#and i actually don’t even know if it can even be made to work at this point. and i do Not have the money for a new stand

[fromdove]

SMELLS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN COPING ! jason todd x reader

“I am so high right now,”

— jason coming home to you high, mention of being high & weed, gn reader (but written with fem reader in mind) jason smokes weed (this is so real to me)!! stoner todd

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `��` ㆍ

You smelled him before you saw him.

Smoke — bitter, herbal, laced with something earthy and sharp. Weed. The expensive kind he only used when he was actually physically hurting. It clung to him like it had crawled into every thread of his hoodie and kissed his skin on the way out.

The door clicked shut softly behind him, and he stepped inside like he wasn’t two hours later than he said he’d be. like he owned the place. Eyes heavy-lidded. Movements slow, deliberate, like he’d edited the speed of real life down to 75%.

Hood up. Hands in his pockets. Lazy in that way only he could be — like the world didn’t get to tell him how to carry his pain.

“Hey, baby,” he drawled, voice rough and low. “Miss me?”

Your arms crossed automatically. “You're high.”

Jason looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded, the corner of his mouth tugged up like he was already amused.

“I’m walking, talking, and not bleeding out. I call that a win.”

You didn’t smile. “You said you weren’t going to.”

“I said I’d try not to. Then my ribs started screaming halfway through patrol, and weed doesn’t come with a side of addiction or a lecture from Alfred.”

You just stare.

He held up both hands. “My ribs hurt like hell. What do you want me to do, take a bubble bath and wish on a star?”

“I want you to stop setting your lungs on fire. I don't want your lungs looking like Gotham’s sewer system”

He raised an eyebrow and walked over, slow and unbothered. Everything about him moved on a delay when he was like this. That smug tilt to his mouth, that slouch in his shoulders — he was feeling himself tonight, high and warm and a little bullet sore.

He dropped down beside you, stretching his long legs out and throwing one arm lazily over the back of the couch.

“You worried about me, angel?”

“You reek like a dispensary. A cheap one.”

“Hey,” he said, mock-offended. “This was premium pain relief. Organic. Grown with love. Hand-rolled by yours truly. I’m basically a sommelier at this point.”

You leaned away slightly, nose wrinkled. "you reek."

He grinned, leaned down until his nose brushed your cheek. “Missed you too, angel.”

You pushed his chest. “Don’t act cute. You didn’t text. I thought something happened.”

Jason’s smile faltered. Not all the way — just enough to show the crack behind the grin. He leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said, softer now. “I know. I’m sorry. Should’ve called.”

You looked at him — really looked. His jaw was tight. His hoodie was clean but wrinkled, like he’d put it on after changing out of something soaked in sweat or blood. His eyes had that gloss to them, but not in the way that made you worry. Just… dulled.

“I don’t get high to disappear,” he muttered. “I just… I hurt. It helps. Doesn’t mean I don’t hear your voice in my head about it.”

“Oh yeah?” You moved closer beside him, tucking your legs under you. “What’s my voice say?”

Jason smiled again — slower, this time. Almost real. “Says, ‘Jason Peter Todd, if you ruin your lungs I’m not pushing your wheelchair when you’re forty.’”

You snorted despite yourself. “Damn right.”

He reached over lazily, arm slung across your shoulders.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. His fingers played absently with the hem of your sleeve. His breathing slowed, deepened. He always got a little clingy when he smoked — mellow, touchy, like the armor cracked just enough for the softness underneath to breathe.

“C’mere,” he said, tugging you closer anyway. “Lemme love you while I still can feel my legs.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist. You moved even closer. He was warm. Always warm, even when he was being a pain in the ass. You pressed a kiss just beneath his eye.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “You can hold me till it wears off.”

He sighed against your hair.

“I’d hold you even if it didn’t.”

[quill-of-thoth]

So. Not a tanner or a cloth maker here but - tanning can be very chemically specific. For those curious my perspective is of an animal pathologist's assistant. I have cut up several cows.

You do have the opportunity to amass a lot of leather if you hunt large animals, but post the adoption of farming and herding, most people are not feeding themselves that way. And there is just more small game overall. Leather is not necessarily easier, quicker, or less expensive to make than cloth, it just depends on what resources you have that are most abundant.

So the steps to making leather are as follows:

(Under the cut because, uh. I know this stuff from my job, which is “open a dead animal and let the doctor see what’s wrong with it” and most of it is messy.)

1) Kill and skin animal. This means removing the whole skin, in as intact a piece as possible, which while harder than it seems would be something your fictional leather-working society would be way better at than me.

Actually, scratch that. Step 1 is know what kind of animal gets you the type of leather that you want. Cowhide and horsehide are thick and tough but provide a lot of usable skin. Young goats are supposedly great for thinner, softer leathers, but my professional experience doesn't give me a lot to go on there. The phrase "kid gloves" means that they are leather gloves made from young goats, aka kids, which tells you that the leather is thin and flexible. The main cost of this step is having enough of the animals you need to slaughter. If you’re hunting, then it’s all meat to you, but if you are a farmer pre-industrially, meat might be a byproduct of animal husbandry and not the point of it. One of the main reasons to keep a herd mammal – horses, cows, sheep, goats, llamas – is milk. Milk is liquid protein and once you figure out how to make cheese it can store for longer than meat can, at least without a fuckton of salt, which is often worth its weight in gold historically. (You could also smoke it but fuel is expensive and smoking things is technically a little trickier than salting them.) If you kill too many of your female animals, you don’t get milk, and you don’t get baby animals. If you keep too many male baby animals until adulthood, they start fighting and may injure you, your valuable female animals, or the structures you have built to keep your valuable herd animals in your possession instead of your neighbors. As a herder, your reliable access to meat and hides is mostly culling immature males from your herd, which tends to lead to smaller amounts of usable hide.

2) Scrape that shit. Harder. If you do not remove literally all the connective tissue beneath the skin, your hide will rot. Your hide may still rot if you don’t tan it properly or wait too long to tan it. Or if you tan it wrong by dumping shit in water and waiting for the magic of fermentation to work right without even knowing the difference between an acid and a base.

The scraping is also a great way to tear the hide or put holes in it. If you, for example, want to make leather out of a cow that has been lying around in the summer for a day because you wisely prioritized the meat… it can get kinda fragile, depending on what the bacteria do. I have to sharpen our 21st century steel knives literally every time we do a cow or a horse, just to get through the hide at all, and I have still seen cowskin tear like thin cloth if it’s deteriorated enough.

3) Assuming you have completed steps 1 and 2, you need the chemicals to tan the animal. Historically brains have been used a lot. DO NOT DO THIS if you are a modern person who wants to hunt for meat or leather. Prion diseases like CWD live in the brain, as do a lot of viruses that will kill or disable you painfully and slowly. It’s a relatively low risk (compared to things like accidents with your hunting gun) but it’s a risk you do not have to take. Yes, this is why some states want you to turn in the heads of any deer you shoot, regardless of how many points they have. This is part of how we tell you if the deer you shot is actually safe to eat, and not full of said viruses that will kill or disable you painfully. The other thing that you need is a steady location and a fuckton of water, because these bitches need to soak for a long time. Way longer than soak times for retting flax or other plant stem fibers. And in multiple different solutions of the foulest smelling shit that you can imagine: in addition to brains, the steps included soaking in urine, possibly dung if you didn’t have enough brains, salt curing, soaking until the hair is loosened and then scraping all that off, and then the actual tanning, which is soaking it in a high tannic acid tree bark solution until it’s ready. You can skip some of these steps, especially if you are, say, a paleolithic hunter gatherer. But your leathers will degrade faster. They will be less comfortable and less good for your range of motion. So the production of leather is not necessarily less time consuming than cloth. It is also resource expensive at many steps – from start to finish you need animal wealth, mineral and plant resources, time, and a lot of water that you don’t need urgently for something else, like irrigation or watering your livestock. You’ll also want to do your tanning away from where you eat and sleep, because, the odor of fermenting cowhide is not fun. Finally, it is way more difficult at every step to construct a garment out of leather: cutting it, using an awl to punch holes in it so you can actually sew, or boiling it into shape. It’s also a specialized process when it comes to the chemical aspect, more so than cleaning wool or beating flax, both of which you can produce way more of (eventually) as a small household in the middle of nowhere. Spinning and weaving are both activities you can pick at slowly – you can also get a very small child to spin yarn acceptably with practice, freeing up your adult hands to do things like the weaving, while you really can’t bring your tots into your leather working and expect them to do anything but get underfoot. And shitty cloth smells way better than shitty rotting leather. And none of this even scratches the surface of the material property reasons why a society may prefer leather for some applications (saddles, shoes...) and cloth for others.

@lingerie_addict has a really cool thread on ancient fashion over on twitter.

Those source links are here

cambridge.org

Youtube

ucl.ac.uk

[lazysoulwriter]

she wants more... (again?) - pedro pascal. (mdni)

requested! thank you. ♡ content: age gap, ovulation kink vibes, praise, soft dom!pedro, overstimulation, teasing, begging, clinginess, rough + tender, slight humor, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe irl!), and a very tired but very devoted Pedro Pascal.

---

He really should’ve known the second you texted him “come over. emergency.” and followed it with a winking emoji.

Not because he minded — he’d never minded — but because he had plans that day. And now he was here, pants halfway down his thighs, sweat blooming along his chest while you rode him like your life depended on it.

“Baby,” he gasped, gripping your hips as you bounced with intention. “I’m not sure how many more times I’ve got in me—”

“You said that last time,” you smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to his flushed cheek. “And still gave me two more.”

“That was before I knew you were trying to kill me.”

You giggled — actually giggled — and he felt his cock twitch inside you. Traitorous.

“Pedro,” you whispered, eyes dreamy and half-lidded, “you love when I get like this.”

He did. He really, really did.

There was something about you during this time of the month — soft and needy, always touching, always kissing, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a kitten in heat. It made something primal in him go feral. And you knew it. You used it.

“Tell me again,” you pouted now, breathless, hands splayed across his chest.

He groaned, nearly whining. “Tell you what, hermosa?”

“That I’m your good girl. That I take you so well. That I’m—”

“Fuck. You are,” he growled, sitting up to press his mouth to your throat. “My good girl. So fuckin’ desperate for me. You feel everything, don’t you? Everything I give you—”

“All of it,” you moaned, grinding against him. “Need more.”

He laughed, but it was low and ruined. “More?”

“You can give it to me,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear. “I know you can. You always do.”

You weren’t wrong. Even now, his body sore and aching, Pedro found himself flipping you onto your back, kneeling between your legs like it was a goddamn ceremony.

“Only ‘cause it’s you,” he muttered.

“Only ‘cause I’m ovulating,” you corrected sweetly.

He gave you a look — somewhere between amused and absolutely wrecked — then kissed his way down until he was between your thighs again.

You gasped when his tongue met you, back arching as your fingers dove into his curls.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “again?!”

He pulled back just long enough to rasp, “your words, sweetheart.”

Then went back to licking you like he was addicted — like you were his religion and this, the worship.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[theseinfernalangels]

Heyyy I love your fics so much, they're so good!!

Could I request 30 with Garrick please :)

30: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

It was hot — unusually hot, actually, even for a night in July. You had ditched your sheets and comforter and had half the mind to strip — but you weren’t that confident yet.

Garrick, though, has no problem with taking off his clothes in front of you — like now, as he lays shirtless in bed next to you. Thankfully, he doesn’t run hot even though he has so much muscle mass to him. He lies awake, but at least he’s somewhat comfortable. Not you, though. You’re sweating bullets — and you don’t think you’ve ever felt more uncomfortable in your life.

You groan as a hand comes up to lazily grope at your stomach. “Lovely,” Garrick whispers, playing with the hem of your nightshirt. “You’re going to have a heatstroke. You know you can take this off if you’re really uncomfortable.”

You shake your head. “No. I can’t work myself up to doing that yet.” You pout as you realize the distance between the two of you. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d cuddled in the aftermath of heat, but there was no way you’d be comfortable when you were slick with sweat.

Garrick notices right away. “Hey,” he says softly, lightly taking your hand in his. “You okay?”

You brush your bangs away from your dampened forehead. “Eh. I just wish I could be closer without being hotter. I feel fucking gross right now.”

He sits up and scoffs. “Is that really it?” Leaning over above you, he squints. “You realize that I could care less about that, right? We’ve full-on made out after sparring time and time again, and neither of us had any complaints then.”

“Well, yeah.” You shift a little, arching your back to let some air flow under you. “But that’s a heat of the moment thing. I’m too aware to not care about it right now. I don’t want to sweat all over you.”

Garrick makes a small tch noise, and you gasp a little as you feel his hand come up to support your back as he fully hovers above you. 

“As if I’d care about that.” He rolls his eyes, pressing his own sweat-dampened hairline to yours. “I feel lucky when you breathe in my direction.”

You resist the urge to huff at him; now you’re blushing, and that only makes you hotter. His fingers trace up your side reverently, though, which feels so damn good that you momentarily forgive him.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “This okay?” He asks carefully, his eyes searching yours for any signs that you don’t want him on you. You reach out and card your fingers through his curls, pushing his head back towards yours without saying anything. A little smirk lights up his face, and he wastes no time in peppering your face with little kisses.

“So. Fucking. Cute.” He emphasizes and enunciates every word. “I think this is just how I feel around you on the inside, anyway.” He kisses your bottom lip and nips at it gently. 

You don’t suppress the small sigh that works its way from your mouth. “What, I get you hot under the collar or something?” You tease, raising a brow. 

Garrick grins. “Not what I meant, but yeah — that, too. You can’t blame me, though, when you look like this.”

He scoots down a little and nuzzles into your tummy. “Fucking adorable,” he says into the fabric of your shirt. “I would stay here forever, if you let me.”

You chuckle, rubbing his head with sleep-weakened fingers. “Even though I’m drenched in sweat?”

Garrick nods, grasping your free hand in his. “Even though you’re drenched in sweat,” he agrees. “If you think that makes you less than perfect, then you’re crazy.”

“Me?” You stare at him in disbelief. “No. No way. You’re the crazy one out of the two of us.”

“Only for you, lovely,” he hums, laying his head on your 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Miss Raven! I am here today to ask if you have any thoughts on Ortho’s age. I see a lot of people saying that Ortho is mentally a child which is the reason he’s left out of a lot of like x reader stuff which I totally understand why that would be uncomfortable. Sometimes I see people saying that Ortho is actually closer to 16 though? I’m kinda confused now so I wanted your opinion. Thanks and sorry if this is an uncomfortable subject or something.

Like I expressed in this post about Malleus’s mental age, I don’t think there’s a very obvious right or wrong answer to this. To the second anon, please refer to the post I linked to answer your question.

I understand that people can be uncomfortable shipping Ortho with other characters, who are typically teenagers or actual adults, due to how he appears very young. That’s entirely their right to do so, and it’s a valid stance to have. I myself choose to avoid shipping Ortho too, but I have additional reasons that I won’t get into here since it gets sort of personal 😅 However, I also hold the opinion that Ortho is not mentally a child, even if he may physically present as one because of his small stature.

Let’s quickly review the lore behind Ortho and why some fans see him as a child. He’s a technomantic android created by Idia and imbued with the memories of the original Ortho, the younger Shroud brother who passed away in a horrible accident. In 6-75, we learn that Idia was 10 years old at the time of this accident, meaning that Ortho was 2 years younger than him at 8 (since Idia is currently 18 and, in book 7, Ortho is starting his first year at RSA as a 16-year old).

Ortho mentions in his Birthday Gear vignettes that he has the strongest birthday memories of 11 years ago. If we assume Ortho is 16ish now (also stated in his Birthday Gear), this seems to imply that OG!Ortho died after his 5th birthday, perhaps as young as 5 years old. Idia would be 7ish around the time Ortho is 5. Factoring in the 2 years that pass after Ortho’s death, Idia is would be 9-10ish. This creates a potential contradiction, as the S.T.Y.X. researchers appear to claim Idia was 10 at the time of Ortho’s death and not 2 years after it. The only way this works is if they were talking about 10 year-old Idia in the present, but Idia was actually closer to 7-8 when he hacked the security systems 💦 I’m going to assume ghat the “strongest birthday memories” mentioned in the Birthday Gear vignettes simply refers to a very detailed memory due to the happiness OG!Ortho experienced that year, not that it was the last birthday he experienced before death.

It should also be noted that it took Idia roughly 2 years to actually make the technomantic android we now know as Ortho. If we add these 2 years to Ortho's original age at death (5 to 8), he would be around 7-10ish in his new form. For the sake of simplicity, I will assume the older age estimates in the rest of their discussion.

Ortho's official profile lists his height as 148 cm, which is significantly more than the height of the average 10-year old boy (~138.5 cm). His actual height is, however, very close to the average height of a 12-year old boy (149 cm). Ortho at this point also sounds different than the child Ortho we see in Idia's post-OB flashback, indicating that our Ortho is slightly older than at the time of death. Idia most likely designed robo!Ortho to match the age Ortho would have been at, had he lived those 2 years.

Altogether, this, at best, places Ortho at 8 years old minimum and 10, maybe 12 years old maximum. That makes him not even a teenager yet--so why do I think he's actually closer to 16 mentally and not 10-12? Because he knows much more than the average child does and is able to very eloquently verbalize his vast knowledge.

Now, I do think an argument can be made that Ortho only knows as much as he does (including his vocabulary) because of his inherent nature as a robot and not as an organic being. Ah, and here's the crux of the issue: can we judge an android by the same standards as that of a human??? In my eyes, a gifted or genius child cannot compete with the capabilities of a supercomputer. Ortho is equipped with very advanced learning algorithms, which allow him to pick up on and learn quickly--and this is something that I equate with his ability to grow and develop as though he were human. In Fairy Gala If, Ortho defines his own understanding of evolution and applies that concept to his runway walk. Even the emotions that Ortho currently expresses are the result of him learning from the media he consumes and then emulating them. He's formally recognized as a student late in book 6 as well, which effectively makes him a first year (most of which are 16ish). I assume that Ortho even starts to take classes meant for first year high school students at that point, and has no issues with the difficulty of the material. I think that, to label him as 10-12ish or even 8, it unnecessarily infantilizes Ortho minimizes his own advanced ability to learn and grow and change: things that are most definitely human.

I also think that Ortho's behaviors are too mature for a typical child. That's not to say that he's the peak of maturity (let's not forget how often he defaults to trying to laser beam his problems away), but Ortho is typically very logical and relies on cold, hard facts to make optimal decisions. He is also the one that usually moderates Idia and tries to encourage healthy behaviors in him, like socializing, leaving his room, sleeping on time, eating well, trying new things, etc. Ortho is essentially his brother's keeper for a good chunk of the main story and in vignettes (like Ceremonial Robes) and events (Harveston Sledathon, Wish Upon a Star, etc.). This isn't an absolute, of course. I can see people pointing out that Ortho only acts logical because he's a robot, or that little kids are sometimes forced to "grow up" faster due to their pressing circumstances (which, in this case, is Idia and his anxiety). These are valid interpretations too. If memory serves correctly, the students at NRC don't exactly treat Ortho like some baby that wandered onto campus. At most, they tend to just refer to him as Idia's kid brother. ("Kid" here not referring to Ortho literally being a child; it could also be interpreted as "younger" brother or the "younger/little" Shroud.) The few who do make fun of him for looking young tend to be mobs or painted as misunderstanding him (as is the case with Ortho's Ignihyde Gear vignettes). Ortho even seems to be surprised at being mistaken for a child by Diasomnia mobs: "A kid? Oh, you must not know who I am since you're freshmen."

Idia had the liberty to design Ortho's body however he wanted. As previously stated though, it's likely that he modeled the body off of the age of death rather than updating it to reflect a more mature mentality. In other words, Ortho's body doesn't reflect what he knows or how he acts. If I had to give a real world comparison, it's like how there are really short adults--but that doesn't make them any less of an adult just because they're short; they often can't help their bodies being that way. (In Idia's book 7 dream, Ortho at age 16 is still depicted as being short.)

I do think that, to some degree, Ortho is aware that he presents like a child and knows how to use this to his advantage to get his way. He sometimes plays it up to beg Idia to come out of his room, and, in his Ignihyde Gear vignettes, Ortho plays innocent to Trein so that it seems like some mob students are bullying him (even though the truth is that Ortho was playing embarrassing videos of said mob students for he public to view). "Professor, I was just minding my own business and drying the sheets when these two started yelling at me... *sniffle*"

Those are my thoughts! Please bear in mind that this is just my own interpretation; it's in no way canon, and nor am I insisting it to be. Ortho's age is officially stated as "undefined", so I don't think there's a clear number we can put to him. It's really up to individual interpretation! I hope that I was able to provide both sides to the argument and sufficient information for you to come to your own conclusions about Ortho's age ^^

[mycroftrh]

@justme-andmyfandomfeels I’m not going to comment on the rest of your tags because I don’t necessarily disagree with them, I feel ambivalent and I don’t feel like that feeling’s enough to write a post over lol

But I am gonna dig in my heels on this one, actually. If you had said “it’s not obedience, it’s fear”, or even “it’s attachment”, or Hell even “it’s selfishness/possessiveness” [although as someone who has been in that situation and had family members in it as well I don’t agree with Lucas’s implied belief (and the Jedi’s stated one) that not wanting a loved one to die very very young is a moral failing, but that’s beside the point], or heck “it’s protectiveness” I would have said yeah, sure, I don’t fully agree but that’s a fair read.

But anger? No. The order of operations is wrong there. The anger came after. Once he was already high on the Dark Side.

Generalized resentment towards the Council may have been a factor in what actions he was willing to take (going against the command to wait instead of following Mace, disabling Mace) but the actual driving emotion of anger does not appear notably in the moment of his Fall. It shows up later, when he’s choking Padme and fighting Obi-Wan, and he shows it to some extent early in the movie (It’s outrageous! It’s unfair!) and there’s an argument to be made that it’s a very indirect factor via the end of Attack of the Clones.

But in the scene of his actual Fall and for multiple scenes after, he is not visibly angry. (And when Anakin’s angry, it’s visible!)

For the first section of the scene, Anakin’s affect is largely blank, if anything; he doesn’t seem capable of processing emotion at all. He’s completely passive; he just stands there except for covering his eyes when the lightning gets bright.

Then after an extended period of Palpatine pulling his “oh, I’m too weak, help me, he’s killing me” business, and Mace making it very clear he is about to pull an extra-judicial execution, Anakin finally says - without anger - “You can’t, he must stand trial. It’s not the Jedi way.”

He then gets a bit more emotional in terms of desperation - not anger - as Palpatine keeps begging and acting pathetic and Mace raises his lightsaber for the execution, and says “He must live! I need him!”

And when Mace doesn’t respond to that, he yells “No!” and non-lethally disables Mace to stop the execution and protect Palpatine. Palpatine then kills Mace, which Anakin doesn’t seem to have expected, but his expectation there is debatable so we’ll leave it off the table. He does, however, just sort of… stand there, unmoving, while this occurs. He is not helping; he is not cheering it on; and he’s also not trying to stop it. He’s just standing there, frozen, not acting or reacting.

Anakin then stumbles backwards to fall onto a seat and says, brokenly, “What have I done?”

Palpatine comes over and says “You’re fulfilling your destiny, Anakin,” and Anakin drops his head. “Become my apprentice; learn to use the Dark Side of the Force.”

Anakin pants out, brokenly, barely able to speak, “I will do whatever you… [pant] ask. Just help me save Padme’s life. I can’t live without her.” He drops his head again.

“To cheat death is a power only one has achieved, but if we work together, I know we can discover the secret.”

Anakin drops to his knees in slave-submission. (I’ve noted elsewhere that Palpatine does not cue him to do this; the only Watsonian explanation I can come up with for him kneeling here is his slave history.) He says “I pledge myself to your teachings,” and then drops his head yet again.

Palpatine names him Vader, and he says “Thank you, my Master.” (Also not a word Palpatine cued; he’s getting that one from slavery and the Jedi both.). Palpatine gives him a lot of orders, and bullshit justifications for them, and he obediently says he’ll go carry them out.

And then he does - marching on the Jedi Temple, killing the Seperatist leaders - with his only apparent emotion being grief. He’s crying, not yelling, when he kills the younglings.

The anger? The Force-choking and the LIAR and the I HATE YOU? That only shows up well after he has already Fallen.

Now, if you wanted to argue that anger is part of what kept him with Palpatine after he was in the suit and Padme was dead, I might be willing to accept that argument; I’m not sure I agree, but I don’t disagree enough to say anything. But the actual moment of Anakin’s Fall was not about anger, and that’s a textual fact.

There is an absolutely fascinating moment in the Obi-Wan and Padme and Anakin confrontation on Mustafar that I kinda want to spin like three full-length fics off of.

Anakin’s Force-choking Padme. Obi-Wan orders him: “Let her go! Let her go, Anakin!” and Anakin - Anakin who has already pledged fealty to Darth Sidious, who has already embraced the Dark Side, who has disclaimed loyalty to Obi-Wan - obeys the command.

He genuinely doesn’t seem to drop Padme because he’s processed yet what he’s doing; it really does look like he’s instinctively obeying Obi-Wan’s orders even when he’s fully off his rocker, out of his mind from everything from accumulated trauma to elemental-evil-exposure, and has officially denounced any hierarchical relationship between them.

And there is SO much to be unpacked there.

I’m guessing that what’s going on, for the most part, is a decade of conditioning as Obi-Wan’s Padawan (and subsequent years as his partner-but-subordinate) to follow his orders reflexively. Combined with Anakin’s overall instinct to obedience, trained into him by everyone from Watto to the Council to Palpatine. And that’s so powerful it overrides everything else, when even Anakin’s protectiveness of Padme couldn’t break through it. Underneath it all, he's still more Padawan than Sith Lord, at an instinctual level.

(It’s not the only time obedience to Obi-Wan takes precedence over the protectiveness of Padme that is otherwise his driving trait, by the way; Obi-Wan orders him to leave her alone and injured in Attack of the Clones and follow Obi-Wan instead of rescuing her and, though he argues a bit, he obeys.)

And what does it say, too, that that’s what Obi-Wan defaulted to? He considers Anakin a brother, at this point, sees them as equals in many ways. But in an urgent situation, he doesn’t plead or reason - he barks an order expecting to be obeyed. Because, in the end, he is a Master, and Anakin never was. And all the weight Anakin gives that fact? The near-meltdown he has about it in the Council chamber? He’s not getting that from nowhere.

In an AU, if Obi-Wan had, instead of fighting him, said “Anakin, I’m going to take over the Republic now and you’re going to be my attack dog. Sit. Stay. Now bite.” Would that have worked? Based on both this scene and how frequently Anakin offers to betray Palpatine for other people so they can rule the Empire in Palpatine’s stead with Anakin as their iron fist, it seems likely!

[fou4summer]

Loud neighbor

kim minjeong × fem!reader

synopsis: you found your new neighbor Minjeong annoying, too loud and weird, but after one night everything changed.

warnings: smut!, rough sex, strap use, kinda enemies to lovers, thats it i thinkkk

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 1.8k

You hated going to work early in the morning, but at least it was peaceful. Until today.

You woke up before your alarm thanks to voices echoing through the hallway. Annoyed, you got up, opened your door just a crack, and peeked out. There was a guy with boxes, and behind him a shorter girl with brown hair and bangs.

"You can put that one there thanks!" She chirped. Way too smiley. Way too bubbly. Like it wasn’t 8AM.

You sighed and dragged yourself back inside to get dressed.

Later, as you left your apartment, you bumped into the same girl from the hall. What the hell was she doing near your place when you'd seen her way down the hall?

"Oh hi! I’m so sorry! I just wanted to give the neighbors these chocolate bars. Very tasty by the way!" Her voice was deep. Like, surprisingly deep. It didn’t match her cute, innocent face at all.

You looked down and.....yep. Chocolate bar in hand.

"I don’t need this." You grabbed it and put it back in her hand.

Her smile faltered. Just for a second. Like she was hoping to make a friend. Too bad. You didn’t talk to your neighbors unless you had to and none of them had ever irritated you like this one.

—

Work was brutal. Your boss dumped a last minute task on you, so you ended up staying late. By the time you got home, all you wanted was to lay down and pretend the day hadn’t happened.

And then? Loud music. Not just loud, it was brain melting loud. You knew exactly who it was. Storming down the hall, you pounded on her door. She opened it casually, wearing a white shirt and underwear.

“Oh hey neighbor! You still haven’t told me your name, but you show up this late? Do you maybe want that chocolate ba—”

"I, not maybe, want you to shut the fuck up and turn that shit off. Its one in the morning. Some of us actually work." You snapped. She just stood there, staring at you with those wide eyes like you hadn’t just yelled at her.

"What are you staring at freak?" You snapped.

"You look really hot like that. Can you yell at me again?" She tilted her head and stepped closer.

Your mouth fell open. What?

Then you noticed her gaze drop to your chest and you remembered. You weren’t wearing anything under your shirt.

"Stop looking weirdo!" You shouted, slapping her lightly across the face.

She recoiled instantly clutching her cheek. "O-Ow! What was that for?! I was just observi—"

You cut her off again with a shove. "Don’t make me come here again."

You turned around and walked off, but just as you reached your door, she yelled after you.

"Minjeong!"

You turned, confused.

"My name is Minjeong, Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes and shut the door behind you....Wait?

How the fuck did she know your name?

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Actually, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. No. No, you did not like the weird neighbor who thought it was a good idea to blast Deftones at 2AM.

—

The next morning, as you were leaving for work, you saw her outside the building. She was showing some comic book pages to another girl. The girl wasn’t even looking at the pages. She was looking at Minjeong. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to push her away. You didn’t hate that she was laughing with someone else.

Lies. All lies. You tried to pass by unnoticed, but she spotted you instantly.

"Y/N! Good morning!" She called out, waving excitedly.

"Morning." You kept walking, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn’t. She followed.

"Well, we made progress. You said good morning."

"I said morning. Not good morning. If it were a good morning, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now." She laughed, like you hadn’t just insulted her again.

"Stop following me. Go back to your girlfriend."

"G-Girlfriend?! Wait—I'm confused. You mean the girl I was just talking to? She’s my childhood frie—"

"I don’t care who she is. I don’t care about you. You’re just a loser trapped in a hot body—" You slapped your hand over your mouth mid sentence. Minjeong smirked.

"Oh? What was that Y/N?" She poked your shoulder teasingly.

"Don’t touch me." You stepped onto the bus just as she waved goodbye. You flipped her off. She laughed again.

—

"You guys don’t understand, shes so annoying." You ranted to your friends at lunch. "She was showing some random girl her stupid comic books and the girl was just staring at her like she was in love or something." Your friend calmly reached over and put a finger on your mouth.

"Girl....Are you sure you are not in love with her?"

"What?! Ew! With that nerd? Never." Your friends burst out laughing.

"Hey is this her?" One of them said, holding up a phone. "I think I found her insta." You looked.

Her feed was chaos. Guitars, concerts, selfies with her tongue out, comics, her friends, her band. And of course, one clip of her playing guitar absolutely shredding.

"Y/N if this is her, you are so dumb for not being in her bed right now..." Your other friend added.

"Okay you can obsess at home. I’ll send you her profile. Hopefully you keep both hands on your phone…"

"Sure—Wait what the fuck?! Don’t send me her—and excuse me?!" You shouted, your face burning as your friends cracked up.

—

You took a nap after your lunch with friends. You woke up 20 minutes later sweaty and panting. You had a dream of Minjeong. Her touching you, kissing you....You couldn't take it anymore.

You clicked her profile that your friends sent you earlier and scrolled through the pictures. The video of her playing a guitar really good. You wished you were that guitar so bad that you put your hand in your underwear slowly pushing two fingers inside already. You were soaking wet....for Minjeong. Stupid loud neighbor next door that you couldn't stand. You were so close, whimpering and moaning her name when you heard a knock. You opened it standing awkwardly and then you saw her.

"You called me didn't you Y/N?" You froze at her words gulping and shaking your head.

"But when I came by to give you cookies earlier and as I was about to knock you were like 'Minjeong...please go faster, please fuck me harder!' am I wron—" You covered her mouth with your hand before pulling her inside. She laughed making you even more frustrated.

You shut the door before kissing her hungrily. You were pathetic, yet you wanted her so bad.

"Easy there..." She pulled you back by your hair as you reached for her lips again.

"Fuck p-please I need you so bad...You don't understand I don't like you but..." You didn't even know what you were saying but she crashed her lips onto yours into a heated kiss once again.

"If you didn't like me already(you did), you sure will like me after tonight. Go on do what you want." You tugged at her pants, but you felt a bulge. Did she fucking had a strap on? Did she return the cookies just to put it on? She was such a fucking freak, still you wanted her so bad. You took her sweatpants off same as she slowly did for you.

"Damn Y/N, was I that good in the dream?" She whispered against your chest as you sat in her lap. How did she even know about that? Is she a stalker or something? Who knows how long she had been staying there listening.

"I hate you so much..." You said as you lowered yourself onto her strap. You slowly began to ride her as she just stared at your face. She was so fucking weird, but it kept turning you on. You kept going until you wanted more.

"I-I can't like this..." Right after you said it she picked you up, carrying you to your bed and gently placing you on it before climbing on top.

—

You didn't even know what time you were coming already, you just know she didn't stop slamming into you at an insane pace making your head spin. There were tears at the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself getting close for the who knows what time.

"I can't...I'm close again..." You mumbled, but its like you couldn't get enough of her. She wiped your tears away giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Do you want me to stop? Is it too much?" She stopped her movement instantly even tho she was slamming into you for the past 2 hours.

"D-Don't you fucking stop p-please Minjeong..." You put your arms around her neck pulling her closer as she continued.

"I'm coming M-Minjeo—" She kissed you, caressing your face as you came all over.

You both panted before she stood up from the bed, going to drink a glass of water and returning with another glass for you. She went to shower, carrying you with her. You didn't have a bathtub, so she had to hold you around your waist so you don't fall, since your legs were shaky.

"There, all done now baby!" She smiled, kissing your head. How did she still have so much energy?

She helped you dress up before tucking you into your bed, giving you a glass of water to freshen up. She slipped in there too, wrapping her arms around you.

"Do you think you're my girlfriend so you can hold me like this huh?" You mumbled, shifting closer to her.

"Stop being grumpy already. Can I be your girlfriend then Y/N?" Her words were soft and sweet. You turned around, facing her and looking into her big brown eyes. She looked at you like she wanted you to say yes more than anything.

"Only if you stop posting guitar videos so much. You are too good at it...Girls will obsess..." You mumbled as she pulled you closer by your waist.

"Promise on my comic books!" She held her pinky out, waiting for yours. She was so childish and you didn't know how you used to hate that. It just made her so adorable.

"Keep it down..." You teased her and she snuggled even closer like she wasn't already close enough.

"Couldn't say the same to you an hour ago..." You hit her playfully and she just laughed. After some time, you both fell asleep in each others arms.

A/N: Okay yall I wanted to write for Minjeong for so long so I hope yall will like this one too!

[viaxslz]

. 【 ARRANGED ℳARRIAGE 】

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 !reader, cw: arranged marriage au, slight angst, fluff (ig), kissing, strangers to lovers (if that’s what they call it), super duber long (ok might not disappear but who knows), not proofread :P, hyung line ver.

HAN

Han Jisung –(aka husband who swears he’s not panicking while definitely panicking) From the moment you said “I do,” Han Jisung looked like he was fighting for his life. He was sweating through his suit, grinning way too wide, and stuttering so much during the vows that the officiant asked him twice if he was under duress. You weren’t thrilled about the arranged marriage either. You didn’t know each other, didn’t choose each other, and for the first few weeks, it showed. The atmosphere in your shared home was polite but tense like two interns accidentally assigned the same group project, silently wondering who would flake first. Jisung tried his best. He’d attempt conversation over breakfast: “Do you… like toast?” “I mean, of course you like toast, who doesn’t like toast—wait, are you gluten-free? Should I die?” “Sorry. That was dramatic. I’ll stop talking. Unless you want me to talk. Then I’ll talk forever.” You stared at him like he was a sitcom character that got lost on the way to his own show. The man was nervous. Constantly. He’d bump into chairs and say “sorry” to them. He’d knock on the bathroom door even when it was clearly open. He’d rehearse things in his room before saying them to you. One night you overheard: “Hey, Y/N, how was your day? No, too fake. Try again. Okay—Hey, Y/N! How’s the weather in your heart tod—no. Ew. What the hell.” You almost laughed. Almost. But the truth is, Jisung wasn’t acting. He was just genuinely trying. Genuinely overwhelmed. Genuinely scared of screwing up something that had already started with zero consent or choice. One night, you came home exhausted from work, dropped your bag on the floor, and groaned into your hands. Jisung, who had been pretending to study something on his laptop, panicked. “Oh my god. Did someone yell at you? Did you eat today? Did a bird attack you again?” “…Again?” He scrambled into the kitchen like a sitcom wife from the ‘50s, muttering, “I can cook—I mean, I can microwave—no wait, I made eggs once without the shell—wait, do you like eggs??” You burst out laughing. You didn’t mean to, but it just happened. And Jisung froze, blinking like he’d just won a Grammy. “…Was that a laugh? Did I do that? Did I—should I bottle this moment? Is this my peak?” You couldn’t stop. You laughed until you cried, and he stood there, looking both victorious and deeply confused. That broke the wall. After that, everything became easier. You talked more. Shared dumb jokes. Started watching random shows together at night while Jisung made running commentary like: “If they kiss now I’m suing.” “I relate to this character deeply. He’s tired and scared and emotionally repressed. Sexy.” You noticed he was actually really smart. Quick-witted. Sensitive. And kind. Like the kind of kind that doesn’t make a show of it, he just does things. He once quietly fixed your phone charger without telling you. Left sticky notes on your notebook when you had a stressful day. Learned how to make your favorite comfort food just in case. But he never crossed a line. Never forced closeness. Just waited. Patiently. Softly. Then, one rainy night, you found him asleep on the couch. Hugging a pillow. Mumbling in his sleep: “Y/N… don’t leave…” You froze. The next morning, he woke up to you making breakfast. He shuffled into the kitchen, hair a mess, eyes still puffy. “Morning…” You turned around. “Why would I leave?” He blinked. “Wait. Huh?” You walked up, poked his chest gently. “You were talking in your sleep. You said not to leave.” Jisung turned red in real-time. “I—I—NO I—THAT WAS A DREAM—NO—IT WAS A QUOTE—I WAS REHEARSING A LINE—IT’S FOR A PLAY—SHAKESPEARE. YEAH.” You laughed and kissed his cheek. He stopped breathing. You whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, “I think I love you.” Then screamed into a pillow.

Now? Jisung still panics over toast. Still practices conversations in the shower. Still dramatically falls to the floor if you compliment him too sincerely. But he also wraps his arms around you at night like he never wants to let go. Says “I love you” like it’s a reflex. Like it’s the air he breathes. Your marriage may have been arranged. But the love? That part was his choice. And every single day, he keeps choosing you awkwardly, dramatically, wholeheartedly.

FELIX

Felix – (aka sunshine husband who has no idea how to act cold so he just gives you cookies instead) You expected a lot of things from an arranged marriage. tension, silence, maybe even mild resentment. What you didn’t expect was a man with a literal Tupperware container of homemade brownies on your wedding night, shyly holding them out like a peace offering.“Hi… um. I baked these. I don’t know how to start conversations so… chocolate?” You stared at him. He stared back, looking like a golden retriever that got dropped into a corporate meeting by accident. The beginning was awkward, of course. You weren’t strangers, but you weren’t close either. You tiptoed around each other in the house, always polite, always a bit too careful like roommates who accidentally got married and didn’t want to make it weird. Felix, for his part, was trying. So hard. Too hard, honestly. He’d overthink everything. “Do you want me to knock before entering the kitchen?” “Is it okay if I call you… uh… your name?” “I organized the pantry alphabetically. Is that weird? Should I undo it?” You: “I just wanted cereal.” But then came the baking. It started small, a cookie here, a muffin there. Then suddenly it was “surprise banana bread Tuesday” and “midnight croissant therapy.” You’d wake up to little notes by the coffee machine: “Today might be rough, so I made cinnamon rolls. You got this.” “Don’t forget to eat, okay? There’s matcha cake in the fridge. Love, not-so-legally-your-husband.” And that’s the thing about Felix. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He just cared. Genuinely, openly, maybe even recklessly. You caught feelings faster than you were willing to admit. How were you supposed to not fall for the man who learned your coffee order by week two, remembered your deadlines better than you did, and looked at you like the sun was doing him a personal favor by existing through you? Still, neither of you really acknowledged the shift. He stayed sweet. You stayed guarded. And your house became this soft little bubble of tension-filled domesticity, where nothing happened but everything was happening. Then one night, you had a breakdown. Work was suffocating, your family was pressuring you about the marriage, and you just… snapped. You stormed into the kitchen, tired and overwhelmed, and finally said it: “This wasn’t supposed to be real, okay? You weren’t supposed to be nice. You weren’t supposed to make me feel like this was a home.” Felix looked like you’d punched him in the chest. Slowly, he set down the cake batter he was mixing. “…Do you want it to be real?” You: “What?” “This marriage. Us. I… I know we didn’t choose this. But I wake up and think about you. I go to sleep hoping you had a good day. I bake because it’s the only way I know how to show you that I care without scaring you off.” You didn’t say anything. He smiled, sad and small. “I didn’t want to make this harder for you. But if being nice made it worse, I’ll stop—” You kissed him. You pulled back. “Sorry. Was that—” “Do it again.” Now? Felix still bakes at 2 a.m. Still writes notes on the fridge. Still organizes the pantry like a spreadsheet. But he also kisses your temple before you leave the house. Holds your hand during grocery runs like he’s afraid to let go. Whispers, “I know we didn’t choose this but if I had to do it again, I’d still choose you.” The marriage might’ve started with a contract. But the love? That came frosted, warm, and wrapped in a Tupperware full of effort. And you’ve been choosing him back ever since.

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin – (aka the emotionally constipated husband who shows affection by roasting you into submission) You didn’t expect him to be warm. Honestly, you would’ve been suspicious if he was. Seungmin greeted you on your wedding day with a polite nod and the emotional availability of a tax form. No smile. No small talk. Just a: “I’ll take the guest room. Don’t leave your dishes in the sink.” Romantic. At first, it was like living with a very tidy ghost who silently judged you for breathing too loud. You tried initiating conversation, but all you got were one-word replies: “Good morning.” “…Morning.” “How was work?” “Fine.” “Do you need anything from the store?” “Decency.” You were this close to throwing a pillow at him. Or a toaster. Whichever was closer. But you noticed something strange. Despite the deadpan sarcasm and constant eye-rolling, he… listened. Mentioned once that you liked strawberry yogurt? Magically appeared in the fridge. Said you had a meeting on Thursday? He reminded you like a snarky Google calendar. Offhandedly said your back hurt? There was a hot pack on your desk the next morning. But when you tried to thank him, he’d brush it off with: “I didn’t do it for you. I just hate hearing you complain.” Uh-huh. Sure. Over time, the silence shifted. It didn’t feel tense anymore just… calm. Comfortable, even. You started eating meals at the same time. Watching the same dramas on opposite ends of the couch. Bickering like a married couple without actually being one. You: “You know, if you smiled once in a while, you’d be kind of cute.” Seungmin: “If you talked less, I might live longer.” You: “You love me.” Seungmin: “Blink twice if you’re hallucinating.” But he didn’t move away when you scooted closer on the couch. Didn’t object when you started doing laundry together. Didn’t stop you when you fell asleep on his shoulder one night and mumbled, “Don’t leave.” He just sat there, tense for a moment… then relaxed, and whispered, almost too softly to hear: “I won’t.” That was the beginning. One night, you found him in the kitchen at 1 a.m., making ramen and quietly humming. You padded over in your socks, leaned against the counter, and mumbled, “Did you ever want this? Us?” He didn’t look at you right away. “No.” Ouch. “But now that I have it… I don’t want anyone else.” You blinked. “That was weirdly romantic for you.” He shoved a spoonful of ramen into your mouth. “Shut up before I take it back.” Now? Seungmin still teases you mercilessly. Still roasts you in front of your own plants. Still rolls his eyes when you do something mildly annoying and mutters, “This is why I should’ve married a cactus.” But he also tucks you in when you fall asleep on the couch. Picks up your favorite snacks without being asked. Keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist and pretends it’s not a big deal. He’s not loud with love. Not obvious. Not flowery. But he’s consistent. And in the end, being loved by Seungmin feels like this: No grand speeches. No dramatic confessions. Just someone who stays. Quietly, steadily. And never lets go.

JEONGIN

Jeongin –(aka the flustered baby husband who talks back but blushes when you talk nice) Jeongin walked into the arranged marriage like a man headed to war. Not dramatic at all. Except he was dramatic about it. Silently, of course. He was young, successful, trying to prove himself in his field and suddenly he was being told, “Surprise! You’re getting married to someone you barely know. Smile for the wedding photos!” He did not smile. He grimaced. Your first few days of married life were… quiet. Not hostile, just awkward. You felt like you were both house-sitting the same apartment with unspoken rules and polite small talk. You’d pass each other in the hallway like coworkers forced onto the same project. “Hey.” “Hey.” “Did you eat?” “Kind of. You?” “Cool.” Silence. But Jeongin wasn’t cold just reserved. You caught him staring sometimes. Not in a creepy way. More like he was trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to be a husband when he still googled how to fix a leaky faucet and forgot to switch his laundry. He wasn’t emotionally constipated just emotionally under construction. And then the sarcasm kicked in. Jeongin, once he got comfortable, became the king of side-eyes and muttered jabs. “Oh wow, you’re cooking? Should I call the fire department now or later?” “You fell asleep watching that drama again. I took a picture. It’s blackmail now.” “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I have to like your taste in socks.” But you noticed something interesting. He’d grumble when you asked him to do something but he’d still do it. He’d tease you for being forgetful but he never forgot your schedule. He’d pretend to be too cool but blushed like crazy when you complimented his shirt. And when you started teasing him back? Oh, he short-circuited. You: “You look good today, husband.” Jeongin: blinking rapidly “Wh—pft—I—shut up.” You: “Are you blushing?” Jeongin: “NO. You’re just standing near something red.” You: “i’m standing next to you.” Jeongin: “……” It became a routine. Casual affection buried in banter. Emotional intimacy hiding behind post-it notes and shared ramen bowls at midnight. He made a habit of waiting for you to get home before he went to bed. You made a habit of telling him everything you liked about him just to watch him get flustered. Eventually, something changed. One night, you were curled up on opposite ends of the couch, and you casually asked, “Do you still wish this never happened?” He stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then, without looking at you: “At first, yeah. I thought it’d ruin my life.” Pause. “…But then you walked in. And you didn’t try to change me. You just… stayed. And now, I don’t know what I’d do if you left.” You looked at him, heart thumping. He turned to you, cheeks pink. “This is the only time I’m being soft. If you bring this up tomorrow, I’ll deny everything.” You didn’t bring it up. But you did kiss him. And he kissed you back like someone who finally figured out what home felt like. Now? Jeongin still talks back. Still gets flustered when you say “my husband” too easily. Still pretends he’s too cool to cuddle until he’s asleep on your chest with his hand fisted in your hoodie like a security blanket. He’ll tease you in public. Laugh at your clumsiness. Say things like: “Wow, imagine marrying someone like you.” And when you pout, he’ll smirk and lean in real close. “…Lucky me.” He might not have chosen this at the beginning. But he’s choosing you now every single day.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery

[bradleysass]

gaze - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 878

It wasn’t unusual for James to call. It wasn’t unusual for James to call too much. But tonight—tonight was something else.

Regulus stepped out of the shower, toweling his hair dry, and stared at his phone screen. 20 missed calls.

19 from James.

1 from Sirius.

A message from Sirius waiting at the bottom:

"Reggie look at this puppy dog gaze at his phone waiting for you to answer."

Attached: a photo of James, sprawled on Sirius’s couch, cheeks flushed, holding his phone with both hands and staring at the screen like it held the answers to the universe.

Regulus sighed. And pressed play.

Voicemail 1: "Reg? REGULUS. Oh, it’s the beep already. Okay. So. Pick up."

Voicemail 2: "You’re not picking up. Okay. But. I just wanna say… I saw a cat that looked like you? Not, like, in a bad way. It was regal. And pretty. And aloof. Anyway. Call me."

Voicemail 3: "REGULUS. Regulus. Reggie. Black. Mister Black. You remember when you used to make me tea after Quidditch practice? You made it too strong on purpose. I know you did. I forgave you. Call me back."

Voicemail 4: "Okay, but, like. Seriously. Why didn’t we work? I mean, we did work. We worked so well! Like, so well. Everyone said so. Except maybe Sirius. But he doesn’t count. Or he does. I dunno. Call me."

Voicemail 5: "I’m not calling to get back together. Promise. PROMISE. Just… like. I need to hear your voice? Is that bad? That’s bad. I’m sorry. Ignore this. Unless you wanna call me back."

Voicemail 6: "Reggie. Sirius said I’m cut off but I snuck another Firewhisky. Don’t be mad. Are you mad? I miss your mad face. It was cute. Like when your nose does the thing. You know the thing. Ugh. Call me."

Voicemail 7: "You ever think about that holiday? That one in Greece? With the scooter? And you screamed the whole time because I couldn’t drive? I still have the helmet. It smells like your shampoo. I’m not weird, I swear."

Voicemail 8: "Regulus. REGULUS. I had a dream last week. You were in it. But you were a swan. And you bit me. What does that mean? Please respond."

Voicemail 9: "Did you know Lily still asks about you? She’s like, ‘How’s Reggie?’ and I’m like, ‘He’s fine, probably.’ But are you fine? Are you really fine? Because if you’re not I can be there in like, five minutes. Maybe ten. Definitely less than fifteen."

Voicemail 10: "I just wanna say… I’m proud of you. You’re doing so good. Even if you think you’re not. I see it. You’re so strong. And smart. And pretty. Like, stupid pretty. Sorry. Okay. Next voicemail will be more normal."

Voicemail 11: "...okay this one isn’t normal. I lied. BUT. Do you remember when you first let me sleep over at your flat? And you were all nervous but pretended you weren’t? And you gave me that pillow? I still have it. It’s the comfiest pillow. Like. Ever."

Voicemail 12: "I know we said we wouldn’t call each other when we’re drinking. But technically I didn’t promise. So I think it doesn’t count? Right? Right? Anyway. Hi."

Voicemail 13: "If you could be any fruit what would you be? Sirius says you’d be a pomegranate because you’re mysterious and hard to open. I think you’re more like a peach. Soft. Sweet. Little fuzzy. Heh. Okay. Call me back."

Voicemail 14: "Regulus Black. You beautiful, brilliant disaster. I hope you’re happy. You deserve happy. Even if it’s not with me. But also like. Maybe it could still be with me? Someday? Don’t answer that. Actually answer it. Or don’t. Fuck. I dunno."

Voicemail 15: "Sirius is yelling at me to stop calling you. I told him no. He threw a pillow at me. It missed. He’s bad at aiming. Haha. I won. Call me back."

Voicemail 16: "You know what? I’m glad we’re friends. I really am. You’re my best friend. You always will be. I just… sometimes I forget we’re not more. And then it hits me like a bludger to the face. But I’m okay. Just wanted you to know."

Voicemail 17: "Do you remember that song we used to dance to? It came on tonight. I almost called you right then but Sirius stole my phone. Rude. But now I got it back. And I’m calling you. Obviously. Call me back, Reggie."

Voicemail 18: "Reggie I think I’m gonna regret these voicemails tomorrow. But also not. Because they’re honest. And I mean every word. You’re amazing. And I love you. Not like… like. But also like. You know? Yeah. You know."

Voicemail 19: "Last one. I promise. Unless it’s not. But it is. I’m gonna stop now. I’m gonna go to sleep. Sirius says he’ll throw water on me if I don’t. Goodnight, Regulus. Sweet dreams. Love you."

Regulus stared at his phone. He didn’t hit call right away. But he smiled.

Then he opened the message thread, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

"Tell him I’ll call him tomorrow. And that I’m glad he still has the pillow."

And with that, Regulus set the phone down. And for the first time in weeks, slept soundly.

[kilojulietsierra]

The scene with Ellis asking about the REBOA reminds me of when kids get older and they sit at the adult table and hear all the gossip.

Ellis is definitely Jack’s favorite resident. They have a caring but tough love attitude.

In Jack/Sam world, Ellis is like a younger sister to them and is invited over for holidays if she can’t make it to her family.

Ok so I put this all down stream of consciousness on my lunch break so if it’s weird so be it lol I had fun and that’s what matters!

If you haven’t already check out the other fics I have from this little universe I’ve created!

Save Me From Myself - Masterlist

- Night shift people were night shift people and day shift people were boring as hell. In Parker’s opinion. Day shifters were a little too type a, too put together, too buttoned up and by the book for her taste

- She’d struggled on days. Other residents took things too personally, too much micromanaging, too many patients with toe sprains and head colds asking for doctors notes

- Jack had covered a day shift for Robby and Parker had recognized it in him almost immediately. It was like the night shift attending wanted to crawl out of his skin anytime he thought someone wasn’t looking

- Parker had presented a case to Dr Abbot while he slouched back in one of the desk chairs. She had mumbled not really meaning for him to hear, but not meaning for him to not hear it either “probably don’t get all these pansies on nights. Nobody wants to come in at 3am just so they can get out of work”

- Jack had raised his brows at her tone, “keep in mind Dr Ellis, a lot of the patients in chairs at 3am have been there since shift change” he stood up and caught her eye as he went to step past. He dropped his voice with a smirk, “but, 3am is definitely when all the weirdos come out to play” then he had walked away

- That day there had been a mvc on one of the bridges, a car with 3 occupants had gone through the rail and into the water. Parker had fought to be on the first gurney through the door and Jack had noticed.

- He’d actually noticed a few things about Parker Ellis

- By the end of that shift he caught her by the lockers, “talk to Robby tomorrow. If you want to switch shifts, I’ll sign off”

- If Robby was the sarcastic and goofy but lovable father figure, Jack was the slightly weird, scary until you get to know him, uncle that would teach you how to make grenades out of a bouncy ball and an m80 firecracker

- Parker thrived on night shift w/ Jack. She had her moments sure, she doesn’t know everything, yet, but she’s a hard worker and admits when she’s wrong. She never shies away from Jack pushing her out of her depth. She figured out quick that if Jack didn’t push it was because he didn’t think you could handle it. And that made Parker want it more.

- Jack noticed. Jack liked it. Robby always tried to be fair, tried to never play favorites. Jack didn’t give a fuck, he absolutely played favorites.

- Being Dr Abbots favorite came with unexpected perks.

- Emails with a link and the simple explanation of “read this”

- The hard eye contact and nod when he took a step back “go ahead Dr Ellis”

- “You got this”

- Dr Walsh and Dr Abbot talking to each other in front of Trauma 2 and then Dr Walsh calls out “Ellis, wanna scrub in?” Parker looked to Jack who just gave her the tiniest nod. “Yes ma’am!” Dr Walsh and Abbot exchanged a little smirk and then Walsh was out the door “hustle up before I change my mind!”

- “What’s this?” Ellis looked at the white can of Monster that appeared on the desk in front of her. Jack shrugged “you don’t drink coffee so i grabbed you one of those. Wife drinks the same flavor. Shits terrible for you.”

- Shen bounced on his toes trying to peak over Jacks shoulder as he opened the Yeti lunchbox. “Tacoooos” Parker tried to see “tacos?” Jack looked up as he handed Shen a handful of foil wrapped tacos. “Sam dropped lunch off.” Before she even had time to be bummed Jack pulled out another handful and held them out to her, “Didn’t know what you’d want, she made brisket and fajita chicken.” When she looked confused he waved them in front of her “if you don’t want yours, boy wonder the garbage disposal probably does” he nodded towards Shen. Ellis takes them still cautious, “mine?” Abbot stared back at her, “yeah, yours. Eat fast.”

- The tacos are bomb.

- “going home for thanksgiving?” Jack asked as everyone packed up to leave. “Nah, tickets home are a bitch this time of year.” Ellis shrugs, “just be me and whatever takeout I can track down”

- Jack paused with a hint of a scowl like that was unacceptable “come to the house” “what?” He shrugged “we eat at like five, come over whenever though” Ellis just blinked “doc that’s really generous but you don’t have to” Jack gives her a look like it’s no big deal “Sam and I don’t have family around, so we have friends over. Robby will be there, Walsh, think Garcia is coming and bringing a new girlfriend so that’ll be fun.(sarcasm) Few of the girls Sam works with, neighbors, couple army buddies flew in for the weekend.” He looks up from his phone and smirks when he says “don’t look so scared, it’s not a trap.” Her phone vibrates in her hand with an address. Jack gives her a fist bump as he walks bye “Sam goes all out on the food just sayin’. Oh and if you do come don’t worry about dressing up or anything, we don’t do that”

- Her first thanksgiving with the abbots had been a trip.

- Parker felt a little bit like when she had turned 12 and her folks had let her sit at the grown up table the first time. Because Parker’s a grown up sure, she’s got responsibilities, but the people in this house for thanksgiving are like LEGIT grown ups.

- The house is awesome

- Jack and Sam are like in LOVE love and not shy about it, it’s strange at first but cute and encouraging. #goals

- Robby, Dr Michael Robinavitch ED Chief, gets tipsy and that man has some stories to share

- Everyone talks loud, over the top of each other and laughing. So much laughing.

- Sharing weird and outrageous ER stories because half the people there work in emergency. Pictures included

- Garcia and Walsh are actually nice to Ellis, which gives her a little whiplash but they’re fun and she likes them

- The dinner table is packed with food and people and she thinks it’s exactly how thanksgiving should feel

- She begins to wonder if everyone forgot she and Garcia were technically students because nobody Is treating them like they were. There just part of the gang

- Apparently Sam, Garcia and Walsh are friends. Like tight friends, like the kind that are basically sisters

- Ellis gets invited to girls night, “but don’t tell Jack”

- Everyone hangs out after dinner for drinks and Ellis is living for it

- One of Jacks army buddies makes a joke “if I’d been conscious we all know she would have picked me over Abbot” Parker thinks an argument might breakout but Jack just laughs into his whiskey glass and pulls Sam a little closer, “motherfucker you weren’t unconscious you were dead! I was pumping your heart for you” the guy laughs and rubs at his chest as Jack adds mumbled into his glass, “remember I can stop it just as easy”

- Walsh laughs from her seat on the floor, “first threat of homicide, now it feels like the family holidays I remember!”

- Parker stays to help clean up even though they told her not to worry

- Sam gives her a smile at one point while loading the dishwasher “you know you’re his favorite right?”

- When Sam finds out Ellis is from Long Beach she freaks out “you’re joking! I’m from Carmel Valley, like 2 hours south”

- “You know if you ever need anything you can call? Either of us okay?”

- Ellis can tell she means it

- She sends her home with leftovers, so many leftovers. Bomb ass leftovers.

- After that she spent every thanksgiving with them, it was tradition

- Ellis was beyond grateful she had switched to nights, where she belonged

- Because yeah Abbot was hard on her but she was a better doctor for it

- He also would change the oil in her car when he found out it was 2k miles overdue

- Abbot might pull her off a case for messing up, but he would still let her run point on the next one

- If Ellis had a rough night, almost without fail, she’d get a text from Sam the next morning to set up coffee or brunch

- Ellis had smiled to herself on Dr Kings first official night shift. It was fun to be on the outside looking in. To see Jack do what he does best.

- Because Ellis had been the R2 that just hadn’t felt like she belonged on dayshift

- So every time she saw that big smile and little bounce in Mel’s step after Dr Abbot gave her a “nicely done Dr King”, Ellis smiled to herself and wondered how in the hell Sam was going two fit 2 more chairs at thanksgiving dinner this year

[dantes-jacket]

Chill weekends with you

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: request #4!! After a long hard week, Dante makes your weekend fun and relaxing for a nice break! So so so much fluff. I made him make a pillow fort and the more I think about it, he would 100% make one ;)

Work has been nothing but hectic this week. Between emails, meetings, annoying coworkers, many due dates came up, new projects getting assigned, and so much more things to keep you busy. Working every day this week has been truly a drag.

You see the eye bags under your eyes and feel the complete exhaustion your body is dealing with right now. You’re dragging yourself back to Devil May Cry. All you want to do is cuddle and sleep with your boyfriend.

Dante the king of not relaxing. Even when he isn’t out hunting demons he’s not resting. He’s always moving around and on his feet. The man can’t sit still. You’re hoping you can have his hyper self actually rest with you instead of running around.

You finally get back home and head inside. You then see the massive creation Dante made while you were gone.

“I’m home.” You call out hoping that you will find the creator of this masterpiece in front of you.

Dante peaks his head out from his creation and lights up seeing you. “You’re back!” He jumps up and run over to you. “Look I made a pillow fort! I even set it up so we can sleep down here tonight for a relaxing movie night. I also went to the store to get a bunch of snacks like popcorn and ice cream.”

Seeing his childlike excitement over the pillow fort makes all the stress you’ve felt this week melt off of you. “It looks great handsome. Let me go change and we can start a movie.”

You head up stairs and change into some sweatpants and one of Dante’s hoodies. Even in comfy clothes you feel so much relaxed compared to the endless anxiety you were having this week.

You walk back downstairs to see Dante crawling into the fort with a big bowl of popcorn and two bowls of ice cream. You giggle and follow behind him. He really wasn’t joking, he took his time with this. The inside is massive and has a big comfy set up with a perfect view of the tv.

You slide under a blanket and cuddle up to Dante. You two agree on a movie and dig into the snacks. Both of you started with the bowls of ice cream then moved to the popcorn.

Watching movies with Dante is interesting because he wants to know every single detail but he’s always talking and missing key points. Which makes you have to rewind the movie to make sure you two don’t miss anything and that is happening right now.

“Come on the cousin has to be the killer! Why else would he be so freaked out to let the cops check his basement? That screams sus to me.”

“Dante baby they just said why he doesn’t want them in the basement.”

“WAIT REALLY!!!? Give me the remote I gotta rewind it.”

You shake your head and wrap both arms around him trying to keep him as close as you can. You’re starting to get a little cold and this man is your personal heater. Dante rewinds and pauses, “You cold?”

You nod in response and that has Dante shift behind you. He pulls your back again his chest. He uses the blanket you’re under and covers the both of you. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder, “Better?”

“Much better. You’re like my personal heater.”

Dante lets out a deep chuckle and you feel it against your back. Hearing him laugh is one of your favorite sounds in the entire world. Dante starts up the movie again and focuses deeply this time. He won’t miss any more important details in this movie.

With the much added warmth you’re starting to feel super sleepy. You lean back more into Dante and close your eyes. You tell yourself it’s only going to be for a second. Then you slip into a deep sleep.

Dante feels you lay on him more so he looks down to see you asleep. He smiles lightly and brushes some hair out of your face. He knows it’s been a long week for you so he wanted to make sure this weekend is super relaxing for you.

He turns off the tv and shimmies down with you still on top of him. You snuggle into him more once he’s lying down and it makes his heart flutter. You look so small in his arms but you’re so adorable. He places a kiss on your hairline then falls into a deep sleep himself.

The next morning you wake up before Dante. Your back is facing his chest still. You spin around trying not to wake him up. Once you’re facing him you trace his features. You start with his eyebrows, then run it down his nose and end off at his jaw. You keep repeating this for a couple more minutes until your arm gets tired.

“Why’d you stoppppp,” Dante whines.

You kiss the tip of his nose and ignore his question. “Wanna make some pancakes?”

“Let’s cuddle a bit longer than we can.”

You two lay in the fort just running your hands softly over each other’s bodies. It’s rare you two get to do this and take time to yourselves and enjoy the moment. His life is very much go go go and never waiting too long. So when you two actually get to rest like this, it’s refreshing.

Dante’s stomach then growls and you laugh. “I guess it’s time for pancakes now.”

“Ah how’d you know?”

Going along with his sarcasm, “I took a guess, turns out I got lucky.”

You two get up and head out the fort. Making your way to the kitchen you get the ingredients out while Dante sets up the stove. With you two tag teaming breakfast is done and served quickly.

You cut up some strawberries to throw on top of the pancakes while also pouring maple syrup on them. You were more conservative with the toppings compared to Dante, you can barely see his pancakes.

“What?” He asks with a mouth full of food.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” You smack his shoulder. “Anyways do you want to make cookies today? I got all the stuff last weekend but ended up getting too busy.”

“Sure sounds fun to me. But don’t be mad when I eat all the dough.”

You roll your eyes and go back to eating. Once you’re finished you take your plates and put them in the dishwasher. When you’re finished you start to get all the stuff for the cookies out.

You’re just going to keep it simple and make some sugar cookies along with some vanilla frosting. “Dante can you make the frosting? With your strength you’ll be able to make it perfectly.”

“Sure can baby. Just give me the directions and I’ll do it.” You hand the recipe over and slide the stuff he needs over to him.

You start with mixing the wet ingredients together. While they are mixing in the mixer you get a bowl to mix all of the dry ingredients together. Once both ingredients are mixed separately, you start adding the dry to the wet. You let them mix until they are fully combined.

You look over to Dante who is just finishing up the frosting. You’re thankful for his insane strength because you would be mixing the frosting for a long time until it got to how it needed to be.

He finishes and turns to you proudly showing you the frosting in the bowl. “Look! It’s looks delicious.”

“Good job. It looks great. Let’s form these into balls and then we can bake them!”

Dante walks over and takes half of the dough. You two tag team again and get the dough split evenly onto two cookie sheets. You take the cookie sheets and slide them into the oven Dante opened for you.

Once they’re in you walk over to take a taste test of the frosting. You dip a finger into the bowl and pick some of it up then put it into your mouth.

“No fair I didn’t even try it yet and I made it!”

You look at him and catch him lying. You can see some frosting on the edge of his mouth. “Mhm sure, I can see the frosting on the side of your mouth liar.”

Dante is quick to swipe at his lips then marches over. You dip some of your fingers back into the frosting then turn around once Dante got closer. You wipe the frosting on his face and watch him freeze.

Dante’s eyes widen by the sudden attack of frosting against him. He licks most of it off since it mainly ended on his lips. “You little shit.” He reaches out for you and you dart out of the kitchen. You hear him hot on your tail.

You run around the dining room table then to his desk. You two stand on opposite sides and he uses his height to lean over and try to grab you. You duck and miss his hands then run off into the living room.

You keep running until you are tackled onto the ground that is covered in pillows from the fort. He spins you around so you’re lying on your back and looking up at him. He takes both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above you.

Dante then leans down and kisses you. He moves his lips, tongue, and face to make sure he wipes the frosting all over you. It’s a mix of vanilla frosting and salvia. You never knew you’d like that mix but hey you learn new things everyday.

Dante pulls back once he feels like he got you messy enough. He sees you covered in frosting and salvia glistening off your lips, he can’t stop himself from laughing. It’s another deep on like he let out last night. Yet he’s throwing his head back and laughing even harder.

You start laughing along with him because he’s just so goofy. His laugh is a true treasure from this world. You’re blessed you get to hear it from him often.

“You’re a little messy babe.”

“Well I could say the same thing about you.”

Dante goes to lean back in for another kiss but the oven goes off. You push his chest indicating him to get up so you can check the cookies. He pouts but does what you silently asked.

You walk back into the kitchen and open the oven. You look at the cookies and you see them golden brown indicating they’re done. You grab pot holders and pull the cookie sheets out. You place them on the counter to let them cool before you decorate them.

You first wipe your face off of all the frosting that was smeared onto it. You get out some knives to decorate the cookies with then plates to place the frosted cookies on. By the time you have the frosting station all the set up the cookies are done cooling.

You and Dante frost cookies for about forty five minutes. Once you’re done Dante holds out a cookie to you. You go to grab it but he pulls it back, “No let me feed you.”

You relent and lean forward for him to feed you. You take a bite and moan, “This is soooo good!”

“I know something better,” Dante says with a smirk. You shake your head and go back for another bite. You finish the cookie and hold one out to him. He takes the whole cookie in one big bite. You shake your head at him and reach for another cookie. You two end up watching another movie and eating all the cookies while falling asleep again in the pillow fort.

The next day Dante wakes up before you. He kisses your forehead then sneaks out of the fort. He heads to the kitchen to make some breakfast sandwiches for you two. He hopes he can get it done it time so you don’t have to lift a finger.

Dante cookies the eggs and bacon fast. The bagels he put in the toaster pop up when he’s finished making the stuff on the stove. He starts assembling the sandwiches. He starts with one bottom of the bagel then puts the eggs, cheese, bacon and tops it off with the top of the bagel. He repeats the process for the next sandwich. He remembers there’s still cut up strawberries from yesterday so he throws some of those on each plate and head over to the fort.

He places the plates on the ground then lightly shakes your shoulder, “Baby I made breakfast.”

You groan while sitting up, you then stretch and look at him. He’s giving you the softest and boyish smile you can imagine. He hands out the plate and you two dig in. You two talk between bites on how your weeks are going to look like. You should have an easy work week but it seems like Dante is going to be busy with a couple different missions. But at least they still keep him in town so you’ll still see him.

You two finish up and sadly look at each other. You knew what today meant. It meant reset and getting ready for the next week. You two silently get up and place the plates next to the sink. You’ll come back to do the dishes later because right now you two are going to shower together first.

After a quick shower you two are back downstairs getting ready to clean everything up. Before you start Dante turns on some music so you two aren’t working in silence.

You two decide to start in the kitchen first because that’s where most of the mess is. You decide to do the dishes while Dante wipes down the countertop and cleans all the appliances.

While you’re cleaning Dante sings along with the songs and dances around the kitchen. Seeing him so carefree and letting loose is something rare. Yeah he’s goofy and silly most of the time but he’s still always around of his surroundings and always on guard. Seeing him not have to worry about anything is so fun to see because he just lets out so much positive energy.

You finish before Dante does so you help him by finishing wiping down the counter while he finishes cleaning the stovetop. You two finally finish in the kitchen the head over to the living room. It’s sadly time to take down the fort.

You start with the blankets and fold them while Dante gathers all the pillows and makes piles on where they go. You end up doing the same so it’s a smooth transition putting them away. Once everything is sorted in its piles you two put everything away in its respective areas.

Once everything is clean you head back into the living room releasing a content sigh. You then feel hands on your waist then a blur until you see Dante standing in front of you. He holds out his hand, “Dance with me.”

You grab his hand and follow his wacky movements. It’s not like you two are dancing to a slow classical song, you two are dancing to a rock song. You try to follow his crazy lead but he’s going with the flow and you don’t know how to keep up. This is truly a workout out keeping up with him.

After dancing to a couple songs you flop down on the couch. You lay on your back facing the ceiling. You take deep breaths trying to steady your breathing from that crazy dance session.

Dante then gets on the couch and hovers over you. He leans his head close so that your noses are touching. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You run your hand through his white hair and brushing out any knots that came to be while dancing. “Thank you for making this a fun weekend. I had a great time. Relaxing with you is so nice.”

“It really was fun. I’m glad you had such a great time.” He presses a loving kiss to your lips and slightly pulls back to the point your lips are almost touching, “I love you.”

You place a hand on his chest above his heart and draw a little heart with your finger, “I love you too Dante.”

@whatdoesthevixensay

[bombiikki]

𐙚⋆.˚　────  let me drive my van (into ur heart) °｡⋆⸜

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ – lee hyein x fem!reader !!

synopsis: hyein is tall, funny, smart, she’s an idol, but most importantly—she’s your childhood best friend. you’re not that tall, or smart, and you’re definitely not rich. but, you have a van—even if it is your dad’s van. 

contains: hella fluff. can be interpreted as platonic, minus the fact theyre basically on a date, and the fact they basically confessed, ok so its not platonic i lied, reader doesnt even have a license yet, minji makes an appearance!!, just short and fluff

wc: 3.7k!!

a/n: i once said and i quote “im on a mission to revive njz blr” and so thats why im dropping ANOTHER NJZ FIC IN THE SAME WEEK!!! everyone clap… please… ive also had this idea for a while i js never got to it cuz i was working on the spidey x hanni fic anwyays enjoy chat!!

♪ ༘⋆ now playing – let me drive my van (into your heart) from steven universe

you didn’t need a driver’s license to fall in love.

but you did need a van.

and you had one—technically. it wasn’t yours, strictly speaking. it was your dad’s old clunky beast that groaned like a tired dragon every time it started. it smelled like gasoline and pine-scented air fresheners from 2009. one of the windows didn’t roll down all the way. but it was yours in spirit, in history, in the way it carried your whole childhood in its seats.

the van was parked crooked under the streetlight. it leaned a little to one side, always had. there was a rust stain near the back bumper and two old stickers peeling off the rear window—one of a dinosaur and one of a shooting star. the engine hadn’t run in three days, but it didn’t need to. you weren’t going anywhere.

not physically, at least.

you sat in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel, pretending the van was in motion. feet barely brushing the pedals. seatbelt long-forgotten. beside you, hyein lounged across the passenger seat with a pillow under her arms and a pack of sour gummies on her lap. the setting sun poured gold over her like some soft-glow filter you didn’t ask for but gladly accepted. her smile was lazy, tucked into the corner of her mouth like it wasn’t even aware of how it made your heart do actual cartwheels.

the radio didn’t work anymore, but she hummed something quietly. it sounded like the theme song to a cartoon you used to watch together—sweet and out-of-tune. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t have to.

it had been her idea to come out here again. same van, same spot at the end of the street. same snacks. just the two of you, like it used to be. you’d almost said no, scared it wouldn’t feel the same. scared you’d grown too much or changed too quietly.

but when she texted:

bring the van and me

you went. obviously.

“you know,” she said, voice half-buried in the pillow cradled beneath her chin, “you still don’t have your license.”

your fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel—cracked vinyl warm beneath your palms, like it remembered every time you pretended just like this. like it still believed you.

“yet,” you said, eyes fixed on the windshield, like if you stared long enough the world might open up ahead. “i’m manifesting it.”

she snorted softly, the sound low and fond. “you’ve been manifesting since we were ten.”

you turned your head toward her, heart knocking gently against your ribs. she was half-glowing in the last of the sunlight, the kind of quiet golden that made you feel like you were looking at something rare.

“and has it failed me?” you asked.

“you still don’t have a license.”

“minor inconvenience,” you grinned, like a secret, like a dream half-formed.

she laughed. a real one, all teeth and light. it poured into the tiny van like sunshine through an open window.

“god, you’re hopeless.”

you didn’t answer right away. just looked at her again, like you were memorising the way she existed. the way her hair fell into her eyes, the way her voice settled in your bones.

“you love it,” you said.

“i never said that.”

you smiled. “you didn’t have to.”

she rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her. the smallest twitch at the corners. the kind that said yes without needing to speak.

the silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was soft. full of every shared moment stitched between now and all your yesterdays. it felt like the kind of quiet that only belonged to two people who knew how to sit inside it without feeling like something had to be said.

you leaned your head against the seat. “i’m almost eighteen, you know. sooner or later, i’m gonna get that license.”

“almost eighteen,” she echoed, teasing. “i’m still younger. and taller.”

you groaned. “that’s criminal.”

“that’s biology,” she said, smug.

you reached into the back, fingers brushing past a crumpled hoodie and the crumbs of old snacks.

“one day, i’m gonna drive this van. like really drive it. and you’ll be sorry.”

she sat up then, the movement slow and sleepy. her hair stuck up on one side from the pillow, and her eyes looked at you like they had something to say before her mouth could.

“i’m not sorry now,” she said.

your breath caught. the kind of stillness that only happens when something inside you shifts, quiet and sure.

she’d noticed, of course. her gaze lingered just long enough to say she knew. but she didn’t tease, didn’t pry. she just leaned back again with the ease of someone who already felt at home here, with you. like she didn’t need an answer right away.

you reached for something safe to say. “the van’s falling apart.”

“so are most of my favorite things,” she said, without even thinking.

your van had been a spaceship once—its wheel a portal, its seats a cockpit, the stars just out of reach behind the fogged-up windows. it had been a castle with velvet curtains made from old blankets, a hotel where your names were written in crayon on imaginary check-in sheets, a submarine where you whispered through paper towel tubes and listened for sea monsters in the silence.

it had been a stage, too, bouncing with laughter as hyein made you dance across the cushions in mismatched socks, choreographing routines she insisted were "award-worthy."

it had been a hideout the night she cried into your sleeve after her first audition—when her voice cracked and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and she needed somewhere to fall apart that still felt like home.

and it had been a tent, once. the power had gone out in a summer storm, and your dad had let you sleep out in the driveway, your pillows piled high and a flashlight glowing between you like a campfire.

now it was just a van. but somehow, still everything.

“you know what the best part is?” she asked, resting her chin on her knees.

you glanced over. “what?”

“this thing. it’s always here. always waiting.”

you swallowed. “yeah.”

you didn’t say you felt the same about her.

your phone buzzed against your stomach, screen lighting up with hyein 💫 just as you were half-asleep, sprawled out in the back of the van, window cracked open to let in the smell of summer air and sun-warmed asphalt.

you answered without thinking. “yo.”

“don’t yo me,” she said, a little breathless, a little amused. in the background, you could hear the faint thump of music, some trainer yelling counts in sharp, clean numbers. “you’re the one who texted me a picture of a squished gummy bear in your seat cushion.”

“it looked like a person,” you mumbled.

“it looked like a murder scene,” she replied, then yawned. “you know you’re not funny, right?”

you smiled to yourself. “and yet you keep calling.”

“that’s just muscle memory,” she teased.

but her voice was soft around the edges—sleepy-soft, fond-soft—the kind that only slipped out when she was too tired to hold it back. you could picture her now: tucked in the hallway outside the studio, knees pulled up, hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed. probably leaning against the wall with that half-exhausted grin she always wore after practice.

“i needed a break,” she added, quieter this time. “and you’re good for that.”

you let that sit. warm and golden and a little too big for your chest.

“how’s practice?” you asked.

“my legs hate me. i think my kneecaps are trying to quit.”

“you should give them a raise.”

“i gave them ice. it’s the best i could do.”

you laughed, and she did too. she always had the kind of laugh that made it feel like everything else could wait.

“guess where i am,” you said, even though she already knew.

“hmm,” she hummed. “judging by the background noise and the weird echo in your voice… let me guess. spaceship?”

you grinned. “bingo.”

“do the engines still make that weird rattling sound?”

“only when we hit light speed.”

she sighed dramatically. “classic. tell your dad his maintenance crew is slacking.”

you stared up at the ceiling of the van, faded and familiar. “do you remember that one summer we camped out here for like, a week straight?”

“we weren’t supposed to,” she said, her voice dipping low with memory. “your dad said one night. and then you made it seven.”

“you kept showing up with your sleeping bag and those microwave s’mores.”

“you had a playlist,” she said, almost fondly. “with like—old cartoon theme songs and weird lo-fi remixes.”

“you danced to half of them on the front seats.”

“because you made them into a stage,” she laughed. “i was eleven, i didn’t know any better.”

“you were good,” you said, quiet.

she didn’t answer right away. you heard a faint shuffle—maybe her brushing hair out of her face, or looking away like she could feel you saying it, even through the phone.

“you used to cry here too,” you added, a little gentler. “when stuff got hard. before auditions. when school sucked.”

“you cried here too,” she said softly.

you blinked up at the ceiling. “i forgot that part.”

“i didn’t.”

there was something about her voice just then. like a secret folded into paper. like if you tugged on the string too fast, it’d all come undone.

you swallowed. “this van’s got all our ghosts in it.”

“yeah,” she said. “but they’re the good kind. the ones that leave notes.”

you could hear someone call her name faintly in the background—muffled and distant. she didn’t move.

“hey,” you said, sudden. “when i do get my license…”

“mhm?”

“let me drive you somewhere. anywhere. i dunno. outer space or… whatever’s past that.”

she laughed softly. “outer space and beyond?”

"yeah," you said, voice light. "i mean, i don’t really have a plan or anything..."

there was a beat of quiet static, just her soft breathing on the other end.

"but i’ve got the van," you added. then, like the words slipped out before you could catch them— "so, y’know... let me drive it into your heart or whatever."

she went quiet, but not in a bad way. you could almost feel her smile through the signal. then hyein laughed. quiet. flustered.

“was that a line?” she asked.

you blinked. “what?”

“you so just quoted a love song at me.”

“no i didn’t,” you said, instantly mortified. “wait—what? no. that wasn’t—that was steven universe.”

“i know,” she said, and now she was giggling. really giggling. “oh my god. you flirted with me with a cartoon song.”

“i didn’t mean to!” you groaned, covering your face.

“you totally meant to,” she said through her laughter.

you didn’t answer, mostly because there wasn’t a defense that didn’t make it worse. but her voice was like sunshine over the phone line, and you would’ve let her tease you forever if it meant she kept laughing like that.

you heard her shift again, like she was standing now. practice was probably calling her back.

“you’ll drive me someday,” she said, softer now, almost like a promise. “van or no van.”

“you sure?”

“i’m already packed,” she said. “just waiting for the ride.”

you were about to pull your phone away when a muffled voice cut through the line—familiar, but distant, like it was coming from another room.

“hyein! stop flirting with your girlfriend and get back to practice!”

you froze, eyes wide in a mix of surprise and delight. there was no mistaking who it was. minji.

“shut up!” hyein’s voice came back, a little defensive but laced with a laugh. “i’m on a break, i can talk to her.”

“right, sure,” minji said, her tone teasing. “a break from what, exactly? we’re doing serious choreography here, and you’re over there giggling with your girlfriend on the phone.”

“i’m not giggling!” hyein snapped back, though it was clearly a lie—her voice still light, unguarded. “i’m just... talking.”

“talking, huh?” minji’s voice turned mockingly sweet. “we’re all sure that’s what you’re doing.”

you could hear the shuffle of feet and the soft murmur of the other members in the background, all joining in on the teasing. it was like being a fly on the wall of hyein’s world. and for some reason, hearing her like this—so real—made your chest warm in ways you hadn’t expected.

“okay, okay,” hyein said, her tone soft but a little embarrassed. “fine. i’ll talk to her later. but you guys are ruining my vibe!”

“so you are flirting!” minji said triumphantly.

“we’re not even dating!” hyein shot back, her voice high-pitched in mock exasperation. “it’s just—just—we’re friends! okay?”

“sure,” minji said skeptically, her voice full of fake sweetness. “friends. totally.”

there was a collective snicker from the other members in the background, and you could practically see hyein burying her face in her hands, embarrassed.

“really, you guys,” she groaned, but there was laughter in her voice despite herself. “stop messing with me.”

you were just giggling softly on your side of the phone, barely able to keep the smile off your face. you were so glad it was you getting to hear her like this, all real and unguarded, even if it was a little embarrassing for her.

“okay, okay,” minji said with exaggerated sympathy. “we’ll stop. but only because you’re clearly so in denial about it.”

“i’m not in denial!” hyein protested, but she was laughing, too. “i just—ugh. i’m hanging up before i lose my dignity.”

“if you had any left, sure,” minji teased.

you could hear the rustling of movement, like hyein was trying to get away from her members, but the teasing didn’t stop.

“i’m sorry,” hyein said, trying to sound serious but still laughing. “they’re just annoying.”

“it’s okay,” you teased back, still smiling. “i’m used to it.”

“you are used to it, aren’t you?” she groaned, the sound soft and affectionate. “well, sorry for having fun.”

“i’m just gonna stay quiet over here,” you teased gently. “don’t want to make you sound any more guilty than you already do.”

“ugh, you are going to make me sound guilty now, aren’t you?” she sighed, clearly defeated.

“you kind of already did that,” you said, your voice playful. “but it’s fine. no one needs to know the truth. we’re just friends, right?”

“shut up,” hyein muttered, but her voice was warm, fond. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re impossible, but that’s why i love talking to you,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. you didn’t even realize how flirty it sounded until the words hung in the air between you, a little heavier than before.

there was a moment of silence. then, you could practically hear her freeze, her breath catching. “w-what?”

“nothing,” you said quickly, trying to cover up your slip. “just... you’re fun to talk to, that’s all.”

but hyein was laughing softly, her voice teasing. “uh-huh. right. totally just friends, huh?”

you buried your face in your hand, a little mortified now, but still laughing, too. “stop.”

“i’m not the one who started this,” she shot back with mock innocence.

you chuckled, shaking your head. “i’m serious, though. you really think we’re just ‘friends’?”

“i—ugh. fine. maybe,” she said, her voice playfully reluctant. “but i’m not ready to admit it just yet.”

you both paused for a moment, and then the conversation lightened again, both of you sliding back into that easy comfort that had always existed between you.

“all right, i guess i’ll get back to my serious practice now,” she said, still laughing under her breath. “but i’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“okay. go be serious, superstar.”

“ugh,” she muttered with a laugh. “you’re awful.”

the call ended not long after that. and still, your phone glowed with her name like it didn’t want to leave either. 

you were still giggling long after the call. and though the silence settled again, it was filled with something light, something warm. and for a moment, the world outside your phone didn’t feel quite as big.

outside the cracked window, the sky was starting to pinken. and inside the van, you sat alone—but not really. not when her laughter still echoed off the seats.

you weren’t supposed to hang out today. she had a schedule—photoshoots, or maybe it was choreography review. you didn’t ask too many questions anymore, not wanting to be another thing on her list. but then, as always, hyein texted you anyway, like she always did when there was just a little crack in her day.

hyein 💫

meet me at the corner. bring snacks. and van.

you didn’t ask which corner. you knew.

you grabbed sour gummies and a soda in a too-warm bottle, and she brought herself—tall, shiny, seventeen, all lit up with laughter like the world wasn’t watching. she teased you the second she climbed into the van—about your height, about your snacks, about your hair—but it was easy. it was always easy with her.

you hadn’t grown much since middle school. she had. she was taller than you now, and she never let you forget it.

“remember when i had to tippy-toe to reach your bookshelf?” she said, pulling her legs up into the seat again. “and now look.”

“you can reach it now,” you deadpanned.

“and i can reach the top shelf of the fridge,” she added, eyes sparkling with that usual mischievous glint.

you stuck your tongue out. “you’re such a menace.”

“a tall menace,” she said proudly, leaning back, long legs stretching across the seat.

you slumped in the driver’s seat, hands still on the wheel. “i miss being taller than you.”

she grinned. “i miss when you couldn’t drive. oh wait—still can’t.”

“i can drive,” you argued, but your voice faltered a little. “i just legally shouldn’t.”

she snorted. “semantics.”

you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind where nothing had to be said but everything still felt full. you caught yourself staring at her, her profile in the soft light—unreachable and so effortlessly perfect. it made your chest feel warm, the way things used to be between you, how they could be now, if only you weren’t so good at pretending.

just then, a knock at the van door startled both of you.

you looked up.

it was minji.

you watched as hyein scrambled to sit up, her movements a little frantic, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “unnie!” she groaned. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” minji said, though her grin said she wasn’t sorry at all. “but, date’s over lovebirds. it’s time to go.”

“don’t say it like that,” hyein hissed, her cheeks blooming pink. her eyes darted to you, that little flustered look creeping up her neck, and suddenly you felt like you’d just walked into a private moment you weren’t supposed to see.

minji raised an eyebrow. “am i wrong?”

“it’s not a—” hyein floundered, trying to recover. she turned to you, her face a picture of helplessness. “tell her it’s not a date.”

you shrugged, playing along even though you could feel your heart do a little dance. “depends on your definition of date.”

hyein groaned. “i will scream.”

“so dramatic,” minji teased, already moving to unlock her car. “get in before i leave without you.”

hyein hesitated, halfway out of the van. “ugh. why do you always do this to me?”

“because it’s funny.”

as she climbed out, you couldn’t resist calling out, “it’s okay! i’ll drive her home in my van!”

both of them froze.

minji turned, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “that’s your dad’s van.”

“and you don’t even have a license,” hyein added, laughing despite herself.

you smiled. “yet.”

minji shook her head, smiling in that knowing way. “i can’t with you two.”

before closing the passenger door, hyein leaned back in, her hand still on the handle. the light from the porch behind her caught the edges of her hair, casting a halo around her face. her eyes were soft, her smile barely there, as if she were holding something back—something that was just hers, just yours.

“you’ll get there,” she said.

you tilted your head, unsure whether she meant the license or something else. “where’s there?”

“the license. the driving. the van.” she paused, letting the words linger in the air for just a moment too long. then, in a softer voice, the one she only ever used when she was close, when she knew you were listening, “the heart.”

your breath caught, and for a second, the world around you slowed. it felt like something in the space between you shifted, just enough for you to feel it—a flutter in your chest, the kind you could never quite name. you looked up at her, eyes searching her face for something more, something she wasn’t saying aloud.

she smiled, a little crooked, a little knowing, but so warm that it almost made you forget to breathe. “you’re already parked in mine.”

and then, as if she had just dropped a weight she didn’t want you to carry, she was gone, slipping into minji’s car, leaving you with nothing but the dim glow of the porch light and the steady hum of your heart. you stayed in the van, your fingers still gripping the steering wheel, and for the first time, it didn’t feel quite as parked as before.

you couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream.

that night, you lay in bed, thinking about the van.

thinking about her.

you didn’t have a license. you didn’t have money or fame or even enough common sense to remember where you put your house keys half the time.

you didn’t know much. you didn’t have a plan.

but you had that van. and a girl who believed in you enough to call it home.

and you had her smile, folded gently in your chest like a paper crane.

so when you finally did get your license, the first place you’d drive?

her.

right into the heart she let you park in a long time ago.

[oddballwriter]

Hello! I have a vague idea for something, hope that's alright! I've seen other people write and it got me thinking about more and it got me thinking about more scenarios and possibilities and I started thinking about dbbq!ena x reader where the reader gets hurt and ena freaks out cause she doesn't know how to help or handle it cause she doesn't know how human or organic?? bodies work since her world and the entities there are so different from ours. Could be a smaller injury (deep cut that's just bleeding a lot but not enough to cause major problems or something) or could be a major injury (losing a limb, long deep cut, idk dawg can't think of examples, sorry) and she again, freaks out. It'd be completely up to you on what the injury is and how severe, doest matter to me. Writing this also made me wonder on whether or not an injury could get infected in her world. Is bacteria the same there? Or would it just not get infected? Also, sorry my examples aren't great and I didn't give many, I tried and my mind went blank like I'm taking a test, lol. You absolutely don't have to write this if you don't want!

Anyways, I love your writing and your doing great! Have a great day <3

Small Mishap of Personal Property

Dream BBQ ENA’s reaction to her partner getting injured

Warning: Gender neutral reader (pronouns and gender never mentioned or used). Reader getting injured (minor cut on the hand), bleeding, and pain. Implications that ENA is having a trauma-based response towards reader’s injury.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

You were trying to make a jump right behind ENA. She managed to make it fine, but you’re foot tripping on the ledge of the platform. You were set to land perfectly fine on the ground, but the knowledge that your jump went a bit wrong triggered your instincts to brace yourself for the fall or to catch yourself. The momentum made you slide just a little on your extended hands and you felt a sharp pain on one of them in particular. When you get up and check yourself for any scraps and then look to your hand, you realize that you’ve cut yourself on something and that’s what the sharp pain was.

It looks a bit deep and it’s actively bleeding, and of course stings with pain, but it’s not that bad. You’d probably just need to wash the wound and wrap it with something

But you hear the sound of ENA glitching, with bother her voices making noise. You look up at her and she’s already lunging to you and taking your hand

You can see it on her face that she’s panicking and worried

Her salesperson side is jabbering about “critical work ethic violation” and “liability to precious cargo” to which her meanie side comes and starts looking genuinely panicked rather than scolding you

She’s really freaking out, you can’t fully understand why. Maybe she’s so worried because she still doesn’t fully understand how injuries work for you and knows that avoiding pain and injuries is a thing “programmed into your squishy code source (your brain)”, and thinks that all injuries are bad for you. Or a response that she has that comes from a more… troubling time.

Either way, you make an effort to reassure her that you’re fine and just need to clean and bandage it

She looks at you confused. Like you just said a concept that is alien to her.

…maybe it is? Maybe people don’t get injured the same way you do as a human. Maybe when people here get hurt they just regenerate or something. Maybe this is the first time ENA’s ever heard of having to clean and dress a wound. Do you even need to clean it? Do infections exist here? Like bacteria? What the hell would you even clean it with? There’s nothing here like actual water. Or anything that can be a bandage

You set for ripping off a piece of your clothes that would work

ENA watches you intensely, like she’s watching you do surgery as you wrap your hand and tie it to keep it from slipping off

You show your hand to her and say “See? All better.”

She visibly calms down and her salesperson side pipes up, commenting “Fascinating. Have we mitigated the collateral damage of our form?”

You tell her yes, through you might have to take the safer route next time till it your hand heals and avoid getting another one and possibly freak her out again

She agrees and vows to “take less business risks when in the possession of highly valuable properties of my admirations.”

[arkaiveofurown]

The Call He Didn’t End

Pairing: Sabo x Reader

Sabo’s always had a habit of ending calls abruptly—even with you. After a dangerous mission, you call to check in, expecting the usual quick exchange. But this time, he doesn’t hang up. Instead, he stays on the line, asking about your day. It’s a small change, but it means everything. In that quiet moment, you realize he’s beginning to let his guard down—with you.

Word Count: ~2,200

tags: fluff, pre-relationship, romance

my masterlist here ♡

⸻

The ship rocked gently as you sat near the railing, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the deck. You pulled out your device and quickly dialed Sabo’s number. It had been a few days since you’d heard from him, and after hearing about the dangerous mission he’d been on, you couldn’t help but worry.

The call didn’t take long to connect. As usual, Sabo’s voice crackled through, sounding calm but tired. “Yeah?” His tone was clipped, like he was ready to end the conversation before it even began.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said, forcing a lightness into your voice despite the anxiety gnawing at you. “I just wanted to check in. How’s everything? Are you okay?”

The silence that followed made you wonder if he was about to hang up right then. But after a beat, he spoke again, his voice softer than usual. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

That was the thing with Sabo. He was always so composed, so unwilling to let anyone see the cracks in his cool exterior. It was a habit, something he did with everyone. He had a way of keeping his emotions at bay, keeping everything short and simple. And yet, something felt different tonight.

“Are you sure?” you asked gently. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. I know that mission was risky.”

“Yeah, it was.” He paused for a moment, but instead of the usual abrupt end, he continued, “But it’s over now. We’re good.”

You hesitated for a moment. “Good. But, um, how about you? How are you really doing?”

For a split second, there was a silence on the other end, and you thought he might hang up. But he didn’t.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, but this time it was quieter. More… thoughtful. “How’s your day been?”

That threw you off. Sabo had never asked you about your day before. His calls were always about him, about making sure everything was okay on his end, then quickly ending the conversation. But tonight, he was changing the routine.

You smiled, leaning back slightly against the railing. “Well, I’ve just been doing some work on the ship, nothing too exciting. But I’m glad you called.”

“You sound like you’ve been busy,” he noted, his voice lighter now, like he was actually paying attention to you. “What kind of work?”

“Just some repairs. You know how it is,” you replied, trying to keep it casual. “But really, I’ve been thinking about you… and hoping you’re doing alright after the mission.”

There was a slight shift in his tone. “You’ve been thinking about me?”

“Of course,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You’re hard to miss, you know? The guy with the ridiculously cool hat and the fancy fireball moves.”

You could almost hear him chuckling on the other end. “You always know how to make me laugh, even after a rough mission.”

That laugh of his—it wasn’t something you heard often. It was usually reserved for when he was with his crew, his friends. But tonight, it felt like he was letting his guard down just a little. A small but significant change.

——

The conversation continued, and for the first time in a long time, Sabo wasn’t rushing to hang up. He was actually… asking about you.

“How are they doing?” he asked after a while, his tone genuinely curious.

“They’re all good,” you replied. “Busy, but that’s the usual.“

Sabo chuckled at the thought of his younger brother. “Yeah, I can imagine. But it sounds like you’ve been keeping things under control.”

“Well, someone has to,” you teased. “Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on the ‘Great Sabo’ from afar, right?”

He snorted, a sound that made your chest warm. “You’re probably the only one who’d say that to me.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” you replied with a smile, trying to picture his reaction. “You get too serious sometimes. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

Sabo was quiet for a moment. Then, as though testing the waters, he asked, “And what about you? Who keeps you grounded?”

The question caught you off guard, and you found yourself smiling softly. “I guess it’s you,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Even if you’re always hanging up on me.”

He paused. The usual playful tone was absent from his voice now. “I never meant to hang up on you, Y/N. It’s just… easier that way. But maybe… maybe I’m starting to like these long calls.”

You swallowed, your heart skipping a beat. Did he just…?

“Maybe?” you repeated, your voice teasing but with an underlying softness.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone a little more tentative now. “I’m not used to it, but I don’t mind it when it’s with you.”

——

The conversation moved forward, but you couldn’t shake the shift in Sabo’s tone. The once sharp, distant manner in which he spoke was softening, becoming warmer. He was asking questions, actually engaging in the conversation, not just giving short responses.

“What was the hardest part of the mission?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

There was a slight hesitation on his end, before he replied, “I’m just glad it’s over. Missions like that always leave a mark on you, you know? But it’s worth it if we’re able to make a difference.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart ache a little. “I’m proud of you,” you said, your words genuine. “I don’t think you hear that enough, do you?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then, in his usual calm but honest way, he said, “I don’t really expect praise. But I appreciate it, Y/N. More than you know.”

The air between you two felt charged now, the conversation hanging on a delicate thread, something unspoken between you. His words were softer, as if he trusted you just a little more than before.

——

It was getting late, and the call had stretched on far longer than either of you were used to. Still, Sabo didn’t hang up. Instead, he lingered on the line, the usual sharpness gone from his voice.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his tone. “I’m glad you didn’t hang up,” you teased gently.

He chuckled, but it was softer than usual. “I guess I’m starting to like our calls more than I thought.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I like them too,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm.

There was another silence, but this one felt comfortable. Neither of you seemed in a rush to end the call, and for the first time, it felt like you were truly connecting.

——

As the call neared its end, you found yourself more relaxed than you’d been in a long time. You hadn’t expected tonight to be different, but somehow it was.

“Well, I should let you go,” You said after a long stretch of silence. “It’s late, and I’m sure you have things to do.”

Sabo hesitated. “Actually, I kind of don’t want to hang up.” His voice softened. “But… we can always talk again tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” You replied, your heart light. “I’ll be here.”

Sabo let out a quiet breath, as if he was finally letting himself relax. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t end the call abruptly. Instead, he said something that made your heart skip a beat: “Y/N… I’m glad you’re here. I don’t say it enough, but you mean a lot to me.”

Those simple words hung in the air, and though he didn’t say much more, you knew it was something he’d never said to anyone else.

“Goodnight, Sabo,” you said softly, your heart full.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

And with that, the call ended—but it wasn’t the usual quick hang-up. This time, it was different. This time, there was something more. And you couldn’t wait to see where it went from here.

⸻

It had been weeks since that call, and the connection you felt with Sabo over the phone had only deepened. But today, he was finally coming to see you in person.

As the ships docked, you scanned the crowd, your eyes falling on a familiar silhouette—a tall figure with a wide-brimmed hat, his back straight, and a purposeful stride. Sabo.

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something different about seeing him in person, after all the late-night calls. The way his presence filled the space around him, the confidence that radiated from him—it made your heart beat a little faster.

He spotted you immediately, a soft smile tugging at his lips. For a moment, you just stood there, the distance between you both seeming both familiar and foreign at the same time. The conversations you’d shared over the phone seemed like an intimate secret, and now you were finally going to share the same space, share the same air.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but warm as he approached, his usual calm demeanor still present but softened. “It’s good to finally see you again in person.”

You smiled, feeling your heart race. “It’s good to see you too, Sabo.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, as if you both were trying to figure out the next step. Finally, he took off his hat and tucked it under his arm, his eyes softer than usual.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low.

You looked up at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

Sabo smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “The call. That night we talked. When I didn’t hang up.”

You nudge his side lightly, a playful tone in your voice. “Not that I’m complaining, but that’s a first.”

Sabo chuckled softly, turning his head toward you with a half-smile. “I guess I just didn’t want it to end this time. It felt… different.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “So, you’re telling me you’re finally capable of holding a conversation without disappearing mid-sentence?”

He smirked back, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “Don’t get used to it. It’s a one-time thing.”

You snorted, nudging him again. “Sure, Sabo. I’m sure I’ll hear that the next time you go radio silent.”

He didn’t respond immediately, instead, he stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression now serious. “No, really. I wanted to stay. To keep talking. It’s not something I usually do.”

There was a shift in the air, a quiet, almost tender moment as you both stood there, your gaze locking. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the unspoken words that he was finally letting slip free.

“Glad to know I’m finally worth breaking your habit for,” you teased, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Sabo’s grin widened slightly, but it was tinged with something deeper now, something more meaningful. “You always have been.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound being the quiet of the world around you. Then, you tilted your head, pretending to be deep in thought.

“That’s it, then?” you asked, drawing his attention. “You’re telling me I finally cracked your cold, unyielding habit of hanging up mid-convo? I should feel special, huh?”

Sabo chuckled, his expression softening. “I know. It’s just a habit, I guess. I never meant to leave you hanging… I just didn’t know what to say. But that night… it felt different. I wanted to hear your voice longer.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words hitting you deeper than you expected. “So, what changed?”

Sabo stopped walking too, turning to face you fully, his eyes intense but warm. “You changed it, Y/N. You made me want to stay. To listen. To really… talk.” He took a step closer, his hand reaching out, brushing against yours. “I might just stay on the line more often… if you’re the one picking up.”

Without warning, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his, a quiet, simple kiss. When you pulled away, his eyes were slightly wide, lips curved in an amused smile.

“Is that a promise?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, giving a light shrug. “Guess you’ll have to call me and find out.”

You shook your head, a laugh escaping you. “I see how it is. I get one phone call, and now you’re already making me work for it.”

Sabo’s gaze softened, and he stepped a little closer, his voice quieter now, more earnest. “It’s not about making you work for it. It’s about wanting more. More than just words or calls. I want this—I want us. For real, not just over the phone.”

As you both continued walking, the night felt different—brighter, more full of possibilities. For once, you knew there would be no rushing off, no abrupt hang-ups. Whatever happened next, you and Sabo had found a new connection—one that neither of you was eager to end.

And that was a call you’d both gladly pick up every time.

[4doras]

NO STRINGS ATTACHED ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

it wasn't right to like haechan, but fighting the urge was impossible ⊹♡

haechan x f.reader

genre. fluff

wc. 1.0k

a/n. been wanting to write something for haechan, ESPECIALLY istj extrovert haechan

all your friends told you it wouldn't be a good idea to get into a relationship with haechan.

everyone knew haechan was trouble. he was the type of boy that parents would tell their daughters that he was no good and to stay away from him, and so did yours. but how could you resist an offer from a guy like him? 

more under the cut!

despite his bad reputation, every girl would still follow him around, knowing all he’d do was ruin them. 

he wasn’t a heartbreaker, nor a playboy, but a trouble maker. he constantly skipped classes, only making the initiative to come to school so he could go to classes he pleased. he never focused in class, ending up in terrible grades, the highest in his report probably being a C in the classes he actually attended. but you knew he could be smart if he wanted to, he just never took the time to be. he often got into fights, ending up scarred and bruised. 

regardless, you decided to approach him, ending up in this mess of a relationship which you liked to call a “close friendship”, though all your friends were sure that you were slowly catching feelings for the boy. 

– 

“how’re you gonna break it off with haechan?” yizhou asked. she knew you never meant for it to get this far; you never mixed in with the wrong people, even while hanging out with haechan. he was the only one you’d stay with. “look, y/n, i know you like him, or like hanging out with him, i guess, but you can’t keep hanging out with haechan. he’s not good, and you know that.” it felt like she told you this everyday, reminding you of how haechan wasn’t a good person and he’d change you if you didn’t leave him. 

“i don’t know, yi. it feels like i can’t leave him, it’s like i’m just being pulled towards him all the time.” 

everything he did, the way he cared for you, the way he would always help you, the way he tried to be better around you, trying to not get into fights because he knew you hated it. 

“just promise me you won’t do something stupid.” she stared at your empty face, blank with no expression. “i meant dating him. promise me you won’t.” she stuck her pinky out, waiting for you to link yours with hers. 

“i promise.” but you knew that you couldn’t keep it. 

—

you were sitting next to haechan, helping him finish work he hadn’t finished, like always. you watched as he tapped his pencil on the desk, absent-mindedly staring at his paper. 

“haechan, i’ve told you everything you need to know. i know you can do this.” you rested your head on the table, looking him in the eyes as he hunched over his paper. 

he looked even more beautiful like this, his hair was messy, lips slightly pouted, and his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than you liked. it made your heart race in a way you didn’t like – you knew you couldn’t date him – it just wouldn’t be right. it wasn’t right to love someone like him, someone who was the polar opposite from you, someone who fought. but you knew that he was trying to change himself, for you. 

“you’re really pretty, y/n.” he softly mumbled, eyes still remaining on you. 

“stay focused, haechan.” you brought your eyes back to your work, resting your head on your cheek to hopefully hide the growing pink. 

“i mean it.” 

why did he keep persisting? your chest tightened at every complement he gave you, even the smallest things. but what was worse was that he’d act as if it was nothing just mere seconds after, as if it didn’t mean anything. did it ever mean anything? did he just throw them around? 

– 

finally, after hours of tweaking haechan’s work until it was good enough, he was done. he was beginning to get drowsy, his words were slurred and muffled. 

“y/n, can i stay over tonight? i’m really tired.” he said in a murmur so low you almost couldn't understand him. 

“you know my parents don’t let guys stay over.” as much as you wanted him to stay over, you knew your parents wouldn’t allow it. “and you know it took ages for me to convince them to let you just come over.” 

“please, y/n. don’t you get it?” he was sitting up straight now, his voice was much clearer, and laced with frustration. he looked at you with squinted eyes, head tilting. “i like you, okay?” he huffed, dropping his hand from his hair. “i like you a lot.” he sighed. 

“what? but… why? i’m so different from you, and you know i don’t like how much you get into fights, you know i don’t like it when you skip classes, and you know my friends don’t like us, either.” you weren’t trying to make him feel bad, but hearing yourself, it started to sound like it. 

“how couldn’t i like you? you’re perfect, y/n. you were kind enough to approach me, even when people advised you not to. you care for me, even when i do stupid things. you help me with work even though you know i never take the time to even go to class. i don't care that your friends hate me, it can't change my heart, y/n. i’ve tried to leave you, tried to distance myself from you, but it's like some string just leads me to you, and i can’t let it go.” he just looked back at you, eyes full of frustration. not the type that was pinpointed at you, but the fact that he knew he shouldn't like you either. 

you couldn’t find the right words to say nor the point you would make. would you talk about how you two weren’t right for eachother? would you talk about your feelings? everything was messing up in your head. 

like it was instinct, you kissed him on the lips, wrapping your arms around him. he hesitated, unsure of what just happened, but once he came to his senses, he pressed his lips against yours. 

slowly pulling back from him, you finally realised what you just did. you couldn’t take it back anymore, you liked him and you were sure of it. 

“i like you too, haechan. probably more than i should.” you said, still holding him close to you. 

“i love you more.”

[rist-ix]

Bloom's turn!

I'm gonna admit, I don’t think Bloom's reboot design is bad. I was ranting about Aisha's a lot, but despite me generally disliking Bloom's recent pink trend, this new design is… fine?

Anyway, redesigning it out of principle:

My main criticisms about the canon design are that the hair looks wack and the wings are too messy, but I do really like the added pinks for once! I still wish there was less of it, but combined with the more cosmic looking background (which I love!) it looks really celestial and warm. Idk I don’t have a lot of complains about the palette this time.

I wish her little half-sleeve was a bit less transparent, it’s barely visible like this and I really like that one shot where it appears on her arm. Deserves to shine a little more in my opinion. The shoulder pad… I like the idea behind it? I think it looks really awkward in execution though. I made it symmetrical and more collar-like because that made it more royal-looking in my opinion. Almost prince-ly, like some kind of ceremonial military uniform. Not because it reminded me of Utena haha noooo

Anyway, more thoughts under the cut:

I've kind of done the same thing I did with Aisha's wings in that redesign, but instead of making it look like water caustics I went for some more plain flame-looking patterns. It's very abstract, but as long as it vaguely resembles fire I’m happy. For the top, I tried to stick relatively close to canon — mainly because canon sticks very close to OG Bloom! Praise where praise is due, I appreciate the thought. Because the top part of the top is very narrow tho, that means the weird little shoulder pad ends up looking like an awkward little flap instead of armor. I’m deducting points for that. Granted, I also didn’t make it look like armor in my version, but I feel like that royal little suit-look would work AMAZING for that one shot where Bloom carries Icy bridal-style. You agree.

For the overall look, I went for much more symmetry than Aisha's redesign. I think Aisha being very headstrong and independent means she can afford to break patterns more, like she has her own way of doing things, even for clothing. But Bloom is still very new to being a fairy. I think she would be more than happy with just fulfilling her role as a fairy, so she can look a bit more… girl-next-door, I guess. That sporty little ponytail and singular sleeve should keep it from looking too well-behaved, I hope. I actually really like the ponytail in canon too, it’s just the sudden bangs that throw me off. Plus, I feel like the braids look odd. Don’t know why tho.

One detail I want to highlight: I made two version of her little headpiece. I feel like the first version is what Bloom should wear when she first starts out, and doesn’t yet know who she is. They’re just round little hair clips, mimicking the shape on her collar and creating a bit of a triangle, with Bloom's face at the center. But! They can also look like stunted little horn-stumps, in a way. So when Bloom regains her power in the finale, they can evolve into full little dragon horns, like she's molting out of her awkward hatchling stage.

I'm really happy with this! I feel like the vibe is a good blend between formal goody-two-shoes, and confident — maybe a little too cocky — little superhero. A bit girly, a tiny bit tomboyish, and a whole lot of kick-ass. Now if only I hadn’t set the resolution to like. 4 pixels in any direction. Wouldn’t that be fun.