#Wrote another fanfic

[roeldraws]

Say Thank You

Julius frowned as he made his way deeper into the forest seething, how dare some lowly soldier inflict a wound on him? He sat down leaning against a tree, glaring at the line of blood dripping down his forearm. 

He knew that the healers back at the Aether Resort would refuse to treat him unless they too had lost their minds. They all feared him, as they should. He was the vessel of Loptous, after all. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice asking, “Julius? What are you doing here?” Julius looked up to see the owner of the voice, a young mage about his age with dark blue hair and eyes. 

“What do you want, Morgan?” Julius snapped, his voice laced with his usual coldness. 

Morgan’s cheerful smile didn’t falter, “I saw you leave by yourself after our last battle and got a little worried so I thought I’d follow you.”

Morgan’s gaze fell onto the wound on his arm, “That looks pretty bad, Julius,” he said with concern. “Let me help you.” Julius scoffed, “I don't need your help, Morgan.”

“Come on, let me help,” Morgan insisted.

“You really want to help me?” Julius asked with a glare, “do you even know what I am?”

“Of course I do, you’re my teammate.” Morgan grinned. Julius raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Morgan’s answer, he was not expecting that at all. He had never encountered anyone so… innocent. 

“How amusing,” Julius said with a smirk, he extended his arm to Morgan, “I suppose I’ll let you treat my arm.” 

Morgan beamed and started to help clean the wound with a damp cloth. His touch was gentle, his movements careful as he started wrapping up Julius’s arm. 

Julius couldn’t seem to look away from Morgan’s warm smile, a smile that didn’t look forced, a genuine smile. He’d seen this smile so many times from a distance at the Aether Resort, he never would have imagined that smile would be directed at him.

He wished to see that smile more often.

“All done!” Morgan beamed as he finished dressing the wound.

Julius stood up and turned to leave without a word, he didn’t get far when he heard Morgan calling after him, “W-wait!” Julius turned around to see Morgan looking a little hurt, he stammered shyly, “Y-you should say thank you when someone does something nice for you.” 

Julius lips tugged into a smirk as he approached Morgan his hand gently brushing under the boy’s chin, “very well.”

He gently lifted Morgan’s chin and leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead, earning a gasp of surprise from the boy, “thanks,” Julius whispered, his voice a mere breath on Morgan’s skin. He pulled away, his crimson eyes filled with an unexpected softness. 

Morgan's face burned bright red as he stammered, “Y-you're welcome, Julius.” As Julius walked away with a smirk on his face, Morgan couldn't help but feel his heart race. He had never expected the cold prince to show him such kindness. 

As Julius made his way out of the forest, a small blush creeped on his face. He couldn’t deny the feelings he had for Morgan, he wanted to see more of his kind smile, wanted to be by his side, to kill anyone who threatened to hurt him.

He wanted Morgan to be his and only his.

Julius had just arrived at the entrance of the Aether Resort when he was suddenly cornered by a masked swordsman.

“What did you just do to Morgan?” Marth demanded, his usual stoic voice replace with anger, his eyes hidden behind his butterfly mask. 

Julius smirked at the question, “I simply showed my appreciation for his help.”

Marth glared at him, his hand resting on the hilt of her sword, “You stay away from him, Julius. I won't let you hurt him.”

Julius chuckled, amused by Marth's concern for Morgan, “Don't worry, Marth. I have no intention of hurting Morgan. In fact, I think I’ve taken quite a liking to him.”

Marth took a step back, clearly taken aback by Julius's confession. “You can't be serious,” he stammered.

Julius leaned forward, their faces inches apart, his smirk never leaving his face. “I've never been more serious in my life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mage to invite to dinner.”

With that, Julius turned and walked away, leaving Marth standing there, his mind reeling from the unexpected revelation. 

[lunarmoves]

the words had slipped out of your mouth almost unconsciously.

they’d been festering in your mind for a while, you knew. bubbling and boiling until you felt akin to a tumultuous volcano. it was only inevitable that you’d eventually spew them out, you thought. you were just lucky it was after hours in the daycare, when it was just you and him. alone and with a finite amount of time at your fingertips.

“i beg your pardon?” sun said at the same time something cracked in his grip.

you glanced at his hand to see a broken crayon gripped in it. he didn’t let it go, his wide eyes latched onto your form from where he’d been cleaning up the drawing tables.

you swallowed thickly, a heat encompassing your neck and ears. you looked away, suddenly shy and— something else. “…never mind. forget i said anything.”

“no, friend.” he finally opened his hand to drop the broken crayon into the plastic box he was holding. then he set it down on a table and strode up to your lingering form to grip at your upper arms. something gleamed in the flickering iridescence of his optics. “what did you say?”

it was more difficult now than before with how he was acting. something squirmed in your gut, but you couldn’t avoid him and his persistence, you knew this. your eyes flicked off to the side and it felt like you had to force the words out again. “…i love you.”

there was a moment where he just stared blankly at you. then his eyes crinkled sharply and he started to laugh.

it wasn’t a kind thing—loud and harsh and echoing around the daycare in a way that made it all the more jarring. he laughed and laughed and laughed, breathless somehow and with a shrillness that hurt your eardrums. made you feel so utterly nauseous.

you could only stand there, confused and a bit hurt. he had let go of your arms in his laughter, folding them across his stomach like you’d just told him the funniest fucking joke in the world. you burned with embarrassment.

the abruptness with which he stopped laughing made you nearly flinch—cut off so suddenly like it was a recording. wiping a fake tear from his eye, sun leaned over your figure with his gaze trained on your face.

“no you don’t,” was his frigid reply. and it was so unexpected after all of… that that you snapped your gaze back up to his faceplate in confusion and a tinge of fiery offense.

“what?” you snapped out. you were bubbling and boiling—but not in the same way as before.

“you don’t love me,” he repeated with all the intent of a colossal glacier moving down a river. his white pupil gaze turned half-lidded.

you were irate and you knew it showed. “you can’t just—”

“oh but i can!” he interrupted cheerily, reaching out with a hand to boop your nose. the lighthearted action juxtaposed heavily against the fire licking at your heart.

you made an angry noise. “it’s my feelings and i’m telling you i—”

“my dear!” sun exclaimed loudly over your voice to smother it. “look at me!” he gestured down at himself—all yellow and red and bells and stripes and metal metal metal. his voice was weighed down by tons of concrete and it felt like a stab to your chest. “you don’t love me. you don’t love this.”

then he gripped onto your arms once more, face strained in a wide smile bordering on manic desperation. you felt all the simmering rage dissipate in a snap—leaving you so utterly cold.

and when he spoke, it was like his words were held together only by a tight, fraying thread. “you can’t.”

[taruruchi]

Random heartshackle, adeuce and yuu, thingy I came up with over a week ago, here u go !!

Sorries if they don't type how they seem like they would, I'm so bad at coming up w stuff like that 😭

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Please.”

Stiles stands there, chewing on his pretty crimson lips, pleading.

Derek isn't fully clued in yet, but honestly, the kid is kind of vaguely breaking his heart.

“Please, Derek, I'm really sorry about this, but please just—just don't say anything, okay? And just—let me?”

Stiles had texted Derek earlier, at 3.17am, presumably just before he’d set off from his house to drive his jeep to the loft.

Derek had been lying awake in bed, unable to sleep.

His messages had read:

> dude, i rlly need to come over. that ok?

And:

> ill let myself in if thats cool?

And after a few moments, in quick succession one after the other and before Derek had a chance to respond:

> and i rlly need u to just like. not get out of bed. presuming yr already in bed

> all shall be revealed

> lol i don't know why i put that

> and obvs tell me if any of this is not ok. ok?

> as if you wouldn't lol

> #sourwolf

> and yeah i know im being a weirdo but thats why you like me

And then, a few seconds later:

> right?

Derek had stared at the flurry of messages for a minute or so, then texted back:

Okay, weirdo <

About ten minutes later, Stiles had let himself into the building. Derek listened to the kid muttering away to himself as he rode the old service elevator—except it wasn't really himself he was talking to.

“God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Like, I think we're close enough now for it not to be weird. I mean, at least I hope we are. I'm just so fucking tired, man, and have got to get me some sleep. Anyways, just—don't get up, okay? Or, like, can you get into bed if you're not already in bed? Sorry, I know I texted you this already, I just really need you to trust me. You do know you can trust me… Right, big guy?”

Derek's trust of Stiles was implicit.

When the steel door had unlocked and slid open, Derek smelled fresh, mostly unscented shower gel over the base notes of Stiles's own cinnamon scent, mixed with the very definite chemo-signals that indicated fear, restlessness, apprehension—and also, the strongest of them all; hope.

Let me.

Here, now, Derek still doesn't know what the kid needs.

Let him what?

Derek doesn't have any more time to wonder, though, because Stiles is taking off his sneakers and pants and is slowly, very slowly—as if giving Derek the chance to protest—climbing into bed next to him.

Stiles is now in Derek's loft in the small hours, in Derek's bed, fully under Derek's covers, with Derek wearing only his grey tank and black boxer-briefs and a probably terrified look on his face.

He silently thanks the universe for the cover of night.

“Like, you should obviously say something if this is completely heinous or whatever, but otherwise just—let me do this?”

And all Derek can think is shit, he's freezing, at the same time he is going into a some sort of dumbstruck shock because Stiles is now wrapping his entire sinewy, beautiful body around the entirety of Derek's.

“This okay?” Stiles asks, the air around them spiking with the smell of his anxiety as he Big-Spoons Derek like some human-shaped octopus, skinny but strong limbs astonishingly everywhere.

And he sounds so unsure, and so small, and Derek can't bear it.

Not giving the stoic part of his brain any opportunity to talk him out of doing this, Derek takes ahold of Stiles's wrist from where the kid had draped one of his long arms around Derek's midriff, and hangs on as firmly but gently as he can, manoeuvring them both around in the bed so that Stiles is now the Little Spoon.

“This okay?” he asks gingerly, mirroring Stiles because his own words are failing him.

Stiles says, “Yeah. Even better,” and his anxiety is melting away into something much more pleasing; something like relief.

Derek breathes out the word, “Good,” and feels a little dizzy and a lot amazed, and kind of like his heart is beating wildly in his throat.

The only reason he knows it isn't, is because Stiles says, “I can feel your heart thumping away in your chest, man. But, uh, I don't have wolfy senses, so… I can't tell if it's good thumping or bad thumping.”

Then he promptly stops breathing.

Derek resists the desperate, learnt urge to run away from this. He mentally shakes himself and figures: After so many years fighting monsters together, maybe he and Stiles can fight this one together, too?

He gives himself a moment to ride out the panic, then screws his eyes shut and, praying to nobody in particular, whispers, “Good thumping,” into the shell of Stiles's ear.

Stiles shivers and breathes again, but doesn't say anything else. For once, he doesn't need to. He just needs to sleep.

As the kid settles into Derek's bed and Derek's embrace and, hopefully, Derek's life, he smells like a mix of serene and content and promise—and also, wonderfully, of Derek, now.

Derek is a strange combination of relaxed and freaking-the-fuck-out because that's just the way he's made. His brain won't stop whirring at a speed of a million miles an hour, worrying about everything and nothing, all at once, and before he can bite into his lip to stop himself, he blurts out, “Cora says I sometimes dream-talk about Cajun Gumbo recipes.”

Stiles's only sighs, then hums quietly, his breathing already evening out almost to the point of sleep.

Just when Derek thinks he's not going to get any sort of real answer, Stiles mumbles, “Okay, weirdo,” on an exhale, and then he's drifting off into unconsciousness.

Derek settles then, and smiles into the nighttime thinking that maybe, finally, he might get a good night's sleep, too.

.

for @shealynn88, the bestest of friends. i love you and miss you always... <3 (unedited btw—forgive me!)

[kjdkive]

couple questions with vogue — jjk.

summary: yn, world-famous model and jungkook world-famous artist are invited as a couple to answer some questions for vogue on a video. both known to be a chaotic couple are expected to show their competitive side.

pairing: idol! jungkook and model! yn (afab)

warnings: cursing, some dirty jokes? jungkook being the best boyfriend ever i want him so bad, third person narration

a/n: thinking about doing this for some other bts members but not really sure lol let's see how this one goes and go from there. also i used to be a wattpad writer and there we use — not " and i actually hate writing dialogues with " oh and also i mention a few things that are not true about jungkook but this is my universe and in this universe that happened yn happened

— hello, vogue! i’m yn and it’s so nice to be back here — yn says to the camera. 

— hello, i’m yn’s boyfriend, jungkook — jungkook says, smiling to the camera — i am also in a band but not that that matters. 

— i’m your fianceé, babe, remember? — yn lifts her left hand to show her engagement ring.

— she’s my soon-to-be wife, guys — jungkook giggles and stands up from his seat a little to give her a short kiss on her cheek.

— okay, my boyfriend’s humble as you can see but we’ll see if he’s a good boyfriend/fiancé because we’re gonna do the couple questions challenge! — an assistant hands her some cards with the questions on them — are you nervous, babe? 

— not at all, i actually think i’m gonna crush you — jungkook responds. 

— confident much? — yn asks. 

— dude, come on, let’s go, i’m ready. 

video cuts abruptly to the intro, showing a few pictures of the couple and jungkook’s seven playing in the back. 

question no.1 for jungkook: how did you first meet? 

— it was at a party in L.A. — jungkook replies — june 28th, 2017. she was wearing a black dress and her favorite manolo heels because she told me that the same night, also her purse from a special chanel collection because she told me it gave her luck. 

— it definitely did, baby — yn couldn’t stop smiling — it made me met you, so bless the chanel bag. so, answer’s correct! 

— ever since that night i fell in love and my band members were sick of me talking about her. 

— just want to say that it took him two months to ask me on a date — yn laughs — like i literally said no to a few guys in those two months because i was waiting for him to ask me out and when he did i just told him “finally, bro.” 

— you guys don’t understand, she was and still is too pretty for me — jungkook whined, making yn laugh — i thought she was gonna say no and also tell me that she doesn’t date ugly guys? 

— weren’t you literally like on the top 5 of the hottest guys of the world? — yn asks him and he stops. 

— i think i was? i don’t remember. 

— of course you don’t, darling. next question. 

jungkook: 1 

yn: 0

question no.2 for yn: who initiated the first kiss? 

— oh! oh! this one’s good — yn says — i did! and it was a mess.

— no, you didn’t — jungkook tells her. 

— oh, yes, i did because you were shaking when you grabbed my face and you literally froze so i was like “well, let ME do this” and then i was the one to grab your face and kiss you — yn points at him. 

— okay, fine, i did froze but you tasted like fish — jungkook starts — and although i love fish, tasting it from someone else’s mouth isn’t that delicious. 

— you had just taken me out to eat sushi! what were you expecting? — yn asks him — besides, you tasted like banana because you had to eat your banana dessert of course. 

— guys, if you ever go out on a date and you think you’re gonna kiss — jungkook looks at the camera — do not take them to eat fish or pasta because else they’ll get pesto on their teeth or their breath will smell like fish. 

— oh, right — yn laughs  — in one of our dates you got pesto on your teeth. 

— stop, i don’t wanna remember how you had to get me a tooth pick cause i couldn’t get it out — jungkook rolls his eyes and yn keeps on laughing at him — if your girl gets you a tooth pick, marry her, that’s what i’m gonna do in a few months — he winks at the camera and laughs at yn blushing. 

jungkook: 1

yn: 1

question no.3: which songs did jungkook write about yn? 

— now this is a good one because you always get confused — jungkook laughs — which songs did i write about you? 

— still with you, dimple, love maze, home, seven the explicit and clean version — yn winks at the camera. 

— babe! — jungkook blushes and giggles.

— oh, so you can be no.1 on billboard, mind you the explicit version but your girlfriend can’t talk about it? 

— don’t get off topic, finish the list — jungkook laughs again — and you’re my fiancée, not girlfriend. 

— okay, fine — yn moves on her seat — your part in my universe, dna, paradise, best of me, my you and that’s it. 

— WRONG! — jungkook yells at her and stands up from his seat to jump and laugh at her — you’re a loser! 

— jungkook, what? i got them all correct! shut up! 

— you forgot the one i have performed the most! — jungkook stands in front of the camera — vogue subscribers, my wife doesn’t love me. 

— oh my god! — yn yells — i forgot euphoria and jesus christ, jungkook, sit down now, stop being dramatic. 

— how dare you forget the amazing and unforgettable euphoria? 

— i’m sorry, my love, please forgive me for i have made an awful mistake — yn holds his hand. 

— i shall forgive you. 

— thank you, my king. 

— i love you — jungkook kisses her hand and doesn’t let go of it — but i’ll never forget this. 

jungkook: 1

yn: 1 

question no.4: what are the top 3 celeb crushes of yn? 

— this one’s so easy — jungkook says — it’s matthew mcconaughey, chris evans and bradley cooper but as his character in the hangover. 

— wrong — yn laughs. 

— yn, you know i’m not wrong, those are your top 3. 

— babe, you’re a celebrity too, you’re my no.1. 

— don’t lie, yn, i’m not your celeb crush. 

— yup, you’re right — yn gives up — he got the answer right, whatever, next question. 

jungkook: 2

yn: 1

question no.5: when jungkook first started as an artist, what did he do to calm his nerves when he performed? 

— I PRAYED — jungkook yells before yn can say her answer — I PRAYED AND I PRAYED. 

— he didn’t — yn looks at the camera with a serious expression. 

— YES, I DID — jungkook sits back on his seat — I DID. i did. 

— can you shut up now? — yn asks him — he used to- — yn gets cut off. 

— PRAY. HE USED TO PRAY. — jungkook yells again and all yn does is stand up from her seat and put her hand on jungkook’s mouth. 

— he’s licking my hand right now but i couldn’t care less — yn still had a serious expression — he used to touch his bandmates’ butts and when they would question him he’d say “nothing better than your butts, you guys!” 

— she’s wrong — jungkook says. 

— jungkook, ew, you left my hand freaking wet — yn wipes her hand on jungkook’s shirt — and yes, i’m right, you can call up jimin and he’ll tell you i’m right. 

jungkook: 2 

yn: 2 

question no.6: yn has a scar and has had a broken arm, how did both happen? 

— on her chin — jungkook replies fastly. yn nods and lifts her head to show up her chin. — that’s like the only one from an ugly accident the other ones are just her being silly cause she has some scars, blame of our cats when she tries to shower them and another one from when she was trying to make some chicken nuggets on the air fryer last month and she burned herself.

— he’s correct. 

— the broken arm… she told me she was playing outside when she was in kindergarten and she fell and broke her arm, she also told me the school didn’t call her parents right away and waited until her grandma picked her up from school but she took her to the hospital right away. sadly, they didn’t sue the school because they’re good people, the teachers weren’t. 

— that story is also correct. 

— ugh, so tiring being the best boyfriend/future husband out there — jungkook sighs. 

jungkook: 3

yn: 2 

question no.7: how many tattoos does jungkook have? which one was for yn? 

— jesus christ — yn says — i kid you not, jungkook doesn’t even know how many he has himself. 

— i don’t know the total number but i do have a close number, if she reaches it she’ll get the answer right. 

— fine, uhm, the eye he had before was my eye but i told him to cover it because it was done really bad like the eyelashes and the color were a mess but there are other ones about me, the thunderbolts and the flower on your elbow, right? 

— yes — he nods with a smile. 

— and i think, you have a total of 21? 22? with the new seven tattoo behind your ear i think so, yeah. 

— she’s not close in the number but she’s right about the tattoos about her — he smiles at her. 

jungkook: 3

yn: 3 

question no.8: what are yn’s favorite hobbies? 

— reading, learning languages and trying out new restaurants everywhere she goes. 

— that is correct. 

— she’s currently reading beach read but her favorite book is the portrait of dorian gray because my girl is into classics but they have to be a little gay; she speaks 4 languages those being english, italian, korean of course and french. the latest new restaurant she went was momofuko ko here in new york and she loved it.  

— i love you — yn couldn’t stop smiling as she got close to jungkook to give him a little kiss.

— i love you more — he said, after kissing her back. 

jungkook: 4 

yn: 3 

question no. 9: what is jungkook’s pet peeve? 

— damn, he has a lot — yn laughs — but i can name a few. 

— i don’t have a lot! 

— oh yeah? — yn asks and then turns at the camera — jungkook can’t eat if he notices people being loud while chewing but he is the loudest chew-er ever, he gets mad if whoever is driving doesn’t know how to park and oh! he despises when people walk slow but he had to be patient with me because i am a slow walker. 

— she’s really slow but since i love her i can be patient with her. 

— thank you, means a lot. 

jungkook: 4

yn: 4 

question no.10 (final question, decides the winner): if yn hadn’t been a model, what would’ve she been? 

— oh, my girl’s born to shine — jungkook holds her hand — because she wanted to be a UN ambassador when she was young because she loved learning languages. 

— oh my god, i did! — yn intertwines her fingers with jungkook’s — but i don’t even remember telling him about this. 

— you said that on an interview but you also said that to me when we were on one of our first dates — he smiles at her. 

— i did? 

— you said you saw it on tv — jungkook nods — and that you wanted to travel the world like them. but now you travel around the world as a model, either way you were gonna be successful. 

— reached full success now that i’m marrying you. — yn kisses him — i guess you won. 

the interviewer behind the camera asked them if they wanted to say anything else before finishing the video.

— my soon-to-be husband has released a song called seven, not that it needs promotion because the song's killing it but if you haven't listened to it you should, the song saves lives.

— yeah, i released a song, i wrote it and it was just for her — jungkook smiles — my girl is also releasing her own clothing line so make sure to check that out too — jungkook points at the camera — and before we finish i want to say i won, yn lost — jungkook looks at the camera with a serious expression — vogue subscribers, i am here to tell you again that yn is a loser and i will write on my wedding vows to always call her a loser until death do us apart. 

yn hits him on his arm and jungkook giggles.

— i hate you, jungkook. 

— i love you too, my sweetie cutie pie, come here.

jungkook brings her in for another kiss.

— thank you, vogue! see you next time — jungkook says while squishing yn's cheek with his own cheek.

— save me — yn mouths.

and the video finishes.

[stars-obsession-pit]

The Fenton parents + the heroes vs the GIW

Danny has been captured by the Ghost Investigation Ward, and his parents are on a warpath to get him back (this could be some time after a past reveal-gone-right or Danny’s ghost form could have been revealed just now with them stepping up to support him).

Unfortunately, the GIW aren’t pushovers. Sure, their agents poking around in Amity Park weren’t the most competent, but the organization as a whole is a lot more powerful.

Powerful enough that despite their best efforts, Jack and Maddie know they won’t be enough on their own (even with the help of Danny’s friends). They can raid the local bases, but the more fortified ones pose a far greater challenge.

Thus, they need to get external help. And, well, what are superheroes for if not saving people?

The GIW may be a government agency (at least in theory - could have it revealed that their evils were very much unsanctioned and hidden from the official side of things), but heroes have fought for getting legal rights for Metas before. All they have to do us convince them to extend that to include Ghost rights too.

So the Fentons contact the Batman / the Justice League / (your heroes of choice) to enlist their aid.

(If it’s the batfam, maybe there’s an additional connection of Danny being friends with one of Bruce’s kids online. This serves double duty by giving the Fentons a reason to reach out to Batman (the endorsement of Danny’s friend from Gotham) and getting another person who is personally connected to Danny and worried about his safety. Or for some bonding-in-captivity stuff, maybe it’s Jason and he was captured too…)

Now with allies, the raids can begin. They just have to hope they’re not too late to save Danny before he is killed for real…

[masn-mount]

I know we're all melting at Jude with the kids but what about him melting about you with the kids!!! being like I want you to have my babies and you're like??? where did that come from

this is just a little blurb, I hope you enjoy xx (this is rushed and not proofread because I need to sleep and if I don't post it right now I'll just delete it soooo also haven't written in months so yeah, bye)

okay yes, like he would be standing around with his mum and teammates trying to focus on the conversation they were having but he couldn't tear his eyes away from you running around after Lucas Vazques' kids, making them laugh uncontrollably when you caught them or the way you'd help Dani Carvajal's son hold up the trophy, making him smile so big for thinking he was lifting it by himself and as if he wasn't feeling overwhelmed already he swore his heart could have burst when you later went over to him to say bye with one of his teammates not even one year old clutching on to you. Small arms around your neck, her little head resting against your shoulder and you just looked so natural with it and it drives him a little mental and after he's kissed you and you leave he can't get that image out of his head even with the amount of drinks in his system by then. When he gets home hours later he's trying to make as little noise as possible, not wanting to wake you or anyone else in the house up and he's not expecting to walk into your shared bedroom and see you sitting up in bed, phone in hand no doubt scrolling on Tiktok. "You're going to feel beyond terrible tomorrow," is what you say when he falls on the bed, he lays still for a second before he starts moving around so he can lay closer to you, head resting on your stomach. Your fingers go to scratch the back of his head and after a few moments of complete silence you almost think he's fallen asleep until he lifts his head so he can look up at you, eyes so pretty and glossy and you smile at him before running your thumb over his pouted lip. "You okay?"

"I want you, want you to," he kept mumbling the words over and over, you found it a little amusing how he had gone from this overly confident man you had seen all over your X and Tiktok feed hours prior to this shy boy laying next to you.

"Want me to what?"

"Have babies with me." You were unsure on how to respond, it was probably the last thing you'd expect him to say so you just sat back, raised your eyebrows at him, a giggle escaping past your lips at how he was nodding his head while repeatedly mumbling "yes, I want that".

"You do, yeah?"

"So bad."

"Okay, how about we go sleep?"

"No, I've jus-, just keep thinking about you with the kids today and I, I want us to have that," he sounded so sure you could have almost forgotten that he was drunk out of his mind.

"I thought you didn't want kids?" You teased, fingers running over his cheeks, still trying to get used to his completely bare face. Your future together was often a topic of discussion but kids had never been apart of the conversation until this moment and you weren't going to pretend like seeing him be so good with all of his teammates kids hadn't sent your mind in a frenzy.

"I never said I didn't want them with you."

"Okay."

"Yeah? we should try...right now."

"Okay, calm down, silly." You tried to keep your voice down but couldn't hold in your laughter over how fast he was trying to get undressed before laying over you, lips moving over your chest and up your neck. "Hey, don't laugh...trying to love on you, baby," but when you didn't stop, instead hiding your face away from him and in your pillow, unable to take him seriously Jude got the hind and laid back down, content for the moment with just holding your hand.. "I love you...mucho."

"I love you mucho too, Jude," you smiled, leaning up and capturing his lips with yours for a moment before pulling back.

"I get to come home to you, so lucky..so lucky you're going to be the mum to my babies."

"Go to sleep, handsome."

"We'll try tomorrow."

[pinkerthings]

just saw moot say that what if mike and will are trapped in a closet together in s5 and one of them has to cover the other one’s mouth bc they’re scared and making noises, & now i CANT STOP PICTURING this scene like omg I can SOOOO picture mike freaking out bc he arguably has less experience with the upside down creatures/demogorgons and such so he would probably be more scared than will, so will would have to be the one to whisper like “shut up!” and cover Mike’s mouth with his hand, and then they’d both wait for the monster to pass before breathing a sigh of relief. and then the TENSIONNNNNN afterwards would be so crazy and Mike would be like, “um, sorry” and will would be like “it’s okay” and then imagine mike starts bringing up the painting or something and then someone opens the door and is like 🤨 what r u two doing in here, and then they both blush & fanfics will come true and lives will be changed

[forgetyoursingalongsandlullabies]

I’m thinking about the TMA S4 Q&A where Alex asks Jonny “Who knew that Jon liked Martin first, Jon or Martin?” And Jonny answers “Georgie”. I’ve already made my statement on Georgie knowing Jon had feelings for Martin before Jon did. My current thought is that this particular question was one that Alex himself asked Jonny, it wasn’t one of the Q&A questions asked by the audience which means to Alex’s mind there is a world in which Martin knew Jon had feelings for him before Jon even knew. And to be honest that would make so much sense as to why Martin put up with Jon’s shitty behavior towards him for so long and stayed so loyal to him. Like yeah the man definitely has a humiliation/degradation kink or something but also maybe he knew there was something there and just knew he needed to nurture it.

I’m on record saying Jon developed feelings for Martin in season 2 but I also think it is possible that Jon thought Martin was at least very cute upon first laying eyes on him. I think in season 1 Jon tries very hard to be a professional and masked his uncertainty and fear with arrogance and condescension. Ordinarily Jon would think it is unprofessional to talk shit about his assistant on tape even if he doesn’t like him, except that Jon is actively working to not like Martin and the best way to convince yourself of something is to keep saying it out loud. On Martin’s first day in the archives Jon saw this sweet man chasing a dog and first thought ‘Oh no he’s an idiot and I have to be his boss’ but he also thought ‘Oh no he’s cute and I have to be his boss’ so he takes that initial disapproval and dials it up to 10 and just rolls with it to mask and dilute the moment when he thought Martin was a cutie patootie and try to never have that thought again. But we all know that Martin is a lot more perceptive than he lets on and is also a manipulative son of a bitch. Jon is not an amazing liar and maybe Martin saw some part of Jon protesting a little much and thought oh yeah this guy is into me and Martin developed his mild S1 crush. By the time Martin had his first encounter with Jane Prentiss he had let go of the inkling that Jon might like him too and thought Jon actually does hate him but when Jon offers to let Martin stay in the archives to protect him Martin is just kind of like Oh it’s on. So going forward from the moment Jon has Martin move into the archives Martin is flirtier and bolder with Jon.

Through season 2 when Jon is obviously going crazy with paranoia Martin just pushes himself in closer to Jon. First of all he gifts the man the ashes of his enemy as if that’s normal! But also Martin brings Jon tea and hovers around him during lunch and talks to him casually and kindly when nobody else does and makes it Jon’s idea to go to lunch with him even though Jon is supposed to be suspicious of him. He nurtures Jon the way someone would a rescue cat, being kind through the hissing and scratching until you get slow blinks from them and they nervously make sure you’re sitting there to guard them while they eat.

By season 3 when Daisy is interrogating Martin she tells him that everyone she’s spoken to tells her that Jon and Martin are close. Just how did that happen to the extent that any given person at the institute who is asked would say so, at a time when for all intents and purposes Jon was actually pushing away everyone else who knew him? Martin was working hard and he knew what he was doing and he also knew it wasn’t a lost cause. To digress just a moment, when my mom was first dating my stepdad (whom she has now been happily married to for 20 years) he was being kind of noncommittal and on-again-off-again but she would say to me all the time “He loves me he just doesn’t know it yet.” And me being 7 I thought she was crazy but she was right! And honestly in this theoretical world this is exactly how Martin approached things.

All of seasons 3 and 4 for Martin were simple acts of faith, love and loyalty. That charged conversation in MAG 102 that I am OBSESSED with gains quite a lot with the added subtext that Martin has known Jon has feelings for him for a while and now Jon is also starting to realize it too and maybe Martin knows Jon knows! In season 4 when Martin is pushing Jon away with a stick it makes so much sense that he knows Jon has feelings for him because he knows that he has to work hard to keep Jon away. If he thought it was just about Jon wanting information from him he might have approached things differently but he actually took steps to make sure Jon was getting information from him by leaving Jon tapes. He just knew that Jon would pull him too far away from The Lonely which he was now committed to. Like, if your sort of ex-boss sort of friend wants to talk to you sometimes I don’t think that’s going to stop anyone from being lonely but Martin for sure knew by S4 that if he let Jon in, The Lonely plot would be done for. Not only would Peter’s plans be shot because Martin would commit himself to being with Jon and Jon would fully reciprocate but also Peter would definitely take it out on Jon. When Jon pulled Martin from The Lonely I don’t think it would have been enough for Jon to love Martin and also for Martin to love Jon, I think Martin had to know that Jon loved him. So when Martin said that Jon didn’t need him he probably did believe that but he also knew that Jon loves him already so being able to really See Jon just reminded him of what he already knew.

I love this possibility and in fact I now fully do believe that Martin knew Jon loved him back by S4.

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Hot Neighbor and the Sunshine Baby

by ZenaidaMacroura

Summary:

Five Times Steve and his daughter accidentally terrorized Bucky and his daughter, and then some times they managed to keep it together. A cutesy meet-ugly slowburn slice of life AU kidfic. May include: General childhood mess. Brief references to the less pleasant side effects associated with the proximity of children, including diapers, throwing up, and the indignities of gestating. No graphic childbirth or pregnancy (sorry if you're into that).

Thanks to @booksandabeer and TenMileStilts for beta/emotional counseling.

[f1-giuki]

First Impressions

Miss Charles Leclerc, the daughter of a country gentleman, meets Mr Verstappen, a rich gentleman who owns land, at a ball in a nearby town.

At first, Charles is resolved to hate him, thinking him proud and full of prejudices against the people of her rank, but, as her life erupts in is various turmoils, her feelings start to change.

READ HERE!!!!!

and thank you sweet amazing darling Nyx ( @breathofnyx @girlcharles-ficfest ) for organising this amazing and wonderful fest💖💖💖💖 it was the best ever!!!!💖

[lucky-clover-gazette]

more volo in botw/totk hyrule. back on his bullshit :)

[hedwig221b]

Breathing heavily, Derek turned around and marched out of the room, trying to rein in his wolf. He knew he lost control over his appearance: the skin on his face tickled with growing fur, sharp points of deadly fangs dug into his lower lip.

Derek had to see him. Right now, to make sure none of them got to him, to see for himself that Stiles was safe and whole. That the boy was his, still.

Not a day has gone without him dreaming of Stiles. He was a constant presence in the wolf’s mind, driving him insane with want and longing.

No, Derek would never leave him, never give him over to another’s dirty hands. He’ll fight for the boy till death. Tear apart anyone who had the misfortune of touching him.

The door opened after three loud thuds. Derek didn’t have any space for guilt in his heart at waking the undoubtedly tired Stiles up, all of it taken by irresistible want.

Stiles’ eyes were wide open in surprise and just a tiny bit of wariness. His hands were clutching the soft white nightgown, keeping it closed over his naked chest. Derek’s gleaming red eyes followed the tantalizing length of his neck, stopping at the sight of his bare collarbones, peeking out of the gown. A pink sleepy blush adorned his cheeks, cupping his soft half-opened lips.

They ought to have the sweetest taste.

Both of them stared at each other in silence. Stiles was probably too shocked that Derek approached him again at such a late hour, nonetheless; Derek, however, lost any train of thought upon seeing this exquisite being, so teasing in his innocent softness and naïve trust. Anger left him all at once, leaving him breathless at the sight of the angel.

“Don’t open the door so readily,” Derek’s mutter was akin to a rumble. “You’re too beautiful for that.”

Stiles’ breath hitched and his heart started its quick rabbit pace again. He frowned a bit as if Derek’s compliment somehow offended him; he probably didn’t even realize his lips formed into the cutest pout. The most delicious prey was in front of Derek, and he couldn’t even have a taste. Not yet.

He wanted to kiss the tips of Stiles’ long fingers, bite into the soft insides of his thighs, leave marks all over his neck and trace the helpful path of his moles leading to his devastating lips to kiss and claim and take.

But Derek couldn’t do that for fear of spooking him. It was too early. But how could he possibly leave him right now?

Derek gently took Stiles’ slack hand, his heart stuttering at the sight of it, small in comparison to his wolf’s one. Miraculously, Stiles didn’t pull away. Derek lifted his soft hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then on the inside of his wrist, before inhaling.

The bright red of his eyes reflected in Stiles’ soft brown ones. The blush on Stiles’ pretty face deepened and traveled down, calling to Derek’s predatory instincts to follow, to lick and bite.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. The wolf in him howled at the sharp scent of arousal emanating from his body. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

“Lock the door,” he said, forcing himself to step away. “Don’t open until the sun rises.”

Once again, Stiles said nothing. He blinked as if coming out of a stupor, then gave a tiny nod, before slowly closing the door, casting inquisitive glances at Derek. The door shut with a soft thud; a heavy lock slid into place with an unpleasant scrape.

Derek leaned towards the door, knowing that Stiles was probably leaning on it to eavesdrop. Curious kitten.

“Good boy,” he murmured and laughed soundlessly at the shy squeak on the other side, followed by hastily retreating footfalls.

The smile felt unfamiliar on Derek’s ferine face, and he lost it quite quickly. This precious boy made it so easy to feel joy again, almost uncomfortably so.

If only Stiles chose to never leave his side, the wolf would bring him the freedom he craved. It will be his final courting gift. Stiles had no idea what he got himself into by allowing Derek’s name to fall from his lips that fateful day a year ago. He would soon learn the true power of being under the wolf’s protection and possession.

He’ll never have to fear and pretend ever again. His sweet boy. His Stiles.

Read the whole story on ao3

[cod-thoughts]

Day 22 of 31 days of COD

Words: 2k

Relationships: Team as family

Tags: 3+1, some hurt but mostly comfort.

Ghost stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Soap had his own bloody room. Why in hell was he here, in Ghost’s bed, of all places? OR Three times Ghost found someone from the team in his bed and the one time he found them all there. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

Simon "Ghost" Riley had always preferred working alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his team—Soap, Gaz, and Price were the best of the best—but there was a clarity that came with solitude. No distractions. No banter. Just the mission. His mask had become more than just armour; it was a barrier between him and everything else. It was easier that way.

Tonight was no different. The task was a simple extraction in the dead of night—in and out, no complications. Ghost moved through the facility like a shadow, his presence only marked by the silence that followed in his wake. He was efficient, methodical, and above all, unfeeling. The op went smoother than expected, and within hours, Ghost was on his way back to base, already pushing the mission from his mind.

The safehouse was quiet as Ghost returned, the familiar weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. He had done this so many times before—returning silently from another successful mission. He never expected anything to change. But as he pushed open the door to his room, something had changed.

Lying in the centre of his bed, sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world, was John Mactavish. One arm was hanging over the edge, his face half-buried in Ghost's pillow, his breathing slow and deep. He was fast asleep.

Ghost stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Soap had his own bloody room. Why in hell was he here, in Ghost’s bed, of all places?

For a moment, Ghost considered waking him up. A sharp nudge and a few choice words, and Soap would stumble back to his own bed with a cheeky comment about Ghost being too soft. But as Ghost stood there, something stopped him. Soap looked… peaceful. More at ease than Ghost had seen him in a long time. 

With a quiet sigh, Ghost closed the door and moved to the far side of the room. He grabbed a spare blanket and tossed it onto the floor, settling down without a word. The mattress would’ve been better, but he wasn’t about to climb into bed with Soap there. No way.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. As Ghost lay down, he found his mind lingering on the oddness of the situation. Soap must’ve been knackered to crash here, but something about it didn’t sit right. Soap wasn’t careless—not like this. 

Ghost pushed the thought aside, too tired to dwell on it. Tomorrow, he'd confront Soap, maybe take the piss out of him for mistaking Ghost’s room for his own. But for now, the steady sound of Soap’s breathing lulled Ghost to sleep.

The next morning, Ghost woke to a crick in his neck from the hard floor. Soap was already gone, the bed neatly made, leaving no sign he’d been there at all, save for the faint indentation on the pillow. Ghost found himself staring at the bed, wondering if he’d imagined it all.

He never mentioned it. Not yet. It was probably nothing. Just a one-off thing.

But as Ghost moved through the day’s briefings, the image of Soap asleep in his bed stayed with him. It gnawed at the edges of his mind, a quiet reminder that maybe something was shifting. Maybe it was Soap. Maybe it was Ghost. Maybe it was the whole team itself.

Ghost had been on countless solo missions, but after the last one, something was different. Soap’s presence in his bed had left a lingering unease Ghost couldn’t quite explain. He hadn’t mentioned it, nor had Soap. Ghost assumed it was a one-off, but part of him wondered if it might happen again.

This mission was tougher, the stakes higher. Ghost was sent deep into enemy territory, operating alone for days on end. The isolation didn’t bother him—it was how he worked best—but as he moved through the op, his thoughts drifted back to the team more than he was used to. The memory of Soap asleep in his bed stuck with him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

When the mission finally ended, Ghost returned to base long after midnight, exhaustion pulling at him. As he entered the safehouse, he expected to slip back into his usual solitude. But when he opened the door to his room, he froze once more.

Gaz was in his bed.

Ghost stared, his breath stalling for a moment as he took in the sight. Gaz was lying on his side, tucked neatly beneath the covers, his arm resting on Ghost’s pillow. He looked far more composed than Soap had been, his breathing slow and steady, as if he’d been waiting for Ghost to return.

“What the hell…” Ghost muttered under his breath.

It wasn’t like Gaz to make such a mistake. He was meticulous, careful. Ghost considered waking him, his hand halfway raised, but then he stopped. This didn’t feel like a mistake. This felt… deliberate.

Ghost’s hand dropped to his side as he stood there, trying to make sense of it. Twice now. Twice, he had returned from a mission to find someone in his bed. It couldn’t be coincidence. 

With a soft sigh, Ghost grabbed the spare blanket once again and settled onto the floor. The hard surface wasn’t any more comfortable than it had been before, but as Ghost lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of Gaz’s breathing, he found himself more at ease than he had been in days.

The next morning, Gaz was gone before Ghost woke, leaving the bed as neatly made as Soap had. But this time, Ghost didn’t dismiss it so easily. Twice was a pattern. Something was happening here, something unspoken.

And as much as Ghost tried to ignore it, a part of him—the part that usually stayed buried beneath his mask—began to wonder what it meant.

The third mission was different. This time, Ghost was sent deep behind enemy lines with no comms, no contact, and no backup. The op stretched longer than anticipated—weeks passed with no word from Ghost, and the silence weighed heavily on the team.

By the time Ghost finally returned, he was battered and bone-tired. The mission had been brutal, pushing him to his limits. His body ached from weeks of strain, and his mind was frayed from the constant tension. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he returned to base, but he wasn’t prepared for what he found when he opened his door.

Price was there.

The captain was sitting on the edge of Ghost’s bed, his hat tipped low over his eyes, his posture tense but relaxed enough to show he had been waiting. He didn’t look up when Ghost entered, but his voice cut through the silence.

“Long time, Simon.”

Ghost didn’t respond right away. He was too tired to speak, his body heavy with exhaustion. He crossed the room and sat down beside Price, the familiar weight of the captain’s presence grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

“You were gone too long,” Price muttered, his voice softer now. “Had us worried.”

Ghost’s chest tightened at the words. He hadn’t thought about the team while he was out there—he couldn’t afford to—but hearing Price admit that they had been worried stirred something deep inside him.

Without saying anything, Ghost leaned back against the headboard, letting his eyes drift closed. Price didn’t move at first, but after a moment, he shifted, pulling his hat lower as if to settle in for the night.

For a long time, they sat in silence, the weight of the mission slowly slipping away. Price didn’t need to say anything more—his presence was enough. He was there, just like Soap and Gaz had been before him, and Ghost couldn’t deny the quiet comfort that brought.

The unspoken message was clear: they had his back, even when he was alone out there. They cared.

And for the first time in a long time, Ghost let himself lean into that.

This last mission nearly killed Ghost.

The op had been one of the most dangerous he’d ever faced, even for Ghost, it had gone wrong in every way possible. A brutal firefight had broken out, and Ghost had fought harder than ever to get out alive. His shoulder throbbed where an old bullet wound had reopened, and the exhaustion pulled at him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

By the time Ghost made it back to base, he was barely holding himself together. His body ached from days of strain, and his mind was clouded with the memory of how close he had come to not making it back.

When he opened the door to his room, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks.

All three of them were there.

His entire team.

They were all crammed into his small bed, somehow managing to fit together, though it was a wonder they hadn’t all fallen off. Soap was sprawled across the foot of the bed, one leg dangling off the side, snoring softly. Gaz was curled up on the left, his arm draped over Ghost’s pillow. Price was propped up near the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest, his hat tipped low over his eyes.

Ghost blinked, staring at them in stunned silence. He hadn’t expected this. Not all of them. But there they were, waiting for him, fast asleep, as if they couldn’t rest until they knew he had come back.

For the first time, Ghost didn’t feel confusion or irritation. He didn’t feel the need to question why they were there, or why they had all chosen his room, of all places. He knew.

They were his team. His family. And they weren’t just there on the battlefield—they were here, waiting for him. Every time.

Ghost stood there for a long moment, his throat tightening as the weight of the moment settled over him. They had been waiting for him. Every time he returned, they had been there. And now, after the hell he’d been through, they were here again.

Something inside Ghost cracked.

He wasn’t used to this. To anyone caring this much. To anyone waiting for him. But the sight of all three of them, crammed into his bed, hit him harder than any mission ever had. And before he could stop himself, he felt a tear slip down his cheek, soaking into his mask.

Silent, as usual and barely noticeable.

Ghost took a shaky breath, reaching up to tug off his mask. The cool air hit his face, but it did nothing to stop the quiet emotion building in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do with it—wasn’t sure how to let himself feel this—but he couldn’t push it down this time.

He moved toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t care that there wasn’t enough space. He didn’t care that it would be cramped. He just wanted to be near them.

Careful not to wake them, Ghost slipped into the small space between Gaz and Price. Soap stirred as Ghost settled in, shifting to lie across Ghost’s legs, his head resting against Ghost’s thigh as he mumbled something in his sleep.

Ghost let out a quiet breath, feeling the warmth of his team pressed against him. Gaz shifted slightly, his arm brushing against Ghost’s side, and Ghost could feel the steady rise and fall of Price’s breathing beside him. It was messy, cramped, and imperfect, but Ghost didn’t care.

He lay there in the dark, feeling the silent tears slip down his face, each one a reminder that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone. Not out there. Not here.

They had been waiting for him. And they would always be waiting for him.

Ghost closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the too-small space, his body aching but his mind finally quiet. He wasn’t just surviving anymore.

He was home.

[sam-loves-seb]

life changes | rated: m - 8.2k - 1/1

When Ian first brought up this ridiculous idea, Mickey honestly thought it was a joke. They found a flyer slipped under their door when they got home from work, bright blue with a picture of a cartoon sun at the top. An invite for a building-wide event, some social mixer down by the pool. “It’ll be fun,” Ian said, and Mickey snorted as he tossed the flyer in with the rest of the junk mail. He thought Ian was being sarcastic. He thought it was a joke. Now, as he stands in their bedroom, ripping off the price tag on a brand-new pair of swim trunks Ian brought home for him yesterday, Mickey is resigned to meet his fate.

// ian and mickey meet some of their new west side neighbors

[ read the rest on ao3 ]

[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.