

- Helsknight's belly rumbles, reminding him what was interrupted by Wels. They get everything cleaned up, more towels down on the floor (which definitely started to ice over in one section (tanguish accidentally had his tail there oops), making some quick second lunch as they chat about hair

- It doesn't take long to fill the space back up with the noise of two people, as it should be.

[quibbs126]

Also just another note regarding the Primes having gold accents, Sentinel has them too. Granted we all know that, I just want to talk about it in relation to the other Primes and their gold

For starters, it makes him look more like a proper Prime. They have the gold, and so does he, he seems like he belongs

But also, compare his amount of gold to the Primes

He’s got significantly more gold than the Primes, minus maybe the white ones who don’t have any other color to work with, including his solid gold wings, unlike Onyx’s, which only has the bone part thing gold

I think it can be interpreted two ways. For starters, it shows his decadence compared to the others. They ruled Cybertron, but Sentinel betrayed and usurped them so that he could live like a king. You could see this as him indulging in his newfound power. But also, it can be interpreted as overcompensating. He knows full well he isn’t a real Prime, but he needs people to believe he is. So he plasters himself in gold to look more like a Prime, since that was a trait of theirs, even more than the amount they had

I think it’s something interesting to think about. The only real issue with this whole analysis is that he looked the same in the flashback before naming himself Prime. But I don’t know, maybe it was just an animation thing, like how D-16 still had his mining badge in the flashback where he said he’d never mined Energon before