#I’m slightly hysterical rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belabellissima · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 2!!!! I’m so excited!!!!!!

✨ desperate to cling to life regardless of how cruel it had been to the both of them.

💭 🥲there’s something heartbreakingly poetic about this line I gong know how else to describe it

✨ Whatever we have done, we did so unknowingly—”

“It was me,” she interrupted, before either of her sisters could add to the hysterics…

💭 ooohhhHHHHHHH THATS A CHANGE!!!!!!!!!! 👀👀👀👀 as heartbreaking as Feyre’s self deprecation is it’s also so exciting to see how she’s jumping right in and stopping tamlin from the get go

✨ “It was a wolf,” she said, desperate. “Grey coat. Yellow eyes. I killed him.”

💭that’s definitely one way to get his attention 😂

✨ If there was any trace of relief in their expressions, she’d prefer to die without seeing it.

💭🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲😭😭😭😭😭

WAIT A MINUTE HOLD ON- IF RHYS IS THE MERCENARY AND NESTA HIRED THE MERCENARY TO TAKE HER TO THE WALL DOES THAT MEAN SHES HOING TO HIRE RHYS IN THIS????IS HE GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH BC HES A FAERIE??????🤯🤯🤯

Anyway back to the actual fic 😅

Okay the next one is that whole passage when she’s preparing to leave - HE HASNT OFFERED HER THE LOOPHOLE/CHOICE TO LIVE IN THIS VERSION!!!!! SHE REALLY THINKS THESE WILL BE HER LAST WORDS ALIVE AND THAT SHES GOING TO DIE IM😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

✨ It was good, she thought, that he’d be doing it away from the house. By morning, the snow will have buried whatever was left of her that the creatures of the wood didn’t pick apart. Her family would never need to see the evidence. And one day, perhaps not very far in the future, Nesta’s cruel words would be true. There would be no one left to remember that she had ever existed.

💭oh look there it is😅 I was early with my emotions but theyre still going strong lmao 😂

Wait but that means Nesta wouldn’t know to hire the mercenary to come get her OH MY GOD THEYLL ACTUALLY THINK SHES DEAD😭💔

Okay time to find a new theory lmao

✨ But then the beast’s ears flickered, and a moment later, she heard a pair of boots crushing snow on the other side of the thicket. The beast snarled in warning, circling around Feyre almost protectively.

And then he appeared.

💭AAAAAAAAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HES GOING TO SAVE HER?!?! Or get taken tooo?😂

✨ “High Lord,” he crooned to the beast, inclining his head slightly.

💭… oh his dick is big I Know it’s big

✨ Her blood ran cold. This was not the first time Rhys had encountered this High Lord. The implications were mind-whirling—that Rhysand, a human mercenary, had once stared down a High Lord and lived to tell the tale. Had made such an impression that the beast would sneer his full name as if it was poisoned.

💭this whole interaction has me screaming it’s just so good!!!!!! Feyre’s confusion, Rhys being a little shit, tamlin being both furious and quite possibly terrified at how quickly Rhys discovered them, ahhh *chefs kiss*

✨ “What a pretty prize you’ve captured. Intend to smuggle her across the wall, do you?”

💭Rhys rn:

(okay he looks more like Gaston than I’d hoped but eh)

✨ Leave, Rhys,” the beast commanded, positioning himself in front of Feyre the same way she had shielded her sisters in the cabin. Like in this situation, Rhys was the one threatening her safety. “This doesn’t concern you.”

💭god there’s so many layers to this and everyone has different goals here and it’s just 👏🏼 so 👏🏼 GOOD 👏🏼

✨ Her eyes met Rhysand’s, raising the poker to communicate her intentions. With the beast’s focus, the mercenary didn’t dare nod. But she could see the understanding that crossed his expression. They might only be delaying the inevitable, but at least they could give each other a fighting chance.

💭ARE THEY GOING TO KILL TAMLIN IM!!!!!! (Or at least attack hahaha)

✨ But before she could protest, or plead for him not to leave her behind,

💭 *starts humming* wherever you go please take me

Okay are they going to go to Prythian on their own🥺🥺🥺 running for their lives… only one bed… can’t let the high lord or high queen catch up to us🥺🥺🥺 I’m emotional.

✨ I told you I’ve been employed by a local lord,” Rhys murmured,

💭LOR D NO LAN!!??????!! Oh the twists keep coming I love this so much

✨ Feyre,” she whispered. “My name’s Feyre.”

The mercenary paused in his step. He looked down at her, lips parting open. Up close, she thought the moonlight softened his eyes, its reflection a glimmer of starlight against the roiling violet sky.

“Pretty name,” he said, softer than she’d heard his voice before. “It suits you.”

Pretty. He was starting to make a habit of calling her that.

💭THIS IS WHERE THE SNIPPET IS FROM??? HES LITERALLY HOLDING HER IN HIS ARMS!!!!!! IM SOBBING 😭 Rhys almost lost her and she’s injured but for one moment he thinks everything is okay because he’s now heard her name for the first time😭😭😭

✨ Rhysand began moving again. “You could say my job has made me well known in Prythian.”

💭 Rhys I s2g your half truths are hilarious

This chapter was so freaking good as always and I’m losing my mind!!! I had so many theories pop up and disappear as I read and that’s always one of my favorite parts of reading, and to see how it’s all playing out is 💯💯💯

We Bleed the Same - (2/?)

Summary: The forest was a labyrinth of snow and ice... The beginning to a story we know, unfolded a little bit differently.

A gift for @belabellissima for the @acotargiftexchange. You own my heart 💝

Read on AO3 ・Previous Chapter

Feyre was fourteen the first time she’d taken the life of another living creature.

A rabbit, not yet fully matured, a bit thin from winter. It had eyes like charcoal, round and darting with fear. Fear that Feyre had felt pumping through every squirming limb of its small body, desperate to cling to life regardless of how cruel it had been to the both of them.

Feyre had been prepared for the blood. She knew all living things bled. But the knife had slid through the rabbit’s throat with none of the resistance that should accompany the act of killing. It shouldn’t be easy—but it was. The rabbit went limp, and Feyre was left with the dreadful knowledge that she and the rabbit weren’t simply mortal. They were fragile.

The rabbit’s blood dribbled onto the snow in a stain that would linger despite the many storms that passed through the forest. Spring and summer and autumn and winter again, that first kill remained, the first bloom of hollowness in Feyre’s chest, weeping and spreading with every new winter like the ruby blood against the perfect white snow.

If only she could one day return to the girl she’d been before that first kill. The Feyre who had not killed the rabbit would be someone different, likely someone dead, but death sounded more ideal by the minute.

The Feyre who never killed that rabbit certainly would never have encountered this—a faerie beast the shape of a wolf and roughly the size of a horse, lodging its antlered head through the carnage of what used to be their front door. Its gummy lips pulled back to expose fangs the length of her thumb, and she knew they could cut through skin as easily as she had once slit that rabbit’s throat.

Narrowed jade green eyes swept across each of her family’s terror-stricken faces, and it was all Feyre could do not to stumble backwards from the sheer force of its roar as it bellowed, “MURDERERS!”

Feyre, iron poker braced in a closed fist, was all that stood between her family and the beast. She didn’t recall exactly how the cold, rusted metal had gotten into her hand. The first few moments of the beast’s arrival were a blur of fractured wood and screaming. All she knew was that she’d been consumed by the single-minded goal of putting a barrier between her family and the faerie.

Blistering cold cascaded into the room, biting into the metal at her palm. She wasn’t certain if the legend about the fae’s aversion to iron was even true. She should have asked Rhys—should have swallowed her pride and hired his protection, if only for the night.

She spared a glance over her shoulder. Her sisters were cowering against the wall of the hearth, their father now awake and crouched in front of them. He looked like he was preparing to become fodder to the beast’s claws if it gave Nesta and Elain a chance to run. Feyre swallowed down her hurt that no such protection, or care, was extended towards her. After all, she’d killed the faerie and inadvertently lured the beast here. It was only right that she bought her family time to escape.

Keeping the table between herself and the beast, Feyre ventured a step forward. Her eyes slid to the bow and quiver propped near the door, on the other side of the beast. She’d need to get around him to reach her ash arrow. And somehow buy herself time to fire it.

“MURDERERS!” The beast snarled again, hackles raised.

“P-please,” Feyre’s father babbled from behind. “Whatever we have done, we did so unknowingly—”

“It was me,” she interrupted, before either of her sisters could add to the hysterics and further invite the beast’s ire. She raised the iron poker defensively, slowly circling the table as she held the beast’s gaze.

Look at me. Focus on me. Forget about them.

If she could reach the door, she might be able to dart out, convince it to chase her and leave her family alone. Besides, it would be better to die in the woods. It would feel right. Repaying the blood she’d spilled in the forest again and again over the years, giving it back to the earth.

The beast’s cold eyes slid over her, startling jade against his golden fur and yellow teeth. “You lie,” he growled, head swiveling to narrow his gaze on her sobbing sisters. He sniffed, then curled his lips back to bear his sharp teeth. “To save them.”

“We didn’t kill anything!” Elain wept. “Please… please, spare us!”

Nesta hushed her sharply through her own sobbing, but pushed Elain farther behind her. Feyre’s chest caved in at the sight of it.

The beast’s hind legs lowered, muscles coiling as though preparing to launch himself right over Feyre and the kitchen table. Towards her sisters. No—no. She took another step forward, the glint of iron catching his attention as she brandished it higher.

“It was a wolf,” she said, desperate. “Grey coat. Yellow eyes. I killed him.”

He bellowed in response, and the entire cottage shook. Plates and cups rattled against one another. He pressed a giant paw onto the table, and it groaned beneath his weight. Feyre’s eyes darted to his long, vicious claws as they embedded into the wood, one by one.

“You.” He surveyed Feyre again, and she knew he was taking in her gaunt face, her thin arms. Thin, but still stronger than her frail sisters and injured father. She hoped he could notice that much through his anger. “How?”

It was less of a question and more of a demand.

She stared into those jade eyes and squared her shoulders. “An ash arrow.” She wouldn’t let her eyes flicker to the bow in the corner of her vision. “I didn’t—” I didn’t know, but that was a lie. She’d known what it was when she’d released her drawstring. “What payment can we offer in exchange?”

The beast pushed closer, snarling teeth drawing inches from her face. His hot breath curled over her cheeks. “The payment you must offer is the one demanded by the Treaty between our realms.”

Rhys hadn’t mentioned anything about the Treaty. She knew one existed, an agreement between humans and faeries drafted long ago. If recollection served, it had been written after the War that had liberated humans from faerie rule, resulting in the Wall that was raised to protect humankind. Feyre had vague memories of being read the Treaty during her childhood lessons, but could recall nothing about wolves.

But there was one childhood lesson Feyre had not forgotten: faeries couldn’t lie. They were all taught that an ancient magic bound the words of the fae, preventing them from uttering an untruth. Though faeries were experts at manipulating the truth with crafty, clever sentences, it meant there must be some validity to the beast’s claim, some clause in the Treaty that she couldn’t remember or which had simply been lost to time.

Dread sunk heavily in her chest, which was only worsened by the proximity of his teeth, inching so close to her face that Feyre could see the firelight gleaming against his canines. If those teeth lunged for her throat, would her family still try to fight?

She knew—with a sudden clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. She wouldn’t do the same for their father, whom Nesta had always resented with her entire, steely heart. Nor would she try to help Feyre, because Nesta had always known and hated that they were two sides of the same coin and that Feyre could fight her own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart. Nesta would be dragged onto Death’s doorstep scratching and clawing for Elain. And if Feyre could buy them enough time, she could trust that Nesta would find a way to get Elain far, far away from here.

Though she already suspected the answer, Feyre didn’t need to feign the shake in her voice as she asked, “What is the payment the Treaty requires?”

His eyes didn’t leave her face, holding himself still even as she raised the poker towards his throat. “A life for a life. Any unprovoked attacks on faerie-kind by humans are to be paid only by a human life in exchange.”

Nesta and Elain quieted their weeping. How had Rhys neglected to mention that?

It won’t take long for its kind to come sniffing.

What name might I inquire to ensure you’re still alive in a week’s time?

Maybe he had. Not explicitly, but he warned her they’d be coming. That the choice she’d made in that forest would court death. Had he been generous with his coin to give her a fighting chance or because he planned to take it off her corpse once this faerie left Feyre and her family in ribbons?

“They had nothing to do with it. Kill me if the Treaty demands, but let them live.” Feyre wasn’t brave enough to look over her shoulder. If there was any trace of relief in their expressions, she’d prefer to die without seeing it. “But… not here.” Not where her family would have to wash away the blood and gore. “Do it outside.”

The faerie huffed a vicious laugh. He opened his mouth, but then his eyes lifted over her shoulder. And Feyre flinched as a bony hand closed over her arm.

“P-please, good sir—Feyre is my youngest. I beseech you to spare her. She is all… she is all…” Whatever her father meant to say died in his throat as the beast roared again, blowing damp heat into their faces.

“Silence,” the creature snapped.

To her father’s credit, he didn’t recoil from the bared teeth, though his eyes fixed on the trail of saliva connecting the beast’s upper teeth to his lower jaw. Her father swallowed, hard. “I can get gold—”

The beast sneered. “How much is your daughter’s life worth to you? Do you think it equates to a sum?”

Her father didn’t have a response to that. Feyre glanced over her shoulder, staring past his cowering frame to meet Nesta’s eyes. She still held Elain behind her, whose coloring now matched the snow drifting in from the open door. Nesta’s expression said she knew father’s answer, even if he didn’t say it.

It was to Nesta that Feyre said, “The venison should hold you for two weeks. Start on the fresh meat, then work your way through to the jerky—you know how to make it.”

“Feyre—” father breathed, but she recoiled from his touch, taking a step away from him and the beast. Toward the door.

She continued, “I left the money from the pelts on the dresser. It will last you for a time, if you’re careful. When spring comes, hunt in the groves just south of the big bend in Silverspring Creek—the big rabbits make their warrens there. Ask… ask Isaac Hale to show you how to make snares. I taught him last year.”

Nesta nodded, her face cold and unrelenting. There was no sorrow in her eyes, no gratitude, but for once there was no hatred, either. Just a shared understanding that they would both do whatever was necessary to ensure that Elain survived.

“Whatever you do,” Feyre added quietly, “Don’t marry Tomas Mandray. His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it.”

Her eldest sister stiffened but said nothing—both of them said absolutely nothing—as Feyre turned toward the open door, ignoring her father weakly calling after her. The beast eased off the dining table to follow, and any lingering hope she had of fighting died as he moved to the quiver beside the door, sniffed, and snapped the arrows in half with a violent swipe of his paw.

Feyre’s fingers had gone stiff around the iron poker. He didn’t demand she put it down, even as she walked into the night-shrouded winter. His lack of reaction told her all she needed about its effectiveness, but it was a creature comfort in her palm, like the ward markings and the protective bracelets around her sisters’ wrists.

Snow crunched underfoot as the beast led her into the woods. It was good, she thought, that he’d be doing it away from the house. By morning, the snow will have buried whatever was left of her that the creatures of the wood didn’t pick apart. Her family would never need to see the evidence. And one day, perhaps not very far in the future, Nesta’s cruel words would be true. There would be no one left to remember that she had ever existed.

She didn’t dare glance back at the cottage, terrified of what she’d find. If she turned her head, would it be worse to see her family standing outside to watch, or to learn that they were still huddled inside? It was better not to know as she kept her eyes trained toward the line of trees, every step too swift, too light, too soon carrying her to whatever torment and misery awaited.

“There’s another way,” the beast said as they entered the woods. Darkness beckoned beyond. “The Treaty states that Prythian must claim your life in some way, for the life you took from it. So as a representative of the immortal realm, I can either gut you here, or… you can cross the wall and live out the remainder of your days in Prythian.”

Feyre blinked. “What?”

He said slowly, “You can either die tonight, or offer your life to Prythian by living in it forever, forsaking the human realm.”

Feyre thought she’d be better off dying tonight than living in pure terror across the Wall, where she’d doubtlessly meet her end in a more gruesome way.

“I have lands,” the faerie said quietly—almost reluctantly. “I will grant you permission to live there.”

And it was a fool’s question, but she had already followed him into the woods, already consented to die. She couldn’t help blurting, “Why bother?”

“You have the nerve to question my generosity?”

Yes, she thought. Because it didn’t make sense. She had murdered his kind, without remorse or provocation. And she could not understand a life in Prythian, on his lands, that would treat her tolerably for what she had done.

But even if misery awaited her…

At least it meant she would survive, and maybe one day find the chance to escape. As long as the faeries couldn’t find her again, they couldn’t hold her to the Treaty. She opened her mouth, prepared to accept his mercy. But then the beast’s ears flickered, and a moment later, she heard a pair of boots crushing snow on the other side of the thicket. The beast snarled in warning, circling around Feyre almost protectively.

And then he appeared.

Her eyes strained to see the figure dressed in black, blending like ink into the shadows. Even as he stepped into the moonlight, the night clung to him, obscuring half his face. But that was all she needed to catch the tilt of his lips, the gleam in his violet eye. She couldn’t contain her gasp of recognition.

Rhys kept his attention trained on the beast. She didn’t register the crossbow in his hands until he raised it to his face, its iron bow a streak of silver against the mantle of darkness at his back.

“High Lord,” he crooned to the beast, inclining his head slightly.

The earth tilted beneath her. High Lord. Not just any beast, or representative of Prythian, as he had called himself, but a High Lord who ruled one of its seven territories. A creature of unprecedented power, capable of sundering their meager village with half a thought.

She did not know how Rhys knew, if there was some marking on the beast that gave it away. Perhaps the elf-like horns that protruded from its head, or a power radiating from him that she had not learned how to sense.

The beast’s claws curled into the snow, digging up clumps of dirt. His voice was laced with the promise of violence as he growled, “Rhysand.”

Her blood ran cold. This was not the first time Rhys had encountered this High Lord. The implications were mind-whirling—that Rhysand, a human mercenary, had once stared down a High Lord and lived to tell the tale. Had made such an impression that the beast would sneer his full name as if it was poisoned.

At least now she knew Rhys hadn’t been lying when he told her his name.

Rhysand smiled, heartbreaking in its beauty. His bolt remained trained at the beast’s head as his gaze slid to Feyre, eying her for any sign of injury. His eyes seemed to scream, play along, as he purred, “What a pretty prize you’ve captured. Intend to smuggle her across the wall, do you?”

“Leave, Rhys,” the beast commanded, positioning himself in front of Feyre the same way she had shielded her sisters in the cabin. Like in this situation, Rhys was the one threatening her safety. “This doesn’t concern you.”

The mercenary ignored him in favor of nodding at the iron poker in Feyre’s hand. “That won’t do you any good, I’m afraid. The only thing that can cause any real harm is ash.” Ash, like the wooden bolt loaded in his crossbow, if she had to guess. Her fingers tightened around the handle regardless. “If you were wise, you would be screaming and running while we’re distracted.”

He held her eyes, willing her to understand. Wind howled through the trees, whistling in her vacant mind. Run—she understood that much, though she doubted she’d make it far in the woods without her cape, which she left in the cottage, thinking she was walking to her death. Already, frosted air crept beneath her thin tunic, biting at her exposed skin. It didn’t help that she had a death grip on a piece of icy metal…

Oh.

“You have seconds, Rhys,” the beast warned.

Rhysand’s eyes gleamed with feral delight. “Is that so?”

The High Lord bristled at the arrogance, the utter irreverence of a human standing before one of the most powerful beings in existence. Feyre wished she could summon even an ounce of that courage as she watched the beast’s lithe body coil with wrath, signaling every mortal instinct in her body to flee. His lips curled back into a deadly snarl, one that promised the mercenary was moments away from greeting Death with that charming smile. Surely one ash bolt was not enough to subdue a High Lord of Prythian.

It didn’t matter. If Rhys wanted to invite his rage to give her time to run, he could be her guest. His taunting meant the High Lord was so focused on Rhysand, he didn’t bother to monitor his quarry. And Feyre was so thin, so small compared to the beast’s horse-like stature, that it likely hadn’t occurred to him to treat her as a threat. She wouldn’t let the oversight go to waste.

Her eyes met Rhysand’s, raising the poker to communicate her intentions. With the beast’s focus, the mercenary didn’t dare nod. But she could see the understanding that crossed his expression. They might only be delaying the inevitable, but at least they could give each other a fighting chance.

Feyre wrapped both hands around the poker, ignoring how her body trembled as she raised it over her shoulder—the way those debtors had done all those years ago, when she’d watched them cripple her father with a similar weapon. Air whipped against the iron as she brought it down, and the sound gave the beast enough warning that he turned, allowing her to strike him across his face.

Just as Rhysand had warned, the iron had no effect—besides redirecting the High Lord’s anger towards her. The reverberation of the strike sent her stumbling backward, but not fast enough to avoid the slash of his unforgiving paw. Sharp nails collided with her shoulder, and her body flew back from the sheer force. Feyre thought she might have been briefly airborne before she landed, hard, and skidded several feet in an eruption of snow.

Pain seared through the entire left side of her body, as if it had been plunged in flame, and she struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked from her lungs. She was too disoriented to see what happened, but she knew Rhys must have taken advantage of the beast’s momentary distraction, because she heard the distant snap of the crossbow firing, the resulting roar.

Then, a pair of sturdy hands grasped Feyre from under the arms, pulling her upright. “You’re okay,” Rhys breathed, despite how she hissed at the subtle movement. She knew she was bleeding, and she wasn’t yet brave enough to glance at her mauled skin to gauge just how lethal her injury was. “You did good.”

Feyre tried to peer behind him, searching for the beast. Was he dead? A High Lord taken out by just one measly ash bolt?

“We have to run,” he said, answering her unspoken question.

Given that she could hardly stand on her own, her chances of outrunning a High Lord weren’t very promising. But before she could protest, or plead for him not to leave her behind, Rhysand was scooping an arm beneath her knees and lifting her to his chest as if she weighed nothing at all. She supposed she couldn’t be much heavier than the equipment a mercenary usually carried.

“Just hold on,” he said.

Then the world became a blur of darkness. Maybe it was the blood loss going to her head, but she swore the world warped around them as he ran. Snow and shadow swirled together, roaring past. The forest fell away, and only Rhys remained, gripping her tightly as she clung to him. Like she very well might fall through the earth if he let go.

Eventually, the darkness stopped churning, and Rhys slowed to a stop in front of a stone guardhouse. It was attached to a towering wall that rose in either direction, so high that she had to crane her neck to spy the spikes jutting from its top.

“Where are we?”

Rhysand nodded to the twelve guards standing at the gate, as if he knew them. They were all armed, their faces hidden beneath thick helmets. Their bodies were equally covered in plated armor, right down to their boots. At Rhysand’s approach, the gates they were protecting split open, revealing a sprawling darkness in every direction. Farmland, Feyre realized. Fields and pastures as far as she could see, protected within the safety of the high walls. And somewhere beyond, visible in the night only by the warmth glowing through its slit windows, was a large stone fortress.

“I told you I’ve been employed by a local lord,” Rhys murmured, walking down the long, frozen road towards the keep in the distance. “I knew the fae would come back for you. So after meeting you in the market, I spoke with him, and Lord Nolan decided to grant your family sanctuary.”

Lord Nolan… A familiar name, perhaps one that graced the social circles her family used to run in, before they’d lost their fortune. She would be wary of the unusual generosity another time. For now—

“My family,” she whispered, clutching his shirt into a fist. “Rhys—my family! We have to go back.”

Rhys met her eyes, and the look he gave her was so disarming that Feyre smoothed her palm over his chest. His sternum rose and fell against her fingers, steady despite the running. And if she concentrated, she could feel his heart thrumming beneath his skin, not nearly as erratic as her own.

“They’re already here,” he soothed.

Her brows drew together, and she shook her head, refusing to be lied to, manipulated—

He chuckled at her expression. “You think I came alone? I’m flattered you think I’m so capable. There was a group of us. We came to your cottage first, found your family trembling in the wreckage. Then we saw the tracks leading into the woods. The others assumed you were dead and didn’t want to risk the men to confirm it.”

“You came after me by yourself?”

Flakes of drifting snow landed on his hair, melting before she could marvel at the fragile beauty of it. But his smile, quiet with admiration—that stayed long enough to tempt her to cling to the waking world, even as darkness lurked in her periphery, promising relief from the pain.

“A little huntress like you? I knew you wouldn’t be dead.”

Feyre wasn’t sure why that made her eyes sting. No one else had been willing to come after her, not even her family. But this stranger she’d met in the marketplace, this lunatic… She bit her lip, knowing the blood loss must truly be getting to her as she sniffed, grateful she could blame her runny nose on the cold.

“Feyre,” she whispered. “My name’s Feyre.”

“Pretty name,” he said, softer than she’d heard his voice before. “It suits you.”

Pretty. He was starting to make a habit of calling her that. She was too exhausted for the shyness to creep in, and any blood that might have rushed to her cheeks was too busy spilling from her arm and shoulder. She only sighed, resting her head against his chest. His body was hard and warm, her only comfort against the pressing cold.

“Speaking of names,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as she breathed in the scent of rain and salt and citrus. “How did the beast know yours?”

Rhysand began moving again. “You could say my job has made me well known in Prythian.”

Feyre let herself sag into his hold. She hadn’t realized how heavy her body had become until she stopped trying to lift it. And now that she’d shut her eyes, the simple act of prying them open was exhausting. With an exerting amount of effort, she managed to get them half-lidded, peering at him as she asked dryly, “Renown for saving maidens?”

“Well, all those stories about handsome, roguish heroes needed to be inspired by someone, hmm?”

She must have closed her eyes again, must have dozed, because the next time she peered between her lashes, she watched Rhys lower her onto a bed, golden sconces flickering behind his head. His knuckles skimmed a trail of heat over her cheekbone, and it was too much effort to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

“Sleep, Feyre,” he said, the velvet of his voice lapping over her, a gentle tide coaxing her back into that deep, warm abyss. A comfortable weight settled over her, accompanied by the smell of citrus and the sea, beaconing her down, down, down. She followed without resistance, trusting his honey-laced words as he promised, “You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

#IM SCREAMING THIS WAS SO GOOD #I WASNT EVEN OVER THE FIRST CHAPTER YET AND THIS BEAUTY ARRIVED???#😭😭😭💝💝💝#also no You own My heart💝

31 notes · View notes

jungwnies · 3 years ago

Text

❥ prompt ゛how txt reacts to someone saying "when's the wedding" to them and their s/o

❥ warning ゛gut wrenching, teeth rotting, aboniable fluff ❥ requested ゛yes, (i love this request tysm anon)

❥ author's note ゛i am so excited to write this cute ask omgomgomg, tysm for putting things in my inbox, it really puts a smile on my face :D

❥ ゛please keep in mind that these are my opinions on their reactions! ♡ ❥ ゛like, comment, reblog, and remember to follow if you like my writes! ✌︎

ᝰ yeonjun

˒ yeonjun and you would be out having dinner with his parents, since they haven’t seen him in a while ˒ yeonjun wanted you to come along because, “y/n, my mom adores you.” ˒ you agreed, because who turns down seeing their boyfriend’s parents, especially when you guys get along ˒ it would be a simple dinner at his parents house, and you were gathered around a table ˒ yeonjun besides you, his mom in front of you, and his father in front of him

“y/n, it’s been a while since we’ve seen you!” his mom says with a big smile on her face

you nod, “it has, i’m do glad to see you!”

*reference (yeonjun’s mom calls him “healing”)

“healing-ah, are you on another diet?” his mom asks him putting food onto his plate

yeonjun slightly chuckles, ㅎㅎㅎ

“i tell him to eat whatever he wants all the time, but he says he needs to stop eating so much” you say laughing at his mother who continues to put food onto his plate

yeonjun’s dad tell his wife to relax with the food, since yeonjun’s plate now looked like it could feed a village of vikings

“okay, let’s eat!” his mom tells everyone

yeonjun begins to peel his shrimp but struggles, you grab the shrimp from his hand and peel it for him, putting it in his mouth

his parents watch you guys intently, “yeonjun-ah, when’s the wedding?” his dad asks with an eye smile

yeonjun chokes on the shrimp, and you choke on your saliva, “dad, i’m still so young” yeonjun says clearing his throat

his mom laughs, “it’s never too early to get married, plus we want grandkids”

you clear your throat, a warmth spreading across your cheeks, yeonjun’s face already a tint of pink

yeonjun grabs your hand and raises it slightly looking at you, “maybe one day i’ll put a ring on your finger, but it’s a little too early.”

ᝰ soobin

�� (i think this might be my fave scenario w/ soobin rn) ˒ you and soobin were with eachother for a long time, 3 years to be exact. ˒ everyone knew, the whole world ˒ the relationship was public unlike anyone elses ˒ however you guys weren’t too flashy with your relationship ˒ soobin and the rest of the members went onto wired to answer some questions ˒ soobin knew there were gonna be some questions about you, so he made sure that if there were he would make sure not to expose anything about you two too much ˒ the other members also agreed not to expose too much ˒ the questions were pretty normal, until they got to the “is?” section of the questionnaire

soobin peels off the covering on one of the questions and begins to read it out loud, “is soobin married?”

the members begin to hysterically laugh, “yeah hyung are you married?” hyuka would ask, lady to fall off of his chair

soobin’s face turns bright red, and he starts laughing covering his face, “guys stop, stop.”

“soobin-ah, when’s the wedding?” yeonjun asks giving him a light shove on the chair

soobin’s face stays bright red as he continues to laugh, shyly

“i’m too young to be married” soobin says embarrassed

“i want to be the best-man” beomgyu would say cracking up

taehyun looks to the camera, “y/n, if you’re watching this maybe you’ll tell us when the wedding is”

the boys continue to laugh in their chair, soobin puts his head down

moments later they all contain theirselves, “okay let’s keep going with the questions” yeonjun would say gesturing towards the board full of questions

ᝰ beomgyu

˒ beomgyu would be on a v-live talking to MOA (as per usual) ˒ “i’m trying my best to read all the comments” beomgyu would say while looking closely at the comment section ˒ beomgyu read some questions out loud, laughed at some, and gave the camera a weird stare for weird questions ˒ people knew about the two of yours relationship, but no one really asked or questioned it as they respected how private the two of you were about it ˒ “where’s y/n?” he would read aloud ˒ “sleeping, y/n is sleeping” beomgyu would say continuing to read through the comments ˒ one comments especially caught his eye

“when’s the wedding?” beomgyu would read outloud

beomgyu begins clapping, whilst laughing at the same time

“guys, don’t you think it’s too early for marriage?”

beomgyu continues to read through the comments, now everyone was asking about a wedding, if he’d marry you, or something about how cute the wedding would be if he got married to you

“ah, guys, stop with the marriage comments, it’s too early” beomgyu would say laughing and waving his hand at the camera

“do you want to marry her one day?” beomgyu would read out loud

beomgyu smiles at the camera, widely (please imagine his smile LMFAO)

“of course, maybe one day”

ᝰ taehyun

˒ txt would be featured on another showterview (feat. JESSI) ˒ txt would be answering some of jessi’s questions ˒ jessi asked taehyun a few questions about you, and ofc he did not mind answering them ˒ jessi respected what he was willing to answer and not willing to answer ˒ yeonjun would tell jessi about how cute you and taehyun are ˒ “y/n and taehyun are my favorite couple, they’re so sweet to each other” ˒ taehyun would laugh and agree ˒ the other members would boast about you and how respectful you are with them ˒ they talked about how you were fun and chill to be around

“wow, it seems like you guys really like her!” jessi would say smiling

the members would nod and give taehyun a pat on the back

“when’s the wedding then?” jessi would look at taehyun with a playful look

taehyun chuckles as the members crack up, “not for a while, i’m too young”

taehyun smiles as the blush on his face begins to appear of the thought of you walking down the aisle

(taehyun handles this well!)

ᝰ huening kai

˒ huening kai would be hanging out with his sisters ˒ his sisters and you all got along, and they were happy to see their brother with someone like you ˒ his sisters tend to ask about you a lot since hyuka tells them almost everything ˒ his sisters care about him a lot, but they also really love you too

“kai, how are you and y/n these days?” lea would ask suddenly

“we’re good” hyuka would reply back

all three siblings on their phones, yet still talking

“i saw you posted a tiktok with her recently, it was so cute” bahiyyih would say scrolling through her for you page

hyuka would blush, “i guess it was kinda cute, right?”

lea would giggle and nod, “you guys should get married,”

“i can see it, when’s the wedding?” bahiyyih would add

hyuka laughs, “i’m too young!”

bahiyyih laughs as well as lea, “age is just a concept, you can get married whenever you want”

hyuka develops a blush on his face, “maybe one day”

“it better be with y/n, i love her” bahiyyih says slapping her brother on the arm

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wandaromanova · 3 years ago

Note

hello bestie!!! congrats on 3k, you more than deserve it, for soft hours, can i request anything that's food themed with wanda? could be wanda stealing r's food or the other way around or wanda and r cooking or anything related to food bc im vv hungry rn 😂

Warnings: sexual joke

blurb requests are closed | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎────────────────❅•

You had just picked up some food from your favorite diner. It was right down the street from the Compound, which meant you bought food from there quite often. So, you settled down on the couch, sitting right beside your girlfriend.

You wiggled in your seat as you opened up the container of food, the delicious smell filling your senses. Wanda laughed at your silliness, sitting up slightly as you immediately dug in. You had ordered a burger and fries.

Yes, it’s an extremely basic meal, but you could swear that no other diner could create such a simple burger as perfectly as that restaurant did.

“I swear you look happier to see that burger than you do to see me.” Wanda teased as she watched you take a large bite of the burger. You turned your head to look at the Sokovian, sending her a glare.

“Well, it tastes good.” You shrugged, taking another bite and closing your eyes with a dramatic groan. Wanda raised her eyebrow at you, a faux look of offense across her features.

“And I don’t?”

You choked on your food, taken aback by your girlfriend’s response. You went into a coughing fit and it took a minute to recover. The brunette hysterically laughed, throwing her head back as her body shook from the force of her laughter.

“Gee, thanks for checking if I was okay.” You grumbled, shoving a fry into your mouth. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to come down from her laughing fit.

“Any time, baby.” You rolled your eyes once more, feigning annoyance.

A silence fell upon you two, that was until your girlfriend reached over and snatched a fry from your plate. Your eyes immediately darted to her, glaring as she popped the fry into her mouth.

“Hey! I asked if you wanted anything before I left!” You complained as the Sokovian smirked at you.

“Well, I’m not hungry enough to have my own food, but I am hungry enough to have some of yours. Wanda smiled smugly as you stared at her incredulously.

“But… it’s my food.”

You pouted and the brunette chuckled. The brunette stood up, moving to sit in your lap, your arms instinctively going around her waist.

“No, it’s our food.”

There was no room for argument, her tone an indication of that. So, you let Wanda eat some of your fries, taking an occasional bite of your burger.

The Sokovian fed you as well as herself, wiping your face with a napkin every once in a while. The two of you watched the random sitcom Wanda had put on.

In all honesty, you weren’t paying attention to the screen, too focused on the beautiful woman who sat in your lap. You squeezed her waist, gaining Wanda’s attention. She looked down as you smiled up at her.

“I love you, food thief.”

“I love you too, and hey! The only thing I’ve ever stolen is your heart.”

“Ew, that was gross. Never say that again.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

taglist: @perfectromanoff @celestialcat44 @aliancvnas @marvelwomenslut @chaekhan @rvselie @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @prentisshoe @mcubreakdown101 @yeetus-thyself @multiyfandomgirl40 @007giu @weelight @scotts-orange-slices @puppy-danvers2016 @acertainredhead @jdougl-love @mindofwesley @lostandsearching @tquick99 @rachel146 @illloveyou @thewidowsghost @uraveragelonelygay @wandasgirlfriend @sapphic-stress @olicity-boo @iliketozoneout @suki-is-a-queen @xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @olsensnpm @hagridsmomma @blurryylines @yeeterthekeeper @midnight-lestrange @maximoff-jp @tomatonugget @mrs-avenger3000 @wandadarlingg @wandanatblogs @simpfornatasharomanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @grxvitye @hunka-hulka-burnin-fudge @clipreads @kathleenmikaelson @lightsaberfights @frvny @catasha

#3k blurb night #it’s soft hours #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff blurb

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dreamsclock · 4 years ago

Note

MENTOR DREAM!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!! BIG BROTHER DREAM AND LITTLE BROTHER RANBOO MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE!!!

Dream has a moment of weakness the night before the final confrontation. Well, little brother Ranboo gives him comfort and Dream, knowing what happens when he loses, gives Ranboo his final two lessons:

Lesson 99: Sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself to save everyone you love.

Lesson 100: I love you, Ranboo. You're going to do something great.

i couldn’t resist - endersmile duo content is my JAM rn, and i had to write something based on this when it almost made me cry :’)

warnings: death, mental deterioration, angst, hurt no comfort

Dream knows his lessons are harsh. They’re meant to be.

And not in a mean way (though he knows they often come off as mean anyway), but sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, and he knows his methods of teaching are much, much kinder than the lessons the SMP would and will teach Ranboo. He should know - how many lessons had he taught them? How many lessons had he been taught by them?

(Lesson 27: Do not reminisce on what you have lost for it will weigh you down.)

(His eyes dart to an open pasture.)

(He turns away.)

But Ranboo is a good kid, despite his mischievous nature and affinity for being a persuasive little shit. He reminds Dream of Tommy when he’d been younger - although much less chaotic and much less of a pain in his ass, he has to admit. Ranboo has been there for him time after time when Dream’s paranoia had gotten the best of him; had been there when Dream had come back furious and hurt and lost and losing his grasp on what little sanity he had left, there to pull him back from the edge and coax him into breathing, just breathing, and pushing through a little longer.

In turn, Dream had turned to mentoring him, because fuck, if he can’t make it out of here alive, then maybe his little brother can. The server likes Ranboo, sometimes, and he’s confident that when he’s dead and gone, Ranboo will slip under their suspicions and blend right in - nobody will ever even suspect he’s still on his side.

(He tries not to think about Doomsday, when he’d slipped up, lost his verbal footing in his hysterical triumph and called Ranboo a traitor in front of everyone. He remembers the eyes swiveling to Ranboo, remembers the hot burst of shame in his chest after realizing what he’d done.)

(Fuck, he wants the kid to survive this.)

And his moments of good mentoring - actual, sound advice coming from a man with nothing to lose - are few and far between now, because yeah, he’s not afraid (he is) to admit he’s losing it, but his brother sticks loyally by him anyway, doesn’t utter a word when Dream paces away the night and mutters plan after plan to himself under his breath. He watches, he comforts, he helps, and, when Dream actually blurts something useful out, he’ll write it down, per Dream’s request.

The last lessons come on the eve of the finale.

Dream knows he’s going to die.

(He thinks Ranboo does too.)

“Lesson ninety-nine,” Dream says, halting where he’d been pacing for the past three hours and turning to face Ranboo, imperceptible behind his mask, “sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself to save everyone you love.”

Ranboo’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t like this line of thought. “Odd lesson to teach me, considering what’s happening tomorrow,” he replies, frowning, “you better not be implying anything. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream’s laugh is strained, slightly hysterical. “How can I do anything stupid when I’m going to win?” He asks, and it feels hollow. He knows he’s already lost, a long long time ago: whether he wins or loses tomorrow is no difference, not really. Lose, and he dies. Win, and his last shred of sanity slips away and he controls the server. He can unite them all, if at the cost of Tubbo’s life and Tommy’s freedom and his own mind. “You’re being dumb.”

“Mmm. I don’t think so,” is Ranboo’s suspicious answer, and Dream knows he’s prying, Dream knows Ranboo wants him to open up, wants them to have one last heart-to-heart before tomorrow hits and takes whatever of Dream is left, be it his body or his mind, but instead he swallows, turning to face the window with a heavy heart and a strange burning feeling in his throat that he thinks might be tears.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells him, evasive, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before I go, okay?”

And when Ranboo sighs and teleports away to his makeshift little room in Dream’s crude little house (less of a house than a bunker, he thinks, Prime, it’s been so long since he’s had a house, he misses it), Dream smiles, tight lipped, despairingly, because Ranboo has forgotten Lesson 53 doesn’t just apply to everyone, it applies to everyone and Dream.

He’s not going to see Ranboo tomorrow. He’s leaving now. And, stiffening his shoulders in resolve, Dream blinks when he catches sight of a familiar book lying on the table, forgotten in the tension before tomorrow. It’s Ranboo’s lesson book.

Pausing, he scribbles something down on a page, unable to help himself, before leaving in a hurry, chugging a potion and yanking his cloak from the door as he leaves. He has one final disk war planned, and he has to get there early.

(Ranboo finds Lesson 100 in his book weeks later, when he discovers it lying innocently in Dream’s old bunker. Heart breaking, throat burning, he brushes his fingertips over the scrawl.

Lesson 100: I love you, Ranboo. You're going to do something great.

And for the first time, he lets himself grieve who Dream could have been.)

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#> mentor endersmile au #tw death #tw mental deterioration #tw angst #tw hurt no comfort

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 3 years ago

Text

tuesday again 5/3/22

fucking doozy of a making section

listening: Pink Panther by Scene Queen. i have been awaiting this for some time bc she did a very sensible and well thought out social media campaign across literally every platform several months before this dropped, which is how i ran across it in the process of looking up things on tik tok for work. every fucking day my job gets harder and harder to explain unless you are also in this extremely specific entertainment/tech brainrot corner of capitalism.

anyway this is an EXTREMELY horny song i love it a lot. contains the lyrics “don’t call you know i can’t answer/gettin pussy like the pink panther”. very early aughts! very ke$ha, very charlie’s angels, very D.E.B.S. if ANYONE else on this godforsaken gay nostalgia website has seen that movie.

there is in fact a very fun sample of the pink panther theme in this pop? metal? pop song with a headbanging interlude? song

youtube

reading: fallow week

watching: also fallow week

playing: through an elaborate game of friend barter i have acquired a switch and breath of the wild. it is fucking hysterical to me how much this is just skyrim but good and how much genshin impact is just breath of the wild but with some tits and a lot of ass. it’s also screamingly funny to me that breath of the wild has made about a billion and a half since launch and genshin made 2.1B its first year. just on mobile. so much appetite for these kinds of games (big open world rpg-lite with puzzle solving and kind of grindy mob-based combat) but they’re hysterically expensive to make.

said “oh fuck that’s the guy” out loud when i spotted prince sidon through the ol binocs, he does not have the personality or voice acting i was led to believe

im having a slightly frustrating time mostly bc i don’t really have the hand dexterity to do combos and i didn’t grow up with controllers. it’s easier to map things to separate keyboard keys, although mouse and keyboard is quite hard on the wrists. actually my problem is probably that it’s slightly more brainpower than i want to give to a game rn.

really looking forward to playing a bunch of visual novels in bed this winter. maximum coze

making: im extremely stressed due to a combination of work and life and not balancing them very well lately. so im buying a bunch of house shit bc it is college grad season so half the people in this area are going home or otherwise moving and looking to ditch their shit.

the first and most important thing is that a new evil lair has been rented. this will be the first place where i am the only one on the lease and it comes unfurnished. i will be slowly moving in, as i did last year, bc this current above-the-second-floor apartment’s stairs are quite bad for the knees. hopefully everything i can pick up by myself will (at minimum) be in a storage unit by the time my sister comes up memorial day weekend to help me move things that don’t fit in my car. the tuesdayposts may be a little light on content for the next four to six weeks.

i am annoyed i have to pay double rent for a month and a half, and i am annoyed i spent a bunch of money in march for some shit that was Extremely specific to making this apartment nicer (like idk i’m gonna need an eight foot ladder in the new place, which was not built in the 1800s and has somewhat low ceilings and way fewer windows, also there isn’t really a good place to put my swiss dot and pom pom trim cafe curtains :(

anyway here are some objects and very few pictures of things i acquired last week from paying attention to craigslist curb alerts: huge pile of frames, a milk glass object, and this floor lamp. which i think is brass plated and desperately needs a new shade. project for future kay. maybe i’ll get really into lampshades next who knows. my new living room has no good ceiling light so between this and the big green lamp and i guess the plant lights that’ll have to do it

disGOSTang. v excited to get that weird shellac and all that grime off.

some objects i acquired from a moving sale but have no pics of bc they Immediately went into the storage unit: microwave, another little pyrex strage container (glass lid!), a cool vase, a brass vase holder thing, a campaign dresser/nightstand thing that is mostly made out of real wood (may hold out for a 1920s style waterfall dresser with the rounded nose, bc i fear with the brass bed AND a campaign dresser my bedroom may look a little too apartment therapy)

“kay what’s the deal with you and brass?”

well

i feel like brass implies that at least some minimum baseline of thought and effort has been put into an object. i like how mellow and warm it looks. i think it’s an easier finish to decorate around than steel or “oiled bronze” which is usually just treated steel but we don’t have time to get into that. i also like how it leans industrial without going full steampunk. also i hate trying to clean verdigris without ruining it.

also here’s a good post about recreational labor from tumblr user hellenhighwater that made something in my brain go “ping”

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #didn't proofread this one even a little bit #you may be asking: wait kay you proofread these? when i have time yeah but yeah i do fewer clarity edits than i really need probably

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

peeping tom(mina)

— Mina finds a peephole in her room that looks directly into your room and discovers a sight that slightly rocks her entire life.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: ashido mina x fem!reader

warning: 18+, smut, voyeur!mina, mutual masturbation, vibrator, dildos, finger fucking, cursing, peephole, lesbianism

word count: 2,815

a/n: sorry its a day late!!!! have some pervy roommate mina rn and some abo shiggy in about a few hours!!!!

kinktober day 11 main kink: voyeurism | kinktober masterlist

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Mina has a dirty secret.

And just thinking about it makes her shy, and she has never been a shy girl.

Since she could fully understand what sex was, she had always been someone who was incredibly sex-positive. Mina was also a full-body worshiper, someone who found everyone’s bodies hot and attractive. It never really surprised anyone when they found this out. She was always the type to point out how that person’s ass looked hot in jeans, or how that shirt made that person’s boobs look full, soft, and luscious. She held back at absolutely nothing, making sure to let everyone know her opinion on how and why she currently found them attractive.

So the ones she would eventually bring to bed were also unsurprised by the enthusiasm she held when she kissed down their bodies, fingers massaging every piece of skin and muscle as she moaned praises. To Mina, bodies were a temple, and when she was visiting, she was going to make sure you knew how fascinating she thought it to be.

Even now, at twenty-two, she never hated pointing out what she thought to be positive about people’s bodies. It was almost second nature.

“Can you please tell me why your legs look hot as fuck in those sweats?!” Mina practically screamed, dramatically fanning herself when you walked into the kitchen.

It was Saturday night, and Mina found herself in her apartment, blinds are drawn open, blankets were strewn around the living room, and hot homemade food sizzling on the stove. You were her roommate, and you’ve been her roommate for about seven months now. Both of you had met in a college class, being paired up multiple times for a few projects in the year had created an unlikely friendship that resulted in a roommate contract because you were moving to Tokyo after graduation, and hey! So was Mina!

You snorted by the stove, flipping the sweet crepes you had been making for the both of you in the pan. Turning your head to look at Mina, you playfully winked at her, posing your body in faux-seductive ways while you dipped your head back.

“What can I say, the sweats of a heartbroken ex always look hotter on a champions fat ass.”

Mina laughed loudly, her hands bringing her sweet rosé to her lips, taking a long, deep drink of the alcoholic beverage. “I can’t believe you keep your exes clothes! I burn all of mine,” Mina states as if the two of you hadn’t already had this conversation a thousand times.

“I don’t think you can talk!” you scoff, spatula in hand, flipping the light sweet into a roll. “You’re the one who goes and buys actual metals for every successive man you fuck! And you have sooo many metals!”

Also, something that had been repeated a million times, and yet never failed to get either one of you two in some laughing flush.

“I do have so many metals,” Mina sighs, the grin on her face bright and proud while you walk over, crepes in hand. Thanking you for the food, Mina waited for you to settle down next to her before resuming the movie the two of you had decided to watch. “I promise, y/n, if you just look a guy in the eye and tell him you like his shoulders and his thighs, you’ll get him in bed in a blink of an eye.”

You hum, taking a chug of the rosé straight from the bottle, releasing it with a small pop that made Mina’s eyes rest on your swollen, wet lips.

“Yeah, no. You see, I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff,” you admit, taking a bite from the crepe as the movie slowly becomes background noise.

“You haven’t dated anyone since high school,” Mina more than points out, tugging at the indeed high school logoed sweatpants. “That was like, four years ago, and you don’t sleep around?! What is it? You waiting for the Prince of some unknown country to come and wed you without you realizing he’s a prince? I mean, you can totally do that, especially with that hot bod of yours, but I know all the princes our age, none of them are even remotely hot!”

Mina watched as your eyes dropped to your food, the smile on your face small, maybe a bit... sad?

“It’s not that,” you shrugged, your eyes moving to lock on Mina. “Mina, I’m gay.”

What?

Processing Data…

Data Processed. Please Continue.

“WHAT?!”

A shit-eating grin spread on your face, and you nodded, taking another gulp of the rosé and shoving more crepe in your mouth.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU ALLOWED ME TO HAVE HETEROSEXUAL SEX WITH YOU IN THE APARTMENT AND DIDN’T TELL ME?!” Mina shrieked, suddenly mortified with her actions as her fingers clenched her curly pink hair. “WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE MEN I TRIED HOOKING YOU UP WITH?! I mean, I know you didn’t fuck any of them, which ended up all fine because I would have cried if Kiri, Denki, or Sero stopped showing up.”

“Mina!” you laughed.

“I can’t believe you allowed me to force men on you; I’m so sorry, sweetie!”

Mina froze when your warm fingers suddenly grabbed onto hers, pulling her cold palms near your chest as your slightly glazed with alcohol eyes took her in.

“Listen, Mina, I’ll say this once, and I’ll repeat this. I didn’t tell you because I don’t care to share my sexuality. Not only that but all those men you introduced me to almost made me wish I was straight! Almost, but they’re a bit too…” Mina watched you trail off, your hammering heart a gentle smooth on her fingers.

“Stupid?” Mina tried, and you laughed as you nodded.

“Yeah, stupid.”

Mina gulped, her head nodding while you finally let go of her hands and sighed.

“Don’t be weird about it, Pinky,” you muse, shoving your shoulder against her. “I won’t hit on ya.”

Mina scoffed, clearly offended, “I think you should, though, my body is hot, and my kisses are just as good.”

It was said in jest, and Mina’s heart fluttered at the way you laughed with her in good spirits. That was normal, right?

Eventually, the contents of the rosé disappeared between the two of you, the movie long done, and the crepes sitting warm and sweet in your stomachs. Mina smiled brightly as she waved at you a simple goodnight as she needed to reorganize her snacks cabinet. Hearing the small click of your room door, Mina slumped against the counter, a weird feeling in her brain at the sudden revelation from you.

It didn’t make you any different in her eyes, she wasn’t a bigot, but there was something different.

Something new.

The cabinet wasn’t fixed up at all, Mina’s attention span forbidding her from reorganizing the cabinet until she turned off the lights and dragged her feet back into her room, conveniently located directly next to yours.

The apartment layout was weird.

Instead of a typical hallway separating the two rooms, it was a single, thin wall.

Now, Mina would categorize herself as many things, but dramatic was never one of them. But the way she had slammed her door in an attempt to clear the muggy storm of her thoughts might have been dramatic of her. Maybe a bit too dramatic.

A loud tear came from the right side of her room, and Mina gasped loudly as the shelf showcasing her plethora of medals for all her sexual conquests tore the wall as it fell off. Stupid heavy bitch! Racing over to the wall, Mina frantically grabbed at the tearing cheap wallpaper, her eyes wide with worry as she tried to fix the shelf to no avail.

“M-Mina, are you okay?” a gasped breath came from the direct another side of the wall.

“It’s all good!” Mina laughed loudly, her heart pounding because she was going to confess what was going on the second you asked again, as you usually do. But the only thing that followed was the roaring of her blood and heart as she stared at the wall.

Weird.

Mina didn’t dwell on it for too long, her hands throwing the medals off the shelf and onto the bed as she picked at the wall. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

She grazed the center of the wall and watched in horror as the wall crumbled at the touch, and she bit her tongue to keep from hysterically sobbing as a hole opened up from your room to hers. All things considered, it wasn’t a big hole, no bigger than the diameter of her pinky, but it was still a hole in the wall.

Despite the crack in the wall, Mina swore or prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Pressing to the hole, she peered in and froze immediately.

There weren’t many things in the world that made Mina freeze, but this was one of them. Her eye pressed to the wall saw that you were on the bed. Your sweats dropped around your ankles, shirt bunched above your breasts so that your fingers twisted and pulled at your nipples. The other hand held a vibrator to your clit.

Your face was scrunched up, the low hum of the vibrator suddenly piercing through the small crack in the wall, alerting Mina of a straight fire that erupted between her thighs as she watched you fuck yourself. The arch of your back when you come off the mattress makes her thighs rub together, and how your lips part in what she knows to be the most delicious moan, she’s ever managed to hear.

Mina isn’t sure when you stop masturbating that night, or even more importantly: when her panties became as fucking wet as they are.

She manages to put the shelf back onto the wall, her face absolutely red as she turns off the lights, ashamed to even go to the bathroom despite the discomfort of the slick between her folds. She dreams of having your mouth between her legs that night.

It doesn’t stop there, Mina’s ashamed to admit.

As a matter of fact, she’s probably obsessed.

She definitely didn’t keep her ear to the wall, desperately waiting to hear the low hum of the vibrator through the wall. She definitely didn’t pull the still broken shelf from the wall to peer through that crack to watch as you fucked yourself. She definitely does not, and she means, does not rub her fingers against her clit as she watches you.

But what was she currently doing when she heard the all too familiar consistent humming of one of your plenty of vibrators? She was stumbling off her bed, throwing the shelf off the wall, and using the crack in the wall to stare into your room. Except as she now unashamedly moved her fingers into her swats, fingertips grazing her already humming clit, she froze at the new sight she saw.

Typically, when you masturbated, you would lay along your bed. Your body laid out flat from the side for Mina to see. She never actually saw the slick of your cunt, or the way your pretty cunt would look like as you fucked yourself against a dildo. But today? Oh god, today was different.

You were propped up against the wall, your legs pressed open for Mina to see in all your glory. Your slicked, pretty pussy revealed for her eyes, and your head leaning against the wall as she watched.

Mina moaned as her fingers began to rub her clit, the already fluttering, simmering sensation radiating from her bundle of nerves too tight, too demanding to ignore. She circled her clit as your fingers dipped into your core, and she bit her lower lip at the refined look of elation that wiped over your face.

Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, and Mina was hooked on the very exact angle your fingers were going in. Her mind wandering as she imagined that it was her in there with you. That it was her holding her fingers to your cunt, and not just fantasizes that drove her insane. Mina gasped as suddenly the dormant warmth in her legs sparked into a growing fire that made her legs shake and had her resting her forehead upon the wall.

Her eyes struggled to open when your feet kicked up off the mattress, toes curled to the balls of your feet as you keened loudly. A whimper left her lips at the way you moaned, the soft, beautiful sounds making Mina sink an impatient hand in her core.

She fucked herself, her eyes fluttering, lips gasping for air as she pressing her warm fingers against her even warmer walls. Mina gasped your name, her eyes trying to focus on that wall, and was absolutely frozen at the sight she saw next.

You were holding a double ended dildo to your cunt, fucking your sopping wet cunt that Mina swore she could hear from her room. The vibrator was still on your clit, and Mina snapped her hips further, stronger into her scissoring fingers. It felt like you were teasing her with the toy as if you knew she was watching in and were teasing and testing her limits. Mina could feel herself shoving that dildo as far up her cunt as she could get it, her hands holding on to your beautiful thighs and bringing you in so that your slick cunts could grind against each other, fuck each other properly. If her brain wasn’t so muddled, she wouldn’t be thinking you were looking at her right now through the peephole, and she wouldn’t be thinking about the million different ways she’d fuck you given the opportunity. She wondered if you had a strap. Would you wear it if her fantasies were to ever come true? Would she?

Mina couldn’t dwell on the secrets she wished to know because suddenly, you let out one of the loudest, most lewd moans Mina had ever heard emitted from your swollen lips. The slick of her heat and the wet of her essence easily letting her fingers glide about her clenching walls with practiced, well-known ease. You gasped, your eyes fluttering to the back of your head as your hand holding the dildo became more frantic, sloppier, before stopping altogether, and although you had reached an orgasm — Mina swore she saw god.

Your orgasmic euphoric face was unlike anything Mina had ever seen.

The flustered, quiet pleasure reeking from every small line in your face, the way your mouth dropped just enough so that your pink tongue was on full display, the way you fought between biting down on your lip or letting yourself moan in your high. But it was the way your eyes crossed that sent Mina’s forehead slamming against her fist on the wall, muting the way Mina felt her walls clench wildly and tightly around her curled, lithe fingers.

She breathed in her descent, her cheeks burning with the same and bliss she always felt after orgasming. It wasn’t fair she came so soon watching you fuck yourself, especially as she knew she typically took so long in bed with men to make cum.

“Do you want to try it out?” your voice slipped into the room, and Mina froze, her blood suddenly turning ice cold. Her eyes snapped back to the dirty peephole to see that you were, in fact, staring into the hole, hand sliding the dildo into your cunt still, still willing and ready to go more round. “It gets a little lonely putting on a show for you night after night, Mina, and for you to never come and collect your prize.”

Mina swallowed, her eyes blinking owlishly at the way you shifted forward, turning so that your ass was in the air, knees, and chest on the mattress.

You knew.

“Come and collect your prize, please.”

“Y-Yes!”

Mina learned two things that night.

One: she especially and equally enjoyed having listless amounts of body worship mantra on her skin. The feeling of wet lips and hot breathes with things she was so used to giving made her cum around your pretty little fingers much more than she’d ever thought possible.

Two: you had known after the first night that she had caught you masturbating. Apparently, Mina was much louder than she thought herself to be, and when whining your name — she doesn’t remember even speaking — you had known and did all you could to finally getting your impulsive roommate to fuck you.

Oh, and I guess there is one more thing too!

Three: Mina had the absolute hots for you and was going to take you out for a proper date, tomorrow.

#mina x reader #mina smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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haghottie420 · 3 years ago

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The Gang Has A Chill Time Smoke Sesh

AKA my head-canons for what these assholes do when they’re stoned. Written while stoned (shoutout mental illness for letting me get a medical card😇😇). I’ve been itching to write them in some way and I have way too much adhd to start a whole fic rn. Hope you love reading this little stoned piece as much as I loved writing it!

MAC:

In high school, Mac was fascinated with learning about this cool (and very pretty) curly haired, blue-eyed, kinda buff actually, guy that suddenly wanted to be his friend. Mac wasn’t ignorant to the world as to believe the weed had nothing to do with it, but he always wants to give Dennis the benefit of the doubt. It’s those goddamned blue eyes. One of Mac’s early, sure-fire ways to touch Dennis was brushing their fingers when he’d pass Dennis the joint. Dennis’ hands have always been sturdy with long fingers. Mac would leave little room for Dennis to pluck the joint from between Mac’s sweaty. fingers so that Mac could savor in the feeling of his soft skin.

When Dennis was at Penn, at first, Mac didn’t want to get high without him. It felt like they formed a sacred bond over it and that bond should be respected, you know? Or at least, that’s how he explained it to Charlie the first weekend Dennis didn’t come home and Charlie wanted to smoke.

“Dude,” Charlie says, “please smoke with me. You cannot handle huffing as much glue as me without dying.”

Mac is stung at first. He could huff as much glue as he wants! But a more smarter part of him knows Charlie is just looking out for him. He decides to feel touched instead.

“Bro, you know I love you. I just-”

“Don’t want to smoke without your boyfriend. Blah blah blah.” Charlie says exasperatedly.

“It just doesn’t feel right to do without him.” Mac says quietly, looking at his scuffed up second-hand adidas.

“Look,” Charlie says in exasperation. “Let’s get this bitch on the phone so we can get stoned, dude.”

Before Mac gets an answer out, Charlie is dialing the phone in Dennis’ dorm room. Dennis picks up after three rings. Mac can hear soft Jazz and a faint slurping sound.

“It’s Dennis,” comes a rough voice on the other end.

“Den? It’s Mac and Charlie.” Mac says, now hearing the music lower and the wet sounds stop.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Dennis sounds like he’s been shouting. “Make it quick because I’m banging a hot chick.” At this, there’s a laugh that doesn’t sound like Dennis. Mac barrels forward. The more fast he can get off this call, the less he has to deal with this sinking feeling in his gut.

“This is going to sound so silly but can we like, smoke weed when you’re not here?” Charlie is mouthing the word “silly” to himself.

“Dude, you guys haven’t been smoking without me?! I’m on weed and poppers!” Dennis’ laugh is slightly hysterical but Mac can now chalk it up to the drugs. There’s a sudden static ‘whooshing’ sound, Dennis must have put his hand over the receiver. Mac can faintly hear that voice from before much closer. It doesn’t sound like Dennis is talking to a girl.

“Look, guys, I gotta go.” Dennis finally says. “I’ll see you guys next weekend. In the meantime please smoke some weed! And save me some!”

Dennis hangs up before Mac and Charlie can say goodbye.

Mac and Dennis kiss when they’re stoned, okay?! Jeez, you didn’t have to fight Mac about it so hard to get it out of him. It’s not like he’s trying to hide that it happened he’s just like, trying to get it back now that he’s speaking as a Gay Man. Dennis strictly drinks. Which Mac knows tenses him up and stresses him out. The only darkly funny thing about it is he calls it “Irish Catholic Sober.” Dennis has outright refused weed from Mac lately. Mac decides to pull a solo scheme. A badass genius plan to get Dennis to fall into his beefy arms and blow smoke into his mouth like a sexy evil. dragon.

Mac pulls it off on a Friday night. He left the bar early enough to go home, shower, wax his asshole and prepare himself before Dennis texted to say he’ll be home soon. Mac is splayed on the couch, shorts revealing the shamrock tattoo on his thigh. His tee shirt, a relic of a Dennis past, is far too tight on his current muscles. Briefly, Mac wonders if he should be worried. Given Dennis’ family history, he stands a chance at having a major heart attack at the sight of Mac’s sexy body. But before Mac can ponder this fear further, the door swings open.

Dennis is mid-rant, now taking it from a whisper to a shout, “Stupid fucking suburban traffic. ‘We can’t go to the Trader Joe’s in Center City, Den! It’s too crowded and I slept with too many guys who work there.’ Stupid Mac and his stupid hot body.”

Mac flushes both defensively and in a horny kind of way. He clears his throat. Dennis jumps and drops a whole head of lettuce. It rolls in front of him. as his jaw drops, taking in Mac’s whole outfit situation.Then he takes in the whole ‘joint in Mac’s mouth’ situation.

“Dude.” Dennis slams the door behind him. “At least wait until I close the goddamn door!”

When Dennis turns back around, he gestures to Mac still smoking seductively on the couch. “What is this? What kind of scheme are you running, Mac? Trying to make one of your boy-toys jealous?”

Dennis sounds bitter and Mac does not expect this.

“Bro,” Mac says softly, “I’m your boy-toy.”

Dennis looks up sharply, gripping the grocery bag tightly. “Do you mean that?” He drops the bag and crosses the room, taking the joint from Mac’s hand prissily. His inhale is long and desperate.

“Yes, Den. This is real. And all yours.” Mac wiggles his eyebrows. Dennis snuffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. He leans in before Mac even realizes what’s happening. Their lips touch--Dennis is wearing bubblegum lip-balm today. The kiss is over so suddenly, that Mac almost doesn’t notice that Dennis stole his entire joint hit right from his goddamn mouth.

DENNIS:

His anxiety PEAKS the first ten minutes into his high but it’s fine! He’s feeling totally fucking chill. His smile is strained? His red face is flushed? His left leg is BOUNCING w/ anxious energy? You’re imagining it. Dennis is cool as a fucking cucumber. The coolest. Like a cucumber stored in a negative eighty degrees celsius freezer where he’d store lab samples at Penn. Dennis admired how time seemed to just stop there, in that painfully cold freezer. He also admired how it was the best place to stash his weed in a pinch. Helloooo preserved herb! Dennis is as cool as hash frozen at negative eighty degrees celsius. So, every time someone asks if he’s cool (he’s hiding it so fucking well how do these idiots know?!) he immediately says, “yeah, yeah bro. yeah I’m chill. I’m just like...vibes~*” and stares off into the distance until the convo inevitably moves onto sewer pirate treasure or a scheme to get Mac on Queer Eye to upgrade his and Dennis’ apartment. And Frank would say, “why is it when I say it, it’s a ‘slur.’” And Mac would say, “Frank! We talked about this so many goddamn times--” And Dennis would have enough time to gather himself together.

Once his anxiety subsides, he’s totally blissed tf out. Starts becoming WAY chatty, philosophical and flirty. Think, deeply closeted sorority girl constantly trying to suggest spin the bottle at chapter meetings. Or like Needy and Jennifer playing boyfriend/girlfriend. Dennis would just regress to going through rituals with slightly less fanfare as an excuse to touch Mac (and also probs Charlie we’re all multiship friendly). Stoned Dennis is self-aware in ways that Drunk Dennis nor Hungover Dennis could even compete with. It was a time that he let himself have a taste of what he wanted. The flirting would start innocent enough.

“Kings?” Mac asks, puzzled. He’s holding the deck of cards between his thumb and his pointer finger as if the cards might bite him. If Dennis were not absolutely zooted, he might have yelled back impatiently. But here, in his current fuzzy state, Dennis feels he can take his time. He saddles closer to Mac at the bar in one fluid motion, making sure to let their fingers lightly brush as he slips the cards out of Mac’s hand.

“Kings.” Dennis confirms in Mac’s ear with a hot puff of air. Mac shivers.

“It’s just us though, bro.” He points to the empty bar as if that’s some sort of decent excuse. But Dennis is feeling kind this evening. Magnanimous even.

“Alright,” Dennis assures softly, keeping his voice a low rumble. After blowing into Mac’s ear, Dennis continues, “I’ll call in Charlie.” In a flash, Dennis is a few barstools over, calling out in his normal speaking tone for Charlie in the back office.

“What is it, man? I’m really busy back here.”

“Mac and I want you to join our game of Kings.”

“Oh, dude. Are you stoned?” Charlie wrinkles his eyes at Dennis as if he can see physical evidence of his inebriation (which he won’t, because Dennis has massive amounts of control over his body). Charlie continues louder now, “Is this one of those games where I have to watch you two make out again? Because I’m really not in the mood.”

If Dennis weren’t in winged sandals flying too close to the sun, he might have buried his head in his hands at Charlie’s bluntness. But Stoned Dennis is elated that Charlie made this game so much easier for him. Getting Mac to fuck him tonight will be so goddamn easy.

“You know what, Mac?” Dennis says, eyes wide. “Charlie’s right. This is going to be a game where we make-out. Wanna go play it at home?”

DEE:

ALWAYS bums weed from the guys. Because they’re idiots who always have weed. Why the shit wouldn’t she take advantage of that situation. The guys always got real protective over their self-proclaimed ‘stoner status’ and the second Dee claimed they were being uncool, they’d mumble to each other and cough up a nug or two. They never gave her one of Mac’s joints. She tuned out the reason why but it was something along the lines of her being an unappreciative dumb bird. When they get on a roll like that, Dennis especially, she lets them have it. It’s kind of sad that they rely on misogyny to appropriately express their gay ass feelings but Dee grew up with her goddamn mother so she is good at tuning out what she doesn’t want to hear.

All of her angry energy just leaves her body. Her shoulders visibly sag, her jaw unclenches and the line that’s constantly between her eyebrows smooths out. When she sees herself in the mirror, she feels ten years younger. Like maybe she’s looking at a version of herself that could have been different. One that could have succeeded in everything she wanted to be. One that was better. Then, inevitably, Dennis would spy her wistfulness and if he’s in his pre-high anxiety attack, he’ll dig in his sharp little bitch nails.

“Whatcha thinking about, Sweet Dee?” Dennis says, eyes wide and panicked like a diseased dear trapped in her headlights. Dee wants to laugh so bad, because she can tell Dennis thinks he’s being intimidating but he looks like he’s impatiently waiting for Dee to eat him. When she’s stoned, she likes to prove Dennis right. Because she’s really too mellowed out to start screaming. Plus, her throat is pretty raw. It’s. been a while since she cleaned out her bowl last.

“Thinking a lot about how you eye-fucked Mac’s hands while he was rolling that joint there, little bro.” Dee punctuates her statement with a pull from her bowl. She coughs. Dennis’ face changes from caught to smug. Stupid goddamn dirty bowl.

“I shouldn’t be taking this kind of homophobic talk from a bird who smokes out of a dirty crackpipe” Dee winces at the rise in volume and frequency of Dennis’ voice.

“I’m not going to do that back and forth shit with you right now, Dennis”

“Then don’t cross me.” Dennis replies sensibly. God he’s such a bitch.

“I’m just saying, you better fuck that beefcake before someone else beats you to it.” Dee flicks the roach at Dennis’ head. Seeing him shoot away fills her with so much satisfaction. Much like a cat that is getting another cat out of a wall, kicking and fucking screaming, but the girl cat will force the boy cat to leave that goddamn wall if her idiot life depends on it. Or not. Dee probably won’t die for this cause. She’s chill. They wouldn’t do that for her. But that doesn’t stop her from continuing to dig into Dennis’ skin, now fully relaxed in her prodding, just to see him squirm. Neither of them will remember this well but Dee will remember enough to keep her in a good mood for a few days.

Dee doesn’t really talk about this one much. Not because she’s ashamed or because she has something to hide. But because she knows the guys won’t give a shit if she tries to explain it, so she just doesn’t. When they ask about new boyfriends she squawks something they might expect, to get them off her back. Because goddamn the four of them together is like having a bunch of dirty, nasty, mean dads who want to fuck each other. Sort of. Dee doesn’t unpack all of their homoerotic crap in her head, she has better shit to do). It’s the longest secret she’s kept from the gang. The one none of them seem to even recognize in her. Her bitterness over her family’s lack of observational and conversational skills thus fully justify her decision to start fooling around with the Waitress. Dee’s had some FOMO over that one for years.

CHARLIE:

Without fail every single goddamn time he smokes he immediately pukes. When they were dumb teenagers they’d smoke on Dennis’ trampoline in his backyard, which was cool as fuck because all Charlie had in his yard was a patch of concrete. Whenever the joint (rolled by Mac, always) was passed to him, he’d take a confident inhale, exhale shakily then lean over the edge of the trampoline to throw up. Mac would rub his back in gentle circles and Dennis breezily said he could blame the puke on their newest housekeeper that his dad was banging without quite looking Charlie in the eye. But that’s alright, because Charlie knows what Dennis means.

Now as adults:

“Charlie! Gross, dude! Come on! I thought you grew out of that shit!?” Mac exclaims, shoving his body as far away from Charlie as he can through approximately three barstools and seven empty beer bottles now smashing on the floor.

Charlie shouts above the destruction, “I’m just getting the toxins out of my system!” At the blank looks he receives from his two best friends, he continues talking completely logically.

“The weed goes in and sucks up the toxins in my organs and then I puke it out! It just means I have a strong constitution, dude!”

Mac sputters, “A strong constitution?! I’m not the one who throws up every time I smoke! I have a stomach of steel. My constitution is like super hard, bro. It’s only getting harder with age.”

Dennis blows smoke in Mac’s face, “shut up. I’m having a chill time. Anyway, this is why we make Charlie go first, to get that shit over with. Now, disinfect the joint and pass it to me!”

Waxes philosophic about gender theory. Or at least that’s how Dennis explains it gently to Charlie. Because The Bastard Man took one intro to Feminist Studies class that did like three days worth of Gender Theory and Dennis skipped nearly every goddamn one of those classes. So Charlie doesn’t know why Dennis, of all people, thinks he can “break the news gently that Charlie lectured the whole gang about Bells and Hooks and Troubles and Genders when he was really baked.”

“Dennis,” Charlie says seriously, “did you read the goddamn books.”

Dennis looks around the empty bar self-consciously then whispers, “yes! I don’t know how you read them, you know, considering your illiteracy but I’ve been thinking about them for weeks. Can we please talk more about it?”

Charlie nods sagely, feeling touched that a smart guy like Dennis would want to learn about gender bells and hooks from him.

“If you have some grass then your ass is about to be gendered.”

Dennis appears confused but still enthusiastic. From within his shirt pocket he produces a beautifully rolled joint, “stole this one from Mac, buddy.”

Charlie grabs his puke bucket and leads the way to the back office.

#mine #iasip #macdennis #sunny stoner au #I will come back and do frank becayse I'm zooted and this took me a rlly long time #This turned out to be way longer than antiicipated l #whew

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lunar-wandering · 4 years ago

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Peach Slices

the Sick!Wukong fanfic is finally done! this is the longest one shot i’ve ever written lol.

tagging @winterpower98 and @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off since you two seemed interested

read on ao3

Word Count: 5.4k

-----

When MK arrived at the temple to train, he could immediately tell that something was wrong. For one, Wukong wasn't hidden anywhere in an attempt to surprise him, which he had been doing lately to help him "hone his instincts". (Usually all that got him was a smack in the face with his own staff. MK would apologize each time, but Wukong would just wave it off.) Instead of hiding, Wukong was sitting in the middle of the courtyard, a few of the monkeys hanging out around him and hanging off of him. The second thing that was off was how the monkeys were looking at him, concerned. Upon noticing MK, they had immediately started to point him at Wukong, as though saying "something's up with him, please help him out.". The third thing that was off, was Wukong fur. It looked absolutely horrible, like he'd just rolled out of bed and hadn't brushed it, and had also been through like 5 fights.

That was concerning enough, but what really worried MK was the 4th thing.

Wukong hadn't noticed him yet.

Nevermind the other things being weird, Wukong not noticing him was just plain wrong. Wukong always noticed when MK arrived, even if he'd been distracted before.

Something was clearly up, and MK was going to find out what.

Deciding to use the fact that Wukong hadn't noticed him to his advantage, MK started slowly sneaking up behind him, making a shushing motion to the monkeys to let them know to be quiet. He had a suspicion about what was up, and honestly he kinda hoped that he was wrong.

Finally managing to make it to Wukong's side, MK slowly reached up-

And lightly pressed the back of his hand to Wukong's forehead.

Wukong yelped and jumped away in surprise at MK's "sudden" appearance, but the few seconds that MK's hand had been on Wukong's forehead was all he needed.

"Kid! I uh, didn't hear you come in-"

"You're sick." MK stated the facts, as Wukong looked at him in surprise. "Why didn't you call me to cancel training if you're sick? I could've just gone to spar with Red Son or Mei instead."

"I, wh-" Wukong sputtered for a moment, before he seemed to collect himself a little. "I'm not sick."

"Uh, your fever says other wise." MK replied, not certain what his mentor thought he would get out of denying his incredibly obvious condition.

"What fever? I'm perfectly fine." Wukong clearly lied, leaning against a nearby tree in an attempt to look cool. MK rolled his eyes and was about to respond when Wukong let out a sudden yelp, as the tree he was leaning against snapped and fell to the ground, causing him to stumble. There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at the fallen tree.

"I totally meant to do that."

"Alright, that's it." MK said, setting his bag on the ground and walking over to Wukong. "Come on Monkey King, I'm taking you back to my apartment to keep an eye on you."

"That's really not necessary- hey! Put me down!" Wukong yelled as MK scooped him up, carrying him like a sack of potatoes. "Seriously, Kid, I'm fine!"

"If you were fine you'd have jumped away before I grabbed you." MK said. Wukong didn't seem to have a reasonable response for that, so MK started the long trek back to the noodle shop with only a few more complaints from the Monkey King.

---

At some point during the walk to the noodle shop, Wukong had fallen asleep. MK was kinda grateful for that actually, it meant he didn't have to deal with his mentor continuing to complain, and it meant that he was resting, which he honestly probably needed, based on how he looked.

MK avoided going in through the front door of the noodle shop, from what he could see, there were quite a few customers in there. If he went in with a passed out Monkey King on his back, it was sure to cause a commotion, and he.... really didn't want that, especially if all the noise would wake Wukong up. So, MK snuck around to the back of the shop, and used the fire escape to climb up to his apartment on the second floor.

Once inside, MK carefully set Wukong down on his bed, shaking some of the ache out of his arms as he did so. Wukong was heavy, and carrying him for over an hour had done MK's arms no favors.

Wukong curled up in the bed, and MK sighed, before going off in search of more blankets and pillows, and hopefully some medicine to bring Wukong's fever down. MK... wasn't actually sure when he last bought medicine. He might have to ask Mei to run out and buy him some, because there was no way he was going to leave-

Almost as soon as he thought that, MK's phone dinged, telling him he'd received a message from Pigsy.

'I know you're here.' It read, 'Heard you on the fire escape. If you aren't training, can you come back down and work for the next hour?'

'Cant.' MK sent back, 'Busy rn'.

'What on Earth could you be busy with?'

MK thought for a moment on how best to explain the situation, before figuring that a visual example was probably the best, and snapped a quick picture of Wukong and sent it to Pigsy.

The yelled "What the fuck!" was loud enough for MK to hear, and apparently Wukong heard it too, as he started to stir.

"Kid?" He asked, slowly sitting up, "W'as goin' on?"

"It's nothing Monkey King, go back to sleep-" MK was proven wrong however, as the two of them could hear a series of loud footsteps running up the stairs. Within seconds, Pigsy had burst into the room.

"MK." He said, "Would you please explain to me why Sun Wukong is in your bed."

"He's sick." MK said, glancing back at the monkey in question. Despite the rest he'd gotten on the way over, he was actually starting to look worse than before, as well as very confused. He hoped that his fever wasn't getting worse.

"Oh well that's plainly obvious." Pigsy said, "What I want to know, is why you brought him here instead of back to his mountain."

"I figured it'd be easier to look after him here? I kinda.... doubt that he has the materials needed to look after someone who's sick back at his house." MK explained. Pigsy sighed at the answer, suddenly looking incredibly resigned to the fact that he was going to have to deal with there being a sick monkey king directly above his noodle shop. Gods, this was going to be a pain....

"Zhu Bajie?" Wukong suddenly asked, drawing Pigsy and MK's attention back to him. "What....what are you doing here? You're... Dead."

MK and Pigsy stared at him in confusion.

"What on Earth is he going on about now?" Pigsy asked, and that was all it took for Wukong to start suddenly crying hysterically. MK panicked, rushing forwards and trying to calm him down, but not really knowing how. Pigsy stood back, shocked and confused at the sudden emotional outburst from the monkey.

Pigsy would've tried to help MK calm Wukong down, but there was a sudden yell from down in the noodle shop and, remembering that he had practically left said shop unattended, he was forced to turn and start back down the stairs. He gave MK a look of apology as he went, and mentally noted that he would have to make some kind of soup for the sick monkey.

...Did Wukong even eat soup?

As far as Pigsy remembered, the answer to that was no.

.....He'd have to ask Tang and Sandy to pick up a basket of peaches at the store.

---

Later, after Wukong had cried himself out and fallen back asleep, and Pigsy closed the shop for lunch, MK pulled Pigsy aside for a moment.

"So." Pigsy started, "What was all that stuff earlier about?"

"He. He kept saying things like 'he's supposed to be dead' and 'he doesn't remember me' while he was crying." MK said, "His fever's pretty high. I think it's made him delirious. And I think that. He thinks you're Zhu Bajie, one of the people who was with him during the Journey to the West."

Pigsy was silent for a brief moment.

"Kid....I'm about to tell you something that might.....upset you." He said. MK tilted his head, confused.

"What do you me-, oh my gods." Realization struck. "Are you kidding me?"

Pigsy gave no signs that he was kidding. MK stared in shock.

"You're Zhu Bajie??"

"Yes. Sandy and Tang are Wujing and Tripitaka too."

MK's shock quickly turned to anger.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell him?" He asked.

"I... I didn't tell you because I didn't think you needed to know." Pigsy said, "As for Wukong.... he was never there when we tried to go visit him over the years. We knew he was still alive, Heaven would've lost it's shit had he actually died, but we...figured that he was avoiding us. That he didn't want to interact with us, for some reason."

"Well clearly that is not the case, considering he apparently thinks you're dead!" MK shouted, ignoring Pigsy's hurried shushing. "Can you imagine how upsetting that must be for him?? Thinking that all the people he considers friends, maybe even family, are dead, or that they don't remember him? I want to cry just thinking of it!"

MK would have continued yelling, but a sudden thump and crash upstairs drew his attention. He paused for a moment, during which he and Pigsy both heard the quiet, slightly scared, "Kid?" from Wukong. MK sighed, moving to head back up the stairs, but not before giving Pigsy a glare.

"This isn't over. We will be talking about this later." He said, before disappearing up the stairs. Pigsy slumped against the counter.

"Jeez....." He muttered, "We really fucked up didn't we."

---

When he walked back into his apartment, MK was only slightly surprised to find it a mess, and Wukong missing from the bed. Clearly, Wukong had woken up while MK was downstairs, and, upon not seeing the kid anywhere in the general area, had panicked, probably assuming the worst. Worried for a brief moment, MK glanced at the window, breathing a sigh of relief to see that it was still locked the way it had been before. Good, so Wukong was still somewhere in the apartment.

Now where did he-

There was a sudden crash from the kitchen.

MK rushed to the kitchen, to find Wukong standing in front of the sink, bits and pieces of what used to be a cup on the floor. Wukong still looked dreadful, but he did look slightly better than before.

Slightly.

"Oh, Kid, there you are." Wukong said upon noticing him, "I was worried about you."

"Yeah, I uh, could tell." MK said, thinking back to the mess he'd caught a glance of in the living room. "What are you doing in the kitchen?"

"I wanted to get a drink?" Wukong said, "I'm sorry about your cup though... I can replace it-"

"After you go back to bed." MK said, "Monkey King, you still look awful."

"Do I?" Wukong asked, sighing when MK nodded his head yes. "Fine. But if I'm in your bed, where are you going to sleep?"

"On the couch." MK answered, and, upon seeing the look on Wukong's face, added, "Don't worry about it. I've slept on the couch multiple times before."

"If you say so kid..."

"I do say so. Now c'mon, back to bed."

It was definitely a good thing MK made Wukong get back in the bed, as Wukong was just slightly wobbly the entire walk back from the kitchen to the bedroom.

"Weren't you going to play games with Mei tonight?" Wukong asked, as MK dropped another blanket on top of him. "You can go play with her if you want. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, forgive me for not trusting you on that one." MK said, "Unless you don't remember your emotional outburst from earlier."

"I had an emotional outburst?"

"You- actually you know what, it's probably better that you don't know." MK replied, before quickly changing the subject. "I already messaged Mei by the way, told her what was up. She's going to pick up some medicine."

"Bold of you to assume that human medicine will work on me."

".....Will it?"

"I don't know. Haven't tried."

---

Red Son was peacefully walking down the street, rather quite enjoying his day, when suddenly, Mei ran by in a green rush, almost knocking him off his feet.

"Hey Dragon Girl!" He shouted, grabbing her attention, "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Monkey King's sick!" She said, "MK's asked me to get medicine-"

"Hold up. Sun Wukong is sick?" Red Son asked, looking straight up shocked when Mei nodded in response. "I... I must tell Mother and Father about this."

"You're not gonna like. Spring an attack on us while he's sick are you?" Mei asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Red Son gasped, offended.

"Of course not! We are nothing if not honorable villains." He said, "I just think that... Mother and Father would want to know about this is all."

"Hm....Okay." Mei said, "But if I see even one hint of an attack, I will not hesitate to beat you up."

"...Duly noted."

---

Over the past few hours, Wukong had tried multiple times to get up and do things. The Monkey King, apparently, didn't know how to rest. MK had to keep practically dragging him back into the bed before he broke things on accident, which, unfortunately, was happening a lot. 3 glasses, 2 plates, one vase, and one coffee table had been destroyed before MK got the bright idea to set up his laptop and stream the Monkey King Animated Series for Wukong to watch. That, at least, managed to get him to stay in bed while MK started trying to clean things up.

He had just finished sweeping up the last few pieces of the plates when the doorbell rang.

MK set down the broom and opened the door to see Mei, with one arm carrying two bowls of noodles, and her other arm holding two small baskets of peaches and a box of medicine.

"Hey MK." She said, giving him a smile.

"Come right on in Mei, here, let me take that for you." MK said, taking the peach baskets and the medicine box out of Mei's hand so that she could use both of them to carry the noodle bowls. He set the peaches and medicine down on the kitchen counter as Mei set the bowls down on the table. The two of them sat down to eat.

"So uh, what with the peaches and the noodles?" MK asked.

"Well, I remembered you said that Monkey King liked peaches, so I figured I'd pick some up for him while I was at the store." She said, "Turns out, Tang and Sandy had the same idea. Pigsy sent the peaches and the noodles up. Said something about you probably not wanting to see him right now."

"I wouldn't say that I wouldn't want to see him." MK said, "Just that me and him are...going to have a conversation later. It's nothing you need to worry about, I promise."

The look Mei gave him was skeptical, but when MK didn't retract his statement, she sighed and decided to move on.

"Sooo....How's Monkey King doing?" She asked.

"He's doing.... better than he was this morning I guess." MK said, fiddling with his chopsticks. "He still isn't near what I'd deem healthy, but I'm pretty sure his fever has gone down a bit. I set things up so he could watch the Monkey King Animated Series on my laptop so that he'd stop trying to get up and do things. I should probably give him the medicine before I go to bed."

"So, basically, what I'm taking away from this, is that you're Mother Henning the Monkey King." Mei said, laughter in her voice. MK was about to respond, argue that he was not being a Mother Hen, he was just concerned, when there was a thump outside, and then a knock on the balcony door. MK gave Mei a questioning glance, wondering if she knew anything about who could possibly be on his balcony, but she just shrugged, clearly as confused as he was. Sighing, MK stood up and walked over to the balcony door. On his way, a quick glance into his bedroom showed that Wukong had fallen asleep again, the laptop still running. He'd have to turn it off to save the battery, as well as wake Wukong later to give him some food and medicine, but another knock on the door meant he was going to have to see who had decided to come visit him first.

He opened up the door, only to come face to face with Red Son, who was holding a basket of peaches and looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

"...What are you doing here?" MK asked, briefly wondering if he should summon his staff, just in case. But then again, Red Son didn't seem like he wanted to attack at the moment, so...

"Dragon Girl happened to inform me that Wukong is sick." Red Son said, "I told my parents, as I figured they should know, and they practically demanded that I bring this here. So.... take it."

With that said, Red Son practically shoved the peach basket into MK's hands. MK sighed as he looked at its contents.

"At this rate, my apartment is going to be both destroyed and full of peaches." He said. Red Son quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, I was going to just leave, but now I'm curious. Why would your little apartment be both destroyed and filled with peaches Noodle Boy?" He asked.

"For one, Monkey King keeps getting up and trying to do things, but keeps accidentally destroying stuff." MK explained, "Secondly, everyone seems to be bringing peaches, though I'm not entirely sure why-"

"It's because literally the only thing we know that he likes to eat is peaches." Mei interrupted, appearing beside MK after having grown tired of waiting in the kitchen. "That doesn't leave us with many food options."

"I mean, I think he enjoys other fruits too?" MK said, sounding uncertain. "But yeah, either way, I think I'm going to be overrun with peaches."

"Well, at least not everything in the basket is a peach." Red Son commented, "There's a box of tea in there too."

MK took out the tea box and after a few seconds of inspecting it, snorted out a little laugh.

"The tea is peach flavored too." He said.

"Of course it is." Red Son sighed. "Well...whatever. See you around later Noodle Boy, Dragon Girl."

And with that, Red Son disappeared in a flash of flames. MK closed the balcony door, bringing the peach basket into the kitchen to set it beside the others.

"You think we can trust that they didn't poison those?" Mei asked. MK gave the peaches a glance.

"They......probably didn't. Just to be safe though, I think I'll give Monkey King the ones you and Pigsy gave me first."

----

By the time Mei left, it was 10:30 PM. MK walked back into his bedroom carrying a small plate of sliced up peaches, as well as a dose of medicine and a glass of water. He set them down on top of his bedside table, and then reached over and paused the episode of Monkey King the Animated Series that was playing on his laptop. He carefully picked up said laptop and brought it over to the wall to plug it in. With that done, he went back to the bed and gently shook his mentor awake.

"Mmmn....Kid?" Wukong slurred, clearly not 100% awake.

"Yeah, it's me." MK said, "I"ve got some peach slices for you to eat, and some medicine to take."

Wukong accepted the peach slices and medicine surprisingly easily, taking the medicine before starting to eat.

"Y'know..." MK said, "Earlier, you mentioned that you'd never tried medicine before. So like, what do you normally do when you're sick?"

"Go to sleep for 3 days and don't wake up until it's all over." Wukong mumbled around a piece of peach. MK gave him a deadpan look.

"Monkey King that's a coma." He said. Wukong snorted in response.

"It's only a coma if I can't wake up."

"No, I'm pretty sure sleeping for 3 days straight is genuinely considered a coma."

"Whatever." Wukong mumbled, yawning. He'd finished the peaches. MK sighed as Wukong flopped back down onto the bed, rolling over so that his back was facing him. MK silently pulled the blankets over top of the Monkey King, quietly amused at how Wukong's tail didn't quite fit in under them, and was left dangling off the side of the bed, swinging back and forth.

"Goodnight Monkey King." MK said.

" 'Night, kid." Wukong responded, and with that, MK turned off the light and left the room, leaving Wukong under what was at this point a practical mountain of blankets, alone.

---

MK woke up.

It was dark out, no sign of the sun at all. One quick glance at the clock in the living room revealed the time to be 3 AM. MK usually didn't have any problems sleeping, so what could've woken-

He saw something move in the corner of his eye.

Still half asleep, MK jumped off the couch, summoning the staff into his hand as he whirled around-

Only to be confronted with nothing but shadows.

....Huh.

Must've just been his eyes playing tricks on him.

Leaning his staff up against the wall, MK leaned down to pick up his stuffed monkey, (which had fallen off the couch when he'd jumped up), when he heard it.

A small whimper, from his bedroom.

Oh.

So that's what had woken him up.

Holding his stuffie in his arms, MK walked over to his bedroom, activating his golden vision in order to see better in the dark.

What he saw was pretty much what he should've expected.

Wukong had kicked off most of his blankets, and was partially curled up, shaking, with his tail thrashing wildly.

He was having a nightmare. Or, well, it was probably a fever dream in this case, but still. MK had to wake him up. He knelt down by the bed and gently shook Wukong's shoulder.

"Monkey King?" He said, "Monkey King, wake up."

No response.

".....C'mon, Wukong wake up."

Hearing his actual name seemed to rouse him.

".....Kid?" He asked. There were leftover tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah it's me." MK said, softly, "You okay?"

"M'fine."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" MK asked. Wukong curled up a little more.

"It's nothing you'd understand, kid." He mumbled. MK supposed that made sense. Wukong had been alive for a long time after all, there was sure to be no end to things he had seen, or knows, that MK could never hope to comprehend.

"...Okay." MK said. "Do you just wanna go back to sleep."

All he got in response in a nod.

Now, as stated, MK knew that Wukong didn't want to talk about... whatever his nightmare had been about. But MK couldn't just leave without doing something to help.

...He looked at his stuffie.

"...Monkey King?" A hum, Wukong was listening. MK held up his stuffed monkey. "I think I'm gonna leave this little guy here with you."

Now that got Wukong to sit up a little, tail fluffing up a bit in surprise.

"...Don't you always sleep with him though?" Wukong asked, as MK placed the stuffie into his arms. "Kid, you don't have to-"

"It's fine." MK said, giving his mentor a smile. "I've slept without him before, I'll be fine. Besides, I think you need his services more than I do tonight."

Wukong couldn't seem to come up with any sort of argument for that, so he simply laid back down in the bed, pulling the blankets up over his head and curling up around the little stuffed monkey. Job done, MK left the room, going into the kitchen to get a glass of water before heading back to bed.

....Huh. That was weird.

Was there one more peach basket than there'd been before?

MK narrowed his eyes at it for a moment, before shrugging it off, figuring he must've just miscounted the amount of peach baskets Mei had brought, and went back to the couch to sleep, leaving the peach basket with the purple bow undisturbed.

---

The next day was mostly uneventful. True to his statement of typically just sleeping the sickness off, Wukong slept for most of the day, only waking up when MK woke him to get him to eat, drink, or have a dose of medicine. MK would be concerned about this, but it did seem that the sleep was actively doing Wukong some good, he was starting to look much better, so MK let it be.

There was other matters he had to take care of.

When Pigsy closed the shop for lunch, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to see MK standing behind him, glaring.

"Uh, MK, what's up?" He asked, awkwardly. MK just kept glaring.

"Call over Tang and Sandy, now." MK said, before sitting down at one of the tables to wait. "It's about time we had that talk."

It took an unsurprisingly short amount of time for Tang and Sandy to arrive. MK waited until they were all seated.

"So." He started, but he was interrupted by Pigsy.

"Look, MK, I know we should've told you about who we were-"

"Oh! Oh you definitely should have." MK said, "I can't believe you guys just didn't tell me that you were on the Journey to the West. But that's not important right now. What's important, is that there is a sick Monkey King in my apartment who thinks you guys are dead, and I would like an explanation as to why."

"Well," Tang started, "We haven't seen him in over 300 years-"

"I told you two we should've left a note that one time." Sandy mumbled, calmly petting Mo. Pigsy sighed.

"Look kid, we tried to interact with him, believe me we did!" He said, "But every time we tried he either wasn't around or had just left. It is ridiculously hard to catch the damn monkey when he doesn't want to be caught."

MK nodded slowly.

"....Okay." He said, "I... suppose that makes sense."

He stood up.

"Tomorrow, if Monkey King is feeling better, which I'm guessing he will, you guys will be having a talk with him." MK said, walking away from the table to go back up the stairs to his apartment. He paused on the first step, turning slightly to say over his shoulder, "Just to be clear by the way. I'm still mad at you. Expect a 1 week business period before I forgive you."

"....Yeah that's fair." Tang said.

And with that, MK went back up the stairs, leaving the three immortals to anxiously contemplate how the next day's conversation would go.

---

As MK had guessed, Wukong was feeling a lot better the next day. He was actually awake, and the fever had definitely gone down, at least as far as MK could tell. Overall, he seemed to be doing a lot better.

...Which meant it was time for a conversation MK wasn't entirely sure would end well.

"Monkey King, I need you to stay right here, okay?" MK said, gesturing at the couch Wukong was currently sitting on. Wukong let out a confused laugh.

"Might I ask as to why?" He said.

"You'll see."

"...Okay then?"

MK turned to go down the stairs, to get the other three members of this conversation, before pausing, suddenly thinking of something he remembered hearing in one of the stories about the Journey to the West. Turning, he grabbed a paint brush from his desk, dipped it in some white paint, and proceeded to draw a circle around the couch where Wukong sat. Wukong watched him do this in barely contained amusement.

"You will stay here." MK said, just for emphasis, as he finished the circle.

"I heard you the first time, kid." Wukong said, laughter in his voice. MK gave him an 'I'm watching you' look, before finally going down the stairs. Wukong, true to his word, stayed inside the circle.

...When MK came back up the stairs with his friends Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy though, Wukong kinda wished he'd just left after he woke up like he'd planned. Those three just reminded him too much.... of them.

MK, seeing the look on Wukong's face, sighed.

"Okay, let's just get this over with, because I doubt there's any way to do this gently." He said, "Monkey King, these three are Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy, and they are also the ones who were with you on the Journey to the West. And before you ask, yes, they do remember you."

Wukong's mind stopped as those words registered in his brain.

The Monkey King went a whole minute without speaking, during which Tang shifted from foot to foot nervously, Pigsy pointedly didn't look him in the eyes, Sandy patiently continued to pet his cat, and MK just looked entirely done with the whole situation.

"Uh, MK?" Tang eventually said, "I think you might've broken him."

That one sentence was enough to break Wukong's stupor.

".....Is it really them?" He asked, sounding like he was on the verge of breaking down into tears. Pigsy gave a gruff sigh, but didn't respond, so MK rolled his eyes, and casually shoved Pigsy next to the couch.

"....Yes, it's us you dumb monkey." Pigsy said, and that was all it took for Wukong to break down crying jumping off the couch and tackle hugging Pigsy to the ground, tail swinging. Tang immediately went to Pigsy's rescue, trying to pry Wukong off of him before Wukong could accidentally suffocate him, but ended up also getting dragged into the hug by the monkey. Sandy didn't hesitate to join the hug himself, squeezing the other three as tight as possible, before setting them down gently onto the couch. MK figured he'd better leave the four of them alone for a moment, and went into the kitchen to make them some tea.

"Where have you guys been?" Wukong finally asked, laying on top of Pigsy and Tang's laps, his tail curled around Sandy's arm. "I thought you all were dead."

"So we've heard." Pigsy mumbled, before speaking louder. "Truthfully, Wukong, we did try to interact with you these past 300 years, but we just never could seem to find you. So we stopped trying."

"Why?" Wukong asked.

"We kinda... thought you might be upset with us?" Tang said, "We figured you were avoiding us on purpose, and that you'd come and interact with us again once you'd calmed down a bit."

"Why wouldn't you try harder to find me, to ask what was wrong?"

"Would you want to deal with you while you're mad?" Pigsy asked.

"....Touché." Wukong said, and there was a moment of silence between the four of them, in which Sandy's cat crawled unto Wukong's chest, and Wukong started petting it.

"..You know." He said, "I'm really glad you guys are alive. Being alone... wasn't really all that fun."

"We're glad you're doing okay too, you damn monkey." Pigsy said.

It was at this point that MK came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with five cups of peach tea, and a plate of peach slices.

"You guys done with the emotional experience?" He asked, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "Because I've got a ton of peaches that aren't going to eat themselves."

"Ooh! Don't mind if I do!" Wukong said, quickly picking up the plate of peach slices to hoard them all to himself, which got him a light smack on the head from Pigsy, telling him to share his food, or he'd get out the rake.

Wukong just laughed in response.

He didn't care.

He had his family back.

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing #its midnight as im posting this lol

135 notes · View notes

square-blunt · 3 years ago

Text

I love my friends, they make me feel alive again, or at least they remind me that I'm not even dead

I am kicking and screaming i must put this one and another Esmp fic out before tomorrow and I am very Nyoom rn so I'm sorry if this one isn't as good, I really liked the way it turned out so here have some clingyduo fluff bc yeah I can writing things that aren't angst?? What? no one dies and their best friend holds them in their arms this time?? fuckin crazy. /lh

TW- Abandonment anxiety, ptsd WC: 2530 words Ao3: :3

It was Tubbo's birthday today. Tommy had been planning something for weeks- grinding, mining, stealing, going through ax after ax getting wood. He even asked Foolish for some help, and after those weeks, he had finally built a perfect replica of the L'manberg bee house. It wasn't in L'manberg, of course, but Tommy was sure Tubbo wouldn't care.

He didn't fill the basement with wolves, but he did get two or three bees in there- he named them. Beeinnit, Ranbee, and Tubbee. Tubbo and his two best friends, but bee form. Tommy was still Tubbo's best friend, right? He knew that Ranboo was more than a friend to Tubbo, the two were married, Ranboo couldn't technically hold both titles, and Ranboo was too dumb- he needs to stop blaming Ranboo. Sitting in the bee dome, planting a few last flowers- cornflowers, poppies, sunflowers, and white tulips, Tommy realizes that he needs to stop blaming Ranboo. He needs to. Because Ranboo was a good… enderguy. And he was good for Tubbo. He had asked Tubbo if Ranboo made him happy- Tubbo nodded, and that was good enough for him. He needs to stop blaming Ranboo, and start looking at himself. Because if he and Tubbo aren't talking as much, of course, he's gonna find someone else to talk to. And he's learning to not blame himself for everything, he does blame Dream for that, but this isn't Ranboo's fault and it isn't Tubbo's. And Tommy knows that he and Tubbo are still gonna be friends. It's been him and Tubbo since the beginning, that's what he said before fighting Dream. And Tommy knows that he and Tubbo will have each other's back. He's just overthinking this, but he is still gonna try and give Tubbo everything he wants or needs. And try to give him the world that he deserves. He's gonna try and make the world a better place for him. And a bee dome is a nice, easy start. It was more tedious than anything- thank prime for Eret stealing the blueprints before Doomsday. They had the plans for every building ever created- they let Tommy have the one for the bee dome. They even brought over the bee that would become Tubbee. Tommy… wanted to forgive Eret. And he would. Eventually. Tommy kind of did that before going off to fight Dream- Eret was the last person he talked to. And Eret looked so relieved when Tommy said that he thought they were the true king. They had been there for him and Tubbo. That was good enough for him. He did think that Tubbo, Ranboo, and Eret, even, were his best friends. He knew that Puffy was his friend, and her griefing his house was just some friendly pranks, and he enjoyed having something to do. Shit was getting too buddy-buddy around here. Wilbur… he wanted to be Wilbur's friend- brother. He wanted the Wilbur who started L'manberg, he wanted the Wilbur who would sit down and play a song. He knew that Wilbur was still there. Somewhere. He stops to touch the petal of a cornflower next to him. Blue and yellow are on opposite ends of the color wheel, but they mean the same thing to Tommy. He loves, and misses, his best friends. They make him a better person. He doesn't have to be the bad guy.

Tommy shields his face, the sun setting and glaring into his eyes through a window. It's almost night, shit. He had put enough lanterns and shroomlights in the dome that mobs wouldn't spawn, but he wasn't so sure about outside. There was some pathing, courtesy of Foolish, and there was some light around, but he wasn't sure. Because mobs weren't the only thing that darkness hid.

Tubbo whispers to you: I'm here boss man

Tommy smiles. He had asked Tubbo to meet him at the community house, after his birthday party in the mansion- Tommy had left early to put the flowers in and told tubbo to meet him there whenever he was ready.

/msg Tubbo: k I gotta do one last thing

/msg Tubbo: be there in a sec

He's almost happier it's night, it'll look a lot cooler from a distance. He plants one more cornflower next to a hive. He brushes his hands off on his pants, and then brushes his pants off, and checks his reflection in the window. It wasn't too far of a run back to the community house, the dome was just to the side of Eret's castle.

"Tubbzo!" Tommy runs up behind his friend, who, unfortunately, had his back turned.

"Tommy!! You scared the shit out of me, fuck you-" Tubbo said, Tommy laughing.

"You fucking jumped, like, 30 feet in the air," Tommy says, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck you," Tubbo repeats, lightly hitting Tommy in the arm, beginning to giggle as well.

"Come on, I spent so fucking long on this so you'd better like it," Tommy says, beginning to drag Tubbo out by his forearm.

"Yeah, is Ranboo already there?" Tubbo says, walking at pace with the other.

"What? I haven't seen Ranboo since the party." Tommy says, a pit in his stomach opening up.

"Huh, he said he was going to go help you with my birthday gift. You never saw him at all?" Tubbo says, voice laced with worry.

"No, was he going anywhere before coming to me? And- and I never told him where this was- only Foolish knew. So I don't even know how he'd find me." Tommy says, his grip loosening on Tubbo's forearm so he could pull away if he wanted. Tubbo didn't.

"No, he did that weird thing though, he calls me Tubbo and talks to me like you or Foolish would." Tubbo walks a little closer to Tommy.

"What's off about that?"

"Ranboo usually calls me beloved or snow angel, and he'd talk to me like a husband would, yknow?"

"He calls you 'snow angel?'" Tommy screws up his nose.

"Oh, piss off," Tubbo smiles a little.

"But still, we can look for him on our way? Unless you wanna look for him now, the be-irthday gift can wait."

"A beirthday gift, you say?" Tubbo says, smiling.

"Oh, piss off," Tommy mimics Tubbo, "but seriously, if you wanna look for him we can." Tommy stops and turns to face Tubbo, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"No, no, it's- you made it, whatever it is, I'm sure he's fine, and I'm sure he'd want me to go ahead," Tubbo says, looking up and smiling slightly.

"If you're sure. Because fucking Prime, this shit took so fucking long and I had to practically beg Foolish to help…" Tommy continues to talk to Tubbo, trying to distract him from his currently missing husband. Eventually, the moon high in the clouds, they get to the start of the path.

"There's no way you did this." Tubbo laughs.

"I didn't- Foolish did the path but I built the actual thing," Tommy says, letting go of Tubbo's arm, "I'll race you!" and off he sprints.

"NO FAIR YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!" Tubbo laughs from behind him.

"BYE-BYE BEE- boy-" Tommy skids to a stop, not long after rounding a corner of trees. He can see flames, high over the tree line, the light eating away and the surrounding stars, in the back of his mind he hears explosions- there aren't any explosions, Tommy, it's just a forest fire, there isn't any TNT, there isn't any TNT-

"Oh, is that… supposed to be on fire-" Tubbo stops next to him, Tubbo's hand on Tommy's forearm this time.

"No- no it-" Tommy straightens up, and he catches a glimpse of someone running away- a figure behind the trees, he blinks, and it's gone-

"Tommy?" Tubbo turns to look where Tommy was looking- where the figure was just moments before.

"N- nothing- Tubbo get- get behind me-" Tubbo's grip tightens on Tommy's arm as he pulls Drista's dagger out of his inventory, holding it in his other hand. Together, they creep up the path, until what's left of the bee house comes into view. It’s engulfed in flames, and all of Tommy’s hard work is being eaten away before his eyes. Tommy curses, puts the dagger away, and pulls out his water bucket.

"You've got-" Tommy motions at the bucket

"Yeah- and c'mere," Tubbo says, pulling on Tommy’s arm, throwing a fire res pot up. Tubbo lets go of Tommy’s arm as the shield washes over them, Tommy's skin feeling tingly. Together, they manage to put out the fire and put out a few trees that had caught before it spread anywhere else. They end in the dome, the roof all but gone, one of five beehives on the top floor remain.

"Oh, Tommy-" Tubbo begins to say, sadness heavy in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I spent fucking ages on it. Can't have shit- the gods must hate-" Tommy begins bitterly, collecting the last of the water, and putting it back in his hot bar. At least before his knees buckle under an unanticipated pile of weight. He hears Tubbo laughing from right behind him- he jumped on Tommy’s back, “Fuckin- Get off of me-” Tommy laughs, too. He doesn't mean anything by it, there's no malicious tone to anything he says to Tubbo- and Tubbo's one of the few people who actually understand that.

"I know exactly what this is-" Tubbo says, standing straight, a hand on his hip.

"What it was supposed to be." Tommy, out of habit, mirrors Tubbo. "See, why can't we have nice things? Fuckin, everyone else gets cool buildings and kingdoms and shit why the fuck can't we have a bee dome in the middle of the woods- what, why are you laughing" Tommy gestures vaguely at the rubble before raising a quizzical eyebrow at Tubbo's silent giggles.

"What it was supposed to bee," Tubbo says, cackling, and Tommy groans.

"Augh Tubbo, now is not the time-" Tommy rolls his eyes

"It was never meant to bee-" Tubbo laughs harder, clutching his stomach, leaning on Tommy for support. Tommy finds himself laughing a little bit,

"Ok, yeah, that was a good one- you wanna bee a hero, Tommy?" Tommy mimics Techno in a high-pitched voice- sending Tubbo into hysterics.

"We- We-hehehe- We would rather die than give into you and joi- join your SMBee-" Tubbo says between fits of laughter, making Tommy bark out a wheeze, "That was- was beeasier than I thought-"

"My unfinished symphobee-"

"TOMMY-"

"You can't control who lives who dies who-"

"-tells your storbee?"

"Yeah-hahaha! F- for Tommy to bee exiled-"

"That was so fucking stupid why'd I do that-" Tubbo shakes his head, his laughter subsiding.

"Because that's what you thought was best, you had no way of knowing what he was gonna- what he was gonna do to me-" Tommy says, the tone becoming solemnly serious.

"-If I had known I never would have done it, I would have told Dream to shove it up his ass, you know that right?" Tubbo says, reaching for Tommy's hand.

"Of course. We're best friends, I know you'd never do that to me." Tommy squeezes his hand. Tubbo lets out a breath, and he looks like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders. As much as he feels guilty admitting it, Tommy's glad Tubbo's been worrying about that. It means that he cares.

"Should he go in there and see what we can rebuild?" Tubbo says, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"If any, but- the bees!" Tommy breaks into a sprint, tugging Tubbo along with him with a yelp.

"Bees?" Tubbo easily gets his footing as they fly down the stairs, and all of Tommy's breath leaves in a sigh of relief. He can see three balls of yellow and black in a patch of flowers.

"Oh, thank prime," Tommy says.

"Oh, the flowers are L'manburg colors!" Tubbo reaches down to pick a poppy.

"Yeah… I tried to think of as many things as possible because I know how much L'manberg meant to you-" Tommy flails his arms out- Tubbo launching himself at Tommy- into a familiar hug, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

"It's fine, Tommy," Tubbo says, his voice bright- and Tommy becomes coldly aware of a memory- the last time Tubbo had roughly tangled him into a hug.

What am I without you?

Yourself?

"Tommy?" Tubbo's pulled back, a- at this point- very familiar concern on his face.

"I'm alright- just, bad memories. I'll be alright-" Tommy shakes his head, pulling Tubbo back into the hug.

"Are you sure? We can stop for a second- sit and talk?" Tubbo says softly from Tommy's shoulder.

"No- not on your birthday, I promise- I promise I'll be alright, this is nothing I haven't done- we haven't done before," Tommy says back, tucking his head into Tubbo's shoulder, trying to chase the pit in his stomach away.

"You sure?" Tommy can feel Tubbo's hand smooth down his hair. Tommy just hmms in response. "Do you think they- the bee's are asleep?"

"What do you mean?" Tommy looks up, he can't see the bees, but he doesn't want to leave the hug.

"The smoke, you think it put them to sleep?" Tubbo muses.

"Maybe," Tommy mutters. "Fuckin- I spent days on this." it was more of an inconvenience than anything at this point. "Do you wanna rebuild it?"

"Not right now, I'm tired, boss man." Tubbo sighs. Tommy realizes how tired he is, too, the familiar ache in his bones.

"Me too, Tubbzo, me too. Let's go home?" He says, making no move to back out of the hug. Tubbo just hums. And so they stand there, until they figure out they can shuffle together- at least to the stairs. Tommy laughs at the image this must make. Two boys, one half-cow, one half-dead, who would rather tear up the ground and trample flowers than break their hug. By the time they do eventually get to the stairs, they both are laughing. Tommy notices that he laughs a lot more whenever he's with Tubbo. He also notices he gets tired a lot quicker. Puffy would say something about Tommy feeling safe around Tubbo, enough so that he shows emotion and lets his guard down, but Tommy knows that. He yawns, he is actually really tired. Tubbo yawns too, and they help each other up the stairs and out of what's left of glass and wood. About halfway down the path, Tommy stops and looks over his shoulder, at the space between trees, where he saw-

"Whacha lookin at, big man?" Tubbo asks from beside him.

"Nothing- I thought I saw someone running away from the fire when we first got here- I think maybe they were the one that did it, but I didn't catch their face." Tommy says, half lying. It was true, he didn't catch their face, but he'd know those two glowing eyes anywhere. He knew who it was. No way he was gonna tell Tubbo about it.

Because he was almost sure it was Ranboo.

#i fucking hate tagging shit #gremfics #c!tommy #c!tubbo #clingyduo #c!clingyduo #clingyduo fluff #c!ranboo #i fucking love bears in trees man #they have the best lyrics for fics #tommyinnit #c!tommy pos #tubbo #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp writing

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

Text

please don’t touch the artwork // fred weasley

Summary: Beauxbatons!reader has a thing for Fred – something their friends won’t let them forget.

Request: Hi, I’m not sure if you’re taking requests right now. But I have an idea for a Fred Weasley x reader where this takes place in the goblet of fire, and the reader is from Beauxbatons. Her friends keep teasing her whenever Fred flirts with her. Again I apologize if ur not doing requests rn ahhh

A/N: It took me forever to start this because I couldn’t decide whether French would help oml

Reader: female, Beauxbatons

Warnings: swearing I suppose

You had absolutely no intention of putting your name in the goblet of fire. All you wanted, if not just a holiday and a break from all the schoolwork Beauxbatons threw at you, was an English boy. Your friends, who were more enamoured with the French offerings of romance, thought you were crazy. Whilst you had to admit that French people did tend to be extremely attractive, and you were inclined to include yourself in that bracket, there was something about British guys that attracted you beyond belief. It was hard to explain to your friends why you wanted someone witty and funny; it was harder to explain why you thought Fred Weasley might be just that. And for your complete inability to explain, you were teased mercilessly.

Fred, as you learnt his name was, had caught your eye. When you first danced your way into Hogwarts’ great hall, you looked over the four tables of students with an excited nervousness. The nervousness seemed to fade away when you made eye contact with a ginger boy at the table with a red banner above it. He had a twin opposite him, who was hooting and clapping along with the rest of the students. He wasn’t clapping though; he just stared at you with a handsome smile. You bit your lip, looking away from his stare. When you looked back, though, he was still staring, completely unabashed. To say you were intrigued would’ve been the definition of an understatement.

“George,” Fred said, loud enough for George to hear over the music and his own cheering.

“Yeah, Fred?”

Both brothers stared at the Beauxbatons students. George’s eyes flicked from girl to girl; he made a face as one student he focused on turned out to be a boy but continued with his admiring anyway. Fred’s eyes, though, remained solely on you.

“There’s a girl over there-“

“There’s a lot of girls over there.”

“-And I’m going to make her mine.”

It took him less than twenty-four hours to come and find you. You’d been at the breakfast table with the other Beauxbatons students. Granted it didn’t take a detective to find you, but you were still surprised to see him saunter over, the shouts of his friends, and twin, behind him. Your friends’ chatter and laughing stopped when he got closer, all of you confused. You wondered why he was staring straight at you, remembering him from the day before.

“Bonjour,” he said smiling with his hands held behind his back. He seemed to be both aware and indifferent to how awkward and extremely British his French was and you couldn’t help but smile. Your friends laughed and you were glad when he didn’t seem offended by their giggling, he didn’t seem to even notice.

“Salut,” you replied, biting your lip to hide your smile. He nodded and then quickly looked down at the palm of his hand before looking back at you.

“Vous êtes belle.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, your friends’ giggles not helping. Somehow his clunky pronunciation and cheeky grin made the compliment even sweeter and you found your heart swelling a little that he was trying to impress you.

“Je suis Y/N.”

He frowned for a moment as if unprepared before his red eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. They drew downward again as he tried to figure out how to respond.

“Fred,” he nodded, hoping you’d understand – Hermione had only taught him how to compliment and he was frankly surprised he that he’d even got that far.

“Alors, merci, Fred.”

When you smiled at him, he swore he fell for you right there and then. His cheeks felt like they were going to burst as he mirrored your grin. He only snapped out of it when your friends started laughing at the both of you, with you grinning at each other like fools.

“Alright, well,” he tongued his cheek, wiping his leg with his hands. “See you later, then.”

“Bien sûr,” you muttered, biting your lip, smiling as the whole Beauxbatons table descended into hysterical laughter. As Fred raced back to his friends, you saw smudged black ink on his hand and you found your smile growing even wider.

You had a habit of seeing Fred in the corridors that next week. Nearly always from far away, you’d meet each other’s eyes and wave, sometimes he’d wink, and every time, your friends would giggle. He’d grown accustomed to their teasing; it didn’t bother him at all. He would’ve liked, though, to see you on your own – seemingly an impossible task. It wasn’t until before the champions announcement that he actually spoke to you again. You were stood by your table, talking to your friend, debating who would be picked for the tournament. You didn’t see him approach but familiar laughing from some of the girls sitting down gave you an inkling; you looked up to see Fred, smiling.

You excused yourself to your friend, crossing your arms loosely as you turned toward him. He cleared his throat, sending you a smile before fishing a ripped-up piece of parchment from his robes.

“Je pense-“

“Fred,” you said, stepping closer with a breathy laugh. Your hand hovered over his forearm. He didn’t seem to mind that you interrupted him, a smile lifting his cheeks at your closer proximity. “I speak English.”

“Oh, brilliant,” he sighed in relief, scrunching up the paper and throwing it over his shoulder. “Thanks for that; I bet your friends would’ve loved my little speech. Probably think I’m a right muppet.”

You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Ignore them. They are- how you say- arseholes?”

His smile grew at your words and it wasn’t long until you were both standing there, grinning at each other, again.

“You just get better, don’t you?”

You felt your face heat up and you hoped he didn’t notice how nervous he made you. Looking up at him to see his shit-eating grin, you realised he definitely did.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“With me, I mean.”

You let out a chuckle, pursing your lips at his slightly flustered expression.

“Avec moi-“ you heard your friend mimicking him behind you. With your mood souring slightly, you whipped around to face her, hitting her on the back of the head with your outstretched palm.

“Ta gueule!” you hissed, earning a teasing ‘ooh’ from the other students. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Fred.

You expected him to be put out by the mocking or your rudeness, but instead, he was staring at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in awe.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, running your hand up your arm nervously.

“Blimey, don’t be.”

Fred wet his lips with his tongue, smirking as your eyes widened and you remembered what he’d asked you.

“Oh! Yes,” you nodded. “I would love to go with you.”

He nodded, too, and you noticed his eyes flick down to your lips. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry,” he crossed his arms cockily and you had to enjoy how confident he was. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A laugh escaped your throat as a strange murmur filled the hall and people began to rush to sit down. You looked around, your mouth opening as you turned back to Fred. He was still staring at you.

“Oi, Fred!” his twin yelled from his table. Fred didn’t reply and you couldn’t help the amusement that twitched at your lips.

“I just need another minute,” he said, more to you than his twin.

“Y/N,” your friend pulled on your arm.

More and more people began to take their seats, with their headmaster, Dumbledore, walking to the front of the hall. And still, you and Fred stood there, staring at each other. It became more of a joke the longer you stood there; with both lots of your friends calling you to move. When nearly everyone was sat down, he huffed, tutting before walking backwards to his table. You sat down, still facing him.

“See you,” you said, wiggling your fingers in a wave.

“Oh, definitely.”

When he sat down, George nudged him with his shoulder.

“You stared at that poor girl for about ten bloody minutes-“

“Boy, is she worth staring at.”

The other Gryffindors set off in a round of laughter and jesting before Dumbledore began his speech and the whole hall fell silent. Whilst the tournament champions should’ve been interesting, Fred was much more interested in your profile. Throughout the announcement, he watched you with a smile, his grin growing when your eyes met his.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #imagine #writing #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine

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