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isuckatwritingsobenice · 10 months ago

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Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

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shinysobi · 3 months ago

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pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

A/N: uhh..hi? this is the first time i've written rpf, and it makes all the more sense for it to be centred around woozi, my svt bias. this has no plot at all, and i just wrote it for fun and vibes...also unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes, no u did not :)) shout out to my twitter gc for cheering me on as i wrote this hehe u guys are the best

a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Chapter 1

Whoever said that every love story is universal, was not lying, unfortunately. Every good love story is a mix of tropes that unfortunately work well together to form a coherent plot. And the longer you read books, the easier it becomes for you to identify (or avoid) these tropes.

The enemies turn into lovers.

The friends turn into lovers.

The inn only has one available bed.

Your brother’s best friend is somehow smoking hot and doesn’t see you as an annoying little sibling anymore.

Your one-night stand is your new boss, and he is inexplicably obsessed with you.

Your parents have forced you into an arranged marriage, and your partner is a. incredibly hot and b. also obsessed with you. You get the gist, so on, and so forth.

All love stories go for a trope that becomes the central conceit of the story, no matter how unique they try to be. The small-town girl/boy falls for the hotshot city lawyer/businessman/vague marketing executive and shows them the importance of family, and of course, of love, because without it, business is notoriously low. People need romance to feel something other than hatred in their already terrible lives, and books offer escapism. Escapism and on some other level, a sense of belonging. You can identify yourself with the girl who falls in love with her brother’s best friend, or the man who has feelings for his sworn enemy, or the person who has, surprise, fallen in love, with their best friend. Or their best friend’s brother. Take your pick.

And unfortunately, as a critic, reading romance implies wading through the countless reiterations of trope-y goodness on offer at every bookstore, and trying to find something that strikes a chord. It is a given, that one has to kiss some proverbial frogs in the meantime, and of course, any professional mishap has to be accompanied with a gossip session with one’s friends, where any complaints you might have about your work, is unloaded onto the brunch table, for my friends to laugh about.

Because at the end of the day, everyone is a character in their own kind of romance novel. A victim of the tropes, if you will. In my case, I am the perpetual single childhood best friend, who puts up with every single antic of the main character. In of course, an enemies-to-lovers romance. Apparently unrequited love sells too, if its written well. If not, then it just becomes one of many repetitive marketing gimmicks that frankly, don’t sit well with anyone, let alone someone like me, who critiques books for a living.

“It’s your attitude that’s a problem.” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you’ve been writing for the newsdesk for years and I have never seen you actually be satisfied with a book. There’s always something that could have been better. Maybe this is why you are so—”

“I am so?” I say, eyes narrowed, “finish that sentence, Jihoon.”

“You want me to?”

“Do you really have to fight every time we meet?”

Both Jihoon and I turn our head to the third person at the table, Joshua. Dressed impeccably in a freshly ironed pair of shirt and trousers, he looks far better than either me or Jihoon, because both of us look as though we have been through botched murder attempts. I am in a hoodie and sweatpants, and Jihoon is somehow worse than me, wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. His abandoned khaki bomber jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, but he actually looks worse when wearing the jacket. Joshua looks as though he has been seated at our table by mistake. I’m slightly annoyed by this, but it seems as though Jihoon is more annoyed than me, “what do you mean we fight every time we meet?”

Joshua makes a vague hand gesture, “really? Look at us. You both are dressed as though you’ve been through a typhoon. I feel horribly overdressed.”

“I had a long night.” I reply, “worked overtime at the desk for the Sunday paper.”

“I came here straight from the studio.” Jihoon says, “I didn’t even go home to shower.”

“See, this, this is what I am talking about.” Joshua groans, “both of you dress like homeless people, and then when you come to brunch, you fight all the time. Do you guys never get tired of fighting?”

“Never.” Both Jihoon and I say in unison.

Joshua sighs, before picking up his knife and fork, “I give up. I can never get you two to agree on anything apart from the fact that you guys, apparently, don’t fight.”

“She needs to quit complaining about her job.” Jihoon points his fork at me, “she’s got the cushiest job imaginable, and she manages to complain about it all the time. Every week, she’s here complaining about something at her job.”

“As if you don’t complain about your job all the time too,” I reply, not one to back down from a fight, “you complain about the people at your job all the time as well. And it’s not as though your job is shitty; you literally work at the biggest music corporation in the country—”

“Guys!” Joshua half-yells, and I stop. Everyone is looking at the three of us, and unlike the two of us, he looks embarrassed. “Guys, if you have to fight every time we meet, maybe I suggest we stop this weekly brunch. Jesus—”

“Oh, he swore,” Jihoon whispers, and I giggle, “we finally made him take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“—it’s like you’re kids all over again. This isn’t freshman year of university, for heaven’s sake,” he takes an elegant sip of his coffee, “and for your information, Jesus isn’t the Lord. I’m not letting you guys get the satisfaction of hearing me fucking swear.”

“Does he hear himself?” Jihoon mutters. “I don’t think he does.” I whisper in response.

“Yes, I’m aware I said ‘fuck’, thank you very much.” Joshua sits back in his chair, “I’m proposing to Eunseo tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jihoon yells, bolting upright from his chair, and everyone in the restaurant looks at us, “you’re proposing to her tonight?”

Joshua grabs his hand to drag him back onto his chair, “yes, tonight. Are you stupid? Everyone is looking at us now.” He looks at me, “what do you think about it?”

Oh. Oh.

Remember when I said that my role in a romance novel is that of the eternally-spurned childhood friend? The one who has loved the main character from a distance, never really daring to express their feelings? Well, I’ve not known Joshua since my childhood, we met at high school, and it hasn’t been that long since I discovered that I might have a tiny, the most miniscule of crushes on him. But I’m that trope. The childhood friend who gets spurned, and the main character turns away to the actual love of their life, leaving only a broken heart behind. Too little, too late.

Well, who wouldn’t?

He’s tall, good-looking, gentlemanly, with just the right amount of unhinged, has a good, stable, get-off-at-the-right-time government job, and above all, he’s unflinchingly kind to everyone. Yes, including me and Jihoon, even though we make his life a living hell on most days. Realistically, it was only a moment of time before either Jihoon or I had any feelings for him. And I was betting on Jihoon too. Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice is soft, insisting, and all I can see when I break out of my reverie is the swoop of his collarbones as they disappear under the shirt, and suddenly I feel very dirty. Not just dirty, but also simply awful. Why am I out here thinking about his collarbones when he’s thinking about how to propose to his girlfriend? His very nice, very beautiful girlfriend?

“I’m fine,” I nod my head, “have you picked out a ring for her?”

“Not yet, but I have a kind of ring in mind already.” He says, turning to Jihoon and starting to talk about the different cuts of diamonds that are present at Tiffany’s, and how they suit different kinds of people. Eunseo, I learn, is partial to a pear cut. Jihoon, the idiot, who can’t shut up when it comes to arguments with me, is unnaturally quiet, only offering comments here and there. It’s very uncharacteristic.

And then he gets that look on his face which is a signal for both me and Jihoon that we are about to hear an hour’s worth of praises of Eunseo, and I step in. Making a vague sign towards my completed plate of fish and chips (not that great, the fish was soggy) I say, “before he begins singing praises of his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé, can we get the check?”

“You keep saying it as though you don’t know how much I love her.” Joshua sounds annoyed but unfortunately, I can see through his mask of fake annoyance, “I already paid.”

“Thank goodness, I forgot my wallet.” Jihoon smiles, “for a moment, I thought I would have to use my online wallet.”

“Aren’t you ashamed?” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. Apparently, music producers these days have to be certified gym rats, or they won’t let them into the building, “you’ve mooched off of Joshua and me for the past twelve years, maybe it’s time to start paying.”

“Maybe I do pay, but I just don’t like you.” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his tone, “so I don’t want to pay for your meal.”

“You little—” I’m about to commit a murder in broad daylight, but Joshua, the sweet angel that he is, stops both of us, waving his card in between like a bullfighting matador.

“You guys just don’t stop, do you?” He grins, evidently thinking about how he’s going to propose to his loving girlfriend this evening. Nauseating. It makes me want to throw up. Because Joshua is not going to wake up one morning and decide that he wants to throw away his living relationship of five years to—to pursue his unfortunate best friend, who has nursed an unfortunate attraction towards him for the past year. That is never going to happen. So, let’s scratch that. That should not happen.

Because apart from being unfairly gorgeous and rich and beautiful and did I mention gorgeous? Eunseo is also unflinchingly nice, the kind of nice that leaves other people wondering if the person in front of them is real or not, or if they have some kind of hidden intentions that border on murderous or at the very least, fraudulent. She’s the one who took me under her wing when I was a freshman and had no friends except the two weird guys in my required sociology class, and thanks to her, at the end of four years of university, I had friends in the journalism club, people I come into contact on occasion such as weddings and the odd reunion.

Her niceness is also the reason why Joshua fell for her at first sight.

“I’m out.” Jihoon picks up the abomination of a bomber jacket from his chair, “and before you ask, no, hyung, I’m not helping you with picking out a ring for your girlfriend. You can do that yourself. Or ask her for help.”

And before Joshua can look at me and before I make a fool out of myself (yet again), I turn away, rejecting his proposal for looking at pear-cut diamond rings on a Sunday morning, “I’m ideologically against the institution of marriage. Do it yourself.”

Joshua sighs, because of course he has anticipated this. The fucker. “cannot believe you’re still on your Dworkin streak. Fine,” he says, getting up from his chair and walking out of the café, “I’ll get Eunseo’s ring myself. And when she asks, I’ll tell her that none of you helped me.”

“Ooh, threatening your girlfriend on us, I’m shaking in my boots,” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice, digging through his pockets to get his car keys, “when are you planning to get the ring?”

“Later, in the afternoon,” Joshua is opening the door to his car, and looking at me, “do you want me to give you a ride? Your house is on the way.”

“She only takes buses and the subway,” Jihoon grins, “don’t you remember the time in university when she kept saying about how much she likes welfare policies and transportation benefits?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I reply, elbowing him, harder this time, and Jihoon flinches, “I’ll just go to the office. Jihoon will give me a ride.”

“When did I say that I’ll give you a ride?” Jihoon looks like he wants to begin an argument with me in front of the café, but he acquiesces, “ugh, fine. I’ll give you a ride. Your office is on the way.”

—

“I’m still not convinced that you simply wanted to ‘spend time with me’.” Jihoon grumbles an hour later, seated at his studio and fiddling with his computer. “You’ve been lying there and scrolling twitter for hours now.”

“Your couch is much better than my office chair,” I hum a non-committal reply, before making myself further comfortable into the soft plush material of his couch, “and I’m not scrolling on twitter, I’m trying to find another flat to move into.”

“Lease up?” Jihoon asks, “wasn’t your agreement still valid for at least another few months?”

“I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve,” I reply, “if I start looking from now, maybe I’ll get a better flat by the time the lease is up. My current flat is—”

“A shithole.” Jihoon finishes my sentence for me, “seriously, I don’t know how you manage to live there. And you’ve been holding onto that flat for the past seven years. everyone moved out of their university flats, but you managed to hold onto yours for so long.”

“That’s because it’s a good deal,” I mutter, “ugh, I can’t manage to find a single good deal on any of the flats.”

“Because you’re never satisfied with any deal,” Jihoon replies, “your ideal deal is if everything was free.”

“And I still maintain that housing should not be monetised.”

“Why thank you for that insight, comrade.” Jihoon puts a finger to his mouth, “shut up for a while, I’m trying to concentrate on this song.

“Who’s it for?” I sit up, intrigued, “a new artist?”

“The company’s new girl group.” Jihoon says, “I was asked to produce the title track for their debut. I only have four months on hand, and I still haven’t finished the track. The higher-ups are going to have my head for this.”

“No, they won’t,” I reply, “they like you too much. Speaking of—”

“—if you want me to give you an interview, I won’t, I’ve already told you five times,” Jihoon cuts me off, wheeling his chair away from me, “jeez, you’re tenacious.”

“Oh, but come on, it’ll be fun,” with an extra emphasis on come on, I think I’ve got Jihoon’s attention, “people keep speculating on the kind of person you are. I mean, people know Woozi, but do they know what kind of person he is, underneath all that secrecy? You’ve never given an interview, and you keep avoiding any kind of public appearance. One might think you hate the spotlight.”

“Even if I were to give an interview, I wouldn’t be giving it to you. Who knows how you’re going to spin my words.”

“I’m hurt, Lee Jihoon. This has hurt me.”

Jihoon turns around and blows me a raspberry. I roll my eyes. Is he twenty-eight, or just eight? “whatever you say won’t affect the way I think. I still won’t give you an interview.”

“Just so you know, I’m known to be an excellent interviewer.” I say, walking over to his chair, “come on, Jihoon-ah, give me an interview. Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Pwease?”

He turns around at that, fixing me with a stare, “don’t you ever fucking do aegyo in front of me. I’m going to kill you if you do that again.”

“See, if you gave me an interview like I’m asking you to, then I would not have a reason to subject you to aegyo, but as things stand, you really give me nothing else to work with.”

“Ask Joshua for an interview then, if you’re so desperate for one,” the words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have given me enough reason to walk out of the room, but Jihoon made them sound softer, almost romantic. It was funny, how he managed to change the intonations of every word, changing them to his whims. I suppose that’s what I do with words, and that’s what he does with sounds.

“Joshua is not the elusive Woozi,” I flop back onto the sofa as I counter, trying actively to not think about Joshua picking out a ring at Tiffany’s for Eunseo right at that moment, “he’s an adjunct professor. Not the most interview-friendly of all occupations.”

Jihoon looks at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ask me a very uncomfortable and difficult question, but at that moment, both our phones buzz simultaneously. I check the phone, and it’s a single message in the shared chatroom. Joshua has sent a message, a single picture of a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring (don’t ask me how I know the cut of the diamond) with an attached message;

joshuji: picked up her ring! <3

“Damn, an exclamation point, and an emoji,” Jihoon says, typing out a reply in the chatroom, “our joshuji is entirely too far gone, isn’t he?”

I don’t say anything. Its far easier to pretend that you’re typing out a reply and can’t hear anything, especially when it comes to Jihoon. He’ll take anything in stride.

hoon: wow Eunseo has you whipped

big dick (canon): hey I think it’s cute

Jihoon sets his phone down with an audible clack, and fuck, I’ve messed up. Joshua is oblivious and blissfully happy in his own little life, but Jihoon? The Jihoon that I’ve known ever since our seats were beside each other in the sociology class that made me develop an irrational fear of surveyors? He’s single-minded whenever it comes to pursuing anything. One doesn’t become the most sought-after music producer in the industry with just talent, they need to be dogged in their pursuit of success. And unfortunately, when Lee Jihoon turns his mind to something, he accomplishes it, whether it’s producing a Billboard Hot 100 hit, or, judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, getting words out of my mouth.

“Okay, spill, I’ve seen this go on for long enough,” he says, getting up from the chair and walking over to the sofa, where I am currently hiding behind a throw pillow, “you’ve been weird for months now, and we need to talk about it.”

“We, don’t need to do anything,” I reply, “I’m perfectly fine. If something happened, I would tell you. Or Joshua. Or both of you, at the same time.”

“Like you inform us after every breakup of yours?” Jihoon laughs, “you mean to say you’re going to hold another one of your ‘meetings’ to tell me and Joshua about how some poor bastard made the mistake of trying to date you?”

“I’m actually nice when I date, and I can hold down a relationship for more than two weeks, Mr I-don’t-like-commitment. Tell me, how did your last date go? Did she walk out of the date itself, or did you ghost her?”

Jihoon blinks at me, and then, a slow, catlike smile passes over his features. Fuck.

“You’re being combative today,” he grins, and fuck, its infuriating how predictable I am, and how absolutely incapable I am of not taking his bait, “so, there is something that you’re hiding.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the damn bait,” he replies, “do you want to tell me yourself, or do you want me to guess your little secret?”

“I’m not telling you anything, and its nothing you can suss out either.”

“I can just beat it out of you,” he smiles, flexing his arms, and I belatedly remember that Jihoon, to my disadvantage, had decided at the early age of twenty-one, that he was going to make up for his height by being The Broadest Man on Earth, and now carried a protein shake in his bag everywhere he went, that somehow tasted more disgusting than it looked. He could easily beat me to a pulp. And he would do it too, the little shit.

“Jihoon, remember the time I carried you home when you were drunk?” I don’t know how to do the specific variant of the thing they call ‘puppy eyes’, but I try my absolute best to emulate the little I know, “and you threw up all over my clothes? Remember? It was at Mingyu’s birthday party, and you got drunk on an empty stomach—”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he throws a pillow at me, “fuck, that’s creepy. Also, I got drunk and threw up on your clothes in my second year of university, damn, how long are you going to milk it for?”

“As long as I can,” I reply, “please, Jihoon, just this once.”

“Damn, fine, weirdo,” he stands up, going back to his chair, his back now towards me, “isn’t as though you like Joshua or something.”

I freeze, hoping that the intake of breath at that last sentence hasn’t been heard by Jihoon. I know I’m an atheist, I pray fervently, to whichever god that’s listening, God, Allah, Buddha, Jesus, if anyone’s listening, please, please, please, let Jihoon not notice—

“You like Joshua?”

Fuck.

“No.” I lie brightly, “I just—stubbed my toe on the table.”

Jihoon looks at me in a way that screams bitch, I know you’re a liar so don’t even try. “You know you’re a horrible liar, right?”

“I am?”

He nods, “its one of the many endearing things about you. But unfortunately, you’ve given yourself away now. Really, Joshua? The Joshua Hong we know?”

“Really, it isn’t like that,” I’m sweating, and praying Jihoon doesn’t notice that I’m sweating, “its nothing, and besides, I don’t even like him in that kind of way—”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

I choke on a breath and begin coughing. “What?” I manage to say, after I recover enough to breathe properly, “I don’t want to fuck anyone!”

“Great, because if you wanted to fuck him, it would have become massively awkward.” Jihoon shrugs, “since it’s one of those passing feelings, you can take care of it; it happens all the time. I once had a crush on you too. It’s bound to happen.”

“You had a crush on me?” I screech, “what the fuck, Lee Jihoon, you’re supposed to wait before dropping this kind of information on me!”

“Dude, its long gone,” Jihoon places a hand on my shoulder, a touch that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only suffices to make me angrier, “it was during my military service. I remember that you came with my parents to see me off, and it was—nice. So, I had a crush on you. I got over it when I got out of the military, though. Turns out seeing your best friend live in a hovel really does wonders for your lingering feelings.”

“For eighteen months?” I hold my head in my hands, “you had a crush on me for eighteen months? What the fuck kind of information is that? And you got out of the military three years ago!”

“M-hmm, see, that’s what I mean when I say these feelings will go away.” Jihoon looks sage, as if he’s imparting the secret to life and how to be a good Buddhist, and not bombarding my mind with information I would rather not know, “wait, have you masturbated to Joshua?”

“What the fuck?” I stand up, pacing the room at a speed that would closely rival that of an Olympian, “why would I masturbate to Joshua Hong?”

Jihoon shrugs, “people masturbate. You are a person. Hence the question.”

“Of course, I haven’t masturbated to—wait did you masturbate while thinking of me?” I’m yelling now, yelling and pacing the room like a woman possessed, because of course, Jihoon has made me lose my mind, “Lee Jihoon, did you jerk off to my pictures?”

He shrugs. “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill myself,” I say, grabbing his shoulders, “you know what, Jihoon, lets do that. Let’s both die.”

“Why would I consent to a murder-suicide with you?” he sounds terribly composed, which again, does not bode well for the numerous murderous thoughts I have currently running through my head, “its just a little masturbation. I was twenty-three, I was bored to tears at the military camp, and I had a crush on you, so, I did what I did.”

“Which was apparently, masturbation.” I flop facedown on the couch, “I want to castrate you, you know that, right?”

“Figures. You’ve always been weird about sex.” Jihoon makes a face, “So, you didn’t tell me. do you want to fuck Joshua or not? Because if you do, then it just means that you want sex. If you don’t, then I can’t help you.”

“How can you help me in any way if I say I want to have sex with Joshua?” I ask, “even if I do, which I don’t, just by the way—”

“You want to jump his bones. Right.”

“—how can you even help me, short of getting me a male prostitute.” I pause, horror spreading through my features, “oh fuck. Jihoon, are you going to hire a gigolo?”

To his credit, Jihoon looks appropriately disgusted, “why would I hire a prostitute? No, I would set you up with one of my friends.”

“Who?”

He thinks for a while, then says, “Soonyoung.”

“No offence, but I’m about 90% convinced that Soonyoung is a furry.”

“Jeonghan-hyung, then.”

“He’s too similar to Joshua,” I groan, “why am I going along with this idea? This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Then do you want to help yourself?”

“Masturbate to thoughts of Joshua? Yeah, like that’s gonna work.” I hold my head in my hands, “fuck, I have to sleep with Soonyoung, don’t I? I’m half-convinced he will do a tiger impression in bed.”

“I’m fairly convinced he mimics a roar when he orgasms.” Jihoon mutters.

“Oh, fuck, now I have to talk about orgasms with you,” I say, face buried in one of the pillows, “I have to sleep with one of your weird friends and then everyone will know about my crush on Joshua and I’ll be shunned from our three-person group forever and ever—”

“Calm down, no one is going to spill your secrets,” Jihoon says, “and I have other friends too, you know. They don’t talk as much as those idiots, but they are good people.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”

Jihoon stares at me.

“Okay fine, maybe a little bit.” I concede, “but still, not enough to warrant a setting-up. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.”

“Then go fuck someone!”

“It isn’t that easy!” I snap, and Jihoon looks surprised, because its so unlike me to be incandescent over something as stupid as this, but I can’t help the shiver of anger running over me, “it isn’t so fucking easy. If it were, I would have gone and slept with a stranger from a bar. Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but I would have done it. But I’m telling you now, its difficult for me to even know if I’m attracted to Joshua, and if my attraction means I want to jump him or whatever.”

“Then what does it mean?” Jihoon, it seems, is also incapable of not reacting to my moods and temper, he gets angry easily sometimes, “What does it mean when you tell me you’re attracted to someone? We’re twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck else do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” I half-yell, half-sob, “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want to sleep with anyone, least of all Joshua. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do, and all I want is a little acceptance, not you rattling of a list of people I should sleep with in order to get over my feelings for Joshua—”

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“—and you can’t even give me that, Jihoon,” I finish lamely, looking at his concerned expression, “yeah fine, I’m leaving.”

The door is loud when I close it behind me. to his credit, Jihoon doesn’t pursue me, because even if he’s abnormally idiotic in matters like these, he’s got some sense.

—

I deeply regret befriending either of them, because both Joshua and Jihoon have apparently no sense of boundaries between people. Joshua keeps assaulting my inbox with messages along the lines of oh look how much I love my girlfriend and how much I can’t wait to see you guys and celebrate my engagement because I’ve got my life sorted out unlike YOU fuckers, and Jihoon has rewarded me with radio silence ever since I blew up in his face about his idiotic idea regarding me having sex with one of his friends.

And, as a testament to my misfortunes in life, Joshua has decided that his proposal to Eunseo must be followed up with a party thrown in her honour, or at least a dinner as per his last text message; which of course, he has to send to the shared chatroom with a variety of threatening and non-threatening messages.

joshuji: just saying if you guys aren’t here for the dinner, I’m never talking to you

hoon: aren’t proposals supposed to be an intimate thing? For couples??? Why are you asking us to be there????

joshuji: Eunseo wanted you guys to celebrate, too

joshuji: also, I’m proposing to her in the afternoon. I’m asking you guys to come over for dinner

hoon: maybe we should ask Eunseo about her feelings?

hoon: idk if she would want two others celebrating her engagement. Maybe we should stage an intervention and try to convince her to leave you. Its not too late already

big dick (canon): idk if I can make it guys

joshuji: I told u I wouldn’t be forgiving you if you don’t attend

hoon: you also tell us that every other week, I think we’ll be fine

joshuji: please?

hoon: don’t you fucking dare

big dick (canon): send us the location. Also, you’re paying

hoon: that’s the least he can do, after inflicting all this on us, and on her

joshuji: don’t worry, dinner is on me. [location attached] be there.

Fuck. Fuck my life, and fuck the two other people also in my life, and also, fuck Eunseo for good measure, because if it hadn’t been for her coming over to the mixer in third year, Joshua would never have fallen head over heels with her at first sight, and he wouldn’t have asked her out, and then I wouldn’t have had to deal with my conflicting feelings in the middle of a random Sunday. In the middle of me contemplating whether to clean my flat or not, too. If you look at it, its all her fault. Her fault for being so flawless and lovely and gorgeous that even I cannot bring myself to be jealous. The woman volunteers her free time at an animal shelter, for god’s sake. She’s the kind of person you write rambling horrible love sonnets about, and inflict them on your best friends after getting drunk and vomiting on a sidewalk at three in the morning. I should know, because that was Joshua when he was twenty-five.

Everything seems to go to shit at the same time, so of course, my landlord has to make an appearance when I’m in the middle of a neurotic episode over whether or not to do my laundry and contemplating hurling myself out of the window. His knocks are rhythmic, three seconds apart, which gives me enough time to prepare with a butcher’s knife in my hand. To ensure my safety, of course, in all my good conscience, I could never murder someone.

“Ah, yes, if it isn’t my favourite tenant,” he smiles, wide enough for me to see the gold tooth he had put in four years ago, “don’t worry, I’m only here for a routine check.”

“I bet you say that to all your tenants, Mr Kim.” I mutter, not moving from the doorway. If this man can sell me a glorified hovel posturing as a flat, I can disrespect him as much as I want. “I’ll get back to you on the renewal on my lease as soon as possible.”

The nosy bastard (man) that he is, Mr Kim cranes his neck around me to take a look inside my flat, “don’t worry, you’ve been one of my longest-running tenants for a while, you can take your time.” Then he looks at me, and the gold tooth is again on display. Ugh, I fucking hate it, “Is there a man inside? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, Mr Kim, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply, suppressing my urge to bury the knife held in my hand in his chest, “I was cooking, if you want to know that badly.”

“No boyfriend?” he tuts at me as though my dating life (or its lack thereof) is a personal slight against him, “but there are men coming over to your house all the time?”

“Those are my friends, Mr Kim,” I grit out, fake smile getting more brittle by the second, “men and women can be friends, you know.”

“Ah yes, I know, I know,” he nods, before clapping his hands like he’s received some sort of epiphany, “I forgot to tell you, but if you do decide to renew,” here he takes a deep breath, as if he’s bestowing upon me some great honour, “the rent will be raised. By twenty.”

“Twenty percent?” I screech, and the student in the flat next to me has probably heard it, “is that even legal?”

From the smile on his face, I don’t have to hear anything else. It probably is.

Mr Kim goes away from my line of sight (my kitchen knife’s line of attack) with another, equally insufferable, smile, and I close the door with a loud enough bang that the hinges rattle. I lied to Jihoon, because I only have two months left on my contract, and I still have had no luck in finding a new flat to move into. Everywhere I go, its either overpriced, or the facilities are too shitty, or the vibes are off.

Back in the room, I try to busy myself with laundry, when my phone rings. Its Jihoon, who’s apparently decided that making me angry is a full-time job for him. He’s making use of the private chat, which is rare for him, and somehow, equally annoying for me.

hoon: sorry about what happened in the studio this morning

hoon: offer still stands though

big dick (canon): that’s not how you apologise to someone

hoon: what? I’m trying to help my bestie get some

hoon: is that such a scandalous thing to ask for

big dick (canon): yes. Yes, it is

big dick (canon): also, fyi, I’m not sleeping with any of your friends. They’re all too weird for me

hoon: Mingyu? I remember you saying once that you’d motorboat him

big dick (canon): platonically

hoon: not sure how you’d motorboat someone platonically

big dick (canon): he’s too outgoing for me. cannot imagine I’d ever have a moment to myself if I ever dated him

hoon: Wonwoo? Everyone liked him back in university

big dick (canon): unfortunately, all he seems to talk about is gaming. I don’t mind gaming once or twice, but talking about it all the time? That bores me

hoon: Chan? He’s younger than you, but you could be a cougar, for all I know

big dick (canon): I’ve seen Jeonghan beg on his knees for him to go home after a drinking session

hoon: Minghao?

big dick (canon): He once teased me for my curtain bangs for a week straight

hoon: fine then, Cheol?

big dick (canon): Too competitive

hoon: Seungkwan?

big dick (canon): Too athletic. Also, isn’t he joining the culture desk soon?

hoon: Seokmin?

big dick (canon): Too outgoing

hoon: Vernon?

big dick (canon): Too quiet

hoon: Jun?

big dick (canon): Too weird

hoon: Jesus, fuck, woman, what kind of person do you want to date?

big dick (canon): ykw, just set me up with Mingyu. If nothing I can still get to say I motorboated some great pecs

big dick (canon): seriously, his pecs are bigger than my boobs

big dick (canon): how does he do it

big dick (canon): can I hold them

big dick (canon): respectfully

big dick (canon): in a non-sexual way

big dick (canon): please

hoon: I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that

big dick (canon): please ask him

big dick (canon): how does one get that kind of pectoral muscles

big dick (canon): wow

hoon: my pecs are bigger than his

big dick (canon): is this some new sort of dick-measuring contest idk yet

big dick (canon): if it is

big dick (canon): you’re losing

big dick (canon): I need to take a bite from his tits

big dick (canon): One

big dick (canon): Teensy tiny

big dick (canon): Munch

hoon: I’m so close to blocking u

big dick (canon): They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth

hoon: maybe you need to consider that Jesus had very bad vibes

hoon: so, you want to go on a date with Mingyu?

hoon: I feel like I should tell you that he eats the equivalent of three people

hoon: at the same time

big dick (canon): As long as he lets me motorboat him

big dick (canon): I don’t care

big dick (canon): He can eat as much as he wants

hoon: why must you be so horny over Mingyu of all people

hoon: he’s not even that attractive

hoon: and I’ve got bigger pecs than him

big dick (canon): congratulations on having bigger pecs, but I’m still gonna motorboat Mingyu

big dick (canon): going to gently hold his tits

hoon: between you going feral and Joshua badgering me about his engagement party dinner

hoon: I can’t help but feel as though both of u are out to make me go insane

big dick (canon): are you gonna go to that?

hoon: he’s already made plans at the barbecue place where we go to

hoon: even got a whole discount coupon and everything

hoon: normally I’d be upset that he’s being cheap, but after researching the price of that ring, I’m prepared to forgive him this once

hoon: next time I’m forcing him to take us out to a good dinner place

big dick (canon): are you planning to spend all his salary

big dick (canon): I’m in

big dick (canon): Ugh I haven’t eaten anything since the morning

big dick (canon): Can you ask Mingyu to bring me food

hoon: you’re incorrigible

hoon: have you been able to maintain eye contact with him?

big dick (canon): UNFAIR

big dick (canon): You know I can only do that with you

big dick (canon): Since you’re exactly my height

big dick (canon): Hehe

hoon: I’m blocking u and this number right NEOW

hoon: cannot believe I’m conversing WILLINGLY with someone who slanders my height

big dick (canon): see u at the barbecue place tonight

big dick (canon): have fun on the song

hoon: I’m trying to finish it

hoon: cannot believe I’ve gone into a slump

big dick (canon): you know how this can be cured?

big dick (canon): An INTERVIEW

big dick (canon): With yours truly

big dick (canon): Please

hoon: ask someone else

hoon: Soonyoung

big dick (canon): he’s an idol, yes but

big dick (canon): I’m terrified he’s going to do at least three tiger impressions

hoon: wrong, he’s going to do at least five

hoon: ugh gotta go

hoon: see u at the dinner

I stare at the dark phone screen for about five minutes after I’ve finished texting Jihoon. His interest in setting me up with one of his friends aside, he’s not wrong. I’m sexually frustrated, which means I’m just projecting my desires onto the closest available person, which in this case, happens to be Joshua.

Okay, fair enough, then why not anyone else? The people at my workplace aren’t that bad, and some of them are fairly good-looking, so why not them?

As soon as that thought comes into my mind, I shake it away violently. To willingly date someone in the workplace is inviting a whole host of problems, HR notwithstanding. And to imagine the fallout when I eventually break up with them, while still having to work with them in the same office—no, I’d rather take a transfer. The only option that remains are Jihoon’s friends, and while they’re all nice, they can also be terrifying, and therefore, not the best options for dating. Or sleeping around, which is what Jihoon wants me to do.

“Ugh, why do I have to have these feelings,” I moan into my pillow. It would have been great if I were born as an amoeba. Or as a plant. No need for my feelings to take centre stage, no need to maintain friendships with annoying people like Jihoon or Joshua. Just peaceful photosynthesis, and being eaten by a random goat on a random Tuesday. I wouldn’t even need to go to university. Nothing required. Just basking in the sun.

And unfortunately, because my mind is a little traitor, it focuses on the one thing that I don’t want to focus on: Jihoon’s offhand comment about his pecs being bigger than Mingyu’s; which, if I know Jihoon as well as I do, is a blatant lie, but even the thought of it is enough to send me into a downward spiral. What the hell does he mean, he has bigger pecs than Mingyu? Its not as if I want to see them, and let this be known, and made into public record, that I’ve never once wanted to see Jihoon’s pecs.

But.

Of course, its not as if I haven’t thought about it. not as far as Jihoon, who apparently masturbated to the thought of me, but of course I have idly wondered, what it would be like. When he came back from the military, its all I could think about for a couple days, before I had to physically slap myself back into reality. Unfortunately for me, his one petty comment about the size of his pectoral muscles, threatens to throw me back into the pits of desperation yet again.

Ugh. I slam my face into the pile of fresh laundry, hoping for it to soothe my nerves. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

Its at that moment that the chatroom pings again, this time with a message from Joshua.

joshuji: SHE SAID YES!!!!

hoon: congratulations!

big dick (canon): Congratulations!!!

��

The barbecue place is good enough for us, but for a dinner celebrating Joshua’s engagement to Eunseo, it seems a little too shabby. Although given the amount of money he’s spent on an engagement ring (I saw the prices, and I had to stifle a gasp) it can be forgiven. Just this once, as Jihoon said.

I’ve come here late, on purpose. Between the excited texts from Eunseo, who texted me a picture of her ring, and I had to act appropriately surprised, and Joshua’s infamous enthusiasm for a. showing the world how much he loves his girlfriend and b. to torment his friends, I’m feeling drained. I’m dressed for a night of eating greasy food and drinking cheap alcohol: a hoodie borrowed (stolen) from either Jihoon or Joshua, and jeans. I can’t even lie to myself and give myself a reason to dress up, because even I can’t delude myself into doing that. Jihoon once saw me with day-old vomit on my shirt, and Joshua has seen me dress in my sleepwear for exams week.

The place is filled with smoke, emanating from the meat being cooked on the grills, and it takes me a moment to adjust myself to it all, before I look for the other three. They have all arrived, and according to Jihoon, who’s sent a message out of his own accord on the chatroom in a long time, they’re all eating lots of beef.

“You’re late,” Jihoon grumbles as I approach the table, “I had to sit through half an hour of these two being happy and in love.”

“You’re a liar,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, “you enjoy romance movies.”

“Wow, that’s something I didn’t know about him,” Joshua says, with a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t want to decode, “how come you know everything about Jihoon?”

“Occupational hazard,” I reply, reaching for a piece of meat, “every time you bailed on us to go on a date with Eunseo, Jihoon and I would be forced to hang out together.”

“It was horrible,” Jihoon agrees, “she’d force me to watch all these romance movies.”

“Says the man who cried while watching Love Actually.”

Eunseo giggles at that, almost doubling over herself. I narrow my eyes at Joshua, “have you both been drinking since the afternoon?”

“No, no, I haven’t,” Eunseo wheezes, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she is while laughing, too. She’s wearing an apron to prevent grease falling on her expensive clothes, and she’s still gorgeous. I snort when I laugh, and once Jihoon saw me with mango juice coming out of my nose, “it’s just funny.”

“What is?”

She points at the two of us, “you know, the both of you keep talking about how annoying you find each other, and yet you’re both closer to each other than anyone else. It’s just so funny to me.”

“Joshua,” Jihoon says, very seriously, “I think your fiancée has been taking drugs.”

“At the very least, she’s insane,” I supply helpfully, “no one in their right minds would date Joshua. Not to mention agreeing to marry him.”

Joshua puts an arm around Eunseo, “stop slandering my fiancée.”

Jihoon puts a piece of meat into his mouth, trying to change the topic, “have I mentioned I’m helping her hook up with someone?”

I cough violently, while Eunseo and Joshua wear twin expressions of confusion. “Wait, Jihoon,” Joshua says, “I thought you—”

“I told you not to talk about that!” I wail, a noise that’s fortunately covered by all the meat-grilling around me, “no, I’m not going to hook up with any of your friends. Jihoon has terrible taste in people, not to mention that all your friends aren’t exactly hook-up material.”

“You take that back,” he gasps, “weren’t you talking about how you’d like to motorboat Mingyu?”

“That was platonically!”

“I’m sorry,” Joshua interjects, looking at me as though I’ve sprouted another head, “how can you, and I’m just going off on a limb here, motorboat someone platonically?”

“That’s what I said,” Jihoon grumbles, “she keeps asking me to set them up once.”

“That’s because he’s the hottest out of all your friends.” The soju is bitter as I drink it, “if I have to engage in a night of mindless sex, might as well do it with the hottest guy around.”

“Knew it,” Jihoon wags one of his fingers at me, “knew you only wanted Mingyu for his body. How dare you do that to my friend.”

“You once stole his socks.”

“Once.”

“For a whole semester.”

“Fair enough.”

“Both of you,” Joshua says loud enough for us to stop bickering, “explain it to us properly. What do you mean you’re helping her hook up with one of our friends? And why are you letting him hook you up with one of our friends?”

I shrug, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you heard us. It’s only going to be one time.”

“Do I need to give you the talk?”

Jihoon laughs, “you do realise she’s an adult?”

“I’m not saying she can’t do anything; I’m just saying she needs to be careful!

“If I have to be careful around the rest of the guys, then maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“What do you mean she should be careful around the people who have known her for so long?”

“All of you!” Eunseo claps her hands, and like kindergarten children, we all turn to look at her, sheepish, “Josh,” she turns to the man in question, who looks sufficiently contrite, “let me have a word.”

As they leave, Jihoon pulls a face. “asshole.”

I take another shot of the soju, “he’s just looking out for me.”

“Then he shouldn’t be so overbearing about it.” Jihoon takes a look at me downing another shot, “should you be drinking this fast?”

“Don’t you start.” I say, shaking my head, “I’m going to drink enough to wipe out Joshua’s bank account.”

Jihoon says nothing, just looks at me, and then, after ten seconds, “do you want to do it?”

“Do what?”

“The date. With Mingyu.”

Maybe its just the alcohol getting to my head, or maybe its all this smoke, but his voice seems different. Is he concerned, or is he joking, as per usual? It’s confusing. Should I blame the alcohol? That seems easier, given how it’s getting to my head. “I don’t know.”

“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good listener, and if you want him to shut up, he will. He’s great that way.”

I stare at him. Jihoon has a strange look on his face, one that I can’t really place. Alcohol. Yes. Blame it on the alcohol. I take another shot, but before I can form a reply to him, Eunseo and Joshua are walking back to the table, hand-in-hand, identical smiles on their faces. As soon as it had come, the look in Jihoon’s eyes is gone, replaced by the usual, blasé attitude he has perfected.

“Sorry for being late,” Eunseo breezes as she settles into the table, “Joshua needed to be reminded of adult boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.” Joshua offers by way of an apology, “I overstepped.”

“Damn right you did.” Jihoon mutters.

“Apology accepted,” I smile, picking up a piece of meat, “can you order some more?”

—

Mondays are, unfortunately, the worst. Especially if one spent their Sunday evening drinking enough alcohol to lose half their memories. I slide into my seat at work, yawning as I inspect the things I have to finish working on before the end of the day.

“Morning, sunbae,” a cheery voice says, placing a cup of coffee on my desk, “you look like shit.”

“Not the time, Seungkwan,” I mutter, pressing two fingers to my forehead, “too loud, too loud.”

“Heard you got shitfaced with Jihoon and the others last night,” Seungkwan says louder, “Jihoon texted the chat with the others at two in the morning, saying how he was going to take you home.”

“He did?” thankfully, I have no recollection of this happening, so I just let him fill me in on the details, “all I remember is drinking too much at the barbecue place.”

“Celebrating Joshua’s engagement, right?” Seungkwan’s smile is irritating, and I hate how cheery he is in the morning, “he texted about that, too. The pear-cut diamond was, oof, it was something to see.”

“Why do you know about diamond cuts?”

“I grew up with sisters,” he shrugs, as if growing up with sisters imbued one with all the hidden knowledge of womankind, including, but not limited to, engagement ring diamonds and their specific cuts, “you pick up stuff from listening.”

“Jihoon told you all he took me home?” I ask, “he doesn’t usually say that kind of stuff.”

“You got especially drunk last night, so he made an exception for you.” Seungkwan grins, leaning in, “what do you think about Jihoon?”

“He’s a pain in my ass.” I mutter, switching on my computer, “also, go back to work, Seungkwan. You’re not even supposed to be here until next week!”

“Yoo-min quit, so they asked me to join a week early,” he gives me a grin that again, I try not to decode (what is it with all these men and their mysterious grins?) before settling down into the seat next to me, and promptly jumping up to subject me to a ninety-degree bow, “Boo Seungkwan, at your service!”

“Ugh,” I wince, waving at him, “sit down, for the love of god, no one needs to be that loud in the mornings.”

“You are my senior, as it happens, and I’m very keen on maintaining proper relations.”

“Get me one of those hangover cures.”

“I like the American style.”

—

To no one’s surprise, Seungkwan is a very competent worker. He’s a social butterfly, which means that he quickly endears himself to everyone at work, and by the time lunch rolls around, I have to hear praises of Seungkwan from everyone. It’s terrifying, how competent he is.

Being one of the associate editors, means I have to mostly edit the articles sent in by the reporters on ground, not to mention I get to pick and choose which issue I want to cover. I maintain as much of my professionalism as I can, while having a raging headache.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan approaches me right before lunch, “will you be going out to cover an article?”

“I have an interview with an author after lunch, so not yet,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on a report sent in by one of our field staff, on some celebrity’s rash driving case, “I have some time.”

“Do you want to have lunch with the rest of us?” he asks, gesturing the group of five waiting behind him, “we’re going to have naengmyeon at the place down the block.”

“I have enough sense to not butt into the affairs of my juniors, Seungkwan,” I say, standing up from my chair, “here, have the card. Since its your first day here, the office should treat you.”

Seungkwan takes the offered card with a bow, and smiles brightly, “oh, but the editor said we’re having a company dinner tonight? Won’t you be joining us for that?”

“A group dinner?” I ask, and the group behind him nods their head, all in unison. It makes them look like little bobbleheads, for some reason. “Sure, I’ll join in.”

“Yes!” he seems unusually cheerful about the company dinner, which in my own experience is nothing but a pain that I had to accustom myself with when I joined the paper, “see you tonight, sunbae!”

“This kid,” I groan, picking up my coat. The prospect of lunch makes my stomach turn, and now I have to contend with dinner?

I text Jihoon while walking out of the offices. Joshua is busy with his new fiancée, and Jihoon’s building is far closer to mine that it is to Joshua’s place of work.

big dick (canon): Are u free

big dick (canon): For lunch

Unless Jihoon texts first, he takes an hour to respond at best, but as soon as I send the message, he’s typing a reply.

hoon: lunch?

hoon: if it isn’t lunch I’m killing u

hoon: dude I’ve never had a block this bad I think I’m going to go crazy

hoon: not to mention the hangover from last night is crazy

big dick (canon): it is for lunch, you idiot, why would I text u otherwise

big dick (canon): and I can agree on that, my head is killing me

hoon: is hangover soup cool with u

hoon: I know a good place

hoon: meet u at the front of your building in five

hoon: please tell me all the details about Seungkwan

“He took five minutes to get the editor to warm up to him?” Jihoon cackles, as the lady serves us two steaming bowls of seollongtang, “of course, it’s Seungkwan. He can make anyone warm up to him in minutes.”

“I fear he takes it as a challenge.” I say, spooning the milky broth into my mouth, “ah! Its hot!”

“Why can’t you just wait for a while, before eating your food?” Jihoon pours me a glass of water, “did you die of starvation in your previous life?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Atheist. Tell me what else our little dongsaeng get up to in the meantime.”

“He’s not been given a lot of work, given that it’s his first day,” I take another, more tentative sip of the broth, “but unfortunately, I’ve got to attend another company dinner tomorrow night.”

“Another company dinner? Haven’t you gone through enough pain to consider drinking again, what, barely twenty-four hours later?”

“Twenty-fours is pushing it,” I say, wincing at the sound of my own voice, “ugh, this damn hangover. I can’t even function. Let’s just eat in silence.”

“You want a cider?” Jihoon asks, looking around for the owner to ask for two cans of cider, but the owner is faster than him, setting down two cans of soda in front of us with a smile on her face.

“Your boyfriend is very caring.” She tells me, “its so nice to see someone taking care of their girlfriend so well. The sodas are on the house, okay?”

“Oh, but he’s not—” even before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s gone again, tending to her other customers. Jihoon opens one of the cans for me without saying a word.

“We should stop coming here.” I say, accepting the can from him, “why would anyone think that we’re a couple?”

“They can’t accept that men and women can just be friends, that’s why.”

“Too bad the food is great.”

Jihoon pauses for a moment, then a slow, sly smile spreads all over his face. I know that look. That look does not bode well for me, or for anyone else involved. The first time I saw Jihoon have that look on his face, Seungcheol embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of first-year students, he refused to come out to any events where Jihoon was invited, for almost a month. This look means that he’s got some sort of evil plan in his mind, one that involves another person and their total embarrassment. He takes a look around the restaurant, and sits up straight. The words that come out of his mouth next, however—

“Babe,” Jihoon says, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, “don’t you think this place is great?”

What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what are you doing?” my voice is a whisper, “they’re all looking at us!”

“That’s the point.” He whispers, before smiling, “you should say something too, you know. Make the whole thing more believable.”

“I don’t want to!”

“They gave us free sodas; they deserve a special performance at least.” He points to the owner, who looks like she’s about to break her face from smiling so damn broad, “sorry, my girlfriend is a very shy.”

“Oh,” the lady waves it away, “anyone can see you are in love!”

In the end, when Jihoon is paying for our lunches, she takes a final look at the two of us, and croons, “you two make a lovely couple!”

“What the fuck was that?” I turn on Jihoon as soon as we are safely out of the restaurant and far enough for anyone to eavesdrop, “Why the hell would you tell her that we’re dating?”

“Thought you needed a pick-me-up,” Jihoon grins, “at least I got you to stop worrying about things so much.”

“There are better ways of going about that than telling unsuspecting diner owners that we are dating!”

“It was funny, you have to admit,” he smiles, and I have to begrudgingly agree, “see, told you we’d make a cute couple.”

I would rather die than tell Jihoon that I agree with him on anything, so I keep quiet. Thing is; it was rather funny. Especially with how the owner reacted to us.

“And later on,” Jihoon says, holding on to my arm as we cross the road, “when you come to this place with someone else, you can just tell her that we broke up.”

“You need to stop talking about how I’m going to start dating other people.” I mutter, “just because I’ve got some frustrations I need to work out, doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into the arms of whoever it is who offers first.”

“Careful with that,” he says, standing at the crossroads where he’s supposed to walk towards his building, “you might end up regretting it.”

And with a single wave, he’s gone. I stand for about five minutes, like an idiot, while the busy crowd walks past me, trying to decode his words. Why would I regret my decision to not date someone just because I need to get over myself? Not to mention Jihoon has been behaving strangely since the previous night.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan materialises next to me, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Jesus!” I narrowly escape jumping three feet into the air, “give a girl a warning!”

“I did call out,” he pouts. Its disconcerting how adorable he is. “You were pretty engrossed in looking into the distance to even notice my presence.”

“Are you upset?”

Seungkwan smiles, “if you agree to a badminton match with me over the weekend, I’ll overlook this slight.”

I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, making my way into the building, “see you at the dinner, then.”

—

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geraskierfanficprompts · 4 months ago

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Prompt 109

Geralt is a witcher. Cats tend to distance themselves from witchers. Sometimes Geralt wonders what cats are like. So one day he asks. "Cats are lovely. Beautiful little sweethearts." The old woman who owns the inn says to him. "Cats are annoying varmints, always yowling in the middle of the night when they're in heat, they SCREAM their little heads off, can't catch a wink of sleep with them around!" A man passing by him in the market complains, with the anger of someone who has clearly thought about this a lot. "My cat isn't the biggest fan of being touched, but she's a good girl. Catches the mice." "They're evil little hellions, nothing compared to dogs. Don't even like their owners." "I'd like 'em a whole lot more if my way of living wasn't being a fisherman. They climb in at night and steal my best catches." "They're adorable!" "My cat is the cuddliest sweetest snuggliest little kitty to ever live, I think. Nobody will ever love me as much as he loves me." "My friend has a kitten! She already knows to chase the feathers we wave in front of her! I hope she still plays when she grows up." Opinions are varied in the town, but the majority seem to love them. He wants to know what they're like, not if they are liked. He sits down with a friendlier townie one afternoon and asks in detail what cats are like. What's great about them, what's bad about them, what do they like, what do they hate, what can they do, what have they done? The more she describes cats, however, the more Geralt can't help but be reminded of Jaskier. "They're playful. They love making noise and chasing things."

"Geralt, please, can't I play my lute? It's been fourteen whole minutes of SILENCE! Let me play a song!" "Why do you stay?" "Maybe I just like following you, Geralt. It's nice only having to pay for half of everything, after all."

"They're moody little things. Cats will want to cuddle you one second, and be left alone the next, and if you can't read their mind, they'll give you an annoyed little pouty face, as if you were meant to know better!"

"Geralt, do you mind if I...?" "If you what?" "Sit here?" "...My lap?" "That is where I'm sitting, yes. May I?" "...Mm." "Great thanks!~" "Geralt, you pissing idiot! I can't believe you! Don't touch me! Don't even look at me! How could you do something so so so SO stupid!?" "This is my job, Jaskier." "And apparently sewing up your arm is mine!" "I can take care of it." "Oh, I'm meant to just trust the man who went off and got mauled by a werewolf, then?"

"They enjoy a good sleep. Cats nap more than my old man, if you can believe it. They love comfort and luxury."

"Geralt, can't we stay at an inn? It's been so long." "Can we rest? Just for a bit? Pleaaaase? I want a nap. Don't I deserve it?" "Geralt, not to be ungrateful, but I think sleeping on the dirt would be better than this inn. Don't tell me you're making us sleep here. There's probably snakes nesting in the pillows."

"But at the same time, they love the grittiest bits of the outdoors. Chasing rabbits through tunnels, climbing trees after a songbird- My childhood cat used to dive in the swamp to catch frogs."

"Geralt, taking a shortcut through the bog is the easiest way to get to the competition in time! Now hurry along! Either I cross the bog alone, or you come with me!" "Geralt, I went looking for potion ingredients while you were skinning the deer!" "Geralt, are you going to cut the damn thing's head off or what? Wait, darling, are you alright? Are you hurt? Let me do it-"

"They sometimes bring you dead critters because they want to feed you. It's oddly very endearing."

"Geralt, I bought you some honey buns!" "I found some lovely cakes, do you want one, Geralt? You haven't eaten at all today." "I- I killed it. It was coming straight for you and I panicked. Am I bleeding? I can't quite tell because of the adrenaline, so am I bleeding or not, Gerelt? Can you tell me? Are YOU bleeding? Did I get it in time?" "I got so many tips last time I played, Geralt, you can get a bigger meal."

"They get themselves into trouble a lot, though. Places they shouldn't be, things they shouldn't touch, things they shouldn't eat."

"Geralt, I didn't mean to cause all of this. I'm sorry." "It's nothing, Jaskier. I'm just glad you're unharmed." "...Um... Geralt? Can you let go of my wrists now?" "Don't. Touch. Anything. The plant's spines are poisonous." "Jaskier, spit it out! SPIT IT OUT! I told you to stop fucking eating things in Yennefer's place" "Then why was it colored like a nice candy?"

"When they're scared or angry, they can make a right mess out of you. Don't let their cuteness fool you, they can do some damage."

"What else was I supposed to do, Geralt?" "Not punch him!" "He said you were a monster!" "I am!" "Do you want me to punch YOU?" "Geralt, I lost my dagger. It was in one of the bandits we chased away." "Geralt, will you teach me how to use a sword? Nothing fancy, just how to kill something."

"But above all, they're loyal, and loving. Ever so lovely. They'd die for you, if you treated them nice enough." "Thank you for telling me. I.. Have to go." Geralt stammers out, racing away to the inn he left Jaskier in. "Oh, hello, Geralt. Did you find a contact?" And Geralt yanks him close, and hugs him. He should try kissing him one of these days. Either way, Geralt won't mourn for the cat he can never have, for he has a Jaskier, and it's close enough.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geralt x dandelion #geralt loves his bard!#witcher fanfiction #fanfiction prompts #writing prompts #requited unrequited love #friends to lovers #Jaskier being a little meowmeow (affectionate)#Jaskier being a little meowmeow (derogatory)#Cats canonically hating witchers #rip lmao

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starlightrosa · 8 months ago

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Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)

#helluva boss tickle #lee!fizzarolli #ler!asmodeus #ticklish!fizzarolli #helluva boss fic #tickle fic #rosa writes fics

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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year ago

Text

By Virtue of Being a Frog

**it's not great, but here's my birthday fic for myself. Enjoy!**

Look, Danny wasn’t sure what happened. First he was just Danny, hanging out in Gotham on a school trip, and next thing he knew, he was a frog. Now, he didn’t know much about Gotham, but he figured frogs weren’t… common.

He could probably turn back- enchantments didn’t tend to stick on ghosts, but where was the fun in that? With a ribbit and a hop, Danny was off and away, fleeing with the rest of his be-frogged classmates. Except that his fleeing was with purpose. He wanted to get as far away as possible as fast as possible. He knew the class had been in the Diamond District- near a place called Robinson Park, and that Robinson Park was the last place any of them wanted to go.

So there he went. It wasn’t often he was able to get away from his classmates on school trips, so this was a prime opportunity. Even at the age of 18, he wasn’t really allowed to leave the group. But now, escaping in a city that had it’s own guardian ghost? Sign him the fuck up!

Danny dodged between feet, turning himself intangible a few times in order to not get squished, and soon the musty streets turned into lush grass. Croaking, he hopped further into the park- it was gorgeous, all overgrown and blooming. Sam would love it.

Part of Danny wanted to keep this gem in the heart of the darkest city in America to himself, though.

He heard some rustling in the foliage as he hopped through the jungle-like park, but paid it no mind. There was too much to see and to smell to worry about some wildlife.

Except for the frog thing. He’d forgotten about the frog thing.

An honest-to-Ancients hyena lunged out of the bushes and snatched him up. Danny croaked in surprise, feeling himself become dizzy as the canine beast started to shake him about.

It didn’t occur to him to drop the transformation, not until after a young man caught up to the hyena and made it drop him.

“I am very disappointed in you, Bud. We have had this discussion before- if you continue to attack small wildlife every time Harley lets me visit with you, I will not visit again. Do you understand?”

The hyena yipped and bounded off into the foliage, and the young man knelt down to inspect Danny.

“My apologies, he gets excited. Why not come with me and I will get you patched up appropriately?”

There was something to the cadence of the man’s voice, the soft accent, and the emerald eyes that made Danny freeze up.

He allowed the man to scoop him up, and felt himself be carried away. Something in him said that this man was the safest option for him now or ever. The stress of the last hour finally took it’s toll, and Danny felt unconsciousness wash over him.

~~~

“It’s a frog, Damian.”

“What is your point? I found it injured and it has not woken up. Fix it.”

“I’m not a miracle worker!”

Danny woke to a heated conversation over his head. He was pleasantly moist, surrounded by soft things, and overall, fairly content. The safe man was still here, and still safe, and Danny felt better than he had for the last four years.

Or the last… thirteen? How long had it been since he’d been adopted?

“Timothy, please.”

There was a pause, and Danny cracked open one eye. He was nestled in a small damp towel, and the two voices were coming from above him.

“Hey, it just moved!”

Danny opened his eyes fully to look up at his savior. Getting a much closer look at the man forced a startled noise out of his tiny froggy body.

“It is scared, Timothy, back away.”

“You back away! You’re the one frowning down at him from point-blank range!”

Both men started to move away from Danny’s nest, so Danny croaked another protest.

His big brother’s face was looking down at him, older and alive, and even if it was a doppelganger or a dream, Danny wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

It finally dawned on him that he could transform back, so with a leap (assisted by some flight and minor intangibility), he sprung from the cardboard box and into the air, where he allowed the enchantment to slough off, landing feather-light on his feet.

He turned to find a sword and some sort of projectile weapon aimed at him.

“Oops.”

“Who are you, and how did you come here?”

Danny raised his hands quickly, his eyes darting around to look for possible exits. Sure, he knew he could just vanish, but even a decade after the fact, he couldn’t get rid of the habit.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I was a frog? And now I’m not. Not that I was a frog to start with, I was visiting Gotham with my school and we were all suddenly frogs, and then there was a hyena so now I’m here? Wherever here is?”

The person who was not his brother put away the projectile.

“There was a magic user attack in the Diamond District yesterday- he was pretty passionate about amphibians.”

“The others who were affected returned to their normal state within three hours, Timothy. I do not understand why this one did not.”

Timothy shrugged, opening his mouth to answer, but the man who was not not Danny’s brother continued.

“Or why he looks like someone who ought to be dead.”

It was Danny’s turn to shrug.

“I mean, in all technicality, I am? But also, did you say it’s been a day? My friends must be worried. Can I… go?”

“You are what?”

Timothy was looking at him curiously, and maybe!Dami was glowering. Ah, familiar.

“Dead. Technically. Oh, wait, you gotta promise not to tell. The Anti-ecto Acts would have my hide on a stick.”

Probably!Dami grabbed Timothy by the arm and pulled him away from where Danny was standing, muttering something in a low voice.

Too bad, Danny had enhanced hearing. Thanks, death!

“I suspect this is a League plant. He looks too similar to- He looks familiar, and in only the way one of Talia’s ruses to kill me would.”

Damn, okay, upgrade from probably to definitely. Except… Damian had been the Demon’s Heir, he would never address their mother by her first name.

Danny chose to feign cluelessness when the two turned their attention back to him.

“What are you here for?”

With a shrug, Danny continued his charade.

“I’ve never understood that question. What are any of us here for? That’s like asking what a prisoner did to get jail time. Crimes.”

“You have come to commit crime?”

Whoops, here’s to forgetting that League trained assassins were generally literal.

“No, that’s how prisoners get jail time. I’m here to live fast, kick ass, and eat grass. Veganism isn’t a phase.”

Ancients, what was he saying? Time to make an exit- but he would be back. He couldn’t live without Damian now that he knew his brother was alive and no longer under Grandfather’s thumb.

“Anyways, I gotta jet- smell ya later!”

Before either of the other men could react, Danny turned intangible and invisible, sinking through the stone floor and zipping his way back to the hotel he was supposed to be in.

It didn’t sink in until after the lecture from his teacher.

“Wait, was that the Batcave?”

#danny phantom #dp x batman #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #damian wayne #danny fenton #tim drake

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patoslover · 9 months ago

Text

Sorry this is kinda long.... I would have liked to share this in the discord server, it's a more private way, but then the lockdown happened and I don't think I can wait any longer to show this.

Ok so.... Yesterday night, I got a bit emotional over my life and a little reflecting on what has happened the past month or so and how it affected me and all [10khaos, maggots discord sv, 15khaos, apocalypselockdown, among others] (as I always do, I'm such a soft-ass (I do hope that made up word doesn't mean anything flirty I'm trying to lowkey insult myself in here tyvm English)) And so as I always do when emotions hit, I wrote a poem-kinda-thing.

I showed it to @lxvenderjewel and @falling-raine and this happened

And later @the-beard-of-edward-teach saw it and well....

I made changes to it since I showed it to them, but it's for better, trust me.

(the poem is at the bottom of the post woo)

I think that's enough of a warning for y'all. But just in case, this made people cry, this poem, it's very very dear to me in levels I can't write I can't explain I can't put into poems all the feelings and stuff, but I hope this poem makes up for the most part.

Be careful. I love you.

Thank you @the-beard-of-edward-teach @arkytiorlecter @voids-ideas @orpiknight @cawdra @apollos-dodgeball-target @obsessed-sketches @zonzolik @dashoulinas-fandom-dump @eybefioro @queermarzipan @lxvenderjewel @ivory--raven @styx142 @myfranticscribbles @empressumbreon @frogs-go-ribbit @thearoacemess @goodomensduh @sounds-void-fishy @arkytiorlecter @random-doctor-on-the-internet @apophid-I-eat-everything @achilles-in-a-blanket-burrito @hello-ello-ello @harbinger-of-existential-dread @howmanyholesinswisscheese @an-ace-on-the-case @goblin-named-sam @1800ineedshelp @chaoticgenderflood @ivory--raven @aroaceblackhole @three-smiles-and-a-unicorn @coppicegate @zonzolik @falling-raine @dashoulinas-fandom-dump @koboldkatalyst @arkytiorlecter @friday-im-in-love-with-crowley @good-usernames-were-taken @weirdly-specific-but-ok THANK YOU THANK YOU ILY (oh wow that's a lot of ppl) (PLS PLS tell me if I forgot anyone there's so many of you, SORRY IF I TAGGED YOU TWICE AAA AND I'M SORRY IF YOU WERE TAGGED AND DUNNO WTF I AM I GOT LOST WITH THE TAGS AAAA AND SORRY IF I TAGGED U AND THE TAG DIDN'T WORK)

I love you all so so so so so so so much, you're so dear to me. Thank you. This is a gift for you.

Demons Out.

There's a hell outside,

Demonic screaming,

Trees, fall's leaving.

And I'm just here inside,

In my bubble.

Trapped inside me,

Trapped in myself.

There's demons out,

Asking to come.

But I won't let them,

I'm not alone.

Inside myself,

Inside my world,

I've got most people

Than all of your's.

They're worth more

Than any gold,

And they're far way,

More beautiful

Than any Sun,

Than any Star,

They are right here,

They are right now.

They're my comfort,

And some my loss,

But they're all lovely

Precious along.

They're the most

Amazing

Beings to exist,

And so I'm afraid

That they'll all be missed.

Because I fear

One day they'll go,

That's why I start

To sing a song.

Please let us all

Become real friends,

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out,

Angels inside.

There's me in-between

Caring for (them) all

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out.

And I'm in pain,

But not too much,

We'll find a way.

There's demons out,

We are in pain.

But I will start

To sing again.

I care for each

And every of you,

So then I start

To sing a song.

Please let us all

Reunite again.

There's demons out.

We'll try again.

#idk #I hope this finds you all well lovely maggots #you're all amazing #ily #ilysm y'all #poetry #little written poem #small written poem #apocalypselockdowm #apocalypselockdown #lockdownapocalypse #the maggots #the official maggots server of doom #have a nice day or nght

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salty-croissants · 1 year ago

Note

I’m literally in love with your stuff. Can you maybe to Bullfrog and Rayman with an autistic reader?

Thank you for the request !

I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying my writings , it really means a lot ❤️

I gotta say I was a bit worried about not doing this one right … I did put a few things that I personally find relatable as someone who is autistic myself , thought it would be nice to include is all , I hope this works !

Details : use of gender neutral reader ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed

Bullfrog 💚

So , this frog man ? He loves you unconditionally , and he just really wants you to know that he will always accept you and your unique traits , even when you feel insecure about them …

< I … I don’t know , Bullfrog … sometimes I just feel like all I’m doing is being a burden to y - >

< Non . Don’t even finish that .

You’re the most wonderful person I have ever met , y/n , and there isn’t a single day in which I’m not thankful for having you in my life . >

< Really … ? >

< Oui , mon amour . I long for nothing more than being with you . >

< *sniff* >

< Oh - Are you alright ? I’m so sorry , I didn’t mean to make you cry - >

< Heh … it’s okay … I’m just really happy .

I love you so much ~ >

Bullfrog loves listening to you enthusiastically going on and on about something you’re passionate about , especially when he’s not having a good day :

just hearing the sound of your voice is so , so very comforting to him … if he could he would sit beside you for days , his attention reserved for you and you alone .

< … and what’s even more awesome is that there is actually a really subtle easter egg hidden in the background which changes the entire narrative for that charact -

… wait , how long have I been … ? >

< That is very interesting my dear !

Please keep going , j'adore le son de ta voix ~ >

< Aww - >

Your adorable expressions when he showers you with compliments …

Bullfrog can’t even begin to describe how happy they make him ://)

If being around people gets too overwhelming , Bullfrog is quick to pick up on that and he’ll immediately get you someplace more quiet , willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re comfortable and safe …

< Is this really okay ? I’m so sorry , it’s just … it was so crowded and loud in there , and I … >

< Mon cher , there is no reason for you to be sorry … let’s just stay here for now , then if you wish to try and go back in we can do that , or we can always go back home : I assure you , you’ve already done more than enough tonight … I am very proud of you , and you should be too . >

And if one day something starts making you very , very anxious ?

Well , no matter what the reason is and no matter how small it might be Bullfrog is going to stay close to you to help you out in whatever way he can .

< I’m so sorry for making you put up with me like this … you already have so much to take care of , and this … is just dumb . >

< y/n , ce n'est pas te supporter , you know that .

I want to be there for you , the same way you’re always there for me …

I promise you , we can find a way out of this , you don’t have to deal with it on your own . >

< Thank you so much , Bullfrog … you’re amazing ~ >

< Ce serait toi , my dear … I’m truly blessed to have you by my side ~ >

Rayman 🧡

Saying that you mean a lot to this man would be an understatement …

You mean absolutely everything to him , so you better believe that Rayman will always be careful about all the things that could potentially make you uncomfortable , remembering them all very accurately .

< Here sweetie , hold my hand for a moment … >

< Oh - okay , but why ? >

< We’re gonna need to pass through that crowd over there , it should be quick but I don’t want you to get overwhelmed by having many people and loud noises all around , so let’s just stay close until we get through … >

< Thanks Ray … just … don’t let go , please . >

< I would never . >

All the effort Rayman puts into making you feel as comfortable as possible no matter where the two of you are … it never fails to warm your heart .

If anyone even remotely says something mean spirited about you …

Ohh boy , he’s not going to let it slide .

< Uh , excuse me ? WHAT was that about my partner ? >

< Ray , honey , it’s okay … >

Yeah , Rayman is definitely very protective of you , and he will defend you with no hesitation if anyone dares to try and make you feel inadequate in any way .

Rayman loves listening to you talk about whatever topics come to your mind while he’s working …

It actually helps him focus quite a lot , and he really never gets bored of seeing how happy you look when info dumping about something you’re passionate about .

You’re just so pretty ! He can’t get over it …

If you tend to lose focus to the point of forgetting to take care of yourself , Rayman has got you covered : he makes sure to remind you to eat and drink water often , even leaving little notes in places where he knows you’ll find them …

“Important : remember to eat today ! <3”

“If you’re reading this … get a glass of water !”

His devotion to you is nothing less than adorable … but then again , you’re the person he cares about most , the one that showed him kindness without asking for anything in return , so now ?

Rayman deems it only fair to repay that kindness in his own way .

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #rayman #gender neutral reader #bullfrog x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk bullfrog

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

childhood friends to lovers

words: 800

“how is he so handsome?” you rest your chin against your hand, admiring rafe from the second story balcony as he climbs back onto the yacht, hair wet and body dripping with sea water.

wheezie makes a face, “stop, that’s my brother!”

you laugh and look away that way rafe doesn’t realize you’ve been eyeing him, admiring his muscles. “sorry, wheeze.”

“you just need to screw already.” wheezie comments as you head back to the interior from the upper deck, needing to get out of the sun after feeling hot watching rafe.

you snap your head to wheezie, eyes going wide. “and what would you know about screwing?” you ask.

“sorry, kiss or whatever. just get it out of your system, you've been in love with him since i was born.” wheezie flops down on the couch, and you’re quick to join her.

“i’m not in love with him.” you say, staring up at the white ceiling.

“yeah, right.” wheezie says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

“we are friends! best friends. i’ve known him since i was a baby! i am not in love with him, he is my friend.” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince wheezie or yourself more.

“listen, i know i’m just a kid to you two, but i see things. get over it and tell him you want to be more than friends.”

you frown and cross your arms, thinking over wheezies words.

“you’re staring again.” wheezie says, making rafe jolt. in his trance, he honestly forgot she was there.

“wasn’t.” rafe says, but his eyes flick back to you. you’re splashing in the shallow water, playing with one of your small cousins.

“you always stare at her… and she always stares at you, too.”

rafe finally looks away from you, glaring at wheezie. “she doesn’t stare at me.”

“she does.” wheezie scoffs. “and it’s getting freaking annoying. can you two just date already?”

“i don’t see her like that.” rafe says, “every guy in her life comes in wanting to date her, i’m her friend, she needs me to just be her friend.”

“i think she rejects all those guys because they’re not you. trust me, she talks to me.” wheezie picks her phone back up, hoping that’s the end of the conversation, but rafe is persistent. he takes the phone out of wheezie’s hand and sets it on the empty beach chaise next to them.

“she talks to you about me?”

wheezie is beyond annoyed with the back and forth, and decides a little white lie would never hurt if you both got what you actually wanted. “yes. she’s in love with you. go and kiss her already.”

“hey.” rafe says, flopping onto the bed in the guest room of tanneyhill that practically belonged to you considering how much you slept over.

“hi.” you giggle, pushing his bangs out of his face so you can see his eyes better.

“i’m not tired yet, want to take a walk with me?” rafe asks, pouting out his bottom lip just slightly to entice you to come.

“rafey, i’m already in my pajamas.” you whine, pulling your blanket down a little so he can see your pjs.

“please.” rafe says, a word that rarely comes out of his mouth. you grin, unable to resist when he’s being so sweet. you sigh dramatically and then throw your blankets off, getting up and slipping into your crocs.

“lets go.” you say, reaching your hand out for rafe. he takes it as you head down the stairs and out the door into the cool air, the breeze making it ever so slightly chilly, especially for the end of summer.

rafe keeps your hands locked together as he guides you down the sidewalk. you’re not sure where he’s leading you, but you’d follow him anywhere. you just enjoy the feeling of his rough palm against yours, the backtrack of crickets and frogs, and the moon lighting your way between street lights.

“oh, look how pretty!” you say, coming up to a house with fairy lights decorating their fence.

“almost as pretty as you.” rafe says, and you turn to him confused, letting out an awkward giggle.

“thanks, i guess.” you shrug, unused to these kinds of compliments from rafe.

“i was talking with wheezie about you the other day.” rafe says, hoping he can lead you into the topic he really wants to talk about.

“oh yeah, so was i.” you hum, wondering what his conversation was about.

“you know you’re my best friend.” rafe grabs your hands so you stop, illuminated by the twinkling fairy lights. you turn to face him, letting out a nod. of course you know, you’ve been best friends forever.

“but i was thinking maybe we could try being more than that.” rafe admits.

“really?” you squeak, surprised that he felt the same as you.

#obxweek23 #reupload!#rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot

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goeswiththeflo · 4 months ago

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Knitblr friends!

Can I ask for help/advice please?

I'm knitting the shiftigan : https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/shiftigan

It's my first stranded color work, first steeking project, first cardigan and first fitted piece of clothing!

I just split for sleeves and tried it on, and am concerned that the bottom edge of the sleeve is rising too far up into my armpit ? I don't know how better to describe it except that it feels weird. And the seam of my T-shirt sleeve was lower than it felt like the cardigan sleeve would fall which makes me worried about fitting it on over base layers.

So questions:

1. Does anyone have any good sleeve fit tutorials? (I've been trying to read the notes on other ravlery project posts but haven't found anything relevant yet)

2. Is the height of the base of the sleeve cast-on likely to change much once I pickup/start building out the sleeve? Or after blocking?

3. If I go off pattern and add length before splitting for sleeves, how do I tell where to split?

Any advice appreciated at this point! I'm only 3 rows beyond the split right now, so easy enough to frog if needed!

#knitblr #knitting advice #help please #shiftigan #sleeves #having fun but hoping for advice!#do i trust the pattern?#or adjust it and hope it doesn't cause me headaches?

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jade-green-butterfly · 3 months ago

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'A new Trolls OC appeared!' ...Tee-hee~!🤭 Well, after seeing my dear @x-elyssa-x's brand new Trolls species, I was feeling inspired and just HAD TO create one myself~!🤩It's two of my favourite things after all - unicorns and DreamWorks Trolls, what's not to love??🦄😍✨🎶

And here we have my very own Unicorn Troll OC, meet Zerafina~💜A fair young lady of high class, and inspired the by the well-loved classy girls and their personalities - Rarity from MLP: FIM💎and Charlotte La Bouff or Lottie from Disney's Princess And The Frog🩷

BIO: Zerafina is a prim and proper Unicorn Troll, yet is a gentle and generous soul with a heart of gold. Though high class and only daughter of the rich couple and her parents, Xanos and Yvette (I made their names begin with the last letters of the alphabet - X, Y, Z...get it? See what I did there?😉) Zerafina was raised not to look down on others, meaning her family seem to have more good sense than the others of the high class. For class really matters not to them, especially Zerfina. It's the Unicorn Troll, themselves that are worthy - inside and out if proven well, otherwise. Zerafina is also good friends with the siblings of the low class, Snowflake and Zircon. Although Zircon can easily get annoyed by her sometimes, he is grateful to Zerafina, deep down for befriending and supporting his dear sister. The high class female is fully aware that Snowflake is deaf, and is willing to understand and learn sign language better. Zircon's seriousness can also get on Zerafina's nerves sometimes, and she wishes he'd lightened up and smile more (with much encouragement from both her and Snowflake) yet still deeply respects and admires him all the same. Despite feeling annoyance between one another, perhaps together, Zircon and Zerafina will feel something more over time...~ Zerafina's magic is wind/air. Where she can control its velocity, create air spheres and gusts, and be able to lift anytroll or any object up with it. And she also plays the clarinet, which is a beautifully carved wooden one with a rose gold sheen.

Hope you all like, my dears - especially you, Ely~💕🤗I had so much fun bringing Zerafina's character and design to life, and I am so thrilled with how she turned out!👏🏻🥰💖Enjoy, like I am~💗😚👍🏻xoxo.

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Zerafina (c) @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!) Unicorn Trolls (c) @x-elyssa-x~💜

DreamWorks Trolls (c) DreamWorks Animation

#dreamworks trolls #trolls world tour #trolls trollstopia #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls species #unicorn trolls #trolls oc #zerafina #zerafina the unicorn troll #x-elyssa-x #jade-green-butterfly

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 months ago

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Role Reversal

Roman kept mentioning that he doesn’t like transformations and it kept reminding me of Patton turning into a giant frog and Janus disguising himself as other sides. It would be very cool and epic if you could make some Roman angst based off this concept (no pressure obviously) – anon

The song "I Am in Great Pain, Please Help Me" by Crywank reminds me so much of Roman (specifically, your brand of Roman angst). I was wondering if you had the spoons for it, to write something inspired by it? No pressure to, ofc! – anon

Perhaps something where Roman is comforting Logan and then after Roman leaves, Logan is like, “Wait, shit, I should have been comforting YOU!”. You know the scene in What Makes A Perfect Gift where Logan asks for Roman’s input and Roman looks genuinely surprised? The angst potential for Roman not thinking he’s needed at a BRAINSTORM is so slept on. I know you’ve had a lot of Roman angst asks lately so I understand if you don’t want to do it, but I definitely wanted to ask just in case! – anon

Roman angst disguised as Logan centric. Logan Sherlock fic about him trying to figure out why Thomas’s mental health is so bad. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman being insecure, logan being insecure

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3143

Logan feels stressed about Thomas's mental health and goes to Roman for help discussing a possible upcoming video, only for Roman to accurately guess that Logan's feeling insecure about his own role in keeping Thomas happy and healthy. Little does Logan know: there's more going on than meets the eye and it isn't until later that he realizes Roman's far more fragile than anyone could've guessed. After that, well, there's really only one course of action.

If Logan had not been paying very, very close attention, there is every possibility that he could have missed it.

He almost did; despite being entirely focused on his goal, he has to admit that it wasn't something he saw as necessarily related, and as such, dismissed initially as not relevant to solving the problem of why Thomas's mental health had been in a steady decline since the wedding. However, upon further reflection, he can conclude that not only was the sudden tightening of Roman's expression related, it was most likely the strongest indicator he's seen since he began.

"Sorry, Specs, I think my hearing cut out of a second there." Roman scratches the back of his head almost sheepishly. "Can you—can you say that one more time?"

"I believe it would be helpful for Thomas for us to do another 'low-key' video, as it were, and for you and I to work together."

"Yes, I heard that part."

"As we want to focus on recapturing some of Thomas's whimsy and zest for life—" here Roman's expression quirks towards amusement— "it would be apt for you to try and recreate some of the dreams Thomas has held onto in the past."

"Right, but not like—"

"Including transforming into those he aspired to be or the roles he aspired to fill," Logan finishes, frowning when there's that momentary tightness in Roman's smile again, "do you concur?"

"I—so I'm all for helping Thomas fall in love with his dreams again, you know, but, um…" He twists his fingers together. "I'm not sure that this is…the best way to do it?"

"You are the embodiment of Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Who else would be better equipped to help me?"

Roman blinks as if he hadn't been expecting the comment. Which is in and of itself a little odd; Roman typically never passes up the opportunity to remind them of his standing in Thomas's psyche, nor to claim credit for half of the things Thomas does even when it's far more of a group effort. "Right, but I don't see how me turning into various things would be helpful."

"Thomas is a very visual learner. It's been proven in the past via various theater productions and other activities that he thrives in environments where he can immerse himself in what it is he's doing. By having you, his Creativity, directly mimic the dreams he wishes or wished to obtain, we draw a more substantial connection between the Thomas that he is now and the Thomas he aspires to be."

Roman's mouth works. Logan frowns.

"If you have something you want to say, Roman, by all means, speak your mind. This brainstorm won't be nearly as successful if only one of us is contributing."

"Where is this coming from, Logan?"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"This." Roman gestures back and forth between them. "This sudden need to 'fix' Thomas. You've been pretty clear with the rest of us that you don't think staying 'in his head' would be helpful, not when you're working so hard on your lists that you want him to do."

"Well, it's been pretty clear those aren't working, so—"

"But they have been. You know they have been—we all celebrated when Thomas finally managed to clean his kitchen and you were right, he did feel better afterwards. Your methods were working, are working."

Logan swallows. He did feel very accomplished after the last bowl had been placed in the cupboard, and no one had been happier than he when Thomas not only made himself dinner but cleaned up afterwards, but this was different. "Thomas deserves the drive to go after what he wants as well as doing the maintenance required to sustain his current lifestyle."

Roman nods. "And what sorts of things are those?"

"Roman, I don't understand—"

"Please," he interrupts, holding up his hands, "humor me?"

"You're the one who's Hopes and Dreams," he protests feebly, "you're Creativity. I'm not going to be good at coming up with them."

"Just try. You're better at it than you think."

"O-oh." He blinks. "Thank you, Roman."

"Of course."

"Uh—well, I think Thomas has a passion for filmmaking that he hasn't fully realized in shooting the YouTube videos due to the constraints of the channel."

"Okay."

"He's been enjoying doing the modeling shoots for Instagram as well. And he has a few shows that he wants to catch up on—not a dream, I know, but something he wants to do."

"That's good, Logan. What else?"

"Does he still have the dream of being an actor? On a more professional level?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, there you are, then."

Roman nods. "And if we go off of your transformation idea, what—what exactly would I be transforming into?"

He furrows his brow. "Well, you would be—if you were doing—I suppose you—ah. I see your point."

"It's not that there's something Thomas isn't that we need to make him into," Roman says quietly, "we can just remind him of the things that are already inside him that he can chase and pursue."

"…that is a very valid conclusion to have reached."

"He doesn't have to work all the time—I think both you and I know the dangers of letting yourself believe you can," he says with a gentle nudge to Logan's shoulder, "he can give himself time to rest and work on things that he wants to, not things that he has to."

"And I suppose making another video would be counterproductive to this aim, as it requires a level of work that would not be outweighed by the reassurance it might provide."

"I don't know if I would've said it nearly as well as you, but yeah, pretty much."

Logan sighs, closing his notebook with an almost despondent flap. "Then I suppose I have nothing else to work on."

"Good."

He frowns at Roman. "'Good?'"

"Well, now that means you can do the things that you want to do."

"M-me? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Did we not just go over how important it is to not be consumed by work all the time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Did we not just talk about how it's necessary to rest and do the things you want to do from time to time?"

"I don't—"

"Did you not just say that you have nothing else to work on right now?"

"I know what you're doing," he says, meaning for it to come out accusatory and missing dreadfully, "it's not going to work."

"Me convincing you to take time for yourself and enjoy spending your time how you want to spend it isn't going to work?" Roman grins, leaning forward onto his elbows, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you sure?"

"Roman," he warns.

"What? It's not like I was the only one who came to this conclusion about Thomas a second ago, you were instrumental in figuring it out, Specs."

"Roman."

"And we all know that you're way smarter than I am, so if you're going to take your own advice—which you should, then—"

"Alright!" Roman laughs as Logan buries his face in his hands, trying not to smile too obviously at the praise or blush from how many compliments Roman's just given him, "you've made your point, you can stop now."

"I think you mean I've just reiterated your point, but that's alright." A warm hand pats his shoulder. "You're doing great, Logan. You don't have to stress out about this right now. Thomas has earned a break and so have you, okay?"

"…I suppose there are a few things I've been waiting to do that could occupy my time."

"There you go!" Roman claps his hands and gets up, affectionately ruffling Logan's hair and dodging his attempts to swat him. "Let me know how it goes, I'd love to hear about whatever you're working on."

Logan aims another swat at his shoulder and misses, watching Roman sink out. He shakes his head, unable to keep the growing smile off his face as he thinks about his own projects. Yes, there are several things he could do, he could work on refining the data for the experiment, he could read that study he's been eyeing for a few days, he could look over the manuscript he's drafting…

It isn't until he gets back to his room with a different notebook open on his desk that he pauses.

Why had Roman been upset at the suggestion of transformation?

They had agreed upon resting and doing what they wanted, letting Thomas do what he wanted. They had agreed that resting was good, pursuing one's own passions was good. What about transformations had rankled Roman so? He hadn't directly addressed it—something virtually unheard of for Roman. Perhaps it had been something to do with the act of transforming itself? But no, Roman had always been among the first to thrill at being someone else, or pretending to be someone else. What had caused such a dramatic shift?

What sorts of transformations had they done recently? There had been the whole thing with Remus—Logan suppresses a shudder as he remembers Remus's song and everything that happened in it—but Roman had been unconscious for most of it. Aside from that, it had been…

Well, Janus had been transforming into them more often than not, but that was him, mostly, not Roman. And Patton had become the giant frog, but that hadn't really affected Roman that much either. No, the last time Roman had been the one transforming, it had been…for…

Logan stands up, eyes still fixed on a point in the distance as his mind races.

Roman hadn't transformed for himself. It had always been at the whim of someone else. Roman was Hopes and Dreams—Thomas's Hopes and Dreams. Roman did things for Thomas. He was Thomas's wants. Despite how often they all called him selfish, he…he didn't really fight for the things that he wanted.

Could he name a single thing that Roman wanted that wasn't something for Thomas?

I think you and I both know the dangers of believing you can work all the time.

There's nothing that Thomas isn't that we need to make him into.

"Oh, Roman," he whispers into the quiet room, "when did you get so good at hiding?"

He doesn't want to know the answer, but his mind is already coming up with a helpful list of every time he can remember where Roman let himself get pushed to the side, overruled, scolded, overlooked, for the sake of someone else. He thinks about the times where Roman had been obviously uncomfortable with what they wanted him to do, and then did it anyway. He thinks about how long it's been since he's actually heard Roman say what he wanted, not what Thomas wanted, not what Patton or Janus or even he wanted.

How long has it been since someone wanted Roman for Roman?

He looks back down at his desk and pulls out a different notebook. He's underestimated Roman. He won't go into this upcoming conversation unprepared.

***

He knocks on Roman's door as softly as he can, waiting for the quiet come in to push it open. Roman looks up from his—

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Roman," he murmurs before he can stop himself, crouching next to Roman's slumped figure and carding a hand through his hair, "I'm so sorry."

"N-no, I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I can—" he scrubs a hand harshly across his face— "it's fine. What, um, what do you—"

Another sob interrupts him before he can finish asking if Logan needs anything, which only makes his chest ache all the more. He eases himself down next to Roman's buckled legs and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders, pulling him close enough to wipe a thumb across his cheek.

"Shh," he says when Roman tries to speak again, "don't stress yourself. I'm not here for anything other than this, little one."

The pet name rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, but at the slightly wounded noise that leaves Roman's lips, he resolves to use them as often as he can. He scratches his nails lightly against his scalp, shushing him again when he tries to stifle another sob.

"I'm here because I realized I'd hurt you earlier," he continues, still speaking gently, "and I did not attempt to comfort you in any way. No, no—don't pull away from me, dear. Shh, don't fret, don't fret, I'm not upset—look at me, Roman, do I look upset?"

Roman's eyes, still filled with tears, roam frantically over his face. Logan keeps his expression as soft and open as he can, letting the concern write itself plainly over the furrow in his brow. After another moment, Roman sniffles and he's already reaching for the tissue box he can see perched haphazardly on the end of the desk. He takes it with a grateful mumble and blows his nose with a honk.

"You were right. You don't need to change to be worth something, or to be fixed. You don't need to become something you're not—oh, darling, hush, now," he says when Roman's eyes grow wide with distress, "I'm not angry, I'm not—oh, you poor thing."

For Roman had begun to sob in earnest, trying in equal parts to pull away from Logan's embrace and push himself near into his chest. Logan slides an arm under his legs and pulls them into his lap, tucking Roman's face into the crook of his neck and kissing the crown of his head. There's a moment where Roman tenses and he fears he might pull away, but then he all but collapses into him and buries his nose in Logan's shirt.

"There you go, little one, shh, it's alright. You can cry, crying is good. You're alright, you're safe, I'm right here." He runs his hand up and down Roman's back. "Shh, shh, that's it…that's it, my dear."

"Sorry—'m so sorry—"

"Shh-shh-shh, no apologies from you, not about this. You're overwhelmed and overworked, it's perfectly alright for you to be emotional right now. You can let it out, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm here to help."

"Help?"

"Mm. You took great pains to comfort me earlier, even when I did not ask, and you," and here he gives Roman a little shake, "have not let anyone comfort you in quite a long time. So yes, I am here to comfort you, to help, and if that means letting you cry in my lap for as long as you need, then that is what I shall do."

"It's so hard," comes the sniffling whisper from under his chin, "I keep—I keep trying to be what they want but they don't know what they want and then it's my fault and I can't—they keep changing and wanting me to change and I can't—"

"Shh, shh…hush, my dear, it's alright. That's right, just let me hold you…"

They spend a great deal of time like that, curled up on the floor. Logan keeps carding his hand through Roman's hair, soothing away the more violent of sobs with gentle touches up and down his back or patting his chest. How long has Roman been holding this in? How long has it been since their prince has let himself fall apart without remorse? And how long has it been since they took pains enough to notice?

He pulls himself from his own thoughts when Roman's head turns, bumping slightly against his chin. He tilts his head to press a kiss to his temple, leaning back just enough to see the blotchy face come into view. Taking another tissue, he carefully dabs up the last of the tears he can see, holding it so Roman can blow his nose again.

"…thanks, Logan."

"Of course, my dear." He raises an eyebrow at the little shudder that goes through him. "No?"

"N-no, yes. Yes. Very much yes. Sorry."

"None of that now, my dear. Do you feel any better?"

"A little bit."

"That's excellent. Shall we sit here for a little longer, or do you want to move somewhere a little more comfortable?"

"C-can we just stay here for a little longer?"

"Of course we can." He runs his thumb over Roman's cheek again. "I am truly sorry it took me so long to figure out what was going on, little one. But I'm here now."

Roman averts his gaze and once again Logan is struck by how different Roman is right now; no longer does he see their fiery prince who so eloquently made him take his own advice mere hours ago, instead he sees a shell of a Side who shies away from a gentle touch like a dog too scared to eat. The comparison alone is enough to coax him to lean forward and kiss his cheek, cuddling him against his chest.

"I'm here now," he repeats, "let me look after you."

"You will?"

"Yes, Roman, I will. I'm right here—" he pulls him a little closer— "I've got you, little one, you're alright."

"I don't know what to do."

"Right now?"

"…anymore."

Logan's heart clenches in his chest and he forces the ache away, running his thumb over his cheek once more. "Well, what do you want to do right now?"

"I want to stay here."

"Then we shall stay here. And when you're ready to figure out what you want to do next," he says, adjusting them until they're both comfortable as can be, "I will be here to help."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #logan sanders

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sadie-bug345 · 7 months ago

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greasers when they’re sick

i myself have been deathly ill for the past week so whilst i am bedridden i’m writing this🤡🙆‍♀️🤩 ANYWAYS LETS GO

ponyboy:

hates missing school solely cause my guy despises talking to teachers abt what he missed

also cause he thinks he gets super behind when guy just skipped one day of school😭

probably holes himself up in his and sodas room and when soda comes in to check on him after work it’s like PITCH black and pony is just sitting in a pile of tissues

”what do YOU want?” says pony with a voice similar to kermit the frog cause bros nose is SO stuffed up

and soda just assumes pony is in one of his moody, poetry reciting moods again and slowly exits the room, leaving only a baloney sandwich in his wake💀🤡😭

johnny:

def the type to not accept help

like he would go to school sick and the second someone brings up how his voice is screwed up he’s like 😐”what’re you sayin bout me?”

if the gang does quarantine him to a room he’d def just be able to entertain himself and prob come up with his own secret language and fictional multiverse or smth

idk he just gives the type to be fully okay with being alone for a bit but the meds he’s on make him all wacky too so it’s an interesting mix for sure

sodapop:

i’m sorry this guy has the most nastiest cough 😭

idc if he doesn’t smoke a lot he just got those mucusy coughs

other than that everyone’s having a good time, making jokes and feeling good and then soda pauses his laughter and unleashes the most rattley cough and then everyone just goes quiet and he just looks like 😃

definitely unfazed by sickness in general

until one day my guy just has the worst time and breaks downnnn🥰

we’ve all been there too esp when you’re sick and shit just goes downhill and everything sucks and you hate everything and everyone

darry:

now johnny doesn’t accept help but that’s NOTHING compared to darry

he has peak older-sibling syndrome and is just used to only helping other people

so when those people that he takes care of flip the script, my guy is just weirded outtt

like he def appreciates two trying to make him soup but he just doesn’t know how to react

goes lowk crazy with not being able to work or straighten up the house just cause he always feels like he’s gotta do SOMETHING productive with his time

dally:

i’m sorry but guy is def the type to go to school FULLY sick and either not say a word about it or complain like a lil bitch the whole time

also he totally smokes while he has a cough like soda which is so unhealthy i can’t even😭

just overall his habits and life doesn’t get upended by “some fuckass cold” (his words, not mine)

like bro please you just gotta rest sometimes😭

the gang is able to get him to stay at the curtis’ couch one day and bro just WIPES OUT

istg he’s out for like 15 hours straight in the full daytime and everyone is scared to walk past in case they wake him up

but dally is a crazy heavy sleeper so he actually gets a lot better after calming down for once🥰

two-bit:

honestly stays home from school like a normal person

except bro gets one cold and then just doesn’t show up to school for like two weeks😭

and it’s not cause he’s a wimp it’s just cause guy finds an excuse to skip out for a so called “vacation” and he rolls with it

and then he’ll just spawn back in on campus like a month later like nothing happened and everyone just expected two to take a dare too far and end up in the hospital🤡

steve:

CANT STOP WONT STOP

bro just pushes thru the pain😭

he probably takes way too much of the recommended dose of general meds (don’t do this please🧍‍♀️)

and then goes all loopy for hours straight

and people are kinda sus about it but honestly it’s steve so who is really all that surprised

LMAO THAT SOUNDS MEAN SORRY STEVE

ANYWAYSSSS i think imma post a romantic kinda sick reader x greaser thing so that’ll hopefully come out soon while im still coughing my lungs out🫶

#the outsiders #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #darry curtis #the outsiders sodapop #steve randle #two bit mathews #matt dillon #sodapop curtis

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gunthermunch · 2 years ago

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Come so far, don't lose me It matters where you are

[Transcript under the cut]

Lucas: luckily Pierce took all my frogs with him, i don't think i'll have the time to care for them. Lucas: also! Elsa and Max will be pretty close! Foxbury and Britechester have some kind of rivalry goin on right? Gunther: yes, to put it in some way. Wolfgang: enough with the bullshit, how hard did he push you? Lucas: i told you it was nothing! it's… alright. Lucas: things are okay, i think. That night i didn't even cry, seriously. Lucas: Max and i are still friends, that's all i care about. Lucas: all this time… he was just having a hard time figuring himself out. and i understand his reasons for not telling me before. Lucas: and for real, i'm not mad or sad at all, so, NO attacking Max! Gunther: goodness gracious i'm not hitting Ulrike's favorite anytime soon Marcus: are you guys done? mila says hurry up Lucas: almost! Wolfgang: yeah Marcus i think so. what's with the hurry… Lucas: oh- wait i… i'll check my daisies. Gunther: ok but- make it quick.

Max: i thought you wouldn't make it Lucas: who do you think i am Lucas: …when are you leaving? Max: now. what about you? Lucas: tonight, i'm almost done packing. Lucas: oh Max. i'm so excited, you're gonna blow them up!- metaphorically. Max: …you think so? Lucas: well of course! Lucas: i'm so proud of you Max, about… everything. Max: ugh… prom is a blob. Lucas: you took me by surprise. Lucas: turns out we are more alike than we thought Max: yeah… Lucas: I'm… gonna miss y- Lucas: it won't be the same without you Max: i'll try to visit, i know it's a long trip from Britechester to Henford but- i swear i'll try. Lucas: i know, messed up boomerang Max: chuckles Lucas: Listen Max i… i can't put it into words but, you mean so much to me. please remember that Max: enough mushy shit, farmer Lucas: hey don't cry… we'll keep in touch Lucas: you better get going Max: yeah… Luna's gonna cut my legs Lucas: have fun, text me when you get there Max: bye Lucas Lucas: …wait? Lucas: i love you. so much, Max. David: everything set? Max: yeah, we can go. Max: …stop the car, David. Max: LUCAS, WAIT! Max: I LOVE YOU!!! Lucas: haha! NOT MORE THAN I DO!!!

#FINALLY I CAN POST #ts4 #munch #lucas munch #gunther munch #wolfgang munch #max villareal #strawberry the dog

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captainsophiestark · 1 year ago

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Ragtag

Grant Ward x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 1 Prompt: "It's not too late, let's go."

Summary: The scene with FitzSimmons and Garrett on the Bus at the end of Season 1 if, instead of FitzSimmons, Grant had found and captured his long-time best friend, partner, and girlfriend.

Word Count: 4,158

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. No depictions of it, but the mention/realization that a character has been abused in the past, while staring at/standing in the same hallway as the abuser.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

This had to be a nightmare.

With each step I took, one foot in front of the other, I willed myself to wake up, to realize everything had just been a bad dream. And with each step, I was forced closer to the realization that my situation was heartbreakingly, terrifyingly real.

The past week, I'd had a line of similar thoughts, hoping and praying that the fall of SHIELD and the betrayal of my best friend and boyfriend, Grant Ward, had been some insane fever dream. That I'd wake up in the med pod on the Bus, the team happy to see me awake, and that I'd realize everything had been some horrible concoction of my imagination instead. But just like now, I'd been forced to come to terms with the fact that I was wide awake.

First, I thought the nightmare was Hydra's infiltration. Then it became Garrett, Grant's mentor and basically surrogate father, being a traitor. Then it was discovering Grant was a traitor. Now, it had reached a whole new level, as Grant frog-marched me toward the Bus that he and Garrett had taken over, my hands tied behind my back and his gun forcing me to keep moving forward.

"Grant... what are you doing?" I breathed, trying to keep the tears out of my voice as we neared the ramp of the plane. Garrett had taken things over in the name of Hydra, and he clearly had some hold over my boyfriend. Every step towards that ramp lowered my odds of making it through this.

"We can't have SHIELD following us, that's all," he said. He kept his voice level, trying to convince me he was being reasonable, like I'd heard him do with our enemies on missions countless times before. I shook my head.

"You are SHIELD, Grant," I said. "Please, please remember that."

His grip tightened slightly on my forearm as he led me to the base of the ramp, a comforting squeeze more than anything threatening. A week ago, it would've put me at ease.

"I'm not the man you think I am," he muttered. I sighed heavily through my nose, a little bit of irritation finally flaring up.

"I know you better than anybody else on earth, apparently including you," I huffed. Grant didn't respond.

As soon as we entered the garage bay, where Lola used to sit, Grant and I were flanked by three other agents, who followed us up the stairs. Grant moved ahead, leading me through the physically wrecked and shattered hallways of the plane we'd spent a few, blissful months calling home, and my heart squeezed tight in my chest. How had everything gone so wrong?

"Here she is, sir," he said, and a second later I saw John Garrett's stupid, shitty face staring back at me. I narrowed my eyes and scowled, unable to contain my hate and anger enough to keep a neutral expression.

"What's the matter?" he asked, his tone light and teasing in a way that made my blood boil. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Maybe I've just got nothing to say to you," I replied. He had the nerve to laugh.

"Well, that's fine then. I don't know that I have much to say to you either, especially now that you're here. Thanks to Ward, you won't be much of a problem for me anymore."

Over Garrett's shoulder, I saw Grant's expression flicker and shutter. Like a kicked dog, caught between someone he loved and someone who scared him. An anger I'd only ever felt when our enemies threatened Grant welled up in my chest.

In my entire, almost fifteen-year career at SHIELD, I had managed to get through it without killing anyone. Ever. Even before I had the Icer to knock enemies out instead of shooting them the old-fashioned way, I'd made a point of using non-lethal force. It mattered to me; it felt important to find a way to do my job without killing people in the process.

Grant had never had the same reservations. It didn't bother me, and although we'd talked about it once or twice, I'd never expected him to take up my same system when we'd been partnered on missions, when we'd become good friends, or when we'd started dating. Time and again, he'd gone to the mat for me, tearing apart anyone that existed as a threat to me with a force I'd never have imagined using.

For the first time in our lives, in our decade and a half of friendship, the tables had turned.

Thanks to the rest of Coulson's team, I knew John Garrett had significant organ failure. A Cybertek device in his chest was the only thing still keeping him alive. He'd abused Grant for longer than I'd known him, and for the first time, I could see clearly how it affected Grant, in real time. For both our sakes, I couldn't let this go on any longer. I didn't know if it would kill him, and I still hoped it wouldn't, but for the first time I didn't care enough to make sure it wouldn't. I needed to get away from Garrett, and more importantly, I needed to get Grant away from Garrett. Even if it was for just a few minutes.

The Bus's engines whirled outside, and I felt us lift off the ground. An added complication, for sure, but not enough to change the plan I'd just formed in my head. I took a deep breath in and out, steadying my heartbeat and readying myself for the action ahead, like Grant had taught me years and years ago. Then, I jumped as high as I could, bringing my handcuffed hands under my feet and around to the front of my body as I did. Before anybody could register my movement, I darted forward and struck Garrett in the chest as hard as I could, putting all my weight and momentum behind both of my hands.

Garrett went down like a sack of bricks. He doubled over, gripping his middle as he groaned. I brought my knee up and hit him again before anybody could stop me, and then I took off running through the familiar passages of the jet that I used to call home.

"Garrett!" I heard Grant cry, distress in his voice that sent a pang running through my chest. I ducked around a corner at the sound of thundering footsteps behind me, and soon the agents that'd followed Grant and I from the minute we set foot on the Bus came rushing into the small common area in front of all our bunks, one room over from Garrett and Grant.

I heard shouting from the other room, and Grant's voice faded as he told Garrett to wait just a second. I tried to keep a piece of my attention focused on that while I engaged the three agents who'd decided to chase me. Even with my hands tied, they weren't much of a match for me.

I wrapped my arms around the neck of the one who'd come in last, using him as a human shield against his friends as I held him in the sleeper hold.

One by one, I worked through my three assailants, until they were each unconscious on the ground. As soon as the last one was down, I paused to tune back in to the goings-on in the other room, and heard Grant's voice as he assured Garrett that he would live. Apparently Cybertek was preparing to treat him in Miami.

I made the quick decision that I had enough time to make sure these three wouldn't continue to be a problem, so I dragged them into my old bunk (right next to Grant's) and then wedged a loose piece of the dining table's structure into the door so it couldn't open again. It likely wouldn't hold them for very long, but it was better than nothing. I took a few extra seconds to wrestle out of my handcuffs, my mind working as I did.

With Garrett and his three goons incapacitated, I had decent hope of getting Grant alone. I heard Raina, an inhuman we'd been struggling with, promising to stay in the room with Garrett and keep him safe. And then, I heard Garrett's voice hissing at Grant, barely above an ugly whisper.

"I need you to put her down."

I straightened, hands on my hips as my handcuffs finally dropped from my wrists, and frowned. There was no mistaking what he meant, but I couldn't imagine he actually thought he'd get very far ordering Grant to kill me.

"What?" Grant's voice, barely louder than Garrett's. I shifted a little closer to the doorway to hear better. "No. There's plenty of time. I won't leave you."

"And I'm telling you to cross her off for me. It's not a weakness, is it?"

The silence seemed to stretch for years. Then, finally, Grant's voice:

"No."

I turned on my heel and ran.

The nightmare continued, apparently, as the man who'd saved my life more times than I could count anymore had apparently just agreed to be my murderer. I couldn't believe he'd actually go through with it, but I also couldn't believe he'd entertain Garrett to this point. I couldn't take any risks, not now.

I slid down the ladder between the sleeping compartment and the cockpit, landing in the maze of pods in the hull just as I heard heavy footsteps overhead. My heart started racing in my chest, a fear like I'd never felt in all my near-death experiences at SHIELD gripping my chest.

Grant wouldn't actually kill me, would he?

I darted between the pods, and just like in a horror movie, I heard Grant's voice call out my name from behind me. I sped up, finally ducking into one of the pods and locking it behind me as I heard his footsteps closing in. My hand slammed on the locking device and it turned from green to red just in time. A second later, Grant appeared before me, his hand on the glass separating us.

"Open the door," he said, his eyes locked on mine. I could only see one of his hands, and my heart raced in my chest as I realized the other was likely level with his hip. I took an involuntary step backward.

"Grant... you're scaring me," I breathed, tears at last rising to the surface and threatening to fall. I'd fought them back once, but this time, I didn't think I'd be able to.

"Y/N, just open the door."

"No. I heard what you said, I heard what Garrett said. You... you wouldn't actually kill me. Would you?"

He grimaced, his jaw setting in the expression I recognized as him dealing with something he DID NOT want to deal with. My heart broke a little more in my chest.

"Just open the door."

"No! Grant, are you kidding me?" The tears were coming now, streaming down my cheeks, and I stepped towards Grant again, pressing up against the glass to get as close to him as possible. "I love you! You're my best friend, you're my partner! You're supposed to have my back through anything! I... I'd started daydreaming about marrying you! About the two of us, having the SHIELD careers recruits would be hearing about for the rest of time, before finally retiring somewhere nice together. Every time I thought about my future, Grant, you were in it... and now I might not have a future because of you? Are you kidding me?"

His expression flickered, and he couldn't keep some sadness and regret off his face when he looked at me through the glass this time. The tiniest spark of hope fluttered in my chest. If he felt bad, maybe I could still talk him off the ledge. Maybe I didn't have to lose the love of my life.

"I'm sorry. I tried to tell you... I'm a bad man. I'm not the man you thought you fell in love with."

"Bullshit!" I cried, slamming my fist into the glass in front of me. Grant jumped a little, surprise registering on his face. "You are exactly who I think you are. I know you, Grant, I've spent the last fifteen years of my life with you. Garrett may think he knows you, but he's wrong. He knows who he wants you to be. But I know who you actually are."

"You don't-"

"The sugary, caramely coffee drinks you secretly love but refuse to let anybody else but me know you drink?" I said, interrupting him with a hand on my hip, my eyes locked on his. "How invested you got in The Circle when I made you watch it on Netflix? All the time we spent planning what our strategy would be if we ever went on the show together?"

He grimaced, but I didn't give him a second to respond.

"The face mask you did with me that you loved, and all the stupid pictures we took together with the masks on? Your aggressive hatred of the Patriots even though you're from Massachusetts? The fact that you sleep best with a sleep mask, and that you have to take your socks off right before you get under the covers? Not a moment before, and definitely not after? All of that shared history, all of those things we've shared and that I've gotten to see, and you think I don't know you?"

Grant just stared at me, looking at a loss for words. I let mine hang in the air for a minute, then continued.

"I highly doubt John Garrett could list even one of those things. And those little things that you do every day, that you can't fake? That's you Grant. I know you. I know you've saved me more times than I can even count, from the demons in the real world and the ones inside my own head. So I get that Garrett's got you believing you're some kind of secret evil supervillain, but I know enough to know how ridiculous that is. You're the best man I've ever met, Grant. Please, believe me over that piece of shit upstairs that never cared enough to know the real you."

Grant still didn't speak for a few long moments, but this time, I just let the silence hang. I held his gaze, the tears having finally stopped. I didn't wipe away the remnants as they slowly dried on my face. Finally, Grant sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at the ground before returning his stare to me.

"And how exactly do you see this going?" he asked, his voice low. He'd leaned in a little, like we were co-conspirators, and I swear I felt a weight lift off my chest. The glimmer of hope had turned into a full light. "What do you expect to happen next, after all this? Don't tell me you still see a happy ending, with us retiring after full careers at SHIELD."

I sighed through my nose and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, before fixing Grant with a look. He raised his eyebrows, and I had to fight back a laugh, mostly at the relief for that small moment of our relationship back to normal.

"Well, no, I don't think that's in the cards anymore," I deadpanned. "But the only important part of my vision of the future has been you, Grant. I don't care if we get mentioned in SHIELD classes years from now or if we're labeled as failures, examples of what not to do. All that matters to me is you."

He stared at me for a few more long, silent moments. For most people, he would've been unreadable, but I recognized the slightly-wider eyes, the deer-in-headlights look he got whenever I admitted big feelings that he didn't expect me to share. It was a good sign, and when he swallowed and cleared his throat, his expression had all of the grim defeat gone, replaced instead by a shaky hope.

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we run," I said simply. "It's not too late, let's go. Let's ditch it all, and go somewhere we can start a new life together. Screw Garrett, screw SHIELD, screw Hydra. All that matters is you and me."

Grant stared at me like he didn't believe I was real. Slowly, swallowing heavy again, he nodded. I raised my eyebrows and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he finally managed, nodding again, more sure this time. "Yeah, let's do that. You're... you're all that matters to me, too."

My small smile broke into a full-on grin, and at last, I hit the lock on the door. I slid it open the moment the lock flashed green, darting forward to close the space between me and Grant and wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. I buried my face in his chest, and after a moment, he wrapped his arms around me in return.

"Well. I guess she was a weakness."

Grant and I's heads snapped up in unison to find John Garrett standing just down the hallway from us. I narrowed my eyes. Of course he'd picked this moment to show up.

Grant stiffened under my arms, and I could feel the stress radiating off of him. Garrett took a small step towards us, but I didn't dare move, lest Grant feel anymore trapped than he already did. Besides, holding him tight in a hug we'd shared during and after a thousand traumatic experiences felt like the best leg up on Garrett I could get.

"Agent Ward, I didn't train you to be a pushover. I trained you to be a man who could go in and do the job that needed to be done," said Garrett. "It's not too late. You don't want to disappoint me, son."

At the same time Garrett's words washed over Grant, he took another step closer, and his hand flexed at his side. Grant flinched under me, and I saw red.

In almost fifteen years, Grant had never flinched. Not like this. When something came flying at his face? Sure. When an especially good jump scare happened in a horror movie and he tried to hide how badly it had scared him? Always. But when someone stood apart from us, subtly threatening him? Never. Not once.

Garrett had clearly manipulated him, badly. I knew that. Throughout the course of this interaction, I'd assumed Garrett had crossed the line into mental abuse, too. But now, I realized it had gone even further. To mental and physical abuse. Garrett had hit Grant enough after Grant "failed" him, that my boyfriend, who'd stared down some of the scariest people in the world without fear, stood next to me trembling, caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Think things through here, Ward," said Garrett, continuing his slow walk towards us. "Either you kill her, or I do. Weaknesses are unacceptable, especially now that we've come out of the shadows. A happy ending doesn't exist to this love story that came from your lies at SHIELD. So don't be stupid, son. Don't make this worse on yourself than it has to be-"

My hand moved before my brain actually registered what I was doing. I grabbed the gun out of the holster at Grant's waist, the one I thought he might've decided to use on me only about ten minutes ago, and I levelled it at Garrett. I was aware enough to realize this wasn't an Icer; this had the ability to do lethal damage. And for the first time ever, I decided I didn't care. I shot John Garrett in the chest, twice. He dropped to his knees, the life quickly fading out of him, leaving a crumpled heap on the floor.

The gun fell out of my hand and clattered to the ground, my hands were shaking so bad. I dropped to my knees, a wave roaring in my ears as I stared at Garrett's dead body. Vaguely, I registered tears streaming down my face. What had I just done?

A second later, Grant dropped next to me. His arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me to him. Not only had I just killed someone, I'd killed someone important to Grant. In front of him. His abuser, yes, but that wouldn't make it much easier to watch the man he thought saved him die before his eyes.

"Grant... I'm so sorry," I breathed, the words coming out broken around sobs and gulps for air. I shook my head and buried it into his shoulder, the reality of everything washing over me again and again, like waves pounding into the shore. "I can't believe... I just killed someone. I'm so sorry, I... I've always found another way. Always. All life is precious and important, but he was just so rotten- And he was hurting you- I'm so sorry."

I broke, words failing me as I shook, sobbing, head buried in Grant's chest. He wrapped his other arm around me and held me tight, which only made me feel worse. We stayed like that for a few moments, until I finally got a hold of myself enough to look at him. His eyes remained on Garrett's broken form, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"Grant... how can you be comforting me right now? After what I did to someone you care about, I-"

I broke off again, the words turning into choked sobs as I ducked my head back into his chest. I squeezed my eyes tight, waiting for Grant to come to his senses enough to pull away. Instead, he sighed, and pulled me closer.

"Come on, is that even a real question?" he asked, his words as shaky as both of us combined. "The same way you forgave me for everything I did. I love you. And... if you, of all people, decided the right decision was to shoot John Garrett? ...Well, I don't know. Maybe he was having a worse impact on me than I realized."

I cried harder at that, relief and sadness and a thousand other emotions that had been warring in my chest all day coming together to be processed as one. After a few moments, I felt Grant's shaky breathing and a few drops of wetness on the top of my head as he cried silently with me. Grief for a lot of things gripped us both, but at least we could cling to each other.

A few long minutes later, we finally pulled apart and helped each other to stand. We were both still shaking, and I did my best to stand between Grant and Garrett's body. It felt wrong to keep my back to Garrett, to let myself avoid facing what I'd done, but I just couldn't make myself do it.

Wordlessly, we wandered back up to the main level of the Bus. Raina still waited here somewhere, but we didn't see her, and we didn't seek her out as we headed for the cockpit. With a few looks, we both knew exactly what we wanted and needed to do. I held Grant's hand tight in my own as we had the Quinjet set down immediately, in the middle of a field in Oklahoma. Neither of us wanted to be on board a second longer.

We walked out of the cockpit and towards the ramp in the back, avoiding any of the cargo bay where so much had happened. We found Raina in the living room, but she didn't try to stop us. Hand in hand, Grant and I walked off the ramp and out into the field. A moment later, the plane took off again, continuing on its original course and leaving us behind.

Grant tugged me closer to him and wrapped an arm around me, and we leaned on each other as the plane disappeared into the sky. Both of us still shook a little, and we were each the only thing keeping the other standing. After a minute, once the plane completely disappeared from sight, Grant spoke in a quiet voice.

"So... what do we do now?"

"...I guess we just start walking."

I looked up at him and our eyes connected for a few moments, holding each other's stares and trying to promise the other that everything would be okay. With Garrett gone, now more than ever, there was nothing stopping us from leaving all the hurt and bad memories behind, and starting over somewhere new. With any luck, Raina would tell people we were dead along with John Garrett, and that would be the end of our involvement with SHIELD and Hydra.

For now, though, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the man standing beside me as we turned, our backs to the plane and its path, and started walking towards our new future, hand in hand and one foot in front of the other.

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