#I’m also sleep deprived right now so we’ll see how long this post stays up

[cranberrytig3r]

Just a glimpse into my sick and twisted mind… if you even care…

[spencers-renaissance]

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

[honestlyfrance]

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky​​​ so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more! 

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on��� erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Or

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Or

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Or

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Or

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

OR

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 18: Nemuri Hime

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Kung Lao gets serious. But forgets to tell you all the important things. Boy, he's good at talking. Lol. Hope you guys are still loving the Lao time! Liu will be back soonish. Planned out his whole part last night and then the future. Question! Are you guys READY for the choice or do you want it drawn out more? Also, for the future of this tumblr, is anyone interested in oc x reader stuff? I have so many ideas that I have never shared Lol. Anyway, thanks for reading. Much love. Update Sunday!

Part 17 Part 19 Chapter Index

“They’re going to have someone in there keeping an eye out now.” Kung Lao kicked a loose stone on the walkway, arms folded over his chest. “So much for that idea.”

“For now. We weren’t getting anywhere anyway.” You were still in wonder that any of that had happened. It felt like a fever dream. Your whole life kind of felt like a fever dream now. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it isn’t in there. I tried to trust the vision and my gut, but it led us in circles. Nothing looked the same as it did back then.”

“Why would it lead you there otherwise? Maybe this shrine has changed more over the years than we thought.”

“You think so?” You furrowed your brow. He had pushed you like you’d been doing something wrong for a small moment inside the shrine but there he was, preaching his belief in you. It’d been easy to escape the frustration of not knowing where you were going with all that had happened in the shrine, but it was back in full force now. You were grateful to Kung Lao for not making it weird, but it was also a little weird to act like it hadn’t happened. You had a feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I trust your gut, Y/N.” He shrugged as if it were nothing. That was nice. You weren’t sure anyone trusted you those days so to hear it put so plainly as if it were no big deal was wonderful. “Let’s take a walk and rethink our strategy.” Together you walked around the shrine and along the path slowly, making your way toward the volcanic cauldrons.

Some were surrounded by posts and signs, expressing what they represented and why the water was the way that it was, but you didn’t stop to try and read any of them. Many of the cauldrons had small statues lined up surrounding their edge, placed there for prayer. You didn’t speak much. It seemed that rethinking your strategy was mostly just thinking. You were okay with that. Your head was still buzzing.

It was important to try and clear the fog from your mind. Between the disorientation of this place being so different from the vision in your head and then everything with Kung Lao, you were dizzy. You stopped before one of the cauldrons and Kung Lao read the sign above it.

“One of the hells of Mount Osore…” He was not good at silence, it turned out. He hadn’t been when you were younger either. You’d asked him once back then and he’d said silence was too loud. The dizziness became a buzzing, and the buzzing became darkness. You thought that you’d drifted to sleep to the hum of Kung Lao’s voice.

When you opened your eyes again, you gasped for breath. Your lungs were on fire, as though you had been deprived of oxygen for too long, as if invisible hands had reached into your chest and grasped your lungs to force all the air out. You lost your footing and stumbled forward but before you fell, Kung Lao had his arms around your middle and was pulling you back to him with a forceful yank. You lost your balance and collapsed into him, grasping his arms in surprise with a yelp. He held you upright.

“What the hell, Y/N? You can’t just do that!” He scolded. You gasped to refill your sore lungs and the ache began to fade. You weren’t where you’d been when you’d been listening to Kung Lao but you recognized the place immediately. It was the lake of blood from your vision. You turned in his arms to apologize but the words didn’t come. How did that happen? How had it happened? His expression went from frustration to concern quickly. You wanted to ask what happened, you wanted to ask him how you’d gotten there, but in your mind’s eye, you could see your body falling into that pool and the horned creature staring over you as you drowned beneath the red water.

You shuddered and covered your mouth. Maybe Raiden was right. It hadn’t felt like there was a shadow hanging over you until then when your body had moved beyond your control.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“What happened? What are you talking about? What did I do?” The words came out extremely fast, all at once almost. Bless Kung Lao for understanding a word of it.

“I was reading about that cauldron over there.” He gestured down the path. It seemed so distant now but that was the last thing you remembered. “And you walked away. I followed you and you stepped up and just went to jump right in. Right into the blood lake. Didn’t respond to me when I called you.” He tried to joke but there was an underlying concern that neither one of you could shake. “If you wanted to take a dip, Y/N, then you just had to say so. There’s those bathhouses.”

“No, no Kung Lao. I… I’m confused, that’s all. I don’t remember coming here. I closed my eyes to listen to you talk.” His low and deep voice was soothing, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that right now. “Then I felt like I was falling, and I couldn’t breathe. Then you and… here we are.” You gestured to his arms that still held you and you felt his fingers sink a bit further into the clothing at your waist as if that would protect you somehow.

“You really don’t remember walking up to the creepy blood lake and almost throwing yourself in?” His face was flooded with concern. You shook your head no. “Okay.”

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do, Y/N. You’re white as a ghost. Why would you lie about something like that? Also, you’re terrible at lying.”

“Thank you?” You couldn’t decide if that was a dig or not.

“Okay.” He exhaled and you watched his face contort as his tongue ran over his teeth. “In that case no more wandering away from me. You stay with me at all times. Got it? We tell Raiden as soon as we can.”

“Okay except that I don’t remember wandering away from you, Kung Lao. You were reading and then…”

“What do you think caused this?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Honestly, afterward I saw this part in my vision. I’d been choking on ink but in my head, I was drowning.” You pointed toward the red volcanic cauldron. “In there. And I could see that creature. He was watching me. I… I thought it was just my brain interpreting the ink in my throat but… what if… Raiden’s right?”

“You doubted that Raiden was right?”

“This has been a lot, Kung Lao. Accepting it all at face value is difficult.” You responded somewhat defensively.

Kung Lao finally let you go and turned away. He pulled off his hat, pushed back his hair, and then cursed. That would have been funny had you not still been coping with almost drowning because your body had decided to try to kill you. “Okay. We’ll deal with that as we go. I’m changing the subject now because I’m not sure how to process what you just did without talking to Raiden.”

“Smart. Avoiding the problem. Like it.” You were happy to go back to thinking about literally anything else. Up until now you’d handled all this nonsense with relative poise. You’d like to keep it that way.

“Let’s discuss strategy. What do you remember from your vision about the room where this artifact is supposed to be?”

“There was a well. The creature placed something inside of it and I heard this horrible ringing in my head. It was… sad?” It was difficult to describe a ringing as having emotion, but it had been sad. You’d had the distinct feeling that it was sad.

“Back up. What about the well? There was no well in that room. In fact, the whole shrine is elevated. There was a step down in the back for dining, maybe? Could the well have been in that area?”

“I think the floor of the shrine used to be level with the ground. Maybe they built over it? I read that it was abandoned here for some time.”

“That’s a very distinct possibility. Great. Now we get to desecrate a holy place. Loving this more by the second.”

“Or we can hope there’s a hatch above the old well or a way to get beneath the shrine without destroying it.”

“There are way too many people here for us to search that thoroughly without being caught.”

“You’re right. We need privacy.”

“And I’m all out of excuses, honestly.”

“The excuse you came up with earlier only really works the one time before it becomes incredibly suspicious.” You felt your face flush despite yourself. Kung Lao stood just behind you and bent over to be closer. You could feel the smirk on his face.

“You kissed me back so… didn’t feel like much of a lie.” He made a kissy sound near your ear and you tilted away and swatted at him.

“Stay focused, Kung Lao! So, we spend the rest of the day and then pretend to leave ahead of everyone. Then we can sneak in after the monks are at rest, right? Hopefully, we find an easy way to get to where we need to go.”

“That’s as good a plan as any.” Kung Lao began to lead you away from the volcanic cauldrons and you were grateful. The air was thicker there and, quite honestly, the more distance between you and the blood lake the better. “And if we’re caught tearing up the floor of the shrine in the middle of the night, then I’m pretty sure that no amount of making out will get us out of it without getting into trouble.”

“If we’re caught then we could try to be honest about it like I wanted to be in the first place.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “You could try it every so often. It works.”

“Wow.” Kung Lao sounded truly insulted but also laughed as if surprised you had the audacity. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just talk like adults for a few seconds. I’m not that little girl that you teased all the time. You don’t have to come up with crazy fake-date schemes. Hell, I’m surprised that you didn’t say we could only afford one room at this point.”

“Oh.” He straightened his posture and furrowed his brow. You nodded as if to confirm that he was far more obvious than he thought he was. “Does it really bother you?”

“Bother is a strong word, Kung Lao. Sometimes you’re just… all over the place. You go from pushing me too hard to not listening to me to having unwavering faith in me. Sometimes in a span of like ten minutes. I don’t mind the teasing, honestly, but it’s difficult to focus when I can’t tell what’s going on with you.”

“Okay.” He puffed up his cheeks as he thought and then exhaled deeply. “So, I don’t quite know how to act around you.” You were genuinely surprised that he was speaking so candidly. You’d expected him to laugh it off and move on. He didn’t.

“Why? I only expect you to be yourself.”

“I know. That’s not on you. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t always act like there’s a whole lot going on in there.”

“Wow.” He winced.

“Sorry, it was easy. I get it though. I have a lot on my mind too, but you are all over the place since you got back. You tease me like we’re kids, then you flirt with me like we’re very much not kids, then you push me when I tell you that I can’t be pushed anymore. It is a rollercoaster spending time with you.”

“I guess I didn’t realize I was so all over the place.” He laughed and you walked together again. The further you were from the cauldrons the better you felt. “It’s funny. I’m still a little shocked that you’re here with me. Little Y/N. My Y/N. Weirder than that is that you are the person I found peace in when I returned home to clear my mind. I never thought I’d see you again. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.” He avoided your eyes, and you got the chills but refused to shake them off. Him speaking so fondly of you in such a serious tone was freaking you out. These were things that you probably should have talked about far sooner. Instead, it felt as though he’d gone into some weird unspoken competition with Liu Kang for your attention. It wasn’t a competition. You just wanted to talk to him. “Your hair threw me off, I think. You didn’t keep it white. Same face now that I know. Cheeks aren’t so chubby anymore, though.” He pinched your cheek playfully and you scrunched up your face and swatted his hand away.

“I… didn’t recognize you either and you came into my store at least a dozen times over the last couple years. And the dojo just as many. I remember you fondly. You were always very kind with the students. And you look way different, I mean I can still see it, but you had these… dimples as a kid.” You poked the sides of your mouth. “They were so deep then. You still have them but they’re much more subtle.” It was funny. Something about his honesty cleared the air at least for the time being. “Also, I thought you were dead. So, I never considered I’d see you again.”

“You would have been crazy to have guessed it was me.”

“Sometimes I think that I have gone completely crazy and I’m in a hospital somewhere. That this is all an elaborate fantasy that my mind has conjured up to help cope with my madness.”

“I could see that.”

“What? The wild improbability of the truth?”

“No. You being in a nuthouse somewhere.”

You laughed and shoved his shoulder. He nudged you in return. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”

“I defaulted to sarcasm with you. Being together reminds me of when life was simpler. It’s easy to joke and get carried away but I understand that there is also distance with time and age and that this is extremely complicated. And that we haven’t talked about it. Talking about this kind of stuff makes me feel… uncomfortable.”

“What? No. I couldn’t tell.” You walked peacefully along the stone path. Across the way the monks were giving a demonstration and others were setting up tables for a meal near the white beach.

“Can I confess something?” He led you off the stone and down onto the white sand that bordered the beautiful, but absolutely artificial looking, lake. He offered you his hand to help you down and you took it. He didn’t let go of it as you walked together. Fun new game again: fake date or Kung Lao being affectionate? Your brain hated this game. Your heart hated it even more.

“That depends. Is it appropriate to say? Will I smack you when you make this confession? Will you be getting smacked and are you ready to risk being smacked?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to gauge how grown-up Y/N will react to most things.”

“Go ahead, Kung Lao. I’ll try not to smack you but no promises.”

“I uh…” He hesitated and then let go of your hand in favor of grasping the air in front of him as if trying to reach for the words to say what was on his mind. “I hate that you have the dragon mark.” You stopped in your tracks and Kung Lao stopped with you. Of all the things you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

“What?”

“Yeah. Little Y/N. The girl with the gift, mom called you. You had enough problems. Now you’re here. A warrior chosen to fight for earthrealm alongside me and a bunch of other misfits with the same mark. Lost your home. Your life.”

“I could see your logic, Kung Lao, but I’m tough.” Your heart was racing again. Was this serious conversation better or worse than the rollercoaster ride that was Kung Lao? You couldn’t decide.

“Yeah, Liu showed me the bruises you’d left on him. I was a little impressed. However, you, just moments ago I might add, unconsciously almost drowned yourself in a lake of blood. Went completely gray, weren’t breathing, just walked over and almost threw yourself in.”

“Yeah, that is concerning.” He was right. The dragon marking and your arcana had awoken things within you that were beyond anyone’s control, especially yours. You were scared. You couldn’t imagine how it had to have felt to be watching it happen to someone you cared about. “You know, Lao, it’s probably not actually blood. I’d guess it’s algae making the water red…” You tried to joke but it was a feeble attempt. Kung Lao didn’t even smile.

“That’s not the point.”

You stepped in front of him and offered him a tired and forced smile. “I don’t regret where I’ve wound up, Kung Lao.” It was your turn to speak honestly. To say things that you’d meant to say and had been afraid to say for a long time. You’d kept waiting for the ‘right time’ but the time would never be right. “I’m terrified.” You searched around them just to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “I killed people, Kung Lao. I never thought I’d be capable of such a thing. My dojo? My shop? They’re gone. I probably won’t see my family ever again or any of the people I associated with home. That life is gone. It scares me. Everything I knew is… being unlearned and relearned. At the same time? I feel like this is where I’m meant to be.”

“Yeah. You didn’t really get to process much of that, did you? Just went straight to studying and training with Liu Kang.” Kung Lao sounded almost bitter. You hadn’t thought about it that way. Liu Kang had been a beacon of comfort to you but was that healthy? Maybe some of what had escalated your whatever-it-was you were had something to do with your sudden lack of control. You were attracted to him, sure, in a crazy way even, but you were also vulnerable. Maybe the attachment between you had gone from big to huge because of it. You felt guilty. Liu. Oh, no. You’d kissed Kung Lao. Not just kissed him but kissed him. Things were instantly that much more complicated and messy. You had to talk to Liu. You had to sort out your thoughts. You had to do the same with Kung Lao. But you didn’t know how and just kept kissing them. It wasn’t like you’d ever been good at romance.

“It’s been difficult. But also surreal. Easy to forget some of it.”

“I get it. Really, I do. Because I’m not done confessing things yet.” He still sounded uncomfortable but urged his hand to your back and continued your walk. “I’m also super grateful that you have the dragon mark.”

“Well, that’s conflicting as hell. I’m having a hard time processing that.”

“I never would have gotten to know who you were or get to know you again at all without the mark. It’s brought me closure, in a way. I never thought I’d see you again.” You walked in silence and you felt your eyes burn just enough with tears that you thought talking was a mistake. You breathed through the sudden urge to cry until it faded.

“I’d like to state for the record, that you being this serious is freaking me out a little.”

“It’s been known to happen now and again.” He bowed his head politely to you after tucking his hat beneath his arm. “I’m sorry that I’ve been weird since I got back.”

“It’s okay, Kung Lao. This has been difficult.”

“Y/N?” He started, as though he had something important to say. He hesitated then exhaled and replaced his hat back on his head, tucking the strap under his chin. “Let’s keep walking.” He turned away and did just that as though he’d said nothing at all. There was clearly something on his mind that must have been difficult to share. You caught up to him.

“What aren’t you saying?”

He turned to you and searched your face with a glint of worry that faded so fast you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it or not. Then he smiled.

“I’m starving. That’s what I’m not saying. The sun is going to set anytime now and they’re setting up food so we should grab some.” He started back across the sand. You grasped his hand and pulled him back. That was not what he’d struggled to say.

“Lao, really. You can talk to me.”

“I know, Y/N.” He smiled so you let go of his hand. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to talk about it and who were you to say he should be? “Let’s get some food. You’re still gray so I’d like to see you eat.” If nothing else, he at least seemed less all over the place. What were you going to do? You didn’t know so you couldn’t think about it right now. You’d take everything one step at a time. It was all you could do.

[caramelcal]

the hideout

day three of the april 500 follower celebration! an avengers one this time. hope you guys enjoy <3

the fact that i’m just posting this and it’s 10:30pm really says a lot about my dedication for this...I have no motivation anymore LMAO idk it’s only three days in but this has been a major flop but enjoy anyways besties <3

also just a quick note, i refuse to believe that what steve done in endgame happened, so it didn’t. steve is still alive in this. Also, it doesn’t have much detail but I didn’t really know what to describe because they don’t know each other like at all ahahah

"You scared me!" "I scared you?" "Why are you creeping around in the dark like that?" "What do you mean, creeping? Unlike you, I live here!"

the rest of the prompts can be found here.

Six months. That was how long Molly had been away on her mission. Granted, she had got a few miles on her soul, but she didn’t get to see much. She single-handedly managed to destroy a hydra base from the inside, gathering as much intel as she could get her hands on before fleeing. She didn’t stay to watch the dust settle, that was the clean-up crew’s job.

She was happy to be back in her own bed, though. In her own apartment, in her own space. She would finally be able to relax properly, surrounded by her own things, and able to meet back up with her friends. She had never been so relieved to see the wooden door of her apartment.

It was 6 am so she tried her best to be quiet, her spy skills really coming in to use as she silently placed her key into the lock of her door. Her door opened as she walked in, going to reach for the lamp as she looked over the room of her kitchen/Livingroom open-plan space until her eyes caught onto something.

A body. In her apartment.

Her hand halted, not bothering to turn the lamp on she kept her eyes on the figure. They looked big; muscular. Molly didn’t scream, she didn’t even make a sound, staying silent as she crept around the side of the room, hiding in the shadows. The blinds of the room weren’t completely closed, letting the tiny bit of light that the early summer mornings provided filter into the room, specifically on the what seemed to be sleeping person.

She had a bed, obviously, and it confused her as to why this man would choose to sleep on the floor with a sheet underneath him than her bed. If he was going to invite himself into her home, he could have made himself comfortable.

Molly was about 2 feet away from her kitchen counter, which had a gun strapped underneath for emergency break-ins and she was pretty sure this counted. Sure, she had weapons on her, but they were in her bag and she was concerned the zipping of her bag would awaken the intruder.

A groan sounded from over in her direction as he rolled over and she moved quickly, making the floor creak. Fuck. Suddenly he sprung awake, cold blue eyes darting around the room until they landed on her, and he jumped up. At his abrupt action, she made the final leap for the gun, successfully getting it, loading it, and pointing it in his direction.

Her brown eyes met his blue and she realized he was taller than she had thought he was going to be. He was shirtless, dog tags around his neck glinting in the moonlight but that wasn’t the only thing that was.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me! Want to stop that?” He called out, asking her to point the gun in a different direction from him.

She raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk, realizing exactly who he was, “I scared you?”

“Yeah!” He flailed his arms slightly, the light glinting on the metal arm once more, “What are you doing creeping about like that?”

Was he being serious? She got that they had mutual friends, Steve and Sam to be exact, but surely they wouldn’t have given him the right to go into her apartment.

“What do you mean creeping? I live here!” She cried out, grip never loosening around the gun.

He let out a small laugh as he shook his head, “I think you have the wrong apartment, doll.”

“Okay if that’s your logic, how did I get in ad how did I know there was a gun hidden in here?” He hummed in response, rocking back and forward on his heels making his dog tags clank rather loudly.

He shrugged a little, suddenly getting bashful, “I got told this was a vacant safe house. It makes sense someone owns it though, explains the diaries.”

Her eyes opened in horror as she let out a cry, “You read through my diaries?”

She was very happy for the shadows right now, not only because it was providing her a slight sense of security, but because it was hiding the blush of embarrassment that coated her cheeks. Her diaries were hidden away, some of her most prized possessions, she talked about her feelings in them, he must have done some digging for them. Especially considering that they were concealed underneath a wooden slat in the floor underneath her bookshelves.

“Yeah, wooden floorboard under the books? I looked through your book selection, good choices.”

How could he be so casual about this? He just found out that he had been intruding in someone’s home for the past six months possibly, how was he acting as if this was casual?

“How long have you been staying here?”

“Four months, roughly,” He coughed lightly, rubbing his nose awkwardly.

She lowered the gun slightly with a sigh, rubbing her forehead. Maybe she was too tired to properly care, considering she had been deprived of a good night’s sleep for six months, but all she wanted to do right now was sleep and she wasn’t going to get that from standing there and talking to the super-soldier.

With the gun still in her hand, she began to retreat wordlessly to her bedroom, but not before she heard a hushed whisper from behind her, “Hey, where you goin’?”

“To bed,” She said without turning back, “We’ll talking about...this tomorrow.”

“It’s already six am.”

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, I haven’t got a good sleep in six months so if you could please just let me go to bed that’d be great.”

She had turned back to look at him now, brown meeting blue once more as he hesitantly nodded. He could see the prominent bags under her eyes, the slight slouch in her posture, and he knew she was telling the truth. She was probably just happy enough to be back in her own home.

“Hey,” He called out once more, taking a few steps forward but still staying in the Livingroom, “Can I at least know the name of the girl’s house that I’ve been living in for the past few months?”

Silence filled the room once more as her deep, brown eyes surveyed him before her mouth parted, speaking softly, “It’s Molly. Night Sargeant Barnes.”

“Goodnight, Molly.”

[fallout4reactsblog]

companions react to news of the institute christmas party courser revolution and the fact that the institute is now apparently populated entirely by festive rogue coursers in elf costumes and also what ramifications this has on the politics of the commonwealth as a whole. father's drowned corpse, still in his silly santa hat, is now impaled on the antlers of the fake reindeer on the sleigh prop by the institute's metaphorical front door as a warning and a symbol of their casting off chains.

Cait: “You have to at least give them some points for creativity.”

Cait pulls a face, but says, “I guess.”

“Come on, Cait. You could at least admit it’s a little funny. I’d have paid good money to be a fly on the wall that day.”

“It’s fucked up, is what it is. How are you so calm?”

“How are you so stressed?” They lean back in their chair, folding their arms contentedly. “They basically did our job for us. No more Institute.”

She sighs. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe. I guess all we can do is wait and see what happens, huh? Maybe they’ll retreat to their underground hidey-hole and leave the Commonwealth alone.”

“Not countin’ on it.”

“You can be as pessimistic as you like. The way I see it, this is a good thing both ways. Either the Institute collapses without strict management- which would be good- the coursers decide they don’t believe in what the Institute was doing before and stop- also good- or we go in there and only have to kill half of what was there. A win-win-win situation.”

She shakes her head. “Whatever you say. I’m not buyin’ it.”

Curie: “The absurdity of the situation is certainly not lost on me, Madam/Monsieur, but surely there are still, ah, consequences for this?”

“Oh, sure, yeah, definitely. I mean, they’ve basically got my son on a pike on the CIT lawn. But, you know, don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things, as the old saying goes.”

“I... do not think this is a ‘petty thing’ anymore.”

They wave a hand dismissively. “We’ll wait for the dust to settle, then go check it out. Until then, I’m not jumping to any conclusions.”

“I am merely saying that, given the evidence, this seems quite disastrous, especially in terms of political instability.”

“Ah, who cares about politics? Unless they or someone else starts a war, it’ll be fine. Let ‘em live a little. Everybody’s gotta have a rebellious teenager phase at some point.”

Curie wasn’t sure this counted as being a rebellious teen, but if that was what brought sole comfort, she would let them have it.

Danse: Listening Post Bravo is quiet. That’s how he likes it, and how it’s going to stay.

Courser uprising. Of course, it was a courser uprising. What else could it have been? Those things are killing machines; death is everything they were designed for, and now they’ve taken the reigns and can do as they see fit across the Commonwealth with no masters to keep them in check.

He pulls himself a little tighter into his corner. God, what a mess. This is over. They needed to go back to DC and forget they had ever heard of the Institute. Tactical retreat. If Arthur wasn’t so far on his warpath, he might have even suggested it, but he was six feet deep in his “now’s the time to strike” speech with no sign of stopping to think about the hole he was digging.

Well, Arthur could do what he wanted. Danse has had enough of this, enough of the goddamn Commonwealth, enough of the synths, enough of it all. This was his home, now, and he was going to sit here and plant potatoes and forget anything that happened outside. Especially the fact that coursers even existed and could, presumably, come knocking on his door at any moment. 

He was going to make an effort to forget that first.

Deacon: He lets out a long, low, whistle, then turns to Dez. “We should’ve thought of that one first, Boss. It’s genius.”

“It’s madness.” Desdemona pinches the bridge of her nose. “But I suppose it works in our favor, at least for now. There should be chaos in the Institute right about now.”

“Other synths probably saw the carnage.” Glory pipes up. “They might be getting some similar ideas. This could be our moment.”

“Who would’ve predicted this, though?” Deacon grins. “It’s so out there that I can’t even be surprised that it happened. I mean, tell me “Holiday Office Party Leads to Destruction of Commonwealth Boogeyman” doesn’t sound like a headline you’d see in the Publick these days. It’s the perfect brand of Commonwealth crazy.”

“The Brotherhood is going to want to get on this,” Carrington says, shooting a glare Deacon’s direction. “We need to act before they can get there.”

“I’ve reached out to our man on the inside,” Deacon replies, glaring back. “But until we hear back, we might as well enjoy the show.”

Dez shakes her head. “I suppose so.”

Gage: “Honestly? Can’t blame ‘em. That holiday party sounds like an actual nightmare. I’d kill someone if they stuck elf ears on me, too.”

“Damn. There go my plans for next Christmas.”

Sole’s tone is dry enough he can’t tell if they’re joking. “I’m serious, Overboss. You even look at me with a costume-”

“I value my life, thanks.”

“Just providin’ fair warning. I don’t think any of the others would take kindly to it, either.”

They shake their head. “Mason wouldn’t mind. He practically dresses up in a costume every day.”

“Are you shitting me? He’d be the one that hated it the most.”

“Absolutely not. Mags would hate it the most.”

He thinks about it a moment, then replies, “Fair point, but what about Nisha?”

Sole sucks in a tense breath. “Oh, that’d be a mess. A bloody, ugly mess. Moral of the story: no holiday parties.”

“Good advice.”

Hancock: “I mean, good for them?” He stares at the ceiling, still a little baffled. “I guess?”

“But what does this mean, John?” Fahrenheit lights up a cigarette across from him.

“Well, we’ll be fine. I have that on good authority. Everybody else...” He makes a face.

“Exactly. No one knows.”

“No one even knew this was an option.” Smoke hisses between his teeth. “I mean, it’s fitting that they’d go up in smoke because of their own arrogance, but still.”

“People are losing it.”

He snorts. “Think of the Brotherhood. They must be havin’ a real heyday over there. But us? We’ll be fine. That’s what matters, right?”

“That’s what matters.”

MacCready: “I honestly don’t know what to say.”

Sole shrugs. “Then don’t say anything. I’m still not sure how I feel about it myself.”

“This is a good thing, right?” He looks to them for some explanation. “Right?”

“It’s too early to say, yet.”

“’Too early to say’? It’s a courser uprising for crying out loud. Forget what I said. This is bad.”

“Could turn out to be good, though.”

“Okay, it could, but...” he shakes his head. “What the heck. You’re right. We’ll see.”

Still, it’s a messed-up way to go. The only thing worse than being killed by a courser, he imagines, is being killed by a courser dressed up as a holiday elf.

Nick: He blinks slowly, purses his lips, then carefully folds his newspaper and puts it to the side.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know. Crazy, huh?” Sole pops the cap off a Nuka-Cola and takes a seat on his desk. “All it took was a Christmas party.”

“I gotta say, this wasn’t among the ways I thought the Institute would go. Up in a firey ball, sure, but at the hands of killing machines dressed as Santa’s elves?”

“That’s what makes it so great! No one saw this coming, the Institute least of all, I assume. Can you imagine the mess that must be happening at Boston Airport right now? The Brotherhood is shitting their pants as we speak.”

He just shakes his head. “We can close that case, I guess. I’m not sure if I should be happy for them or horrified at the circumstances. Still, we should be careful; it’ll be hard to know what a change in leadership means for us.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’ll give ‘em credit for creativity, though.”

Piper: This is the best thing to happen all year.

For once, papers are flying off the shelves. She’s selling copies right off the press, selling them before they’re even printed. She’s on backorder for the story of the festive courser rebellion, which she’d heard all the details about from a Diamond City guard wearing suspiciously Deacon-like sunglasses. But forget him.

People have traveled to get here and get their hands on the Publick. There’s someone from Bunker Hill sitting next to someone from Cambridge next to someone who said they came from the Glowing Sea, of all places. The caps she’s making is more than she could have ever imagined, and she’s glad she faced sleep deprivation to make this one a Publick Occurrences exclusive. It’s been well worth it so far. Nat doesn’t even have to stand on the street to hawk the paper, people are coming right up to her door and knocking, no joke.

She knew the war would be profitable, but it’s made even better by the way it all went down. A holiday party gone wrong is the perfect headline, and if she could find a courser, she’d kiss them for their genius. Because this is the best thing to happen to her since she not-so-subtly implied McDonough was a synth.

Bless the coursers of the Institute for their impeccable sense of style.

Preston: “I have to say, I didn’t expect to be crossing ‘take care of the Institute’ off of my to-do list so quickly.”

Sole cocks their head to the side. “I mean, it’s not gone yet. Just... under new management.”

“New management, new threat in my opinion. You can’t really believe everything is going to stay the same after this. The Institute is going to change in at least a couple of ways.”

“Fair.” They lean up against the workbench. “Kinda crazy how it all went down, though.”

He chuckles. “I’d call that an understatement, General. No one could’ve seen this one coming. Trigger-happy Brotherhood goes on the warpath? I thought we might see that one, but blowing up from the inside?” He shakes his head. “That’s a new one.”

“They kinda had it coming, though. Who thought making killing machines play Barbie was a good idea?”

“Someone who came to regret it, no doubt.”

[jayflrt]

hihi !! how are you on this (v cold v windy even though it’s supposed to be spring) day ? tbh just wanted to say hi i didn’t actually think this through and now that i’m typing i have no idea where this is going dbdjizmn 👩‍🦯

hmm RIGHT sugar daddy’s almost over (and it’s been the most laugh inducing smau i’ve read so i’ll say it again: user jayflrt [including all five writing blogs] best author i take no objections) and i was hoping i could be on the taglist tor the breakup pact ? + i cannot for the life of me remember if i asked to be on a permanent taglist previously or not ? i think i remember you saying that you didn’t have one, so in that case i’ll just ask to be on the taglist for any of your upcoming works but if you do have a permanent taglist or are thinking of making one i was hoping i could be on it ?

(why is the gap between these two paragraphs so big hello) also also i’m really sorry if this is overstepping at all pls just ignore this bit if it makes you uncomfortable but is alice your name or a nickname or a pseudonym mayhaps ? ik i use my nickname online instead of my government name so i was honestly just curious, pls ignore if this isn’t something you want to answer !!

also also last time i talked about piles of overdue tech work and even though i’ve saved myself from that mess (meaning: used the coding cheat sheet for all of it) i only have a week of chill starting today before assignments are due next week and physical school starts the week after and then >:(( finals are coming up too fast for me to even blink without being scared as well 👉⚰️ what’s worse is that NONE of the teachers even tried to coordinate this shit and now we have several major assignments due in the same fortnight and final exams the week after and oh my god it’s such a mess ?? and we’re expected to be organising farewells for the graduates and making them care packs and writing them letters and shit like no absolutely not cuz at this rate i’ll be needing that anti-aging cream instead of the seniors we’ll be sending off🧍although ngl i’m kinda sad to see a few of them go they were so sweet :(( but the period of time they’ll be promenading in post-exam bliss and throwing parties and planning outfits and trips will be the time exam szn starts for us and become less student more sleep-deprived over-caffeinated zombies so 😃 IM SORRY FOR THE RANT WHY DO ALL OF MY ASKS END UP BEING SO LONG THEY MUST BE SUCH AN EYE-SORE TO READ IM:SORRY

(again why is this gap so big tumblr literally what is going on) anyway i think that’s all for now,, pls stay safe and healthy and take care of yourself and stay hydrated and put yourself first no matter how hectic things get,, bye !!

ps. i’m getting new glasses help they were so expensive my wallet is screaming at me

psps. MC SUNGHOON !! MC WONYOUNG !! MC WONHOON !! WONYOUNG WAS SO NATURAL WITH IT AND SUNGHOON DID SO WELL TOO (but i saw people clowning him in the comments for messing up so SLIGHTLY and i got so mad i ranted on my close friends story at 3 in the morning 💀)

pspsps. (AGAIN WITH THE WEIRD GAP) the weather was so nice yesterday i wanted to show you cuz i have:nowhere else to put pictures help 🤡

pspspsps. this is such a mess of an ask i:apologi here’s heewon to make up for it and because boyfriends texts chapter for sugar daddy

pspspspsps. post-ly hug (if you’re cool with them because we respect boundaries in this household) here you go <3

hi sriza !! i’m doing good hbu? ♡

it’s getting cold here too sobsobs and people aren’t used to cold weather where i’m from so it gets to 60 and we all lose our minds LOL but </3_</3 i have midterms this week so hopefully my cold goes away before thursday ripp

AHHH PLS :((( im so glad it’s been able to make you laugh that’s all i ever wanted to accomplish with that smau 🌷🌷 hopefully breakup pact has the same effect :’)) and i believe you’re on my permanent tag list !! (you’re the first actually 🥰) so dw i have you down for the breakup pact! HELFPP IDK WHY THE “including all five writing blogs” IS SO FUNNY TO ME 💀

(also i think tumblr makes the gaps rlly weird in the drafts but it’s fine when it posts) also alice is my actual name !! alistra and lis are some of my pen names hahah i used to use pen names for a Long time (and i still do) and it’s not necessarily to hide anything (bc what’s someone gonna do w my name 🧍‍♂️) but just bc i find them fun LOL

also omg that sounds like a lot :(( i’m glad you got through it tho !! and i hope you can enjoy this week before things start to pick up 🌷 this week’s pretty rough for me so i’m praying i make it thru LOLL but godd that’s such a mess 😭😭 teachers pile so much work and forget that we have other classes too

seeing seniors graduate is always so sad :(( i cried at my graduation LMFAOOO but the year before i was in a class full of seniors and i sobbed at their graduation because i was so close to a lot of them 😞 BUT TRUE THE SENIORS COULD CARE LESS THEYRE JUST READY TO GET WILD

ALSO NO ITS NOT AN EYESORE AT ALL I APPRECIATE ALL THE WORDS UR WRITING DOWN FOR ME :((

i hope you take care as well and stay healthy/safe !! unlike me 🤬🤬 i’m very very tired of this cold

AND I UNDERSTAND THE EMPTY WALLET VIBES ITS SUCH A DEFLATING FEELING but omg yes wonyoung and sunghoon did so well !! also sunghoon is a rookie idol and it was his first time being an mc so they better cut him some slack >:(( he did so good for his first time tho !!

ALSO IS THAT A GAZEBO??? ITS SO PRETTY WHAT

ALSO HEEWON ARE SO CUTE FOR WHAT LOOK AT THEIR SMILES :(((((

(p.s. i do like hugs 🥰)

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twelve - Father Material

The last injection was one of the worst Victor had had so far. He felt feverish, his stomach churning, angry, revolting against itself. But he knew what would happen should he vomit, so he did his best to keep whatever gunk they gave him that morning inside him.

This time they put them all together in a room, a lady coming in now and then to check their temperatures. He noticed a small boy, probably four or five years old, weeping in the corner of the room. He hadn’t seen any of these kids before, this was obviously their first week there, but they already knew better than to comfort the small boy.

The boy tossed and turned, hands rubbing his tummy, occasionally moaning in pain. Victor immediately understood what was wrong. The injection was making him want to go too.

“Don’t do it here. If you do, they will hurt you.” He whispered to the kid, but his voice was so strained and low from his own suffering that he wasn’t sure if the kid was able to hear it.

And sure enough, a few minutes later, the kid turned to the wall sobbing loudly, his grey sweatpants wet with a brown stain, the room suddenly filled with a putrid smell. Something inside Victor snapped. In seconds he lost all sense of self-preservation, and before he noticed, he was by the kid’s side, stroking his back.

“It’s ok, it won’t be so bad.” He tried to console the kid. “They’ll probably go easy on you because you’re small.”

“What do we have here?” Came the guard, poking the boy with his stun baton to tease him.

The boy’s sobs only grew louder, as he shook in fear. Probably not his first encounter with that baton.

“He didn’t do it on purpose.” Victor intervened. “He’s sick and scared. Please don’t hurt him.”

“Oh but you see, I turned it on already.” He touched Victor’s nose with his baton, the blue light in the tip looking ominous. “What should I do with it?”

Before Victor could answer, the guard hit him right in the gut with his stick, tasing him. Immediately he lost all the strength he had left in his body and dropped on the floor, the contents of his stomach leaving his body, gushing from his mouth and nose. Victor coughed, trying hard not to choke on his own vomit, as the guard chuckled, playfully patting him on the back.

“Look at you, so strong, trying to be a hero.” The guard teased him. “Everybody knows who you are. Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming to save you, maggot. Here, you are just an orphan, and your parents are as good as dead.”

Victor closed his eyes tightly, not wanting the guard to see him cry.

“And tonight, my little boy, me and my baton will pay you a visit.” Victor opened up his eyes to meet an evil grin. “We are having a little slumber party.”

The baton snapped again on his chest.

“Did you hear what I said?” He felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. He found himself back in the orphanage’s Director’s office, and beside him was the woman he loved. He was safe.

“Yes, it’s taking too long.” He guessed. “Don’t worry, this is just a formality. We were already accepted as Owen’s adoptive parents.”

Right on cue, they heard the office’s door open.

“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, we have a new child that is having a hard time adapting. I want to thank you for being here. I was very pleased to know you want to continue with Owen’s adoption.” The director shook our hands and took a seat in front of us. “However, I feel there is a need to discuss this a little further.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Andrea fidgeted in her seat.

"Please understand that most of these children have arrived here due to very dire circumstances. Although he's only four, Owen is no exception. It's rare to see a child go through so much at such a young age."

“What do you mean?” Victor asked. Owen looked like a fairly happy child. At least, as happy as one can get living at an orphanage.

"Owen's mother took her own life, she hung herself on a pillar of their old house. The police told us that they found Owen, desperate, trying to pull his mother down. He was alone, his stepfather nowhere to be found. He also presented bruises all over his body. We believe he lived in a very toxic environment and was a victim of abuse." The director declared with a heavy voice.

“Oh my-” Andrea jumped from her seat, covering her mouth. Victor had no idea of what to say. No child should have to go through that.

“We inserted him in a foster family as soon as we could. Children are resilient at this age, and we believed that the sooner Owen was in a loving family, the faster he would move on from that horrible experience. But unfortunately, it didn’t go quite as we expected.” Miss Dillon sat straighter on her chair. “You see, Owen is a very bright child who has seen quite enough. Not many adults can deal with that. But my hope is with you, things will be different. You understand what trauma can do to a child.”

Andrea fidgeted on her chair nervously, remembering her trauma printed all over the tabloids.

“She means me.” Victor confessed, his poker face instinctively on.

Andrea looked at him with wide eyes, astonished with his confession.

“When I was rescued from the orphanage, Miss Dillon was there.” He explained. “She was the one that stayed with me until my father came to pick me up.”

Andrea’s jaw dropped and she remained silent, not knowing what to say.

“I still have nightmares of the atrocities I saw in that God-forsaken place.” The Director’s smile fell into a disgusted frown. ���I can only imagine how hard it was for Victor to cope with it all.” She gave him a weak smile. “But now, it can serve as something good. Owen will finally have a family that can understand him and help him the way he needs.”

Victor nodded silently. She was right, but for him, it didn't feel good at all. There’s no measure to what he would have given not to have gone through that, or not to have Owen go through losing his only family in such a horrible way.

“Where do we sign?” He finally spoke. “And when is Owen coming home?”

“Well, we should give you some time to prepare a room-”

“It’s ready.” Victor and his wife spoke in unison.

“Then I guess there’s no point in delaying any further.” Miss Dillon got up from her chair. “You can pick him up next Saturday, after lunch.”

Back in the car, Andrea was silent. Victor didn’t need to ask why, he had blindsided her, by concealing the true nature of his relationship with that orphanage. Miss Dillon was one of the few good outcomes of that incident. Seeing children unprotected in such a manner, and subject to such horrifying actions, Miss Dillon had quit her practice as a child therapist and collected as much as she could from benefactors to open her own orphanage, with the solemn promise that if it depended on her, no child would be forsaken. When Victor saw her again, decades later, they were barely scraping by. He used his money and influence to help the orphanage and would make frequent donations to ensure it ran properly.

"I'm sorry.” He sighed. He had his reasons to keep her out of the loop, but this wasn’t fair on her either. Andrea was his wife, he was supposed to share everything with her. Even the things that were too painful to share.

“You don’t need to be.” She looked at him with earnest eyes, yet she didn’t smile.

“I do.” He looked away from her. “I should have told you right away, I-”

“Victor, when we first spoke about it you told me you hadn’t revealed the whole truth, because it was hard to.” She held his hand on the gearshift. “I understand why you didn't tell me about Miss Dillon at first. You didn’t deceive me. You were very clear it would be this way.”

“Why are you being so understanding?” He frowned. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“Ok, listen, I’m not going to say it doesn’t hurt a little that there are things about you that I don’t know.” Her voice was pained, and he looked at her again, worried. “But I also know this is hard on you. So, even if I don’t fully understand, I’ll support you.”

Victor took his wife’s hand lovingly.

“Thank you.” He smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it just didn’t seem relevant.”

“I’m more worried about Owen, honestly.” She leaned on her seat with a sigh. “He’s been through a lot.”

Victor had plenty in his heart to let out about that subject, but he chose silence instead, as he drove them to their home.

“Are you studying those again?” Andrea pointed to his books on the nightstand, as they were going to bed.

“There’s a last one that I didn’t finish.” Victor picked it up and showed it to his wife. “Knowledge is power.”

“We’ll be fine.” She sighed while she pulled the covers to enter the bed, by his side. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” He opened the book to the page marked by one of Andrea’s post-its. “I just like to be prepared.”

“Fair enough.” She turned off the light from her nightstand and crawled under the comforter. “I am going to go straight to sleep, I’m beat. Have fun with your books.” She turned to the other side.

“Where are you going?” He pulled her arm. “Come here. Rest your head on my chest.”

Andrea immediately turned to him, coming closer.

“That is much better, you’re warm.” She snuggled against him. “Are you sure you can read with me on you?”

“Wouldn’t I say so if I couldn’t?” He answered flatly, as he snaked his arm under her.

“Ok, ok, I’m here.” She defended herself, nuzzling his chest. “Grumpy.”

He kissed the top of her hair, his hand caressing her curls.

“Better?” He asked with a softer voice.

“So much better.” She looked up to him, and, understanding her cue, he pecked her lips. “Goodnight, handsome.”

“Goodnight, my light.” Victor turned to his book again.

Although it may seem a good idea to parents to give their children as many toys as they can have, even educational ones, they are depriving the child of the biggest satisfaction in life: to earn things. The very fact that they can earn something by working for it, e.g. by cleaning their room or setting the table, gives the child a sense of confidence and self-esteem that praise alone cannot provide.

“Do you think Owen has too many toys?” Victor frowned.

“Humm?” Andrea sighed sleepily.

“Nothing.” He pecked her head again, chuckling. “Go back to sleep.”

Victor closed his book, lost in thought. He had never considered that Owen could have too much and that it would hinder his development. He had had everything and that didn’t seem to affect him much. Victor never cared much about what he had. He liked the horses and some books his father gave him, but what Victor craved most from his parents wasn’t gifts. It was affection.

For some reason, his mind wandered to a particular moment in his childhood, when he found himself staring at the door of his father's study, wondering if he should knock.

“What do you need? Be quick.” His father spoke, not taking his eyes from some document he was reading.

Victor scraped the tip of his shoe on the carpet lightly.

“A child shouldn’t waste an adult's time.” His father reprimanded. “If it’s not important it can wait till dinner.”

It wouldn’t be important in his father’s eyes, but Victor knew his father would probably not be there for dinner.

“Do you know anything about the girl? And the other kids?” He asked in a weak voice. The nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep, maybe some information could ease his mind.

“What girl?” His father wrote a note on the document he was reading.

“The girl from the orphanage.” Victor tried again. “The one that saved my life.”

His father looked at him for the first time since he entered the study, his eyes full of contempt.

“You are never to speak about that day again, do you hear me? It upsets your mother.” His father turned again to the document. “And the girl you mention is dead. She didn’t survive.”

Victor’s heart broke with guilt. Mia was dead, trying to save him. Someone had died because of him. It was supposed to be him, not her. She was so little and fragile, and now she was dead. All because he was careless. This was all his fault. The walls of his father’s study spun, and Victor had to take a step back to steady himself.

“No, she can’t be.” Victor’s voice trembled, tears escaping his eyes. “She can’t be dead! You’re lying!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Apart from his disgusted glance, his father seemed unaffected by his antics. “Lee men don’t cry. Now go make yourself useful and study. You need to be prepared for boarding school next week. Stop staining my carpet.”

He found himself back in his room, his loving wife still in his arms, but his heart was still in his father’s study, staining the carpet with tears. Pictures of his childhood flooded his brain, all those times he tried to please his father and he couldn’t, all those times he craved his father’s love, only to leave empty-handed. He held his wife tighter as she slept and inhaled deeply her perfume, trying to remind himself that he was a married man now, that he was happy, a far cry from the boy he once was. He was loved, and he had conquered the life that he used to fear.

He closed his eyes and felt her warmth, his fingers memorizing every detail of her skin and her curls, his ears mystified as she let out a sleepy sigh, thanking him for his love, and the memories faded away, one by one. However, the worry remained.

Some adults could be oblivious to the real responsibility of becoming a parent, but Victor wasn’t. Raising a child was an extremely important matter, especially for someone with Owen’s background, who had seen evil at such a tender age. Owen deserved the very best, and Andrea deserved the ideal husband and father by her side. But this wasn’t a business meeting, something that Victor could tackle with facts and figures alone. This particular task required feelings, and the knowledge of what it’s like to be in a family. Victor had a father and a mother, but he never had a family. He had progenitors, but not parents, not really. Well, he had his mother, but even so it was only for a short period of his life. His kidnappers had taken everything else away.

So how could he be a good father, if he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to be one? Even worse, what if he became his own father? He remembered how his father could be to his staff, he remembered how he acted, cold and dismissive, and it dawned on him that he was the same way. He remembered how his father’s employees looked at his father, with this blend of fear and respect, and wasn’t that exactly the way his staff looked at him? He blamed his father for so many things, but what if the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree? What if, even unwillingly, he would treat his son the same way?

Andrea had a good loving family, she didn’t have this problem. Her team loved her; they brought cookies on Fridays and had pizza together whenever Victor had a meeting and couldn’t pick her up for lunch. Andrea knew things like how to play hide and seek, and how to roast the perfect marshmallow with a candle, and what candies were the best. They went to the toy store and immediately she filled a basket with her childhood favorite things: some books, some playdoh, legos, and a slinky. She played with the slinky as they roamed through the store, Victor finding it insufferable, but that was his flaw, not hers. He did not understand what slinkies meant to a child; she did.

So what was his solution? The same as his father’s. The affection he didn’t know how to provide, Victor had compensated for in advance with toys, purchasing every educational toy he put his eyes on. As his father would, and had. Victor got everything he wanted, except for love. And he was doing the same thing already for his son. The thought disgusted him.

Victor left the bed carefully, trying not to wake Andrea up, going to Owen’s room. Although he had painted the walls of his son’s room himself, although he had decorated everything with the meticulous care of a loving father, all he could see now was ostentation, and it horrified him. Toys to fill the hole Victor would no doubt leave in his son’s heart. He couldn’t help but feel dirty. Not only was he being a lousy and lazy father, throwing money at everything, he was stunting his son’s development. That was despicable.

He started removing most of the toys from the shelves, leaving only the ones Andrea had picked. He would need to discuss it more thoroughly with Andrea later, but for now, he needed to make sure he wasn't doing anything wrong. He then looked at Owen's bookshelf, asking himself if all the books he had picked were age appropriate, even if on the cover it said so. Skimming through each one of them, Victor asked himself if stories of killing a wolf could lead to an adult that did not respect animals, or if reading about kissing a sleeping princess would teach Owen to love without consent. Soon he was surrounded by books and toys, frantically going through all of them, his mind reeling as he tried to discern the best options to keep.

His frenzy was interrupted by his wife's sleepy voice.

“What are you doing?” He turned to see her rubbing her eyes. "It's four AM.”

“Go back to bed, it’s cold.” He turned to her. “I just have to organize these, I will join you in a minute.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do it in the morning. Come back to bed.” She came closer and held his hand, pulling him towards the door.

“I want to do it now!” He pulled away, grimacing as he observed his own reaction. “I just want to organize this, you don’t need to worry about me. I need to make sure everything is in order. Go back to bed.”

“Victor, Owen won’t care if his books are not alphabetically ordered.” Andrea looked at him with worry. He knew she meant well, but that only infuriated him more.

“Then what will he care about?!?” He felt himself snap again. “This is all I know how to do.” Holding a stuffed toy, he sat on the bed. “I’m terrible at everything else.”

Victor stared at the toy in his hands as he tried to keep himself in check. He hated when his feelings got the best of him, but he hated even more that he woke his wife up, and now she felt the need to comfort him. He abhorred being a nuisance.

Victor felt Andrea’s arms tighten their grip around his chest. He held her hands. They were cold.

“Do you want to catch a cold? You’re freezing.” He turned around, trying to pull her to his lap. “Come here, I’ll keep you warm.”

In a matter of seconds, Victor had successfully placed her in his lap, her arms resting on his shoulders, fingers running through his hair. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to talk.

“Are you going to tell me what’s upsetting you?” She pressed.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He wouldn’t dare look her in the eye, shame consuming him.

“You want to quit?!?” Andrea jumped in his lap, alarmed.

“No, I don’t want to quit.” He was offended. “I would never do that, especially with something so important. What I mean to say is that I feel unprepared.”

“No parent is prepared, Victor.”

“Spare me the clichés, you know what I mean.” He snapped, exasperated. “You know my family, you know how my childhood was.” He hesitated for a second, sharing insecurities wasn’t his thing. But this was his wife. He had to be truthful. “What if I’m just like my father? What if I’m not cut out to be a father? Owen has been through so much already, he deserves good loving parents. What if I can’t be any of those things?”

“Nonsense.” She chuckled. “Of course you are lo-”

“You didn’t like me when we first met.” He interrupted her, defying her. “Not for a long time.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“You had all those nicknames for me.” He frowned at her. “King of Highhorseland. You called me a bully.”

"But now I know better. I know who you truly are, and I know I was mistaken."

“You are kind, you see the best in me.” He caressed her curls. “I have to admit sometimes I question if I really do have all those qualities you see in me.”

“Victor…”

“I’m not good at expressing feelings in a way most people understand. I can also be cold and dismissive. Most people find me unpleasant to be with. Do you think those are traits a good parent has? What if I can’t be loving and caring in the way Owen needs? All I know how to do is to organize and buy him things. Just like my father did.”

“Ok, let me just set something straight.” Andrea turned to him in all seriousness. “You are one of, if not the, most caring person I have ever met. You are upset and still all you could be concerned about a few moments ago was that I was getting cold, and here I am in your arms now.”

Victor’s gaze turned to the floor again. Again, she was seeing the best in him, ignoring all the blatant flaws he had. She held his face, making him look her in the eyes.

"You are nothing like your father. You will be an excellent father to Owen and you will be able to understand his needs even more than I will because you had those very same needs. You'll be able to relate in ways I can't possibly ." She came closer, her nose almost touching his. "Do you know why I also think you'll be extremely caring? Because parents that don't give a crap don't waste time late at night wondering if they will be good parents."

Victor lifted a hand to her face. That light she had in her eyes, that beautiful light that warmed him, that could dissolve any ice wall in a heartbeat, he wished he had it. That light could do miracles.

She got out of his lap, sitting close to the headboard.

“Come, lean on me.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this.” He instantly refuted.

“Victor Lee, will you let me be a good wife and take care of my husband?” She pretended to scold him. “Come.”

“I’m too heavy, I will probably crush you.” Despite his protest, he obediently entered the comfort of her arms, his head leaning on her chest, but still worried. “Let me know if you have trouble breathing.”

“You are not as big as you think.” She teased, earning from him a chuckle.

He had to admit, being in her arms and listening to her heartbeat was amazingly comforting. Her fingers ran through his hair, calming and nurturing, and for a moment he forgot his anxiety, and just watched the sun start to rise through the window. When his mind was still, he finally listened to his heart. The love he felt for his family would make up for any lack of experience he would have. This was him treading uncharted territory, like so many times before in his life, but this time he wasn’t alone. Along with his heart was another heartbeat, sweet and steady, the one he was hearing now.

“Thank you.” He whispered shyly, expecting a teasing remark .

None came. When he looked up, he saw the love of his life sleeping soundly, her fingers still threaded in his hair. Victor could almost laugh at the sight. He should've known she would fall asleep.

Slowly and carefully so as not to wake her up, he gathered her in his arms and cradled her to bed. It was indeed pleasant to be taken care of, but he liked it so much better this way, protecting her.

Author’s note: If you liked it, don’t forget to share your thoughts with me! It always brings warmth to my heart! And my ASK box is open! I love talking and hearing from you, beautiful people! Lots of love!

[wherevermyway]

we’re professional. (1/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter one: sophisticated series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. word count: 4,807 also on AO3

originally posted: 17 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Minho brings up an interesting proposal while celebrating the second year of his professional arrangement with Changbin.

“I can’t accept this.” The young, blue-haired man at the opposite side of the table of a middle-aged brunette pushes an open envelope back across the table. “It’s too much. You’ve already given me so much this month, I couldn’t possibly accept anymore.”

“Changbin,” the brunette smirks, bringing the crystal glass of wine up to his mouth. “Please, don’t insult me. I’m not offering this just off the cuff. Besides, it’s not just cash that’s in there.”

The bluenette frowns, bringing his gin and tonic to his mouth, taking a careful, prescribed sip as he watches the older man cautiously. He lets the gin burn its way down his throat before he sighs. “It’s sex, then. That’s what you want, Minho?”

“No.” Minho’s expression quickly turns serious and slightly sour. “Not at all. I told you when we first started this arrangement that this wouldn’t turn sexual.”

“Right.” Changbin cocks his eyebrows up in response, his tone somewhat sarcastic. He brings the glass up again, tilting it and his head backwards, letting the ice slink down and hit him in the nose as he finishes off his drink. He sets the glass down on to the table, ice settling with a soft clink, before he rolls his eyes up and frowns. “What’s all this for, then?” The young man rolls his wrist around, bringing his chin down to his right hand. “You’ve really gone all out for this date.”

Minho softly smiles, then mimics Changbin, mirroring him in the way that he places his head in his left palm. “It’s been two years, officially.” He makes eye contact with a server somewhere off in the distance, and nods upward.

“Two years, eh?” Changbin tuts. “Surprising that neither of us have gotten sick of each other, nor found other people to spend time with.” He takes in a quick breath, then flashes his teeth with a lazy smirk. “Sure you’re not getting serious with me yet?”

The older man opens his mouth to speak, but quickly recedes his statement as a lanky waiter confidently struts over to the table. “Hyunjin, could you please bring me the bottle of Clos D’Ambonnay I have in the back?”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the blond waiter nods his head once with a polite smile before he makes his way back to whence he came.

Changbin squinted, knitting his brows together as he shook his head once. “You own this restaurant, too, don’t you?”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t necessarily say own it, no.” Minho hums, bringing his index finger in between his teeth as he ponders. “It’s a partnership with an old colleague of mine, Chan; you met him at the Vivace Vancouver exhibit over the spring. He had that dreadful red hair, the one where you said he looked like he got electrocuted and then spray painted by an angry ex-lover.”

The younger man’s eyes go wide as he tries to hold back his laughter. “Oh my god,” he sighs, “I remember that. How do you forget something so audacious, is that even possible?” He regains his composure and rests upright against the back of the chair. “In my defence, though, I was two glasses of Chianti in when I said that. Please tell me that his hair isn’t that horrible shade anymore. It was so bad.”

Minho smiles widely and softly shakes his head. “No, no, god, no. I met with him the day after and told him that he needed to go back to see my stylist immediately and never go back to the hellspawn that butchered his hair.”

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr. Lee,” the lanky waiter from before returned, presenting a black bottle before he placed it on top of the table. “As requested.” He placed well-crafted champagne flutes in front of both Minho and Changbin.

“Hyunjin,” Minho tutted as the waiter grabbed the bottle, “I’ve told you several times that just ‘Minho’ is fine.”

The blond waiter half-smiled as he wrapped a hand towel around the cork, deftly wiggling it off with a muffled pop. “And I will tell you each time,” he poured some of the champagne into Changbin’s glass first, “you will always be Mr. Lee when I’m at work.”

“You’re too stiff,” the brunette gently pushed his glass towards the blond as he set Changbin’s glass down. “I know that Chan — sorry, Mr. Bang — is strict with all of you, to maintain a pristine image,” Hyunjin picks up Minho’s glass and bites his lip as if he’s holding back commentary, “but you’re still in your prime. Bend the rules a little while you can get away with it.”

Changbin watches the way Minho’s eyes flutter around from the glass to Hyunjin, catching himself getting caught up in the way the light sparkles against his brown eyes, the way his eyelashes paint shadows on his irises. He doesn’t mean for every detail to be etched into his memory, but there was always something about remembering the details of Minho’s soft face that warmed him. If it were any other world, any other person, perhaps he would be catching feelings.

This arrangement, however, was strictly professional. There was no room for feelings.

Hyunjin sets the bottle back down onto the table. “Sure thing, Minho,” he sarcastically scoffs as he wiggles his shoulders in some sort of strange dance of mockery. “Would you like an ice bucket to keep this chilled?”

Minho shrugs, seemingly indifferent, but his expression turns a bit more serious. “I suppose. Don’t worry about us, though. Tend to the other customers first — we’ll be here for a while longer. A bit of champagne slowly warming won’t be the end of the world.”

“You got it, Mr. Lee,” Hyunjin says, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead in some sort of joking salute before he spins on his heel and walks off to another table.

Minho grabs his champagne flute and flashes his teeth at Changbin. “Sorry about that, love, I’ve just gotta give the staff here trouble every now and again.”

Changbin blushes as he picks up his champagne flute, bringing it close to Minho’s. “Don’t apologize.” He tries to restrain his embarrassment, still mentally replaying the way that Minho called him ‘love’, desperately trying to get the sound to imprint upon his memory. “Anyway,” he lifts his head from his palm and stares directly into the brunette’s eyes. “Two years? I can’t believe it’s been this long since I met you.”

“Your ‘arranged: in black’ series captured me, Changbin, what can I say?” The older man tilts his head to the side, tugging his lips into a smile. “I still think about it every day.”

“It’s hard to avoid thinking about it when all four pieces are hanging behind your bed, wouldn’t you say?”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Minho bites his bottom lip as he avoids laughing. “But, wow, two years. Two very eventful years. To think, you were a scraggly sophomore two years ago when I met you. You really kind of fit the ‘starving artist’ stereotype back then, hmm?”

Changbin’s eyes subconsciously darted down to the maroon tablecloth. He avoided thinking about his life before he met Minho, since it wasn’t something he was overly fond of. Sleeping for a couple of hours a night after a late dishwashing shift at the restaurant, waking up before dawn to run to his part-time barista job, then somehow getting to class just in time to nearly doze off mid-project sketch, all to repeat it again the next day. The chronic sleep deprivation painted him in an ashy grey, and he perpetually smelled of instant ramen and coffee.

No. That was in the past.

He shuddered at the thought of his past life. It was stressful, and he was thankful that Minho came along and offered him some kindness. Most art students either came from wealthy families, or lived in the same shoes that Changbin did. The ones that weren’t from wealthy lineage would probably stay under the poverty line for the rest of their lives, but at least they would be happy creating things that came from the depths of their soul.

For some, it was worth the sacrifice. He knew what he was getting into when he was accepted into the visual arts programme at the University of British Columbia, and he was prepared for the pain and agony it would cause him for the small chance he could make it big while doing something he loved.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s soft voice pulled Changbin from his memory. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded his head a couple of times, almost as if he was willing himself to be calm. “Sorry, I just kinda got distracted. Thought about when we first met and kinda got transported back in time.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it definitely was far from the truth.

The older man softly smiled and nudged his champagne flute forward. “Well, here’s to two years of whatever the hell this is. Here’s to however long we have left and to wherever we may go next.”

Changbin smiled, turning his chin slightly inward as he tapped his flute against Minho’s. “I like that. To whatever the hell is next.”

“‘Whatever the hell is next’,” Minho smiled as he brought the flute up to his lips. “That’s a good one.”

They didn’t get to the bottom of the bottle of champagne until about a half-hour past closing. It had been two years of the same company every Tuesday and Thursday night, and usually most Fridays and Saturdays, yet they still found new things to talk about each time they met. “You’re still so foolishly young and in university,” Minho would scold Changbin over the phone, “so go out and get hammered at a stupid house party and I’ll come by tomorrow and help nurse you out of your hangover.” Minho was really a sweetheart, even if he didn’t want to date and was, to quote Minho himself, ‘emotionally unavailable’.

It had been two years, and Changbin still didn’t fully understand why people were so pressed on calling Minho heartless.

“And so,” Changbin took a sip of water from his glass, setting it down a bit roughly, some of the water sloshing around and splashing on to the table, “I had to sketch a live model, right? Turns out Seungmin makes a horrible model at two in the morning, but we thought the idea was brilliant.”

Minho loudly cackles, throwing his head back and clapping his hands once in front of his face. “You had just gotten done downing several shots at the bar. What made either of you think that sketching in charcoal was a good idea?”

The younger man folds over, resting his head in his palms as he tries not to collapse on to the floor in laughter. “The project was due on Monday! And, hey, we got it done, and I somehow got a decent grade in the end.”

“Ah,” Minho leans back into his chair as he looks up to the wall to his left, smiling as he wipes a tear from his eye. “I’d love to scold you for that, but the truth is, I can’t. I did the same things in uni ten years ago.”

Changbin rests his chin against the back of his hand, languidly smiling as he watches Minho get lost in memories past. These moments that they shared, where they were just so plainly human — not a famous artist, not a struggling art student, but simply Minho and Changbin — these were why Changbin never sought out another partner. It was unconventional to most people, especially those his age, to have such a hands-off relationship, but it just worked for them. Sometimes, the things that came off the most discordant could somehow still find a way to harmonize, and that was what they did.

“You know, you didn’t totally open the envelope,” Minho points at the middle of the table with an open hand, as if he were guiding Changbin back to the thick paper.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders and bashfully looked away for a moment before staring Minho down. “Come on, Min,” he lowers his voice a bit, “I don’t need to know how much you’re giving me, at least not now.”

Minho dismissively waves his hand before nudging the envelope back to Changbin. “It’s not just money, love, I promise. Nothing too domestic, either. Just,” he pauses, bringing a finger to his chin as he looks up at the ceiling, “I suppose it’s partially a token of my appreciation? Yeah, that sounds right. A way to tell you I’m thankful you’ve stuck around for so long, even with all of the weird shit we’ve gone through. There’s more to it than that, but that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“I dunno, you’re making this feel like a real relationship,” the bluenette sarcastically mumbles a bit as he gingerly picks up the envelope, squinting a bit at Minho. He opens it, then pulls out a few plastic-like polymer bills: some green, some red. His expression quickly shifts to confusion when he comes across papery stationary, the textural difference causing a nerve to spark up in his arm. Stationary. A letter? He pulls the light grey paper out of the envelope, eyeing Minho as he opens it. “Really? Getting awfully boyfriend-like on me, Min.”

“Oh, come on, just read it,” the older man tuts, rifling through the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I promise, it’s not as sappy as it looks.”

Changbin plucks his glasses from the table, wiggling the temples to fit just behind his ears, then clears his throat. He tries to swallow down the smirk on his face as he mocks Minho’s intonation and speech. “My loveliest Changbin,” a laugh creeps up from his stomach as he reads on. “Every single day, I wake up and I see your ‘arranged: in black’ pieces, intricately framed behind my bed, and I’m taken aback by the fact that your mind knows no bounds when it comes to expressing creativity.” The younger man peers over the sheet again, studying the somewhat bored, slightly flustered expression on the elder’s face.

“So I had a couple of glasses of wine while writing, I got a bit sentimental.” Minho flutters his lips as he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist. “At least it’s not as bad as last year’s letter.”

Changbin smiled, but quickly brought the paper in front of his face to hide the subtle reddish tint growing on his face. “I usually don’t like keeping my own work, as you know,” he continued to read off of the letter, still avoiding eye contact with Minho, “but the graphite portrait of you, asleep on my bed from your last bout of finals — it holds a special spot in my heart. I love seeing it every time I enter my closet. It’s like there are little reminders of you scattered across my apartment, and across my heart.”

Oh.

There was a warmth that blossomed and grew in Changbin’s abdomen. The warmth reminded him of ivy hanging off of old buildings, quickly encompassing and embracing everything within its reach. It was a strange sensation, and it gave him pause before he continued reading the note.

Perhaps this was more than sentimental.

Perhaps Changbin was reading too far into things again.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice pulled the bluenette from the cavern of thoughts he had recessed himself into. “Where did you go?” His tone was firm, distracting Changbin from the fact that Minho had interlaced his fingers between the younger man’s left hand.

This was something they always did. Minho was always touchy-feely, even if it didn’t progress past shirtless embraces as they slept next to each other, or walking hand-in-hand. The way the pads of Minho’s fingertips softly caressed the back of his hand, though, made things seem different. Special.

“Your closet.” Realizing he had spent too much time losing himself in between the grooves of Minho’s fingerprints, Changbin sputtered out some words to barely form a coherent thought. “You reminded me that I still have one of your Burberry hoodies lost somewhere in my apartment.”

Minho furrowed his brows for a moment, trying not to get caught up on how distant Changbin’s response was. “The oversized black one? You know I don’t mind if you keep it, Bin.”

“It was nearly a thousand dollars, Minho.”

The older man scoffs and rolls his eyes a bit, bringing his left hand up to the table, a small brown box of sorts covered up by his palm. “Well,” the brunette squeezed Changbin’s hand a bit, causing them to make eye contact, “when you’re done reading that letter, I’ll be sure to avoid telling you how much your ‘anniversary’ gift is.” Minho winked as he ended his sentence, right when Changbin was thinking about saying something in protest.

“Minho,” Changbin whines, drooping his shoulders a bit as he frowns.

“Changbin,” Minho teases a bit as he mockingly whines in response. “Trust me, it’s not just me spending money aimlessly. It’ll tie into the idea I have in that letter. You know, really make some of those tabloids make us look nice and get off our backs for a while.”

The younger man bit his tongue and scanned his eyes down the letter, trying to find the last spot he had read over. Across my apartment , reading the words caused his hands to sweat, across my heart, made his stomach clench. Domestic and soft, exactly what they were, but also, somehow exactly what they were not. He continued reading off the letter, but his memories started creeping up during the empty gaps between sentences.

There was the callous bite to Minho’s tone during their first real meet-up. “Our arrangement is for mutual gains: you’ll be able to live comfortably, and I’ll get the press off of my back. You won’t be a starving artist, and I’ll no longer be ‘Minho, the Heartless’. We’re professional boyfriends: all of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings.” His bony hands felt cold, like ice, when they shook hands to confirm their arrangement. Changbin had felt in over his head then, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

In contrast, there was the night that Changbin had recently stayed over at the end of October. They had gotten back shortly after one in the morning after celebrating Minho’s thirty-first birthday with a handful of his friends and several well-renowned professional artists and gallery owners. Sure, Changbin had been Minho’s quote-unquote “boyfriend” for the night, but it benefitted his art career a bit, just to branch out and connect. None of that had mattered, though, because the best part was when they had gotten half-undressed and passed out on Minho’s duvet together, giggling about how some of the attendees thought ‘artist’s birthday’ meant ‘licence to dress as insanely as humanly possible’. The one-on-one time was always what Changbin looked forward to the most: that soft, personal connection with another person on such a raw, human level.

That was the weekend he borrowed Minho’s black, oversized Burberry sweater to wear home. Changbin lied earlier. He knew exactly where it was: curled up next to his wall in his bed. The soft scent of bergamot and mandarin of the Dior Sauvage that Minho wore on his wrists and in the divots of his clavicles had slowly started to fade into hints of vanilla and sandalwood. While he knew that his arrangement with Minho wouldn’t last forever, he wanted to live in the moments that made him feel like he was in a true, caring relationship. He had a friend in Minho, he truly did. It would probably hurt like hell when they eventually decided to move on from their agreement.

We're professional. Changbin would remind himself every night as he curled up into Minho’s sweater, remembering the way Minho’s arms felt warm on his back and on his shoulders, how soft his manicured fingers were when they fit perfectly in between Changbin’s. We are not real boyfriends. The sweater would catch his inevitable tears as he lost himself in the confusing haze they had painted themselves under. Business dynamic. This was the price he would pay to get into the elusive elitist art world. Strictly professional.

Even if it cost him his sanity.

“Did I just read that correctly?” Changbin’s voice was alarmed, and he frantically re-read the words on the paper before darting his eyes around nervously. Minho smirked as Changbin leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a just-audible whisper. “You want to do what to get the press’ attention?”

Minho grabbed the ashy brown jewellery box from the table, letting go of Changbin’s left hand. He opened the box and his expression flattened. “Exactly what the paper says, Bin.” Inside the desaturated box sat a contrastingly bright, rose gold band.

It was a ring embedded with actual fucking diamonds.

To anyone else, this would be serious. ‘Call your parents, scream at your best friend, even at two in the morning’ levels of seriousness. However, Changbin and Minho were not ‘anyone else’. They were in their own strange, unique bubble where the rules of modern society did not apply to them.

“How about we graduate from professional boyfriends to professional fiancés?”

Like most Sunday mornings nowadays, Changbin woke up to the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Minho may have travelled to fancy galleries across the world and tried extravagant blends of coffee during his tenure, but he would always fall back on Starbucks’ blonde roast for his morning routines. “Why bother going through all of the effort of getting my hands on something overly fancy from Europe? I have yet to be let down by this one, and it’s been over ten years since I started drinking it. Why stop now?”

The logic made sense, really, and the coffee wasn’t bad.

“The Vancouver Sun’s already got an article out,” Minho excitedly muttered under his breath, setting a ceramic mug down on the nightstand closest to Changbin. He stared at his phone as he made his way back around the bed, causing the mattress to sink as he sat down. “So many people are speculating, like it even matters. If they had really been following me these past two years, they’d know better.”

It was too early for this. Minho was always business as soon as he woke up: endearing in theory, terribly annoying in practice.

Changbin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he rolled onto his back, sleepily glaring up at Minho. “You’re loud.”

“And you’re hungover,” the brunette quipped, not looking away from his phone as he smiled at himself. “Drink your water and your coffee, love, you’ll feel better.”

“Whatever,” Changbin grumbled under his breath as he sat up, reaching over to the nightstand. There was a sheen on his left hand that caused him to momentarily lose his breath. Shit. He drew his hand into his face to stare at the ring he had conveniently forgotten about overnight. It felt like nothing before he noticed it, but now that he was staring at it, it felt like the ring was going to cut off the circulation to his finger. It felt like a boa constrictor was tightening around him, making it hard to breathe.

Changbin had every intention to pull himself away from the suffocation of the ring. Instead, he found himself trying to count each small diamond wedged between the two layers of rose gold. A sudden dip right behind him and an arm around his waist literally pulled him from his thoughts. “Min!”

“It’s pretty,” Minho gently grabbed Changbin’s hand, tucking his chin into the younger man’s shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d like rose gold, but I know you hate gold, and silver’s too simple for you. For a fake engagement ring, seems pretty convincing, hmm?”

As much as he doesn’t want to, Changbin sinks into Minho’s embrace. Blame it on the fatigue, he figured, but found himself surprised that the older man didn’t pull away. For the shortest of moments, it almost feels like they’re meant to fit together like this. “It’s expensive,” the brunette whispers, “to no one’s surprise, so please don’t lose it.”

The younger man squints in disapproval. “How much was it?”

“It’s impolite to ask a fiancé something like that, you know,” Minho huffs a bit dramatically as he feigns irritation.

Changbin, however, seems plenty irritated for the both of them. He rolls around, mere centimetres away from Minho’s face as he frowns up at the older man. “It’s a good thing this is all fake, then, right? How much was it?”

“Bin,” the brunette’s expression falters as he cocks his head to the side. “It’s not important, I don’t understand why you’re so—”

Changbin desperately wants to stay this close to Minho, to drown in his embrace and the warmth of his touch. Professional. Fake boyfriends, fake fiancés. “It’s just for show, I know. Since it’s fake, though, you shouldn’t have a problem telling me, right?” There’s a layer of hurt in his voice that he knows he can’t hide. He dips his chin into his chest and closes his eyes, desperate to make this all just stop and go away. Something about this, though, just felt too real, too close to an actual relationship.

What the fuck were they doing? All of this had to cross some sort of unspoken relationship rule somewhere, right? The blurred lines between what was real and what was fake in their arrangement was causing Changbin's head to spin.

Minho doesn’t seem sure about how to handle the situation. The moments pass by in silence until the older man takes in a deep breath, then he wiggles his index finger under Changbin’s chin, tilting his face upwards. “Hey,” he quietly demands, “look at me, Bin.”

So, the bluenette does as requested. He stares into Minho’s eyes and instantly softens.

“If it bothers you that much, I can go out and get something simpler.” Minho’s voice quivers a bit, almost like he feels how uncomfortable Changbin is. “I just… I don’t know what I was thinking when I went out and I got this one. I looked around with the agent for over an hour, and then that one just caught my eye, just as things were looking hopeless.”

Suddenly, Changbin’s hand is in Minho’s again, and the older man stares at the band with purpose, rotating the younger man’s hand around freely. “I guess I put in a bit too much of a personal flair on this. I really prioritized what I figured you’d like before the importance of keeping up the façade that this is all fake.”

They both stare at the ring for a moment, then look at one another. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed as they stared at each other with shared panic, concern, worry. There was an unfamiliar emotion that lingered at the back of their gaze, but it was hard to place. Changbin hadn’t felt anything like this before. He was equal parts nervous, nauseated, and lost.

If this were like the romantic comedies that Changbin and Seungmin would watch while hungover, this would be the part where Minho would roll on top of him, say something like “fuck the rules, I just want you”. They would cry and kiss and roll around the sheets together. There would be a swell of uplifting orchestral music in the background, indicating that fate had given its blessing on the couple.

This wasn’t a movie, though. This was fucking reality, and there was nothing but tension in the air and a yearning in the bottom of Changbin’s stomach. Their situation was complex and convoluted and it was going to end in heartbreak for him, and only him. Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

Our arrangement is for mutual gains. Minho’s voice was so loud.

We’re professional boyfriends. It was sour.

All of the benefits, none of the downsides, like feelings. It hurt as it echoed in Changbin’s head, but Minho’s voice was all he wanted to hear.

Feelings.

Feelings?

That’s when it hit Changbin: he was falling for Minho — Minho, the (supposedly, yet to be proven) Heartless — and he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how stupid he knew it was. Perhaps the most terrifying part of this, though, wasn’t the fact that Minho didn’t feel the same way.

No, the most terrifying thing was that Changbin couldn’t tell if Minho was actually interested in him or not. Minho always felt strongly one way or another. For them to sit here, struck dumb in silence, was unnerving. The silence meant uncertainty.

It meant possibility.

[countless-dreamsss]

Quarantined with Him.

Summary: With COVID-19 hitting all parts of the country, Team Flash has decided that it’s safest that they stick together, and live 

Warnings: Slight profanity.

Primary pairs: WestAllen, Harrisco, Jecile

Canon/Head: Headcanon

Insight: So initially this was meant to be a fanfic written by a prompt that @catvampcrazines really wanted to see, which was Harrisco being sleep deprived and goofy AF. Tumblr, being the shitshow that it is won't even let me post the entire first part that I have now, so this is going to have a lot more parts than I intended it to. I do apologize for taking so long with writing this, but when covid-19 hit, it gave me the perfect timing and the perfect excuse to get all of Team Flash together to experience Harrisco's weirdness. Anyways, enjoy!

     The members of Team Flash were dispersed throughout the Cortex at S.T.A.R Labs when Joe had entered the room. Iris and Cisco sat at the monitors while Harry hovered behind them, clicking on his pen anxiously as they watched Barry run through the streets of Central City. Caitlin sat at the desk just outside of the medical bay, going over some new material put put by a few of her friends from medical school.      “Turn on the news,” Joe said, worry written all over his face. Everyone turned their attention towards the new presence, puzzled at his expression.       “Dad, is something wrong?” Iris asked, turning her chair in his direction.      “You guys haven’t heard?” Joe asked, his eyes looked to each person. “Central City is closing off all borders because of this whole virus thing.”      “Again with this virus?” Harry groaned. He had been back on Earth-1 since December, when the first case was made public. Every time he heard the name of the virus it always seemed like bad news.     “Got it,” Cisco called out. He hit a button on his keyboard, and just like that live-footage from Central City News was projected onto the main monitor.     “Fast breaking developments in the Coronavirus emergency in the U.S. and around the world. The number of cases soaring just today. More than 700 thousand nation-wide. To decrease the risk of infection, Mayor Van Buren has just announced that Central City is now officially under lockdown. Starting today, no one is allowed to leave or enter the city…”     “Well, it seems like your Earth is no longer safe to stay on,” Harry crossed his arms against his chest. “I guess I should be heading home soon.”     Cisco immediately looked up to Harry. “Do you have to make comments like that?” Though his tone was rather crabby, his eyes screamed ‘don’t leave me’.     Harry’s icy orbs met Cisco’s gaze. The older male clicked his tongue, knowing he had struck worry into the other. “Oh, come on now,” he placed a hand on the meta’s shoulder, his thumb gently tracing the seam of Cisco's sleeve.      "You always do this," Cisco moved his shoulder away from Harry's hand.     "I—"     “Has Earth-2 seen anything like this?” Caitlin intervened in the small quarrel between the couple.      Harry shook his head, “No, and again, my Earth is very much ahead of yours. I’m sure if anything like this was to even appear on my Earth, it would’ve been taken care of like,” he snapped his fingers, purposely right next to Cisco’s ear just to have his eyes on him again.      “Either way,” Joe started, “This isn’t looking good at all. Are you guys sure it’s safe to have Barry still running out there?” he asked.     “I could always make him a respirator to go with his suit,” Cisco said.     “...along with temporarily closing down non-essential businesses, Mayor Buren has also announced a curfew at 9’oclock p.m. for all citizens of Central City. Yes, Flash, this includes you.”     “Problem solved,” Iris looked back to Joe.      “Criminals  don’t care about curfews,” Joe replied. “I’m just trying to make sure you guys stay safe,” he looked to everyone in the room. “Last thing we need is any one of us getting this thing.”      “We’ll be fine, Dad,” Iris grabbed Joe’s hand, squeezing it gently as if she could transfer all of his negative feelings to her. “I’ll talk to Barry once he comes back, and then we can all decide what happens then.”     “If worst comes to worst, we just all stay here.” Caitlin pointed out. “We’re here everyday as it is.”     “Yeah,” Iris agreed. “I can always do my work in the lounge  while Team Flash is doing its thing.”     “That could actually work,” Cisco said, gliding his tongue over his lips after taking a sip of his coffee. “We still have a few empty rooms that we could just set up some beds in,”     “I’m the one that actually lives here, do I get a say in this?” Harry asked.     “No.” Everyone responded.     Harry rolled his eyes at their response. “Fine, but don’t go touching my rum,” he looked to Caitlin.     “What? I never—” “Not you, I’m talking about Frost. Last time I was here, she drank all my whiskey without telling me,” he said.     “Was it the honey flavored one?” Cisco asked.     “Yes,” Harry hissed.      “Ooh,” Cisco sucked his teeth. “Bad call, Frosty,” he said to Caitlin.     “Guys—” Barry interrupted through the comms, “are you guys really discussing staying at S.T.A.R. Labs right after Iris said you guys would wait for me to come back?”     “Decision has been made, Barry. Suck it up,” Cisco called out.     “Since when?” Harry said, looking down at the younger male.     “Just now. I did it,” Cisco affirmed “What? You have something to say?” Cisco asked, ready to retaliate any nonsense that could possibly come out of Harry's mouth.      “Whatever the hell y’all do, just let me know, okay?” Joe said.“I’m gonna go make some calls, see if I can get a hold of Cecile. See you later, baby,” Joe leaned down, giving Iris a kiss on the cheek. “Stay safe,” he said to the rest, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder before exiting.      Taking it upon himself to decide that Team Flash would be staying at S.T.A.R Labs, Cisco and Iris had also taken the time and thought of how things would run during the entire situation. He pulled over the drawing board and assigned everyone a certain task to do during the days of the week.      “...and because we can’t live off of just coffee and candy, this coming Saturday, Barry and I will go out for a grocery run,” he said looking at all of them.      “Sounds like a plan,” Barry nodded before leaning his head down and resting his chin on his wife’s shoulder.     “What about me?” Harry asked, his arms held snug against his torso. “I’m not assigned anything.”     “You can’t even leave the building, Harry. What makes you think I’d put you up here?” Cisco asked, playing with the marker cap.      “Well, I live here,” Harry shrugged. “Something is better than nothing.”     “Fine, fine,” Cisco turned back to the board and wrote ‘mi cama.��     Harry’s cheeks burned with a shade of red once reading his task. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, looking to the ground to hide his smirk.      “Oh God, Cisco,” Iris laughed when she read the addition. “Take that down.” “Fine, but I give you props for being the only one to read it,” he chuckled, erasing what he had just written down and changing Harry’s duty to ‘trash.’ “There, you’re on trash duty.”      Barry laughed, “Doodie.”     “You gave me trash?” Harry asked, approaching the board. “You’re really giving me trash?”     “Are you 12?” Cisco asked Barry, rolling his eyes before he turned to Harry. “You said give to you something, so I gave you something that you can actually do. You’re doing trash.”     “You’re trash.” Harry spat, looking down at him.     “No, you’re trash.” Cisco tapped the tip of the marker against Harry’s chest with each word spoken.     “You wish I was trash,” Harry snatched the marker from Cisco’s hand.     “Har—”     “Anyways,” Caitlin interrupted, “How about we go get something cooked up right now?”     “Yes please,” Barry said, “I’m starving,” he grabbed Iris’ hand then started to pull her towards the exit.      “What should we make?” Cisco asked.     “You guys decide,” Iris said, “Barry and I are gonna go set up our room.”     “Liars,” Harry called out as they walked out.     “I could really go for some of your lasagna right now, Cisco,” Caitlin said.     “You’ve made her lasagna?” Harry asked. “After all the times I’ve asked you to co—”     “Settle down, long legs” Cisco patted Harry's chest. “You guys want to help me make it?” he asked.      Caitlin shook her head as she too walked towards the exit, “I’m going to work on my room as well,” she told them, “make it a little more snug,” then disappeared into the hallway.     “What about you?” Cisco looked at Harry.     “Do you want me to?” Harry asked.      Cisco gestured for the other to tag along. “Come on,”

    Surprisingly, Harry had completed everything requested of him without any opposition. When given the chance, he would use that time to get Cisco’s attention and ask him if he was doing whatever he was told to correctly, correctly meaning Cisco’s definition of correctly.      The elder grabbed a half cut onion to mince when his sight became fixated on Cisco. Harry’s thumb and forefinger wrapped around the blade while he made parallel cuts through the vegetable, moving the knife downward and backward motion as his free hand held the onion in place. Spell-bound by a simple glance at the younger, who had no idea he was being watched, Harry had forgotten to return his attention back to the task in front of him. The meta took hold of his soft curls and waves, tying them back into a relatively messy bun. Once his hair was tied back, Harry saw Cisco advance towards him.     “Woah,” Cisco grabbed Harry’s wrist in haste, his grip significantly strong. “What are you doing?” Fear filled his eyes as they gazed at Harry’s hand, the blade had just barely broken through his skin.      “I—” Harry was brought back to reality. How was Harry supposed to tell Cisco that his attention was on him the entire time? “I know what I’m doing,” Harry lied with a scoff.     “Do you?” Cisco snatched the knife out of his hands. “You could’ve hurt yourself,” he placed the knife down, and seized the hand that was almost assaulted, examining the now very light cut on Harry’s knuckles. A rather satisfying sensation overcame Harry when feeling Cisco’s soft, warm touch.     “I’m fine, Cisco,” Harry responded. He tore his hand from Cisco’s hold. “I’m fine.”      “Are you?” his eyes studied Harry’s face, searching for signs to disprove Harry’s statement before quickly gazing around to make sure they were alone.     “Yes,” he nodded, holding Cisco’s hand to his chest. “I’m fine. Promise.” Harry assured him.      Still worried, Cisco quickly decided to swap tasks. “I’ll finish up here,” he grabbed the knife, “can you work on the ricotta cheese mix?”      “Cisco, I said I’m fine.”     “And I said that I’ll finish up here.”     “Fine,” he exhaled an agitated sigh. He knew that even if he protested against Cisco, he would simply end up doing what was asked of him anyways.      

 Once the food was prepared, Caitlin and Iris had set up the coffee table as Barry and Cisco made the drinks. Harry, now being treated as safety priority number one by his beloved partner, sat impatiently upon the round couch while being accompanied by Joe, Cecile, and Baby Jenna, who was sitting in the S.T.A.R Labs baby-chair made by Cisco.      Cisco finally pulled out the steaming dish of saucy red noodles out of the oven. A warm heat kissing his cheek while the heavenly fragrance of juicy seasoned tomatoes combined with spicy ground meat fill the air.     “That smells fantastic,” Barry eyed the dish. He could feel his mouth begin to water.     “I’m telling you, man, no one knows how to make lasagna better than yours truly,” Cisco smiled.     “You guys were going to start without me?” A male voice called out. Ralph had been absent at S.T.A.R Labs throughout the entire day, but he wasn’t going to miss his first Team Flash sleepover.      “Of course not,” Caitlin smiled, holding up his plate. Ralph gave her a smile, throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he made his way through the room.     “Oh my God, the baby,” Ralph cooed as he approached Jenna.      “Ah—” Cecile picked up her daughter before Ralph could touch her.     “What?” Ralph’s smile turned into a pout as he looked between the parents. “I just wanted to—”     “Did you not just come from outside?” Joe asked.     “I mean— I j-just,” Ralph stammered, hearing Joe’s fatherly voice coming out.     “Ah, wash your hands first.” Cecile said.      Ralph gave a disappointing sigh, “I’m not infected.”      “Yes, but she’s still very young,” Caitlin commented. “There’s nothing wrong about staying cautious,” she said. Ralph pouted as he held his hands up then stretched them over to the sink. He washed halfway up his arms thoroughly, scrubbing his skin down with soap for a good 20 seconds. He dried his arms then returned his arms to their normal length.      “May I?” Ralph’s arms eager to hold Jenna.      Cecile nodded, “You may.”  “Finally,” he smiled, taking hold of  the giggling child from its mother’s arms.

    Sighs and moans of pleasure filled the air as each person took a bite from their plates. Cisco’s lips were pulled to a grin, satisfied with the feedback, but Harry was the only one who hadn’t tried it yet. The couple briefly exchanged looks. Harry knew what Cisco was waiting for. He wanted Harry to try it. Harry gave a sly grin as he nudged Cisco gently with his elbow then dove his fork into the layers of delicate pasta. He quickly raised his fork into his mouth, fireworks exploded in his mouth while eating the moist layers. The spices of the sauce complimented the meat perfectly, providing a savory taste rather than a fiery one, and the warmth of the cheese over his tongue just added to the experience. Harry smiled as he took another bite, giving Cisco the answer he was looking for.      “This,” Joe pointed to his plate, “is really freaking good. My compliments to the chef.” He winked at Cisco, whose body was filling up with content and joy. He was glad he was able to provide something other than just suits and tech.     “It wasn’t just me,” Cisco’s eyes scanned everyone. “Harry helped too.     “I did,” The older male nodded, “but it was your recipe, making you responsible for this.”     “I told y’all,” Cisco chuckled. “No one makes lasagna better than Papi Ramon.”      Laughter filled the room.     “Papi?” Harry chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin.     “Just let me have it, okay? Just this once.” Cisco requested.      “Anyways,” Cecile spoke, “so when was somebody going to tell me about you two?” She pointed her fork back and forth between Cisco and Harry, which led to their ears and cheeks burning to a shade of red and Harry slightly choking on his food. “How’d it start?”     “Uhm—” Cisco handed Harry his drink and patted his back.     “If you don’t tell them, I will,” Iris said, taking a sip of her wine.      “It’s cute,” Caitlin said softly.     “It is,” Ralph nodded before feeding Baby Jenna a spoonful of lightly salted carrots.      “Dish it!” Cecile incited.      Harry placed his plate down. He kept his eyes down at his hands, trying to avoid Cecile’s gaze. “I mean I don’t really think there’s much to—”     “Uh-uh-uh,” Cecile shook her head. “I want to know. I want to know everything up until the first kiss,” she demanded. The red shade on Harry’s cheeks grew darker. Hearing this, everyone leaned forward so they wouldn’t miss a second of it.     “Well,” Cisco twirled his fork into his lasagna.     “There’s not much to tell,” Harry cleared his throat.      “It was a little after saving Jesse that we started talking,” Cisco looked at Harry, who was nodding along as he spoke.       “After Jesse and I had left the first time, Ramon and I kept in touch,” Harry took a sip of his drink. “Just to get him to come over, sometimes I would ask him to help me with some experiments.”     “So who asked who?” Joe asked, wiping his lips with a napkin.     “Neither of us,” Harry responded, leaning closer towards Cisco.      “No?” Cecile questioned.     “No,” Harry confirmed.     “It was just one of those things where we just knew,” Cisco lightly shrugged with a soft smile.      “And the kiss?” Cecile asked. The two males glanced down at the white tiles beneath their feet. Harry shook his head. “You tell it,” Cisco said.     “Why me?” Harry questioned.  “You have total recall,” Cisco gave Harry a mocking grin.      “Fuck me,” Harry whispered under his breath before being flicked in the head by Cisco. “What the—”     “Baby,” Cisco pointed to Jenna with his fork. “Watch your language.”      Harry gave the parents an apologetic look then proceeded with what he was going to say. “I’ll tell it,” he cleared his throat. “We were over in Cisco’s workshop. The both of us had stayed really late working on the earmuffs for Jesse and I. Cisco had gone out to go get us some ice cream. I had the butter pecan,” he looked over to Cisco, “and you had some sort of brownie sundae, right?”     Cisco nodded. “It was a brownie fudge sundae with coffee ice cream,”     “The one that comes with the dinosaur shaped brownie?” Barry asked.     “Are you judging my dino brownie?” Cisco asked.     “Damn,” Iris pouted. “Now I want brownies.”     Everyone laughed before Harry continued his anecdote.      “Anyways,” the scientist ran his tongue over his lips, “so Ramon was sitting across from me and I had noticed that there was chocolate fudge on his lip. I told him, and yeah…” Harry trailed off.      “Uh-uh” Iris shook her head. “That’s not a first kiss story.”     “What?” Harry scoffed. “I just—” “You have to describe what happens from Point A to Point B,” Ralph spoke. “Point B being the kiss.” “Fine.” Harry groaned, his face was red as Barry’s suit now.      “Go back to the part with the fudge,” Barry teased.      Harry’s teeth gently took hold of his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words. “Okay, so the fudge,” he chuckled. “I had grabbed a napkin, and held it out for him, but his attention was completely elsewhere,” he turned to Cisco, “I don’t know what the heck you were doing, but I was waving it and everything, and he just never looked up, so I leaned forward and used my thumb to wipe it off. Being, y’know so close,” he used his hand to gesture how close he was to Cisco’s face, “I saw the chance and I took it,” Harry clapped his hands in accomplishment of telling the story without running away. He sipped his drink once more before returning his unfinished plate into his hands.     All the women awed at the stories.     “Now that’s a cute first kiss story,” Cecile smiled before finishing her meal.     “I think that’s the cutest first kiss story here,” Caitlin said looking around, Iris nodded in agreement.     “What?” Barry asked. “You don’t think our first kiss-”     “Barry, you erased that timeline.” Cisco butted in.      The speedster wanted to keep his mouth shut, but still managed to say “I still think ours was the cutest,” he muttered.     “If you say so,” Iris said, patting Barry’s shoulder.

    For the first time in years, S.T.A.R Labs had a peaceful night. There weren’t any metas to chase tonight, no one randomly breaking into S.T.A.R. Labs. It was just chatter and joy. Joe and Cecile had decided to retire for the day, taking Baby Jenna along with them, leaving Harry as the designated meta-babysitter. He leaned back against the couch, his arm placed upon the backrest, which left a cavity to his torso which was soon filled by Cisco's body. He invited the pressure and warmth the younger's body provided. Harry looked at Cisco’s cards then back to the deck when Barry put down his card.     "Uno dare #5" Cisco read aloud then leaned forward to read the dare card, “flip the table...”     “Finally,” a wide grin plastered itself along the speedster’s face. He quickly grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it over.     “Good job, Allen,” Harry said looking at the mess. “Now clean it up,” Barry rolled his eyes, but did as told. His golden lightning zoomed around until everything was put back into place.     “I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Barry stretched.     “Same,” Iris stood up and made her way over to Barry.      "Yeah, I think I'm gonna go too." Caitlin added.     "What? You're all just gonna leave?" Cisco asked.     The three exchanged looks before nodding. "Yeah," they said in unison.     "Add me to that too," Ralph took off his jacket.     "Ope, there's another one." Harry commented before sitting up straight.     "Y'all are no fun." Cisco pouted.     "We'll play tomorrow," Barry said, wrapping his arm around Iris. Cisco held his pout as he watched them exit. Harry tapped the meta's shoulder.      "You coming to bed?" he asked, lifting himself up from the couch.      "I'll be there in a bit," Cisco responded. "I have something I want to work on," he said.      "Oh?" Harry raised a brow. "Mind if I join?"     "I don't mind at all," Cisco smiled. 

[sherlolly-siya]

Magnum P.I. S02xE18-20 spoilers and tidbits

I thought i’ll give a prologue first 😅 Remember i pet project where i was trying to decipher the episode names? yea i didn’t get very far on that.. but i have come to a conclusion, that each title is a convention for what the clients in that episode, and/or our P.I. is going through. Eg. S02xE16 : Farewell To Love

Episode starts with Gladys and Bert who had given up on love but eventually found it in one another. The fact that Gladys narrated this part makes it poetic in a sense that she was the one who had to say bid farewell to Bert.Then TC and Teresa, they found the one that they always loved. The one who made them happier, but TC had to let her go go, he bid farewell to his love, instead of ruining 3 lives.In the beginning of the episode, we see magnum all in for online dating, but after what happened with Dylan, we see him coming to an abrupt conclusion that online dating is just isn’t the thing for him, also adding to the fact, the girl who met through an app (Abby) had just recently broken off with him. So magnum kind of bid a metaphorical farewell to finding love online.

Spoilers for S02x18, S02x19 and S02x20 under the cut if you wish to continue. Warning: My rant got hella long, longer than i planned and there are lots of pics and links below. Thanks @maggiesoa​ and @lizzysfavs​ for providing some food for my thoughts  😊

So.. lets begin with S02x18 : A world of trouble I’m just grouping together the pics that I’ve found so far which seem to be related to episode 18: Perdy and Bobby discussed about having a scene together ignore jay’s comment here, I’m all for #TeamJin and I will riot if they ever kill him. I believe the episode starts with Jin, showing up at Robin’s nest, where he ends up in a situation where he has to change in magnum’s clothes (note the t-shirt magnum is ironing... (Edit: DIDN'T HAPPEN!!?? I MEAN!! This could have been cute.. didn't have to be a total BTS for once!!) Where we get this scene, All i can guess right now is that is a tab in Jin’s had, and he’s being a fair judge for miggy while they prepare for their visa interview, or he could be here with today’s case

Which takes us to to the primary promo for 2x18, where they solve the case at hand. Now my guess is that the case doesnt take up entire 47 minutes, because this promo also exists. What this secondary promo also shows is them at a office(?) guessing visa or may be its a school where the current client works? where magnum/higgy blurts out that they’re marrying and some lady says that they don’t look like a couple. We also see Katsumoto warning Higgy about the consequences of marrying their business partner. (Edit: this did happen and fueled Higgy’s resolve to back out.. nothing wrong there..but as Jin said.. may it be with Magnum or TC, u’re still breaking the law Mrs. I can figure out how pretending with TC is going to get good results? if anything.. it only comes out of nowhere) I’m sensing a connection here again with the title of the episode: A world of trouble:  - The current client, the case was definitely given to them by some one else because they approach the lady coz Higgy says “You’re in trouble, we just want to help you.”, which means she might have refused help at one point. - Literally 2 people in a 2 min worth promo have commented on their wedding, does this not sound like trouble to you?

When magnum is possibly heading out to go to La Mariana, (Edit: DING! DING! DING! This was indeed before the bar scene.. which kinda broke my heart.. but we’ll talk about that in detail later) she tells him that she’s reconsidered her decision that she will be marrying TC instead (which is weird, but for the sake of it, OK). Which also implies that she’s going to have a heart to heart with TC how she had one with Rick before in 2x13. (Edit: Umm.. i would have liked to hear the entire convo here.. but i guess its going to come back a flashback some day?) Magnum than heads to the bar, with Jin where he meets up with his friends and we get this, going by past experiences, this is going to be the last scene where he’s with his friends. Now what leaves me confused is this guy below, the one that magnum rescued and now has a food truck (Rem S1x01, they got him all the way from there now). He’s not listed for 2x18, but the actors caption says 2x18? So is he like the caterer for the wedding? (i thought kamekona was doing that?) or he’s there for entirely other reason?

Now this all leads up to S02x19 :  May The Best One Win Again the title is the synopsis here,

Magnum and Higgins are each hired by a different spouse who are in the middle of a contentious divorce to dig up dirt on the other, and Thomas and Higgins soon find themselves competing over resources. 

But i don’t think them competing again each other is the only thing here, remember this gem from TV guide magazine? - Jay mentions there being an odd jealousy there, and there is something percolating between the duo which magnum doesn’t want to address just yet. I think the competition is not just between Magnum and Higgy, for magnum it is also between him and TC. May be he’ll be still trying to show her that he is the one she should be marrying, even if that’s fake.  - And for the implied element we also have this garage fight, where they’re up against “just one guy, but a very big guy”. This again i don’t think takes forever to solve since, there’s an upcoming wedding everyone has to attend, we’ve all seen the famous pics, but this:

Him again!! And looks like he is in fact catering the event. Now since S02x19 and S02x20 are to be merged into one mega episode, lets slip into: S02x20 :  A Leopard on the Prowl 

Magnum and Higgins help Rick when his father figure, Icepick , just out of prison and battling terminal cancer, gets double crossed on one last score. Also, Magnum makes one last bold move to help Higgins stay in the country.

This is the rick centric episode the viewers were promised, Adding pics of Zac coz he looks great here:

But do you see anything missing here? My sleep deprived brain does. Icepick seems to be have fallen pray to something on the run, nothing pre-planned, the guy has terminal cancer, he’s dying any day now, why would someone spend any time to plan something against him? (He’s probably going to die in this epi..he only had few months.. the article says “reluctantly try to help him” seriously guys why do you have to be reluctant? And below pic is probably of the same related fight scene Jay talked about in the TV guide snippet:

And if the video Jay uploaded is even close to the actual scene, it could be because the guy hit Rick/Higgy and Magnum picked up another fight with him.. or that’s just for insta.. I’ll leave it open. There’s a fight scene with TC as well i suppose. Now what does the title have to do with the episode? Here’s my theory: - Remember Dr. Kim i already mentioned twice above. He’s gotta be here for more than just “catering the wedding”, magnum said he was a code breaker, he was mentioned in one of Robin’s books, he instantly identified the co-ordinates which Nuzzo left for Magnum, (which is duh!  u’re telling me that magnum was a navy SEAL and can read waves but cant piece together actual co-ordinates?!!). Magnum was kidnapped by Ivan’s people coz he needed something from him which was in the books, later Ivan had magnum delivered to himself on a secret mission of retrieving Hayek, who was a weapons dealer but he got away with drones instead.. I think this is all related somehow, there has to be something in this episode that points to this.. I thought may be its in Robin’s books.. but they have never mentioned the same book twice.. I’m still looking for answers though.. But going ahead, see this ,

“ Magnum makes one last bold move to help Higgins stay in the country.” “You see Higgins in a unexpected position, which magnum is very uncomfortable with and where he is not sure about his place”

Soo.. the wedding didn’t happen? So that’s not helping her stay in the country? 

It didn’t bother me much before.. but think about this, what if since the wedding plan backfired, she has to go back to London until her visa is renewed/reapplied for : an unexpected position since she has found something in Hawaii she doesn’t want to loose. Which leaves magnum as the in-charge of Robin’s nest and Zeus and Apollo and part of the deal [I can almost see my HC at the horizon]. An uncomfortable position where he has to manage the estate and the hounds of hell without his “professional better half”. I think there is a beach good-bye scene on this day, may be an actual hug between miggy? Supporting evidence as follows:

Now the last attempt Magnum makes, does he offer her a job? Does he confess? But that wouldn’t automatically land her in an unexpected situation , that would be magnum putting her in that situation while being full aware of his position. I bet lenkov has got pretty good plan for this to play out. Now this doesn’t back up my crack where Higgins leaves, because

This story was posted along with the one where magnum is boating.. so they’re probably from the same episode.. where the last ditch effort has paid off but Magnum and Higgins roles have now been shifted a little and lenkov’s quote makes sense “Nothing really changes”.. has anyone ne noticed that there are no Juliet pics from 2x20 yet? 

I cant wait to see that though.. and for a 100% i know there is a season 3, its a gut feeling i have. Thank you for stopping by.. sorry it was too long  😘

[paradigmaticsims]

18th Century Pleasantview: Unhappy Marriages

Ok, that’s not really fair two of them are not necessarily unhappy but they’re not based on romantic love. This is just me setting up the same kind of thing the game tells you to do, but hopefully after that I will do more different things with these sims.

This post is like, really long, too long, its stupidly long.

......

I know I said I would go to Pascal Curious next, but then I thought of how glorious it would be to see Daniel Pleasant in a powdered wig and how could I deprive anyone reading of that?

This shot is not historical, just kinda cool looking. I will take that swimming pool away from you Daniel…. When I can be bothered to makeover the house.

So Daniel has the affair with Kaylynn and all that, Mary-Sue finds out.

Daniel apparently didn’t want that to happen and goes into aspiration decline. They’re staying together though, cause divorces are difficult for women to get and I think it’ll be more interesting this way.

Cassandra and Angela enjoying the stereo while they still can.

Then Angela and Lilith start fighting and Cassandra just keeps dancing awkwardly like the useless lesbian she is.

Now featuring proper underwear, Daniel is balding underneath the wig.

Lilith has ANGST! Which I mean, I don’t disbelieve her, her family is in shambles.

Angela and Dustin’s first kiss

Lilith sneaking out with her son of an artist bf: Lol Angela would never do this.

Me: I mean Angela’s dating a peasant (and in my mind a revolutionary) so I actually think she wins.

Lilith sneaks back and Daniel is like, right there, but they just blank each other. I guess he can’t really lecture anyone right now.

..........

Onto the Goths now! I’m in the process of actually caring about making over their house.

I like the piano shots.

Cassandra and Don’s wedding (but it’s a sham marriage that they’re both in on). I forgot I must once have had a hack that makes sims wear their formalwear instead of the default wedding gear?

Ahh I figure out how to force them into their formal wear too late, so hear is Cassandra’s ironic wedding dress, and Don’s frock coat. Mortimer and Alexander dancing is cute.

Don, Don, Don, Don… DON we have multiple baths on this lot. You married a rich sim you no longer have to wash like a poor person…. in the kitchen... in view of everyone.

Don: Hey I married a rich sim, this means I can have a sponge bath in the bathroom… wait bath what?

I like the piano, piano shots are cool.

Oh hey Don finally figured out the bath! Good for him.

This is cute, Don tucking in Alexander.

Here’s my attempt so far of trying to Georgify the Goth house, while maintaining an old and creepy vibe. I probably don’t know enough about 18th century houses but who cares it’s not like there’s enough cc out there to make it accurate to within the 1790s or something so close enough is good enough.

Cassandra embarrassed by her father marveling at the fact that rain exists.

I want to use colours in the interior design! But still colours that are unusual, or a bit sickly, something to show that the Goths are still weird.

Don is bi cause I think that makes him easier to like. He thinks the butler’s hot.

Cassandra: And once day we’ll have a baby, we’ll give it toys, and play with it and give it all the attention a child needs.

Alexander, an actual child who exists in the here and now: Wooo! Look at me I got an A+ I crave attention!

Everyone: *ignores*

..........

Random scene from the Broke house.

This will only make Dustin more acab.

..........

At Nina and Dina’s house:  I forgot the burglar’s sack uses cartoon logic and is thus able to carry hot tubs.

Mortimer is awake while this happens, but just decides to dip instead. I guess when you’re rich you don’t care about poor people’s problems, even if you are dating courting one of those poor people.

Dina goes into full on meltdown over this, I don’t usually play fortune sims so I underestimated how much it would affect her.

Dina’s memory of this trauma inducing event is just ‘nice to meet you stranger’

MOOD

I wish this guy spawned in a different hood, so I could just leave his magnificent hipster aesthetic be.

..........

Back at the Goths and unfortunately my game crashed when I was playing the Goths before they hired a butler, so this time we get a new guy and he looks fun. (I would like an 18th century butler outfit default, that would be a cool thing that I have no idea how to do).

Mortimer I know you might not be the most social ques aware guy, but talking about the hotness of your new fiancé to your daughter is weird, just fyi.

To my great disappointment Don is not attracted to the new butler, which I do not get, Don are you seeing this?

I see Cassandra as being mostly gay and their marriage as mostly a sham, but she is at least bi enough to initiate trying for baby this one time. Cause sexuality on sims and in reality is more fluid and complicated than we give it credit for. Though I think she mostly just wants the baby cause maxis inexplicably made her a family sim. She’s the sims version of Wednesday Addams and they made her goal to get married and have babies? I do want her to have one kid for the sake of inheritance, but after that I’m making her a knowledge sim. Anyway despite all that I think this is a pretty picture.

I love the custom greetings.

Dina and Mortimer’s wedding, during the day and at the Goth house, cause it makes no sense for Mortimer to move in with Dina and Nina in their tiny house, wouldn’t Dina want to move in with Mortimer in his big old money house? I think she would. Plus her being in the same house with Cassandra and Don makes for maximum awkwardness.

Dina: Hey congrats on your hotness! Meanwhile Cassandra is applying far too much logic to be interesting to Nina.

Don and Cassandra have an open marriage with no jealousy set for both of them. Even so Nina just openly serenading Don right in front of Cassandra does seem a bit tactless.

On his own wedding day all the young people just ignore Mortimer.

Nina and Dina get to a point in the grief cycle where they feel it necessary to bad mouth the burglar.

Don asking the important questions: But did you… have sex with the burglar?

I forgot that reading kids to sleep was a thing you could do in game. This is cute.

Maybe Don and the butler were just meant to be bros.

The ‘Legacy Career’ is just a living off an inheritance. I 100% believe this is how rich people operate.

Cassandra, starting with how your Mum got abducted by aliens is probably not the best way to impress a girl. You ease into that.

Cassandra, who is pregnant, wet herself and then passed out and apparently these were things she was scared of so much that she hits aspiration failure. And I’m here to say that is just way too high a standard to be setting for yourself. Also the butler served people beer as food which is the real problem rn.

I like this picture, I don’t know why there’s not food when there is, but I like it. Don should get a new coat.

Look at these three queer, and mostly pregnant disasters.

I made over the butler, I took some liberties, but I mean he’s blue. I imagine he used to be a pirate. Don, I don’t understand you.

But at least he has learnt the ways of the bath.

The end. Now I have to see if I can fix some bugs.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

look through your textbook (cause i’m history) ch2

Content warnings: implied/referenced domestic violence

Summary: After dropping out, Yuri’s life is a haze of working and trying not to lose his damn mind. Then he meets Estelle.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

Estelle spends  a whole morning huddled down in front of Yuri’s clunky old laptop. He doesn’t have internet at his apartment right now, so they bring it over to the community center. Hanks helps her for a while, but soon the morning crowd trickles in, and duty calls him away. Yuri is banned from helping, on the grounds that he has no business advising anyone on how to interact with the police. He wishes he could do something for her, aside from repeatedly confirm that yes, he’ll be a block away the whole time; yes, she can still stay with him afterwards; yes, he will break into the station and whisk her away to safety if the police try any bullshit.

“I thought I told you to get away from her and not give any advice,” Hanks says, smacking Yuri away from Estelle’s side with the soft end of a broom.

“It’s not advice,” Yuri protests. “It’s reassurance.”

"Do n’t you listen to a damn thing that boy tells you,” Hanks tells Estelle, sternly. Estelle smiles nervously at both of them, eyes crinkled up despite the dark bags underneath them. She didn’t sleep much last night, according to Yuri’s creaky old box springs. That or nightmares, the way she was tossing and turning. It doesn’t make a difference which it was, really. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

What she’s doing is reading a lot of advice blogs and mumbling to herself about her rights. Just watching her raises the metaphorical hackles of Yuri’s protective instincts. Hanks has a point, though. The less Yuri is involved, the better. He keeps himself busy in the kitchen for the rest of the morning. At least he can be sure the chicken stock won’t try to coerce Estelle into returning to an abusive household.

After lunch, they pack up Yuri’s laptop and  get ready to go. Hanks unexpectedly flags them down before they make it out the door.

“Be careful, you two. Yuri, you’re on your best God damned behavior, you hear me?”

“Sir yes sir,” Yuri says, dryly.

“Young lady, you take this.”

“Huh?” Estelle fumbles with the solid object he drops into her hands. “Your—your phone? But—“

“I turned off the password lock,” Hanks says. “And Yuri’s name is plainly labeled in the contacts. That should stop him getting antsy and bursting in because he thinks it’s taking too long. I imagine it’ll make you feel a smidge better, too.”

“Thanks, Hanks,” Yuri says. He doesn’t have the heart to brush this one off. It really does make him feel a fuck of a lot better to know Estelle will be able to reach him even if she can’t get out of the building.

“Mind you, I want that back, of course,” Hanks says, patting Estelle on the shoulder. She clutches the phone to her chest, wide-eyed.

“Thank you so much...!”

Yuri flippantly salutes Hanks, reaching for the door. “Alright, boss, I’m clocking out for now.”

“No, you aren’t; community escorts are on the clock. Same as it would be if you were taking her to a clinic. Don’t argue with me, son. You need to pay for that gas somehow. Get a move on.”

“A clinic?” Estelle asks, as Yuri shepherds her out the door and into his car.

“Planned Parenthood, usually,” Yuri says. He turns the key and the car rumbles angrily at him, put out that he continues to expect it to function. He gives the dashboard a consoling pat. “Or other reproductive health clinics. Anywhere you can get an ob-gyn. Family planning services. You get the picture.”

“I think I do.” Estelle endearingly turns with Yuri to check behind the car as they reverse, then pull out of the parking lot. Even his shitty car seems to be a novelty to her sometimes. “You do an awful lot for the community center, don’t you?”

“Mm. Yeah. No more than they’ve done for me, though.”

There’s a moment of silence where Estelle fidgets with the sleeve cuffs of Hanks’s jacket. Yuri keeps an eye on her in the corner of his vision, but he can’t get a very good look at her expression. He needs to focus on the road. The last thing they need right now is for him to break a traffic law or cause an accident and get pulled over.

“Can... can you keep talking?”

“Sure. Any requests?”

“Ah... tell me a story about you and Flynn?”

Yuri ends up telling her the story of Repede’s blind eye. It’s not too gruesome if he plays it right, and he’s got a bit of practice at that from curious kids at the center. Yuri was her age at the time—God, that was a weird thought—and he’d been new to dog-ownership. Repede broke out of the hovel he and Flynn called an apartment overnight. After hours of searching in the dark, Hanks had hauled them both inside by their ears and forced them to rest. Repede turned up on the doorstep the next morning, face horribly scratched and howling for all his tiny little lungs were worth. Yuri was terrified to so much as wipe him off, in case he made the wound worse. All he could do was bundle Repede up in the cleanest towel he could find. He didn’t have the car yet, so Hanks called them a cab and Flynn, stuttering with panic, had asked to be taken to the vet their Coach used to take Repede and Lambert to.

“So you’ve got these two scruffy, sleep-deprived teenage boys obviously losing our minds while trying to keep a grip on this bloody puppy that was just—I know it sounds wrong, for a dog, but really the only way to describe it is screaming,” Yuri says. He flicks his turn signal on. They’re getting close to the police station. “And the poor receptionist was trying to ask for Repede’s info, but we didn’t know what to tell her, because we hadn’t taken Repede to the vet before—don’t look at me like that, we’d only had him two months or something, it’s not like we skipped out—and all the sudden the vet comes out to see what all the noise is about, and he takes one look at us and he goes, ‘that’s Lambert’s pup.’”

“Lambert?”

“Repede’s dad. He was our fencing coach’s dog. Apparently the vet worked with Coach at ZU back in the day, although we didn’t know that until later. Anyway, he whisked Repede into the back and told us to wait in the lobby, ‘cause it wasn’t going to be pretty. I was flipping my shit, because, you know, we’d only been taking care of Repede for a little while, and the wound looked so bad I had convinced myself he was going to die.”

“Oh, Yuri.”

“I was also running on like two hours of sleep at the time, which may have contributed. Anyway, Flynn had to sit there for like an hour, literally holding my hand, telling me that Repede was going to be fine and everything would be okay. He was freaking out too, but he still babysat me while I lost my min d . It was fucking heroic. And we were covered in blood that whole time. I mean, the receptionist took us to a sink where we could clean up a little bit, but some shit is just there to stay unless you change clothes.”

“Ew.”

“Uh-huh. But after a while the vet popped back out and he was like, ‘your dog is fine, come see him.’ They had knocked him out and stitched him up all pretty. Funny in retrospect—I wish I had a picture. Repede was boneless. Puppy puddle.”

“Maybe Flynn has a picture?”

“I don’t think so. We were both too busy being relieved.” Yuri pulls over in front of the police station. Estelle is a rigid line of tension in the passenger seat. “Alright, princess. You’ll just have to get this over with and hurry back out to get the rest of the story.”

Estelle’s lower lip wobbles. “You’ll have your phone on the whole time?”

“Max volume. Texts and calls.”

“And I don’t have to go back. I can—I can still stay with you.”

“Long as you need.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You’re gonna be A-okay,” Yuri says, firmly, “Just like Repede was. Look, you’ve got the beat-up face and everything. You have to be okay. It’s just cinematic parallels at this point.”

Estelle smiles, even though it doesn’t reach her eyes, as she clicks open the car door. “Where are you going to be parked?”

“You see over at that corner?” Yuri points down the block, through the windshield. “I’ll be at that convenience store. I’ll go in and buy a snack at some point so they can’t boot me out, since I’m a paying customer.”

“I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

“Sure thing.” Yuri holds his hand up to her. She stares at it blankly. “What? Come on. High five for good luck.”

Estelle slowly presses her palm against his and holds it there for a beat, looking at him dubiously. Yuri snorts.

“Okay, we’ll work on that one later.”

“Is this not—?”

“Nope, nuh-uh, this is a problem for post-police Estelle. Out you get.”

She puts Hanks’s phone into her pocket and slides out of the car. She gives Yuri another halfhearted smile as she closes the door, mouthing bye through the window. See you, Yuri mouths back. He doesn’t pull away from the curb until she’s all the way inside. When he does, he’s muttering curses under his breath.

Dammit. She’s going to be fine. Cinematic parallels. Estelle is a smart cookie, and she spent all morning preparing. She has Hanks’s phone. She’s a legal adult.

Yuri wishes he had brought Repede along. But there was a toddler read-along today at the community center, and Repede likes to lounge on the carpet between all the kids, soaking up their attention while he naps. It’s not like there’s anyplace close to the station where Yuri could be exercising with him, which is the only way he could justify it. If Repede isn’t getting a workout either way, he might as well do the one he likes better. Yuri’s the human here. He can suck it up.

He pulls into the lot of the convenience store and cranks the parking brake into place with more force than necessary. His forehead thuds against the top of the steering wheel, well away from the horn. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Estelle a Flynn story. Now he just fucking misses Flynn. He always does, has for the last few years, but now it’s sharp and immediate. He misses knowing that Flynn could take Repede out between classes when Yuri was too busy. He misses having his best friend there to tell him shit’s going to be alright. He misses Flynn being able to cheer him up just by being there, misses Flynn helping him do school shit even if it was too simple for him when it was stupidly hard for Yuri.

The problem is that it’s so easy to talk to Estelle about Flynn. Everybody at the community center drives him up the freaking wall treading on eggshells about it. They’re always watching him when Flynn comes up in conversation, waiting for him to snap and get mad. They only know scattered fragments of why Yuri and Flynn aren’t the same unit they used to be, but they know enough to be wary of bringing it up. Estelle, though. Estelle doesn’t know any of it. It’s bizarre to Yuri. They nearly physically fought the last time they saw each other, and Flynn told Estelle that Yuri is his best friend. Estelle will go, one time Flynn—and Yuri can go, yeah, that’s Flynn alright, did he tell you about this other time? And there’s no secret second conversation about whether Yuri’s about to go completely unhinged. It makes him run his mouth more than he should. He didn’t even tell Hanks that Flynn held his hand in the vet lobby while Repede had surgery. He doesn’t think anybody but Raven knows about that, if Raven even remembers.

If he doesn’t get a grip, Estelle is going to figure out a lot more about how he feels about Flynn than he wants her to. She’s not an idiot. Worse, she’s a romantic. She’ll connect the dots.

...Now he’s worrying about Estelle and missing Flynn and kicking himself over his shitty feelings again. Great. Fantastic. This afternoon is going just swell.

Yuri lets himself out of the damn car and goes into the convenience store to buy chocolate or something. He needs it.

Yuri is used to his friends just opening the door and hopping back in the car, so when Estelle taps on the window, he jumps about a foot in the air and almost hits his head.

“Sorry,” Estelle says, cracking the door open to peer in at him. “Can I—?”

“Yeah, get in,” Yuri says. She climbs into her seat and draws her knees up so she can wrap her arms around them, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Yuri watches her for a moment, then reaches past her to get into the glove compartment. “Hey. Here. Got you something.”

“Huh?” Estelle sniffles a little. Her eyes go big when she sees what Yuri is offering her. “Oh, you didn’t have to—“

“It’s convenience store chocolate,” Yuri says. He pokes her in the arm with it until she frees a hand to take it from him. “Not exactly a crazy luxury gift. I got the receipt if you want a different flavor, though.”

“No, this is good,” Estelle mumbles. She unwraps it, sniffling some more. “’M—‘m sorry. I know c-crying makes you uncomfortable.”

“That’s my problem. You worry about yourself.” Yuri crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat to watch her. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Th-they wanted me to go back.” She scrubs at her eyes. “I knew they would. It’s okay. I expected it. You were right, they couldn’t force me to do anything because I’m eighteen.”

“Still shitty, though.”

“Y-yeah.”

“They give you any other problems?”

“I had to argue with them about n-not telling my guardian where I was staying. But they said they would officially delist me as missing. That’s what—what matters.”

Yuri nods, slowly. “You just tell me if there’s anyone I should be running off the property if I catch them near the apartment, alright?”

“Ah. Okay.” She nibbles at the chocolate. “...Will you, um, tell me the rest of the story about Repede?”

“Sure. Lemme pull out first.” When they’re both seat-belted and Yuri has managed to exit the parking lot without running anyone over, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Where was I?”

“P-puppy puddle.”

Yuri huffs out a laugh. “That’s right. Poor Repede. Raven—that’s our vet—he gave us a bunch of antibiotics to give Repede, and talked us through what to expect during Repede’s recovery until he woke up. Once he was conscious they got the cone of shame on him. Only time he’s ever needed one, while we had him. Think he had one when he got fixed, too, but that was before we took him in.”

Estelle giggles wetly. “P-poor thing. Borzoi pups are all—all skinny, aren’t they? He must’ve been falling over with the heavy cone on his head.”

“God, you would think so, but Repede was a big boy when he was a puppy. Solid chunk of dog. He was like that even when Coach had him, so it wasn’t our fault for overfeeding him or anything . Probably the German Shepherd blood. They’re a little thicker than Borzoi pups. I definitely do have pictures of puppy Repede, I’ll find them for you when I get home from work tonight.” Yuri sifts through the memories and snorts fondly. “Didn’t help much with the cone, though. I don’t think losing one of his eyes was doing him any favors either. The first few nights after the surgery were terrible. He would wake up and try to get some kibble or water, and he’d knock over damn near everything in the apartment, so of course that would wake us up, too. Even if we managed to sleep through that, he would get frustrated and start crying. ”

“But you were already so tired!”

“Like I said, rough couple of nights. We ended up having to coordinate a schedule of who got up to deal with it at what times on what nights. Hanks kept telling us it was a practice run for having kids someday.”

Estelle cocks her head, more alert. “Kids? For you two, together? Flynn didn’t tell me—”

“No.” Yuri grips the steering wheel tighter and prays his cheeks aren’t red. “No, not together. Just in general. It was a bad joke either way—I’d make a crummy dad .”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“You’re very nice to say so, but you’re also very wrong.”

Estelle gives him a thoughtful look. Yuri hurries on with the story.

“Anyway, giving him the antibiotics was probably the worst part. Raven gave them to us in a syringe at first, to squirt into his mouth, but Repede would lose his mind when we tried to open his mouth to give it to him. It was hard to hold his head still without aggravating the wound. So we tried switching to pill form and mixing them into his food, but the little brat would just pick them out and we’d find a little pile of them in his empty bowl after he ate.”

“What did you do?”

Yuri grins nostalgically. “Wrapped ‘em in bits of deli turkey.”

“Yuri!”

“Yeah, Flynn yelled at me too. He damn near killed me the first time I did it. Still, it was the only thing that worked, and we were too exhausted to fight over it. Repede would be so excited to eat the turkey, he wouldn’t realize there was a pill until it was too late. Flynn did get to say ‘I told you so’ a lot afterwards, though, because I’ve never been able to keep deli turkey in the house since. Repede is convinced it’s for him.”

“Can’t you just keep it away from him?”

“Nope. He’s a dog on a mission.”

Estelle smiles, small but real. Some of the tension has left her posture. Good.

“That whole ordeal is probably why Repede hates the vet, now, anyway,” Yuri says. He mentally plots their route back to the community center. He should have enough time before bartending to drop Estelle off and take Repede for a run.

“Maybe if you switched vets...?”

“Nah—I don’t think it’s just Raven, since he’s not very happy to see any of the vet techs, either. I guess it could be the location itself. Best vet within a convenient distance, though—if you ever meet Raven, don’t tell him I said that, okay? He’d be fucking insufferable about it. But he did us... a lot of favors, back then. Had to guide me through a lot of stupid first-time dog-owner stuff. Least I can do is give him my business.”

Estelle’s been looking out the passenger-side window, but now her head lolls against the headrest to face Yuri. “Hey, Yuri?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you talk about Repede like he was yours and Flynn’s when he was a puppy, but just yours now?”

“...Flynn’s pretty busy with school these days.” Too busy to be wasting time on some stupid drop-out. “I’ve got more free time, so I took Repede. He hasn’t seen Flynn in a long time. I don’t know if he would remember Flynn now.”

“You don’t have very much free time at all, though.”

Yuri cocks a smile with as much conviction as he can muster. “Yeah, because I’ve filled it all with Repede. It doesn’t really look like free time any more. It just looks like Repede time.”

Estelle is quiet for a moment. Just when Yuri starts to hope that she’ll drop it, she says, “You miss him.”

Yuri brakes maybe a little too sharply at a stop sign. Their seatbelts snap taught. Estelle yelps.

“Sorry,” Yuri mutters. “Noticed the sign a little late. Miss who, Repede? It’s true, I do miss Repede when I have to leave him for more than five minutes— ”

“Flynn. You miss Flynn, don’t you?”

Yuri tries to fast forward through all the different ways this conversation could play out in his head. What’s the answer least likely to swamp him with a discussion of his feelings and his current relationship with Flynn? If he tries to say no, Estelle might tell him why she thought he did, and he doesn’t want to deal with that kind of self-awareness. The truth is probably safer. “...Yeah.”

“Why don’t you call him?”

“He got a new number at some point since I last saw him in person.”

“Wh—oh.” Estelle frowns a bit. “I think I remember when that happened. He didn’t give you the new number?”

“Nope. Probably didn’t have mine memorized, or something.” Or he just figured it was as good an excuse as any to move on to better social circles, and leave the squalor of his past behind. That’s what Yuri’s been betting on.

At least, it was until Estelle showe d up and started saying weird shit about how Flynn still talks about him.

“I could give you his new number!”

Somehow, that catches Yuri completely off guard. He glances over at her. “You have his number memorized? Wow, princess. I didn’t realize you were that into him.”

“I’m—“ Estelle splutters at him, red-faced. Yuri grins despite himself as he turns back to the road. “I am not! It’s not like that! I forgot I didn’t have my phone—”

“Uh-huh. I’ll start working on my speech for your wedding.”

“Yuri! I don’t like him that way! And that’s not even—Flynn doesn’t even like g—“

Girls. Estelle slaps a hand over her own mouth before the rest of the word can slip out. She looks at Yuri, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. Yuri considers messing with her some more, but decides to have some pity.

“Relax. I already knew Flynn was gay. I’m just screwing around.”

“Oh, good,” Estelle breathes, slumping back in her seat.

“Anyway, speaking of your phone, maybe we should figure out a plan to rescue some of your shit.”

Estelle wrings her hands. “...I don’t know. I don’t think there’s a good way to get into my old home without having to talk to...”

“ Don’t you worry,” Yuri says, cheerfully. He was just trying to find a way to divert the conversation away from Flynn, but he’s quickly warming to the idea. He doesn’t have bartending too late tonight. “I’ll take care of that. Just wait and see. You didn’t have any plans for tonight, did you?”

“This is illegal!” Estelle hisses. Yuri, halfway through the action of pulling himself over a brick wall, gives her an incredulous look. She’s been trying to dissuade him since they came within a few blocks of the property. Apparently Estelle is willing to stand up when people try to steamroll past her. She just picks her battles.

“How? I’m pretty sure you technically still live here, legally.”

“It’s still breaking and entering! And theft! ”

“Oh, wah wah wah. It’s not like we’re really stealing. It’s all your stuff.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works!”

Yuri snorts and pulls himself the rest of the way up, perched on the top. “Are you coming, or do you want to wait here?”

“I—I don’t want to start my new life with a criminal record!”

“So wait.”

“Yuri!”

“Relax, I’ve got this under control. Which floor is your room on?”

Estelle makes a high-pitched sound of aggravation and tries to scramble up the wall after him. She almost topples back down halfway up, and Yuri has to reach down to haul her up by the collar of Hanks’s jacket. The jitters probably aren’t doing her coordination any favors.

“What happened to not wanting a criminal record?”

“If I come with you so you know where to go, everything will be faster, and we can be done and leave sooner.”

“You can tell me where to go from here, you don’t have to be involved.”

Estelle gives him a sulky, anxious look. “I don’t want to—to just wait alone in the dark. What if someone comes by?”

“Hide in a bush.”

“Flynn and Hanks were right, you are a troublemaker.”

“I can’t tell you how flattered and alarmed I am that it’s taken you like a week and a half to figure that out.”

Yuri did sort of count on Estelle staying behind, although he gets why she doesn’t want to now that she mentions it. There’s no car in the driveway right now. What if her guardian comes back while Yuri is inside? Still, now he has to factor her into his entry and exit strategy. Damn. He should have just made her give him an address, left her at home and winged it from there.

“Okay,” Yuri mutters. He swings his legs over the other side of the wall and starts his descent. “Just... do what I do, alright? I’ll try not to do anything too crazy. Lemme know if you can’t keep up and I’ll figure something else out.”

“A-alright.” Estelle tentatively lowers her leg over the edge of the wall, searching for the uneven bricks Yuri used to get down. Yuri hops down the last few feet and gets under her, spotting her in case of a fall. It seems to help with the mental side of things, at least. Estelle stops trembling so much and plants her feet more confidently. Yuri whisks her off the wall when she gets as far down as he jumped from.

“I don’t suppose you know whether there’s any security cameras?”

“Ah—yes, but—but we’ll be able to see them, there’s a little light when they’re on.”

“You sure they’re not motion-activated?”

“Y...yes?”

Well, there’s only one way to figure out for sure.

They creep around the perimeter of the property. Estelle murmurs directions and notes about the layout of the property. Here’s the garden; there’s the shed, but that definitely has a security camera, so don’t go that way. The greenhouse doesn’t have a camera, but it’s locked. Estelle thinks it will be, anyway, and Yuri’s not going to stick his fingerprints on every random surface just for funsies. Back door to the kitchen is a no go, too. There’s a chance the housekeeper might be around. Obviously they’re not going through the front door.

“I...” Estelle looks at him sideways, wringing her hands. They’re crouched in the shadows of the small orchard on the far side of the house. “I never locked my balcony door? But it’s on the second floor. There’s a tree, but no branches until higher up—I don’t know if it’s...”

“Oh, princess,” Yuri says. “Have some faith. I will make it climbable.”

“M-maybe for you!”

But she still helps guide Yuri back around the house and points out the window. It’s dark, which isn’t surprising. Estelle hasn’t been in her room for at least a week and a half. They’re too close to the ground floor windows now to risk talking, even whispering, so Yuri just pats her on the back and hoists himself up on the nearest decorative garden statue. From the top, he leaps to grab a tree branch hanging ten feet off the ground. It’s a solid jump, there’s no getting around it. Estelle’s wide eyes gleam in the moonlight as she clambers up the statue after him. Yuri hastily climbs up to straddle the branch. If she gets a bad grip, he’s going to want to be stable enough to catch her.

She wobbles at the top of the statue and casts a fretful look at Yuri. Yuri’s not feeling so hot about this himself, really, but at this point all he can do is flash her a thumbs-up and lean forward, body pressed to the branch to extend his reach below it.

She jumps.

The tree shu dders violently. Estelle gasps. Yuri hisses through his teeth, straining to keep his grip on Estelle’s free hand. She managed to get one hand onto the branch, at least, but she’s scrabbling not to lose her hold.  The longer this goes on, the less likely someone inside will be willing to write it off as a bird or a raccoon or something—honestly, though, with her fingertips sliding over bark, it seems more likely that she’ll plummet to the ground and break something.

But right as Yuri starts to seriously consider freaking out, she grits her teeth, stretches up with Yuri’s help to get a second hand on the branch, and somehow, somehow works her way up to sit beside him. It’s fucking impressive. Yuri didn’t know she had that kind of arm strength. She really is a determined little monster when she puts her mind to it.

From there, it’s not easy, but it’s easier. The tree is good for climbing once you’re on it. Estelle shadows Yuri’s footwork, even with her second-hand sneakers slipping where the traction has worn down. Yuri helps her swing out of the branches and onto the balcony. He reaches for the door. Estelle catches his wrist, shaking her head, and opens it herself.

Of course. Estelle leaving fingerprints won’t alarm anybody if someone investigates the break-in. Yuri should have thought of that.

Estelle’s room is cast in odd angles of shadow, but Yuri can still tell that it’s exactly as frilly as he expected. Gauzy pink drapes surround the bed. The sheets gleam like satin. The moonlight makes the carpet look snow-white. It’s horrifyingly clean, too. Yuri has never seen a carpet that looked less walked-upon than this one. For fuck’s sake, did they steam-press her carpet the second she left the house, or does it always look like this?

He glances at Estelle. She stares at the room like she’s never seen it before.

No, wait. She doesn’t look like she’s seeing it at all. Shit. Yuri didn’t think this through. He should have been ready for the chance that coming back here would make Estelle dissociate.

“Estelle,” Yuri hisses, as quietly as he possibly can. It’s rough. He’s not built for low volumes. He touches her elbow. “Estelle, stick with me.”

Estelle looks down at his hand, blinking sightlessly. Yuri jostles her a bit. That snaps her out of it. She shakes herself out, jaw clenching. Yuri passes her one of the drawstring backpacks he brought with him.

“What do I grab?” she whispers.

“Whatever you want.”

“But...”

“Irreplaceable family shit. Books. Any clothes you really like.” He holds up the other bag. “Just point me to what you want and I’ll grab it for you.”

Estelle’s face falls. “I can’t fit all of my books.”

“That’s what the library is for, princess.”

“I don’t have a library card.”

“I have some great news for you about public libraries, but we’ll save that for later. Come on, let’s hurry up.”

Estelle’s wardrobe is baffling to Yuri. Almost everything in it is nicer than the value of all of his clothes put together. To get to the clothes she wants, she has to shove aside a whole row of hangers with fancy dresses on them. Thank God she doesn’t seem to want to take those ones with her. She points him to her bookshelf, whispering, “As many as possible!” and tiptoes off toward an ensuite bathroom. The floor doesn’t creak a peep. Yuri’s not sure he’s ever been in a room where it was possible to move this quietly.

He gives Estelle’s personal library his full consideration, which is to say he stares at each title for about two seconds and tries to picture it in the Lower Quarter’s public library. If he can’t, he grabs it. Most of the fiction gets left behind this way, but he figures Estelle will forgive him once they get her a library card. It’s gonna be awkward if she’s no longer interested in hardcover nonfiction novels about the history of European mythology or what the fuck ever, though.

Estelle emerges from the bathroom again, clutching her bag to her chest. On her way back to Yuri, she stoops to retrieve a pair of sneakers from under the bed. They’re fucking pristine. Yuri has seen shoes in shoe commercials that looked more used. She peers at what’s left on the bookshelf. Yuri allows her to double-check his work with as much patience as he can muster, but it’s not long before he nudges her insistently again. She huffs but obliges, crossing over to her desk. She retrieves several notebooks, then hesitates. Yuri peeks around her. Her hand hovers over her phone.

“It’s your call,” he says. “But I wouldn’t put money on that not being tracked.”

“I know,” Estelle says, miserably. She reaches down to turn it on and Yuri winces away from the sudden illumination of the screen. “Oh, no... I knew everyone might worry, but this is...”

“Maybe they’ll figure it out when the posters go down.” Or they’ll think she was found dead in a ditch, but Yuri probably shouldn’t say that to Estelle. Oh, hell, maybe Flynn thinks she’s dead in a ditch. Yuri is intimately acquainted with how badly Flynn copes with grief. Maybe they should be looking into secret, safe venues of contact. It won’t be from Estelle’s old phone, though, because she gives it one last wistful caress and leaves it on the desk.

Somehow, Yuri gets them both back out the window, down the tree and off the property without making too much of a ruckus. They sprint back to the edge of campus where Yuri left his car. For a few minutes, Estelle is too busy wheezing to say anything, and Yuri is more than happy to drive them through quiet streets bathed in yellow lamplight in silence. He likes the cover of night. It feels safe. He appreciates that, after the luxuriousness of Estelle’s house up close showed him that he was in way, way deeper than he’d thought.

“Oh, drat,” Estelle says, abruptly. Yuri side-eyes her.

“What now?”

“I ought to have at least gotten my contacts out of my old phone. I wanted to get Flynn’s number for you.”

“Christ’s sake, Estelle. Don’t do that to me. I thought we needed to go back for something important.”

“No! No. That was—this is enough. More than enough. You shouldn’t have—and I mean you really, actually shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you made me into a criminal!”

“I don’t see how it’s breaking and entering and stealing if I escort a lady back into her old house to pick up her own shit,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. He does, in a clean-cut legal way, but it’s a stupid case to make in the first place. Everything they took was Estelle’s. Honestly, none of it seems to be worth much by itself. With a little luck, Estelle’s guardian or whoever won’t even notice that anything is missing until it’s way too late.

“It was extremely illegal!”

Yuri drops his voice several octaves to drone, blandly, “Your honor, the defendant is responsible for the theft of her own fucking notebooks, which have absolutely no commercial value and are basically useless to literally anyone else.”

Estelle laughs, once, sharp like she can’t help herself. She pushes at Yuri’s shoulder with almost no real force. “You’re awful.”

“Hey, no hitting the driver.”

“You didn’t even flinch!”

“I let you hit me, someday you’ll do it while Ted’s watching, suddenly Ted thinks he’s allowed to hit me and then we’ll all die in a fiery car crash.”

“You’re absurd.”

Yuri snorts. “You sound like Flynn.”

“I probably sound like everybody who knows you!”

“Absurd? Nah, that one’s all Flynn. Most people stick with ‘dumbass.’”

“Well,” Estelle says, primly, “I can’t imagine why.”

“Ouch,” Yuri laughs. He pulls into his apartment’s parking lot. “Right in the heart. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

They’re still sniping at each other when they exit the car and head inside. The banter keeps up all the way to Yuri’s door, but Estelle is definitely sagging before they’re halfway up the stairs. She drags her feet on her way across the threshold, dropping her bag of rescued possessions on the couch before she collapses in a pile on the floor, next to Repede. Repede lifts his head enough to sniff at her suspiciously. When she offers her hand, he licks it, then unexpectedly leans over to lick her on the nose. Estelle half-laughs, half-yelps.

“Yuck! Repede!”

“Aw,” Yuri says. He kicks off his shoes and leaves the bag of Estelle’s books with her other shit before throwing himself down next to her and Repede. Repede quickly turns to plop his head into Yuri’s lap, tail wagging. Yuri strokes his back. “You’re getting used to her, aren’t you, bud?”

“He’s a good boy,” Estelle says. She pats Repede’s belly. He huffs a little, but allows it. “Repede, Yuri told me all about what a brave puppy you were today.”

She traces her fingers across his muzzle to touch the scarred side of his face. He doesn’t react much—he never has, not since it finished healing.

“I wish I was as brave as you,” Estelle whispers.

“I told you,” Yuri says, uncomfortably. “Cinematic parallels. You pulled through, just like him. I didn’t even have to force-feed you your antibiotics.” To Repede, he adds, dryly, “Unlike someone.”

Repede, who is a dog and has no clue Yuri is shit-talking him, yawns widely.

“I wish I could be strong,” Estelle mumbles. Her eyelids are drooping. Her whole body is drooping, actually. She wobbles unsteadily, even sitting down. “I wish I could... could go back and talk to my friends and not be so scared. That I could just knock on the door and ask to pick up my things. I’m such a baby.”

“Estelle,” Yuri says, around the lump in his throat. He reaches out and catches her by the shoulders as she sways forward, then eases her down so her head rests on Repede’s side. She sniffles a bit. “Being afraid of an abuser doesn’t make you a baby. Sometimes running away is the brave thing to do.”

“It’s not like he hit me that often.” Her fingers curl into Repede’s fur. He whuffles anxiously. Yuri strokes his head, trying to give Repede the comfort he wishes he knew how to give Estelle. “I should have stayed. I overreacted. I’m so stupid. And now I’m causing you trouble, and...”

“Estelle, c’mon.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” Yuri says. He rubs her back. “It’s not. But it’s not your fault.”

“I should have...”

“You should get some sleep is what you should do,” Yuri says. He heaves himself to his feet, then crouches again to scoop Estelle into his arms. She buries her face against his shoulder as he lifts her. Shit, she’s heavier than she looks. He grunts with the effort. “Okay, princess? Let’s get you to bed. In the morning we’ll eat a good breakfast and go talk to Hanks, and you’ll feel better. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

He carries her to the bedroom and dumps her on the bed. She clings to his shirt when he tries to pull away.

“I d-don’t want to be alone—”

“Okay,” Yuri says. “Then let’s get you into some pajamas, and I can sleep on the floor in here for tonight.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I took you someplace that was shitty for you tonight. Of course you’re upset.”

Estelle changes while he brushes his teeth. Once he’s got on his own soft sleep shirt and old shorts, he flops down in a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Repede curls up behind his knees.

“Thank you, Yuri,” Estelle mumbles, from under the comforter.

“It’s no problem. Wake me up if you need anything, alright? Anything at all.”

“...Okay.”

Yuri wakes up to smoke.

“The fuck?” he croaks. Repede sticks his head in through the open bedroom door, whining quietly. Yuri kicks his way out of the blanket cocoon he’s tangled in and staggers into the kitchen.

Ah. Estelle.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, wide-eyed and near to tears in front of a blackened skillet of what possibly used to be eggs. “I just wanted to—“

“Windows first, apologies later,” Yuri says. He yanks open the living room window, then grabs a magazine off the coffee table to wave uselessly through the smoke. Estelle coughs. “Damn. I forgot to change the batteries in the smoke detector.”

“A-are we going to—?”

“It’s fine, we’re fine. Go open the window in the bedroom, will you?”

Estelle hurries to obey while Yuri opens the kitchen window. The smoke isn’t as bad as it could be, given the apparent death of the detector. Seems like it’s already clearing out a bit. He picks up the spatula Estelle abandoned to prod at the lump of charcoal in his skillet.

“I wanted to make breakfast,” Estelle says, miserably, from somewhere behind him. “To thank you. But I messed it up.”

“Of course you did,” Yuri says. He scrapes at the skillet a little. It spreads charcoal around. “You haven’t ever cooked before, have you?”

“No...”

“You should have gotten me up. I could teach you.”

“But it wouldn’t be thanking you if I made you work more!”

“Yet here we are,” Yuri says. “Besides, I don’t need to be thanked, Christ. Open the trash for me.”

Estelle dutifully opens the cupboard the trash bin is stashed inside. Yuri pushes the less stubborn bits of charcoal into the bin, kicks the cupboard closed, then dumps the pan into the sink to soak.

“You do need to be thanked,” Estelle says. Yuri gives her an exasperated look over his shoulder; when he opens his mouth, she adds, hurriedly, “I want to thank you.”

“Well stop it,” Yuri grumbles. He goes into the cupboard for  a new pan. At least the smoke is clearing out relatively fast. “Are there still eggs?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Alright. We’re going to give the smoke another minute to disperse, and in the meantime you can get a small bowl down for me and take the eggs back out.”

Yuri fucks off to find batteries. When he returns to the kitchen, Estelle is waiting anxiously with a small bowl and the egg carton. The air is only faintly smokey. Yuri grabs a chair and shoves it under the smoke detector.

“Crack the eggs into the bowl,” he says, as he clicks the cover off. “I’ll watch from here.”

“How many eggs?”

“Four.”

“You eat four eggs at once?”

“What are you going to have for breakfast?”

Estelle gives him a baffled look, like it hadn’t even occurred to her that she could make her own breakfast too. “I—I guess eggs?”

“If we have four eggs left, do four. If we don’t, I’ll just split whatever we have with you. We’ve got bread. We can have toast or something too.” Yuri sighs as he slides the new batteries into place. “I guess we need to go to the store. Shit.”

“I only used two eggs before,” Estelle blurts out. “We’ve still got five eggs.”

“Yeah, but I was gonna make shakshuka tomorrow.” Yuri puts the cover back on the smoke detector. Estelle finally, hesitantly removes an egg from the carton. She taps it lightly against the side of the bowl.

“Harder than that.”

“I’ll get egg everywhere!”

“You won’t.” Yuri climbs down from the chair. “You need a clean break to pull it apart, or you’ll get bits of shell in everything. Here, I’ll show you one.”

Yuri dumps the dead batteries into the garbage along with the still-faintly-smoking wreckage of the burnt eggs, then washes his hands. Estelle watches raptly as he plucks an egg out of the carton and snaps it against the edge of the bowl before pulling it cleanly apart.

“Like that. Now you—yeah, okay, that was a lot better. Now the next two.”

Estelle furrows her brow and does as instructed. She still gets a piece of eggshell in the mix, but nothing Yuri can’t fish out with his fingers. “Why are we using a bowl? Can’t it just go straight in the pan?”

“It can if you know what you’re doing.” Yuri shrugs, leaning his hip against the counter as he monitors Estelle’s dismemberment of the final egg. “For a beginner, though, it’s easier to make sure all of the eggs will go in the pan at the same time. Are we doing sunny-side up, or scrambled?”

“Uh—scrambled?”

“Okay. Let’s both wash the raw egg off our hands, then you’re gonna get the milk out.” Yuri towels off his own hands as Estelle opens the fridge, then reaches into the silverware drawer for a fork. “Just dump in a little bit.”

“How much?”

“A little bit. Like I said.”

“That’s not very specific.”

“Well, I just eyeball it. Here, I’ll do it the first time so you can see. Just—this much, about. A glug.”

“A glug,” Estelle echoes, side-eyeing him dubiously.

“A very precise measurement,” Yuri says. He flashes her a grin and hands the milk back. “Put this away.”

Salt and pepper to taste and whisking the yolks into the whites, at least, Estelle seems comfortable with. While she does that, he dumps some cooking oil into the new pan and turns on the heat.

“You’re a good teacher,” Estelle tells him, as she carefully pours the beaten eggs into the skillet. “You should teach classes.”

Yuri snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t have the patience for teaching as a job.”

“But you do!”

“I’ve taught stuff for the community center occasionally. I know I’m not cut out to do it full-time. You’re an angel of a student compared to most people, princess.”

Estelle tries not to visibly preen at the praise and mostly fails. Yuri laughs. “Here, grab the spatula. What you want to do now is—“

“You could’ve gotten her in a lot of trouble.”

“I told her she could stay behind.”

“Yuri.”

Yuri sighs. Estelle is on the other side of the community center, helping some of the kids with their homework. Yuri has to leave for the bar in ten minutes, and he was starting to think he might escape without the lecture, but no such luck. “Hanks.”

“Boy, what am I going to do with you?” Hanks sighs too, leaning back in his chair. “I thought you would have grown out of this by now.”

“Sorry,” Yuri says, snippy and insincere. “Really shitty of me to want her to have some of her own stuff that she likes again.”

“You know that’s not what the issue is, son.” Hanks rubs his temples. “You’re too impulsive. What if you had been caught? Forget Estellise. What do you think would have happened if someone had caught you?”

Yuri shrugs. “Nothing good.”

“And you still did it?”

“It was a calculated risk.”

“Your damn calculations are off.” Hanks scrubs a hand through his beard and fixes Yuri with a tired look. “I wish your old coach was still here. You were always better behaved for him.”

Yuri’s stomach drops. Hanks seems to realize his mistake as soon as he makes it, hastily opening his mouth again, but it’s too late for that now. Yuri is already shoving his chair back, the legs screeching on the floor. Estelle looks up from the other side of the room; Yuri sees her in his periphery before he turns to the door.

“Yuri?”

“I’m going to work,” Yuri gets out, through gritted teeth.

“Yuri, come on—“ Hanks tries. Yuri strides away without looking back. He shoves his way out the community center’s doors. There’s a quick patter of footsteps behind him, but it’s not Hanks’s gait, so Yuri forces himself not to lash out when someone catches him by the arm before he can get in his car. Estelle blinks up at him with her big green eyes.

“I thought you had a few more minutes.”

“I’m leaving early.”

She chews on her lower lip. A little guiltily, she admits, “I told the children you would do a knife trick for them if they finished their homework.”

Against all odds, that punches a short bark of laughter out of Yuri. He feels a little of the tension go with it, but the damn ache in his chest doesn’t go anywhere. “They’ll have to do their homework tomorrow, too, then. Tell them I’ll do two knife tricks to make up for it.”

Estelle beams at him. Her hand is still resting gently on his arm.

“Are you...” The smile slides off her face. “Are you upset? When you left, it seemed like...”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Yuri says, too sharply. Estelle’s face falls further. God dammit. Estelle is the last person who deserves Yuri’s ire. Trying to speak more softly, he adds, “Hanks chewed me out and I got mad because I’m secretly twelve. That’s all.”

“It didn’t look like you were mad about being lectured,” Estelle presses. Yuri swallows down a bitter sigh. He doesn’t want to talk about Coach in the middle of the community center’s parking lot when he has to drive to work in five minutes. He doesn’t want to talk about Coach at all, really. Estelle has enough baggage of her own without trying to unpack Yuri’s.

“I don’t really want to get into it right now.”

Estelle still looks a little hurt, but she nods. Her hand drops from Yuri’s arm as she steps back.

“Hang on.” Yuri digs into his pocket and fiddles with his keyring, then holds a fist out to Estelle. “Here. Gimme your hand.”

Estelle complies, her wounded expression melting into curiosity. Yuri presses a set of keys into her open palm.

“Take these. You can just go straight back to the apartment instead of having to wait for me to finish up at the bar.”

Estelle stands up a little straighter, with her mouth a little o of shock. “Are you sure? Is that really okay?”

“Sure. What’re you gonna do, rob me?”

“Well, I—I could! Hypothetically!”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Right. Just take Repede for a long walk in the evening before you steal all of my shit, then. And I’m gonna need you to let me in or leave the door unlocked when I get home.”

“Okay!” Before Yuri can do much except fight down the reflex to throw her across the parking lot, Estelle launches herself forward to wrap Yuri in a hug. Yuri grunts in surprise, arms trapped. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s your apartment too, for now,” Yuri says. He manages to wriggle a hand free to pat her on the head. “We’ll get a second key tomorrow or something. I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you!”

Yuri waves as he drives off. It’s—an odd feeling, almost distracting enough that he stops feeling so nauseated. He’s taken on down-on-their-luck guests before, but he’s never given them his fucking keys.

Well. That’s the power of Estelle, he guesses.

[t-lostinworlds]

Worried (Shawn Mendes)

A/N: I wrote a spur of a moment kind of thing again hahaha so this was a quick one (so it may be bad lol sorry). Anyway, here’s a little boyfriend!shawn while I get to writing them other things asdfghjkl lol. Also, very insignificant but this is my 3000th post and my OCD ass is partying at that clean even number sksksksk. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: It’s normal for a person to worry about someone they care about, but when it comes to you, Shawn worries a little too much than he should.

Warnings: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 3.5k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

"You sure you're okay baby?" Shawn asked again, the concern in his voice not wavering by a bit ever since he's asked you that same question for the sixth time in the last ten minutes, in which each time you've answered with 'I'm fine.'

You didn't bother to answer him this time around as you gave him an annoyed look, a soft chuckle leaving his lips once he saw your expression. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Just making sure."

Shawn slipped on his denim jacket and proceeded to wrap his scarf around his neck before sitting down on the side of the bed where you were wrapped in a blanket like a human burrito, tired eyes and flushed cheeks looking up at him with a sweet smile, making you look so goddamn adorable in Shawn's eyes.

"Just don't hesitate to call me okay?" Shawn whispered but with his voice still firm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning down to press his lips against your slightly warm forehead, his hand soft against your skin as he cup your cheek.

You hummed and gave him a small smile, tired eyes failing to stay wide open as you nuzzled into his touch, the soft light of the lamp illuminating the whole hotel room, giving Shawn a soft yellow glow as the light bounces off his skin.

He looked so soft and cuddly with his scarf, his curls all unruly on top of his head with his cheeks adoring a little flush of pink, and that soft charming smile of his making you to just want to pull him back in bed and make him snuggle with you all night.

But he was already dressed, and he was looking forward to going to this bar they keep talking about here in Dublin, you didn't want to deprive him from exploring the city just because you're feeling a little bit under the weather.

You've had this headache for a couple of days now, but right now seemed to be the worse than the rest since it was accompanied by a slight runny nose and a light cough, and you're body just feels so tired to move.

Shawn has been watching you intently all this time too, making sure that you were a 100% okay, being the caring boyfriend that he always is. You always just give him a reassuring smile in response, telling him that you'll be good with just sleep and a few medications, not taking in his suggestion to going to the doctors since you don't want to be a burden.

Your boy already has a lot on his plate, you just don't want to add to it.

"I'm will be okay bub, don't worry about me and go be a 20-year-old." You spoke gently, voice hoarse and raspy like you haven't used it in days. Shawn frowned at this, now having second thoughts to leaving you here alone in the hotel when you aren't feeling all that well.

You knew what he was going to say next, the slight change in his demeanor just says it all, so you were quick to speak first. "I promise I'll call you if I need you Shawn. Now go and have fun tonight, we'll be leaving Dublin tomorrow anyway."

The curly boy pouted with a tilt of his head, looking at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes he can muster, "Why do I feel like you want to get rid of me?" He whined, but of course he knew you just want him to have fun, to not let you anchor him down to doing things that he wants to do, knowing that you'll beat yourself up if ever he didn't get to go out and have fun because of you.

So when you're sick and couldn't come with, you were quick to assure him that it was okay to go without you, and you're fine with it no matter what, no hidden tone in your voice whatsoever. You were supportive of him that way, you were an amazing girlfriend that way.

You always put him first just as how much he always puts you first, and Shawn couldn't have found anyone better to have in his life.

"If you keep annoying me then you might as well take this as that." You teased, but you could never get rid of this giant boy even if you wanted to, he's always attached to you by the hips, and also—though he does get extremely annoying at times—why would you want to get rid of that beautiful face?

"Okay fine, fine I'm going." Shawn stood up with a laugh, taking his phone, wallet and hotel key off the nightstand and shoving it in his pockets. Then he turned to face you again, face all serious with his index finger pointing at you as he added, "You have me on speed dial right?" You can't help but roll your eyes.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Okay, I'm going, you get some much needed rest and I love you so much my angel." He leaned down to give you another peck on the forehead then the tip of your nose. "And I love you more my prince. Have fun." You whispered, Shawn not being able to stop the smile from breaking out at the nickname you called him.

"I'll see you later tonight princess." And with that Shawn was rushing to the door, you hearing him call out, "I love you much more by the way!" before the door clicked behind him.

You shook your head with a giggle, he is such a dork no matter what, but he's you're dork, and you will be forever grateful for that.

***

"Yeah, goodnight Brian." Shawn chuckled, giving his best friend a small nod before pushing the hotel room door open. Shawn's night didn't go exactly as planned since they didn't get to go inside the bar being that he was under 21. Though they tried, the bouncer just wouldn't let up. Then again, rules are rules, and by no means is Shawn above the rules.

It irritated him at first, but looking back at it now even if it was just a few hours ago, the encounter was pretty funny indeed and he couldn't wait to tell you what had happened, couldn't wait to hear you laugh at his pouting ass when he complains to you how he couldn't get inside the bar.

So when he saw you still curled up in bed with your back facing him, hoodie pulled up to cover your head, the huge comforter covering you up to your shoulders, Shawn couldn't stop the smile from tugging at his lips. He always smiles whenever he lays eyes on you, whether it be on screen, a photo, or in physical form, Shawn's smile will always be there.

As quiet as he could, Shawn walked closer to your sleeping form, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he saw the covers shake in the slightest. "Baby?" He called out, gently sitting down on the bed, hand coming down to rest on your shoulder, and when he peered over to get a look of your face, Shawn's stomach dropped.

"(Y/N)." He stated louder this time grabbing your arm to turn your over, his eyes growing wide when he saw your extremely pale complexion, the color completely drained out of your face, lips parted slightly as it quivered, eyes shut tight with your whole body trembling. "Honey, wake up." Shawn tried to shake you awake, face frantic with worry and his heart beat picking up the pace when you still didn't respond.

"(Y/N) wake up!" Shawn screamed, hands going to cup your cheeks, "Shit!" He cursed once his skin touched yours, pulling the cover off of you as quick as he can as you continued to shake, skin burning with your breathing shallow and labored, frail body stiff and all curled up into a ball with your arms wrapped around yourself.

"Brian!" Shawn didn't waste any more time and sprinted to the door, almost yanking it off the hinges once he opened it, banging his fist frantically at his best friend's room next door that Brian opened it with panicked eyes. "Shawn what the–"

"I'm taking (Y/N) to the hospital. Go get Andrew, tell him to get a cab and met me downstairs." Shawn rushed out the sentence as fast as he could. Although slightly confused, Brian didn't ask any more questions once he took in Shawn's face, the ginger boy sprinting down the hall to do what Shawn told him to do.

Shawn was back inside your room in seconds, kneeling down on the bed with face contorted in worry as he scooped you up in his arms with ease, unable to calm himself down when he can practically feel the heat from your body seeping through yours and his clothes.

"It's okay angel, it's going to be okay." Shawn whispered as he pulled you closer to his chest, eye glossing up slightly, not sure if he was saying that to reassure you or himself. It was normal for any person to worry, but when it comes to you, Shawn worries a little too much than he should, but that's because he cares about you so much and he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you at any circumstance.

Once out of the room, Shawn was met by a confused looking Connor, but when the young boy's eyes landed on you in Shawn's arms, he was quick to get the drift and ran towards the elevator Shawn rushing just behind him. Connor pressed the button quickly but the elevator was just taking too long for Shawn's mentality, and you seemed to get worse by every second the passes by.

"Fuck it I'm taking the stairs. Connor, please check the rooms if they are securely locked." Shawn didn't wait for a response as he sprinted down the stairs, taking two flights in one go but making sure he was careful enough being that you were in his arms.

With heavy breaths and beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, Shawn finally reached the lobby and rushed to the hotel entrance, meeting a worried Brian along with a confused Andrew and Jake but when both pairs of eyes saw him and your state, they were quick to move as they hurried to open the door for him. Jake trying to keep the few fans–who still waited outside even at this hour–back as Brian opened the car door for Shawn, joining him in the backseat while Andrew sat upfront and told the driver to go to the nearest hospital.

Shawn cradled you on his lap, hugging your figure close to him as he whispered softly on your hot forehead, words of 'it's okay', 'I'm here', and 'I love you's coming out of his lips over and over again, eyes shut right as he tried his best to calm himself, to keep his tears at bay as he looks down at your still shaking body in his arms.

You still haven't woken up throughout, not a single word or a whisper or any signs that you were conscious, and this made Shawn only grew more and more anxious as his thoughts started to go down a darker lane that it should. And it may have only taken a few minutes, but the car ride was the longest he's ever felt he's been on his entire life.

***

"Help! Please!" Shawn cried out desperately once they burst through the hospital doors, a couple nurses rushing towards him with a hospital bed on their tail. Shawn placed you on the bed as gentle as he could, keeping himself by your side and never letting go of your hand until one of the nurses stopped him before he could even get through the emergency room doors.

"No no no please let me inside, I need to be with her, please." Shawn begged, eyes now slowly glistening with tears as his heart hammered against his rib cage, hands tugging at his hair in pure frustration when the nurse only shook her head no.

"Shawn it's okay, we'll wait here, she's going to be okay." Andrew's voice spoke from beside him, the curly headed boy looking at his manager, his friend with nothing but pain, worry and guilt in his eyes, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he himself starts to panic.

"Fuck I shouldn't have went out, I should've stayed wait her. I knew she was sick but still fucking went out." Shawn's breathing was getting harder to get a hold of as he paced back and forth, boots clicking against the white tiled floor as his hands tightened into fist on his sides, nails harshly digging into his palms.

"Shawn calm down." Andrew's words were just in and out of Shawn's ears as the boy continued to pace, his mind going a million miles per hours as every dark thought started to cloud him when the love of his life laid barely conscious on that hospital bed right now, him being so far away from her reach. He could've prevented this from happening, he could've been there for her, if only he stayed.

"Fuck! I shouldn't have left her all alone, this wouldn't have happened, this is my entire fucking fault!" Shawn's voice boomed against the white hospital walls, the young man running a frustrated hand through his hair as he bit his bottom lip harshly to stop it from trembling. What if something really bad is actually happening to her right now? What if this is even worse than it looks like? What if–

Shawn knew what was about to happen next when he felt his chest closing up, hand flying to clutch it as he panted, eyes wild and brimming with tears as his mind started to take a toll on him.

"Dude calm down and stop! None of this is your fault. And she's going to be fine, (Y/N) is a strong girl, remember that." Brian was quick to reassure his best friend, grabbing him by the shoulders to keep him still for a second, "Now breathe Shawn, breathe..." Shawn forced himself to closed his eyes as he followed Brian's voice, letting out slow and shaky breaths as he tried to composed himself slowly but surely, nodding at Brian as a sign of gratitude once he was able to breathe normally again.

"I'm just–I'm so fucking worried Bri, I don't want anything bad to happen to her." Shawn choked back a sobbed and Brian only gave him a small, sad but comforting smile, giving his arm a soft squeeze as he said, "And nothing will, just trust Shawn. She'll be alright."

Shawn only gave a small nod in response as he swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading the time as he felt the ticking of the round wall clock, hanging up just on top of the double doors slowly starting to taunt him, since now he has nothing else to do than wait.

***

The steady beeps of the heart rate monitor filled your ears as your eyes slowly fluttered open, but were quick to close again as the bright fluorescent lights stung too much for your liking. You stirred with a soft groan, blinking your eyes as it slowly adjusts to the glare of the room, you now being able to take in the unfamiliar room you were in.

You tried to move your hand, but much to no luck, it was held down by something or much rather someone, the gentle but rough skin against your palm already familiar to you for the millions of times you’ve held it before. And sure enough when you casted your eyes down, it landed on your peaceful looking boyfriend as he slept with slow breaths, mouth slightly parted with his lips lightly pressed against your knuckles, his gigantic hand wrapped around your tiny ones.

"Shawn?" You whispered, squeezing his hand with as much strength as you can muster since your body seemed to be too weak at the moment, but it still seemed to do the trick when he suddenly shot up, eyes wide and bloodshot as they landed on you, and this made your heart ache.

"My love, Hi, you're awake." A look of relief flashed across Shawn's face as he held your hand up to place a soft gentle kiss on your palm before placing it flat against his cheek, him leaning into your touch as he lets out a shaky breath. "You're okay." He whispered his voice raspy and tired as he looked at you with so much love in his eyes, but you can make out the tear stains on his cheek, and the small bags under his eyes was a dead giveaway.

"Shawn, you've been crying." You frowned at this, thumb stroking on his skin tenderly as you started to feel guilty for making him cry. You always hated to see him in distress, and to know that you were the main reason for it; it puts a heavy weight on your heart.

Shawn already saw the guilt flashing across your eyes, so he was quick to stand on his feet, rushing closer to your side so he can place a soft kiss on your forehead, a sweet smile grazing his lips once he pulled away, hand going to cup your cheek as he stared at you oh so tenderly, "Hey, it's okay angel, I'm okay. You know me, I was just so worried, that's all." You only pouted at him, Shawn giving it a quick peck earning a soft giggle from you, a giggle that he was so glad to hear again.

"You always worry too much Shawn." You sighed with a slight shake of your head in disbelief at your boy, a small chuckle leaving his lips and his answer has always been the same every time you say that phrase, "That's because I care about you so much (Y/N)." You nodded with a hum, tilting your head up so you can capture his lips with yours, Shawn grinning wide as he lets out a sigh of satisfaction.

Shawn will never get used to the taste of your lips, the feeling of those gorgeous plump lips pressed against his will always make his head spin.

"Also, you're distracting me. I was going to give you an earful when you wake up. I swear to God if you don't tell me exactly how you feel next time I'm going to be so mad." He growled against your lips jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness in his voice since he does mean it. He wants you to tell him exactly how you're feeling so that this won't happen again next time.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comment, and this made Shawn pull away fully with a stern look on his face, "Hey don’t you dare roll your eyes on me missy, you have me on speed dial and I told you to call me when you need me. You scared the shit out of me when I came back (Y/N). I was so fucking worried as to what has happened to you and I don't want to see you in a state like that ever again." Although he meant for it to firm so that you can get it in the pretty little head of yours, Shawn's voice broke a little in the end.

You sighed as you reached up to cup his face, a grateful yet reassuring smile on your lips as you pulled him back down, nudging the tip of your nose with his in a way that always made Shawn's heart warm. "I'm okay now Shawn, and I'm sorry if I made you worry bub, it won't happen again, I promise I'll let you know right away."

"It's okay princess. And I'm your boyfriend; I will always worry about you." Shawn smiled softly like a cute puppy a he nuzzled himself into your touch, eyes closing for a quick moment to appreciate the feeling of your soft skin against his own, the sight making your heart grow ten times its normal size.

"I know, and I love your worrying ass, every second of every day."

"And I love you and your gorgeous ass, every second of every day."

You shook your head with a joyous laugh, "Such a boy." You whispered, hand trailing farther up to run your fingers through his curls on the back of his head, a smirk slowly playing its way to Shawn's lips since that simple gesture always does things to him, and you know it.

"Hmm, but I'm your boy."

You didn't say anything more as you pulled him down for another kiss, sighs of pure content coming out the both of you as your lips fit together like two puzzles pieces, moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other.

Then again, you two are made for each other, to worry, to care, to have, to cherish and mostly importantly, to love.

-:-:-:-:- 

Like & Reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think! x

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Just let me know if you want to be added/removed from the permanent taglist loves <3

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 183

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 35 - “Nuts’s Key and Komachi’s Heart” Date watched: 4 May 2020 Original air date: 7 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/fqtuhS0 Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

What did I say about sunsets?

This episode has everything! Romance! Adventure! Characters having long and meaningful conversations about their past failings! A new villain! Dramatic sunsets! Bad art! The return of the winter uniforms signifying that it’s truly fall! Let’s dig in!

The Plot

Komachi is on pins and needles as Nuts reads the eighth revision of her novel. As we’ve learned, he’s a harsh critic, but when he finally puts it down, he has nothing but praise for it, and everyone is relieved, so they decide to celebrate by going shopping. Privately, Coco and Nuts argue over Nuts’s serious attitude and being bogged down by certain past mistakes. Meanwhile in Nightmare, Hadenya has the day off so Kawarino suggests that Bloody takes to the field instead. The senior executive does not take kindly to being ordered around, and insists he’ll do things his way after being buttered up.

The girls drop off Komachi’s manuscript at a mailbox and then head into the mall. Urara wants to go shopping for a new outfit for an appearance the next day, so Nozomi, Rin, Karen, and Coco go with her, while Komachi and Nuts head to a bookstore. At one point, Rin and Karen butt heads over what outfits they think would look good on Urara, in typical fashion. Nozomi and Coco branch off and have a small heart to heart of their own, while Komachi and Nuts discuss the importance of life while they wait at the meeting point. You know, just ordinary small talk.

However, their conversation is interrupted by Bloody himself, sitting at a piano. He presents a Kowaina mask as his business card and drops it on the floor, turning the entire room into a writhing mass of arms and blocking the exit. His objective is fairly clear, he wants the Dream Collet from Nuts, and then he’ll be on his way. Of course, it’s not that simple. Komachi transforms and fights the arms, but Bloody’s best attacks are not physical, but mental. He stays right were he’s at and informs Nuts that he was the one who destroyed the Palmier Kingdom, and he did it because it was his job. Nuts’s job was to protect the kingdom, and he failed at that, which makes him unsuitable to use the Dream Collet, so he should hand it over. He continues to assault Nuts’s psyche by reminding him that Nuts opened the door that allowed for the siege to begin with, and now that they’re involving innocent people from another world in their battle, this world could end up destroyed like the Palmier Kingdom. While all of this is going on, Nozomi, Rin, Urara, and Karen have found the blocked off room, and try to fight their way in.

Back inside, Nuts very nearly hands over the Collet, but Cure Mint reminds him that he has a dream to fulfill of reviving the Palmier Kingdom, and she starts arguing with Bloody over who is worthy to use its power. He insists that it should be used by the powerful, while she maintains that it should be used by someone who knows, fears, and respects its power. She uses Mint Shield to protect Nuts, but some repeated attacks by the arms manage to break her barrier. Hope seems lost when suddenly her teammates burst through the wall and declare that there’s nowhere they can’t or won’t go to save their friends. Without breaking a sweat, Bloody slyly asks if that’s the source of their power, and why don’t they show him exactly what they can do? Each of them performs their enhanced special attack: Aqua Tornado, Rouge Burning, Lemonade Shining, and Crystal Shoot, dispelling the Kowaina. Bloody smirks and disappears to fight another day.

At a later date, Komachi walks into Natts House after school. Nuts thanks her for saving him the other day, and admits that he’s not as mature as he thought, since he was ready to hand over the Dream Collet. He then turns the subject to Komachi’s writing, since he notices she looks a little sleep deprived. He tells her that writing is important, but not at the cost of her health, and he’ll read anything she writes to help her become the best author she can, so he wants her to prioritize her well-being to do so. Tears of joy well up in her eyes because of his kindness, and the scene transitions to Komachi writing in the library. Karen looks over her shoulder to see what she’s writing, and Komachi says that this story is about a lonely woman who meets someone who opens up her heart. (subtle) The episode closes on her beaming face.

The Analysis

This episode gives me a lot to talk about but for once, I’ll start with the villains instead of the heroes. Bloody is not a character I really remember anything about from my first watch-through of this show back in 2013 or so. He appeared in the Christmas episode I watched in my 2018 Christmas special but he didn’t leave much of an impression there. I’m worried about what that means for his trajectory, because in this episode, he’s fantastic. Without ever transforming or taking any direct actions other than turning the room into a Kowaina he presents a severe threat to the girls. He manages to separate them from each other, overpower and trap Mint, and he nearly convinces Nuts to hand over the Dream Collet just by reminding him of his past failures. Even when Dream and the other girls manage to break through his barrier, he takes it in stride where any other villain would have panicked. They say “We’re stronger when we’re together!” and he goads them into using their attacks, getting a read on them, learning what their abilities are and figuring out how to thwart them in future encounters. He knows when he’s lost the fight, but you definitely get the sense he’ll be using what he’s learned the next time he goes head to head with the girls... which, according to the wiki, isn’t until episode 41. Sigh. It’s a great introduction, anyway.

I also want to highlight the fact that he didn’t create a monster Kowaina out of an object like everyone else so far has done, but he turned the entire room into one, which makes for a much more challenging battle for the girls and is a tactic that I wish was used more often, in all seasons. Instead of there being a singular enemy to focus their attention on, even if it’s fast or durable, attacks can come from any direction using this strategy and you never know where to turn. Even if Mint was able to ward it off for a few minutes on her own, she also nearly succumbed and would have lost if her friends hadn’t shown up at the last minute. Maybe she would have been able to pull a narrow victory, we saw in the last episode what some good old determination can do, but also Bloody is a very different beast from Hadenya. His ability to talk his opponents down is just as impressive as his actual power, which we are told is immense, since he was able to destroy the Palmier Kingdom by himself.

It is never explicitly stated that a Kowaina’s power and abilities are reflective of the one who creates it, only the kind of mask used, but it does seem that Bloody, being in a league of his own, has more powerful monsters, so I do wonder if this is the case... Of course Gamao also has really strong monsters, his main obstacle is being a lazy sack of shit, but we’ll touch on that next time.

Bloody’s ability to get inside of people’s heads shakes Nuts to his core, and it exposes a side of him that we haven’t really seen before. Sure, he’s always been reserved, and we knew he blamed himself for the fall of the Palmier Kingdom when he let in a pinky that turned out to be Girinma, but over the last few episodes the rest of the puzzle is starting to come together. We learned in episode 31 that Hadenya was the one who hurt Nuts so badly he went into hibernation in the Dream Collet, and now we find out that Bloody was the one who leveled the kingdom itself. Nuts has a lot of trauma associated with this, because it all comes back to him. Even if nobody else blames him, he blames himself, and the depths of his angst are a pretty mature topic for a show aimed at a young audience. I applaud the capacity for this show to handle it in a serious way and not brush off his suffering. He’s deeply hurt, and he realizes at the end he’s been holding onto a lot of grief, and he truly appreciates Komachi’s help in beginning to overcome it.

This represents a major step forward in their relationship. They started out rather tense, when he heavily criticized her novel, but both of them have grown closer as Komachi has seen and encouraged the softness inside of him. Now, she stands up for him at his most vulnerable, reminds him that he isn’t worthless or a failure, and that his compassion makes him the perfect person to be caring for the pinkies. In return for her support in achieving his goals, he promises to help her in any way he can to achieve hers, which for Komachi means he’ll read all her story drafts and help her become a better writer. Komachi and Nuts’s relationship is built on a mutual agreement to help and uplift each other, while Nozomi and Coco’s is built on achieving the same goal, and Karen and Milk’s is mostly about helping Milk to become a better person.

In summary this episode is a great exploration of one of the underappreciated relationships from the series, with perhaps the best first outing by a villain in the entire series to this point, even topping Ilkubo’s first appearance. As normal for this leg of the series there is some pretty weak art scattered about but it’s not too prevalent. You can view some of the worst offenders in my gallery. I will say though, the camerawork around Bloody is interesting, he’s often framed in extreme closeups of his face, tilted at an angle, and frequently only half of his face is shown. I’m not sure WHY because he’s not terribly expressive, but it’s something that stuck out at me on my screenshot capturing rewatch.

For record keeping purposes, it is now October in the show and thus the girls are seen back in their winter school uniforms with the lightly colored dress and dark purple blazer.

Lastly, I would be remiss if I let this little visual nod go unmentioned. In one scene, Coco is very clearly wearing Gurren Lagann sunglasses:

Gurren Lagann, Gainax’s high energy salute to super robot anime and the show that put Imaishi Hiroyuki on the map, premiered in April of 2007, so the producers of this series had plenty of time to include this little homage. If you’re not familiar, the pointed, angular sunglasses are a trademark element of both the titular robot itself and one of the main characters.

I can’t say definitively that it’s a reference but the timing of it feels very deliberate, so I’m calling it one.

Next time on Precure Daily, Gamao gets one last chance to defeat the Precures. Will he succeed? (no) Come back to find out how he loses!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 Kettei!