#I had some food and have been in a somewhat quieter space

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[dirtwatchman]

PARTIES: Caleb (@dirtwatchman) and Aria (@ariadnewhitlock) TIME: Current (July 11th) SUMMARY: It's Caleb's first outing after he was freed from the demon and he chooses to spend it with Ariadne, one of his favorite people ever. WARNINGS: None

Three days. Caleb had given himself three days to wallow in the depths of his covers. Lights out, curtains drawn, his body tucked beneath the mountain on his bed that continued to do nothing to warm him. No sleep came to him. Instead, his mind decided to play back every indecent word his mouth spoke, every cruel touch his hands made, every terrified face he had hurt. It wasn’t him, no, but it was…still him. Those people would remember his face, his voice, his calloused fingers and think his name, not the demon’s. That hurt, that trauma that was caused, it would never go away.

But after laying there for three days he knew he had to move. Food was needed lest he wanted to cause even more harm and despite his wrongdoings people seemed to still care if his phone notifications were any indication. Why, he would never understand, but they did. Aria’s name was one of the one’s that showed up the most, a small smile forming every time he saw it. He would text back short answers, enough to satiate her, but then turn the phone back over and ignore the rest of the texts that came through. But when she asked to go out on the fourth day Caleb had agreed with some prodding even if it would have been better to stay away.

It would have been better to stay away from everyone.

Eating before meeting her brought up even more emotion. Memories of the night Erin had come over played back as he stared at the freezers lining the wall. He kept replaying his hands grabbing the back of her neck after choking her, dragging her to those very freezers and opening each one to show her what was inside. The horrified expression on Erin’s face would forever be burned into the forefront of his mind but he couldn’t blame her for it at all. It wasn’t fair how all of them had to survive. It wasn’t fair that death was punishing them for escaping his clutches when they hadn’t asked for that. He survived off the brains of humans, vampires had to drink blood, and people like Aria had to cause literal nightmares to keep themselves nourished…death was a cruel mistress, wasn’t she? It didn’t matter that most of them hated what they had to do, it didn’t matter that Caleb at least tried to make it more bearable in different ways, they were still hurting the humans that they needed.

Walking with Aria towards the candy shop that day, he kept thinking about the way they had to live. He was quieter than usual as everything passed through his mind and Caleb realized he’d never actually talked to Aria about what she had to do to survive. At least not anything past the basics. The zombie looked up at her thoughtfully, knowing that she didn’t like the subject at all but he really did want to know how one of the kindest people he knew decided to do these types of things. Hopefully, he was a safe enough space for her to open up but if she didn’t want to, he would completely understand. “Can I ask you something really personal?” Not wanting to freak her out with a pause, he didn’t wait long before he continued. “It's about…eating habits.”

Caleb was family. He’d been family long before Ariadne had understood the concept of found families – which was something she now embraced with absolute adoration – but he’d always been family. He’d known her parents since before she was born, and he’d known her since she was born, and now they were both dead, but also not. It was uncomfortable and complex, but at the same time, though she knew it was a selfish way of thinking, Ariadne was grateful that she had someone who’d known her for her whole life (there were photos of him holding her just after she’d come back from the hospital) could at least halfway somewhat understand what she was going through.

The two of them had decided to go to a candy store, which wasn’t something she’d ever refuse, but especially not when it also involved one of her most favorite people in the whole world. Cass and Wynne were top of the list when it came to favorite people, but Caleb – and Leila – and Inge – and Monty – and others – came quickly following. Ariadne didn’t like the idea of picking favorites, but she was rather fond of having so many people come to mind when she thought of people who loved her. “Uh, yeah.” She shook her head, focusing on Caleb’s question. “Um - I. Okay?” She certainly didn’t like talking about how she ate, but she figured she at least owed it to Caleb to hear him out. She trusted him, and he was someone who she’d be safe with, even in a world where she wasn’t sure how often she really felt safe any more. “What, uh, do you wanna know?”

He regretted the question immediately. Her response wasn’t exactly a no but he could tell that she was already uncomfortable with this discussion by the small hesitation that came with it, the momentary loss of words. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, of course, I’d never pressure you into it. It’s just…been on my mind a lot. Not your eating habits specifically, but the dead's eating habits in general.” He was stalling and it was clear, Caleb sighing while he ran nervous fingers through his curls. Maybe he shouldn’t have even brought it up in the first place but he couldn’t seem to get it off of his mind. 

“How do you…” He looked down, staring at his feet while they walked. “How do you choose who to haunt?” The zombie finally looked back up at the blonde, hoping that she understood his genuine curiosity. The last thing he’d ever want was for Aria to think he was judging her in any way, especially since he had to do subjectively worse things to survive. “Do you have some sort of system or do you choose at random?” 

The worst part of all of this? He was essentially asking because he was in that dangerous territory where he might have to start choosing victims himself. But instead of making their nights unbearable, Caleb was going to be killing them. If Aria ever found out why he was asking he knew she could end up hating him no matter how long they’d been in each other's lives or how much they cared for each other. And that thought was unbearable. It only made him hate that he had asked even more. 

“No, I know you wouldn’t ever pressure me.” That wasn’t a lie, not even one bit. “It’s a bit odd, how we both ended up like this. Though in different sorts of ways…” Ariadne let her voice trail off. It wasn’t the time to hyperfocus on that, no matter how much part of her (or more than just a small part of her) wanted to focus on that. They were important to her parents and had both wound up dead. Except also not. Dead-but-not-dead, which was a weird place to be. Knowing people like Inge and Leila and Monty was helpful, but none of them had known her when she was alive. Caleb had known her since she was born.

Which meant he knew every version of her and which meant that he was safe. Endlessly so.

At his question, Ariadne froze. Only for a moment, but enough to have to shake herself out of it. Enough to let her focus shift elsewhere before it returned back to Caleb.

“I – I choose people who are cruel, or mean, or who’ve done bad things.” Which was, of course, due to the fact that that made it easier for her to justify. Though if her logic was to feed on bad people, then she should’ve fed on herself. Which wasn’t possible, but it was how things should’ve gone, if Ariadne actually followed her own set of rules. “So, uh, yeah. It’s – well, it makes me feel better about having to give them nightmares. Not that – I don’t – people still don’t deserve it, but maybe if they are mean then they at least deserve it a little bit more?”

She brought her hands up to her face and buried herself into them before looking back up at Caleb. “Does that make sense?”

Caleb nodded at her, his lips curving up slightly. He should have known that the most caring person in the world would still deny that cruel people deserved their fates. He had always thought that the evil walking around needed to be taken care of, that the ones who caused the sort of harm that Aesil had needed to get what was coming to them. Karma, he supposed, was what he believed in. But he loved that she was so set on nobody deserving the fear that came with her diet or the death that came with his. It only solidified the goodness inside of her. It also made him question the good inside of him…if he had any left.

“It makes sense.” He still wasn’t sure if he would do the same if it got to that point. There was a lot of thinking he had coming his way but luckily his supply was still enough to keep him going for a bit, especially now that a lot of his clients didn’t trust him much anymore. Still, killing people was a little different than causing bad dreams and there was no going back to the cemetery after Erin found out about his exploits

And he had more questions. Her discomfort was stopping him from blurting them out, Caleb wanting to give her a little time before he went right back into things. His gentle voice was shaky at first just because he knew this one might alert her to the true reasoning of his questioning but he wanted to know. “How do you find these people? Word of mouth or?”

“It does?” Ariadne let her shoulders drop in an expression of relief. Sheer relief. Caleb said something made sense and therefore that had to be true. She wouldn’t believe anything else. Refused to, and maybe that was some sort of unhealthy form of denial, but Caleb didn’t lie to her, and she’d known him since she was born, and so there was no point in believing anything other than good things about him.

She swallowed at his next question, “uh, sometimes. Or I – if I see somebody being real mean, I’ll try to make note of it. But like, there’s people who are known to be total jerks, and so I try to do that. Except I did find another – well, someone else like me through doing that once, which was quite a bit of a backfire, but usually it works out.”

Ariadne looked over to him. “Does – can I still ask why – why–” she shook her head. “Why the questions? It’s – it’s fine, but I – just – curious. That’s all.”

“Yea, it does. Your kind heart never fails to shine, Aria. I love that about you.” He nodded matter of factly, a strong conviction in his voice to show her that Caleb truly meant it. He did love that about her. He wished beyond anything that he could be more like her and he once thought that he could be. But now, after everything, he knew he never would. His own heart was tarnished beyond repair. Those hands that had been inside another body as they still held on to their life would never be clean. The choice was simple; let it define him or don’t…and he was leaning towards yes because it didn’t feel like a choice at all.

The mention of others like her had him raising a brow. Had he known that she wasn’t the only mare in this town? It seemed obvious now, thinking back to how she learned about what she was, but he’d never put two and two together before now. “I didn’t know you knew of others around here. They’re helping you out, right?” Because as much as he wanted to be that person for her they were two completely different sides of the undead.

Caleb bit into his bottom lip when she asked what he’d feared she would, almost hard enough to puncture the flesh. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to risk it and tell her the truth or not. She was the only one who still looked at him like he wasn’t an evil bastard, lacking that little tell in her eye that he was sure he would see in everyone else. Eventually, he’d decided to leave their friendship in her hands. She deserved that much at least. “I’m…I might have to look at other alternatives for my food sources. I’m just trying to weigh all of my options.”

“I – thanks.” She squirmed under the compliment, just slightly. Because she wasn’t sure if she was entirely deserving of it at all, but she knew that she was supposed to be working on accepting compliments or something, and so she just smiled back to Caleb. “I just figure being nice is a good way to be, whenever you can. There’s nothing to be hurt from being nice.” Ariadne chewed on her thumbnail.

Another nod. “I – yeah. I know a few. I knew the one – the lady that made me what I am, but she left, probably ‘cause I’m such a mess, but it’s whatever.” It wasn’t whatever, but Ariadne was grateful for those who she’d found in Celene’s place. Leila and Inge were far better people to be around, and they seemed to actually care about her and didn’t think she was a total mess better left on her own. “But the ones I know are real nice, they’re really helpful and I – yeah. I love having them in my life.” She would’ve felt entirely out of place without them, and she supposed she should track down the mare who she almost fed from sometime. But Leila and Inge were more than enough – they were family, much like how Caleb was. “Uh-huh, they are. Helping me. They’re both like, way more experienced and so that’s really good and it’s – yeah.” She certainly wouldn’t win any awards for being articulate today, but she didn’t have to be with Caleb. That was one of the many things she loved about being around him.

“Oh? Can I ask why? You don’t have to answer, but maybe I can help?” Maybe she could ask Mack, or somebody. Except Mack might think she was rude and might not trust her. There was Monty, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to burden him with all that. Which brought her to zero zombies other than her uncle. “I think you should do what’s best for you, you know?”

‘There’s nothing to be hurt from being nice.’ Except maybe your own heart. Sometimes the nicest people were the ones who got hurt the most. A kind heart meant easily taken advantage of, something he’d been on the receiving end of himself. But Caleb would never say that to her. He’d never want her to think that she was doing anything wrong by being who she was because she wasn’t. It was everyone else around them, everyone who thought a heart like that deserved their neglect. Besides, it was just his own cynicism getting in the way. “No, you’re absolutely right. Most people deserve kindness.” 

He felt his hands ball into fists at his side with the mention of the mare that had abandoned Aria. He’d always held some contempt towards her, not only for killing his niece but for not having the decency to stick around afterwards. “You’re not a mess, she’s an asshole.” Words he didn’t normally use in front of her but it seemed Caleb might have a hard time keeping his feelings to himself. At least for now. That temper that Aesil had was lingering and he didn’t know if it was a side effect of what he’d been through or…if he just didn’t care as much anymore. “I’m glad you have somebody to help you out. I meant to tell you I met one a while back but…you know, things happened. I guess you don’t need her though if you have others in your life.”

He let out a huff of a laugh, not meant to be directed at Aria but at the mess his life had become. How did he explain that a demon had taken over his body and revealed to his boss that he’d been digging up the bodies in her graveyard so now he wasn’t supposed to come back to the ground? He supposed he could have said it like that but who would believe it? “The way I was doing it before just isn’t going to work anymore. At least…not for a while, anyway.” He went quiet, Caleb not looking her in the eye as he voiced his own thoughts. “Even if it means hurting others?”

“Yeah I – well, I guess those people who’ve tried to kill me probably don’t deserve as much kindness, but it still feels weird being rude to them.” Which was something else to unpack at some other time because Ariadne really didn’t want to deal with that right now. That made her stomach clench and made her feel sick and also made her feel a certain hunger that she wasn’t used to. It was all wholly unsettling, and even though of all the people she knew, Caleb would be one of the safest to talk to about it, she wasn’t going to ruin the moment. He’d come to ask her for stuff and she’d be selfish and mean if she stole it and used it as an opportunity to just talk about herself.

She startled for a moment at Caleb’s curse, but it also felt nice to have him have that strong of a reaction. The fact that she was worth that strong of a reaction was something that Ariadne still wasn’t sure she believed entirely, but also something she wanted to believe more than nearly anything. “You met somebody like me? I – I mean, I have people, but I’m never sad to meet more. Maybe you can check with them and see if they wanna meet me? ‘Cause I know that given how new I am and how not great and being a mare I am, not everybody’d wanna meet me.”

Even if it meant hurting others. “I – I don’t know. I have to hurt people no matter what to do what I do, ‘cause I can’t get nightmares without causing some level of distress. I think it’s best to try and avoid hurting others as much as is possible, but I guess… it’s not always possible?” Ariadne offered him a shrug. “Is – like – eating live stuff better for you then like from the store or dead people?” She winced. “Sorry, that sounds insensitive. Just – I. What fills you up best?”

Caleb almost did a double take when he’d heard that. He knew about people trying to kill her before, the zombie making a mental list to look into those people for what he needed, but he didn’t know that she’d felt weird being rude to them. “I said most people, Aria. Anyone who tries to kill you deserves the least amount of kindness. They don’t deserve your kindness at all.” They deserved to be in the lowest pits of hell, actually, right alongside the demon that had wreaked havoc in his life. “Are you ever going to tell me who they were?” 

After realizing how much he had actually alarmed her, he sent Aria a sheepish look. “Sorry.” He never wanted to make her uncomfortable around him, always liked being her safe space when she needed one. His mind went back to the people who weren’t going to be in his life anymore after his latest ordeal and he couldn’t imagine Aria being one of those. It was a stark reminder to keep himself in check from now on. “Yea, she seemed pretty cool. An artist.” His eyes met Aria’s again, sad and incredulous at the same time. “Anyone who doesn’t want to meet you…well that’s their loss. They’re missing out on a wonderful person.”

He nodded at her sentiment but they both knew it was a little different. She could still feed herself without someone losing their life, though it did happen. They would be scarred but they could still breathe. But it was almost comforting to know she wouldn’t judge him for doing what he needed to do. It made Caleb much less worried about losing her in the future. Her question brought the ghost of a smile to his lips. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t really know. The only time I’ve ever had a fresh meal was…” He trailed off, looking down to the ground to avoid eye contact. “When I was murdered. I woke up and killed the guy that had killed me.” Some people would see that as retribution but Caleb only saw it as tragic. They had no idea what he would turn into.

She looked down at her feet. “Fine, uh, okay.” A gulp. “I – yeah. You’re right.” He was right, but that didn’t make her feelings about not wanting to be mean even to people who’d almost killed her go away entirely. “I – might. One of them’s not even in town anymore, at least, and I –” Jade still made her freeze with panic, but she wasn’t about to get into that with Caleb now. Maybe someday, but not right now. Because Jade could hurt him and she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if she brought him harm.

Ariadne shook her head. “No, no, you don’t need to say sorry!” She pushed open the door to the candy store. Voice lowered as she practically clung to Caleb, “I just don’t think I’m used to you cursing. It’s no issue, I just wasn’t expecting it. Or for people to care so much about what Celene did to me. That was her name. But it’s not important.” She couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the other mare Caleb knew being an artist. It had to be Inge, didn’t it? Though she didn’t know for sure, and the last thing she was going to do was out one of her adults, even to another very much trusted adult. “Well, if you wanna mention me to her, feel free. You can like – you can use my name, too, absolutely.” She drew her gaze away from his. “Yeah, well, you’re biased.” Still, she hoped he could see the smile that spread across her entire face.

What Caleb didn’t know was that she’d killed someone. The only person who did know was Jade, and that was a whole mess that Ariadne didn’t want to think about. She also didn’t want to think about how disappointed Caleb might be in her if he knew what she’d done. “You can eat other zombie’s brains?” She whispered to him. “I didn’t know that. I mean I didn’t know a lot of stuff, but that’s interesting.” She wouldn’t judge him – she couldn’t – he was her uncle – not literal in the same way that Chance’s dad was, but all the same. He was family. “Then why would you hurt people if you don’t eat alive uh, y’know…” she nodded her head to the side.

She was uncomfortable again. Caleb kept saying the wrong things to her it seemed but it was exactly what he had believed. For some reason, Aria had always been someone he’d been able to share a lot of his feelings with and not fear her judgment but that didn’t mean he liked making her feel like this. “You don’t have to tell me. But if you ever want to, I'm here. We can even talk about it without names being revealed.” The last time she had tried to tell him about this Aesil had been the one who offered to kill them. It was a sentiment that Caleb had shared though the two had it for different reasons. Aesil was looking for fun, Caleb for revenge. “I know when you brought it up to me I was acting a little off. I’m sorry about that.”

As soon as they were inside the shop Caleb was grabbing a bag for her to fill. He’d already told her to go nuts, that it was his treat, but he wanted to make sure she got that message by handing the bag over with a grin. It fell shortly after but it had been there, the first true smile he’d had in days. “I try not to, especially around you. But it slips out sometimes.” Celene. Caleb committed it to memory in case he would need it in the future. “Of course I care. Aria, I’ve literally loved you since you were in diapers. That person took your life and then never really taught you how to live in your new one.” He shook his head, knowing this happened to most supernatural beings but hating it more when it had happened to her. “I’ll bring it up to her and see what she says.” If Caleb ever talked to her again. She hadn’t been one of those slighted but rumors traveled around. Catching the smile, he sent her one of his own before turning his head to look over the candy options. “I may be, but it’s still true.”

Her question brought his attention back to her though, his head shaking as he leaned in to match her whisper. “No, he wasn’t a zombie. I was bitten a few years before I was killed. He was…robbing a grave, saw me and panicked I think. He was still robbing it when I came to but I was too far gone with hunger to stop myself.” He sighed, leaning back against one of the counters in the shop. Caleb didn’t want to get into this but he figured he could talk about it without revealing the whole story. Aria didn’t need to be scared of him but she did deserve to know the truth of why he’d brought all of this up. “I was getting my supply from the cemetery I worked at. I’d let them bury them, dig them back up, and take what I needed. My boss…found out though and she wasn’t very receptive to the idea. Not that I can blame her.” Plus…a lot of other things. But this also meant live prey was the only option.

She didn’t like feeling uneasy. She didn’t like feeling uneasy around one of the people she trusted most in the world. She didn’t like that it probably made him feel weird, seeing her all jumpy like this. Especially because he’d known her before. He’d known the girl who’d jump off swings and try slacklining or whatever the precursor to that had been. He’d known the fearless – or at least near-fearless version of her, and what was she now? Some dried up version of herself. Ariadne shook her head. “No, it’s really fine! We can for sure talk about it some time, and there’s nothing you have to be sorry about. Sometimes we all feel a little off. So long as you feel okay now, that’s all that matters to me.”

“It’s okay, it’s really okay!” She wasn’t sure why she was so extra about trying to placate him, but she didn’t like the idea that she’d caused him any amount of trouble. Or stress. Or anything. “That is true. I don’t remember it, on account of being like, hours old, but mom says that you were there before they even really got to the proper diaper part. Or like, at least really early on. I think you were the third person to ever meet me.” She looked up at him with a kind smile. One he had to be familiar with, one that was much more like the Ariadne he’d known for so long. Up until two years ago, though she liked to think that maybe sometimes, that part of her was still around. She knew that she very much wanted it to be, but just wasn’t sure how great of a job she always did at showing it. With people who she’d known literally forever, it was easier. It was easier with people like Wynne, or like Cass, too. “No pressure to bring it up, but yeah, just if you talk to her and the conversation goes that way.” She shrugged. Even if it wasn’t Inge, and it was someone totally new who Caleb never told about Ariadne, that would be okay with her. She was grateful to who she already had. “Okay, fine. But you are biased. I love your bias, but it’s still there.”

He wasn’t a zombie. Oh. Well, that was something. “Whoops, sorry, got confused.” She wasn’t going to be afraid, because she wasn’t, and as a newly-minted fear expert (which she was, even if she was also frequently terrified herself), but she wasn’t afraid of Caleb. If anyone in this town was safe, it was him. Top five safest people in town, even beating out her parents sometimes, because he understood everything that Ariadne was dealing with, at least to a degree. “Well then that does make more sense based on the question I asked you.” Still hushed tones, though she stuck her tongue out at him. “Erin, right? Somehow we hadn’t talked before, but we did, a bit ago.” When for whatever reason, she’d told Ariadne to stay away from Caleb. Which wasn’t the point at all, “she seems chill! But that makes sense, and your secret’s safe with me. Can you eat like, animal brains? I bet the butcher shop in town has stuff they don’t sell. Or I could –” she cut herself off. She wouldn’t out Monty, but maybe she could ask Monty for some advice on what zombies could eat. “If there’s anything I can do to help you out, just say the word. I could even rebel and break into butcher shops after dark, ‘cause I can sorta teleport. So, yeah. If you want. You’re my family, Caleb.”

If he could have gotten rid of his tear ducts in the middle of that candy shop, he would have. Caleb could feel his eyes welling up as she spoke, his mind foregoing the bad memories for once to take him back to that day Aria was born. She’d been so tiny in his arms, wriggling around every so often when she woke from her much needed sleep. Sometimes when he looked at Aria he still saw that scrunched up face of hers, those tiny fingers reaching out to anything that she could grab. Aesil had gotten too close to her, even through a computer screen. The zombie was well aware that if the demon had gone after her or her parents he would have never recovered from what had happened to him. He still felt broken beyond repair but when she brought those memories back to him, when she looked at him like she alway had with no ounce of uncertainty aimed in his direction, he almost felt like he could be whole again one day.

It was the most overwhelming emotion, hope. It overpowered the despair and the hurt and even the regret. None of that had brought tears to his eyes, not since the night he’d been brought back by whatever ritual those amazing people had performed, and now he was in the middle of a candy shop with his bottom lip trembling just enough to clue everyone into the fact that he wasn’t okay. All because it had suddenly clicked with that smile of hers that his niece still adored him. Caleb quickly swiped at the lone tear that had fallen, trying to hide what she had brought on, before he nodded. 

“Yea, I think you’re right. Your parents called and I couldn’t wait to meet you so I left work and went straight to the hospital.” And then the thought of work brought everything crashing down again. Erin, his job, it was all lost at the moment. But he still had that little girl standing right next to him and that was enough. “I’ll talk to her, promise, and I’m always going to be biased when it comes to you. But I’m also always going to try to tell you the truth, Aria. I want you to remember that.” 

He shook his head at her apology, a gentle reminder that she didn’t need to do that with him, before he started to fill the bag in his hand with candy he knew Aria liked. It would be his last big splurge for a while, fitting that it was on someone who more than deserved it. “Yea, Erin,” He answered, suddenly fearful as to what they were talking about together. She couldn’t know though. She wasn’t looking at him in disgust so she couldn’t know what he’d done. Hell, she was offering to break into a butcher shop for him, something he again shook his head at. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. No breaking and entering for you.” Though he didn’t doubt that she could do it and he was touched that she would even make the suggestion.  With the mention of them being family those emotions came pouring back in but he held himself together this time, only reaching out and ruffling her hair slightly. They were family. They always would be family if he had anything to say about it. Caleb leaned into her, his hand stilling in her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you, kiddo. Let’s go check out and get out of here.”

[johndeerequeer]

Chapter 8

The Spoils of War

Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Warning: hunting, skinning, and vomiting (can you tell Mads has a weak stomach?)

Read on Ao3

“You got plans today?” Mads asked Charles as she saddled beside him.

He paused his meal, caught somewhat off guard.

“That depends,” he replied, “you got something in mind?”

“I want you to take me hunting.”

He turned to face her and considered it for a moment.

“You like hunting?”

“No,” she replied, “but, uh, I want to try.”

“Okay” he thought for a moment again. “why me?”

She paused.

“I’ve seen you coming back with your spoils. I know you’re good at it.”

He nodded and then smirked.

“Don’t go getting a big ego. I just figured if I’m gonna learn, I should learn from someone who’s been at it for a while.”

“Learn from the best, you mean?”

She hit his arm. He chuckled.

“You gonna let me come with you or not?”

“Of course. But I'm not going easy on you. You’re skinning everything you hit.”

Her eyes shot to him as he stood.

“It’s all a part of the process. We use everything, no wasting. So you’ve gotta learn," he said. "every bit.” 

She nodded, though the thought made her stomach turn.

“We’ll head out in a bit. Go have some food. We may be out for a while.” he instructed. 

She settled at the table with a bowl of soup as Arthur approached her. Her eyes flicked up to him. 

“Morning,” he offered.

“Morning.”

“What were you talking about with Charles?”

“We’re going hunting.”

He nodded, watching her expression. They sat for a moment in silence. 

“What are you doing today?” she asked quietly between spoonfuls.

“It’s the mayors’ party tonight,” Arthur replied, “Hosea says we’re in the business of social climbing now it seems.”

She nodded.

“Until then I was just thinking of pissing you off for the day, but I guess that plan is shot.”

She snorted and coughed on her soup. He chuckled and brought himself to his feet.

“Alright, I'll leave you be,” he said, “be safe today.”

She nodded. He began on his way.

“Arthur?” she called after him.

She didn’t want him to leave, but she couldn’t bring herself to make him stay.

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day today.”

He smiled, as warm as the summer heat.

“You too, darlin’.”

Charles led Mads around Bolger Glade, a dilapidated civil war battlefield, as their first stop. It wasn’t far from camp and provided ample open space for spotting targets.

“Let’s hitch the horses here,” Charles said as he dismounted, “Best to keep some distance. We don’t want to spook them.”

She dismounted, paying particular attention to her form. She landed hard, the familiar stinging ache spread through her feet, but she pushed through it. 

“Here,” Charles gestured her over, “I’ve got supplies for you.”

He undid the straps on his saddle and handed her a bow and quiver with a good handful of arrows.

“A bow?” I was gonna use the repeater.”

“A bow is quieter. We’re gonna gather more animals by not scaring off the rest.”

She nodded with a small frown. 

“I’ll teach you. You’ll do fine,” he assured her, “You just gotta be willing to learn.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she sighed.

They equipped the rest of their things and made their way toward the fields. It was pretty, in a haunting sort of way. She could feel the history of the place echoing around her. She took it all in as they walked quietly. 

“So, tell me about yourself,” she offered. 

“What about me?” he replied. 

She sighed.

“Just, you, I guess.” she offered. 

He didn’t say anything. She sighed again.

 “How’d you end up with the gang?”

“They found me in the grizzlies about 7 months ago.”

She waited for more details, but they never came. She rolled her eyes.

“I see,” she answered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Hit and skin something, and then I’ll tell you more,” he said.

She scoffed.

“Fine.”

They stalked silently through the abandoned trenches, waiting to catch sight of their prey. She had seen things scurry by, too fast to identify, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later that they happened upon a fox. It was cantering around some bushes, most likely stalking prey of its own.

“Alright, you’re up,” Charles told her, his tone hushed so as to not scare it off, “nock an arrow, and then I’ll show you how to hold the bow.”

She fished out an arrow from the quiver and brought the tail to her right hand which sat loosely on the string.

“Alright now, bring it outward in front of you on your left. You’re gonna be standing sideways from your target, almost like you’re trying to stay out of the arrow's path as it lets loose. Stand firm, you use your strength to keep still as you aim.”

He demonstrated the form with his own bow as she watched intently, and then gave it a try herself.

“You got it. Now line it up, and draw back the string with these fingers. As far back as you can pull it.”

She did as he instructed. She struggled to keep the bow still. Her muscles weren’t trained enough to keep so taut. She lined up the arrow with the fox as best she could and then let it loose. It shot just above it, sailing over its head and scaring it off. She sighed.

“It may take a while,” he said, “but you’ll get there.”

They continued on their way and came across another fox.

“You want me to take this one?” he asked. 

She nodded.

With the ease, strength, and speed of a lion, Charles pulled out an arrow, nocked it, lined up with his target and released it, all in the span of a breath or two. The fox fell instantly.

“Am I meant to be moving as fast as that?” she asked incredulously.

“Not yet. That comes with practice. Take your time when you can, you’ll eventually gain the strength to move quickly.”

“Now when I gain that strength, is it gonna come with all those muscles like you got? I’m not sure I can pull that off as well as you do.”

He chuckled.

“Not sure. Maybe if you go at it hard enough,” he replied, “now let’s get that fox skinned.”

He talked her through the skinning as she tried her best not to look away. Once he was done, he stowed the pelt and meat in his bag, wrapped up in cloth. They continued on until they managed to spot a small pack of coyotes.

“Alright, here's your chance. Slightly bigger target this time,” Charles said.

She drew an arrow and got into position. She tried to breathe deeply and get a hold of her twitching arms. Finally, she let loose the arrow. It hit the coyote square in its back leg with a yowl as the rest scattered. It fell to the ground, whining in pain.

“What do I do?” she breathed, stomach filling with dread.

“You finish it,” he said as he pulled out a knife and extended it to her.

She stared back at him.

��I-”

“You asked to come hunting. This is a part of it sometimes. It needs to be done.”

She took the knife with a grave nod and brought herself to her feet. He followed after her.

“Do it quickly. A quick stab into the throat will do.”

She stood above the coyote, knife in hand, like the grim reaper with his scythe. She moved quickly in the hopes she could get it done before her mind registered what was happening. She brought the knife down firmly into its throat. Roscoe’s face flashed through her head. The memory in her body of bringing the letter opener to his throat gripped her. Her stomach churned.

“You did it.” He commended her. “Now it’s time for skinning.”

She took a deep breath and brought the knife out of its neck. The sight of the blood dripping from its neck was making her woozy. She groaned as she tried to keep her balance.

“Nice and easy, just like I showed you,” he said. “You can do this.”

She brought the knife down and began to slowly and steadily drag it across the coyote’s skin. She’d made her incision all along the body as he’d shown her.

“Now pull back, and start to loosen it with smaller slashes,” he instructed. “We want to keep the pelt intact as best as possible.”

The sound it made as she pulled the skin back rang in her ears. Her vision blurred.

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” she warned. 

Just as the words left her mouth she felt it creeping up her throat. She dropped the knife and moved away. She began to retch and empty the contents of her stomach on the ground a ways away from the body.

“Take your time.” Charles offered gently. 

She finished vomiting and wiped her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly.

He shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it. It happened to me the first time my father took me hunting.”

She chuckled.

The rest of the process was quick. She gathered the pelt and meat as he had and stowed it in her satchel.

“Alright, I've spilled my guts, it’s time to spill yours,” she joked.

He chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

[yuriwritestwst]

5 times Riddle has a bit of trouble adjusting to cohabitation + 1 time he falls right into place.

Notes: Riddle Rosehearts x GN!reader, friends to roommates to lovers, i wrote this for myself but y’all can read it too, there’s no plot lol

CW: Food, Riddle has a little bit of imposter syndrome, Riddle’s mom neglecting him

1.

Riddle moves in with you after completing his undergraduate degree, not because he’s had the biggest crush on you since what seems like forever (since his freshman year of college), but because he’s now a med student and under crippling debt with no way to afford an apartment himself.

Sure, he could have probably found another med student on his school’s Facebook page to room with, but he’s never been great at sharing personal spaces with complete strangers. He’s just a little bit shy, somewhat awkward, and knows that someone who doesn’t know him will think he’s some sort of control freak even if he’s been trying to get better over the years.

In theory, you’re Riddle’s ideal roommate. He’s known you for long enough and spent enough late nights with you in the library stressing over his GPA to know that it takes a lot for you to get tired of him, so when you offered to split rent, he’s more than eager to agree. He only thinks of the pros early on before the move: the place is equal distance away from your job and his school, it has two separate bedrooms, and there’s a grocery store nearby for reasonable cost. He doesn’t consider the cons, or rather, he can’t imagine there being any cons with you in the first place.

When the move-in process and organizing is complete, however, Riddle is equal parts nervous (because he realizes late that he’s now living with you for an indefinite amount of time) and surprised (because he realizes he’ll be seeing you a lot more than before and is way happier about this than anticipated).

Granted, he doesn’t really know what to do now. He’s always valued his personal time, but he also doesn’t know how much personal time you need and whether or not relationships change when you move in with a friend. Would him striking up a conversation with you scrolling silently on your phone on the couch annoy you? Or is it something you’re waiting for while trying to be considerate for him? Are you worried that he’ll be the one who snaps at you, because then perhaps it’s then his fault for not making the message clear that he would never do something like that.

Riddle’s confused so he shuffles awkwardly toward his room and settles on his chair. He makes a mental list of possible conversation starters but figures that he’s better off staying quiet and playing it safe. He doesn’t want to create problems only after just moving in.

“Riddle?” he hears you call from the living room and almost jumps out of his seat.

“Y-yes?!” It comes out close to a shriek, and he wants desperately for both himself and his heart to shut up. “Do you need something?”

“No,” you say, trying to peak through his door. “Just wondering if you want to chill on the couch. There’s enough space for the both of us, you know?”

Riddle spirals into a new set of concerns, because he’s not sure if you’re just inviting him to be polite or if he’s already being rude for leaving you alone. He can’t believe living with another person is so difficult, but when you call for him again, he decides walk back out, arms stuck to his side and smile rigid. He’s stiff, and he knows you notice this, but he can’t help it. Even the way he settles himself onto the couch is mechanic, leaving a significant gap between the two of you that doesn’t feel quite right to him. It’s just a few centimeters that he wants to close. He stays still as stone.

“You know,” you say absentmindedly. He needs to find a better, quieter way to express surprise. “This is kind of like when we used to study. Not that it was that long ago, but I thought I’d miss us just sitting around doing our own stuff. Good thing we moved in together, huh?”

Riddle feels ridiculously stupid for being so worried, because you’re absolutely right. Why on earth was he so nervous about sitting on the couch with you when he already had spent four years across from you at a library table without a single worry about whether or not he was acting as appropriate company. And during the time, he didn’t worry, because he figured if you bothered to go back to that spot every day without fail, then that was enough. He supposes that if the only thing that’s changed is the setting, then perhaps it still is enough.

“You don’t need to think too much about it,” you murmur quietly, almost as if you were reading his mind. Of course. You always knew what to say to him. “Just do whatever feels comfortable to you.”

Currently, what feels right to him is sitting just a smidge closer to you, so he scoots over until shoulders brush against each other like they always had on the bus back to the campus dorms. It’s a little strange to Riddle, because he finds that everything and nothing has changed at the same time. Yes, he’s still nervous, but it’s the giddy kind of nervousness where happiness and maybe excitement start bubbling through. For a brief second, he thinks that everything will be okay.

He will, though, have to work on the surge of disappointment that hits him when you leave the couch first even though it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. It’s a process of telling himself that it’s not because he’s boring but that it’s just how people live their own lives during cohabitation. It’s a process like most things, but he can’t help but worry why it’s giving him such a difficult time.

2.

And as if he’s not already having to go through mental Olympics to figure out the fine line between comfortable silence and friendly conversation, he comes back on his first day of med school on the same day you finish orientation at your new job. It’s not a big deal except for the fact that he finds himself reaching the entrance with you at the same time.

“Hello,” he says awkwardly, gripping his bag so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He watches as you fumble around with the keys, unlocking the door. The door to the apartment where you both live in, he reminds himself.

“Hey, Riddle,” you respond, not nearly as concerned as he is. “Doctor school doing you good?”

“Thankfully.” He walks in behind you, standing straight as pole while you take off your shoes. For some reason, he doesn’t move to do the same until you walk further in. “Unfortunately, it won’t stay this way. How was work?”

“Boring,” and just as you predict, Riddle rolls his eyes, because as he always says, boring is better than things spiraling into chaos. In fact, boring might be the best thing you could ask for on your first day. “Was the school nice?”

Riddle answers your question with ease, talking about how much quieter the library is compared to your undergrad days, how good the quality of the lecture hall is, and how neat the well-trimmed bushes outlining the main entrance walkway are. It’s only when he reaches the part about how much he appreciates the shine of clean linoleum floors that he wonders if he’s boring you.

It’s like cold water to his face when he realizes that the two of you now walked very different paths. For starters, you’re now fully employed and working a steady 9-5 job, but he’s still in school, same as always. He doesn’t have the excuse of being classmates with you anymore to talk about everything and anything related to his academics. From complaining about difficult professors to proofreading each other’s papers, he doesn’t have any pretext to talk to you about his life, and by extension, you don’t have any reason to listen to him. A pit forms in his stomach when he confronts the fact that he’s always unchanging, always the same, no matter how hard he tries.

(This is especially scary to him, because the more he watches you grow, the more he worries that you’ll leave him behind).

“Looking pretty troubled there,” you comment after Riddle abruptly stops in the middle of his rant. “Were the bushes that life-changing?”

He clears his throat. “No. I was just…worried that you find it dull. You don’t go to school anymore, after all.”

“Oh, but you know I love a good gossip session about the worst people aspiring to be doctors,” you reply with a mischievous grin. And he does know this, because it was the venting sessions with you that got him through the worst parts of his undergraduate years. “Plus, you know you can talk to me about anything right? That’s why I asked.”

“I’m sure you weren’t curious about how the floors of the auditorium looked,” Riddle says dryly with disbelief.

“Not true,” you protest, frowning. “I’m glad you don’t have to walk on cobblestone anymore, because I don’t think you’d last that long in heels without me being there to catch you anymore.”

“My heels got stuck one time.”

“And I caught you before you faceplanted onto the floor that one time,” you add. “That’s why you have to tell me everything, even if I’m not trying to be some fancy doctor like you are. I’m sure I’ll find a way to use it against you.”

“You will absolutely not.” He huffs and crosses his arms. “And I find this exchange rather unfair seeing as you haven’t told me anything about your job yet beside the fact that it’s boring.”

“Didn’t think you’d be interested.” You only notice how ironic it sounds when it leaves your mouth, much to Riddle’s amusement and slight upward quirk of his lips. “Fine. I guess you’re just dying to hear about how close my desk is to the nearest vending machine.”

Riddle, you discover, is indeed thoroughly invested, because even after you’re done describing your office layout, the people you came across during orientation, and what your project manager is like, he asks even more about your commute there and what your work will be like even though he doesn’t understand anything about computers. He thinks this is a one-time thing, of course, because once he actually starts school work, there’s no way you’ll care about what his textbook says or how his professors are, but the following day, when he comes home to you, you ask him about his day again. And again. And it’s strange to Riddle, because even without pretext, he finds how easily he can talk to you about anything even if you seem worlds apart from him.

“Look at this leaf!” you text him one day on your walk to the train stop. “It’s so ugly.”

“Good morning to you too,” he texts back as he walks to his next class. He hesitates on sending his next message, because he hates nothing more than double texting. “I’m on my way to my biochemistry of medicine class. Take care on your way to work.”

Admittedly, you have no idea what the biochemistry of medicine is or what it consists of, and Riddle knows that, but he holds onto the sliver of hope that you’ll ask him about it when he comes home later.

(You do ask him about it later and tease him when he starts nerding out. He doesn’t mind).

3.

Neither of your schedules really match on weekdays with you being gone at work for the day and Riddle at school; he’s sometimes gone first thing in the morning and sometimes back when you’re almost ready to go to bed depending on the day. Even on weekends when you have the luxury of a break, Riddle’s off on his 12-hour shift in the ER from 7 AM to 7 PM. Much to Riddle’s dismay, he thinks he might see you even less than he did before moving in with you.

One thing, however, is guaranteed—or at least becomes guaranteed—when he comes back home Saturday night at 8:30 PM, and you’re sitting at the dining table.

(It’s not actually a dining table but a round desk made for children that you managed to fish from IKEA, because the entire apartment layout is Not Very Big).

He glances, basically stares, first at the warm smile you greet him with and then at the two plates of food with plastic wrap covering them. He raises an eyebrow in question, especially when he notices that the plates are still warm.

“I thought you said you were going out with your friends today,” he comments, not really registering what was going on. He always made sure to memorize your schedule and is worried that he’s slipped up for the first time. “Why are you here?”

“I’m your roommate?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he retorts, and you laugh. “I meant why aren’t you out right now, and why haven’t you eaten?”

“Well, I got tired of being out for the entire day so I came back,” you explain very matter-of-factly, “and then I noticed that some of the things in the fridge were going to go bad, so I made dinner.”

“But why haven’t you eaten yet?” Riddle repeats, scrambling around the apartment to put his bags and jacket away. This is something new he’s learned how to do, talking to you without necessarily being in the same room. The first few times, he does it by accident and apologizes immediately, but with the understanding that he’s tired and busy, you reassure him that it’s no big deal at all and that the apartment is small enough for you to hear him loud and clear anyways.

“I was waiting for you,” you respond. He pauses. “Duh.”

Riddle doesn’t know what to say after except a soft, “Oh,” that escapes his lips and makes his way toward the table, carefully pulling the chair out so that it doesn’t scratch against the floorboards. He watches you, unsure, and copies you when you start removing the plastic wrap off your plate. You take a bite. He follows. You take a sip of your water. So does he.

Truth to be told, he can’t remember anybody waiting for him. Sure, he’s made plans to eat with people before, you included, which would mean that he and another party would meet at the same time and agree to eat at said time.

This is new unplanned and uncharted territory. He always figures that with a temper like his that flared up at any possibility of being late, anybody who knows him would hold him up to that same standard. He never expects anyone to weave him into their time, especially when he hasn’t always been the most flexible.

This combined with the fact that not even his own mother would wait for him makes this experience feel utterly foreign. He can only recall her always eating dinner at 6:00 PM. If he was stuck doing his workbooks because he couldn’t complete them quickly enough, then that was his fault. More than often than not, young Riddle would walk out of his room at 6:30 PM, peering into the empty dining hall and then climbing onto the seat only to be met with a cold, unwrapped bowl of bland soup. He’d sip on it as slowly as possible to delay being reprimanded.

“I’ll…wash up,” he says finally, eying at your nearly empty plate. “It’s the least I could do since you went through all this trouble.”

You shake your head. “I told you, Riddle. I just wanted to get rid of some ingredients before they went bad. Plus, we get to spend some time together. Two birds with one stone, really.”

It’s almost ironic how lonely he realizes he was when living with his mother even though he spent nearly every second of his adolescence under her watchful eye. Compared with how just ten minutes sitting across from you makes him feel, the contrast is almost laughable.

“Thank you.” He wonders if he’s able to convey exactly how grateful he is. Expressing himself was never his strong suit. “I mean it.”

“Yeah?” You place your utensils on your now empty plate and think for a bit. “We should do the dishes together. It’ll be done faster that way.”

Even though Riddle wants to tell you that it’s his duty to repay your kindness, he finds himself indulging in it today. In fact, like his childhood self, he finds himself eating slower than usual tonight to bask in your presence, waiting for him. He feels special, because even though you have all the rights in the world to just leave him there and continue your day off, you stay. It makes him feel like he’s worth something.

The following day after he gets off his shift, he texts you that he’s bringing home desserts from a bakery on his way back. You text him that you’ll be waiting for him, and he thinks that this is something he could get used to.

4.

It’s admittedly very strange to say, but Riddle develops a love for Post-It notes. They’re not for himself to keep track of tasks, as he already has his own trusty pocket book to jot down things he needs to keep in mind, but he finds them rather endearing when you start leaving them all over his door.

He swears he’s trying to see you as often as possible, but with final exams looming over him, he spends all of his free time in his room, studying for hours on end and with minimal breaks. He appreciates you for being so considerate and understanding of his circumstances, entering the apartment as quietly as possible and making little noise in the kitchen. He knows you like leaving the TV on from time to time just to have some white noise, but he hasn’t heard it for a while and figures he owes you a lot after he’s done with his work.

One morning about three days from his first final, he leaves his room for a bit to get water from the kitchen and finds a little neon orange note stuck to his door. Blinking his dry, tired eyes, he leans in to read it.

“This is the last stretch! Good luck with studying! There’re some leftovers from the take-out I brought home yesterday, so help yourself!”

And like everything you do, it makes his heart flutter. He wonders if this is something he should respond to formally, like a letter from an acquaintance, but he’s not even sure if he can consider this a letter. He walks back into his room briefly, rustling around his drawer for a small pack of sticky notes he received for free at school fair and scribbles his response.

“Good morning,

I hope this note finds you well and in good health. Thank you very much for the leftovers. Once I’m done with my exams, I’ll take the proper measures to make this up to you.

Best regards,

Riddle Rosehearts”

It’s still early in the morning, earlier than when you usually needed to wake up to barely make it to work on time, so he very gently places his note on your door and continues on with his day. Between quick sips of water or tea and sticking his head out an open window to take in fresh air, Riddle studies and studies until the sun is down. He decides finally that he needs to stretch his legs and opens the door of his room to pace around the shared area. Another sticky note.

“LOL.”

His eyebrows raise, scrutinizing the small piece of paper and flipping it over just to make sure he isn’t missing any other writing. What was so funny?

“Good evening,

I’m glad you’re finding something amusing. I would find a little context very helpful in this scenario. Feel free to let me know when you have the time.

Sleep well,

Riddle Rosehearts”

There’s a lot more he wants to write like how much he wants to eat with you again or asking you if your work is going well, but he realizes that he has neither the time nor the space to fit the essay he has drafted in his mind for you. He settles for this instead, sticks it onto you room door, and goes back to study when he finishes circling the kitchen ten times. He’s not having the most fantastic time right now, but he’s eager to find another note from you when you wake up tomorrow morning.

5.

Riddle takes a break day, not because he realizes that finals week had run him through the wringer, but because you all force him to take a day off from his shift at the ER by taking a day off yourself. He feels a little guilty for having you throw away your plans for the day, especially when he doesn’t have a single clue on what he wants to do. He’d prefer not to leave the apartment, being worn out from running on four hours of sleep each night for the past week. Frankly, it seems like a waste for you now to be watching him solve crossword puzzles in complete silence.

He’s not ashamed about his hobbies, but he does acknowledge that not many people particularly enjoy watching others write in boxes for hours on end without doing anything else. You tell him you’re just making sure that he’s resting properly, and he understands your concerns, but did you really need to be so close to him? He’s not a child that needs to be surveilled, and he certainly is having just some problems concentrating knowing that if he moves toward you any closer, he’ll feel your breath down his neck.

And then, you choose to rest your chin on his shoulder, still watching him as he ponders on five-lettered synonyms for ‘fictional book.’. He startles from the slight slouch he’s fallen into during his earlier concentration, but you don’t say a word. Riddle thinks you’re teasing him, but something about how your warmth radiates against him settles his rapidly beating heart. It’s entirely different from the brief shoulder-to-shoulder bumping or the electric that rushes through his body whenever his hand brushed against yours while handing you a box of tarts. All of those had been quick, fleeting moments he considered accidents. This was absolutely deliberate.

“Are you…tired?” he tries, wondering if this was perhaps your way of telling him to choose a different activity to do. “You can always go about your own day and do as you like-.”

“I’m just comfy like this,” you murmur, voice tinged with sleep. It tickles his ear, but he tries his best not to yelp. “Should I move?”

“N-no,” he stammers, shy. “If you’re sleepy you could…”

Riddle pauses. The sane, sensible answer he could provide is to tell you to go to bed and take a nap, to tell you not to worry about him because he knows how to take care of himself and is a proper adult. For some reason, though, the thought of losing your weight against him makes him feel a little empty. He can’t really comprehend it, but he knows that the moment he tells you move from him, he’ll be left feeling lonely, and he doesn’t want that.

“If you’re sleepy, I’ll just move,” he starts, changing positions so that he’s no longer facing the arm of the couch and instead properly resting against it, “and you can lean on my shoulder like this.”

You only hum in content, also readjusting yourself, and Riddle cycles through exactly three stages of emotions.

The first stage is obvious nervousness, but the good kind where his stomach does flip flops and everything feels fuzzy. You’re so close, and he can’t help it, becoming finely attuned to your breathing, the smell of your shampoo (which, much to his delight, is his shampoo, too), and the way your eyes struggle to stay open.

The second stage settles down the first. It’s the wave of relief that floods through him once he realizes you’re comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. He feels strong and reliable, but more importantly, he finds satisfaction that he’s able to help you rest. He tries his best not to wake you up, dutifully staying still as a log.

The third stage is more of a cumulative realization of all his concerns since he moved in with you. It’s his embarrassment at the fact that he’s still been so nervous around you, making a big deal out of his inadequacies even though he knows you consider him enough. He doesn’t know why it takes so long for him to realize that even through all his concerns, he falls easily into your affection every single time and that you have never once pushed him away.

Loving you and being loved by you has always been the easiest thing in this world, and he almost laughs at himself for taking this long to understand.

+1.

Riddle rearranges his work schedule during his break so that his weekends align with yours. He figures that there isn’t any point in being home on the days you’re at work, so for the rest of his summer, he has the best weeks of his life.

It’s 9 AM on a Sunday morning, and Riddle groggily wakes up in his room. Normally, he’s up at the crack of dawn, but he wakes up late today—or at least what he considers late—for two reasons. The first is that he stayed up late with you in your arms the night before while marathoning bad reality TV. Personally, it’s not quite his cup of tea, but he’s more or less watching you laugh the entire time rather than actually focusing on the show anyways. The second reason is that he knows that there’s no way you’re able to sleep past 9 AM today, because like clockwork, the garbage truck rolls by for the weekly trash disposal, waking up the entire apartment complex.

He listens from his room to the creaking of your bedroom door and the shuffling of your feet against the wooden floor before getting out of bed himself. Peering into the shared area, he sees your back turned away from him at the kitchen counter where you start to get breakfast ready. There’s never been a rule on who should cook breakfast or not, but Riddle’s a disaster of a cook and would much rather do the dishes in exchange for food that’s seasoned and unburnt.

“G’morning,” you murmur when you feel his arms wrap around your waist and his head against your back. “I hate that truck. They could’ve picked any other day when people aren’t sleeping in.”

“We could just nap together later,” Riddle proposes, slightly flustered, but with the both of you completely free all day, he can’t think of anything better to do. “That is, if you’re still tired, of course.”

“You’re becoming a lot bolder as of late.” Your chuckle resonates through him, and he remains silent for a moment. His eyes follow your hands as they insert bread into the toaster and reach for the cabinet above to grab strawberry jam. When the toast is ready, it’s his signal to start preparing the tea.

“Perhaps,” he muses, letting go of your waist after one small squeeze. Although, he’s not sure if he’s getting bolder or if he’s getting more comfortable. Or maybe it just feels right to be more honest with you now. “Sugar and milk?”

“Yes, please,” you respond, not really knowing why he asks when he knows how you like your tea by heart. You suppose he just always needs some type of affirmation, so with a grin, you smile and say, “Riddle? Love you.”

Without missing a beat, cheeks tinted with the slightest of pink, Riddle responds with a nod.

“Thank you. I adore you as well.”

[manekicatwriter]

hellooo! i was wondering if i could make a request for an modern au sbi x gn sibling reader where they’re around 17-19, and they’ve got depression. they’ve had to go away for a few weeks after a bad episode ended in an attempt and they were hospitalized and sent somewhere for rehabilitation and now they’re coming home and they’re all anxious and quiet and stuff- so the boys do their best to like comfort them and reassure them that they’re loved and they belong there? i’m sorry if that’s an awkward request, i was just recently discharged after a similar situation and honestly the comfort would be great. it’s totally your call if you chose to write it tho, i understand that this is a difficult and triggering subject and not everyone is comfortable with writing things like it. if you aren’t comfy please feel free to just ignore my ask! <3

you’re here, and that’s what matters.

TW: mentions of attempted suicide. please proceed with caution.

hey! i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been through a similar situation and understand how you feel (though my case was not as severe). i wish you a safe road to recovery.

note, i think you asked for their characters but it leant itself towards their rl versions. i have a feeling the dsmp versions would be too chaotic for this sensitive subject.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! please do not be afraid to send in an ask. ANON IS ON!!

Phil:

- phil was very scared about you being so gravely hurt, it kept him up for some nights. thankfully, you pulled through.

- he visited whenever he could. if he couldn’t, he was busy making sure coming home felt as comfortable for you as possible while also educating himself on how to take care of you.

- phil would listen to how you felt, and be understanding of your feelings.

- “You don’t have to tell me why you did it, I’m just glad you’re here,” pulling you in for a warm hug.

- when you got back home, he made sure he and the boys had prepared your favorite dinner and desserts.

It was the day you had just got home from rehabilitation, and you two were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t said much, you felt like you had nothing to say. Phil had asked for you to sit down so you two could talk, one on one.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your voice started to crack. “For making you guys worry about me.” Tears started to form from your eyes and you wept into your hands.

Phil immediately reached over to you to hug you, letting you cry on his shoulder. “We don’t blame you. We don’t blame anybody. I just want you to be here safe with us. Let it all out.” He pat and rubbed your back soothingly as you kept crying. But it was a good cry. He was just glad you came home.

Tommy:

- even though many see tommy as a loud and obnoxious boy with a general disregard for others, we all know deep down that’s a persona. he will go out of his way to make other comfortable in his presence if he truly cares for them. which he does, for you of course.

- he wants to make you happy! when the time is right, he’ll crack jokes and offer to play minecraft with you.

- would tone down the yelling. not because you asked, but he’s afraid of triggering you. treats you like glass. if you notice he’s being quieter than usual and you don’t care, you tell him you don’t.

- if you’re feeling it, he’ll take you out to fun places and to eat. nothing that’s too outlandish like a theme park, but just enough to have a reason to get out of bed that day instead of sleeping in.

It had been a week since you had gotten home and Phil had instructed you to maintain somewhat of a schedule to upkeep yourself. Right now was your nightly routine, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, and finally sliding under the covers. It felt nice. The blanket of sleep consumes you easily…

…

Until you bedroom door opens you’re being aggressively shaken awake. You groan, shying away, but they’re persistent.

“Ey, wake up, it’s morning!” Tommy shakes you again.

You realize you didn’t dream, but think nothing of it. “Tommy please, what do you want.”

Finally, Tommy pulled your warm sheets from over you, making you flinch. “I wanted to go out to the park today! Feed the ducks! Yeesss!”

You sighed. If you didn’t comply now, Tommy will refuse to stop nagging you for the rest of the day. You rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. You could very clearly hear Tommy’s cheers.

You two had gotten ready, eaten breakfast, and said goodbye to the rest of your family so you could head over to the park. It was close enough that it wasn’t unbearable to walk to. Even if you weren’t completely yourself yet, you were glad Tommy was.

After the short walk you two finally reached the park. Tommy immediately bolted toward the pond and you jogged behind. He had already started throwing the ducks some seeds, and even threw it on a duck. It didn’t seem too pleased.

You two sat at the edge of the pond as you watched the ducks eat. “Hey.” You hear Tommy call to you, and you turn your head to him.

“Can we talk about what happened? With you? Is it okay?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“When Techno found out what happened to you, and told us the news, I was scared shitless.” He let out a sad huff. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Tommy kept his eyes fixed at the pond in front of him. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He sighed.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy…” You started, “I’m sorry for making you worry. You shouldn’t have to feel like that because of my actions.”

Tommy was lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking up, “No, please don’t apologize. It’s not anybody’s fault this happened, right?” You nodded.

Tommy stood up, dusting his pants off from the grass. “Come on now, let’s go get some ice cream!” He pulled you up from the ground.

“Last one to get to the shop has to pay!”

Immediately, Tommy bolts in the direction to the ice cream shop, and you catch up to him. No matter the circumstance is, he never seems to fail at putting a smile on your face.

Wilbur:

- i HC wilbur being the oldest, being older than techno by 3 years and older than tommy by 8, like IRL. :]

- i think out of all of your siblings, wilbur exudes the most “protective older brother” energy, yeah?

- remember when tommy lied about his mother being in trouble and how worried and anxious wilbur got? turn that up to 11 with what happened with you.

- with wilbur being the oldest, he of course had the responsibility of taking care of everyone. but somehow you and him didn’t spend as much 1 on 1 time as much as wilbur did with his other siblings

- wilbur definitely was going to change that, realizing that and not wanting to make that mistake again.

- he decided that finding a new hobby with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

You were sitting at the dinner table, being the last one there. You were poking at your food for the most part, and Wilbur got home late from… whatever Wilbur thing he was doing. Phil cooked pasta for dinner tonight. Wilbur put down his bags at the door connected to the garage. “I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

“Pasta.”

“Mmm, I love some good ol’ pasta.” He said, already taking a plate out to serve himself. “Also, hey, I bought something I wanted to build with you. Do you mind?”

You finally looked up from your very interesting pasta. “Build..?” You had no idea where this was going.

Wilbur placed his plate on the table and approached the bags of groceries, going through them to find the bag he was looking for. He pulled out a LEGO set. More specifically, a LEGO City set from the looks of the box? “Wilbur, how much was that?”

He blinked at you innocently. “It was only, like, £25. And look! It’s got a little submarine we can make with a rock and ugly sea monster—“

“But why?”

“Why not? It wouldn’t hurt for you to do something new, yeah?” He smiled at you, shaking the LEGO box in front of him to show it off. You sighed, but smiled. “Alright. But maybe you and I should eat this pasta first before we start building.” Wilbur nodded.

“Speaking of water, don’t you think I could teach you how to swim or something?”

“Oh, fuck off with that!”

Technoblade:

- i think out of everyone in the family, he understands you the most in terms of how you feel.

- not suicidal, but just generally having depressive episodes due to his ADHD.

- techno’s generally closed off, but started to really open up to you because he wanted to show he cares, even if it meant going out of his comfort zone.

- techno suggested journaling. once a day or once per week, it didn’t really matter. just as long as you could write down your feelings somewhere.

- he didn’t explicitly say it, but he also bought a book for himself so he could do it along with you. although, he more often than not just forgets to write in it until you mention your own journal.

- if you want to be sad and quiet, you can be sad and quiet with him. his room is a safe space for you if you ever need it and you’re always welcome to come in, just as long as you knock first.

With one hand on your mouse scrolling through the internet, and another resting your head on it, you were safe to admit you were utterly and completely bored. Honestly, you thought about taking another nap after your last one, but a knock on your door stopped you right before you pulled the covers over yourself. “Can I come in?”

You rose from your bed. “Come in. Oh hey Techno.”

He gave a simple wave and his signature “Halloo.” He walked right over to you and handed a journal and a ballpoint pen. “I got this. For you.” His stare was sharp but you could sort of tell he was nervous.

“What for?”

“I dunno. Writin’ your feelings down or drawin’ or somethin’. Whatever helps you vent.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh Techno, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You gave a slight smile, but saw that he still had another journal in his hand. “You have two journals?”

Techno raised his eyebrow in confusion before looking down at his hand. “Oh this? It’s for me. So we could do it together, I guess.”

You let out a happy hum. “That’s nice. Say, why don’t we go to your room? I want to see your new lava lamp and stuff.”

Techno shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more stationary too if you want.” He waved his hand before letting himself out the door, with you following not far behind.

hi hope u enjoyed reading as much as i did writing it. this format was new for me but very fun!

[bluemusickid]

So what if you come home from a night out with your girlfriends and you admit to Chris that you told them some intimate details about your sex life, probably because you were a little buzzed and he feels the need to punish you... or at least remind you who’s boss?! 😝😈

(Ok so wow this is very highly likely to happen w me lol, I'm a SLOPPPPY happy drunk😭😅😂)

Pairing: Mob!Boss Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, dom-sub dynamics (a lil), rough sex, oral, 18+, MINORS DNI, dubcon (if you squint), language.

A/N: I saw this in my inbox and just KNEW it was meant for Steve. And just in time for @cloudystevie 's 4k mob! AU challenge! Love you, Jasmeen, congrats once again on 4k, sweetie!! I actually wanted to make the reader the mob boss, but oh well. :) Maybe a Mob!Steve AU, AU. Hope you enjoy!

Minors, stay away; YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. Not beta'ed, any mistakes made, grammatical or otherwise, are all mine. I post only on Tumblr and AO3, nowhere else. Dividers by the wickedly amazing LOML @firefly-graphics

(Yes shamelessly using my own gif)

Dire Consequences

You stumble back to your booth from the restroom, feeling pleasantly buzzed. The alcohol was kicking in, and you could feel your inhibitions and trepidations melt away. You weren't sure what to expect when your college girl gang had recommended a girls night out, but you knew it would be fun. Goodness knows how long it had been since you'd left the house alone, without a security detail, or with Steve by your side. The dinners he took you on were exquisite; good food, good wine. The people were a little intimidating, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Yeah, he was a great boyfriend, gave you your space, always kept your needs before his. But girls just wanna have fun, y'know? You'd asked him, somewhat irritably, for some time to yourself, to be your "old" self. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He saw you in your black bodycon dress, the outfit hugging every curve of yours, the heels making your ass curve seem more prominent. He kissed your cheek, told you to have fun, the outfit driving him nuts. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to bend you over his desk and fuck you, just to remind you who you belonged to. But he settled for a deep kiss, the sensations making his pants seem tighter than usual.

Calling his head of security, he made sure to give firm instructions about you and your safety.

You sat at your booth, sipping your tequila sunrise, the booming music diverting your attention. You'd moved to a quieter, more private section of the club. Idly, you thought how Steve would feel in a place like this, with loud music, and people grinding and making out. He'd probably pull you into the bathroom for a quickie, ruining your makeup so that the others would know what the both of you were upto. The thought made you chuckle.

"Uh-oh, are you drunk already?" One of your friends giggled, passing you a shot glass.

"Uh, no, I was just thinking about my boyfriend." You muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed. A chorus of OOOHs and AWWWs went around the table, further elucidating how drunk everyone was. You chuckled, bowing your head in partial embarrassment and shyness.

"So tell us what you were thinking!! Was it a 'I miss my boyfriend' thought, or a 'I really wanna go home and fuck him' kinda thought?" Your friend Melissa drawled, sucking on a wedge of lemon.

"A little bit of both." you admitted.

"You don't get out and party like you used to, hun! Is the sex that good that you don't even want to leave the house?" There were loud cackles at that, the girls drunkenly cheers-ing at that, you included.

"I'm a lady, girls, I don't kiss and tell."

"Damn right, you just fuck him and go radio silent!" Kathy inched closer, "but seriously, your boyfriend's a real hottie, what's sex with him like? He must be good, cuz you've got that glow of great sex on you, baby!"

Sighing deeply, you grin. "It's the best sex I've had in my life. He's even better than my goddamn vibrator." There were loud hoots and WOOHOOs at that. "We need more deets, hun!"

You signalled the waiter, ordering another round of shots. "Buckle in girls, coz it's about to get wild!"

You stumble into the great manor, cursing the house help for switching off the lights. You should've stuck to wine, but one thing led to another and before you knew it, 2 shots had become 5, and you were now buzzed enough to know that you were sure to earn the ire of your beloved boyfriend.

You silently made your way up into your bedroom, hoping and praying that Steve was deep asleep. You winced as the door creaked a little bit, but other than that, there was no activity. As you were about to enter the bathroom, the room suddenly flooded with light. Oh crap.

Squinting, you noticed Steve standing by the door, wearing his gorgeous deep blue silk robe, looking like a meal. Your insides stirred, the conversations you had in the evening stoking the flame within you ever so slightly. There was no denying it, your man was sexy as hell.

"Hello, doll." he said, his voice menacingly low.

You gulped. Oh this was such a bad sign. You would rather he yelled at you, or even shouted a little, than this outright cold and quiet demeanour.

"Hi, babe! Why are you awake? I thought you said you had to leave early tomorrow!" You grinned nervously, trying not to slur or mispronounce words.

His lips thinned, a tight smile gracing his lips. "Oh, it got cancelled. There were more pressing matters at hand back home.", stressing the words like they were cuss words.

You bristled a little. “If you mean to say that I was the matter, then you shouldn’t have cancelled. I’m a big girl and can easily take care of myself.” Jesus, where was this coming from? Liquid courage was lethal indeed.

His jaw tightening, he took half a step towards you, before stopping himself. “I think you must be a little tired. Go change and come to bed...sweetheart.” he said, a little too sweetly. You frowned. Something was up, he was never this calm and controlled.

Dazed, you walked to the bathroom, still a little buzzed, trying your best to get the makeup off. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, gauging your level of drunkenness, which was throwing you off even more. Why wasn’t he yelling and getting it over with? It would be easier and much less nerve racking. With a sigh, he took the cotton ball from your hand, gently wiping away the eyeshadow from your eyes and carefully taking off your false lashes. Turning you towards the mirror, his eyes meeting yours, momentarily breaking you from your haze of alcohol-soaked consciousness. His eyes were darkening, as he revealed parts of your body, inch by inch. You gulped, thinking this was it. This is what you wanted. 

To your surprise, and dismay, he started letting your hair out of your intricate updo. “So how was your night out? Did you have fun?”

“Yes, a lot. It had been a long time since we just got together and chilled, y’know? All of us have our lives, our stuff, boyfriends, it was good to leave all that behind and just dance away our worries.”

Steve chuckled, pretty sure that this was the alcohol talking. He pushed the dress off your shoulders, listening to you ramble on about the night.

“-and then we did shots and gossiped like there was no tomorrow, we talked about our partners, work troubles, oh, Melissa has SOOOOO gotten herself into an FWB situation with her boss, it’s so juicy, and-”

Steve smiled till he heard the boyfriend part. Knowing how willingly you were giving up information to him now, only the Lord knows what you would’ve said about him. Clearing his throat, he asked, “partners? What about them?”

Your eyes widened a little, as you averted your gaze. Shit. The word vomit should’ve been controlled better. You knew Steve would catch your bluff in an instant.

“Oh..you know...general stuff..” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t need to wonder for long, since he turned you to face him, his gaze unreadable.

“Try again, sweetheart. This time, the truth, please.”

“Just a few things, like dates..and...sex..and stuff...” you mumbled, your earlier bravado forgotten as you heard Steve’s growling order. You looked at him to see his head cocked to one side, eyebrow raised. He wanted more information. Uh-oh.

“I just told them about that time you tied me up, or when you used a clit stimulator and our sex swing. But that’s it, I swear!” you hurriedly add, seeing his nose flare again. 

You were expecting the worst. But he didn’t do anything. Instead, he finished undressing you, dressed you in your sleeping shirt and picked you up bridal style, placing you on the bed. Switching off the lights, he spooned you from behind, his arm circling your waist. Puzzled, you settled in for the night, desperate to ask him what the matter was. You slowly drift off, his arms cocooning you protectively.

You woke up the next morning, in high spirits. Your thigh atop Steve’s you relished in the feel of him against you, his warmth, his scent the most calming thing in the world. You snuggled into him, your breath ever-so slightly tickling his neck. He grunted, shifting a bit, cracking open an eye.

"Good morning sweetheart." He rasped, his morning voice scratchy. It was kinda hot, you realised, as you slightly rubbed your core against him, hoping to entice him. He groaned, turning to face you, his nose mere inches from you. Oh, this was it. Finally. The anticipation since yesterday night was killing you.

Rubbing his nose against yours, he left a small peck on your lips. You tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back, kissing your forehead. You frowned, unable to understand his hands-off approach.

"Gotta go, have some work to complete, doll." He mumbled, making his way to the shower. You contemplated joining him but heard the door lock. What was with him? What had you done??

You got up, pulling on some shorts, ready to confront him when he got out. All guns blazing.

You stopped short when you saw him come out of the bathroom, steam engulfing his form. The towel was hanging loosely from his hips, making you lose your train of thought. You couldn't take it anymore. Lunging at him, you lock your hands behind his neck, attacking your lips with his. He gasped, surprised by your sudden attack, catching you as you wound your legs around him. After a beat, he started kissing you back, his tongue caressing yours, his hands pulling you closer to him, kneading your ass. Walking back, he deposited you on the bed, his towel falling off in the process. He was on you in a beat, kissing you like there was no tomorrow. You hungrily kissed back, running your fingernails across his muscular torso. He groaned, thrusting against your core, the thin barrier of your shorts ignored. You gasped as the action lit up your insides, the coarse material of the shorts adding to the sensations. Your hands made their way to his hips, pulling him closer, wanting more. He panted, mouth slack as he picked up his rhythm, rutting against you. You moaned, cupping his cheeks, warmth flooding through you and coursing through your veins. Kissing down the column of your neck, he buried his nose between your breasts, his hips gaining momentum. You couldn't believe it; here you were, humping like adolescents, and yet, it was firing you up like nothing else. You could feel yourself getting closer to your peak when suddenly, Steve stopped his actions. Sitting up, he gave himself a few strokes before he came on your breasts, his spend trickling down your belly, his growl ringing in your ears. You couldn't believe it. That son of a bitch had left you hanging. This had almost never happened. You sat up indignantly, ready to unleash hellfire.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST-"

Your words were cut off by a knock on the door. Pulling on a pair of shorts, Steve opened the door slightly, talking to his head of security, as you silently fumed, murmuring petulantly to yourself. The audacity of this man. Closing the door behind him, he then proceeded to get dressed quickly, like nothing had happened. Not giving you a chance to say anything, he kissed your hand before adding gruffly, "we'll talk about this later." He left you to stew in your irritation and sexual frustration, all the while wondering what exactly is it that you did to have this punishment meted out to you. You took care of your needs in the shower, pissed off that it was your hand at your core and not his tongue or mouth, working their magic.

With the streaks of orange settling in the sky, it brought with it the promise of "talking later." You'd just gotten back from classes, dressing yourself in an emerald green teddy with matching stockings, hidden underneath your floor length gown. You'd hoped to entice Steve into action with it, the want and need to have him within you unbearable with every passing moment.

Waltzing down the corridor to his study, you knocked a few times before entering. Steve was sitting at his desk, reading some documents. Your mouth watered at the sight in front of you: Steve in a black dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, his black leather chest holster sitting tight against his wall of muscle. You could feel your core tighten, wanting nothing more than for him to throw you to the floor and fuck you in a frenzy. You gulped, suddenly realising that in the battle of seduction, he was probably winning. And he wasn't even trying.

"Sweetheart, you just gonna stand there gawking, or are you gonna say something?" He drawled, raising his eyebrow, mouth quirked up in amusement. You looked down, suddenly a little shy. Control yourself, you have to win this, you reprimanded yourself.

"I was just wondering where you were. We were gonna have a talk, weren't we? I'd hate to be late to an appointment with you, I know how much you hate waiting." you said, your voice silky, going straight to Steve's groin. He clenched his jaw, leaning back in his chair, his mind working a mile a minute. You took the opportunity to saunter towards him, making sure to maintain eye contact with him as you sunk to the floor, eye level with his crotch. His eyes darkened, his thighs tightening around your torso, as he sat back. He was waiting for your next move; the ball was in your court. Running your palms over his thighs, you kissed him through the soft material of his slacks. He really did have amazing legs; well sculpted, strong. Reaching his crotch, you nuzzled him, leaving kisses on the tent which had formed.

Standing up suddenly, he grabbed your hand, hoisting you up to stand, as he took a velvet pouch from the drawer.

"You know what, sweetheart, I think we should continue this in the bedroom. Come." He ordered, his voice thick with emotion. Bewildered, you placed your hand in his as he practically dragged you to your room. Maybe the seduction worked better than you had expected.

Locking the door behind him, he turned to face you. His eyes were a dangerous mixture of lust, love and anger. You didn't know whether to fear it, or to revel in it. All you knew was that you needed him, like the air you breathed; you were a starving woman at a banquet.

"So, you wanted to talk. Talk, princess."

You gulped. "Why have you been keeping your distance from me since yesterday?"

He smirked, his smile evil. This smile. You'd only seen it a handful of times before. When a particularly difficult connection made the mistake of being an informant for the police, Steve had merely smiled at the news. It made your blood run cold. The next day, the connection was found dead in the most gruesome way.

He walked towards you, like a predator stalking his prey. Your back hit the bed as you walked back, legs moving of their own accord. Your heart rate spiked, your words stuck in your throat. Steve stood in front of you, his gaze impassive. Bending down, he hauled you over his shoulder, throwing you onto the bed. You squealed, bouncing on the bed, gawking at Steve. Truth be told you were a little scared, you'd never seen him so unhinged. Sure, he was kinky, but he made sure that he never unleashed his angry mob boss in bed.

And now? Now you found yourself on the bed, your teddy pulled down to your breasts. Steve was laving on them, his tongue a hot brand on your overheated body. You wanted to hold him, to run your hands through his hair, but he'd handcuffed you to the bed. Asshole.

"You see, princess, I'm a private person. And you told your friends about our personal life. That's a little...rude, wouldn't you say?"

"Steve, I swear, it was the alcohol, I didn't mean to tell them OH-!" You broke off, feeling Steve circle your nub, his finger intrepid and curious. He pressed his lips against your open mouth, slipping a finger into your channel. You whined, wanting more. He was doing this to prove a point.

"I'm sorry, Steve, it was a mistake! It was a lapse, I swear!" You wailed, feeling his fingers stop. Sitting up, he grinned as he moved to retrieve the pouch he had gotten earlier. Moving down your body, leaving fleeting kisses as he did.

You jerked as you felt something smooth running along your inner thigh, raising your head. You met his gaze, his grin lascivious as he rasped, "trust me." You gasped as you felt an intrusion, a small rubber disc pushed into you.

"Steve, what-"

"Shhh. Consider this a punishment, sweetheart." He held up a remote, "this controls the level of vibrations of the toy. Let's see how well you take this punishment."

You gulped, wrenching your eyes shut as he switched the damn thing on, the vibrations wreaking havoc on your already sensitive nub. You suddenly felt a jolt, sensing that Steve had increased the intensity.

"S..Steve..I.."

He caressed your breasts, tweaking your engorged peak. You jerked your neck to the side, unable to handle the stimulation. Your legs shook, groaning aloud as you felt Steve's tongue lick a stripe along your drenched folds.

"Steve, please, please, please!" you could hear yourself pathetically beg, but you didn't care. Your dam was about to burst, when all of a sudden, Steve switched off the toy. You screamed in frustration, wanting nothing more than to strangle Steve, the way you were feeling.

Hoisting himself up on his hands he rubbed his nose against you, chuckling at your expression; practically staring him to death. Running his tip along your folds, he pushed into you in one swift move, with the toy still inside. You looked up at him in bewilderment, eyes widening as you felt the vibrations start again.

With that, Steve unleashed all his pent-up energy since yesterday. He didn't give you a moment to adjust, his rhythm unwavering and unapologetic. Each thrust was aided by the vibrations of the toy, threatening to drive you insane. You felt tears pool in your eyes as the sensations overwhelmed you beyond your capacity. You tugged at the handcuffs, wanting to hold him, to steady his rhythm, but he was lost to the feelings as well.

"Take it, slut. Take it all. I hope you've learnt your lesson now." He grunted, groaning as he felt your walls contract at his filthy words. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself steadily approach your peak. This time, he didn't stop, instead doubling his speed, leaving bites along the column of your neck.

You screamed as the belly in your coil unfurled, the dam finally breaking. The tears wouldn't stop as you felt the aftershocks run through your body, like liquid electricity. Your legs felt like they'd just run a marathon, hanging limply from the side of the bed. Steve followed shortly after, shouting as he reached his peak, his spend coating your walls, your core clenching around him as the last aftershocks subsided. He slowly pulled out of you, pulling the toy out gently, mumbling apologies as you hissed.

Opening your eyes, you saw him undo the cuffs, stretching beside you as you gathered your wits. You ran your fingers through his beard, the prickly sensation welcome against your palm. You grinned mischievously as you told him,

"This was definitely a thousand times better than what I told the girls."

OK IT'S NOT THE BEST BUT OMFG I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.

🔖: Permatag: @donutloverxo @gotnofucks @imdarkinme @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @denisemarieangelina @chrissquares @readermia @savior-adriana @a-little-counter-esperanto @ozarkthedog

Steve Rogers: @worksby-d @chris-butt @patzammit @tenaciousperfectionunknown @starlightcrystalline @tinylumpiaa @whosmarisaaarw @captainsdolly @jbreenr @melli0112 @harrysthiccthighss @iwannabekilledtwice @bigchoose @violentyoshi @sohoseb @danluell @whxre4cevans @wandaxvixion-blog @syalise @undecidedsworld @nekoannie-chan @xoxonotme

[anxiouslyfred]

Connections - DRLAMP

Summary: The 6 Soulmates all plan an evening together, to enjoy being with each other altogether now all the connections have formed.

Conclusion to my DRLAMP soulmate au, now all 6 sides know of their connections to each of the others. There are 15 other parts each focusing on 1 ship as they get together

/\/\

It wasn't the first time they'd had a party just for the six of them. That had basically become somewhat of a tradition for birthdays since Virgil's 25th. Roman had insisted on it after being told Janus had no plans for theirs before that.

This was however the first time they were deliberately spending time all together since all the soulmate connections formed, and that made the evening important. Virgil and Logan had both tried claiming that the importance wasn't real, that the evening could just be treated as a normal one since they'd already been acting as if everyone was together and connected whether through others or through their own connections. They were very much overruled by Patton and Roman's sentimentality, by Janus's joy in grand events and having anniversaries to add to the calendar and by Remus's wish for chaos which important events always left the opportunities for.

“Candles and sweet decorations are a must for memorable events! As my apartment has the largest space, and having learnt from the chaos that our birthday was sent into over location, I propose that we host our event there. I'll ensure everything is decorated impeccably.” Roman had decided while they were discussing it, ignoring any concerns raised over candles being a fire hazard and any requests for a quieter evening.

Patton had been the one to claim something to do for the event next. “We can't have a party or gathering without food. I'll get treats baked for all of us. If anyone wants anything specific to eat, just let me know or I'll stick with our favourite dishes.”

“Please, this evening is meant to be a relaxing time for us all to enjoy being soulmates together. Surely some drinks would be nice. I've learnt how to make a few delightful cocktails that I'm sure we'd all enjoy.” Janus had replied, brushing off concerns over the group getting drunk with promises of mocktails and hot drinks also being on the menu.

Virgil was uncertain what else there could be to bring, but definitely realised there was no real plan for the evening besides decorations, food and drinks. “Guys, unless you're making all this ordeal for us just to end up curled in front of Roman's TV, I'll bring some games. No monopoly will not be included in that list, Pat.”

“But Poker will be.” Remus and Janus stated simultaneously with Remus making a stern nod.

“No it won't and if you try I will destroy any cards you bring.” Virgil countered, resolute against giving either of them the chance to bring any kind of gambling into the party.

Remus groaned but saluted teasingly. “Well then I'm bringing the garden! No soulmate evening can be complete without getting covered in mud and flower petals!”

“I can assure you, any evening can be complete without that.” Logan blinked frowning. “How on earth would you suggest bringing a garden anywhere?”

“Don't Answer That Remus!” Roman snapped as soon as the question was asked. “And if you feel the need to bring flowers make sure they are actually in pots held correctly. I'll have soaps and hand sanitisers stocked up so we aren't handling your plants then eating. You know too many poisonous plants for me to trust.”

Logan frowned again, looking between the twins and half tempted to ask his question again, only directed to Roman now. There was definitely some story behind the reaction. Instead he focused on the end of Roman's sentence. “Perhaps I can bring my first aid kit, should you deem it important to have?” He offered.

“Between Roman, Remus and Patton why weren't you intending to have it with you already?” Virgil asked quietly, in an aside. “I'm still trying to get small kits hidden in each of their homes.”

“Patton included?” Everything else made sense to Logan, but he had to check.

“She's a clutz when excited over something. This thing they're planning definitely has her excited.” Virgil explained.

Patton only helped proving that point by trying to jump up and instead tripping over his feet, ending up still sat just a little left of where he was before. “That looks like we've all got something to bring to this now Kiddos.”

“You're the youngest of us all. Why must you insist on calling us Kiddos?” Roman asked, pouting slightly.

“Because I get to look after and love you all.” Patton nodded as if that made perfect sense and she didn't need to explain further.

None of the others were quite sure who groaned, but everyone was feeling the urge to.

/\/\

There were, as far as Roman could manage, candles everywhere. Virgil walked in and immediately started checking the areas around all of them to ensure nothing was above the flames, there was no flammable objects too close to the candles that could be knocked over.

“Ah, I should have expected you to go extravagant. Can I ask if you have actually put the heating on or if all the candles lit are providing the warmth in here?” Logan smiled, looking around in curiosity.

“Just the warmth of the flames and each other to keep us warm tonight, Logan. I'm glad you approve of my decorations.”

Virgil turned with a scowl on his face. “Just how much are you hoping to set your apartment on fire? Have you met your brother? I've literally heard him plotting over how to strangle Janus before now.”

“And I'm still entirely charmed every time he tries.” Janus agreed, entering without knocking as if they owned the apartment. “Such a delightful ambience in here.”

Roman grinned, waving them over to the sofa. “Thank you  Jay, and if you haven't seen Remus around fire before then I think you'll be surprised by-” His words were cut off in a splash of water being thrown through the door, covering him.

“No fires are happening here! I'm ready!” Remus yelled, barging in from where Logan had caught the door on Janus's entrance. There was an empty bucket on one of his arms while his hands held another mostly full bucket. Now holding the door open was a low cart full of potted plants.

“Virgil, are you still concerned over fire hazards?” Roman muttered, wiping away some of the water with a smirk, no matter how drenched he now was.

Virgil snorted, “Nope, It's upgraded to flooding hazards, but I'm guessing that would be bad for the flowers Remus insisted on bringing.”

Before the reply could be given they were turning to a knock on the still open door. “Hey Kiddos, can someone give me a hand bringing the rest of the snacks up?” Patton asked, trying to feel his way in with one leg kicking out since there was a number of plastic boxes blocking his view.

Roman moved to take a few from the top immediately. “I'll show you where we can lay these out, Pat. Is there much more to come up?” He offered.

“Thank you, Ro.” Patton sighed before blinking at him, “But you are definitely not helping me like that! Go and get into something dry before you catch your death!”

Remus perked up at that but Logan had stepped over to claim his full bucket before it could be upended over his head. “Loooo, How am I meant to catch death if you won't let me get drenched!?”

“You aren't and I agree with Patton. Roman you should get into dry clothes while Remus and I help bring in Patton's contributions, and Janus's if they need to bring anything in?” Logan looked over to Janus only to have a head-shake in reply.

“And here I was sure you'd all be enjoying the wonderful display of my body through my clinging wet shirt.” Roman playfully pouted, “But fine, I'll get myself into something dry. Oh and Janus brought the stuff they want to make drinks from over yesterday.”

“And I dropped the games I brought at the door, beside your bag.” Virgil reminded before he could be checked on.

When just greeting all your soulmates for a get together is as chaotic as that, the evening could only become calmer as they settled into the time.

[sneezyminniejo]

If you could write a sick sneezy soobin who when he gets a head cold actually sneezes in fours and very kitten like so his members are very surprised and think it's really cute because he usually sneezes very loudly so they kinda try to make him snz and then feel guilty and take care of him!

Here it is, hope you enjoy

Sneezy Does It

Soobin groaned as he woke up and noticed he couldn’t really breathe through his nose. He sat up and did a quick evaluation of his body. He noticed that he had a mild headache and his throat was hurting a little. Upon checking the pollen count and seeing it was rather low, Soobin came to the conclusion that he had caught a cold. Seeing as he didn’t have any of the usual discomfort that came with his chest colds, he assumed that he had caught a head cold and slowly got out of bed to get ready for the day.

Soobin is normally the first one awake, but today it appeared that Taehyun beat him. The leader found the second youngest in the kitchen getting started on breakfast. “Morning Taehyunnie.” Soobin said, somewhat grateful that his sleep riddled morning voice was able to mask his congestion a bit.

“Morning hyung. Do you think we should have eggs with breakfast today?” Soobin said yes before sitting down at the table and opening up his laptop to see if there had been any changes to their schedules. The other three members slowly came out of their rooms as the smell of cooking breakfast wafted through the dorm.

The five members were spread about the common space. Taehyun in the kitchen making breakfast, Soobin in the dining room, and the other three splayed across the living room furniture. Soobin was in the middle of writing an email to one of the producers, when he felt a tickle form in his sinuses. He tried rubbing his nose to make it go away, but it didn’t work. He quickly ducked his head to the side.

“Heh-stischh, hih-stsscxshh, hih-stsxshhh, heh-stieschhhh.” He shook his head a little before rubbing his nose then went back to his email.

“Bless you Tae. You better not have sneezed on the food.” Yeonjun called out.

“It wasn’t me.” Called Taehyun in response. The dorm somehow went even quieter.

“You sure it wasn’t you who sneezed Tae? You’re the only one in the group that doest scream when they sneeze.” Taehyun appeared in the living room a moment later.

“I didn’t sneeze hyung. I think I’d know it if I did.” “Then who sneezed?” Beomgyu asked. The four members stared at each other for a moment when they heard a noise from the dining room, causing all of their heads to turn and look.

“Heh-stschhh, hih-stschh, heh-stistschhh, hih-stschhh.” They stared in stunned silence for a moment before one of them moved. Kai grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table and approached the leader.

“Bless you hyung. Have some tissues.” Soobin turned to Kai and accepted the tissues, blowing his nose softly. Soobin seemed okay and Kai didn’t feel like asking about his weird sneezes, so the topic was ignored and the other three members helped get the table set up for breakfast.

The group was about halfway through breakfast, when Soobin pitched to the side with another set of soft sneezes. Silence fell upon the table to the extent that not even chopsticks were hitting the plates. Soobin looked up from his plate.

“What?” He asked as he grabbed his napkin to blow his nose.

“What’s with the sneezing, hyung?” Beomgyu asked 

“I’m sick. Woke up with a cold.” Soobin said like it was the most obvious thing ever, still not fully understanding why his members are so confused.

“No, hyung. You normally have the loudest sneezes of us, but you’re currently rivalring Taehyun in quiet sneezes.” Beomgyu clarified. Soobin stared at the group for a moment, before speaking. 

“That’s just how I sneeze when I’m sick. Did you guys not know that?” The four members shook their heads.

“Well now you know. I could’ve sworn I’ve had head colds since we became a group, but I guess not.” Soobin sniffled and went back to eating his breakfast and the group followed suit.

Once breakfast ended, Soobin informed the group that their vocal and dance practices had switched times, so they’d be doing dance first then vocal.  The members then went to get ready for the day. Soobin made sure to pack some extra packs of tissues, because he knew that he’d be needing them.

Meanwhile the other four members were conspiring against the leader. They were currently in Yeonjun’s room talking while Soobin was getting his stuff sorted. “Okay so I think we’re all in agreement when I say that hyung’s sick sneezes are the cutest thing ever.” Beomgyu said. The others all nodded

“It’s kind of nice to not be the only non screamer right now.” Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Kai all rolled their eyes at Taehyun’s comment. “Whatever hyung. All I know is I want to see more of hyung’s cute kitten sneezes, so I’m going to try to make him sneeze more.” Kai said. There was some non committal humming from the other members as they left Yeonjun’s room to get ready themselves.

The car ride to the company had been interesting to say the least. Kai, for some reason  had, some axe body spray and brought it into the van and sprayed next to Soobin before any of his hyungs were able to notice. Fortunately or unfortunately, Soobin was so stuffed up and congested that he couldn’t smell the axe. It did however make his nose run, causing him to become more sniffly. The sick leader went through one pack of tissues in transit to the company, and he wasn’t sure why.

By the time dance practice started, Soobin had yet to sneeze again. The group got through their first round of choreography, and still nothing. Beomgyu was the one who decided to try to rectify this. During the break, Soobin had left to use the restroom and Beomgyu took a jar out of his bag and quickly went over to Soobin’s bag and opening it up. He pulled out Soobin’s towel and sprinkled the contents of the jar over it before shaking it out and putting it back in the leader’s bag. Ater Kai had stunk up the van, Yeonjun decided to try to keep an eye on his dongsaengs, so he did see Beomgyu messing with Soobin’s bag, but didn’t do anything to interfere because he wanted to see what would happen.

The group practiced a couple more choreographies before taking another break. This time Soobin went for his bag and grabbed his towel to wipe his face of the sweat that had formed. The effect was almost instantaneous. One moment Soobin was wiping sweat from his forehead, then the next moment he was burying his face in the towel to sneeze.

“Hih-stcshhh, heh-ststschhh-stieschhh-stshhh.”  Soobin lifted his head up for a moment before once again bringing the towel to his face.  “Hih-stschhh, heh-stschhhh, hih-stschhh.”  The process repeated several times before they began to really worry.

“Beomgyu, what did you put on Binnie’s towel?” Yeonjun asked. Beomgyu looked guilty as he answered. “Just some sneezing powder that one of my cousins gave me. It didn’t really work on us, so I didn’t think it would do a whole lot to hyung.”

Yeonjun sighed as he grabbed a clean towel from a nearby cabinet before running over to Soobin and replacing the snotty towel the leader was holding with the clean one. He shoved the soiled towel into his own bag then led Soobin to the other side of the practice room where their dongsaengs were sitting.

It took a few minutes for Soobin's sneezing to die down, and the sick leader just slumped against the ground when it ended. "I'm tired" Soobin said after a moment.

"I bet, hyung. That was quite the display." Taehyun said. "I move that we ended practice early because it looks like Soobin hyung is about to fall asleep." The second youngest added when Soobin yawned.

"I second that"

"I'm not falling asleep" Kai and Soobin said in unison, although Soobin spoke through another yawn with his eyes shut.

"Yeah, no. We're going home, Soobin. You look exhausted and probably are after all that sneezing." Yeonjun paused as he placed his hand on the younger's forehead. "Plus, I think you might have a fever now. So it's time to get some rest." Soobin didn't have any energy to argue the matter, so he let his members pack up his things and help him get back to the dorm.

By the time their van pulled up to their dorm, Soobin was essentially asleep. He was just awake enough to sleepily walk himself to the couch, where he immediately crashed. The others decided to get their sick supplies together while the leader slept.

Soobin began to stir about an hour later. He really wanted to keep sleeping, but an annoying tickle in his sinuses had been what woke him up. “Heh-stschhh, hih-stschhh, heh-stschhh-stschhhh.” “Bless you, hyung.” Soobin opened his eyes and found Taehyun offering him some tissues. The sick leader sat up and accepted the tissues.

When he finished blowing his nose, Soobin noticed the members sitting around the living room. “How long was I asleep?” He asked as he tended to his nose. “You were only out for about an hour and Yeonjun hyung already spoke to manager-nim about giving you a couple days off.” Kai said as he moved a cup of tea over to Soobin. As he took a sip of the tea, Soobin noticed the guilty look on Beomgyu’s face.

“Beomie, what’s with the face?” Beomgyu solemnly stood up and placed a closed jar on the coffee table in front of Soobin. “I’m sorry hyung. It’s my fault you had the massive sneezing fit during practice. I put this powder all over your towel, but I didn’t think it would affect you so much. I told Yeonjun hyung that as an apology I’m going to do all the laundry for the next month.” Soobin nodded in understanding before what Kai had said had fully registered.

“I’m not that sick. I can go to practice.” Yeonjun shook his head at this. “You technically don’t have a fever, but after how tired you got from one sneezing fit we figured it would be better for you to rest. Plus the dance instructor gave clear instructions that they don’t want to see you until you’re certain you’re not going to fall asleep standing up.”

“In that case I guess I’ll get work on getting through that new Kirby game.” An indignant huff could be heard from one of the members, but Soobin didn’t care.

Soobin spent the next couple of days playing various video games. While the sick leader was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, the other members were still feeling apologetic about earlier, so Soobin was waited on hand and foot until he wasn’t feeling so tired and sneezy.

[flooffybits]

At Your Corner

Idol: Kim Minji (Dreamcatcher)

Anon: my heart just broke bc i saw a pic of minji smiling but trying to hide her pain when their deja vu win got snatched by the sh*w so may i request a scenario with jiu being sad abt that but since shes in public, she needs to smile for the fans. 8th member reader who doesnt rlly show her emotions notices and just lets her kid side out like suddenly jumping in front of jiu and going "hey im a race car get on!" to make her laugh then fans coo and stuff? sry if this is a mess u can change anything tnx

A/n: this came very recently and i don’t usually work on newer requests but this fit my mood way too much that i couldn’t help BUT write it

☕buy me a coffee☕

Standing at the corner of the room, you survey the scene and watch as your members all look exhausted after everything you’ve been through.

It’s quieter than usual, and while you usually preferred it, you hated this silence.

Once again, you were close to finally obtaining a win for your group, and yet you were just a few points too short when The Show finally released the results. You could feel as your members’ shoulders visibly fell when you were all finally off the stage and from the public eye. You had all worked so hard and believed that this comeback would finally be the one to get you a win.

The first weeks of promotions had made you start to lose hope when you had yet to obtain what your group desired, but your leader remained optimistic through it all, telling you that it wasn’t over and that you still had more chances. Yet in the end, her optimism was snuffed out as she sat by the corner, head in her hands as she struggled to pull herself together for when you all had to leave the venue and face your fans.

To make matters worse, Handong was leaving for China in a few days.

With a shaky breath, you turned away and shrugged off your stage outfit, replacing it with the shirt you previously wore, tossing on your hoodie and cap when you were done before heading out of the room, one of your managers quickly following after you as Bora’s frown deepened when she caught a glimpse of your expression.

“Come on, girls. We have to get going soon.” Minji called after she cleaned her face and dusted herself off. She watched as Yoohyeon hurried and quickly left, silently asking your remaining managers where you had gone off to before she went to find you.

With a heavy heart, the girls exited the waiting room and headed for the building exit where you and Yoohyeon were already waiting, the younger girl holding your hand while she kept her head on your shoulder, nuzzling against you for comfort whilst you held her closer to yourself with your own head down.

Minji felt a tug in her heart to see you, but when she tried to reach you, Siyeon tugged at her arm and then shook her head, knowing that there would be no getting to you at this point.

While you rarely expressed yourself, it was easy to tell when you wanted to shut everything and everyone out. You would let the girls come near you, but you wouldn’t say a single thing or react to anything they’ll say except for a nod or a shake of the head in case they ask you something.

“Unnie told me she was with Everglow before Yoohyeon unnie found her.” Gahyeon muttered softly from beside the vocalist. “She said she was trying to make them feel better because of the votes.”

It was a little after you all exited the stage when people began making comments online about miscalculations. As much as it was a possibility, you and your members decided not to look into it just so it wouldn’t further worsen your mood. You were already upset with having lost, it made you feel even worse to know that your dongsaengs were most likely receiving backlash with everything that was happening.

“It’s going to be okay.” Bora murmured, squeezing her friend’s hand as they approached you and the quiet girl. Handong offered you a small smile, but you merely nodded at her before looking to the door, hearing the shouts of fans that were waiting for you.

You lower your cap over your eyes just to avoid making further eye contact with anyone before finally leaving the venue, eyes squinting at the flashing of the cameras. Yoohyeon had let go of you to join Bora and Yubin’s side. Siyeon and Gahyeon stood closely side by side and Minji was clinging to Handong in order to comfort both of them.

And it just hurt so much more to see them forcing smiles on their faces when you knew just how terrible they all felt. You also knew that your own fans felt just as bad, seeing the tears on some of them when the winners were announced.

Right now, you felt stuck because it was usually Gahyeon and Minji who kept bright smiles on their faces. Your members were always eager to interact with fans, just like you, but this whole predicament merely took its toll on all of you.

But you refused to let this night end with them in tears.

Smiling, you waved to your fans and tried to give off the energy your members were lacking despite how it would usually be the other way around. Looking to your managers for permission, they were a little less strict this time around when they knew you just needed some space and allowed you to approach some fans.

Your members were somewhat surprised as you stepped away from them to greet everyone, thanking each of them for coming and supporting you all. Minji could feel her eyes watering at the sight of you trying your absolute best in covering for all of them, even trying to distract fans from noticing their weary state.

“Please be safe when you get home! The others are a little tired so please understand.” You tell them with a meaningful look and you were just grateful to know you had such understanding and thoughtful fans.

Even with the blinding flashes of the camera, you did your best speaking with them until your eyes landed on a few teary eyed Somnias. You felt your throat close up, but you do your best to swallow your emotions before approaching them. “Hey, why are you crying?” You asked and they turn to you with sadness swimming in their glossy eyes.

“We wanted to finally give you all a win, but we couldn’t do it.” One of them answers, your expression softening before you shook your head and opened your arms for them. Giving them both a warm hug, you patted their backs before giving them a small squeeze. “You guys did more than enough. You got us nominated, and that’s a really big thing, so thank you.” You assure them with your best smile,

“We’ll keep working harder, so please don’t be sad.”

Seeing your interaction with the fans pushed tears to Siyeon’s eyes and she had to avert her gaze while Bora wiped at the corner of her own eyes at your selflessness.

It didn’t take long before you came bounding over to your members and you sported a grin as you patted all of them, be it on the arm of back. “Come on, come on! I’m hungry, aren’t you?” You question playfully, earning a giggle from Yubin while Handong reached to pinch your cheeks.

When you turn to your leader, you smile before turning around so your back is facing her then gesture for her to hope onto your back. “Unnie, everyone is slow! Come on, you can get the food faster if you come with me.”

Minji couldn’t help but laugh at your display, her heart warming at your rare carefree personality and knowing that you were doing this for them.

So, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around your shoulder as you crouched down before allowing you to lift her on her back, laughter bubbling from her lips as you carried her away from the rest of your members while they watched on with smiles on their faces, happy to see your leader a little better compared to earlier.

“Yah! Unnie, be careful!” Gahyeon called out when Minji squealed after you nearly tripped, but you were able to tighten your hold on her legs, securing her on your back before you decided to merely walk instead of run to the van, the older woman’s face tucked comfortably against your neck that you could feel her smiling against your skin.

You didn’t have to go out of your way to check up on her and make her feel better, but she appreciated how you still did so without anyone having to ask you to do it. As quiet as you were, she loved the way you were ready to come to their aid.

“Thank you.” You hear her whisper and you hum while shrugging your shoulders lightly. “It’s nothing, unnie.” Though despite your words, she knows that you were relieved to have her, and the others, smiling as well.

Later that night, there are articles about you and your actions for that day. Pictures of you with fans and Minji, especially, circulate everywhere, but the girls decide that staying off social media would be healthy for them as they happily ate the food that you had asked your managers to bring to the dorm.

“Do you think we should wake her up?” Yubin asked when she glanced to your shared room, but Handong shook her head and smiled after drinking some water. “Jiu unnie did say she’ll take care of Y/n, so we can wait until they’re back.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen Y/n unnie have that much energy.” Yoohyeon commented after chewing her food, Gahyeon nodding in agreement with a tiny smile on her face. “Unnie is honestly so cute. I wanted to cry when she was hugging and comforting Somnias.” The maknae pouted while Bora giggled. “That kid is really unpredicatable sometimes.”

Siyeon scoffed at her claim, chopsticks pointed in the dancer’s direction. “Speak for yourself.” That earned a smack on the arm as Handong burst into laughter, everyone else following after as they exchanged more stories, forgetting about the award show and their previous concnerns.

Meanwhile, Minji looked down at you with a fond smile as you laid on her chest, arms wrapped around her waist as she kept her own around your slightly smaller frame.

As much as she cried earlier, you were able to make her feel better. Even as you slept soundly against her, she would thank you endlessly for being in her life and picking her up whenever she was down.

Somewhere along the way, she realized that some trophy meant nothing compared to the love and support she’s received from the people who surrounded her. While it was nice to have that recognition for the group, she would pick a group that was stable and gave as much as they received any day.

As long as you were among those people, her heart was safe and sound.

[one-boring-person]

i love your works sm!! do you still take terminator requests? if so, i had in mind one where the reader had like, a bad day and the T-800 comforts them c:

Thank you! I'm really glad you like my stuff!And I do take Terminator requests; you're my first!😅 I hope you like this!

No Problemo.

T-800 x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The door slams loudly behind me as I enter the house, my bag colliding violently with the wall as I throw it there, a scowl etched into my features. My coat soon joins the bag, left behind as I stalk further into the house, heading towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing something to eat or drink before going upstairs to wallow in my room, shoulders aching from my tense posture, clenched jaw equally as painful from the hours of biting back sharp replies. There are low noises coming from the lounge, but I ignore them, not quite in the mood to interact with the other members of the household. 

Entering the kitchen, I flick on the light and go over to the fridge, yanking it open to check its contents. A groan of frustration leaves me as I realise we're low on food (again), the cool shelves deserted after a week of feeding the four of us living here. Mentally, I make a note in my head to go to the store tomorrow and pick up some more stuff, knowing full well neither Sarah nor John will go, and Bob is unlikely to take the initiative by himself. Sighing, I close the fridge again and go to the cupboard, opening it to find the shelves yet again void of any edible substance. In their place, I find a few loose scraps of metal and some empty containers, some old spices pushed to the back of the space, the sight of which makes me roll my eyes.

"You have returned." 

The monotone voice behind me makes me jump, the owner of said baritone having managed to sneak up on me despite his generally massive size. Spinning on my heel, I come to face Uncle Bob, the T-800 regarding me quietly, expression mostly blank. Swallowing to calm myself again, I reach for a cup and go to the tap, filling it with cool water as I go to reply.

"Yeah. Finally." I respond dryly, downing the glass of water with a sharp jerk of my head.

The cyborg's brow creases a little, the terminator still learning to express human emotion as others do, his head cocking to the side, evidently scanning me.

"Your stress levels are very high and your muscles are unnaturally tensed. What is wrong?" Bob questions, coming further into the room, watching as I refill the glass.

Pulling a face at his automated observance, I shoot him a look from my position by the sink.

"Bad day." I eventually answer, pushing off the counter and going to move past him, heading up to my room.

I frown as I hear him follow after me, his heavy boots thudding on the stairs behind me. Paying him no mind, I simply walk to my room, pushing open the door and going in, starting to pull at the smarter clothes I'm forced to wear for my job. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt, frustration clouding my mind as I struggle to undo them. From the corner of my eye, I can see Bob loitering in the doorway, watching me carefully, before he suddenly pushes into the room, coming over to me. Confused, I stare at him, backing up a little until his eyes meet mine, somehow managing to reassure me with his carefully crafted mimicry of human reassurance.

Hesitantly, I let him come closer, tensing when he instantly goes to start unbuttoning my shirt, his passive gaze staying focused on the task, even as he starts to speak, his large frame hunched over me.

"What has solicited your negative assessment of the day?" The cyborg queries, easily loosening each button in turn.

Clenching my jaw again, I watch him work, feeling somewhat soothed by his calm actions, enjoying his closeness and unwavering stociness. 

"It's just been a long, difficult day. Nothing went right, my boss is making things harder for me, and none of the things I needed to get done actually got done." I sigh, trying to relax, "I have a ridiculous amount of work due tomorrow, and I've had no way of doing it today. I didn't eat lunch because I had no time, so now I'm hungry, and tired, and just want to go to bed."

Having told him these things, I start to feel a little better, but not by much, having been reminded of the exact reasons why I'm like this in the first place.

"I see." The T-800 recites one of his newly-learned phrases, glancing up at me, "It is recommended that you obtain food and take rest for optimum recovery."

His diagnostic advice comes quickly, a hard contrast to the more human way of speaking we've been trying to teach him, the sound of which almost brings a small smile to my face.

"I plan to do that." I mutter, batting his hands away as he finally finishes his task, turning away from him as I strip myself of my shirt and trousers, pulling on some more comfortable clothes.

"Good." He nods in approval, moving over to me again as I go to sit on my bed.

Quietly, he eyes me, seemingly running through some line of data on his HUD, before he leans down and easily scoops me into his arms. Squeaking in surprise, I wrap my arms around his neck, only to let go when he places me down against my pillows, taking care to make sure I'm comfortable, removing everything that may be considered uncomfortable from the bed.

"What are you doing?" I ask him, curiously, watching as he neatly folds a shirt and places it on my desk.

"Helping you recover." He states simply, glancing at me, "Stay where you are."

Frowning at his command, I stare after him as he leaves the room, unsure of what he is doing but not adverse to it. It feels nice to be looked after, for a change, instead of looking after others, even if it is by the surly cyborg sent to protect my best friend. He's always been stumped as to how John and I came to be friends, given the large age gap between us, somehow not quite understanding the concept that I had worked at the arcade the teen used to frequent and had come to know he and his friend very well. Eventually, I got roped into a situation that changed my life, and now here I am, living with the Connors, doing a terrible job to keep myself busy, trying to forget that the life I now lead is far from normal.

After a moment, the T-800 walks in again, a plate in one hand a mug in the other. As he comes closer, I realise there are a couple of slices of pizza on the plate, which confuses me.

"Where'd you get the pizza from? The fridge is empty." I ask him, sitting up to take the plate and mug from him as he offers them to me.

"Sarah and John ordered takeout. There was some spare." He fills me in, handing me the items.

Nodding, I place the plate in my lap, cupping the mug between my palms as I sniff it, glad to recognise a tea of some sorts, unaware that we had any. In doing so, I don't quite register that the T-800 has slipped onto the bed with me until his hands are suddenly on my waist, lifting me into his lap. Eyes widening in shock, I tense up, unused to the feeling of his huge, muscular body against mine, though he says nothing, only starting to rub my arms and legs gently.

"What're you doing?" I ask him again, still unsure, though I can slowly feel myself give in to his touch, the gentle sensations highly comforting to me.

"My files state that physical contact between two people can induce relaxation and a lessening of stress." Bob replies, pulling me back to lean against his chest, sitting back against the headboard as he does so.

"Right. Well, thank you." I say to him, hesitantly starting to relax into him, enjoying the feeling of his hands tracing my arms, the scent of motorcycle fuel, metal and the cheap cologne John bought him flooding my nostrils as I start to eat.

"No problemo." He replies, holding my mug still as I continue to eat.

Instantly, I feel my tensions starting to drain away, my hunger soon satiated, my exhaustion taking over as I settle back into Bob's chest, my eyelids starting to droop closed.

"It is recommended now that you sleep to regain your energy." The T-800 states, much quieter than usual, his arms wrapping around me properly after removing the plate and mug from the bed, keeping me against him as he gently manoeuvres himself to lie down with me on his chest.

Turning in his arms, I look up at him, smiling contentedly as I rest my head on his collarbone, nodding at the cyborg.

"Yeah, I will. Thank you." I murmur, closing my eyes properly, totally relaxed in his hold.

He doesn't reply, only tightening his grip on me, a kiss suddenly pressed to my forehead, leaving me smiling like an idiot in my sleep.

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Opposites Attract

Request: hey may I request a one shot for your Peter Pan story if yes can you, use my real name (Zai) instead of Y/N if you please and can you have me pans total opposite like sweet, shy everything he would hate but in the end he falls for her and becomes really protective

Pairing: Pan x Zai

Warning: None

Part 2 >

It was so surreal, everything around me seemed to move in slow motion as if I were a character stuck inside of a movie, high pitched ringing pierced through my ears and stung my brain like a thousand tiny knives pricking it. An uncontrollable tremble grabbed a hold of my body refusing to let go, toying with my muscles as though I were nothing but a puppet on a string dancing for the demon that now had possession of my tiny frame.

The air was cold, so very cold, nipping and scratching at my fare skin as I silently sat on the leaf-covered floor. So many questions ran through my mind, too many to count, too many to keep ahold of. What was this dark place I had found myself in?

Dirt and pinecones filled my nostrils as I took heavy, deep breaths in and out, in and out, in and out.

A pair of eye's shot daggers at the back of my head, sending shivers to travel up and down my spine. The knotting in my stomach became apparent, growing tighter and higher by the second. I tried my hardest to fight off the fear which coursed through my veins and stole my heart, but I couldn't. There was no power in the world, no bribe was big enough, and no prize was worthy enough to get me to turn around and meet the eyes staring at me.

As time passed I felt more and more eyes creep up behind me, taking their place and just silently watching. That's when I heard them, footsteps, shuffling, whispers in the night running through to cold air from person to person, or perhaps from monster to monster.

"What have we got here boys?" A jovial voice sounded, too old to be a child's but it held the power and wisdom of a thousand lifetimes.

"We-we think it's a girl, Pan." Another said.

Pan, so that was the creature's name. In any normal circumstance, someone might jump for joy at the sign of another person, but this was no normal circumstance and the confirmation of other people only made my skin crawl. Every red flag was waving and alarm bell ringing, I was not safe, not one bit.

"She might be dead, or unconscious," Someone sounded, "she hasn't moved in a while."

Whoever this Pan was leant down close to me, so close I could feel his breath travel down the nape of my neck. He placed two gentle fingers on my pulse, paying for a second.

"She's not dead," He confirmed, "James and Dan set up a tent for her, Felix see if she has any wounds and take care f them if she does."

It was Clear Pan had authority over everyone else there as if he were some kind of mayor or leader, the boys named did nothing to displease him as their footsteps grew quieter and quieter.

"Where are you going, Pan?" A rather deep, husky voice spoke, curiosity dripping off every word yet he was confident in his ways. Maybe he was somewhere higher up on the food chain in this strange land that he had to power to question and possibly even disobey.

"To ask the shadows why they bought a bloody girl to the island." His tone had changed, sounding more aggravated than intrigued.

There were no other words exchanged between the two and I could feel myself being lifted off the cold ground, I felt weightless in the arms of this stranger that I was too afraid to look at.

Perhaps I would become a burden to the boy, but I had no energy left to think about that, I had no energy left to think about anything. I wanted nothing more than to drift off into a peaceful sleep but my body would not allow it for the danger had not yet passed, it kept trying to fight and fight but finally lost the battle and sleep had won out.

I woke up, my head pounding like there was no tomorrow. I found myself in a white tent, laying upon a mattress, only a thin blanket keeping the cold from consuming me. Swinging my legs over the side of the make-shift bed I walked towards the fabric flaps, sunlight poured into the room as I pulled them back, almost blinding me.

A tall figure hovered over me, blocking out the sun. For a split second, he looked like a dark, black giant but once my eyes adjusted I took a closer look at his face. Is pale blue eyes stared at mine for what seemed like a few minutes, becoming familiar with my brown ones. I noted down the scar that ran down his cheek, how did he get it?

"Pan," He called, "she's awake."

My eyes averted to the boy, who looked no older than seventeen, quickly stalking towards us. Panic flashed through my body enduring my paralyzed, there was nothing I could do but watch as they got closer and closer despite the urge of wanting to run and flee.

His eyes stood out to me the most, the vibrant green colour seemed to radiate off him, capturing and gaze and holding it there. This boy had power, that much was obvious, what scared me was how he used it. There's no doubt in my mind that he could mortally wound or even kill me if I looked at him the wrong way, the safest route is to be obedient otherwise I could end up dead.

"Follow me." He said sternly, I didn't dare speak, I didn't dare to even breathe I just nodded my head in his direction before silently following after him like a little lost puppy.

One step after another I felt more and more eyes scanning over my body, however, I would never meet anyone's gaze. I wouldn't dare give any of these people the satisfaction, after all, they still need to tell me how I got here in the first place. I felt like an animal caged up in the zoo, just a pretty and unusual thing for them to stare and gawk at, all the meanwhile missing my home.

A pain shot through my chest, a deep aching at the thought of my family and friends, at the thought of everything I had left behind.

"Sit." The leader spoke, snapping me from my thoughts.

I complied without any issues, placing myself onto the wooden stump poking its head out of the ground to say hello to the golden, glowing sun beaming down on everything below it. I hadn't noticed just how beautiful this place was in the day time, the lush green trees, the birds tweeting, the odd deer walking by before scattering and running off from the wild people whom they shared the land with.

I felt his strange green eyes watching me, finally, I had worked up enough courage to look into them. They were filled with wonder and amazement, much like a child seeing snow for the first time.

"You can start by telling me your name," The boy's thick British accent becoming prominent.

"Zai," I whispered, nearly audible but he heard it and so did the forest.

"Zai," He repeated as if he were testing out how my name sounded on his tongue, "Cute. Now, what are you doing on my island?"

Oh, so it was his island.

"I don't know," I said, my tone sickly sweet but the boy in front of me could tell I was being genuine.

"You're a strange one aren't you?" He claimed, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear an act that made my cheeks turn a deep shade of red as I desperately tried to hide my face from his view.

I should be afraid, I should be terrified, running for the hills and never looking back. There was danger behind those vibrant green orbs, so much danged but for some reason that only drew me in more. The very thing that should make me leave is the same exact thing compelling me to stay, how can that be?

I had never been one for diving into the deep end or taking risks, I liked to be in control of my fate and how everything played out, I know this boy could never give me security so why am I being pulled closer and closer t him?

He's attractive yes, as if he were chiseled by the God's themselves, but it's more than that, it's deeper than that. The risk, the excitement of it all is what drew me in and managed to hold me there. Maybe staying here wasn't as big of a heartache as I previously thought.

"Well I guess that's irrelevant, I'll be sending you home now." He announced.

"What makes you think I want to go home?" I asked, standing up defensively.

He raised a single eyebrow at me, the expression on his face caused me to shiver, "So you want to stay little one?"

I could feel a smile creeping its way onto my face at his words, "Perhaps to do, I could be of use to you,"

I desperately tried to come up with a list of jobs I could do just so he could let me stay, although I was still scared I had this feeling deep inside on me. Way down in my bones as if I were meant to be here as if my soul belonged here.

"I can cook." I blurted out.

Only to be met with a smirk, "My boys can cook too."

"I can clean," I said.

"So can my boys." The leader retaliated.

"Can they?" I asked, raising my eyebrow to him, mimicking his previous actions, he gave a low husky chuckle to my somewhat sassy comment.

"Oh, I'm sorry princess, is it not up to your standard?" The boy smirked in return, toying with me a little. He could sense when I was on edge, I knew he could, maybe a skill he had picked up in the years that he had been alive.

"Please, I'll do anything, anything you ask of me!" I pleaded, hoping and praying that he would allow me to reside here with him.

"It doesn't matter what you want." His demeanor suddenly turning nasty at the flip of a switch, the green eyed boy stalked closer and closer to me until my back had been pressed against a tree, leaning down he whispered, "I don't have girls on my island, you're weak I have no need for your kind."

I felt my blood being to boil, this misogynistic-

I held myself back from doing something that I regret, out of the fear that I could possibly end up dead at any second.

"Maybe they are where you're from," I said in a low yet innocent tone, my words sounding like a smooth lullaby slipping into his mind, "But I am different."

"Fine, I'll be interested to see how long you last around here." He stated, "I'll get Felix to show you around."

He took a few steps back, giving me the space that I craved. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in until now. Pan's comment not only sprinkled fear and dread into me once more but also seemed to excite me as if I had something to prove to these people. One thing was apparent, they were not people I wanted to play with or tourment. I was better off just seeing how this plays out and trying not to end up dead in the process.

Within the day I had circled around the island twice seeing all the beautiful sights and scenery as Felix, who is the second in command around here, told me what was what. His explanations were only met with a nod as I was far too shy and nervous to open my mouth around him or any of the boys for that matter. Luckily for me, Felix wasn't much of a talker either, we spent most of our little adventure in awkward silence.

The more I explored the more I wanted, no longed to stay here. The crystal blue seas, the majestic waterfalls, the tall towering trees, and the white sandy beaches. This place seemed like paradise, shame the people who inhabited it didn't radiate the same energy.

The once pale blue sky turn to a dark navy as tiny, white sparkling dots hang high in the sky, a roaring fire was situated in the middle of the camp the boys all sat around eating, laughing, and having a good time. They all seemed so happy, yet the damage behind their eyes was apparent, they all had the same look behind them.

I felt a presence sit down beside me, "Zai," they spoke, to which I said nothing. I didn't turn my head to look at the person whose voice I had heard not hours before.

Before I knew what was happening a hand was placed under my chin, forcing me to look in their direction, "It's not a wise idea to ignore me, little one."

"Sorry," I whispered, I knew he heard my faint words but I wasn't entirely sure they made that much of a difference.

"Funny, just hours ago we were having a perfectly fluent conversation and now you seem so shaken up you're hardly getting your words out, tell me, why is that?" He knew what he was doing, it was apparent, he knew he had the upper hand, he knew I was still scared.

I shrugged at their so-called king, not giving him the satisfaction he craved, he wanted me to squirm, but I wouldn't allow that to happen.

As the days went by my shyness didn't disappear or get easier, in fact, it seemed to get worse. I was on edge, especially around Pan, it wasn't hard to tell that the boy was ruthless.

It was hot, the sun beaming down on the island. We all slowly walk deeper and deeper into the forest the boys not only thankful for the shade but excited for the activities ahead. Pan had promised us a game of target practice, something that I had learned I was terrible at.

Silently, I watched from afar as the boys took turns shooting apples off one another head. Of course, there were many injuries but they loved the thrill of it. I got many stares, none of which I paid any attention to, but what riled me up the most were to comments.

"What's she even doing here?"

"Why would Pan allow a girl into the camp?"

"Look at her she wouldn't even hurt a fly."

"She doesn't have what it takes to be one of us, she's too sweet."

"I wish she would just go back to where she came from."

Biting my tongue, I tried not to let their words get to me. Sometimes I fantasize about those boys tied to a tree, no means of escape or survival, I would pull the arrow back tight, stretching the string of the bow before letting go. The arrow would soar through the air before landing deep into their skulls with a satisfying think, bullseye.

I could feel the wicked smile on my face grow as my heart became that little bit darker. What was wrong with me? I had never wished ill will upon anyone before, so why was I starting to know. Maybe it was the island, supplying me with anger as if it were some kind of git, some means for survival if in a wretched yet beautiful place.

Suddenly, everything stopped and silence grabbed hold of everyone around. My interest was peaked, I rose from my makeshift seat to see what was going on. There the leader of the lost boys had one of his very own pinned to a tree by an invisible force, choking and spluttering as his legs kicked and kicked.

I wasn't sure what had brought this on, but my gaze was held hostage by the scene unfolding before me, the boy begged and begged apologizing relentlessly, but none of that mattered to Pan. We all stood there and watched, some boys with tears in their eyes as their friend asked for mercy and was not given it, I almost felt bad for the boy until I had realized who it was.

Adam, the little ring leader of the group of boys who liked to push my buttons.

We all looked on as the light slowly left his eyes, his cold body slumped to the floor, no one dared to move.

"Fun's over boys," His powerful voice boomed, echoing all over the forest, "Get back to work."

One by one the boys went back to camp, they were shaken up, but not as bad as I was. I still felt a sense of remorse for the poor boy, but the more I reminded myself of all the things he said the sad about it I felt. I still wasn't able to take my eyes off his lifeless body until there was no one else around apart from Pan.

I looked up at him, but no words left my mouth, they were all choked up in my throat. The smirk on his face let me know he was proud of what he had accomplished a minute ago, what kind of a monster was he?

He left, leaving a wink as his parting gift to me.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, I didn't like what he had done and worst of all I didn't like how he had just made me feel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you guys like part 1!!

[kojinnie]

The Things You Do | Jean Kirstein

Based on the request for  my 24/7 Writing Event by an anon. Thank you for the sweet words and the request, love! Hereby my offering to thee.

jean kirschtein x reader; fluff!; 1.4k words

song to listen to: don’t dream it’s over by crowded house

18.00: Date with them would include...

A/N: I couldn’t help it. I took creative liberty and made it into ‘how Jean would be like crushing on you until taking you out on your first date together’ fluff. So that’s that.

Jean is such a corny guy that sometimes he walks in the fine line between being embarrassing and endearing. Despite his striking built and that alluring eyes of him, he’s quite awkward, especially when it comes to his significant other. He’s quite traditional in a sense that he treats the prospect of dating like a teenage girl fiddling through Seventeen Magazine, going through the ‘steps’ and ‘crush check-list’ before he finally musters the courage to taking you out on dinner. He’d be really smitten with you though, things starting off innocently with you catching him staring at you in the cafeteria or at the courtyard. Then it would grow to be more obvious with the awkward way Connie and Sasha greet and smile at you – almost comically, as if they are only a laughter away from spilling the whole beans about how much Jean is charmed by you. 

Jean would frequently space out thinking of the way you walk or the way you utter your opinion – in a strange, unique way that he’d find them charming. He’d look at certain things and as the sight of them evoke the memories of you, he’d mumble under his breathe, “That look like something that (Y/N) would wear,” or, “Oh that song? I think I’ve seen that in (Y/N) Insta Story before.” The things you do, even to the ficklest little thing, is scribbled in Jean’s mind even without him realizing.

After a while, when he finally gains the courage and is lucky enough to have a chance to just talk with you alone, you’d be surprised with how attentive he is. The two of you would talk about random things and he’d refer to one of the things you’ve said, the ones you have probably forgotten, “It reminds me of the things you said in class – I think you’ve got a point,” Jean would say, and after he gains recognition of how surprised you’d be, he’d pretend to shrug it off by chuckling awkwardly.

To finally taking you out on a date would really be a big deal for him, he’d ask around about the things you’d like – your favorite food, your favorite restaurant. Asking your friends, stalking your 3 AM ramble on Twitter. But at the same time, Jean is also a man driven by impulse, so he’d ask you out first without deciding which place to go. There would probably a moment of suspense insecurity, after he asks you out on a date, and then you say yes and ask where, Jean would take his time to reply because he hasn’t figured it out yet. But his late response would come off as if he changes his mind or has gone disinterested, when in actuality, he’s frantically looking for a place to go. Tracing your social media to see what kind of restaurant you’d be most comfortable eating out in, and whether you have allergies or not.  He’d finally settle with a fancy restaurant (because he’s quiet vain) that he has pondered on for weeks (because he’s not sure whether you’re as vain as him or not). Truthfully, it would be a burden, because you gotta find yourself a new nice outfit, and you’d probably get thrown off a little with how seemingly posh Jean is with his choice of restaurant. So, you would be going on the date not having the slightest idea of who Jean truly is. Is he the attentive, rather goofy and approachable guy you have already known for some times, or is he secretly a posh dude that would be out of your league? Questions ensue.

When the time comes for the date, he’d turn up with a really nice suit that he pairs with a Converse because Connie said that it would make him more ‘relatable’ despite taking you out to a fancy a restaurant that costs him two months of paycheck. It would kick-off very awkwardly, with him trying to disguise the half-hearted mention that you can “Order anything you like,” which was obvious in his tone. In sympathy, you’d settle with the cheapest option, to which Jean, without an ounce of self-consciousness, responded with a relief sigh, which would make you cackle because you have been waiting such genuine display of emotion from him. He’d be embarrassed getting caught off-guard, but you’d assure him that it’s okay, or even better, the two of you can split the bill, which he would adamantly refuse, and eventually conceding to the option of ordering the cheapest ones off the menu.

Once Jean wears off his pretense, the conversation between the two of you would flow more naturally. He’d still amaze you with how attentive he has been and how, when you mindlessly mention about the things that make you insecure, he’d be quick to retort with, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice that – hell, I can’t see that because you—” he’d stutter, blown out of his mind to know that a person he holds in such a flattering view through his eyes can suffer from such insecurity, “—your presence just radiates all kind of energy I wish I had. The way you carry yourself. The way you make your point across. You’re simply—" Jean tried to gulp down his words, wary that it would make an embarrassment out of himself, but with a kick of final encouragement he’d finally blurt out the words anyway, “—marvelous to me.”

“And I—” only then Jean dared to look into your eyes, with a solemn look he’d finally confess, “—really like you.”

There would be a moment of silence as you try to digest the words he says with the glass of wine. The anxious face of Jean was palpable to tell you that he fears the feelings might not be mutual, “But it’s okay if you don’t—” he sighed, almost sounding as if he’s feeling sorry for himself, “—feel the same way.”

The rest would be totally up to you. You can say that you’re not ready for anything or you can start pointing out how equally marvelous Jean is as a person and that you’d like to see how the thing will play out between the two of you. If you say the latter, Jean would immediately let a low chuckle that quickly erupts into an all-out laughter, and to be followed by a sigh as he stares at the food, that was neither scrumptious nor fills his hunger up, “Do you want to get the hell out of here and find ourselves real foods?”

He’d then pay, cringe at the amount he has splurged. The look on his face was amusing to you, you’d tease him and the laughter would follow throughout your ride in his old car to the nearby late-night diner. You’d laugh at the sound he makes trying to jam to Bee Gees’ song with a forced high-pitched squeak. As you’re about to get out of his car when the two of you park in front of the diner, Jean would strain all his nerves to hold your hands and keep you in place, “Do you mind if we eat here?” At first you wouldn’t be sure on what is his intention, but Jean would explain that he’d like to feel more comfortable with you, without having to care whether other people might overhear or simply throw a look at the two of you.

After the munching ends, the night goes quieter, and the Bee Gees from his car audio has been replaced by Jean’s favorite slow-paced songs from the 80s, he would start to open up about himself, maybe talk about the thing in his childhood that makes him whoever he is now, and how the things you did or said has brought Jean’s mind to a pastime memory he is most fond of. You’d feel safe and warm, in the presence of a man who would do the most for you, find you interesting and amazing even when yourself fails to see it – finally, you’d find the heart in you to open up as well, letting him to see a part of you that is raw and unpolished, and yet still he’d think that you’re somewhat enthralling. He’s sure of his feelings for you. Are you?

The song played was starting to reach the bottom of Jean’s playlist as it starts to play the classic, when Jean finds the encouragement to run his fingers through your hair, reassuring a warmly presence that you were rather unfamiliar with, as he mouths the lyrics of the song that was playing to build a shield of courage in you, ‘There’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost, but you’ll never see the end of the road while you’re travelling with me.’ And with that, Jean shatters the rest of your self-restraint as you smile, and he says, “May I kiss you?” To which you nod yes.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

You Are Of Their Ilk - Sequel to 'You Need Tending'

[1] [2]

Part 3

[Masterpost]

--

Traveling with Wei Ying over land rather than on the river proves to be somewhat less terrifying. Once they’ve left the town behind and there’s nothing but empty road ahead of them he finds the energy once again to dart this way and that, chasing birds and turning over stones to see what may be hiding beneath them, but without the danger of losing him in the river, Lan Qiren is less inclined to admonish him for his behavior. Instead he simply watches closely whenever he wanders too far ahead for them to hear his excited babbling and he continues his sedate pace with his nephews obediently at his sides, confident that Wei Ying will always come running back to check in with him between adventures.

Though they are too polite to say anything (or write anything, in Wangji’s case) Lan Qiren knows that his nephews must be confused as to why he’s allowing such wild behavior for his new ward when he has always expected decorum and obedience of them. He takes the opportunity to explain one mid-morning when Wei Ying has run far ahead of them to overturn a rock almost too large for him to lift and poke at whatever grubs are beneath it with a stick. They are drawing nearer and nearer to Cloud Recesses and will arrive within a day or so if they’re able to maintain their pace, and so he feels that it’s time for them to understand what roles he’ll be expecting them to take on once they’re home.

“Wei Ying is a lively child by nature and he has lived without anyone to guide or teach him for a very long time, which has led to him being unaware of proper conduct. It is in the interest of his health to encourage him for now, when he is free to behave as he always has, to make sure he feels comfortable and safe with us so he will accept our help. When we reach Cloud Recesses I trust you two will help me teach him proper behavior so that he may fit in quickly.”

“Yes Uncle,” Xichen says dutifully, though it takes a bit longer before Wangji nods and faces forward again. They walk a few more moments in silence like that before Wangji suddenly lengthens his stride - almost running but not quite – to join Wei Ying where he’s squatting by the rock. He can just barely hear Wei Ying’s delighted cry of, “A-Zhan!! Lookit the bugs!” from where he and Xichen are still walking and, utterly without his conscious permission, the corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of a smile.

Traveling with Wei Ying is not always quite so…chaotic as that, however. Since the afternoon of their first day of walking and each subsequent afternoon since, Wei Ying grows so tired after their midday meal and the excitements of the morning that he would fall asleep on his feet if Lan Qiren didn’t carry him. After the initial fright of Wei Ying doing precisely that and needing to be caught before he’d fallen on his face in the dirt, Lan Qiren spends each afternoon with the boy perched on his back, his head resting on his shoulder and his little exhales puffing against the side of his neck. Lan Qiren is well aware of how heavy sleeping children should be, having carried his own sleeping nephews too many times to be counted over the years, and so he is continually alarmed by the fact that Wei Ying feels as if he weighs nothing at all on his back no matter how much eats - even when so deeply unconscious he should feel like a sack of bricks. It’s during these hours that Lan Qiren is viscerally reminded that for all his enthusiasm and energy when awake, Wei Ying is still very much in need of recovery from the hardships of his life up to this point.

Favoritism is frowned upon, but Lan Qiren doesn’t think anyone could see Wei Ying, could look at the light in his eyes and the laughter that comes so easily - and then hold him and realize he’s as fragile and light as a songbird - without wanting to protect him and give him the things his heart desires. So far those desires are all easily met anyway. He wants to spend time with Wangji and Xichen, he wants a hug from Lan Qiren in the evening before he sleeps, he wants food (though he still hasn’t learned he’s allowed to ask for it when he’s hungry), he wants to play. Any desires Lan Qiren may have to prevent him from receiving any of these things are promptly outweighed by the memories of each time Wei Ying has shown even a hint of the depth of his injuries, mental or physical.

As frail as the boy feels to him any time he stops moving long enough to be held, it’s a wonder to Lan Qiren when they finally make it to Cloud Recesses without any further incidents like the morning in town. For the children’s sake he has elected to bring them up the mountain by a quieter path than the road that passes through Caiyi Town. He has also elected to carry Wei Ying up the mountain, uncertain of the child’s footing or his ability to climb the mountain path under his own power (and wary of his tendency to run about. As illogical as it is he can all too easily picture the boy slipping on some wet leaves and falling right off the mountain and it makes him..anxious.)

Despite entering the mountain using a lesser-travelled path, there are still two disciples waiting for them at the boundary of the wards, and though Wei Ying has been nodding off on his shoulder he suddenly goes tense and hides his face properly in the curtain of Lan Qiren’s hair as soon as it’s clear the four of them aren’t alone anymore.

Lan Qiren steels himself for the way their lives are all about to change as the disciples salute him and he recognizes that he will no longer be able to allow Wei Ying to run as free as he always has.

Upon reaching the waiting disciples, the senior of the two informs him that the elders are waiting for his report from Yunmeng and he nods his weary acknowledgement. “I will return the children to their rooms and come make my report,” he says and does his best to ignore the dread curling through him.

Getting the children settled is easy enough. Xichen is, of course, well used to taking care of himself by now and Wangji is similarly accustomed to it when necessary. The only excuse he really has not to report immediately to the elders is Wei Ying, who is not as much of an excuse as he would like as he’s gone quite still and well-behaved all the sudden even though Lan Qiren can tell from the rhythm of his breathing against his neck as they walk through Cloud Recesses that he’s not asleep.

“It’s alright, A-Ying,” Xichen murmurs softly when they’re alone on the path to the family dormitories, having apparently sensed the same fear in him that Lan Qiren has. “A-Zhan and I are going to stay with you, you don’t have to see anyone else until you’re ready.”

Wei Ying nods a few times but says nothing, and the rest of the walk to Lan Qiren’s quarters is quiet. Wangji is still young enough to share the space with him but Xichen has been living with his peers in the student dorms for years already to better pursue his studies without distraction. He comes for tea once a week to report on his own progress and of course Lan Qiren monitors his studies personally so they see quite a lot of each other anyway, but when he passes through the space to deposit Wei Ying in the room he will be sharing with Wangji, Xichen looks a little startled to see his old bed and belongings precisely as he had left them the day he moved out.

Lan Qiren attempts to unsling Wei Ying from his back to set him down but the boy clings to him with surprising strength and attempts to nuzzle deeper into the back of his neck as if hiding beneath the fall of his hair will protect him from the rest of the world.

“A-Ying,” he says quietly, carefully, more wary than ever of speaking too sharply. If it comes out a bit too flat instead then he supposes that’s at least not as bad as it could be. “I must report our arrival to the elders and it is time for you to sleep for the afternoon as you do each day.” It isn’t the schedule of Cloud Recesses to allow children of his age to sleep in the afternoon and he will have to break him of the habit at some point, but any sort of structure had seemed beneficial during the uncertainty of travel and for now he’s wary of letting Wei Ying break out of it simply because he’s feeling nervous.

It takes a bit more coaxing from Xichen before Wei Ying allows Lan Qiren to carefully pry his fingers free, and as soon as Lan Qiren gets him down on his own two feet Wangji is right there to grab his newly-freed hands and tug him over to his own bed. Lan Qiren suppresses a sigh to see that he’s likely going to also have to break Wangji out of this new habit of sharing his sleeping space with Wei Ying – it had taken a long time to break him of the habit of crawling in bed with Xichen in the middle of the night when Xichen had still been living with them, and something tells him that Wangji is going to be even more determined to keep up the behavior out of concern for Wei Ying and his already obvious desire to take care of him.

A problem for the future. For now there’s nothing else keeping him from going to the elders and so once he reminds Xichen to watch the younger pair carefully and order food to be brought to them all when Wei Ying wakes, he leaves again. He takes a moment to straighten his robes from where Wei Ying’s grip has bunched them and to comb his fingers through his hair to ensure it’s lying perfectly flat and straight down his back, though no amount of fussing and attempting to achieve perfection will raise the elders’ opinions of him, as he’s already aware. It still wouldn’t do to appear too rumpled despite what he considers the very valid excuse of having been traveling with three children for the last few days and not even allowed a bath before being summoned.

No matter. He knows what has to be done and to give into the anger it could incite in him would only make the experience even more unpleasant than it promises to be. Best to simply get it over with and spend the rest of the day attempting to figure out how he’s going to balance his usual duties to the Sect and to Wangji’s education with the new duty of teaching Wei Ying how to be…well. Something besides a half-feral street child.

The elders are, of course, already assembled when he arrives and he feels the weight of their cold, perpetual disapproval as keenly as ever as he kneels in front of them to offer them a greeting and begin his reports.

“The guards at the boundary reported an unexpected individual with you upon your arrival,” Lan Feng says after Lan Qiren has delivered his last account of the business he had discussed with Jiang Fengmian while in Lotus Pier. Her tone is just acerbic enough to be plausibly deniable but impart her displeasure with him nonetheless.

“A child from Yunmeng and a new ward of the Gusu Lan,” he replies with a nod in her direction.

“The children’s hall is not prepared to accept a new occupant.”

Lan Qiren very carefully doesn’t curl his hands into fists on his knees but he’s unable to keep his fingers from twitching slightly – he just has to hope that it goes unnoticed.

“I will be taking the boy in myself.”

The ensuing silence is heavy around his shoulders, full of the weight of the intense judgement he has become well accustomed to after feeling it for most of his life.

“That is inadvisable.”

“I understand it is not ideal, but I have already given the boy my word that I will take responsibility for him.”

“Your duties to the Sect and the Heirs take precedence over this...ward.”

“They do. The boy’s presence will not keep me from fulfilling them.”

“You were never meant to run the Sect,” Lan Yun intones. The criticisms that have already been levelled at him thus far have come from several of the elders, but they all go still at this (rather unnecessary) reminder of Lan Qiren’s inherent shortcomings. Lan Yun is the oldest of the lot as far as Lan Qiren is aware - certainly his word carries the most weight. He is also, in Lan Qiren’s experience, extremely opinionated and unafraid of offending anyone at all. “Your work is still standard at best, nothing like what we expected of Qingheng-Jun prior to his indiscretion. You should focus on improving for the sake of the Sect rather than wasting your energy on a stray child from Yunmeng.”

The general murmurs of assent that pass through the gathered elders have Lan Qiren’s neck tingling and he digs his fingertips into the tops of his thighs just above his knees to attempt to ground himself.

“I am aware of my faults,” he says with his gaze trained on the floor beneath him to avoid letting any of them see the anger burning in his gaze for their flippant dismissal of him, as if he hasn’t known his entire life that he has never been as favored as his brother, never meant to do great things. As if he doesn’t know he is absolutely no one’s first choice for much of anything.

The elders have always wished Qingheng-Jun would lead them. His nephews have wished their whole lives that their parents would raise them, particularly their mother prior to her passing. He is a good teacher, an excellent one even by many standards outside of Gusu, but there are others within Cloud Recesses who have more experience than him who would be chosen before him no matter the circumstances. The only thing in which he truly excels is his knowledge of the rules, but that is only to be expected. All Lan disciples know the rules, it’s not impressive that he does as well even if he has a better understanding of those rules than many would be able to claim.

Yes, Lan Qiren is extremely aware of his faults, as he has never been allowed to forget them.

“I am aware of my faults,” he repeats into the heavy silence. “However, I have an obligation to this boy. He is alone in the world and frightened. I do not believe he will excel with any guidance but my own at this time.”

“Beware of pride, Lan Qiren,” Lan Feng warns instantly, to remind him yet again that none of them thinks he has any noteworthy skills to speak of.

“It is not pride, but humble observation. I understand that had someone else found the boy there are many who would raise him better than I will. However, he has grown to trust me these last few days and I believe he will be open to instruction from myself before anyone else with whom he is unfamiliar. I will prepare him to take classes alongside his agemates when the time comes, and then I will turn his education over to those who are more qualified to do so.”

He does not say that Wangji will likely become inconsolable if they attempt to separate the two, as that would only prove his defective parenting in being unable to control the emotional response or Wangji’s behavior - or perhaps even in encouraging the boy’s affection in the first place. He does not say that Wei Ying will likely lash out should he feel himself backed into a corner in which he doesn’t feel safe, as that will only be further proof to them that Lan Qiren will be unable to handle raising such a difficult child along with his other duties. He does not say that once upon a time he had been the top academic in his classes and that, should they allow him a proper chance to teach he might continue to improve enough to meet their standards, as that would show ingratitude and perhaps the threat of pride again, that he thinks himself capable of becoming better than the current teachers who have been instructing the Lan youth since he had been a child.

He learned very quickly after being thrust into his current position in life that anything he says to the elders beyond that which is absolutely necessary could easily turn into yet another weapon in their hands, and so he says the bare minimum and accepts their displeasure with him as steadily as he can bear.

“The moment this responsibility becomes too difficult for you to maintain, you will relinquish the boy to a more appropriate situation,” Lan Yun declares. “We will closely monitor the boy’s behavior and studies to ensure you are not neglecting this responsibility you have taken on.”

It’s the same thing they said to him when he took Xichen in following his birth, and Wangji’s as well. Lan Qiren bows fully both to acknowledge the threat of losing the children he loves due to his own incompetence as well as to take his leave.

“This humble one thanks the elders for their wisdom,” he barely manages to say through the tumultuous thundering of his emotions. He stands and retreats with his head held high and shoulders braced against the stares that follow him out of the room like an angry ghost at his shoulder.

He doesn’t breathe easily again until he’s nearly all the way back to his rooms, but he knows already that he’s in no position to attempt to be calm and collected for the children as he needs to be and so he takes a different path to begin walking the familiar track that marks the perimeter of the wards that protect the inner residences and main pavilions of Cloud Recesses.

He’s constantly aware, of course, that the Sect as a whole (not just the elders) is watching and waiting for the day he fails. There probably isn’t a day that the knowledge of it doesn’t cross his mind, though after over a decade of it he can typically ignore the way it makes his shoulders tense and his gut feel empty and hollow. He has long since resigned himself to doing what must be done on his own and being judged for it at every step of the way. And yet, for some reason, his discussions (if they can be called such) with the elders never fail to make him feel like a much younger man again, still reeling from the whirlwind of his brother’s misbehavior and subsequent isolation and suddenly being handed the reins his brother had so carelessly tossed aside - all for the love of a woman who didn’t even love him in return.

He had never been prepared for Sect leadership. Qingheng-Jun had been, for his entire life, the golden child, the pride of the Lan, perfectly primed to take their father’s place when the time came. And he had. He had been allowed to grow into the position, the expectations. He had been carefully trained first at their father’s knee, and then at his side until the mantle of Sect Leader was comfortably and naturally passed from father to son when their father had been ready to retire. He had retreated from the world confident in the security of his sons, Qingheng-Jun bringing honor to the ancestors and to the Sect, and Lan Qiren doing his duty to support the Gusu Lan in whatever way he could with his average cultivation and unwavering loyalty.

He had never once been expected to lead the Sect, or to even provide heirs let alone raise them. No one had ever expected much of him at all, really – he was only the spare, the emergency plan, the lackluster younger brother who paled in comparison next to the radiance of Qingheng-Jun.

It had never truly bothered him until the day all eyes had suddenly turned to him and found him wanting, but unfortunately necessary.

He has spent every day since fighting to be respected, fighting to show that simply because he was unprepared that does not make him unfit for the responsibilities laid at his feet. He had done as much as he possibly could to learn what was needed without the elders’ help, as their guidance in those early days had visibly come with the cost of any burgeoning respect they may have for him, any potential hope at all in his capability.

He had barely begun to feel he had his feet under him when word had reached him that Madam Lan was pregnant. He supposes now, with a wry, dark sort of amusement, that his brother had at least performed one more useful function in his seclusion (even though it was clear evidence of his breaking it) and provided the Sect with the heirs that Lan Qiren very heartily did not wish to. Not only did the mechanics of such a thing make him feel like running to seclude himself from the rest of the world as well, but the idea of passing his unlucky reputation onto whatever children he could help produce had always made him equally ill at ease. At least Xichen and Wangji are free of the taint of his direct lineage, for surely any heirs of his blood would face the same sort of unfavorable scrutiny as he has himself. Xichen and Wangji, though they’re being raised by him, are already the darlings of the Sect for which he’s immensely grateful.

Though Xichen’s birth had been another addition to his responsibilities, it was one that Lan Qiren had welcomed in a way he never would have expected of himself prior to the precise moment Xichen - then a wide-eyed infant with a perfect little shell-pink pout and full cheeks - had been carefully placed in his arms. He had reached one chubby hand up as if to touch his face, Lan Qiren had leaned down to allow it, and in that moment he had promptly lost a piece of his heart to his first nephew – a piece he was more than happy to lose.

Despite Lan Qiren’s numerous shortcomings and failures in raising him, Xichen is already showing promising signs of growing up into an incredible man. He will lead the Sect well, of that Lan Qiren is certain, but he also knows that Lan Xichen will be kind and generous nearly to a fault, and he already cares deeply for every person he meets. He’s good, genuinely good, down to his core, and the Sect adores him, including the elders. Lan Qiren can only be grateful that he’s so far free of the stain of the previous generation.

When Wangji had followed after his brother five years later, Lan Qiren had been much more prepared to shoulder the burdens of parenthood and juggle them easily with the demands of Sect leadership, though no one but him seemed to believe that to be the case. The elders had watched him like a hawk for years after Wangji’s birth, waiting for him to slip, for the boys to show signs that he was anything less than attentive and dedicated to their improvement, or that he was so engrossed in their development that he was letting the Sect fail for their sakes.

He can recognize now with chagrin that the external pressure had led him to be stricter than he would have otherwise felt inclined to be with the boys. Xichen, with his gentle nature, shows fewer signs of this error. But Wangji, who is so like Lan Qiren in too many ways to count, has taken every stern word to heart and become such a serious little thing that Lan Qiren knows even Xichen sees enough of it to be worried on his brother’s behalf. Lan Qiren had worried when he fell silent following Madam Lan’s death that that would be the excuse the elders needed to take the boys away from him, but thankfully they only see it as a phase, a sign that he’s taking the rules to heart perhaps a little too much but an extreme that he will ultimately grow out of. Lan Qiren, who often wishes he had the luxury of keeping utterly to himself in such a way, is not as convinced that that will be so. He keeps this fear to himself for Wangji’s sake.

Either way, the boys are both praised at every turn for the credit they are to their Sect, and Lan Qiren is more grateful for their presence in his life than he will ever find the words to express. His own stain on the Lan legacy will be short lived in the grand scheme of their history, and his only hope is that Lan Xichen shines so bright in his adulthood that Lan Qiren’s failures will be forgiven him.

As the sun dips deeper in the west Lan Qiren takes note of the time almost without thought and turns his slow steps towards home again, aware that Wei Ying will wake soon and he should likely be there when he does. He doesn’t know yet what kind of child Wei Ying will prove himself to be when some of the rough edges of his experiences have been sanded away and his behavior corrected into proper paths, but he hopes that he too will live to outshine Lan Qiren as a final proof to the elders that bringing him into the Sect wasn’t a mistake. After so many years of fending for himself and being on his own Lan Qiren can’t help but think that Wei Ying deserves support, a family, a place to call home that is capable of being kind to him.

Lan Qiren may never in this life earn the support or affection of the Lan simply for the crime of being born second-best and forced to take the helm despite that, but by the gods he’s going to ensure that the children in his care will never have reason to doubt that they’re appreciated and loved here in their home.

[make-me-imagine]

County Fair

Request: County Fair first date with Bruce Banner + some nosy Tony

Requested by: @thebookbakery

Pairing: Bruce Banner x GN!Reader

Warnings: None       

Words: 1.9k

A/N: We’ll say this takes place sometime after the first avengers movie, but before Bruce gets lost in space (Age of Ultron/Ragnarok).  This was pretty nostalgic for me lol, I haven’t gone to a County Fair in years. The one mentioned is based off of the one I went to growing up. Also, sorry the ending is a bit rushed/messy, I’m hor-rib-le at endings lol.

- - - - - - - - - - 

“Do you like fairs?” 

The question cut you off guard when he asked, Bruce’s voice breaking the silence of your steady work at the Avengers base.  

“Fairs? Like county fairs?” you asked, setting down your pen.

“Yeah” he glanced at you slightly, he seemed nervous. 

“I love them, haven’t gone to one in ages though” you replied, your thoughts wandering back to your childhood, going to the fair with your friends. 

“Me either” he smiled lightly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh, well” he fidgeted with his pen before clearing his throat and looking fully at you “I found out that they are having nearby next week”

“Oh really?” you asked, the idea of going exciting you a little.

“Wanna go?” he asked, his voice rushed and a little quieter.

“With you?”

“Uhh, yeah, I mean, if you don’t-”

“That sounds great Bruce, I’d love to” you smiled widely at him, which he returned after he had, what appeared to be a momentary malfunction. 

“Now, what I’m wondering is, is this a friendly get together, or a date?” you asked, somewhat surprised at your own boldness.

After another slight malfunction Bruce stuttered out “Uh, well. It could be either, but I’d prefer it to..be a-, a date” 

“Good, me too”

Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had with Bruce a week prior as you glanced around the small groups of people going in and out of the entrance of the county fair. It was around five in the afternoon, you had suggested going at this time, as the ambiance of a county fair was always the best in the evening you thought. 

The smell of popcorn, and mixtures of various sweet foods filled your nose as the sound of screaming and laughter coming from within the park echoed around you. 

“Alright, you ready?” Bruce asked as he approached you, having gone back to get a jacket from the car.

“Yep” you replied, excited smile on your face. 

As you entered the fair, your eyes wandered from booth to booth, from dressed performer to the occasional crying child. Nostalgia of childhood county fair trips rushing to your brain. Reaching the middle of the park entrance way, you both stopped, eyeing your possible paths.  

“Which way first? Animals, games, food, or rides?” you asked

“Honestly, I’ve never been a fan of the rides” Bruce commented as his eyes followed a nearby coaster cart going upside down on a loop.

“Me either” you said. Lying or not, you weren’t too bothered by not going on any rides “Except for the Ferris Wheel” you commented.

“Yeah, I’ve never had a problem with that one”

“Then that will be our last stop, the Ferris Wheel is always best at night anyways” you said, earning a nod of agreement from Bruce. 

“So, how about down the shopping booth lane first, go around through the animals, then back up through the food booths, eat, then play some games, and finish at the Ferris Wheel?” Bruce asked.

“Sounds like a plan” you smiled.

You linked your arm through his, earning a slight shocked, yet blushed glance and smile from Bruce as you began wandering down the nearest area towards the booths of people selling trinkets, toys and clothes. 

After stopping at the first booth that caught your eye, you started admiring some handmade crafts. Bruce kept glancing at you, hoping you were having a good time. Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket he quickly checked it.

‘How’s it going? You kiss on the ferris wheel yet?’ - Tony

Bruce rolled his eyes before looking at you, checking to see if you were looking before he replied.

‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you about this’ -Bruce

There was a quick reply.

‘Nonsense. Now answer my questions’ - Tony

Instead, Bruce shoved his phone back into his pocket and walked over to you, looking at the blown glass jewelry and trinkets you’d been looking at. 

“Aren’t they cute?” you asked, tapping your finger on a small blown-glass Ferris Wheel ornament. 

“Yeah. I always wondered how hard it was to make this kind of stuff”

As you moved to the other end of the booth, Bruce eyed the little Ferris Wheel trinkets for a few moments before quickly, and without you noticing, buying two matching ones and shoving them into his pocket. 

--- --- --- 

By the time you got through the shopping booth section, you and Bruce each had a large bag, containing random trinkets and clothes. As you continued, heading through some small gates you were immediately smacked in the face by the smell of manure and grass. The sound of pigs, chickens, horses and cows getting louder the closer you got. 

The two of you spent around 45 minutes wandering through the barns and fenced in areas, eyeing and petting an array of barn animals. As you were petting and talking to a large black horse at the stables, Bruce felt another vibration in his pocket. This was the umpteenth one in the last ten minutes.

Sighing, he pulled his phone out, as he quickly read through some of the most recent messages.

‘Bring me back some cotton candy’ - Tony ‘And maybe a funnel cake’ -Tony  Pepper

‘If you go to the barns, don’t step in cow shit, that’ll ruin the mood’ - Tony

‘Are you really going to ignore me?’ - Tony ‘You know what? I’ll remember this’ -Tony

Bruce shook his head in amusement as he put his phone back in his pocket, looking up and admiring you for a moment. You had a big smile on your face as you stroked a large light brown horse’s head and whispered to it, words he was unable to hear.

As you glanced past the horse and spotted Bruce, you smiled at him before stepping away from the horse “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry”

Bruce smiled “I could definitely eat” as you walked over to his side, you both turned, walking back towards the more crowded central area of the fair.

--- ---

As the sky began to darken, you and Bruce, having just finished eating an assortment of random fair foods, i.e,; churros, funnel cake, some loaded fries, etc. You stopped at the first game booth that caught your eye.

You were each given three balls, three chances to knock down a tower of pins, if you knocked them all down you’d win a prize. 

Taking your chances, you managed to knock all of them down. Winning a stuffed version of your favorite animal. Bruce, taking his turn, missed his first shot entirely, and only knocked down all but two of the pins after his last two chances.

“I was never good at throwing” he commented, making you giggle. 

Feeling a vibration in his pocket, he quickly checked his phone. ‘I am going to assume that since you haven’t responded things are gong well ;) ’ - Tony

Bruce sighed before typing out a quick reply ‘Shut up Tony’ - Bruce

“You alright?” you asked, seeing his annoyance at whoever messaged him.

He looked up at you “Huh? Oh yeah, just Tony being a pest” he admitted.

You laughed as he turned his phone off entirely and put it back into his pocket “He certainly knows how to be one of those”

Bruce smiled at you, chuckling “Yes he does”.

Clearing his throat he looked at the other booths, his eyes landing on the duck game. Catch three rubber ducks from a ‘pond’ with a net, each duck has a letter on the bottom S for Small, M for Medium, L for Large, whichever you get the most of i.e 2/3, equals the size of prize you get.

He pointed at it “Now that looks like a game I might be good at’

“One you never lose?”

“Exactly” 

You chuckled at him, as you both made your way to the booth.

--- ---

As you waited in line for the Ferris Wheel, you and Bruce continued to talk, joke, and laugh. In your arms, your bag of trinkets, a bag of cotton candy, and three stuffed animals, one of which Bruce won and gave to you. In Bruce’s arms, his own bag of trinkets, a bag of cotton candy for Tony, and a funnel cake for Pepper. 

“I still don’t understand the chances of losing the duck game” Bruce complained, though amused “I got one S, one M and one L, I should at least get a small prize for that”

You laughed at his misfortune with all but one of the games “I swear I thought you couldn’t lose that game.”

Finally boarding the Ferris Wheel you settle in your seats. Looking up at the sky as you began to rise towards it you smiled. The sky had become a dark purple-blue, and some stars were beginning to pop out. 

You sighed “This was really fun” you smiled, looking over at Bruce, who smiled at you in return “Thanks”

“It was my pleasure. And I had a lot of fun too”

As the Ferris Wheel stopped at the top, you both gazed out at the fair around you, the colorful blinking and spinning lights, the sound of people laughing still echoing. 

“I’d like to take you out again, if that’s alright with you” Bruce began “Somewhere different, obviously” he chuckled.

You smiled at him “I’d really like that” you leaned over pressing a kiss to his cheek “I’m glad I wasn’t such a horrible date that you never want to go out with me again” you joked.

He shook his head as he chuckled, silently glad it was dark enough you might not see the red blush on his face “No, you could never be horrible”

--- ---

As Bruce walked you to your door after the drive back, you turned and smiled at him, taking the stuffed animals from his arms he held for you as you unlocked the door “Thanks” you smiled as you opened your door and set everything inside, before turning back to Bruce.

He smiled at you before an expression of realization crossed his face “I almost completely forgot” he reached into his pocket, pulling out to small wrapped objects “I bought these at the fair, one for you, one for me” he handed you one of the small packages.

“For me?” you asked as you unwrapped it. 

“Yeah, just a little something to remember today.”

A smile broke onto your face as you unwrapped the small blown-glass Ferris Wheel you looked at earlier “Oh! That’s so sweet Bruce, I was actually kicking myself for not having bought one” you replied as you looked at him, seeing he bought himself a matching one. 

Your grin made him smile as his heartbeat sped up “I could tell you liked it”

You stepped forward, hugging him briefly before kissing him on the cheek again “This really was a wonderful first date Bruce” you admitted at you pulled away “How long do I have to wait until the next one?” you asked cheekily.

He smiled bashfully “Not long I hope. I’ve got a couple ideas” he teased

You smiled at him “Let me know when you decide on one.”

“I will” he smiled “But for now, I think you should get to bed, we’ve got work tomorrow”

“Well then, goodnight Bruce” 

“Goodnight Y/n” 

As you walked into your house and closed the door, you gave him one last smile as he gave you a small wave goodbye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

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[lunawings]

Minato’s Birthday PriZoom (8/21/21) commentary/report

Oh geez where to begin. 

I originally intended to do two showings this time (which is one more then usual) but due to a last minute decision based on other poor decisions I ended up doing three which was the most I’ve ever done in a row! My translation of the bonus content is in a separate post.

Not only that but like... it kept putting me in the main screen up at the top too!! Like more than I’ve ever been up there! And I’m sure none of this was intentional, but I also happened to be positioned right next to a couple other people who also knew the traditional cyalume cheering stuff so that was really cool!

Heck I even made it onto the Mantan Web article apparently!!? (This is an official event photo.) Am I that recognizable even in blurry pixels? (Haha well I guess there’s the background too...)

I put a lot more concentration into my own cheering this time so I wasn’t clicking around to look at the other people in the room as much and thus I have fewer shoutouts to make. 

I happened to catch a guy trying to balance TWO of the giant Shin mochikoros on his shoulders though? 

And there was that guy hula-hooping to Kakeru’s entire performance!!??

And the person whose screen was just a cheering piece of celery. 

The highlight was probably “Kouji’s Kitchen” though. A Kouji cosplayer who spent the entire show actively cooking. 

I really admire the folks who make the actual food for these showings. I’ve been thinking I want to make pudding a la mode (probably the only KinPri food I could actually manage to make) if they do a Taiga showing next year but how would I keep it from melting during the show ahah ha... (Mashed potatoes I suppose?)

In the weeks leading up to the show I’d been wondering if we’d see any Minato cosplayers. I realized I’m not sure if I’ve actually EVER seen one at a showing (PriZoom or otherwise) as he’s not an easy character to do (what with body type and a lot of Kinpri cosplayers being female) but I think I saw at least two! 

This was the first showing where I made an honest attempt to keep the soundboard on, largely because of @takadanobaba’s posts on it, but also just because it’s our STYLISH NEW ABNORMAL (...watch Idol Land PriPara). Ever since they introduced it, traditional cheering has gotten quieter and quieter with long periods of silence except for big moments like Over the Rainbow’s prism jumps. (And what is King of Prism when you’re actually able to hear it.)

So I tried it, really I did. And as I was saying, I can somewhat see the appeal. People are finding ways to use it creatively to bring out that same brand of humor that makes traditional cheering so fun. I turned it on and off during Pride the Hero and the first half of SSS Part 2. The best and worst moment I had with it came during episode 5 however, when Ace kabedon’d Miyo and Joji pulls up in the car.

D-DDDDD-D-DDDD-D-DDDDDDD-DD-DDD-DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDEEEETAAAAAAAAAA

“But Joji is my star!”

KKKKKK-KK-KKKKKKKK-KKKK-KKKKKKKKKK-KKKAAAAKKKKKKKKKKOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Imagine that but like too fast and too loud for your brain to actually interpret what’s going on.

So that was... that was... that. (Thinking of how it will be at Joji’s actual birthday next month is giving me chills.)

I did turn it back on briefly during Best Ten while Platonic Sword was on. And for some reason I can’t quiiiite comprehend it was a grand chorus of ORE MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Okay, okay on to the meat. This showing had the BIGGEST bonus of all. Masashi Igarashi appeared for a “talk show” at two of the showings. 

One of the first things he pointed out was how, unlike traditional theater greetings, he could see all of our faces individually. And then he actually clicked through all of our video feeds and made comments!!!! (Tatsuyuki Kobayashi didn’t do that.) 

Throughout the first session he actually directly acknowledged me THREE SEPARATE TIMES. The first time was when he recognized that I had S-Pulse Dream Plaza as my background. (The real life location in Shizuoka where Minato saw Kouji for the first time.) The second time was when I pasted a message into the chat about being his American fan and HE ACTUALLY READ IT! The third time was during the All Stars Playback when they put me on the screen and he thanked me in the chat again for putting up Dream Plaza. 

I’m really happy I put in the effort to do a meaningful background! 

All of a sudden I’m inspired to do more for each character. It was years before King of Prism existed, but I did go to Okayama once. I’m thinking I might need to sort through some old photos before Joji’s showing.

Anyway. 

Masashi-san didn’t really seem to have anything planned out to say. He just kinda played off us when he could and rambled for a while about how great Minato and King of Prism is and all that. I think he’s a bit better when he has someone else to play off of. (Junta usually ends up being his straight man.) I don’t even know if he knew what he was saying half the time hahah.

The part that really stuck with me though was when he was talking about how there was such a large concentration of Minato fans here, but then he corrected himself as that’s not necessarily true since King of Prism fans cheer for everyone. So instead of camps for certain characters, he suggested we should do “club activities” as a fandom and since so many people brought vegetables to the showing we were the vegetable club. 

This was followed by a rush of puns in the chat like VegetaBU (”bu” is Japanese for club). 

Another official photo from Mantan web. I love it when they show the “behind the scenes”. 

I didn’t realize the second session of the greeting would be starting at the beginning of the next showing, even though that is how they usually do it for theater greetings (so the voice actor doesn’t have to wait around through another movie). It’s kind of odd that they had two different sessions actually, since pretty much everyone had the opportunity to do both as the tickets didn’t come close to selling out. But more money for them either way I guess. He actually changed shirts in between hahah. (From one Minato shirt to another.)

But anyway, when he suddenly came up on the screen again I was actually in the middle of trying to change the batteries in my cyalumes ahahah. And it put me up top of the main screen AGAIN! I kinda wanted to switch my camera off so someone else could get a chance but I didn’t want to seem rude for disappearing either!!!

Eventually I did turn my camera off, giving up my space, because my cyalume blades were all DYING from having been on CONSTANTLY since the beginning of Pride the Hero and I didn’t want it to seem like I was checking my phone or something while I was changing the batteries. (One of them ended up cutting out during Best Ten anyway because in my mad scramble to change the batteries I guess I put the old ones back in haha.) That felt like the right decision since I crashed and burned pretty hard during the middle of Best Ten. (Cheering fatigue is rare for me but I was pushing 24 hours being awake at this point...) I also sure heck didn’t want to be up there during Love Graffiti BUT I didn’t do as bad as I thought. The drills I did without the video before the showing paid off! I’m so happy I’m finally learning it after all this time. Take THAT two year depression spiral.

Although this showing was lively, I have to admit it didn’t quite meet my overinflated expectations, though. I don’t think either room broke 200 people at any point during the showing. I could have sworn at least ONE showing I went to in the past did... I think the Shin/Louis one maybe... but looking through my past posts I can’t find a mention of it. ...Wait, even if that’s true I guess it doesn’t count since we only had one room back them. Mmmrhghg. 

I do have pretty high hopes for the next few months though because Joji and Hiro are EXTREMELY popular characters. 

So you. YES YOU! The person who somehow read this entire post and is now somewhat regretting skipping out on this one. YOU CAN DO IT! I’ll see you are the next one right? RIGHT?? OKAY!! 

[sebbytrash]

Through His Eyes - Part Seventeen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings -   Nightmares, angst, self loathing, sad stuff my guys.

A/N - I’m sorry. Trust me. 

Through His Eyes Masterlist

“No, please. No.” Bucky’s agonised moans wake you, sharply, his hands twisting in the sheets. “Not her, not her.”

“Bucky, shhh, Bucky it’s a dream.” You try to soothe him, smooth a hand across his face. He doesn’t notice, or wake, just continues to fight against some unseen force.

“I can’t.” He pleads, sweat making his hair stick to his face, dark little lines streaking across his forehead to emphasise the pain already written there. “No, no.” He repeats it, over and over, a mantra, a prayer. 

You get up on your knees to crouch over him more, use your hands to shake his shoulders a little and try to ignore the way your heart hammers against your chest, the way it’s threatening to break apart in time with the agony in his screams. “Bucky, wake up! Bucky, you’re okay, you're safe.”

His eyes open, wild and terrified, and you see him see you, see the horror claim his face and see him recoil, push himself further into the mattress to be free from your touch. You know then what his dream was, and how you’d carried it to him when he woke like an unending hell, the dream that won't end.

Your chest is hollow renewed. 

“It’s me, Bucky. You’re awake, I’m here.” You sit back on your haunches, try to give him what little space you can afford without mirroring his retreat and causing any more pain. 

He swallows visibly, closes his eyes with a clenched jaw and then, just when you are about to say something, anything, his eyes open again and lock with yours, a hurricane in those sea-laden eyes. You stare right back, cautious, regretful, because this is everything you wanted to prevent, being the very cause of his pain all over again. A cycle that can never be broken, no matter how hard you try, he tries. 

“Sorry,” he tries to say, voice hoarse from the screaming, swallows again and then clears his throat, “I’m sorry. It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve had one that bad.” You can’t help but notice that he makes no moves towards you, stays exactly where he is, now back pressed against the wall. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, even as you ache to touch him. 

“You don’t have to apologise.” You say, automatically, roll your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt not to press him and then the words pour out of you anyway, like the blood in your mouth. “It was me, right? The dream.” 

He looks away, the muscle in his jaw moving in time to his clenching and then unclenching of his teeth, the darkness of the room dragging along his jaw and high-hollowed cheekbones like he wills them into place, wills a physical barrier between you and him. You hate yourself for asking and yet, need him to answer.

“Yes. It was you.” He says it like it cost him something to do so, each word dragging in the air between you. You feel like a thief, stealing the words from him when he so clearly didn’t want to part with them. A thief further for stealing away his progress like a flesh and blood nightmare, a purgatory made personal for him, for you. 

The silence stretches between you, an open mouth that swallows up all sound and even the memory of sound, a hungry, endless pit of a mouth that swallows you whole. The seconds turn to minutes and slip, like sand, through your fingers and into that mouth until finally, you cast what should be a rope, and instead is an anchor into that mouth-pit. “Well, since I’m up, I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

You see the way his face changes when you say it, think that maybe a slap in the face would have hurt you less and force yourself to climb awkwardly out of his bed and slip out the door before you crumble into dust. He makes no sound, makes no moves to stop you, simply lets you disappear like that dust swept away by the wind.

You retreat to your room, locking the door behind you like it can keep away the thoughts or that wave of despair that's threatening to knock you off your newly found feet, Sam’s concrete already cracking under the strain. You spend hours or minutes pretending to watch TV, ignore Sam when he knocks on your door and Wanda when she texts. You make yourself food and then find yourself staring at the smudges on the wall whilst it goes cold on the table in front of you. The dread in your stomach claws it's way up your throat and threatens to choke you.

You think about that edge you and Bucky had danced along for so long, that leap into the fall you'd taken and those few sweet moments in between where nothing really held its weight to drag you down, soft smiles and smiling, salt water eyes. Well, gravity has its claws in you now, again, you think, and the impact of that fall is fast approaching. 

You know it's him before he knocks, the butterflies that dance along your skin and tumble in your gut whenever he’s near give you more warning than his hesitant knocks, the sounds themselves a sad little song that plucks at the strings of your heart. He waits for you to open the door, which says more about where his head is at than he probably realises, you think, a soft smile that doesn't crinkle his eyes in that way you like is offered, and shared. 

"Hi." You say, and step back to let him in, doing your best to smother those frantic wings.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He rushes out, and you can tell it surprises even him, "I was just caught off guard. And the bruises…"

He trails off and you realise then what he means, your bruises from the sparring with Steve had triggered his nightmares and the suddenness of it makes sense. It changes nothing, but at least it makes sense. 

"You know I'm going to get hurt sometimes, right? What we do here, there's no avoiding it." You begin, not really knowing how to end but knowing that you should.

"I know." His eyes flash, lightning strikes against the turbulent sea, "I just… I didn't know how much it would hurt to see you like that." 

A confession, a secret, meant to be a balm but instead feels like the flames. He'll never be free of the Soldier, you think, not while you walk around like a living hallucination of a past he never deserved. 

"I think…," You start, feel your tongue fat and uncooperative in your mouth, "We need a little space." The air in your lungs already feels like lead, like the concrete that held up your legs is now filling your lungs and chest, drowning you in your own progress.

He says nothing for entirely too long and yet, long enough for you to be grateful for a few more seconds before the collision. "Space."

"I think it's best, don't you?" 

"I can give you space, if it's what you need." He says it like maybe you are the one who needs it.

"Bucky, we can't keep doing this, it's not good for either of us." You say, every bit of emotion clawing its way up your throat, some of it desperate to take back the words. You can feel the shape of each letter scrape against your tongue. "It’s ruining you.”

“It’s not. It’s not.” He says, quieter on the repeat like it’s for himself and not you, his jaw clenches so hard you fear he will snap the tendons. “I love you.”

That’s it, that’s what does it. Breaks you down into all those tiny pieces you used to be, those ones you’ve spent minutes and hours painstakingly stitching and taping back together. You feel the words hollow out space in your chest, replacing the now useless heart that’s beat it’s last beat. The last of your arguments die with it. 

“That’s not what this is, Bucky. It’s a crutch, a coping mechanism. A way to ease all that fucking guilt we carry.” Even to your own ears, you sound void of emotion, the last bit of it carved out by the knowledge of what you had done to him. Guilt howling down the corridors of your heart. “It’s not real.” 

“Don’t say that, of course it’s real.” He breaks the invisible barrier around you and takes your hand, presses your fingertips to his chest, “Can’t you feel it?”. 

He looks at you with such hope that you are almost unmade, the full weight of it hangs off your bones and tries to strip you of that steely nerve but you fight for it, know that this is what he needs if he’s to heal. Go to war with yourself for him. Anything for him.

“I feel a lot of things, Bucky. I feel raw. I feel tired, tired of the guilt, of the fear every time I close my eyes I’ll dream of you, or that I won’t.” The last part sneaks out, betraying more than you want and he latches on to it. “I don’t…”

“Are you afraid you don't love me? Or are you afraid you do?” He asks mildly, like how you might ask about the weather. Or probably, more accurately, like he knows the answer and is just leading you down a path where the answer waits for you to want it.

You shake your head, not in answer but in anger, the kind of uncontrollable rage that comes with defeat. Of words poking at a wound you were denying the existence of. “Stop. Just stop.” Your voice breaks half way, a shout turned cry. A beg for mercy.

“What are you so afraid of?” His voice breaks too, a slow sort of break like the last ebb of his strength, the last air bubble before the silence. It cleaves you in two.

“You!” You shout, pieces of you slipping through your fingertips, not realising what your words would sound like to him. It’s not how you mean it anymore, but he doesn’t know that, takes it on face value alone and you can pinpoint the exact moment you break his ever fragile heart, because you break your own with it. Always with those matching scars and matching pain.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, drift your fingertips across his jaw and let yourself have just one more moment of touching him, “I didn’t....” He closes his eyes, closes himself off, you think, and your fingers smear against the wetness on his face. You turn from him then and head for the door, feeling every single second of the battle and war that raged for him and rages still. 

The sound of the door closing quietly behind you somehow seems worse than if it had slammed, a mirror to the way you had quietly broken the man behind it and even quieter, broken yourself. 

You take a step, and then another, and then more and more until you are out the building and gulping down the fresh air to try calm the beating of your unsteady heart. You fight the urge to go back and undo it all, to somehow scoop up all the words and pieces of you and stuff them back in place but your feet carry you automatically. Somehow, you're not sure how long later but long enough that the sky has changed color, you find yourself at a door, knocking a little too hard and too long until he answers.

“Mallow, what are you doing here?” Clint asks, taking quick stock of your current state and pulling you in for a hug before you can answer.

“I just needed to be away.” You say, and hug him tighter, “Is this okay?”

“Of course it is, come in, Laura’s making cocoa,” he ushers you in, still tucked under his arm, “and you look like you could use some.”