#LOL SORRY I JUST NEEDED TO WORD VOMIT SOMEWHERE

[aastarions]

crazy how you can be with someone for so, so long and still fall more in love with them every day

[clownsalot]

im very normal about fuuta in general but i dont think im ever going to emotionally recover from his fire motif and what it represents for his character and how he reflects the greater theme of justice so that means i must rant about it

(more under the cut because this got longer than i expected whoopsies)

so anyway fire is pretty obviously supposed to be symbolic of his passion for justice right? that fire is all over the place in bring it on. he's wielding it to take down enemies, his signature weapon is a flaming sword. it's what he uses to lead the campaign against the people he's after, the people he's deemed in the wrong.

it's a fucking flaming sword, it's badass as hell!!!! it's what a hero of justice, a knight, would use!!!! it's cool as shit, it's his symbol of justice.

that's how he sees his justice in trial 1.

he's righteous, he wants so badly to believe he was a hero, he was doing it all for a good cause, for justice. his passion for justice was a tool he used to meet those ends, to be a hero, to wave it valiantly in the face of enemies.

the fire, however, is conspicuously absent once he's noticed the blood on his hands

interestingly, despite backdraft as a song title being much more related to his fire motif than bring it on, fire is actually surprisingly absent from the mv's visuals. fire, as in actual orange burning fire, doesn't show up much at all in backdraft except for when both fuuta and his victim begin turning to ashes, and a short bit near the end right after the last chorus when the spraycan explodes in fuuta's face. you know what the mv does show a lot of though?

smoke. and ash. the byproducts of a fire, the byproducts of fuuta's passion for justice.

bringing it back to firefighting for a moment: as many people have already pointed out, backdraft as a firefighting term refers to when a fire that has consumed all available oxygen suddenly explodes when more oxygen is made available, such as when a window or door breaks. the thing about fire hazards, though, is if the fire and the heat don't do someone in, usually it's the smoke. the smoke inhalation causes breathing difficulties and suffocation, making it even more difficult for a person to escape the fire.

in backdraft, instead of fire itself, what we're shown is these byproducts of a fire. the smoke is damaging to human health, and the ash shows that the fire has burned things up and caused destruction, in this case killing someone. all we're shown is the negative results of a fire, in sharp contrast to its badass, positive portrayal in bring it on.

hell, even fuuta himself starts turning to ashes and the spraycan explodes in his face, showing how even he is experiencing the negative results of a fire that has gotten out of his control, how even he has gotten burned by his passion for justice. or, is it es' desire for justice?

translation of fuuta's t2 vd by onigiriico

Me, too! I was like that, too! I also didn't think it'd turn out that way!

You and I are exactly the same breed! The only difference between us is the clothes we're wearing.

fuuta's justice and es' justice, it's all the same in his head now, he directly tells es that they're the same, that we're the same. it's all the same hunger for justice that ends up causing harm even if that wasn't the intention.

you know that saying that fire is a good servant but a bad master? i think that's pretty applicable to fuuta's situation. his passion for the pursuit of justice was great when it was still a tool, a sword he could wield, after all he did manage to shed light on some people's wrongs and bring them to justice. but once it exploded, when it became a backdraft that even he could no longer control, it did more damage than he intended.

it burned even him, it killed a middle schooler. and he recognizes that in backdraft. he only shows us the ways fire that becomes a hazard can go wrong.

translation of fuuta's t2 vd by onigiriico

What did I do? All I did was say that what's wrong is wrong! I was just going off at a bad person online!

I didn't think they would die! I just thought that wrong things are wrong, and that a crime is a crime! You get that, don't you? See? Aren't we the same?

it's just. fire is such a good metaphor for the message of fuuta's character and his arc. it's an amazing illustration of how dangerous it is when you feed a desire for justice too much, when you forget to put a boundary on how you handle that fire. eventually the fire spreads just like how passion for justice becomes zealotry, until more and more things fall under what you consider to be 'punishable' by your standards and goes out of control to hurt people that probably didn't deserve it. it's a warning to set proper boundaries on our own definition and desire for justice and what's 'right' so the good intentions doesn't spiral into harm. it's a reflection of our attitudes towards milgram as the audience responsible for their justice and forgiveness. it's amazing i love it i love fuuta's fire symbolism i love fuuta's character arc and i love milgram's writing so so so much

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (pt. 1)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: Hey! Got a request for a teen!fic with Barca women’s team (focus on Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid if possible). I’m a sucker for angst so would love an angsty storyline, maybe an injury or off pitch event or something!

word count: 2,375k

summary: your parents pass away 2 weeks before the champions league final, but you don't tell anyone, which of course has knock on effects.

genre: angst/hurt warnings: disordered eating, vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, drunk driver/car accident, alcohol, struggling alone, body dysmorphia.

a/n: this is my first full length fic i'm posting on here, so i hope you enjoy it. sorry if the spanish is bad, i tried lol. would love requests and feedback as this had taken me literally ages. thank youuu :)

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Ever since you were a little kid, 4 or 5, you had wanted to play for Barcelona. Your papá had taken you to nearly every game you could make it to, and you loved it. That was always a special time, just you, and papá, and football. That was how you liked it. You and papá. Of course, you loved your mamí too, more than anything, but she didn’t quite love football just as much as you, but she was always supportive and tried her best to understand. So when the contract came for the first team of Barcelona Femení, you couldn’t put pen to paper fast enough. And suddenly, papá wasn’t just coming to games to watch the team, but to watch his own pequeña princesa (little princess) play.

And you absolutely dominated too. At first, you were just another new signing for Barcelona, a young kid that would probably barely ever play and hardly ever get started, but you quickly squashed those assumptions, scoring a hattrick in your debut game, shocking Camp Nou into near silence. You celebrated every goal by making a heart with your hands over your eyes, looking through the gap, where your papá would be cheering and clapping for you. Everything you did, you did for your papá… sound familiar? Every award you had won was dedicated to him, every goal, every game, similar to your mentor and current roommate, Alexia Putellas. When you signed for Barcelona, you had needed somewhere to stay as you and your family lived just outside the city, and after Alexia had met you, she had immediately offered. So that’s where you lived, in an apartment with Alexia. And occasionally, her girlfriend Olga. 

But Alexia wasn’t the only person you’re close to, Mapi and Ingrid often hosting you for sleepovers on weekend or Friday nights. You loved Mapi, always interested in her tattoos and their stories, or the funny things she’d tell you about Alexia or Ingrid. And Ingrid was great too. 

You loved all the Barca girls really, the second you stepped foot in there, they welcomed, loved and accepted you. Especially Ona, who you had become really close to, and Lucy and Kiera were always funny when you tried to teach them Spanish. Lucy was pretty good, but Kiera could barely make her way through “¿Hola, cómo estás?” (Hello, how are you?) without stuttering or looking around for reassurance. She was teased for it a lot, but it was all in good fun. All in all, you loved it at Barcelona, and now anywhere with that team felt like home. 

This season, you have been killing it. Scoring at least one goal every game, often two. And now, you've made it to the Champions League final. 2 weeks before, you got the most devastating call of your life. 

“Is this Y/N L/N?”

“Si, who is this?”

“Uh hola, this is the Police Department of (your hometown), and we regret to inform you that both of your parents have been involved in a serious car accident, they were hit at high speed by a drunk driver. Unfortunately neither of them have survived the impact.”

The phone slipped from your hands, clattering to the floor. Everything went blurry, the tears clouding your vision, and your knees shook until you found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor. Thankfully, Alexia and Olga had gone out for dinner that night, so you were home alone, otherwise you would’ve immediately had people at your side, and you couldn’t think of anything worse right now. 

So… what now? No more papá, no more mamí…

You didn’t know what to do. So you just sat on the kitchen floor, and cried. And cried. And cried some more. “Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be my parents?” you thought, the stages of grief already hitting you hard. 

After another hour and a bit longer of crying, you retreated to your room. You curled up in your bed, staring off into space, thinking about all the little things you didn’t have anymore. No more hugs from mamí, no more of her cooking, no more one on one time with papá, no more childhood home to go back to, no doubt your Tia (aunt) would sell that the second her greedy, money-loving little mitts could, no more papá. No more mamí. The two people that kept your world spinning. 

You decided you weren’t going to tell any of the team about it, not yet. Maybe after the final. There were a few reasons you’d thought of, one; you didn’t want them to pity you and treat you differently, two; you didn’t want to make them worry over you anymore than they already, and three; you just couldn’t bear to actually voice the words. “My mamí and papá are dead.” It was too much, too painful. So, you just stayed silent.

You didn’t get out of bed or leave your room much anymore, unless it was for training or other football stuff. That made Alexia begin to worry, you were always happy, and cheerful and hyper and pestering the others. But now you seemed like a shell of the person you were, which was partly true. You didn’t enjoy life much anymore, you just barely managed to drag yourself out of bed each morning, no breakfast, training, then back home, and back to bed. Spending so much time in bed was something you thought to be ‘lazy’ or ‘slobbish’, although you still couldn’t manage to muster up enough energy or fucks to give to get out of it. So you began skipping meals. Not intentionally per say, but you certainly weren’t trying overly hard to eat either. 

And when you look in the mirror nowadays, in a strange, twisted way, you prefer what you saw. You look older, more mature like the other girls in the team, not the baby-faced 16 year old the public sees you to be. So you make even less effort to eat. You know you should, that an athlete starving themselves was like trying to drive a car on empty, but you simply can’t part with the new reflection you saw, the ‘beautiful’ and ‘mature’ one. 

Finally, the day of the final rolled around, and everyone was extremely hyped. The locker room was buzzing, music blasting, girls dancing around, and the atmosphere generally excited. But all you could feel was the emptiness of your stomach, the pounding in your head from the harsh drum beats of the music, the way the backs of your ankles had large red blisters from how your skin had thinned and now the bone rubbed right against the back of your cleats now, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, knowing that neither of your parents were in the crowd. So you kept quiet, avoiding conversations unless they were completely necessary, slipping out of the locker room as soon as you had finished changing. 

You were starting today, playing up the front with Alexia. You two had become known for your chemistry on and off the pitch, goal scoring machines on it and best friends off it. Alexia had been insanely worried about you recently, living with you, she had obviously noticed your tendency to stay in bed and skip meals, she’d always push for you to eat, but you always passed it off with a “Sorry, I’m not feeling well, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” “Oh, no, gracias, I’m not hungry.”. 

You jogged onto the pitch behind Alexia, before joining the line facing out to the stadium while the National Anthems played, Alexia had her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and her firm grip and presence felt like it was just about the only thing holding you up in that moment. You refused to look at the place where your parents always sat, not being able to bear the sight of someone else sitting in their seats. 

The first whistle blew, and you played well for the first half, scoring a goal in the 26th minute after Alexia set you up for a header. You didn’t really know how to celebrate it, there was no point in doing your usual celebration, because there was no one to look through your heart hands at. You barely even smiled, letting the team just crowd around you with a group hug type thing before getting back to it. You scored again about 10 minutes into the second half, the equalizer, the score was now 2 all, but once again, you barely celebrated. Running on an empty stomach had meant that the game had drained most of your energy, and you weren’t really in the right frame of mind for playing anyway, stuffed full or starving. 

Now, it was the 89th minute, and still a draw, someone needs to score, and quick. You snapped yourself out of the hazy, barely-there headspace you’d been playing in previously. Now was not time for being floaty and sloppy, now was the time to focus. You yelled at Alexia profusely for the ball, 45 seconds on the clock. She made a shit pass, but you managed to recover it. There were 2 defenders on you, and you were barely past halfway with no support, but a quick glance at the clock and you had made up your mind.

You shot. From halfway out. It was a powerful shot, with the perfect curve and force. You watched as it flew through the air, the stadium silent, but the second the ball hit the back of the net, the noise was near unbearable. 20 seconds to go, you’d scored a hattrick, won Barcelona the final, scored from halfway out, and not even celebrated. 

3-2 to Barcelona.

The final whistle blew. All Barcelona goals had been scored by the 16 year old girl. The 16 year old girl that hadn’t eaten in 2 days, the 16 year old girl that had no family to her name but an aunt that never liked her, the 16 year old girl that had secretly been an orphan for 2 weeks, the 16 year old girl that didn’t even know what to feel anymore. 

This was your dream. Win the Champions League for Barcelona. It’d been your dream for as long as you could remember. But it didn’t mean anything now. Not without papá waving his silly flag from the stands, cheering louder than everyone else in the section, wearing your jersey, waiting with open arms when the sound of the last whistle rang through the stadium. 

You stumbled off the pitch, the exhaustion and lack of fuel to keep your body going hitting you all once. You felt weirdly light, your head spinning and vision blurry, steps uneven, like the ground was moving beneath you, like you weren’t really controlling your body.

Eventually, you got to the locker room, where there was thankfully a few sandwiches and some Powerades laying around from before the game. As much as you really, really, didn’t want to eat them, you knew you couldn’t pass out. Not now anyway. So you swallow the two sandwiches down, washing the bready taste away with the Powerade, trying hard not to think about all the carbs and calories in the meal.

You made your way back out to the pitch. But you didn’t go into the middle to celebrate with the other girls. You just plonked down a little way in from the sideline, just staring out at everything, the crowd, the girls, the losing team, the fans, the losing fans. It wasn’t like you at all. You were always in the action, partying and pestering, but now, you were intentionally avoiding it. You hid away in the dugout when you saw the team looking around for you. Their star player. “The goal scoring machine at 16”, as some fans had nicknamed you.

“Y/N? What are you doing chica? Come celebrate!” Alexia called at you from the sidelines, grinning, a slight confused furrow in her brows. 

Welp, hiding place blown you guess. You sigh and get up, painting a fake smile across your face and letting Alexia wrap her arm around your shoulder as she leads you back to where the rest of the team are, in the middle of the pitch.

“Y/N! Our little superestrella (superstar)!” Mapi yells, excitedly making her way towards you, the rest of the team rushing along behind her, wanting to celebrate you. Attention. The last thing you wanted right now, but you were being smothered in it. 

Eventually, the team retreated from the pitch, and into the locker rooms. That was okay, there was far too much alcohol and drunk women in there for you to be allowed in, being underage still. So you went home. Despite practically winning the Champions League for Barcelona, you just ordered an Uber and took yourself home, flicking Alexia a quick text to tell her you’d left.

You got back to the shared apartment and struggled your way through a shower before crashing into bed, and crying. Bawling. Sobbing. Shaking. At one point, screaming.

Over the past two weeks, you had gone through a lot of the stages of grief, but most recently, anger. 

Why? Why had it had to happen to them? What had they done so wrong that the universe needed to kill them? Why you? Why them? You couldn’t remember your last words to them either, so nowadays any time someone left, you made sure to say a real goodbye. 

You had passed out after around 2 hours of violent crying, having cried so hard at one point you’d had to lean over the bed to be sick in the wastebasket between your nightstand and the mattress. It felt good, as your mamí had always said, better out than in. It also made you feel a tiny bit better about the sandwiches earlier too.

It wasn’t until 10am the next day Alexia stumbled in the front door. She wasn’t drunk anymore, but looked insanely hungover. She cracked the door to your bedroom and looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

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a/n: sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger! but i just want to see how well this goes before launching into a second part. feedback would be greatly appreciated, but of course please be kind! 

requests for a part 2 (or any other requests): here

[starlordsandrockets]

One Bad Party

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

word count: 6k

summary: After being broken up with at a house party, you return back to the compound at 3am to find Peter waiting for you.

a/n: Heyyy sorry I've been playing Baldur's Gate to escape my writers block. But here you go, feedback is appreciated bc I feel like this fic fell flat a bit??? Idk lol

There was only one question that kept crossing Peter’s mind whenever he saw you sneaking out of the compound to see your boyfriend: Were you sleeping with the guy?

Peter had no right to be this jealous. It was not like he had a chance with you. Peter tried, but he could barely hold a conversation with you without withdrawing into himself. He became a stuttering mess and before long he would find himself retiring, far too embarrassed to stay in the same room as you.

Peter looked up from his textbook. He was sitting in his dim room, studying at his desk. Or at least, he was attempting to study. The only thing running through his mind was the outfit you were wearing as you left the compound. 

Your bare leg flashed past your large black coat as you brushed off a comment from Tony. A black satin slip could be made out, hugging your curves as you wrapped the coat’s fabric around you, wishing to hide yourself from Tony’s judging gaze.

The thought of you was pushed out of Peter’s brain as he pushed out his chair, rising to his feet. He needed to clear his head for a bit.

Peter found himself staring into the kitchen’s large fridge, eyes scanning his options without a single processing thought. He wondered if you were coming home tonight. Not that it mattered, it was not like there was anyone special to come home to. Reaching out, Peter grabbed a cold, glass bottle. Studying the label he shrugged before opening the beer. The cold glass pressed against his warm skin as he took a sip.

The alcohol could never affect his senses, unless he were to make sure of it, but he still liked the taste of beer. He winced after his next sip, second guessing himself. Glancing at the time, it was almost three in the morning and Peter found himself praying for your arrival to the compound. Clearly, he needed some air to push his clouded thoughts of you out of his head. Right?

“Friday,” Peter spoke quietly with his drink in hand. 

“Yes Peter?”

“I’m going outside,” He informed the system.

“Of course, Peter. It is currently 40 degrees. I would recommend a jacket,”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, hand finding a hoodie that he managed to leave in the lounge last night. How Tony had not thrown it on the ground in front of his bedroom door already was a surprise. 

Opening the door, the cold air hit him, making him shiver slightly.

Peter remembered what you had on when you left, and he only hoped you were inside somewhere nice and warm. Placing his bottle down on the tiny porch’s only step, he took an awkward seat on the cold stone. He rubbed his hands together, now wishing he had made a warm cup of coffee instead. Placing the bottle against his lips, he tilted his head back. He studied the stars as he took a few large sips of beer.

“What are you Tony’s guard dog?” Your voice rang through his ears, taking him off guard. You watched him begin to choke slightly, “‘Cause you’re shit at it,”

“N-No,” His single word was separated by a heavy cough, “I couldn’t sleep,” Peter knew half a beer was not affecting him, but somehow he was feeling a little confident, “and I noticed you weren’t back yet so-”

“So you’re up playing parent?” You studied where he was spread on the step, blocking your way to the door. Sure, you could go around him, but you already stumbled your way up the compound’s extremely long driveway.

“No- I just- it’s so cold and I was remembering what you were wearing when you left and I-” Peter rambled below you.

“Please give me a break. I heard enough from Tony before I left and I sure as hell don’t want to hear it again, especially from you,” You shot back. Your words were almost flowing like vomit, slurring and sloshing out of your quivering lips.

“No- No I- Y/N,” Peter shook his head. Moving his hands, he attempted to stand up, however his arm knocked against his bottle. The glass fell against the stone, shattering almost instantly. Staring at it, he almost laughed at how it reflected the conversation that hung in the frigid air.

“You’re in my way and I’m cold, so please,” Your gaze fell to your pointy heels as you wrapped your coat’s fabric around you tightly. Closing your eyes you did not want to see Peter stumbling before you in response to your hurtful tone. However, you also did not want him to see the tears that were forming in your eyes, “goodnight,” You muttered, pushing the heavy door open. 

“Y/N,” Peter called after you. He watched as you attempted to outrun him, however your imbalance twisted your ankles in your heels, “Hey-” He called out, reaching out, he steadied you as you began to crumble.

Inhaling, your stuffy nose played audibly, directing Peter’s gaze, “No,” You spoke defensively, “No- I’m not- it’s not. Peter,”

“What did he do?” Peter studied your face, “Your makeup- Before you left, you did that little thing you started doing,” He motioned to your eyes, “the little flick. And now it’s gone and your mascara is smudged under there-”

“Peter…” You stared back at him, confused as to why Peter would pay so much attention to you, if any at that. He was Spider-Man and you were Tony’s assistant who just got to live here because it was more convenient for the billionaire.

“No, because did he do something?” Peter questioned. His voice cracked slightly, making him clear his throat.

“Why do you care?” You questioned back, not sure where the question came from. Well, you knew because that is exactly what you were thinking. But, you were unsure as to why you were so blunt. Maybe you were still a little buzzed.

Peter’s hold on you loosened as the question passed through your lips. He could not confess to you, not now. He had thought of so many ways to tell you how he felt, and this was not one of them. 

He studied your appearance. Your makeup was a ghost of the painted picture it was hours before, and your posture was folded in on itself, as if you wished the dark compound to swallow you and allow you to hide away, “Because I knew he’d do something,”

“Y-You,” You stuttered, “don’t even know his name,” Peter’s brown gaze was serious, and it was a look you had never seen him wear. You were never around for important missions, just to make small talk to him at the coffee maker or Tony’s stupid little lounge parties.

“Don’t have to,” Peter spoke, “if he treated you any better I feel like you would’ve mentioned him to someone. To Nat when you guys share your coffee in the morning or Mr. Stark would bring him up during his parties to embarrass you… or to annoy me,”

You did not address his last claim. You just wanted to go to your room and cry, “I’m just… I’m a private person,” You shrugged, not meeting Peter’s gaze any longer. You heard him laugh slightly, a short exhale passing through his lips, “what?”

“I just- My body doesn’t let me get drunk so you wouldn’t believe how much I know about everyone from Mr. Stark’s dumb parties,” He watched as you met his eyes once again, “Y-You,” He paused, your gaze stirring up butterflies, “You say a lot when you’re drunk,”

“Like what?” You pried, watching Peter smile slightly.

“That’s how I found out,” Peter spoke, “Mr. Stark-” He paused, remembering the night Tony had tried so hard to get the two of you together after finding out Peter’s crush on you, “he suggested spin the bottle,” He heard you scoff, “Yeah well, that’s when you refused to play because you ‘met a guy’ and it was ‘kind of serious’,”

“So,” You spoke, “We were,” The word slipped as your gaze froze.

“...Were?” Peter questioned.

“Peter,” You shook your head.

“What do you mean?” Peter pushed.

“Peter, I’m tired,”

“Did he break up with you?”

“It’s like 3am and I want to get this fucking dress and heels off,” You spoke over him, watching him freeze in front of you.

He could help you with that, “Sorry,” Peter spoke, “You don’t have to tell me,” Peter wanted to slip that dress off of you.

“It’s not,” You sighed, feeling guilty as if you kicked a puppy, “It’s not like we talk. You know? When’s the last time we had a conversation like this?” You watched as Peter’s posture straightened in front of you, but in reality it felt like he was about to crumble from your piercing words.

“Right…” Peter spoke, knowing when to take a hint. “Sorry,” He stepped aside, allowing you to claw at the straps of your heels. It felt as if he was letting you slip right through his fingers. Sure, he did not want to be a rebound but at this point, he did not want you to think he had no intention of ever speaking to you, “It’s not that I haven’t tried,”

“What?” You questioned, planting a bare foot on the ground. The heel hung loosely in your grasp as you stared back at him.

“I try to talk to you- A lot actually… but,” Peter specified, “I’m just not great at it- I mean, I’m not even good at it,”

You paused, as awkward silence fell after Peter’s words, “Okay,” You smiled slightly, “Well, maybe we can talk in the morning? Over breakfast? If I’m not hungover,”

“Right,” Peter smiled in defeat, “Sure,” He watched as you pressed your lips in an awkward smile, the lipstick that was once there was now faded. You slipped the other shoe off your foot before turning towards the hallway. You made your way a few steps down the hall to the elevator doors, leaving Peter to stare right at you from where you left him, “It’s because I like you,” He spoke, surely low enough.

The elevator dinged but you did not walk inside it, not yet. You were at a standstill, your brain processing Peter’s quiet confession. Staring into the bright elevator, you watched as the doors began to slowly close. How could Peter like you when you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you? Why would anyone like you?

“You’re-” You mumbled, “You’re fucking with me,” Turning, you dared to meet Peter’s far off gaze, “Stop fucking with me,”

“W-What?” Peter stuttered, watching you walk closer to him.

“You’re Spider-Man,” You informed, watching his head tilt slightly out of confusion.

“...Yeah? Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Peter questioned, his eyes trailed all over your body, forgetting that you could see his every move.

“Why would you…” You wrapped your coat around you in response to Peter’s gaze, “I’m just Tony’s assistant,” You stopped in your tracks, not able to get any closer to Peter.

“Why would I?-” His question fell short as he realized you had heard his quiet confession, “Oh,” Peter watched you nod shyly, “Don’t… don’t you want to get out of your clothes?”

“What?” You questioned, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment.

“No- No! God, I just-” Peter stammered, “You said you wanted to change- I thought you could do that and maybe like, take off your makeup and then we could talk. Or, or we could do that in the morning- if you’re not hungover,” He repeated your earlier claim.

“Yeah… yeah,” You spoke, “I’ll go- I’ll go change,” You nodded, lips pressed together, “but, could you help me? These heels killed my feet,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, “Yeah, of course,” He was hesitant, hands reaching out. Peter hand touched you before, when he caught steadied you moments before, but now it felt different. Now you know, “Here,” Peter took in a quick breath before he slipped your large coat off of your skin. You almost looked nude, the dress under your coat was small compared to the coat’s large exterior. He folded the fabric before he tucked it under his arm, “and I can carry those,” He reached out towards your shoes that hung off of your curled finger.

“Thanks,” You smiled to yourself. However, your smile soon faded to a blank expression as you felt Peter’s fingertips on the small of your back. His hand soon flattened and you swore you could feel his sweaty palm through your thin dress.

***

The two of you silently made your way through an awkward elevator ride and stumbled your way to your room. Peter opened the door, watching you slip past him and into the dark room. You let out a loud sigh of relief after Peter shut the door behind him, “What?” He almost laughed.

“Feels good to be home,” You replied, “That party was a fucking nightmare,” You smiled, your lips quivered as you felt tears threaten to spill, “I didn’t want to go. I shouldn’t have,”

“Y/N,” Peter said, approaching you, he gathered a handful of your dress’s fabric, “Remember what I said,” The tone of his voice drew your attention. You never heard that slightly dominant tone pass through his lips before, “We can talk after. Okay?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, lips pressed nervously, “Right,” He began to hike up the fabric, the cool fabric tickling your thighs, “Peter,”

He had started helping you without a second thought. Peter was completely lost in you, functioning on autopilot. Your words brought him back to reality, “Sorry- I,” He turned, facing the wall, “I’m sorry- I forgot I was done helping. I got you here,”

You slipped the dress over your hips and past your chest, “Yeah,” You broke the silence, “but,” That word made Peter turn his head in time to check a glance of your exposed skin. The dress’s fabric covered your face as you slowly slipped it over your head. 

Could you see him staring? Peter took in the sight of your underwear and push-up bra for another second before turning his head back to the wall. His face must have been red. He felt his cheeks begin to grow warm. Peter also felt something else begin to grow and he hoped it was not noticeable.

“Could you help me?” You continued, now slipping a long, black night shirt over your skin. You wished you had anything else to wear to bed, anything sexier than an oversized shirt.

“Help with what?” Peter questioned, back still facing you. He watched as your room lit up a bit brighter from switching on the bathroom light.

“My makeup,” You almost groaned, “I’m too tireddd,” You placed your arms on the counter’s cool surface. Looking at your reflection you were reminded of the night you just had. Your mascara pooled under your lash line but you were still surprised Peter had noticed, “Peter,” You called out, hands covering your face, smudging your makeup even further.

Peter entered your small bathroom, taking in the space he had never seen before, “What’s up?” He watched as you blindly dug through one of your drawers. A pack of makeup wipes appeared in front of him as you leaned further onto the counter, a tired groan vibrating past your lips, “Okaaay,” Peter laughed, “Come’re then,” He took the pack, setting it down before he reached out. Turning you around, you faced him now. Your eyes were still closed from when you were rubbing your tired eyes, “Just one?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, finally opening your eyes. That is when you realized how close Peter was. You studied his hands as he peeled open the makeup wipes. His fingers were long and slender, making something in you stir. You focused on his fingers moving around the cloth in his large hands.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, taking hold of your face with his free hand, “I have to see your face to take the makeup off,” He laughed. The smile quickly faded as he studied your face in his hold, a look of embarrassment flooded his face. Peter realized not only how close he was to you, but was reminded just how pretty you were. Nervousness traveled up his spine, making him shiver slightly, “Right,” He spoke, clearing his throat as you stared back up at him.

His touch was gentle as he replaced his hand with the makeup wipe, making you jump, “cold,” you muttered, nervous at Peter’s closeness.

“Sorry,” Peter replied, rubbing the makeup off of your skin.

“Don’t look too close,” You laughed, “I’m not that pretty up close,” You chose your words wisely, not wanting Peter to think you were baiting for a compliment.

But that was exactly what was running through Peter’s head. Peter was trying to find the right words to say so he did not seem like he was as obsessed with you as he was, “I think you’re pretty,” Was all he managed to admit, watching your gaze snap right to his loving brown gaze, “I mean… I can move-  if you think I’m too close,”

“You think I’m pretty?” You mentally kicked yourself as the cliche question slipped past your lips.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. Pretty was an understatement, “You’re probably the prettiest girl I know,” He tested the water.

“Nat and Wanda live here,” You spoke, “So I think you’re lying,”

“Nah,” Peter focused on your eyes, “Close your eyes,” He instructed, watching you do as you were told. He felt as if he should use this to his advantage, that way you could not affect him with your gaze, “I thought that since the day you got here. Plus, Nat and Wanda kind of scare me,” He watched you smile slightly.

“I don’t scare you?” You questioned, feeling his breath on your skin, making your lips press closed.

“A little, but in a good way,” He admitted.

“Yeah?” You laughed to yourself, eyes still closed, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Peter did not answer, he was far too embarrassed and lost in the thought of you. The ‘good way’ was that it turned him on, “There,” He finally spoke as he studied your cleaned face.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You spoke, however your words fell short as Peter dragged the makeup wipe across your mouth.

“Sorry- Missed a spot,” He teased, watching you stick out your tongue at the bitter taste of the wipe.

You made your way to the sink, washing your face with cold water. Peter stood silently behind you, studying you through the mirror. Or you assumed so, not daring to meet his brown gaze.

“Sooooooo… you want to talk about it now?” He finally questioned as you dried your face off on a soft towel.

“About the party?” You questioned, hanging up the towel, “Or… about what you said? Earlier,”

Peter’s head fell, studying his fingers that intertwined, absentmindedly, “W-Whatever… whichever you want to first,”

Walking out of the small bathroom, you placed a finger on its light switch. You stared at Peter, waiting for him to follow you, “Yeah… whichever,” However, Peter did not budge, “That party…” You started, “that paaarty was… the worst night of my life,” You laughed before switching off the light. Walking over to your bed, you fell back onto it. However, you regretted it, feeling the alcohol move around in your stomach as your head spun, “...fuck. I’m so fucking stupid,”

“You’re not,” Peter interrupted.

Raising your head, you stared at him for a moment before your gaze returned to the ceiling, “I knew he was talking to someone else. I mean, I suspected it. Turning the phone away when I was too close. Locking it as soon as I entered the room. The lying… I could tell by the mannerisms, by his facial tics,” You groaned, “But you know… ‘he was different’... I was just into him because he barely gave me the time of day unless we were fucking,”

Those words clicked in Peter’s head. 

You were fucking that guy.

“The one time I mentioned him to Tony and he read him like a book and I just… God, I just didn’t want Tony to be right,” You somewhat laughed, “Because I hate it when he’s right,”

“You deserve so much better than that guy,” Peter spoke.

“What? I should be glad he fucking cheated on me? Glad that I showed up to the party, only to find him grinding on her ass and she was wearing the same fucking thing I was wearing?”

“Y/N,”

“What?” You heard the pity in his voice, “I don’t need you to feel bad for me-”

“I’m not- I just can’t believe anyone would do that to you. It pisses me off because if I ever had a chance with you I would never take advantage of it,” Peter admitted, “You’re way out of my league- and I bet you were for him too- and god if I ever fucked up like him I think I’d be the biggest idiot,” You stared back at him, a small smile sat on your lips, “...What?”

“You… actually do like me?” You questioned.

“Well… yeah,” Peter replied, red-faced, “I’m- I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yet. I feel like I’m so obvious. Literally everyone here knows it,”

“I had no clue,” You almost laughed.

“Really?”

You both felt the mood shift, as Peter sat at the end of your bed, “Yeah… I don’t know. We hardly talked and when we do you always end up leaving… you know,” You rambled, staring at the ceiling, “I always thought I scared you or something, you know, because I just… don’t know how to talk to people really. Everyone I meet always goes off to tell someone they think I’m stuck up- Or if I don’t talk I’m a bitch,”

“I like hearing you talk,” Peter spoke, absentmindedly. Your eyes fell on him as he looked down at you, “You- You’re… interesting and really cool,”

“Y-Yeah?” You laughed somewhat at his awkwardness, “Well… thanks. You too- I mean, you’re cool…too,”

“I-I’m… not cool, like at all,” Peter looked surprised, “I’m super awkward and I like the dumbest stuff,”

“It's not dumb,” You picked up your head, “You’ll convince me to finish Star Wars one day,” You watched a grin curl his lips, “Really. I like it when you talk about stuff you like. I really like it,” You watched Peter’s hand move towards your face. His fingers brushed back some hair that sat out of place, “...My ex- Well he was always too cool to like anything. You know- one of those guys. He was too cool for everything…”

“How about we don’t talk about him anymore” Peter spoke. He stared at you, wanting to touch you. So he tested the water, running his fingers through your hair.

“Mhm,” You hummed in response, eyes closing with each pet of your head. Your eyes felt heavy as your body reminded you that it was probably around four in the morning.

“Do you want me to leave?” Peter questioned, catching a glimpse of your closing eyes, “so you can sleep,”

“No,” You admitted, “I want you to stay and keep touching my hair,” You heard Peter laugh from above you.

“Fine, but I need you to get on the bed more,” He stood up, waiting for you to position yourself on the bed from where you happened to just flop over.

You slowly got adjusted under the covers as you watched Peter walk towards your bathroom, “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”

“Mhm,” You hummed again as you waited for him to return. You heard the light switch off as you felt your heart begin to beat faster at the idea of Peter sharing a bed with you, “You don’t mind staying, right? Is it weird?”

“No… I mean- do you think it’s weird?” He questioned, standing at the side of your bed.

“No,”

“Yeah… it’s fine then,” Peter almost held his breath as he entered your covers. He could hear your heart racing next to him, however it was almost overpowered with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

Peter laid on his back as he felt you shifting by his side. He did not dare look your way, eyes fixated on the ceiling of your room as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.

“Goodnight,” You whispered from your spot next to him, feeling Peter’s body jump slightly from your quiet voice breaking the heavy silence, “sorry,”

“N-Night,” Peter replied, hearing you laugh to yourself from behind the sheets.

***

You stirred, as light from the room’s large windows broke your slumber. Your head was pounding as you tried to recall last night. That is when you remembered that the arm that was wrapped around you was Peter’s and not your ex��s.

Peter’s arm laid across your hip as you laid on your side, eyes staring at the wall, attempting to process what exactly unfolded last night.

You were not drunk. You remember every moment, but every moment felt like a dream.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Peter’s sleeping face.

Your gaze traveled across his soft skin, eyes bouncing from freckle to freckle. His lashes fluttered, looking as if he was still experiencing a dream.

Reaching out, you rested your hand on his side. You felt Peter pull you closer to him while he slept, “P-Pete,” You whispered, afraid of your morning breath.

“mmm,” Peter groaned as you shook him slightly, by his waist. You watched as he eventually stirred awake, “H..hey,” He spoke quietly, eyes barely open, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not as good as you,” You joked, as his hold on you tightened. Peter still drifted in and out of his sleeping state, “Since… you know. You’re all cuddled up next to me,”

“Hm?” He questioned, eyes finally opening, “Oh- Sorry,”

“It’s- It’s fine,” Your hand took hold of his shirt before he could attempt to move away from you. You stared at his face, his brown gaze refusing to meet your eyes. Every thought that bounced around your head told you to kiss him, hell, every cell in your body was inching towards him; grasp on the fabric pulling your bodies closer.

For a moment your gaze fell to his lips before your lashes fluttered shut, lips pressing against Peter’s for a forceful kiss.

Taken aback, Peter’s eyes widened before they squeezed shut as he attempted to hold back the lust that began to flood through him, “Hey- he- hmm,” Peter hummed against your lips as your kiss smothered any word that attempted to leave. He kissed you back, hands traveling underneath the hem of your shirt’s large fabric.

His sweaty palms traced your curves, studying you even behind closed eyes. Peter felt himself begin to be swept away, worried he would not be able to resurface. Pushing you away by your hip, he attempted to pull out from your hungry kiss, “Hey… Y/N,” Peter watched as your mood shifted almost instantly, looking as if your heart had shattered all over again from the night before, “No- no, it’s just- Y/N I won’t be able to stop,” Peter attempted to explain, “Y/N, I want you… I think about it more than I’d like to admit and it always ends up with me not being able to help myself…”

“I want you… Peter,” You thought for a moment, “I need you,”

“I don’t want to hurt you like he did… or worse,” Peter thought about his strength.

“You won’t. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” You sat up, watching Peter roll onto his back. Picking up a leg, you swung it over his own, straddling his waist. You were never this forward, but you were always this desperate.

You always had feelings for Peter, you just never thought someone like him would reciprocate.

With that thought, you felt Peter’s hands grasp the plush skin of your thighs, “You- You’re sure?”

“Please,” You breathed out before Peter flipped you on the bed, pushing your face into one of the bed’s plush pillows. You felt as he hiked up the fabric of your shirt, exposing your panties to him. His dominant palm rubbed circles on the side of your ass before you heard him take a deep breath.

This time, it was time for you to take in a breath as Peter began to pull the fabric of your panties down.

You would be lying if you said you were not self continuous about Peter seeing your body for the first time in such an intimate way. The entirety of your last relationship had you on edge, hoping you were good enough.

Suddenly, the bunching fabric halted, making your breath stop as well, “Relax,” You heard Peter speak. Bending over your back, Peter planted a kiss on your ear, making you shutter.

“I- I just… he really messed me up I think,” You laughed to yourself, “so. So I don’t think you could ever hurt me more than him,” As the claim left your lips, Peter flipped you back onto your back, “Pete-” You heard the tearing of fabric as Peter, literally, ripped your panties off your legs.

He shifted down on your bed, ignoring your claims to the torn fabric. Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as he grew closer to what was hidden behind the silky fabric. Placing his hands on your knees, he spread your locked legs, “Hey,” He watched as you locked eyes with him and that is when he felt a switch flip in him, “I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore,” Your wide eyes stared back at him, “Okay?”

You nodded.

“I want to hear you say it,”

“Okay…” You mustered the courage.

“Okay? Okay what?” Peter’s fingers trailed along your skin. Closer and closer to your wet folds. His touch circled you almost teasingly.

“I won’t talk about him anymore,” You answered.

“Good,” Peter almost smiled, but there was a newfound cockiness behind his words. His thumb brushed against your clit, “Why shouldn’t you?”

“What?” You almost whimpered, wanting the teasing to end.

“Why shouldn’t you talk about him anymore?” 

“I… I don’t know,” You spoke with frustration. However, Peter’s gaze made you think about giving a better answer, “Because… because I deserve better?”

“Is that a question?”

“No…” You whined as Peter gently thumbed your clit, however it was not enough, “Peter please,”

“Fine,” Peter smiled at your desperation. Lowering himself, he placed your legs over his shoulders. He took in the sight before him, fingers running through your wet folds, “You’re so wet... You like it when I tease you or something?”

“...No- it makes me mad,” You spoke, unfiltered, not wanting to focus on the fact that Peter was seeing your flaws so up close.

“I don’t know, I think you like it,” He spoke, inserting his index finger into you, watching you wither in front of him, “So pretty,” Peter spoke under his breath. He listened as you attempted to hold back a few quiet moans, “You sound so pretty… wanna hear you,” Curling his fingers, he hit you at a different angle, making your eyes roll, head rolling back into your pillow, “Yeah?” He almost laughed, “Right there?”

You nodded, knowing if you parted your lips, you would not be able to shut up. However, Peter had other plans, his fingers moving in and out of you even faster. “FFffuckk,” You moaned, eyes screwed shut, “Pete-” His name was cut short, interrupted by a louder moan as Peter’s lips found your clit. He gave it a wet kiss before his tongue explored you.

Your ex never did this, and if he ever did, the foreplay lasted only long enough to make sure you were wet for him. Mentally, you kicked yourself, finding your brain occupied by your ex even though Peter just told you to not talk about him, “Are you thinking about him?” You heard Peter ask like clockwork.

“W-What?” You stuttered, opening your eyes. Looking down, you meet Peter’s dominant gaze.

“You stopped moaning,” Peter spoke, “Your eyebrows are all… furrowed- and not in a sexy way,” He added an extra finger into you, hearing you moan at the action, “I can stop- If you’re not over him I’d rather stop than you think about him the whole time,”

“No- No… Sorry,” You breathed out, “I- I know you told me not to talk about him but- I… I was just thinking about how he never… he never did this,” You rambled as Peter’s fingers still pumped in and out of you slowly, “fffuck- and- and I just-”

“Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time,” Peter somewhat joked before his lips returned to your clit. He placed a wet kiss between your legs before he continued to pleasure you.

“Please,” You breathed out, almost relieved. You were relieved that you no longer had to beg for anything you deserved, because Peter was ready to give it to you instantly.

A shaking moan passed through your lips as Peter inserted a finger into you. He was slow at first, taking in your small, breathless moans; however he found his hunger for you growing.

He continued to work you with his mouth and finger, before inserting another digit. Pulling away from your heated skin, Peter spoke, “I wanna hear you say my name,” He breathed out.

“W-What?” You stuttered through your waves of pleasure.

“Wanna hear you say my name,” Peter repeated, “And I never want to hear you say his again,”

“Mm,” You groaned at his dominance.

“What was that?” Peter questioned, slowing his fingers that pumped in and out of you. It pained him to do so, he wanted to please you desperately, but he also wanted to prove his point.

“Yes,” You breathed out, “...please,”

“Please?” Peter questioned.

“Pleaseee,” You drew out, mustering the courage to speak his name in such an intimate setting, “Peter,”

“Good,” Peter’s lips curled into a subtle, cocky smile. His fingers found their previous pace before pumping even faster.

“Ff-fuck,” You moaned. You heard Peter hum in response, as if he was questioning you, “Peter,” You repeated his name. With that his smiling lips return to your clit, his tongue only increasing your pleasure, “I- I’m so close,”

“Need you to cum for me,” Peter spoke quickly before returning between your legs. He found a rhythm that made you a stuttering mess, and stuck with it.

“I’m- I’m going to cum,” You moaned, hand falling between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his soft, brown locks. Your hips jutted, meeting his tongue halfway with each thrust. You felt as if you were losing your mind, not sure when the last time you experienced this much pleasure was, “Fuck Peter- I’m-” Your words fell short as you came. Your eyes screwed shut as Peter continued to taste you. Waves of pleasure jutted through you, making your body twitch with each stroke from Peter’s tongue, “f-f fuck- too… too much,” You breathed out, hands trying to push Peter’s face away from you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, crawling up your body. He fell to his side, laying next to you on the bed, “How was that?” He watched your chest rise and fall as you attempted to catch your breath.

Small laughter fell from your parted lips as you realized just how long it was taking you to recover from the pleasure, “I… I haven’t felt like that in… well, in a long time,”

“And that’s a good thing? It was good?” Peter questioned, hoping that his attempt would make you forget all about your ex.

“No- Yeah,” You breathed, “I haven’t cum that hard in awhile,” You added, “Just… just give me a minute and we can keep going,”

“Keep going?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah. I mean, you’re probably really hard,” You spoke, “or… I hope you are,”

“Yeah,” Peter laughed, “I am. But we can stop,”

“Why?” Your head turned towards him from where you stared at the ceiling, “Do you not want me anymore?”

“What? No- I mean. I want you,” Peter spoke, “I really want you- but I. I want to take things slow… with you,” He studied your worried expression, “If that’s okay,”

“Oh… yeah,” You nodded, “I just. I thought you’d want me to return the favor,”

“Another time,” Peter spoke, “I’ll be waiting- but no rush,” He watched you laugh to yourself.

Peter was the kindest person you have met in a long time and it made you wonder why you even settled for anyone else.

“Fine,” You agreed, “but I thought you ‘wouldn’t be able to stop yourself’,” You almost teased, watching Peter roll onto his back next to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” He laughed.

“Yeah… so forgive me if I thought something was wrong,” You spoke sarcastically.

“I just- I didn’t want to do whatever he did,” Peter spoke, “Because I like you and I don’t just want to fuck you,” Peter spoke, “I just want you to understand that. And I want you to have time to get over him,”

“Thanks,” You spoke quietly, “...You wanna go make breakfast?”

[jaehyunsprincesspeach]

awh!!! the love at first sight is too cute that i had to request a little something...

anyways, you know this like trope (does it even count as one?), where like person A keeps on dreaming / thinking this particular "imaginary" person not knowing that that person actually exist?!? and then they just like run into them at somewhere where there isn't much time to like plan i guess? example, person A is about to miss the last train or something when they just walk past this person and be like, wait a minute, isn't that person who i kept dreaming / thinking about??? :0 and then person B is just confused cause why is person A acting like they've met before ykwim? so like that but it's the scenario where skz members keeps dreaming/ thinking about this person they don't even know existed and then actually running into them one day in a really "rushed" scenario lol

so so sorry for the lengthy word vomit, i got carried away :( and remember to take your time and take veryyyy good care of yourself otherwise i'll hunt you down >:( /hj

i’m obsessed with this !! thank you so much for the request , i’m sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy !!

apologies in advance, this is a bit lengthy, but i hope it fits each member !! feedback is always appreciated 🤍

all the love ~ lunar

Am I Dreaming?

skz ot8 x reader

warnings : super fluff

scenario: he can’t stop thinking about you, and the worst part is, he doesn’t even know if you truly exist. with the number if people he sees everyday, its hard to remember names or faces, but out of nowhere, you appeared in his dreams. weeks have gone by, and you are there every night, a face without a name, without a voice, still, a face that he longs to meet. a face that he longs to memorize and learn more about. a face of someone he thinks would change his life, if you truly exist. for weeks, you are in his dreams, to the point that now wherever he goes, he looks for you. in crowded rooms, in quiet coffee shops, even in the crowds at his concerts, he’s always looking for you. after a few months his hope slowly drifts away, leading him to believe you are simply part of his imagination. one random day, he’s rushing around with the rest of his team, Stray Kids, trying to get through the crowd of fans outside of their show, and back to their hotel. fans swarmed the front doors of the hotel, and they are pushed inside, where you are waiting to simply leave for a meal, which proves to be impossible with the number of screaming fans outside. how you managed to book a room at the same hotel as Stray Kids is a shock to you, but seeing what they are going through right now, you quietly sit in the lobby, not wanting to make them more stressed than they already must be. finally, the group manages to burst through the doors, practically stumbling through the lobby, as the hotel security does their best to keep the fans outside. that’s when he sees you.

Bang Chan

Chan would be counting his children, when he sees you sitting in the lobby. you are reading something on your phone, trying to ignore the curiosity of the commotion that is unfolding right in front of you. he would finish what he needed to do before approaching you, shyness evident in every movement, but confident enough to approach a complete stranger.

“excuse me, im sorry to interrupt you, but have we met before? this may be weird, you just look very familiar…” he would say, trying not to startle you, or make you uncomfortable.

“I dont think we have… im y/n.” you say with a gentle smile.

its the smile that makes him realize you are the person from his dreams. he would introduce himself, and try to have a conversation with you, before being pulled away. before he leaves, he would make sure to get your phone number, saying that he would love to get to know you more over a cup of coffee. i feel like he would want to text you right away, but he waits till a few hours passed before asking for your room number, emphasizing that its not what you think it is, but five minutes later there is a knock at the door, and when you open it, you are greeted with chocolate covered strawberries, and a note that says “surprise, I hope you enjoy, can’t wait to talk with you more”. I think it’s safe to say, you were swept off your feet immediately, even after the rather rushed introductions.

Lee Know

oh goodness, this man is upset. he loves his fans with his entire heart, but after a long day, he wants to simply enjoy a quiet area, reading a book that he has been putting off for a while now. when he stumbles through the door, he keeps his composure very well, though it is evident that he is not in the greatest mood with all of the commotion that he just had to make his way through. he sees you as Chan is doing a head count, making sure that everyone is accounted for, and he simply cannot take his eyes away from you. I don't think he would approach you right away, but when you catch him staring, and give him a smile, he might finally walk over and start talking.

"Im sorry, I don't mean to stare, you just look really familiar."

"That's okay, im y/n"

the two of you would have a very light conversation, mostly him explaining what was happening outside, and what all the commotion is, and then Chan would drag him away. Lee Know would ask the person at the front desk to send chocolates or some sort of dessert to your room, with a note that tells you to meet in a specific area of the lobby to talk some more. hes really not sure what this feeling is, but he simply cannot bring himself to stay away from you. from the first interaction, he wants to talk with you for as long as he possibly can, even if he has to risk getting into trouble.

Changbin

Changbin would simply stop functioning the second he sees you, but contrary to Lee Know, I think he would approach you rather quickly. he knows you are the person he has been dreaming about, but he doesn't want to come off as weird, so he would gently ask if he has met you before.

"excuse me, have we met before?"

"I don't think so, but im y/n! its nice to meet you!"

he wouldn't have too much trouble, and lucky for him, he happened to be wearing a shirt that accentuated his muscles (hehehe hes totally trying to flex without being obvious about it). rather than being dragged away, he would ask why you're in the lobby in the first place, and would offer to escort you wherever you are going. when he finds out you are trying to go get food, he immediately takes you to the concierge to order, and goes on his way, leaving with your number of course.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin gets so nervous omg !! you would catch his eye, and he would just stare at you for a minute trying to connect the dots. when he does, he refuses to make eye contact, though you've already caught him staring. you would probably have to initiate any sort of conversation with him, but once the two of you start talking, he would get even more nervous.

"are you okay? your cheeks are flushed.."

"y-yeah im fine, just feels like we've met before..."

"i don't think we have, but maybe in a past life"

the two of you would start talking about theories about past lives before Chan walks over and pulls Hyunjin out of the conversation. he would ask for your number very shyly, but would spend the rest of the night texting with you about anything and everything (cute !!)

Han

Han completely stops functioning, but unlike Changbin, he wouldnt approach you at all. he would be a nervous wreck the entire time, even after you start a conversation with him, cause honestly you would have to approach him first.

"are you okay? youre staring quite a bit..."

"y-yeah"

"are you sure?"

"y-yeah"

poor baby, he really doesnt know what to do.... Chan has to literally drag him away… once he comes to terms with everything he would probably freak out about not getting your number and totally embarrassing himself… creds to Channie for getting your contact info for him, cause if not he probably would have never had the chance to speak to you again…

Felix

Felix would have no issues walking up to you. he’s sociable, but there’s no doubt that he’s nervous !! he does a fairly good job at hiding it, but the blush that dusts his cheeks, and the shy tone he speaks with totally gives it away…

“hi, i’m so sorry to bother you, but could you tell me your name? i feel like we’ve met before…”

“i don’t believe we have, but im y/n!”

please give him a gentle smile, it’ll warm his heart and calm his nerves a little bit. honestly he might not approach you immediately, as he wouldn’t want to bother you in any way, but once he decides, he sticks to it, and carries out a very gentle conversation, ending up with your number before anyone has the chance to pull him away. 100% sends you some sort of dessert with a super sweet message on it, while texting you for the rest of the night.

Seungmin

when Seungmin sees you, he would be so shocked … like big puppy eyes activated, as he tries to remember where he has seen you before. once he finally makes the connection, he would approach you. on the outside he looks confident, but honestly he’s freaking out on the inside.

“hi, this might sound weird but i think ive seen you before… can you tell me your name?”

“oh, i’m y/n! i don’t think we’ve met before though…”

he would want to get as much information about you in the short time that he has, and wouldn’t have any troubles asking for your number, but as soon as he walks away, his breath becomes heavy like he was holding it the entire time… fake it till you make it right ?

I.N.

sweet baby angel would NOT approach you. he would pull one of his hyungs aside and point you out like “hyung, she’s the girl that’s i’ve been dreaming about!” would do his best not to stare but he just finds you so mesmerizing. whoever he pulled aside would probably be the one to walk up to you first.

“hi, my friend over there thinks he knows you from somewhere … could we get your name by chance?”

“my name? y/n… but why doesn’t he come talk to me if he thinks he knows me?”

with that, his hyung would convince him to go talk to you, and as nervous and shy as he might be, the two of you would hit it off pretty well !! as he gets more comfortable, before being pulled away, he would get your contact info. i think like Chan he would wait a little bit before messaging you, so that he doesn’t come off as weird or anything like that, but the two of you would talk about literally anything and everything for the rest of the night !!

[alex-just-vibing]

Hcs on Solar System finding Kel crying by himself? (With him obviously denying the claim and telling them that he's fine)

ooh, I actually had a fic idea in my head kinda like that! (not solar system, but baseball bat. but I can change a few things)

This is less headcanons and more just word vomit/a pseudo-fic lol (under read more for the benefit of everyone here lol) Cuz I know I wouldn't be able to rest until I got this out of my head now (thanks a lot anon /lhj)

Sunny, Basil, and Aubrey were walking through the streets of Faraway Town, looking for the last person they needed to complete their group. They were hoping to find somewhere to just hang out at, whether that be one of their houses or somewhere else, like the park, Hobbeez, or maybe Gino's, but they didn't want to do it without Kel.

He wasn't at his house, and when they asked his mother where he was, she told them that he'd just gone for a walk. They thanked her, and she said to them, as she always does when they stop by, that they're welcome there anytime.

After stopping by his house, the three of them decided to check the park to see if he had stopped there while on his walk. He wasn't there either. Aubrey suggested checking their secret hangout spot, and the other two agreed that it wouldn't hurt to try.

None of them were particularly expecting him to be there, but when they walked past the trees into the area, they saw Kel sitting on an old picnic blanket. He was hugging his knees to his chest, and his forehead was pressed against his knees. His face wasn't visible from where the three others stood, but it was obvious something was wrong.

Aubrey was the first to approach him. She walked up to him and kneeled next to him. He didn't seem to notice her.

"Is everything okay, Kel?" she asked. She then saw the tears streaming down his face and facepalmed mentally. Of course he's not okay, what kind of question is that? She can't recall the last time she saw him cry...

Kel turned his head to look at her, before smiling weakly. "I-I'm fine!" He brought his hand to his face and wiped at his tears. More fell, replacing the ones he wiped away. "Don't worry about me!"

Sunny and Basil had also walked over to him. Sunny sat down next to him, as did Basil. Sunny gently grabbed Kel's hand.

"No, Kel." Sunny's voice was firm, but caring. "You aren't 'fine.' And that's okay." He squeezed Kel's hand slightly.

Basil cautiously placed one arm over Kel's shoulder. He leaned his head slightly against Kel's shoulder. "We love you Kel. A lot. We want to be here for you, the same way you always are for us."

Kel shook his head at their words. "I'm... I'm fine, really! You don't need to worry about me..." His voice was shaky and broken up by sniffles. He continued trying to wipe away his tears, but they just kept flowing.

Aubrey pulled him into a hug, not saying anything just yet. She let his head rest against her chest, and she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

Basil moved closer to Kel, leaning against him to hopefully be a comforting presence for him. He turned to fully hug Kel, and he buried his face in Kel's shoulder. Kel in turn moved his face to rest in Basil's hair.

Sunny scoots closer, so that he could be sitting right next to Kel. Sunny didn't let go of his hand while moving, and once he settled into a comfortable position, he squeezed Kel's hand again.

"I'm sorry." Kel's voice was barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't mean to worry you guys..." When he spoke, his voice broke, then trailed off into a near-silent sob.

"It's okay, Kel," Sunny reassured him, and he rubbed his thumb over Kel's knuckles. "You're allowed to cry. Just let it all out. We aren't going anywhere."

The four of them sat in a comfortable silence, which was only broken by the occasional sob from Kel. After a good few minutes, Kel's crying seemed to slow, then eventually stop.

Basil noticed that Kel had stopped crying, and he was the first to speak. "Kel... Would you want to talk about why you were upset..?" His tone carried genuine concern and love.

Kel paused for a moment, before shaking his head. "No... Not right now..."

Sunny nodded. "Okay. We'll be here for you whenever you're ready." The other two nodded in agreement, all three of them smiling warmly at Kel.

"Now, weren't we planning to hangout?" As she spoke, Aubrey started to stand up, and she extended her hands to help the other three up. Basil and Sunny stood up first, then all three of them pulled Kel up.

Kel smiled, chuckling lightly as he was pulled up. "That sounds nice... How about a sleepover at my place?"

[hawkp]

I can't guarantee anything. But I might write a Kirk Bros fic because of you. Any ideas on what kind of thing would be the most fun and/or heartbreaking with that? (Again, no guarantees. I'm kinda flighty sometimes.) You've made me think more about them than normal, so if you need to yell about them, I may yell with you. (Sorry if this is too random, or annoying, or anything.😅)

So sorry but this answer might not make much sense. I have the stomach flu and just woke up from fourteen hours of sleep because I broke my fever. This is how I feel rn.

So if it doesn’t make sense please ask or message me for clarification. Everything below is just word vomit at this point.

ANYWAYS

NO NOT RANDOM I LOVE PPL YELLING even if it’s something I don’t know about. I just love when people are passionate about stuff.

I have like 30 WIPS sitting in my google drive so I totally understand you. I also started a Kirk Bros fic. It’s just a lengthy outline right now that starts right at the end of 2x10 and would end after the four Enterprise crew members are back on the ship and recovering (because everyone is going to be messed up as hell, especially La’an and I’m sure that someone will be dead in the show).

But these are some things I’ve thought about including in my WIP! Please feel free to run with them. Seriously, take them from me!

Disclaimer, in my fic I’m retconning Sam’s wife and kids from TOS because I haven’t found the SNW mention of her, which is apparently there somewhere, but I didn’t want to have to include the daddy dynamic of Sam’s character into it lol.

So first off, Pike doesn’t end up deciding if they’re pulling out, Una does. They only pull out far enough to not be in immediate danger, which is still against Starfleet orders, so they’d be breaking some regulation already and be in a wacky sort of limbo.

Then, how difficult it would be for Pike to tell Jim. I feel like he’d save him for last after contacting everyone else’s families… which I now realize those four have very little of. Jim would just know that something is wrong off the bat just from Pike’s face. He might even jump to the conclusion that Sam is dead and then the reality of his situation when Pike tells him ends up being so much worse. From there, Jim is dead set on joining them for a rescue mission, even if he has to break some regulations himself. Also at this point Christopher is a freaking mess ofc.

My biggest issue with writing the Gorn right now though is figuring out how to not have them immediately kill or do the dermal impregnation thing that’s going on with Batel, to the four of them and the settlers from the planet. I’m toying with the idea that the Gorn have been possessed by another entity. There’s an episode of Enterprise where some crew members contract a “silicone based virus” that was a whole separate species and I was thinking about trying to emulating that somehow.

I have a lot in my brain that happens between the exposition and the rescue but of course my whumpy ass had Sam being in the worst shape out of the group when they get back to the Enterprise. I think if I did go the infected Gorn route then the “virus species” will have been experimenting on Sam and he might be totally catatonic by that point and from there it would be blah, blah, blah recovery blah, blah. <- my brain literally cannot form a better sentence to communicate this rn

The actual first scene I wrote for the fic was Sam telling Jim about how picturing their childhood got him through everything that happened and specifically telling him the story about the first time he held him as a baby. Idk what kind of crack I was on that night but he ends it by telling him that he knew it was his job to take care of him as soon as he set his eyes on him. Did I write that because I’m the oldest sibling? What? No.

So anyways… yeah I have a lot of thoughts on this. And if you’d like to write something together I’m down for that too!

[ofmermaidstories]

hello, darling mermsy!! i’m back, yet again, with another brainrot proposal for you — but this time for our blasty boy!

we’ve heard of dekules, but are we ready for bakushang? shangkugo? (basically just katsuki as li shang, i’m realising only now that there’s no easy way to merge their names together <//3) they’re both tall, dark, brooding, but are soft and caring if you get through to them deep enough. our courageous, troublemaking Y/N and the newly appointed captain of the emperor’s army, bakugo katsuki! what a perfect match!!

i believe this isn’t by any means an original idea!! i know andy has a fic about this (it’s absolutely incredible, melted my brain just three chapters in) if u haven’t already read it!!! just wanted to get your take on this if u haven’t already done one yet, bc i recently rewatched the 1998 mulan and had the lightbulb to word vomit about this to you!!!

hansy!!! my love!!! i’m sorry, i meant to slip into your inbox to wish you well/ask how your exams went—are you free from the perils of schoolwork, yet??? you’re so clever, i bet you did well. 🥺🍀

but okay let’s play, LOL. War Paint was one of the very first BNHA x Reader fics I ever read so I will always be fiercely loyal to it!!! Saying that, and I mean this with nothing but absolute love Andy, DONT @ ME, but reading War Paint gave me less Mulan vibes and more Song of the Lionness ones.

(Simplifying it—really simplifying it—a girl pretends to be her twin brother so she can train as a knight! There’s lots of magic and even some romance and Tamora Pierce has been one of my favourite authors since I was a kid!)

I think it has to do with the fact that War Paint is focused on barrack/training/castle life and the subplot with the thief—whereas when I think of Mulan, I think of war.

Mulan is one of my favourite 🅱️isney movies!!! I first saw it when my primary school had a fundraiser—they set up a projector and screened Mulan and I very distinctly remember being overwhelmingly excited as the opening credits started (I nearly choked on my red twists/twizzlers) and my Dad telling me I had to be quiet LOL. If I had to make a graphic showcasing all the fundamental pieces of media to both my personality and who I became as a person, Mulan would be centre of it. 🥹

(PSA: true to your heart is a bop and has been in my liked songs on spotty ever since i’ve had an account!)

Tbh, I’d never seriously tackle a Mulan-inspired fic just out of respect for Andie Trousers Multipled by Several, but if I did, I would absolutely play hard into the war angle LOL. Maybe even indulge in some war crimes!!! You know that scene where they finally make it to the village in the pass and it’s been burnt to the ground? Yeah. Yeah. 😌 I think we can ramp that up. Have our Reader and Captain Bakugou & Co engage in some Revenge War Crimes. People are bastards in wars already, without feeling justified about it. I was literally just watching a documentary the other week about some Aussie soldier who’s facing trial (has faced trial?) for being an absolute cunt—one of his lighter cruelties involved him shooting a family’s tied-up dog as he searched their home, so take that, take the power people feel like they have when you give them a weapon and a uniform, and then put them in front of a massacred village and see what happens next. 🔪

And idk id guess there’d be a romance in there somewhere too. 💀💀💀💀 tbh im more interested in the war tho LOL. (BECAUSE!!!! LISTEN!!! i like a challenge!!!!!!!! And I think trying to fic-ify an AU that dovetails closely to the (🅱️isney) Mulan tale brings up a lot of interesting questions when it comes to world-building, and like what you need to avoid/honour, especially if you’re borrowing from an actual, real world culture for it. The Mulan legend is Chinese, for starters—and My Hero has a Japanese cast written by a Japanese man. So, okay, maybe to simplify things for ourselves we Fantasy-AU it—but then do we eurocentric the world around them, to play it safe? Is that less playing it safe and more whitewashing? My Hero being Japanese informs the canon characters, which are traits that spill over into our fanon. Traits that we love! So is it a disservice to them to strip them of it, just so we can play War? Does this stripping make it worse when we bring in atrocities like slain villagers, and revenge acts? Do we honour canon by letting them keep their Quirks? How badly does that ramp up things then???? Like, idk, I could literally bang on about this for hours (and have, in the group chat LMAO im sorry besties 😭))

This is literally too much overthinking for your ask, Hansy, I’m sorry. 😭 ITS IMPORTANT THO. Because the world around them informs our characters!!!! So pretending we sort all that out, now we have our upstart, hot-as-shit Captain Bakugou, who has idolised General Toshinori for years now—and he’s out to prove he can train the best of them!!! Except he’s working with like, farm boys! Gutter-rats, given the choice of this or execution! Maybe there’s a cohort of like, genuine scrappers, but Captain Baku here has deliberately been given the bottom of the conscript list: this is a test. And I!! Personally!!! Think that should make him an utter bastard when dealing with our Reader!!! I think in canon, Bakugou is like, learning that people need more than to be told “u suck, do better” so I like to believe Captain Bakugou would try—maybe he and his lil friends learnt hard in a trial by fire when they were kids, during the First War—so he’s earnt this leadership role. But he’s used to fighting with peers! Peers that knew what they were doing! And now he has to oversee the training of like, the most inept civilians he’s ever witnessed! I think we could justify him losing his cool—specifically with our Reader. 😌

A Reader who doesn’t take it!!! I’ve always liked that in 🅱️isney’s Mulan, she does it for her father. So I’d give that same motivation to our Reader—a tomboy who’s always been better at giving the village boys a run for their money in their little games, who’s always wanted to go and play with them when they roughhouse. Maybe to make things more interesting, we introduce a fiancé—one of those same village boys! They grow up together, have an arranged match. Maybe he’s genuinely kind, in love with Reader whereas Reader’s just kinda like, ho-hum—but then the War pt. 2 rolls in, and he’s swept off in the first round of conscription (so that there’s no one left to volunteer in Reader’s place for her dad, in the next round!).

Oh. You know what? We could ramp up that massacred village scene by making his platoon or whatever they’re called the ones that were stationed there—so Reader finds fiancé’s helmet!!!!! And then she’s all like, omg, 😧. And then she could tie it to her saddlebags and eventually bring it home to his folks. 🥺

(Reader and Bakugou could prop themselves up in their grief, maybe? Because I know in the film the stationed army is overseen by Li Shang’s father, right? So maybe in this version it’s like, idk, Jeanist or Edgeshot or something. Maybe Endeavour? Less because I think Bakugou would be cut up about it, and more because that means we could throw Todoroki in there as well, like, presumed dead (and then he’s NOT because I know Andy would have my head if I killed off her Special Angel Man in a fic!!!), but then that means in the meantime that Bakugou can mourn one of his besties (and they are besties!!!)).

I don’t want a dumbass Bakugou, either, so I think we’d have to follow Andy’s lead and have our Captain clue in early-on that Reader has been lying about their identity. And Bakugou just admires tenacity so he’s less like omg my gendernorms are being called into question and more like FUCK why won’t this useless extra get better at FIGHTING??? That could also maybe make any romantic moments kinda interesting—Reader could have this whole internal thing of, oh my God, he doesn’t know the truth, I’m terrible, is he going to be embarrassed when he finds out??? And then you have the actual reveal—someone else making the discovery, and wanting Reader executed for it, and then Bakugou’s refusal to do so is less a begrudging “you saved my life, and now my debt is paid” and more a silent confession of his feelings!!!!

I just—there’s so much you could do!! There’s so much you could do with all of that!!! Urk!!!! I wanna rip into it with my TEETH. I just—aJFDLKSFJLKSDFJLdmfhfskdmhj.

[moodymisty]

hhhhhh sorry to jump in your ask box again but I am just still so hung up on Angron. just the image of him knelt down clenching his fists to channel the rage at the unfairness of it all while lil reader gently touches his face and kisses him😩 the small little kindness he feels he doesn't deserve and wished he'd never experienced cuz he knows it's just going to be taken away by the nails. it's all rotating in my head like a rotisserie chicken lol. I'm conflicted on how I want their story to end. on one hand gut wrenching tragedy can be as satisfying as it is painful. and on the other I just want the poor dude to be happy and know peace. like nails removed and maybe he suffers from like chronic migraines or memory issues or something as a side effect but the rage is gone and he feels more human than he ever has before. just ugh you've made me feel things and I needed to word vomit them out somewhere lol. unrelated aside, found the Darksiders games bundled for cheap so I got that now XD

Hell yeah word vomit away never apologize! I'm glad my silly Angron fic gives you feelings. The ask box is always open for unhinged ramblings. Angron deserves a few moments of happiness before he goes full demon mode <3 He's one of the primarchs that got fucked over hardest by circumstances (Konrad and Mortarion also, hmm i wonder if there's a theme here) So it's fun to pick his lil' brain apart. Poor guy's spent his entire life in a gladiator pit, he's literally never known anything but pain and horror. I want to give him a smooch.

I did see a Nails removed AU/Loyalist Angron AU in a style that I really liked, and I'm honestly considering it to. Part of me really wants to write that, but also I really like the tragedy of him being doomed to forget his little historitor no matter what happens. I dunno, maybe I'll do a poll and see what people want more? Everyone pls feel free to voice your opinions XD

Also hell yeah welcome to the Darksiders camp! Personal tip, play/watch Darksiders Genesis last, there's a bunch of cute references in it to the other games so I think it's best enjoyed when you can pick up on them despite it technically being a prequel. But that's not required at all, do the path you enjoy most. The games are underrated gems and and there's a ton to enjoy in them. I hope you enjoy the series!! (also read the book if you want!! It's great too)

[izzy-b-hands]

Fish

Wanted cute Rizzy stuff, but also partially inspired by the legend on that one post who gave himself the nickname Fish in college, and then it got sad by the time I came back to this as a WIP weeks (EDIT 3/7/23, make that uhh a month or more lol) later so...yeah. Please heed the TW below. There is some cute and soft and sweet in here, but it's more bittersweet overall than I'd previously planned.

TW for emetophobia and the death of a child.

---

"Ed sent you?"

Izzy frowns. "Yes, Edward sent me. He said you needed an extra pair of hands, then spent about ten minutes joking about how I would be best because-"

"Izzy Hands," Roach finishes with a chuckle. "That is funny."

Izzy shrugs, but a smile almost makes its way to fruition.

"Great, I have four patients here in a two patient shack," Roach sighs. "Come on in."

Inside he has his two adult patients sharing the one cot, the colicky baby in the cradle, and the toddler-

Immediately throws up on Izzy's shoes.

"Hi," Izzy peers down to the toddler. "Bad night?"

Roach watches as the kid looks up, sniffles, and breaks into a wail.

His plan was to have Izzy keep an eye on the adults, but before he can say a word the toddler is scooped up and on Izzy's hip.

"I get it," Izzy sighs. "Feel any better?"

The kid smashes his face into Izzy's shoulder and whines. It's adorable and sad, considering how long the parents said the kid had been sick like that. Long enough to scare Roach and wonder how much he could actually do for him.

But for now, he's being comforted and that means just maybe he can finally get medicine down his throat.

"This is..." Roach frowns. "Fuck, they didn't tell me his name."

"What do they call you?" Izzy asks the kid, a hand rubbing his back. "Hm? Give us a name."

"Fish," the kid mutters.

"That..." Izzy hesitates, and Roach can tell he wants to say something about how that's probably not actually the kid's name.

"That's a nice name. Do you get to go out to the beach and see the crabs and fish?"

A nod as Fish lifts his head from Izzy's shoulder.

And vomits on him again.

"I am so sorry," Roach winces.

"Not the first time I've been covered in sick, mine or someone else's," Izzy sighs. "Won't be the last I'm sure. Just be grateful I don't sympathy puke like Ed."

"What?"

"He's never told you? He and Jack would get horribly sick after a week of drinking nothing but rum, and they set each other off every time they heard the other vomit," Izzy replies. "Then again..maybe don't tell him I told you that."

Roach nods. "Might lose another toe otherwise."

Izzy smirks, but there's fear in his eyes.

"Fish," Roach turns his attention to the toddler. "Can I give you something to make you feel better?"

"No."

"It'll help," Izzy coos. "Roach is a nice doctor, let him help you."

He's almost too much in shock to snag the bottle of unfortunately bitter medicine, as Izzy sits himself and Fish on a chair in the corner.

Fish wriggles not unlike a fish out of water, but Izzy keeps him on his lap.

"I know," he murmurs. "But once it's down, then you can lay down and sleep. I bet you're tired."

"NO!"

Izzy chuckles. "Yeah you are. But okay, what do you want to do after the medicine instead?"

That seems to take Fish by surprise. "...beach?"

"I bet your mum and dad would take you to walk on the beach after this," Izzy says. "For a little while at least."

Roach has a million questions. Clearly Izzy has been around kids before, enough to withstand the grossness and tantrums that came with them. But what was the source? Siblings? Did he have kids like Stede, hidden away somewhere? And with who?

But he shuffles them away and kneels in front of them, bottle and a spoon in hand. "I promise I'll give you some water right away after if you keep this down, okay?"

Fish nods, but a little hand grasps Izzy's thumb tight before he opens his mouth for the medicine.

They both wince as Fish closes his mouth around the spoon, lets Roach pull it out...

And promptly vomits it back onto Roach's face.

"Okay," Izzy says. "Second time is the charm, maybe."

Roach nods and breathes through his nose as he lifts up a corner of his apron to wipe the foul liquid off his face. "One more try."

"Can we put anything else with it?" Izzy asks. "Something to mask the flavour?"

"I don't have anything," Roach replies. "Or I would."

Izzy wraps an arm around Fish to keep him in place before pulling a small wrapped square out of his pocket. "Here. Chocolate, meant to be for Ed, but I'm sure Bonnet's already bought him some."

Roach shakes his head. "I...okay. Sure. Thank you."

The second go around they work like a well-oiled machine: Roach tips the medicine into Fish's mouth, Izzy gently tips Fish's head back with a finger to his chin, and when he bobs back down with tears in his eyes, Roach pops a sliver of the chocolate into Fish's mouth.

"Oh," Fish sniffles, then reaches for the rest of the chocolate.

"A little bit more," Roach hands over another sliver. "Don't want you eating it all if you can't keep it down."

He expects Izzy to ask to leave, patience finally exhausted, or at least to insist on helping with the adult patients instead.

But he walks Fish around the room in his arms, patting the toddler's back and talking about sea creatures in the softest tone.

"Sleeping?" Izzy whispers after a few hours.

Fish is out cold on his shoulder, drooling.

Roach nods. "Let me see everyone else out, then I'll help you with him."

The adult patients head out, sufficiently treated and supplied with additional medicines and instructions. A while later, the colicky baby's mum returns bearing an aunt happy to help them for the next few nights.

Then, it's just them and Fish.

"I'll put him on the cot," Roach whispers as he gently tries to pull Fish from Izzy's arms.

Fish wraps his arms around Izzy's neck in response.

"It's okay," Izzy coughs, a hand reaching up to carefully loosen Fish's grasp. "I've had worse nights."

Izzy winds up sitting up on the cot, with Fish snuggled against him.

Even if it wasn't adorable, Roach would be doing his best to keep awake in case Fish gets sick again, or if his parents should show up ready to try and take him back home.

But as it is, it's surprisingly cute, and Roach can't take his eyes off of them.

--

"Roach."

"Roach!"

Roach stirs and frowns at the sun streaming into the shack. "Shit."

"It's okay," Izzy says, standing beside the chair Roach is slumped in. "I mean...his parents came by."

"They did," Roach sighs and yawns. "Good."

Izzy frowns. "Roach. He passed a few hours after that. His parents seemed to know. They said their good byes and asked if we could cover the burial. I told them yes."

Roach looks over to the cot, and his heart breaks.

A motionless little body, wrapped in a sheet from the cot.

Fish.

"I should have tried something else," Roach says. "I knew that might not be enough-"

"His parents tell me," Izzy groans as he kneels by the chair. "He'd been sick like this for a good month. Sometimes there's only so much that can be done."

"I know-"

"And I know that you know," Izzy interrupts, a hand rubbing Roach's back. "But a reminder never hurts. You gave him a safe place to rest, medicine to try and help, and a treat he might not have had much of before."

Roach nods, leans forward, and drops his head into his hands. "It should get easier."

"It should. But it doesn't," Izzy sighs and stands again. "They marked a spot near the beach. So they'll know..."

Izzy's voice drops, then returns with a slight shake. "So they'll know where he is."

"Who did you hire, for..."

"I didn't," Izzy says. "Not the first person I've buried. Won't be the last."

He carries Fish as if he might break apart in his arms, following Izzy out of the shack and down towards the beach.

There, Fang and Ivan stand with shovels.

Izzy nods and takes both from them. "Help him get the little one ready."

"You did your best," Fang murmurs as he helps Roach sit on the grass and dirt of the little patch just before the beach. "And Fish knew it."

He nods. It's what he can manage. He hasn't lost a young patient in a long time.

He forgot how much it hurts.

"Izzy had us pick up some things from his parents," Ivan adds, setting a burlap sack down beside them. "Things they'd like with him."

Another blanket to wrap him in. Hand stitched, clearly a baby blanket. The name Elias stands out in black thread.

Fang cries with him while they wrap him up further.

A few soft toys, that Ivan tucks into the folds of the blanket with the gentlest touch.

The plush fish is what does it.

"I'm sorry," Roach whispers while Fang and Ivan lift Fish, rather, Elias, into a small wooden coffin.

"You don't have to be sorry," Ivan says as he sits back by Roach, watching Fang argue with Izzy over taking a turn digging. "Mate, you did more for that kid than probably half the doctors that have been through here in the month before us. Don't beat yourself up."

"He wanted to go to the beach," Roach says, as he realises tears are flowing down his face. "He didn't get to see the fish again like he wanted, and we told him if he took the medicine-"

"He's at the beach," Izzy hands the shovel over to Fang mid-argument, and heads over to Roach and Ivan. "See? As close as he can be without the tide taking him."

He doesn't know what to make of this Izzy, who lets vomit dry on his clothes without a second thought, makes up impromptu silly songs about fish and crabs and eels to make a kid smile, and who wraps an arm around Roach now.

But maybe it doesn't matter, for now at least.

He leans into Izzy, and takes his offered hand when they stand again.

"Take a walk," Ivan nods. "Both of you. Then, and I swear I mean this kindly-"

"A shower, bath, something," Izzy finishes. "We will before we come find everyone. Can you let Ed and Stede know..."

"We've got it," Fang calls. "Stop worrying!"

"You know they don't know how to do that," Ivan says, turning to Fang. "Especially Izzy. He worries about worrying."

Fang gives a knowing nod, and Roach lets Izzy lead him on down the sand.

Maybe they'll see some fish. He hopes so.

[writingmochi]

i knew you would catch onto that, i feel like i can't stop talking about that two-shot when i see your url! it's really impacted me a lot and- i'll stop before i really do expose myself but you may already know who i am... or do you???

ahhh i want to ask is it the jakarta or the bulacan one?? for... research purposes :> i feel like regardless you'll have an amazing time!! and i think doing things by yourself needs to be a thing! like solo dates sound so fun, i'm yet to do that but sometimes my social anxiety gets the best of me and i don't want to do anything out unless i have my friend or my sibling with me to make me feel a little better >.<

i am a writer! (another hint) but i completely understand,, sometimes i always think about how much easier it'd be if people could just understand what you're thinking about in terms of scenarios etc because trying to find the write way to describe things can be a little tricky when it isn't exactly how you want it to portray. thank you though! i will be writing again very soon!

happy timezone!

-🐯

lissie: i might have a sense of who you are based on that first paragraph *eyes* but i'm willing to keep your secret much longer!

it's jakarta by the way. i think most of my followers know that i'm asian and will probably know if they read my carrd, that i'm south-east asian. tapi pasti lebih jeli lagi kalau ada yang notice menari dengan bayangan di masterlist gue karena i expose my nationality there hehe

social anxiety always comes and goes in my opinion. wherever i go somewhere alone, i usually just straighten my position and be confident. and i usually do me time outside maybe every 3/4 months because i'm more of a homebody lmao having a few friends that you can rely on is definitely great and tbh, i'm kinda jealous that you have a sibling who shares the same interests, especially coming from me who is an only child

yeah... sometimes i hate the "describing my imagination" part because i can't think of the right words to describe what i'm thinking and feeling. i might even just word vomit because of that. maybe that's why i have a longer wc because i tried to make sense of all of the details. there are not that many words to use in the english language and sometimes i just wanna use the german language to describe a more specific thing like Backpfeifengesicht and especially with the amount of the "show, don't tell" mantra but if you use other words to describe speaking other than said and spoke, you're scared that they won't understand

sorry that i ramble lol it might not even make sense...

[likelylarks]

Whats goin on?

i am a fundamentally broken person? idk mate (i said way too many things after this, the short of it is nothing's wrong, i'm just bad at emotional regulation and i'm sorry)

like, anyone says that i am nice (or anything adjacent to that) and i immediately think of when i was seven or eight and in a fit of rage threw away my sister's drawing that she was really proud of (she got a comic book "kit" type of thing and she drew a lil guy with the body in the shape of a bean) and i don't know why i did it, all i know is that i lied about it and never apologized? it was fifteen years ago and i still think about it and wonder if she thinks about it and whether she hated me for it

and every time i want to complain about things or get overwhelmed with things and get super negative (like now lol), all i can think of is one of my friends from college telling me that i "don't deserve to treat [her] like shit all the time" and even though she's said that she was exaggerating, she also said that our relationship changed after that and she stopped feeling like that, but it changed because i stopped being honest with her about how bad i was feeling and so now whenever i can't help it and just word vomit how shitty i'm feeling because if i hold it all inside of me i feel like i'm going to die, i get super worried that i've finally done it, i've said the thing that's going to make my friends think that i'm using them for emotional labor and not giving anything back to them in return and that they would be better off without talking to me

and then, you know, another two decades worth of little moments of me being tremendously selfish; this last christmas, i was told by my family that when i was little, i was super whiny - i had no memory of that but now i wonder if that's still all they see when i'm there; yesterday my mom said that it was a negative environment, living with me and my dad and it made it hard to have a positive outlook on anything, which just means that now even though i hate my job and my classes and how fucking lonely i am, i am not going to talk about any of it out loud ever again

so, like, nothing is going on? just a whole lot of one off things that build up into nothing that matters and basically, i just don't know how to be a normal person

sorry, i know this was Bad and A Lot but i needed it to go somewhere and sometimes the nature of anons is that the person that asks never actually sees the response so maybe it'll be okay

[cherry-pop-soda]

building on the end of my last post: “moral of the story I guess is never let go of the dreams you have as a kid. because chances are, they might be right”

I know I pretty much never talk like this on tumblr but. I really have been thinking about the part above a lot in the last two weeks. All throughout my childhood I loved drawing and poetry and dancing and singing and basically everything of the sort. I still do.

I tried to make myself stop so many times growing up because I thought it was bad and cringy and wouldnt get me anywhere. I always wanted to write poetry but I stopped trying when I was 11 because I thought the words I wrote were cringy. I loved to sing but I stopped when I was twelve because I thought I sounded bad. I used to love drawing but I stopped doing that when I was 13 because I was never good enough to satisfy my own perfectionism.

and now it makes me sad because I was so harsh to myself for no reason. I had a small crisis about a week ago because I kept thinking about the future and how nothing really seemed interesting to me and I had no idea what I wanted do with my life, basically. but the more I think about it the more I realize the answer was right there the entire time. it was sitting in front of my face virtually my whole life. art, especially music related art, is something i’ve enjoyed and been passionate about since I was like 7. and I keep thinking that all those times when I wanted to do art maybe I was right. maybe I was right when I was 7 and I would dance in the kitchen to songs on the radio. maybe I was right when I was 9 and I heard florence and the machines for the first time and decided to try singing. maybe I was right when I was 11 and tried to write bad poetry late at night. maybe I was right when I joined dance classes and picked up singing again at 15, maybe I was right when I decided to get a guitar, maybe I was right when I started writing poetry/lyrics again a month and a half ago, and maybe. maybe I was right when I thought “this might be what I want to pursue”.

and here I am now. even though I tried to stop myself from all those things I picked up nearly all of them again. I wonder why we all have such big dreams as kids and why they always seem to wither away. maybe the reason is because as kids we haven’t learned to be afraid of failure yet. I definitely am afraid of failure, but all I really know is that this time I could be right about what I want to pursue. I hope i’m right.

[youroldsocks]

dead dove don’t eat

[wildandfluorecent]

hi hi omg i’m so sorry i haven’t been that active lately (it’s all because i’ve been watching too much friends and school honestly LMAO) but i just wanted to tell y’all that i officially started sophomore year and i’m taking a theatre class for the first time which is. so exciting??? ALSO we’re doing a ballet combo in my dancercise class to once upon a december and i like actually internally lost my shit lmao anyways that’s all!!!!!!

[slut-4-rafe]

Hi! I had a fix idea. So a switch!reader and she is in a relationship with the marauders(without Peter) and the boys find out. And like Remus is trying to convince Sirius to try it since he is a switch too(James is a sub and Remus is a dom) and like maybe the reader is feeling bad about messing up the dynamics and tells Remus to forget about it but her feeling bad eventually causes Sirius to give in and then ✨smut✨ You can obviously ignore this. Just thought I would share my thought❤️❤️

"Absolutely not!"

Sub! James x Dom! Remus x Switch! Sirius x Switch! Fem! Reader.

Summary: You want to try and be a dom for once, though Sirius isn't willing to look at you as anything but a sub. Remus and James on the other hand, want you to take charge.

Warning: Smut!, degration kink, praise kink, fingering (male receiving), daddy kink, mommy kink, oral (male receiving), slapping, probably more but this is just filthy.

Note: I hope this was okay. I don't feel like this was exactly what you were asking for, but I needed to add some drama lol.

Word count: 2,295

You had been feeling off about sex recently. It wasn't the fact that Remus was a dom. Or that James was a sub. Or that Sirius was both. What it was, was that you were a sub, or so they thought.

Yes, you loved being their 'good girl' and making them feel good, but sometimes you wished you could take the role of being in charge. Being the one to praise them for being good. Though you thought none of your boyfriends noticed your odd behaviors during your time in the bedroom, you were very wrong.

You were sat on one of the scarlet couches in the Gryffindor common room, watching as the orange flames danced in the pit. Your peaceful headspace was soon to be interrupted.

"Everyone out!" a voice yelled, startling you.

As people started to stand to leave the common room, a certain red head, also known as Lily Evans, took a stand. "No Potter. This is your common room. You can't just order people around!"

"Actually, Evans, I can. I'm head boy." the bespectacled boy said. Before Lily could argue anymore, you watched as Remus gave her a small pleading smile. Her gaze flickered to you and soon she softened.

"Alright then." she said before walking out of the portrait hole.

You knew what this was about. You knew why they wanted to talk privately, especially somewhere that wasn't the boys' bedroom.

You'd been avoiding them.

Sex was a common thing in your relationship, not that you were complaining at all. But to avoid the sex and the uncomfortable sub position you were constantly put in, you avoided them all together.

You kept your gaze on the flames before you, barely noticing each of the boys had taken seats on the couch beside you. Though you felt their stares lingering on your curled up frame, you ignored them the best you could.

"Pup." Remus said softly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Us." Sirius corrected.

You heard Remus let out a sight before correcting himself. "Can you tell us, what's going on?"

You didn't speak.

Your heart was beating rapidly and you got the sudden urge to vomit. And when the blush took over your cheeks, you hid your head in your hands.

You were embarrassed.

Embarrassed to explain that you wanted to not only be a sub, but also be a dom. And it wasn't James or Remus you had to worry about, it was Sirius. The raven haired boy liked how things were in the bed, he didn't want a change, and of course you knew that.

"Hey. We asked you a question." Sirius said.

"You not....breaking up with us, are you?" you heard James whisper. Hearing is sad voice broke your heart, and in an instant you revealed your blushed cheeks to the boys and raced to say your next words.

"No!"

James' frown turned into a lopsided grin at your answer. And suddenly you heard a set of chuckles. Turning your gaze to your other two boyfriends, you found both of them smirking.

"What?"

"Your embarrassed." Sirius said.

"Am not!"

"We like seeing you all flustered puppy." Remus smiled.

"Wanna take this to the room?" Sirius' smirk widened, and instantly your shoulders fell.

"No she doesn't." Remus said. "Pup? What happened? Are you feeling okay? Is something bothering you?"

You just gave your head a simple shake from side to side.

"I think I have a guess." you heard the raven haired boy say, and without even looking at him, you knew he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face. "I think our puppy broke a rule."

At those words your head snapped up. "No I didn't!"

"See. From the way your acting I'd say you did." he went on.

"No!"

"Are you back talking?" he smirked as your shoulders dropped yet again. "See. You just broke a rule. Back talking to your daddies."

And here you were, yet again, being put back in the sub position. You ignored the arousal pooling in your panties, as you rolled your eyes with a shake of your head and turned your stony gaze back to the fire. Yes. You were horny. You had been avoiding sex for about two weeks and still, the sub side of you wanted to follow their rules so you stuck to them. One of them just happened to be 'no getting yourself off,' so you didn't.

"I think you need to be punished pup." Sirius said in a sing song voice.

Remus noticed you seemed off. He sent Sirius a stern look, making the boy sink down into the couch. The sandy haired boy stood up and made his way to where he was kneeling in front of you.

"Poppet?" you turned you eyes to meet his brown ones. "What's the matter?"

Your mind swarm with thought and ways to put together your explanation. "I just..." you trailed off, trying to find the perfect words.

"You just what pup?"

"I-" you took a deep breathe and squeezed your eyes shut and allowed the words to come out in a quick, jumbled mess. "I just don't like being a sub all the time! I want to take charge once in a while. I'm a switch! Just like Siri and I-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Remus cut you off. "Say it again. Slower this time."

You huffed and opened your eyes to meet his yet again. "I don't want to be a sub all the time. Sometimes I want to take charge like you and Siri do. I like being a sub sometimes, but not always. I love being your good girl, but sometimes I just want you to be my good boys."

A silence took over the four of you. The blush that was once on your face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Alright-"

"Absolutely not!" Sirius cut Remus' words off. "No way!"

"Daddy-" Sirius cut off James this time.

"No! I don't care what you two say, I'm saying no!"

Your shoulders slumped. You were put into this uncomfortable position. You wished you could take everything back. You wished you'd never said anything in the first place. You were drowning in your own thought. Your brain muffling the sound of the arguing boys next to you.

"We can't just do what we want Sirius!"

"There can't be three doms and one sub! I mean, James is already sensitive enough. Imagine of we have three people going at him!"

"Hey!" James whined.

"Oh shush. You know it's true."

"Stop. Both of you." Remus said sternly. "Sirius, if there can't be three doms, then you be a sub."

"No fucking way!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I'm a dom!"

"Actually," James said. "Your both Siri. Why can't she be both? That way there would be..."

"Technically, three subs and three doms." Remus concluded.

"No. She's a sub. I don't care what she wants. She will obey you and I. We are her daddies. What does she want? To be called mommy?" he laughs. "That sound fucking stupid."

"Sirius! Stop being a brat-"

"It's fine." you interrupted them. "I shouldn't have tried to change it. Just...pretend I didn't say anything."

You got up and made your way up to the boys' dorm, to which you shared, having not been to your dorm since fifth year. You plopped yourself on the fifth bed, also known as the extra bed, in the room. You grumbled into your pillow, completely oblivious to the arguing going on down below.

"Look what you did Sirius!" James exclaimed. The boys head snapped to James a scowl etched on his lips.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes. You. Did." Remus seethed. The lycanthrope stepped towards the black haired boy, making him gulp nervously. Remus planted a slap to the boys' cheek. "What did I say about being a brat? Huh?"

"It makes me a bad boy." he said quietly.

"Yes it does. Why can't you just be a good boy like James?"

"I am a good boy!" Sirius whined, he sub side finally showing.

"No. Your not. You hurt puppies feelings."

Realization dawned on the boy and he immediately ran up to the dorm, followed by James and Remus.

"I'm sorry!" Sirius cried once he barged into the room. "I was a bad boy. Hurt mommy's feelings."

You froze and turned to the boys, finding James' hazel eyes blown wide, Sirius practically crying, and Remus standing against the door, a smirk wide on his face.

"What? I-I thought..."

"I'm so sorry mommy. Wanna be a good boy. Wanna make mommy happy."

"I..."

"I think little Sirius needs to be punished. What do you think James?" Remus asked.

"Yes daddy. I think mommy needs to punish Siri." he answered.

"W-what? I-..."

"What do I do to you or James when your bad?" Remus asked as he takes long strides to sit next to you on the bed. "Sirius, come here." The boy sheepishly makes his way over to the two of you until he's standing directly in front of you. "Talk to him. Tell him he's bad. Tell him why he's bad." Remus whispered in your ear. "Take charge doll."

This is what you were waiting for. To take charge.

"You were being mean Si." you said. "Hurt my-"

"Who are you?" Remus asked. "Have to address who you are."

"Hurt mommy's feelings."

"I know! I'm so sorry mommy!" he cried.

You contemplated what to do next. "Punish him." Remus whispered.

You stood up so you were face to face with the boy in front of you. You teasingly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the item off his shoulders before unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers and boxers. You looked over the boy, watching as his hard on sat up straight, leaking precum. "Lay down."

"Yes mommy." he crawled up into the bed. Laying so he was on his stomach, his hands were intertwined on his back and he got a perfect view of the bed right in front of him. You seated yourself so you were sitting at his side. Before touching him though, you addressed the other two boys.

"Hey Jamesie?"

The boy perked up at the call of his name a lopsided smile taking over his features. "Yes mommy?"

"Want to help daddy out? Want to suck his cock while I punish Siri?"

James nodded his head rapidly before hurriedly making his way over to the bed that just so happened to be right in front of Sirius. "Yes mommy. Want to be a good boy."

"Good job bubba."

Remus was quick to discard himself, and James, of their clothes. "Good boy." he cooed as James started working on his cock.

"Alright. What should I do, huh?" you asked the boy.

"Punish me mommy. Wanna be your good boy." he whimpered. You thought for a moment. Thinking of all the punishments you received. You smirked when you got an idea.

"Ass up." you instructed, watching how he instantly rested himself on his hands and knees. You took one hand down to his cock. Hearing him moan just at the touch made your legs squeeze together. "Don't take your eyes off them. And you better not cum. Got it?"

"Yes mommy."

"Good." you smirked.

Your hand slowly went up and down on his cock, feeling all the veins and how it twitched when she squeezed. She took her pointer finger and placed it in her mouth, wetting it. Once it was slick, she took it down so she was tracing his hole, earning moans from him. You pussy clenched around nothing and the arousal sitting in your underwear grew uncomfortable as you listened to James' gags and Sirius and Remus' moans.

You slowly aloud your finger to push in, going slow, because while this was punishment, you didn't want to injure or hurt him in any way. You listened to him moan loudly and his back arch.

"Are you okay?" you whispered.

"Yes! Mommy!" he moaned.

You sped up your finger slightly and fisted his cock. As you kept your movements the same, you turned to James and Remus. James had his nose buried in Remus' happy trail.

"Fuuuuck. Such a good boy." you heard Remus moan before pulling the boys head off so he could breathe. After a moment, Remus forced James mouth back onto his cock and bobbed his head up and down. You, in the mean time, took in the sight of the boy laying in front of you. Eyes glued to your other two boyfriends. Cock twitching as he did his best not to cum. And your finger pumping in and out of his hole. "M'gonna cum James. And you better swallow." you heard Remus instruct, earning a moan from James. And in seconds, Remus was cumming down the boys throat and the room was full of loud moans.

"Mommy! I can't! M'gonna cum." Sirius screamed.

"You better not. You wanna be my good boy right?"

"Yes!"

"Then don't cum. Just ten more seconds."

And when you felt his cock twitch violently in your hand, you drew your hand back and slowly took your finger out. He collapsed down onto the mattress.

"Am I good now mommy?" he asked.

You crawled off the bed and went so you were kneeling in front of his face. "So good baby. Watched them the whole time, and didn't even cum!"

"Now we have to make mommy cum!" James said excitedly.

"Right Jamesie." Remus smiled.

"Want to fuck mommy Jamesie boy?" you asked, getting up and going over to the boy on the bed.

"Yes mommy! Wanna make mommy cum. Wanna be her good boy." he went on.

"Okay James. Remus, help out Sirius over there. He's a good boy." you said.

Taglist: @blowing-mikey @lilicazure @trouble-in-space @herbatkazmiloscia @zzzfour @speakyourselfloveyourself @vierablack @officepass1320 @riddikulusweasleys @mysticlights-blog @mtle @emmaev @whitecastles @teenwolfbitches2 @lliasky @lookscutebutwillfight @pretty-pop-princess-hs @imsiriuslyval