#as i start to find my groove when writing him... this feels very HIM.

[tenebriism]

HEADCANON ;; Emmrich and Bonds

Emmrich is 100% the one who stands in the background and doesn't really expect anyone to seek him out FIRST for company ( he's old, he's into stuff that is stereotypically seen as WEIRD or misunderstood, and while he has MANY interesting stories and experiences to bring to the table, he doesn't believe them to be nearly as engaging as ones from, say, a Warden or an Antivan Crow, etc... ), so when someone DOES, he's genuinely surprised and puts his entire heart and soul into prioritizing the moments he shares with those who make time for him.

His finest teas, his favorite snacks, his ENTIRE ear and shoulder lended for listening and aid... truly, a wholesome man who cherishes every single bond he builds with anyone, whether platonic or romantic.

[dennisboobs]

do you guys ever sit and remember that dennis takes a mental health day is an episode that exists

[scholarinbookland]

Jimin as a Method Actor

As a nerd, when I write a think-piece or analysis, I have to define my terms and goals for this piece to start out. My post is about how I think, while not trained in the Method, Jimin really embodies method acting in music videos and on stage.

Method Acting: Common to popular misconception, Method acting is not about being “in character” throughout the course of an acting project. Instead, an actor who uses “the Method” draws upon either past emotional memories or a deep analysis of a character’s motivations to embody the truths of the role that they are playing.

The Jimin quote that gave me this impression was when he told WeVerse Magazine in the interview dated 7/31/2021, “I never noticed before but the songs do sound different depending on what I’m wearing. Sometimes I danced all excitedly when I wore casual clothes, but when I wore a suit, something about the song sounded sexy. There’s a different vibe when I dance alone versus when I dance as part of a group, so I visualize how I should dress to make my dancing look cooler every time.” This response tells me that he uses costuming to get into character on stage, and it’s always a slightly different character that still fits with the theme of the story. There are several videos on YouTube comparing how he changes the vibe of GoGo, Boy With Love, and Dynamite among others depending on the styling. It’s a sort of “obvious in hindsight” thing that made me watch a lot of Jimin fancams and really look at the subtle differences he incorporates.

The whole interview is really interesting, especially coming from the puff-piece prone in-house magazine, because Jimin is very open about his process. He mentions earlier in the interview that he had to modify his process for the English trilogy, and that it was more difficult for him to dance to concept-less songs.

I’m paraphrasing, but he described the Butter dance as difficult to execute at first before he had to find the groove through amalgamating the approaches of other members to the song. The way he contrasted the two song groupings was interesting: previous songs and albums were “a concept” where he “wanted to show off something about myself in that context”; the English trilogy was based in “following the feeling of conveying the feelings I want to share with others”. In short, he struggled without enough storytelling in the dance to develop a character to embody on stage. In my book, that’s Method acting.

You even see it in RunBTS episodes. I think the production team of that show is aware of it, because he’s way more prone to acting whiny/silly and doing aegyo when he’s been styled really young or cutesy, and much more adult in his playfulness/mischief when dressed his age. It’s all in the way he holds himself, in my opinion. It also makes him a great model, because he can sell any outfit concept.

I think it’s also why his parts are generally the most-replayed in Music Videos, despite not being one of the two fandom-designated actors. Every time you see him in a music video, even if it’s a short part, he is firmly in character, defined by the song concept, album concept and the outfit in that scene. Look at LY:Her for example. There’s a clear difference between the Intro: Serendipity Jimin and the DNA Jimin, despite them being on the same album and sharing a common theme of idealistic, naive love. Serendipity is about the dreaminess of first love, expressed through the character of the Little Prince. In DNA his character is still dreamy at times, but overall resolving to convince a partner of your commitment and he is much more naturalistic (by which I mean less ethereal) in his portrayal of the DNA character.

He stars in Intro:Serendipity, playing a character that apparently Koreans compared to the Little Prince. It’s a French science fantasy novella (I read it as a pre-teen) about a child prince who learned life lessons as he travels across planets, eventually ending up on Earth and sharing his experiences with the narrator. The whole music video seems to be based upon that character and novella, and Jimin does a really good job of portraying a dreamy, slightly otherworldly feeling in that performance, including staying composed and calm while doing stunt work. Instead of relying on dance and costuming, here he is actually acting wordlessly as he lip-syncs to the camera, and he made an iconic piece of art. I love this music video.

In DNA he is one of the seven member cast, with four outfit changes and choreography to set the tone for the performance. He is almost entirely a supporting character in this music video, so I’m judging the four character variants purely on split-second vibes. Anyone reading this has seen the music video, so I’m calling the outfits sparkly jacket, white sweater with red stripe, yellow jacket, and navy heart shirt. In the sparkly jacket he has a slightly untouchable, suave vibe, in the white sweater he smirks a little, in the yellow jacket he’s dancing playfully and is a little bro-y in the non dancing couch scene, and in the heart shirt he’s back to a dreamy character like Serendipity but with an extra edge. I don’t even know if the differences are intentional or subconscious, but it’s deeply impressive and makes him a phenomenal dancer to watch on screen. I’m a ballet fan, so wordless character embodiment is a favorite medium of acting to watch.

If you go through all their music videos and focus on Jimin, he’s always doing this. He’s got an idea in his head about what his character is, how it relates to himself (see the above quote about how he approaches concepts), how his character interacts and plays off of the other members, and how the styling influences the character’s presentation. Even more impressively, it’s all in micro expressions, not overacted or very noticeable at first glance. In other words, he quietly plays his character in the background when not in focus, but takes over the scene when it’s his part.

He definitely leaned into this tendency in his solo work. He kept the sets and abrupt scene changes fairly minimal in his four solo music videos, with 3/4 having one set and Like Crazy having 5 interrelated sets (dreamy blue intro, house, club, bathroom, black set with couple) that tell a story. The reason I think so many of his fans, especially the ones who got into BTS pre-English trilogy, love his music videos so much is because of the deeply well-thought out storylines that influence the sets, costuming, and scene changes. I’ll probably follow this post up with a Like Crazy storyline MV analysis of my own, through the lens of what his character is portraying as opposed to declaring what he’s trying to say, but this is a long enough ramble as it is. But overall, I think that Jimin’s method acting ability is a important contributor to his IT factor that many fans overlook when trying to explain his stage presence.

[janeyseymour]

longing looks and stolen glances

summary: anon asked for this: Hi, idk if you're still taking requests but could you write something where Mel finds out R like her back and then they're all silly and sneaking around, stealing kisses, glances and a brush of fingers every chance they get, like absolute fluff? And then the other teachers start to notice how smug Mel looks, specifically around R? I love your fics!!

WC: ~2.15k

There was no way this way happening- and yet it was. The Melissa Schemmenti has you pressed up against your desk and is kissing you hungrily. It takes a second for your brain to jumpstart before your arms snake around her waist and pull her in closer to you. Her lingering perfume scent nearly has you in a trance. The way that she only pulls you even closer to her own body is… how is this where you are right now? This has to be some sort of dream.

But it isn’t. When you finally pull back in desperate need of air, red hair and green eyes are still right in front of you. Almost as if you’re expecting to be woken up from your dream, you pinch yourself. You squeak a bit, and that deep laugh that you’re always craving to hear echoes throughout the empty room.

“Think you’re dreaming or something?” your colleagues deep voice chuckles out.

You just nod, a blush creeping into your cheeks. “I didn’t think… is this real life?”

“It very much is,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “I’ve had enough of that one camera man flirting with you.” She gives him a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Back off. She’s mine now.’

He nearly cowers.

You just laugh and pull her in again. “So… dinner?”

And that’s how the two of you started dating. After a brief meeting with the camera crew, they’re sworn to secrecy on your relationship. A threat that all of their equipment will somehow go missing and the documentary will no longer be a thing is enough for them to all promise the two of you that they won’t air any explicit evidence that the two of you are together.

“I don’t even want lingering looks,” Melissa states.

The camera man shakes his head at that. “Then maybe the two of you shouldn’t constantly be ogling each other. We’ve picked up on this for weeks, and Jeremiah flirting with Y/N was only a tactic to get the two of you to get your heads out of your asses. If this worked with the two of you… we’re wondering if it might do anything to finally get Gregory and Janine to face the truth of their relationship.”

“Jeremiah wasn’t really flirting with me?” you sound almost wounded. A light smack to your shoulder has you feigning hurt.

“Listen, Y/N,” the camera man laughs. “As beautiful as you are, you are not my type at all. And, I really don’t want the shit to get kicked out of me by your woman.”

As if to prove a point, your girlfriend wraps an arm around you and practically growls out a, “Mine,” before kissing your temple.

And so, your relationship stays a secret. Your girlfriend does everything she can to keep your relationship in this little bubble that the two of you have created. There isn’t any flirting (any flirting that could easily be detected by your friends and coworkers), you keep everything behind closed doors.

There are lingering kisses in the classroom when you’re positive that no cameras are around. You still sit with her and Barbara at lunch and at meetings so as not to throw off the groove that you’ve found yourself in. Sometimes, you’ll feel a feather light touch or a squeeze of the hand when Ava says something particularly ridiculous, but you’re able to keep your face straight, and no one is the wiser to these intimate moments that the two of you secretly share.

But as time goes on, it’s getting harder and harder to conceal the bond that the two of you have. At this point, you’re getting ready to move your things into her apartment permanently (as if you haven’t practically been living with her for months- you have a drawer of your things at her place), the two of you are often together after work and on weekends, and you’ve even been to a few of her family dinners.

“You bringing over a few more boxes tonight?” your girlfriend asks you as you enter the staff room. It alarms you that she would bring this up so casually, but then you realize that she is the only one at the school besides you.

You nod brightly and kiss her quickly, as if someone would walk in on you at any given moment.

“I was planning on it,” you chuckle. Then you pull away from her, although her fingers stay gently interlaced with yours. “Coffee?”

She nods enthusiastically and begins to pluck the mugs from their place. You let yourself watch her figure for a few seconds before you hear the door swing open and Jacob announce his entrance. Your eyes immediately flit down to the coffee grounds in your hand, and your body turns red at the thought that you might have just been caught staring at the second grade teacher’s ass. Thankfully though, you were not caught.

“Ooh!” Jacob grins at the sight of Melissa reaching for coffee cups. “Deal me in!”

You scoop a few more grinds out and dump them into the coffee machine before filling it with water and waiting for the warm drink to be ready. Meanwhile, Melissa fixes her cup so the cream and sugar are already in her cup, and she does the same for you.

You give her a sweet smile when she hands over your cup, and your heart can’t help but flutter when she squeezes your hip gently while Jacob is turned away.

She can’t help the smug grin off her face when the social studies teacher turns back around.

“Hey, why’d you do Y/N’s cup, but not mine?” Jacob whines, almost like a child.

“Because Y/N ain’t particular about hers the way that you are.” Green eyes are rolled. There is no truth in that statement whatsoever. You are extremely particular about how your coffee is prepared, but after many mornings of coffee shared between the two of you Melissa has learned. 

Jacob continues to pout, but he does nod along. It’s funny the way that he’s so wrapped up in his pouting that he misses the way you kiss her cheek and thank her softly.

The rest of the crew starts to trickle in, so you and your girlfriend take up your seats to watch the news together. At home, she almost always has her arm draped around the back of the couch, and you lean into her figure as you practically inhale the liquid gold that you need in order to function. But here? She still has her arm draped over the edge of the couch, but you don’t lean into her. Sure, you sit next to her, but you don’t let yourself relax into her. Instead, she quietly draws circles and different patterns on your shoulder as you and your friends watch the news. It’s warm and familiar, and something that you aren’t entirely expecting her to do with your colleagues so close, but you let that smile wash over your face. Her smug grin only brightens when she truly realizes everybody is so wrapped up in the news that they fail to notice. 

While things have begun to become more relaxed with the two of you out in public, you still haven’t outwardly said anything about the relationship between the two of you. It’s like if you speak it into existence, the bubble will pop. So, you continue to just do things a bit more subdued with the crew around. 

The two of you know that whenever you’re at the school, there is pretty much a guarantee that you’re being filmed in one way or another- except for in the safe haven of the bathrooms. So often, you and Melissa sneak away to the staff bathrooms to steal a few kisses or discuss plans for after work.

But to everyone else, you’re just two peas in a pod- the way that you have been. You still sit together and lunch, in the morning, at staff meetings… have your classes do a few things together throughout the year.

Or at least… that’s what you think. The two of you think that you’re hiding this relationship wonderfully. Honestly, at this point, neither of you would care if they were to find out. It’s kind of become common knowledge outside of work that the two are you together, so you both forget to come out to your work friends entirely. You just know that even if you were out at work, the looks and touches would still be relatively rare- keep things as professional as possible.

The truth is, the others have begun to pick up on things. They’ve noticed that you’re almost always following Melissa around with the look of a puppy dog. They’ve taken into consideration that she always fixes your coffee mug- no one else’s, not even Barb’s. They see the way that instead of directing looks that would normally be shot to the camera are instead stolen glances between the two of you. They aren’t as dense as they’re playing to be- there is something going on between the two of you.

And Barbara Howard is going to get to the bottom of it.

There is one day specifically, during professional development, where the two of you are practically glued to each other- and unbeknownst to them, it’s been exactly six months since the two of you started dating.

The longing looks, the little squeezes here and there, it’s all so… domestic. Even just sitting in the library as Ava drones on about only God knows what, the two of you are like giggling school girls, making excuses to touch and look at each other.

And then when you’re all excused for the afternoon to work on whatever you have to do in your classrooms, Melissa is guiding you out with a tender hand on the small of your back. You instinctively reach behind you and give her hand a light squeeze of endearment.

Of course, the two of you cozy up in her classroom, fully ready to finish up on some grading that you’re behind on. Fingers are interlocked as you grade and she types on her computer with one hand while Barbara rounds up the rest of the group.

“You all have noticed that Y/N and Melissa are quite cozy together, yes?” the kindergarten teacher asks her friends as they take their lunch break.

“Someone jealous their work wife is taken with the newbie?” Mr. Johnson asks.

“Not jealous,” Barbara sighs. “Just… curious. I think the two of them are hiding something from us.”

The camera crew all glance around. They wouldn’t interfere- not unless they wanted their cameras to go missing. So instead, they just pull each of the staff members out to interview them separately.

And together, everyone is convinced that the redheaded teacher and you are up to something- that there’s something going on between the two of you.

Mr. Johnson flat out tells the camera crew that he knows you’re dating. That he watched you kiss Melissa as you were heading out of her classroom one day.

So, with that, the crew decides to push this storyline a bit- they still aren’t outwardly telling your colleagues of the relationship, but just… implying that maybe this is something they should investigate further.

And they do. Nothing comes out that day, but the rest of your friend group is on high alert when the two of you are around. They continue to play dumb, to not notice the little lingering looks, the touches, the way that Melissa couldn’t be more smug when she’s around you.

They pretend as if they couldn’t be clued in at all until one day, a few months later, Barbara has had enough. You and Melissa are sharing lunch, and her hand rests gently on your upper thigh as you converse about your mornings.

“For God’s sake, ladies,” Barbara finally explodes. “Can we stop ignoring the obvious?!”

“Barb, what?” you flinch slightly at her tone. You feel Melissa pull her hand away.

“The two of you!” the kindergarten teacher exclaims. “I can’t take any more pretending that we don’t all know that you’re together! So, out with it!”

Melissa’s face turns red as she looks to you. “Babe?”

“Babe?!” Jacob screeches. “You two are at the point of calling each other ‘babe’?!”

Realization dawns on your face. You never told your work friends. It had become so… normal that you just forgot to tell your coworkers that the two of you were together. “We- we never told you guys.”

“No, you most certainly did not!” Barbara states. “So, admit it! The two of you are seeing each other romantically!”

You look sheepishly at the redhead, as if asking for permission for your next move. At her nod, you hold up your left hand. “Not only are we together… we got engaged last night.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[seeingivy]

you're losing me

satoru x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

an: based on a request I received! i've been trying to get back into the writing groove since finals ended - and this very detailed request was exactly what I needed - so ty my sweetie pie <3

--

“Would you guys like to order?” 

You swallow hard, looking up at your waiter, who has stopped by for the third time now. You’ve been sitting here with the first years for almost forty-five minutes now, waiting for Satoru to arrive for the dinner that you two kept promising them. Yuuji and Nobara have all but exhausted the free bread supply while you waited, much to Megumi’s dismay, who keeps claiming that they’re going to be too full to eat their dinner and complain about it for days. 

“Um-” 

You pause, checking his location one more time, before you sigh and give a polite smile. Satoru’s location still isn’t reading - meaning, he’s still stuck on his mission - and not coming to dinner. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” you respond, gesturing for the three of them as Megumi starts narrating everyone’s order to the waiter.

The three of them turn to you - with matching stiff smiles - when he walks away as you swallow hard and prepare yourself for the awkward barrage of comments you know are coming. 

“He’s not coming?” Megumi asks. 

“Yeah. He’s still at his mission and I have to take you guys back early anyways, so we’ll just eat without him.” 

“Maybe you can take something for him to go?” Yuuji asks. 

“No, that’s alright. Um, his dinner from yesterday should still be there. He’s good.” you respond. 

You don’t miss the look that the three of them give each other and swallow down the defense of him that you always have prepared. Not that you don’t still vehemently believe in it, because you do, it’s just that it tends to make those prolonged, pitying looks last longer when you do. 

But Satoru really is busy. There’s no one like him - he quite literally changed the balance of life as anyone knew it when he was born - so of course there are certain missions that only he can do. And there’s a certain…safety that comes with picking Satoru each time. Because they know that he’ll come out on the other side of it, with exactly what they need. 

Which means that he comes home late sometimes. Despite your best efforts to stay up - which always end with you upright on the couch, with your neck curved in a weird way - only to find that you’re safely tucked into your bed the next morning. 

Satoru always comes home at some point, making sure to tuck you into bed, but has to run off so fast that you don’t catch him in the morning. 

“Gojo-sensei’s really neglecting you, huh?” Nobara utters, earning a jab from Megumi in his side. 

You smile. 

“No. He’s just busy.” you respond, awkwardly breaking the bread in your plate. 

“You’re right. He has missions and has been really hands on with the second-years.” Megumi responds. 

You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Exactly! Especially since they’re all about to be nominated for first grade sorcerers so…now is more important than ever.” you add. 

“It’s okay. You should just make Gojo-sensei feel really bad. Isn’t he rich? Then he’ll buy you a nice ring to make up for it.” Nobara adds, giving you a wink. 

You snort. 

“Okay, Nobara. I’ll try it.” you scoff. 

“No, seriously! He should feel bad - you’re probably drinking wine alone at night, blasting some sad songs before you get so tired from crying that you fall asleep. You deserve a gift!” Nobara adds, earning her another jab from Megumi in her side. 

You roll your eyes. 

“I do not blast sad songs before I go to bed. That’s actually pathetic.” you respond. 

“Or therapeutic. I’ll send you a playlist. Trust me, you’ll get so mad that you’ll actually get a gift from him out of it.” Nobara responds, your phone beeping in your pocket from her message. 

You look over at Megumi, giving him a knowing look, before you return to your dinner and let Nobara target her incessant rambling for someone else. At the end of the dinner, Nobara flashes you a big smile when you set Satoru’s credit card down on the table, which was an accident because you had just left yours at home. You settle down her rambling by buying them all dessert on it before you send them home. 

--

Satoru, though he would never admit it out loud, had been dreading coming home for the past week. And he’d wring his own neck out a few months ago, for even thinking it, let alone the fact that he’s been entertaining the fact for the past few months. 

But what he has waiting for him when he’s coming home, leaves him with that deep seated, guilty pit in his stomach. Because he always trods into your apartment hours late, to find you curled up on the couch, having dozed off. 

Satoru knows you - too well almost - and that despite his protests, you tried your best to wait up for him every single day. His heart warms at the fact that you want to spend time with him, but it’s quickly overshadowed with guilt when he sees the dark circles under your eyes. And it makes it ten times worse when he slips out in the morning for his mission, only to see you squirming into his side of the bed, now left cold. 

And the worst part? That you can’t even bring yourself to be mad about it. Because Satoru would feel with anger, that it would be fully deserved, but your full understanding and love for him just makes his guilt a thousand times worse. Because without fail, you always leave ehim a dinner plate out, reminding him to eat his vitamins and rink water before leaving. 

But today was different - quite possibly, the first time he’s rushed home in a while. Because his mission finished early and his meeting got cancelled, meaning that he would be home when you would be awake. He’d made arrangements, quickly running past and picking up a bouquet and ice cream on the way home, nearly sprinting all the way up the stairs. 

Satoru pads into the apartment, feet leading him straight to the bedroom, where the light is pouring from the bottom of the closed door. He hesitates, caught off by the fact that you’re singing, before knocking on the door together. He’d missed the sound of it, of your quiet singing that he’d often wake up to while you were showering. 

Satoru can recognize that you’re listening to Taylor Swift almost immediately - with how much you and Nobara play it around him - and he’s almost positive that you must have the cat cuddled into your nap, explaining all the lore to him like he’s found you doing hundreds of time. 

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something) "Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me) "Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing) To believe Unless you're choosin' me" You're losin' me Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore

Satoru swallows hard. He knows that it’s just a song. That the sentiment could easily not be reflecting what you’re feeling. 

But he’s also acutely aware that it could be what you’re feeling. And it’s something that you aren’t telling him, because he knows that you odn’t want to be another thing that he has to deal with at the end of the day. 

Satoru groans, leaning his head against the door, as he panders with his options. Because that’s the last thing that he wants you think. It’s the farthest place he wants to be in his relationship with you, because he wants you to always come to him. The fact that you could have been holding onto these feelings, for god knows how long, makes his stomach churn as his feet quickly lead him into the kitchen and has him scribbling a note to place in the bouquet of flowers. 

--

You shoot Nobara a text as you pad out into the kitchen, your cat following you on your heels. 

you: i like the playlist! 

nobara: how much have you had to drink? 

you: i did not drink. and i am not sad. 

nobara: now who said that? projecting much…

You roll your eyes as you half debate opening up the dinner you had left out for Satoru last night or ordering takeout and leaving him leftovers to eat tomorrow morning 

“I already ordered us something.” 

You turn around, to find Satoru closing the space between you, the flowery smell filling your nose as his lips meet your forehead in a warm kiss. 

“Satoru. You’re home, I didn’t even…” 

He presses his lips firmly against yours, his right hand flesh as your cheek, sending a wave of warmth down your spine. You smile into the kiss, resting your forehead against his, as he returns a soft smile back. 

“I missed you.” he murmurs. 

You deflate, warm tears filling your eyes at his presence - bright blue eyes, the smell of his shampoo, and his warm arms around yours - as you loop your arms under his and dig your face into his neck. You can feel him leaving a few pecks in your hair, his voice soothing as you try your best to will away your tears. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cry, I just really missed you.” 

He pulls back, giving you a warm smile, as he reaches for the flowers on the counter and places them in your hands. You give him a bright smile, twisting them in your hands, as you fully inhald the flowery smell. 

“For you.” Satoru responds, in a sing song voice as he reaches forward to pinch your cheek. 

“You didn’t have to, love.” you respond, swiping the tiny little envelope from the bouquet. 

“Yes. I did.” he deadpans, placing his hands on your shoulder before swinging you around and placing you flesh against his chest. 

You open up the little envelope to find a little note inscribed with his messy handwriting, as his lips find their way to your cheek. 

My sweet girl, 

Your endless empathy and patience don’t go unnoticed. You’re far more than I deserve and I want to make it up to you, though I’m sure I’ll probably spend the rest of my life doing that, if you’ll let me. 

We’re going to go away, just the two of us, for a little while. I don’t care where we go, you can choose where we go and what we do tomorrow. Just know, that in earnest, I’m choosing you, even if I don’t make it clear all the time. 

I’ll choose you, always. 

Love, 

Satoru

You smile hard, twisting around, so you can look up at him. The tears are flowing from your eyes tenfold how, as Satoru lifts his hands to your cheeks, trying to push you into smiling. 

���Why are you frowning, princess?” 

“You’re so sweet, Satoru.” 

Satoru shakes his head dismissively, as he pushes you into his embrace fully, increasing the pressure of his hold around you. The two of you stand there in the kitchen for a while, softly murmuring to each other, in the pale light of the kitchen. 

When you and Satoru pad into bed later that night, you send Nobara another message before going to sleep. 

you: nvm. remind me to take ur advice more often.

--

an, again: no one crucify me I haven't written anything for like a month

the satoru as taylor swift series masterlist

taglist: @invisible-mori @porridgesblog  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai  @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg

[freaky-deaky-cookies]

oh em gee... 👁️👄👁️

HALSIN X MALE READER!!! a very akward but very affectionate reader, tries to play fight all the time, miserable failure 🐻❤️

Please, and thank you and have a good day/night ☺️

Halsin x Affectionate! Awkard! Male! Reader

A/n I had fun writing this! I hope you enjoy it. :3 🐻❤️

It was an unusually warm evening in the groove, and Halisn had just finished up his regular duties. You couldn't help yourself but to get lost in his beauty. His long flowing hair, his warm ‘eyes, and those big strong hands. You get lost in your thoughts, to the point you don’t even notice him starting to walk in your direction. 

“Has something caught your attention, my heart?” The moment those words left his mouth you turn as red as freshly picked raspberries. Feeling the heat, you turn your head too embarrassed to look in his direction. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” you muttered.

“Is that so? You do know it is nothing to be ashamed of. I find myself losing your ethereal beauty often. I tend to lose myself in all of your handsome features. My favorite glimpses of you are when you strip your shirt to catch fish in the river. Or when it's way too hot and you lounge in the shade with barely any cover. I cannot get enough of you.” Halsin said all of this while reaching to pull you up from your spot on the ground. 

Without words being spoken, you stand and lean into his broad frame. Slowly you wrap your arms around Halsin in a warm embrace. He returns the gesture. Neither of you let go, accepting your fate you nuzzle into his chest. While embracing one another, a slippery thought wiggles into your head. (“He wouldn’t expect an ambush right now would he?”) With that thought, you adjust your arms to give you the most leverage against Halsin. “What are you planning on doing my love?” Halsin says, voice muffled by your hair.

You giggle as you brace your feet and push Halsin as hard as you can, hopefully to finally take him down! You just love the adrenaline rush of play fighting with Halsin. Typically, Halsin will finish the fight in mere seconds, however, today will be different! Or… maybe not. Halsin’s stance does not budge an inch. 

“Oh come on! You can at least pretend to lose for once!” You whined. 

“How could I when it's so adorable to see you pout?” Halsin laughed.

Too embarrassed to speak, you nuzzled yourself back into Halsin and he, in turn, does the same.

[iamnot-crazy]

Brainwaves Part 2

Summary: Law wakes up one day to find another person you, being in control of his body and speaking in his head. Now the two of you are trying to solve the mystery of how you got there in the first place and how to get you out of his body and into your own.

A/N: be sure to read part one first but I am enjoying writing this fun little mystery. I also find the idea of Law doing things he would never do like skip and tell people to have a great day very funny which is why I started writing this.

Law’s hand glides over the stone walls of the cave, gently analyzing the grooves and texture.

“This is where Shachi said they found me, thirty minutes after I went in,” he thinks aloud. “It took at least ten minutes to walk from the entrance to this point, so that leaves twenty minutes unaccounted for.”

“All I see are dark, musty walls,” you groan in his head. “Now that we’re far from the crew, can I take control again?”

He rolls his eyes. “I already told you, no. Our deal is you have control in the office and while eating, and I have control the rest of the time.”

“But it’s so…”

“Cold and empty, I know!” he cuts you off, his voice tight with impatience. “Look, I need to be in control right now. One, because if something happens, I need to use my powers to get us out safely. Two, I can research better by moving at my own will, not watching through you. And lastly, it’s my body, and part of our deal. If you ever want to find your own body, you’ll let me do what’s needed.”

You huff in reply as he continues down the dimly lit cave. “Looks like I was fighting something?” he ponders, running his fingers over a deep, slash-like sword mark.

“Oh, is that what that is? I just thought it was a very intense game of tic-tac-toe,” you snicker in his head.

He rolls his eyes again, pulling out his sword and comparing the marks with the movements he would have made. “I was throwing my sword rather chaotically, and I don’t think I made contact, seeing how the walls seem to have taken the brunt of my swings.”

“Or maybe you were just showing off. You know, ‘Look how strong I am!’ Slash! ‘Look how cool I am!’ Slash! Slash!’” You giggle at your own joke as he continues to ignore you. You pout, a flicker of annoyance in your thoughts. “Fine… you were fighting something invisible. Does that bring back any memories?”

He shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

You sigh. “Do you at least remember why you were in this cave?”

“Shachi said it was because I was getting weird feelings from the cave.”

“I know. I was there for that conversation, remember?” you say in a duh tone. “That doesn’t help us much.”

He sighs in annoyance. “Okay, well, what about you? Clearly, this all started in this cave. Do you remember anything? Recognize anything?”

You ponder for a moment. “Nope!” you pop, earning a groan from him.

“Well, this cave has to have some answers. We just have to keep looking.”

“Or… we go back to the ship and see what Shachi’s cooking for dinner!” you offer, a bubble of humor in your voice.

“What is it with you and food?” he questions as he walks deeper into the cave. “Shachi’s food isn’t even that good. It’s barely edible and all he makes are rice balls.”

You shrug. “I just feel like I haven’t eaten in years.”

“Well, you literally ate an hour ago, much to my embarrassment,” he cringes, thinking back to the moment when you were in control, shoving food down his throat before asking everyone on the crew if you could have the rest of their meal. His stomach still groans from being so full.

“Whatever. You just don’t know how to appreciate things.”

“Can you just focus?” he groans as he moves down the cave. Suddenly, a small bat flies at him. He throws his arm up, swatting at the bat as it dances around his head. “Get the fuck away.”

“Hey, leave it alone. It’s not its fault your hair looks like it has its own ecosystem stuck up there.” He continues to swat at the bat, ignoring you. “Hey, I mean it! Stop that!”

“I’ll stop when it leaves me alone!” He then makes contact with the bat, and it flies off squeaking.

Your stomach drops, and you are overwhelmed with a sense of fear, a primal instinct screaming at you to flee. “Law… run,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Run! Now!” you yell, your voice laced with terror.

He turns to run as a roar echoes down the cave, and the sound of large, beating wings propels him forward. “What the hell is that?!” he shouts as his stride lengthens.

“It’s Mom,” you state, your voice filled with dread.

“It’s Mom?!” He turns his head to see a giant bat that fills the entire cave and is three times the size of him. The bat’s back legs are extended, ready to claw him, and it’s gaining ground quickly, nearly on his heels.

“Slide to the left!” you shout.

He obeys, dropping to the ground and sliding into a small opening to the left. The bat’s claws scratch at the edge of the opening as he shifts deeper into cover. After another foot, the top of the cave opens up, allowing him to stand and catch his breath.

“What the hell was that?!” he pants, his heart pounding in his chest.

“The little bat’s mother,” you sigh.

“I caught onto that,” he rolls his eyes. “How did you know about her and this hiding spot?”

“I don’t know. I just felt a wave of déjà vu. Like I’ve witnessed that scenario many times,” you ponder, your brow furrowed.

“Interesting.” He puts his hand to his chin in thought. “Well, do you have any déjà vu on how to get out of here?”

“Maybe, if I had control, I think I could figure it out.”

He groans. “Fine, but as soon as we’re out, I’m taking back control so I can speak with my crew.” He closes his eyes tightly, and when they open, they’d shifted to your blue eyes.

A smile quickly overtakes the grumpy face. You stretch, getting familiar with controlling the body again. “Alright, this feels better already!” you laugh, popping your knuckles.

“Will you stop that! I’d rather not get arthritis,” he groans in your head.

“That’s just a myth, you baby,” you roll your eyes before starting to walk down the tunnel. You quickly pause, a weird feeling washing over you, as if something was telling you not to go down there. A shiver runs down your spine, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. You spin around, heading the other way.

“You better be able to get us out of here in a decent time,” he says, his voice laced with impatience.

*“*Can you just say something nice, or say ‘please’?” you sigh.

He groans. “Fine… can you please get us out of here on time?”

You smirk. “Thank you. Yes, Law, I’ll do my best to get us out of here on time.” You then disappear into the cave. “Besides, the sooner we get out, the sooner we can eat!”

He groans as you laugh, skipping down the cave.

—

You found your way out of the cave with ease and no further trouble. Now you’re sitting in the back of Law’s mind as he leads a meeting with his crew.

“This is so boring…“ you moan.

“Be quiet,” he hisses under his breath, covering his mouth with his hand as he leans back in his chair while his crew discusses their plans.

“But I’m bored.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Captain?” a voice asks, gaining Law’s attention. He shakes his head and sits up.

“Yes, Ikkaku? Sorry, what was the problem?” he asks.

“Ku,” you mindlessly correct.

“What?” He shifts his head away from the crew, hissing at you.

“I’m sorry, Captain?” The woman in front of him asks, looking confused.

He shakes his head. “Not you. Sorry. Continue.”

Ikkaku nods, turning back to the board with a map of the North Blue. “I was saying, in order for us to get to the Grand Line, I’ll need to upgrade the engine to make it through the Calm Belt. The island we’re on doesn’t have the parts I need, but this island and this island should,” she points to two islands. “Both are within range, but deciding which one we go to will determine where we start on the Grand Line.”

“We’re going to find my body before you go to the Grand Line, right?” you ask, worry lacing your voice in his head.

He sits back in thought. “Bepo, what do you think?” he asks.

The polar bear sitting next to him sits up. “If we go to Island One, we’ll start further back on the Grand Line. But if we go to Island Two, we’d start in more dangerous parts with no experience.”

“Yeah, but we can handle it!” Shachi slams his hand on the table excitedly. Penguin agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Law holds up a hand to silence them. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Starting further back on the Grand Line isn’t ideal, but it would give us more experience,” he reasons.

“I also have a reliable source that says the parts we need will be on Island One,” Ikkaku states.

He pushes himself out of his chair. “Then it’s settled. We’ll head out to Island One tomorrow, where Ikkaku…”

“Ku,” you correct again, interrupting him.

He pauses, shaking his head. “Ikkaku can get the parts, and then we’ll head straight to the Grand Line.”

Everyone in the room nods, standing and filing out.

“Law?” you question. “We are going to figure this problem out first, right?”

He turns, facing the porthole. “Yes, Ish, we’ll figure this out first,” he says quietly.

“Captain?”

He turns to find Ikkaku standing beside him, looking puzzled.

“Yes, Ikkaku?”

“Ku.”

He frowns at the sound of your voice in his head, and Ikkaku raises an eyebrow.

“Are you alright, Captain? You’ve been acting weird.”

He relaxes his face and nods. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Ikkaku smiles. “Good. Can’t have our captain having second thoughts. Once we enter the Grand Line, there’s no coming back.”

He nods. “Yes, I know.”

Ikkaku turns to leave. “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Ik…” he begins.

“Ku!”

“Ku!” he repeats, the word catching in his throat. Ikkaku freezes. He spins around to face the porthole. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses to you.

“Her name is Ku,” you say.

“And how would you know that?” he questions.

“I just do,” you pout.

He groans before turning back to see Ikkaku still frozen. “Ikkaku?” He reaches out to touch her shoulder, but she yanks away, leaving him confused.

“Don’t ever call me that!” she yells, spinning around aggressively.

He raises his hand defensively. “I’m sorry, it just slipped.” He raises a brow. “Wait. Why?”

Ikkaku’s breath hitches. A flicker of pain crosses her face before she schools her features into a neutral expression. She lets out a small, shaky breath. “Captain,” she says, her voice barely a whisper, “I forgave you a long time ago…but some things still hurt.”

He looks down at the woman, confused, his eyes darting around, searching for answers, but he can’t find a response. What did I do? he wonders, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach.

Ikkaku turns and storms out.

“What was that about?” you question.

“I… don’t remember,” he admits, a wave of guilt washes over him.

-------------------------------------------

A/N: Thanks for reading Part 3 will hopefully come out by the end of the week and will probably be the last part if not then the second to last. Please let me know what you think 😁.

Anyways if you enjoyed this and wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[etheries1015]

"Oh?" Sariel said amusingly to the cold blonde prince, "I figured you two would get along nicely, seein as (y/n) is the author of one of your favorite books." Chevalier paused, eyes widening slightly in shock before going reverting back to normal cold stare.

"Oh!" You chirped up, "you've read my books? which one is your favorite?" You chuckled excitingly, not getting much of a reaction out of the brutal beast.

"I was not aware you were an author," Chev said, looking at you, "Be that is it may; You do not seem to conduct yourself the way you write." You scrunched your nose together and pursed your lips.

"Ouch," You chuckled, "What a backhanded compliment, thank you."

"Huh?" Luke chimed in with a tilted head, "But when looking into your background your name wasn't anywhere linked to any sort of author," He pointed out, a smile of admiration playing on his features. You shrugged before teasingly responding, "Haven't you heard of a pen name?" Raising an impressed eyebrow, Noktos lips curled up in a sly smile. "Oh? You'll have to tell me what it is, so I can read it myself, I would love to see what our precious Belle can do. Do you have a copy with you?"

Clavis roared out in laughter, pulling a very familiar book from behind his back, handing it over to Nokto. Where had he gotten that? Nobody knows, and never will, I suppose.

"I had already known of your writing endeavors!" He boasted, "Yours truly even took a read. Although, I fear your story lacks a very distinct amount of fun..."

Silvio, who was also listening in, decided to take the liberty of snatching the book out of Noktos hand, asking what only any businessman would ask.

"So...how much of a profit have ya made off of your books?" He studied it dubiously in hand, feeling the grooves of the spine and quality of the pages, "You must be pretty well off if it's considered the 'brutal beasts' favorites." With a haughty smile, he naturally threw in, "If I like it enough, I might even invest in it, if you'll make a deal with me, I'll be sure all of Benetoite knows your name, lady." Sighing slightly you gave him a side glance before rolling your eyes.

"I make enough to be content. what matters is that others enjoy my writing, not how much I make off of it." You replied bluntly. Silvio only scoffed before keith also gave his two cents, holding out his hand for Silvio to hand him your book. With a startled look, his eyes lit up in excitement.

"I've read this book! you wrote it? I'm a huge fan of all of your works, the way you write is so mesmerizing it's difficult to put it down! Would you mind uh- ah..." He stopped himself with a blush tainting his cheeks, "I'm sorry! You must not like being bombarded with all of my questions. I-" You interrupted Keith with a hearty chuckle.

"Don't worry Keith, let's have tea and sweets sometime and you can ask me all you want." You threw a side glance at Chevalier, "You're welcome to join as well, Prince Chevalier." He glanced up from his paperwork in hand only for a mere second, enough for you to understand he heard what you had suggested.

"Ah-" Keith started as Gilberts hand snaked from behind and snatched the book out of his hand, flipping the book to it's back to read the synopsis. He looked up at you with his piercing red eye, his smile unwavering as he tucked the hardcover under his arm.

"A noblewoman writing a book in an alias," He hummed, "I believe any other would like their name to be well known, to bring up their family name and increase the likelihood of their popularity," You froze in place and glanced around the room for an awkward moment, trying to think of some excuse to tell the Obsidianite prince. After a moment of silence, he let out a low giggle, turning on his heel and heading out the door.

"I'm only teasing, little rabbit. Thank you for the book, I sincerely hope you do not disappoint. After all, if he (chev) likes it, surely it must have its merits. I will find you when I'm done, I want to join in on your little tea party to discuss my thoughts as well." You sucked in your breath as he left the room, your pursed lips coming apart with a 'pop!'.

"Well," You chuckled nervously, grabbing the drink Silvio had graced you with and lifting it in the air before downing the contents, "Here's to hoping he likes the book!"

[mylo-space]

Stitched and Stone

Summary: Wukong and Macaque were never very concerned about the demons that intruded on their home. There was no fight they couldn't win, and it made Flower Fruit Mountain the safest place on Earth. But winning doesn't stop Macaque from being flesh and blood, and safe doesn't mean the fights don't leave scars. guys, i can't write summaries. it's soft past shadowpeach stuff.

Posted on Ao3: 2023-10-19 Word Count: 8,279

-

The annoying thing about being king were the demons who decided it was a good idea to challenge his rule. Wukong had long since gotten used to various demons looking to pick a fight, and it’d almost become more of a nuisance than a concern. Fortunately, as his reputation grew, fewer and fewer challengers appeared to fight him. Unfortunately, the ones that did had started bringing small armies with them.

The demons were especially difficult to deal with when it was dark. For all his many powers, he had yet to find a way to see at night. As he tore through a crowd of demons, he also lamented that he hadn’t found a way to control the weather, as a tropical storm had started showering the mountain with torrents of rain. He’d considered making a few clones to help, but they couldn’t see any better than he could, and he’d accidentally hit two of the five he made at the beginning of the fight.

“Wukong!” he heard Macaque shout from somewhere across the battlefield. “I thought it couldn’t rain on this stupid mountain!”

Wukong swung his staff at a noise to the left, the iron colliding with some blurry figure darting around the trees. “It can't!” he confirmed. “One of these guys must have struck a deal with a thunder god or something.”

“Great!” Macaque grunted, striking down a vaguely fish-shaped demon. “Someone else whose ass we gotta kick later.” Wukong felt a hand tug his arm. “Get down!”

He’d learned not to question when Macaque gave him direction, often hearing threats that Wukong couldn’t, and so he ducked, feeling Macaque’s spiked staff ruffle his hair as he swung at a demon making a jump for them. “Getting pretty tired of this,” Wukong muttered irritatedly. “Feels like there’s no end to them.”

“Yeah,” Macaque said, and his hand was back on Wukong’s arm. “Portaling, now.”

“What?” Wukong tried to protest, because they couldn’t just leave the horde of demons roaming the mountain, but Macaque was already pulling him through. “Wait, we can’t-” He closed his eyes against the shadows, falling hard on something slim and instinctively wrapping his arms around it to stay steady. “Macaque!” He yelped, claws digging into the grooves of a tree branch. “What are you-”

A hand fit itself over his mouth. “Quiet,” Macaque hissed. “I’m thinking.”

Wukong batted Macaque’s hand away and sat up on the branch, tail lashing to keep himself balanced on the rain-slicked tree. “We don’t have time for-”

“Sh.”

“There are demons swarming the mountain,” Wukong persisted. “I can still hear them from here, put me back!”

Macaque inhaled sharply. “Okay, I got it.” Wukong opened his mouth to protest again, but Macaque had a hand on his shoulder before he could manage a word, locking eyes with a determined expression that had the king’s mouth snapping shut again. “They’re overwhelming us, and you can’t see.”

“I mean, I can see a little.”

“Not good enough,” Macaque said.

“I don’t have to see them to hit them, Macaque!”

“They’re going to try and regroup,” Macaque continued, paying Wukong’s protests no mind. “I’m gonna get between them and the cave, and you need to get between them and the bottom of the mountain.” He paused for a moment, and Wukong could see a flicker of magic flash by Macaque’s ears. “I’ll hear if any demons get too close to the troupe and stop them, then I’ll work my way towards you and take out everyone I can.”

“But-”

Macaque shook his shoulder. “Listen to me,” he scolded, “we don’t have time.” Six delicate points fanned out from the sides of Macaque’s head. “It’s dark, and I have the advantage of being out of sight. Turn into something that can see at night–a wolf, a fox, I don’t care–and keep them distracted. It’ll be easier to take these guys down if they’re spread out and disoriented. With both of us thinning the horde, they’ll either all die, or they’ll start retreating.”

And there was a pretty integral part of the plan that Wukong had an issue with, the separating, not wanting Macaque to be out of sight with danger crawling up the mountain. Which made it all the more frustrating that it was actually a really good plan. “Alright,” Wukong relented, knowing that he didn’t have the time to argue, “but you come find me if the troupe is in danger.”

A chuckle echoed around the trees as Macaque opened another portal, “Don’t worry,” he said, eyes alight with a familiar purple flame, “the demons won’t even get close.”

Wukong knew better than to question the legitimacy of Macaque’s claim. As much as he was the king and ruler of Flower Fruit Mountain, Macaque was easily the better protector. Even without Wukong on the mountain with him, Macaque had managed to keep Flower Fruit Mountain safe, granting any demon that crossed his path the mercy of not living long enough to regret the decision.

Dropping from the tree, Wukong shrank his staff to hide it in his ear, overtaken by golden smoke as he took the lithe form of a wolf. His eyes pierced the dark with ease as he tore through the forests. Really, he should have thought of his transformations sooner, and he was sure he’d hear some teasing from Macaque about it once they were safe in the cave.

He slowed as he approached the sound of clanging metal and angry voices, the demons having indeed started regrouping, struggling to come up with a plan to take down Wukong and Macaque. Wukong’s new toothy maw itched to surge forward and sink into something, but Macaque had a plan, and he’d stick to it.

There was a flash of golden light as Wukong turned back into himself, startling the demons that had gathered together. “Hey!” he called. “This whole storm thing ain’t working out for you, huh?” He was met with a roar of voices that made him wonder if there was any clear leader in this little army, as they all began rushing forward at once. “Yeah, come and get me,” he muttered, turning back into a wolf and darting into the underbrush.

Wukong ran until the voices became distant, then stopped to shift his form again, hiding in the trees as the demons began running past him, slowing once they’d realized Wukong was no longer in sight. It was almost amusing, in a way, watching their faint outlines in the rain, prowling around the area where they’d last seen him, fanning out to try and find him faster.

It was only a matter of time before they were spread out enough that Wukong was certain they couldn’t overwhelm him. He pulled his staff from his ear and jumped on the demon closest to the tree he’d been using as refuge, only a startled cry escaping the creature before being silenced. There were shouts of alarm from the other demons, trying to figure out which one of them had just been struck down and where, giving Wukong enough time to bring his staff down on three more intruders before they found him.

Their efforts to track him were proven fruitless as Wukong once again assumed the form of a wolf and retreated to the trees. It became a sort of rhythm, running and stopping, preying on the demons who let their guard down, losing them in the dense forests only to reappear from the trees and from behind boulders, hiding in bushes and tall grass that whipped his face in the storm.

And he wouldn’t be the Monkey King if he didn’t do his fair share of taunting, whispering to some stray demons from above, sending clones to snap sticks and tree branches, tricking demons into attacking the copies so that Wukong could strike from behind. He became a fox and an owl and even a snake once, just to really mess with a few demons that had started straggling behind.

By the time that the demon army realized that their numbers had been absolutely devastated, Wukong had become almost bored with the runaround. If Macaque had taken out as many demons as he had, the horde would have been thinned to maybe a quarter of its original size. A few dozen demons were child’s play to the King of Flower Fruit Mountain, and the diminished horde knew it.

It wasn’t an official surrender, but it was a victory for Wukong nonetheless, seeing demons stumble over themselves to get off the mountain. He wondered for a brief moment if Macaque had done that intentionally, telling Wukong to lure them to the bottom of the mountain so that they could make a swift escape from the island.

Probably, Wukong decided, Macaque was always good about planning things like that. An efficient strategy on all fronts.

The storm began dying down, and Wukong didn’t quite care enough to figure out which god of thunder aided this demon army in trying to catch him and Macaque off guard. But he would be sending a strongly worded letter to the Celestial Realm about what weather was and wasn’t allowed on his mountain.

Regardless of who was responsible for what, the fight was won. “Yes!” Wukong cheered, pumping his fists in the air so fast that it jolted every sore muscle in his body. “Ah- woah, okay,” he winced, lowering his arms and dusting off his hanfu as best he could with his clothes soaked from the rain. “Man, I’m glad that worked.”

Suddenly remembering he hadn’t been alone in the fight, Wukong whirled around in search of Macaque. With the trail of demons he came across, it seemed as though Macaque’s plan had gone accordingly. Which didn’t really surprise Wukong as much as it did make pride swell in his chest, just further confirmation that his trust in Macaque to protect the mountain in his absence was well-deserved.

Wukong broke through a clearing, a grin splitting his face as a familiar outline came into view. “Macaque!” He called, “Dude, that was amazing!” he exclaimed. “I got ‘em to follow me, just like you said! And then- in the trees and I, you know, woosh! And they couldn’t see me, I totally wiped them out and…” his enthusiastic rant trailed off as Macaque staggered a bit. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Macaque turned, blinking and offering a smile that shook at the corners. “Yeah, I’m… pretty sure.” His eyes fluttered a bit. “I- did we get them all?”

“Yeah,” Wukong said slowly, “yeah, we got them, just-” HIs gaze caught on Macaque’s hanfu, torn nearly in half. “What happened to your shirt?”

Macaque lifted a hand to tug at the torn collar in surprise. “Huh,” he mumbled, “that’s… weird, I don’t-”

“Macaque?” Wukong took a cautious step. “Mac, what’s wrong?” There was something dark on Macaque’s hand as he drew it back, staining the tan fur on his palm and chest. A sharp, coppery smell reached Wukong as Macaque stumbled, darkness pooling the more he moved, too liquid to be his shadows. “Macaque!”

Wukong surged forward before Macaque attempted another step, and the shadow fell against him. Macaque made a sound Wukong didn’t recognize, a strained wheeze that punched out of Macaque’s chest before he tried pushing himself away. “I’m okay, I’m-”

“Stop,” Wukong demanded, clutching Macaque tighter to him. “Macaque, stop, what-” Something warm seeped into Wukong’s sleeve, realization dawning, a violent nausea churning the pit of his stomach. “No… no, no.” Macaque’s knees buckled a bit as Wukong pulled away, which made it all the easier for the king to slip an arm under his legs and lift him into the air.

Macaque drew a sharp breath as Wukong lifted him. “What’re you-”

“Shut up,” Wukong hissed, summoning a dark wisp of condensation left over from the storm. “I mean, don’t- no, don’t shut up, actually, keep talking to me.” The cloud swooped low for Wukong to step up, then whisked them both into the sky. “Tell me what hurts.”

There was a beat of silence, nothing but the wind rushing past Wukong’s ears, and then Macaque jolted in his grasp, “I-” he gasped for air, only for the oxygen to stutter and rip itself back out of Macaque’s lungs in a pained groan. “I can’t-”

Wukong cursed as the energy seeped out of Macaque, leaving a limp, trembling shadow in his arms. “Mac, talk to me.” Macaque shook his head stubbornly, shifting in Wukong’s arms in a feeble attempt at escape and prompting the sage to hold him tighter. “No, Macaque, you need to hold still.”

“Hurts,” Macaque managed, sounding both surprised and angry to be saying it out loud. Wukong had told the warrior before not to hide injuries from him, and he’d gotten very good at noticing Macaque’s subtle limps and careful, practiced movements meant to hide bandaged joints. Macaque prided himself on being able to handle pain, in his ability to keep up with the stone-skinned monkey, and Wukong wasn’t sure he wanted to know how grievous the injury was if Macaque was admitting that it hurt.

“We can fix this,” Wukong promised, though he didn’t know what it was he had to fix. He just knew there was something, there was blood and Macaque was hurt, and he was going to fix it if it was the last thing he did in the Mortal Realm. “Just hang on, okay? I’ll fix it.”

Macaque hummed, nodding against Wukong’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft, distant, “whatever you say, Wukong.”

Emotion crawled up Wukong’s throat before he could manage another word, lodging itself there as something thicker than rainwater ran over his hands. He blinked away a burning behind his eyes and urged the cloud faster, running his thumb over Macaque’s arm as comfortingly as he could manage. Never before had he wished that he could trade his cloud for a portal, preferring the wind in his hair to the cool rush of shadows, but with Macaque’s breath coming shallower with every second, Wukong couldn’t help but curse the fact that he didn’t have his own pool of darkness buried in his chest somewhere.

The flight back to Water Curtain Cave couldn’t have been longer than a half a minute, but it felt closer to an hour, Macaque curling tighter against him to shy away from the cold night air. “Home,” Wukong whispered hoarsely, the gold seal over the cave parting just enough for the cloud to zip through, lowering its passengers to the ground before dissipating. “We’re home,” he told Macaque, ignoring the way his voice wavered. “Now, we gotta- uh…” His limbs locked up with indecision for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

He was certain they had supplies to deal with almost any illness or injury, between Wukong’s cloud-jumping and Macaque's teleportation, they had the means to acquire medicines, ointments, and cures from all over the world. It was the matter of remembering where those supplies were, and what he would need to treat the stab wound. Or the gash, or the burn, or the whatever it was, and perhaps the first thing Wukong should have done was set Macaque down.

The shadow made a small noise as Wukong began walking. He tried to keep his gait steady, but the awkward weight of Macaque in his arms and the exhaustion from their fight caused a tremor in his steps. Still, he made it to one of the alcoves they used as rooms. Macaque had his own a little further back in the cave, away from the unrelenting sound of the outside world, but Wukong’s was closer, and the door easily shouldered open.

Distantly, Wukong could hear his subjects stirring, chattering to each other curiously, calling out to their king, and he ignored them. Not something he was in the habit of doing, but Wukong felt Macaque might slip away from him the second he shifted his focus, so he pressed forward.

“Here we go,” he muttered, placing Macaque on the blankets as gently as he could. “Just gotta- yep. There-” Macaque grunted as he fell back against the bed, eyes screwing shut at the impact. “Sorry!” Wukong gasped. “Sorry, I’m sorry-”

“S’okay,” Macaque grabbed Wukong’s forearm. “It’s just- I’m okay, promise. Just hurts.”

Wukong shook his head. Just hurts. He maneuvered so that he could look at Macaque’s injury without forcing the warrior to let him go. Macaque wasn’t the cuddliest monkey to ever walk the mountain, but Wukong knew he drew a certain amount of comfort from physical contact. “This is gonna suck, but I gotta get a better look at what we’re dealing with.”

Macaque’s free hand tugged weakly at his hanfu. “This,” he managed, “it’s- I can-”

“I got it,” Wukong reached to carefully peel back Macaque’s hanfu, grateful that he didn’t have to try and wrestle the fabric over Macaque’s head. “Oh,” he swallowed back something acidic as the injury was exposed to the air, two wounds that looked like the slash of a sword, crossed over Macaque’s chest in a near perfect ‘X’. His claws clutched at Macaque’s hanfu like that might somehow help hold the shadow together. “That- Macaque, I’m gonna be honest, that looks bad.”

“Feels bad,” Macaque wheezed, his hold on Wukong’s arm loosening, “looks worse than it is.” He was still talking, just as Wukong had asked, but his voice was ragged from fighting its way to open air. “Hurts, but… it can’t be- I’ve, uh,” his brow furrowed, dazed and confused, like the act of putting thoughts into words was suddenly an exhausting task and he didn’t know why, “I’ve probably had worse, I think.”

Any worse, and Macaque might have been dead before Wukong made it to the clearing, which was something the king didn’t want to consider for very long. Wukong bitterly hoped the demons responsible were grateful to Macaque for banishing them to Underworld himself, because Wukong would not have been particularly merciful if he’d gotten the honor of sending them to kneel before the Ten Kings.

“Are we-” Macaque’s gaze darted around the room, “this isn’t my room.”

“My room was closer,” Wukong explained, tucking Macaque’s hanfu back to reveal the whole of the injury. The wound spanned the entire left side of Macaque’s chest, an angry crimson blossoming through the tan fur, deep enough that Wukong could see a layer of fat under the pools of blood. “Don’t worry about it.”

Macaque’s face twisted. “But it’s gonna… I’m bleeding. On your blanket.”

“Don’t care,” Wukong said. Macaque tried to protest, but Wukong placed a gentle hand over his mouth. “Nope.” There were far more important things to worry about, and Wukong refused to let Macaque fret over the state of a bed. The blanket was replaceable, Macaque was not. “I need you to wait here for a second, okay? Need to grab some stuff to help you.”

Slowly, Macaque nodded, and Wukong let his hand fall away. Macaque swallowed, eyes fluttering tiredly. “Supplies are in the washroom,” he muttered. “Shelves.”

Wukong offered him a smile. “Thank you.” He stepped back from Macaque slowly, allowing the claws in his sleeve to detach carefully. “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” The last bit might have been a wholly unnecessary addition, as Macaque was thoroughly pinned in place by his injury. Still, Wukong felt the need to remind him. Knowing Macaque, he’d probably try and patch himself through sheer willpower alone, and Wukong wouldn’t have it.

His hands still trembled as he left, the cave now filled with curious monkeys trying to peek around him and into the room. He closed the door enough that they couldn’t see inside, but open enough that Wukong would be able to slip through again with his hands full. The subjects of Flower Fruit Mountain had always liked Macaque, even before Wukong liked Macaque, and no doubt the scent of blood was causing alarm for the troupe.

“It’s alright,” Wukong told them gently, making his way to the washroom and exploring the shelves next to the basin. “He’s gonna be okay,” and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince his troupe or his reflection, but he kept repeating the reminder as he pulled down a few boxes of supplies to look through.

Macaque might have laughed at him for being so incompetent, a good-natured tease as he guided Wukong’s hands to the correct box. He found himself a bit overwhelmed by the amount of supplies in the boxes, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised. Macaque had always taken his role as a warrior seriously, protecting Flower Fruit Mountain from any foe, be that demons or injury or illness. 

But, for the moment, it was Wukong’s turn to fend off the danger, and he reached into the boxes to arm himself. Alcohol to sterilize, and an ointment made of aloe to keep out bacteria, it’d do the shadow no good to battle an infection alongside his injury. He found rolls of bandages and, in a small container that Wukong almost missed, a needle and thread.

Wukong hesitated for only a moment before taking the needle and thread and grabbing towels from a shelf higher up. The towels unfolded in his haste to leave the washroom, one even falling to the ground, but Wukong paid it no mind. He’d come back for it later.

A fearful chattering followed Wukong back to his room, pushing open the door only to stop as several monkeys tried to force their way inside. “Hey, no,” he scolded softly. “Not right now, okay? Let me get him fixed up, and then you can see him.”

The elders on the mountain were far more used to injury than some of the younger members of the troupe. Wrinkled hands reached for the restless infants and pulled them away from Wukong’s door, knowing that whatever rested upon his bed wasn’t for young eyes to see.

When he was certain that the troupe was calm–as calm as they could be with a bedridden protector–Wukong went inside and closed the door behind him. “Okay,” he breathed, “I think I got everything.” He moved back to Macaque’s side, setting the supplies haphazardly on the bedside  table and the towels atop his blanket. “Now we just-” His gaze flicked to Macaque’s face, eyes closed and lips parted enough for puffs of shallow breath. “Macaque?”

Wukong shook Macaque’s shoulder as much as he dared and tapped a paling cheek, but there was no sign of consciousness to be found. If it were simply exhaustion, Wukong might feel a little better, but with blood still oozing from the shadow’s chest, fear seized the king by the throat. Panicked, he placed a hand just under Macaque’s jaw, pressing fingertips into the pulsepoint just to make sure there was something still there to feel.

And there was a pulse, much to the king’s relief, but it was slow, too sluggish for his liking. So, he pulled away and snatched up a towel, folding it in halves until it fit the wound, and placed it carefully over Macaque’s chest. The warrior made a sound as Wukong pressed on the injury, and for a moment he almost recoiled in fear of hurting Macaque more than he already had, but he persisted. He couldn’t treat the injury if he couldn’t see it, and he couldn’t stitch it closed with black fur so slicked with blood.

It could have been an eternity that Wukong stayed trying to stop the flow of blood, eventually pulling a second towel from his pile and pressing it to the wound. When the blood had finally slowed to a less disturbing dribble, Wukong was able to inspect the injury without fear of more pooling crimson. The issue that remained was the blood that stuck to Macaque’s fur. “Water,” he muttered to himself. “Of course, I forgot something.”

Reluctantly, he left Macaque again to retrieve water. After some rummaging around, he managed to find a bowl, and he brought it outside to a stream that ran past the cave. It was a pretty decent size, but there was so much blood matting Macaque’s fur that Wukong would no doubt have to refill it with clean water at some point.

He wondered briefly if Macaque might be willing to help him set up something in the cave, a clever mortal invention that allowed running water inside one’s home without having to run back and forth to a water source. There were plenty of streams that ran through Flower Fruit Mountain, and he was sure they could figure it out if the mortals could. Though he’d perhaps bring up the idea after Macaque was healed, lest the shadow try and start the task right away.

Wukong watched the bowl as he walked back into the cave, careful not to spill the contents as he waded through the crowd of monkeys that had gathered. They didn’t try getting into the room again, but that didn’t make them any less anxious, and the elders had started grooming through some of the younger monkeys’ fur in an attempt to calm them. Wukong nodded his thanks before retreating back into his room.

Macaque’s position was unchanged from where Wukong had left him, aside from his head twisting to bury one half of his face into a pillow. “I’m back,” he told the shadow quietly. To any other unconscious form, the words of reassurance might not have mattered, but Macaque’s ears still flicked at the sound, and his head turned to find Wukong’s voice again. “Gotta press on this again,” he warned, taking a clean towel and soaking it in water. “Kinda glad you’re asleep for this, actually,” he said absently, “stitching this up is not gonna be fun for you.”

Not that it was going to be particularly fun for Wukong, either. It’d been a while since he’d needed to stitch up anything other than their clothes, and the needle and thread sitting on his bedside table were quite possibly the most intimidating tools he’d ever seen. Stitching flesh together was… an uncomfortable thought, but he knew Macaque would do it without hesitation, with sure hands and a playful taunt for good measure, so Wukong furrowed his brow and grit his teeth and busied himself with cleaning the fur around the Macaque’s wound.

He wasn’t necessarily afraid of Macaque dying, though he kept pressing his fingertips to the shadow’s pulse just to reassure himself. The wound was deep, but they’d caught it fast and the blood had stopped its flow. Macaque’s chest rose and fell steadily, with only the occasional stutter of pain, but there was just something about seeing Macaque lying in a pool of blood that made him uneasy.

If there was anything to provide Wukong with some sense of ease, it was that Macaque, despite not being as invincible as Wukong, did heal pretty fast. Most small cuts and bruises were gone in a day or so, gashes healing into scars within a week. A wound of this size would probably take a little while longer, but that wasn’t unmanageable. The hardest part would be keeping Macaque in bed.

When the water in the bowl began turning an off-color pink, Wukong sighed and stood. “I’ll be back,” he said, gathering the soiled towels and tossing them into a corner somewhere. “Sometimes I wish you were made of stone, you know that?” He took the bowl of water and added, “Hate seeing you like this.”

Macaque, of course, had no response for him, so he left. The elders had begun herding infants back to their nests, and Wukong was thankful that they couldn’t see the tainted water from the other side of the cave. The scent was unmistakable, surely they knew Macaque was bleeding, but Wukong could at least shield them from how deep the wound ran.

When Macaque was bandaged and awake, he’d let the troupe swarm the warrior all they liked. Until then, Wukong would tend to Macaque as gently as his stone hands knew how.

He disposed of  the bowl’s contents outside, pouring the bloodied water into the stream. Kneeling on the soft bank, he rinsed all traces of red from the bowl and watched the ribbons of pink flow swiftly down the current. When he was certain the bowl was clear of old blood, he refilled it and stood, returning to his task of cleaning Macaque’s wound.

It was a methodical process, gently working the blood that had started drying to Macaque’s fur; Wukong found it almost grounding, in a way, his hands slowly losing their tremor the longer he felt Macaque’s heartbeat under his hands. For just one split second, he considered what would have happened if the weapon had been stabbed into Macaque’s chest rather than slashed across his flesh, if there’d still be a heartbeat under his fingertips if the demon who wounded Macaque had been just a bit bolder.

He swallowed the growl that rose in his chest at the thought, forcing himself to remember that the demon had been taken care of already. There was no one else that could hurt Macaque that night.

Wukong had to pull his hand away at the sight of protruding white bone. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if it was cause for concern, not having this kind of issue with his own stone skin and near invincibility. It wasn’t like he could wake Macaque and ask, so Wukong simply continued. It wasn’t a lot of bone, a mere nick, really, and as soon as he got Macaque stitched up, it wouldn’t even matter.

Still, that didn’t make the sight of Macaque’s ribcage any less unsettling, regardless of how little was actually visible. It was a painful reminder that it didn’t matter how immortal they became, Macaque was still flesh and blood. But the wound was finally clean enough to stitch, which Wukong knew was a good thing, despite how much he was going to hate what came next.

The bowl had once again turned a dull pink by the time he finished cleaning Macaque’s injury, so Wukong took it back  to the stream. He went through the process of rinsing and refilling mechanically, trying to map out a strategy for stitching Macaque’s wound, if there even was a strategy to prepare for such things. If Macaque were awake he wouldn’t worry so much, he’d trust the warrior to sit still enough for steady stitches.

But the shadow could hardly control himself unconscious, and if he flinched in his sleep, Wukong could hurt him. He’d only been a bit twitchy while Wukong cleaned the wound, but the needle was a bit more intrusive than a cloth. There were plenty of awful images that flitted through Wukong’s mind about the many worrisome and very incorrect ways that a needle could go through Macaque’s flesh.

Shuddering to himself, Wukong took his bowl of fresh water back into the cave. The troupe had largely settled, only a few of the elders stirring as Wukong walked to his room. He’d have to come up with a gentle explanation for what had happened that night, but that could be a problem in the morning, he decided.

He slipped into his room as quietly as he could so as to not disturb the infants that had managed to go back to sleep. A soft sigh escaped him as he pushed the door closed, steeling himself for the task that came next.

“Wukong?” The rasp startled Wukong as he turned to face Macaque, looking just barely awake in his bed. “Wha’s going on?”

“Hey,” Wukong said gently, setting the bowl back on the table. “Don’t worry, everything is fine.”

Macaque coughed out something that might have been a laugh if it weren’t for the way his vocal cords strained to be steady. “There’s a hole in my chest,” he said dryly.

“There’s an ‘X’ in your chest,” Wukong corrected as he took the bloodied towels and tossed them in the corner with the rest. “But!” he continued, “Not for very long, because I’m just about ready to start stitching you up.”

“Oh, good,” Macaque muttered, “glad I woke up for my favorite part.”

Wukong hummed in sympathy, grabbing a clean rag from the edge of the bed. “Well, it saves us the trouble of you moving in your sleep, at least.”

“Small blessings.” Macaque watched Wukong take the small bottle of alcohol and pour it on the rag. “Does the troupe know anything?”

“They know there’s blood,” Wukong said, “and they know it’s you,” he swiped the alcohol-soaked cloth across the needle, “but they didn’t see the injury. The elders have managed to get most of them back to sleep, but they’ll probably want to see you in the morning.”

Macaque smiled and shook his head. “Of course.” He tugged at his hanfu. “Can we take this off me before you start? It feels gross.”

Wukong hesitated for a moment. “I really don’t want you to start bleeding again.”

“It’s gonna bleed either way, Wukong,” Macaque huffed, “at least let me bleed comfortably.”

“You’re gonna have to sit up so I can get the bandages around you, anyway,” Wukong pointed out. “We can get it off then, okay? It’ll be a lot easier than trying to do it laying down.”

Still tugging uncomfortably at his ruined hanfu, Macaque considered Wukong’s request. “Fine,” he relented finally, “just be quick about the stitches, yeah?”

Making an unsure noise, Wukong clumsily pushed a silk thread through the eye of the needle. “I mean, I can try to be fast, but I’m not gonna risk making this worse.” Macaque huffed at that, but he didn’t counter. Which either meant he was too tired or in too much pain to argue. In either case, it had that anxiousness creeping back into Wukong’s chest. “Macaque?”

“It’s fine,” Macaque said, though his voice was pulled tight. “Just get this over with. Please.”

Wukong studied Macaque for a moment, watching his jaw set and his claws curl into the blanket in preparation. There wasn’t anything Wukong could do to make the process easier or less painful, and it left him feeling a bit helpless. He couldn’t even provide comfort with a needle and thread in his hands.

Although, when the king’s frantic mind gave it a couple seconds of thought, he realized that he might have a solution for that. Reaching up with his free hand, Wukong plucked a strand of hair from his head, blowing gently to form a clone sitting on the other side of Macaque. “Hey,” the copy greeted warmly.

Macaque blinked. “What-”

The clone took the shadow’s hand, gently prying the blanket from his claws. “Really should have thought of this sooner, huh?” Wukong smiled as Macaque’s shoulders untensed a bit. “I’ve been walking all the way to the stream to get clean water.”

“Oh, yeah?” Macaque asked, realizing the bleak comfort the clone was trying to provide, keeping him distracted while the real Wukong began the grueling process of stitching. “Incredible. A whole fifteen steps.”

“Mm-hm,” the clone pressed its palm to Macaque’s, curling its fingers loosely around the shadow’s trembling hand, “it’s actually thirty steps, when you think about it, fifteen steps both ways.” Macaque’s fingers twitched as Wukong placed a hand near the wound in warning. “And I did it three times.”

Wukong watched Macaque’s reaction carefully as he began pushing the needle through skin. “Oh, three times,” Macaque said mockingly, “can’t believe the Great Sage would waste his energy on… what? Eighty steps?” Macaque’s hand latched onto the clone’s as Wukong started stitching his flesh together.

“Ninety steps,” the clone corrected. “That’s, like, a whole workout.”

Macaque rolled his eyes. “You disappear for weeks to go train, and ninety steps is-” His breath hitched, his entire body seizing and his eyes screwing shut. Wukong’s head snapped up, his hand going to Macaque’s arm to stop it from twitching. “Okay,” Macaque grunted, “I’m okay.”

“It’s fine if you’re not,” Wukong told him. “We can take a break if-”

“No,” Macaque said through gritted teeth, not bothering to open his eyes to look at either Wukong in the room. “The faster you stitch this together, the sooner I can get out of this bed.” Wukong deliberated for a moment, knowing Macaque would forgo taking a break in favor of just getting it over with, and he didn’t want to overwhelm Macaque because the warrior decided he was too stoic to take a breather.

His clone glanced up, giving Wukong a minute knowing nod. If Macaque couldn’t decide when to take a break, Wukong’s clone could monitor it instead. “Alright,” Wukong relented, releasing the arm he'd been holding and placing his hand over Macaque’s chest, steadying both himself and the shadow as he went back to stitching. “We’re almost halfway there.”

“Hey, that’s good,” the clone said, taking Macaque’s hand in both of its own. “We’ll be done before you know it.” With a crooked grin, the clone informed him, “And you’re absolutely not getting out of bed, by the way. Not for, like, at least two weeks. Probably more.”

“Yeah?” Macaque challenged, finally cracking his eyes open. “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

“I have my ways,” the clone said.

“You ain’t got nothin’.” A small smile making its way to Macaque’s face. “I have portals.”

The clone hummed. “True,” it admitted, “but I have the softest blankets and the best hugs.”

Macaque’s voice was strained, pulled taunt with pain, but he still managed a chuckle. “Oh, hugs, you say,” he drawled. “How could I possibly refuse such a generous offer from the king?”

“You can’t refuse,” the clone informed him. “I simply will not let you.”

Wukong inhaled sharply as the needle caught awkwardly, Macaque’s barely concealed flinch not going unnoticed. “Almost done,” he promised. “We’ll get you bandaged up and then move you to your room, okay? And smother you with every blanket I can find.”

“As long as none of them are made of hair,” Macaque sighed.

The clone perked up. “Ah, so you’ve admitted defeat,” it exclaimed. “Don’t worry, bud, you’ll be the comfiest bedridden celestial primate in the realm.”

“Bedridden for the night, maybe,” Macaque said. “I’m exhausted. I’ll be your worst nightmare come morning, mark my words. I am not staying in bed.”

“Aw, are you sure I couldn’t persuade you?” the clone asked. “What if I bring you some fresh mangoes for breakfast?” Macaque looked like he was about to argue, then his face turned contemplative at the offer of breakfast in bed. “Yeah? Pretty good deal, right?”

Macaque huffed, though there was an unmistakable smile in his voice. “Whatever.” He turned to Wukong, who had started delicately tying off the stitches. “You done there?”

“Think we’ve got it.” Wukong set aside the needle and thread, picking up the small container of aloe. “Gotta put some of this on, and then we’ll start wrapping bandages.” He passed the bowl of water he'd set on the bedside table to the clone.

“No infections on our watch,” the clone agreed, releasing Macaque’s hand to take the bowl of water and a grab clean rag, gently dabbing away some stray droplets of blood from the stitches. “Can’t have you injured and sick. The elders would have a fit.”

“Don’t remind me,” Macaque groaned, the clone chuckling as it set the bowl aside. “Really not looking forward to being fussed over for the next two weeks.” He hissed a bit as Wukong began spreading ointment over the wound. “It’s fine,” he told Wukong before the king could ask if he was alright. “Just cold.”

Wukong winced. “Sorry,” he applied the ointment as quickly as he dared and then set the container back on the bedside table. “Alright, let’s sit you up.”

The clone slipped an arm under Macaque’s back. “Gonna go real slow, okay?”

“Yep,” Wukong supported Macaque on his side, gradually guiding Macaque to a sitting position., “nice and easy, bud.” The movement was slow, but a few pained, ragged breaths still escaped the shadow as he was moved. “You okay?”

“Never felt better.” Macaque looked down at himself. “Can I get a clean shirt, please?”

“I’m on it,” the clone slid off the bed and walked to the dresser tucked into the corner of Wukong’s room, pulling open drawers and sifting through clothes. “Find you something good and comfy, and get you moved.”

The room was quiet as Wukong began wrapping the bandages around Macaque’s chest. The clone spent much longer than necessary sorting through Wukong’s clothes, making sure Macaque didn’t have more of an audience for his vulnerability than necessary. Luckily, the bandages didn’t take long to wrap, just a few minutes of careful binding, and then Wukong sat back with a smile. “Okay! I think we’re all good here."

“Finally,” Macaque shifted like he was going to get off the bed, and Wukong stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wukong,” Macaque said sharply, halting any protests before Wukong could say a word. “My legs aren’t injured, I can stand.” He glanced up, his voice softening at the sight of Wukong’s concern. “I can get changed into new clothes by myself, alright? I’ll be careful.”

And as much as Wukong wanted to say ‘absolutely not’, he also knew how much Macaque valued his independence. Reluctantly, he nodded, “Okay,” he relented, “just yell if you need help with anything, okay?” he reassured himself knowing that he’d have every opportunity to tend to Macaque while the shadow healed, anyway. “Me and the clone will step out.”

“Thanks,” Macaque breathed.

The clone returned from the dresser with a loose fitting shirt and pants. “Got it from here, bud?”

Patting the clone on the shoulder, Wukong said, “Yeah, he’s got it.” He steered the copy towards the door. “C’mon! Let’s grab some blankets to smother him with.” Macaque snorted, which was enough to relieve some of the weight in Wukong’s chest.

Wukong left the door open a crack behind him, just in case Macaque needed him for anything. The clone immediately began padding around the cave in search of blankets for Macaque. Luckily, there were plenty of comfort items lying around, a necessary collection for a king with the world’s most affectionate subjects. And while the clone was busy, Wukong visited the stream one last time to clean off the blood that had dried on his skin and fur. 

He let the current flow over his hands for a few minutes, trying to suppress the urge to go check on Macaque, giving the shadow some time to dress himself. When he was certain that enough time had passed, and his claws had been thoroughly picked through and cleaned of blood, he stood and flicked the water from his hands, retreating back into the cave. The clone gave him a clumsy thumbs up with an armful of blankets, and trotted to Macaque’s room.

Making his way to his bedroom door, Wukong cleared his throat. “All good in there?”

“Yeah,” Macaque answered. “You can come in, if you need to.” Despite having permission, Wukong still opened the door cautiously. Macaque was dressed in a plain, loose fitting shirt that hung off his frame, and a pair of soft pants. If Wukong hadn’t just finished stitching his chest back together, he wouldn’t have guessed that Macaque was injured at all.

The shadow glanced up at him, brow furrowing.  “Should probably change your shirt, too,” Macaque noted as Wukong stepped in. “Got some, uh… you know.”

Alarmed, Wukong pulled out his shirt and looked down at it. It probably should have occurred to him sooner that carrying Macaque would leave a good amount of blood soaked into his own shirt, but it hadn’t really crossed his mind until Macaque pointed it out. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “The clone has some blankets ready in your room, if you wanna go ahead and-”

“Yep,” Macaque scrubbed his hands over his face wearily. “I’m ready for tonight to be over. Going to bed.” He slowly made his way to Wukong’s bedroom door, though he lingered at the door frame for a moment. “Are you, um… your bed kinda has a lot of blood on it, so- I mean, if you wanted to crash in my room, you’re more than welcome.”

Wukong smiled warmly. “Of course,” he replied, knowing that Macaque had a hard time asking for things like company and affection. “Lemme get changed and assign some clones to clean up, and then I’ll be there.”

Relief flitted across Macaque’s expression. “Alright,” he said, pushing open the door and leaving Wukong alone in his room. “Don’t take too long,” he added as he walked away, “I’m tired.”

The king shook his head at the shadow’s theatrics, smiling to himself as he dug through his dresser for something clean to wear. He took a few seconds to pull out a lock of hair, summoning a small team of four clones. “You guys mind cleaning up?” Wukong asked, tugging off his bloodied clothes. “Macaque and I had a rough night.”

Of course, the clones knew that, seeing as they were just Wukong, and they set to work cleaning up the towels and medical supplies, stripping the blood-soaked blanket and sheets off his bed. After a few seconds of wrestling with his clothes, Wukong passed them off to the nearest clone and tugged on his clean pajamas. They’d probably be at the cleaning for a while and, as a general rule, most clones weren’t too good about doing tedious work, but Wukong trusted them to do this job without his supervision. No Wukong wanted to stare at the aftermath of Macaque’s injury for longer than they had to.

A yawn stretched his jaw until it cracked, which Wukong took as a sign that he should head to Macaque’s room. Between the fight and the injury, he’d had his fair share of excitement for the next month or so. He’d promised Macaque breakfast in the morning, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if they both ended up sleeping for the entire day.

He made his way to Macaque’s room, nudging the door open to find his first clone and a bed piled high with blankets. “Where-”

“Under here,” the pile of blankets muttered. “Your stupid clone already buried me.”

“You’re welcome,” the clone replied, looking rather pleased with itself.

Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at Macaque’s predicament. “Go help the others clean up,” he told the clone, “I’ll take it from here.” The clone gave a mock salute and left, closing the door gently behind it. “Boy, that guy sure knows how to pile on the blankets, huh.”

“I literally cannot move,” Macaque deadpanned. Wukong walked over to the bed and pulled off the top few layers of blankets. “That’s a little better,” he muttered, “at least I can breathe again.” Macaque’s expression twisted in pain for a moment as he shifted, then he sighed and settled into his pillow. “I think I could sleep for a week after tonight.”

Humming in agreement, Wukong slid under the blankets. “Good,” he replied, his eyelids already dragging shut the moment his head hit the pillows. “You could use the rest.” Wukong heard the blankets rustle and cracked his eyes open, met with the sight of Macaque worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “What’s up?”

Macaque shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking.” He shifted again, struggling to get comfortable with his injury. “I’m probably gonna pop a stitch rolling over in my sleep or something. Not used to sleeping on my back.”

Wukong frowned. “Well, can’t have that.” He wriggled his way through the blankets so that he was closer to Macaque, sliding an arm over the shadow’s stomach and holding him as close as he could without disturbing the bandages. “Think this’ll help?”

“I… uh, yeah,” Macaque stammered, “probably.” It wasn’t unfamiliar territory for either of them, sleeping in the same bed, more often than not waking up with their limbs tangled together. But no matter how often Wukong showered Macaque with affection, he always seemed surprised that the king would willingly be so close to him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Wukong nuzzled into the pillows and closed his eyes. “Now get to sleep. King’s orders.”

“Yes, sir, Your Majesty,” Macaque replied tiredly.

It didn’t take long for Macaque’s breathing to even out, falling asleep within minutes of laying down, but despite his own exhaustion, Wukong couldn’t help but feel restless.

He had never liked seeing Macaque hurt, and he didn’t like seeing the scars that these kinds of injuries could cause. Macaque, of course, never cared too much, having scars from even before Wukong knew him. It came with having flesh and blood instead of stone skin.

Wukong hoped that the mark would fade entirely as it healed, but he knew it was a long shot. At the very least, maybe Macaque’s fur would grow over most of it and leave only a small ‘X’-shaped remnant of the gaping wound. Just one more scar among the many that spanned Macaque’s body, a mere inconvenience to the Shadow of Flower Fruit Mountain, but a haunting reminder to the King.

Swallowing back the bitter hatred of his own incompetence, Wukong gently curled himself tighter around Macaque. He breathed the tension out of his body as Macaque’s tail thumped under the blankets, seeking out Wukong’s, and unconsciously winding them together. With his last fleeting moments of consciousness, Wukong vowed to absolutely cosset the bedridden warrior when the sun came back up.

[toorusluvr]

❥ ҉   CHAPTER SEVEN - BACK IN THE GROOVE

❥ ҉ CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of reader having anxiety in earlier paragraphs + smut in chapter + penetration sex + p in v + protected sex

❥ ҉ NOTE FROM NIS: hello it's me again omg it's been so long since the last update i truly apologise for the late updates! i'm trying my best to finally finish this series! anyway, enjoy chapter 7! i felt like i have forgotten how to write good lord please bear with me.... as usual, reblogs, likes, and comments are very very much appreciated! <3

[previous][series masterlist][next]

After you have been discharged from the hospital, nothing has really changed. Everything feels numb, and you can’t feel any emotions at all. Literally. It always feels like life is on loop. You go to school, eat, cry yourself to sleep, and repeat. Your eyes are begging you to stop crying but you just… couldn’t . 

Iwaizumi witnessed you being trapped in your soulless body. Sometimes you just spaced out with no expressions at all. It’s heartbreaking to see you this way because it reminds him so much of himself, which is why he doesn’t want you to be this way for any longer. Breakups happen every time but the post-breakup? It’s like your entire soul is being tortured. He does not know how he can console you because he himself was struggling for a long time until he realized that his life didn’t end when his relationship was over. 

Sure, some people would say high school relationships don’t matter but to him, it was the first time he discovered that he is indeed capable of loving someone. But the grief of losing them afterwards… Iwaizumi was almost sure he didn’t want to fall in love again if it hurt this bad. 

Iwaizumi would say he has moved on from his ex-girlfriend. To be saying he didn’t feel any ounce of hurt after finding out that Semi cheated on you with his ex, that would be a big slap to the face. Fuck it, he was deeply offended and hurt at the same time. If anything, he’d be sure to destroy the man in the face for cheating. Semi and his ex-girlfriend – God knows what business do they have with each other, can go to fucking hell for cheating. Iwaizumi did not want to play the victim here, shit– he was indeed a victim, but his ex-girlfriend went out of her way to cheat with multiple guys while they were in a relationship. In the end, Iwaizumi would still take her back because he has always thought every relationship has its ups and downs. That was solely his mistake for being so naive. 

You stared at the blank blackboard in front of the class, not hearing Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been calling your name several times. Then, you felt a hard smack on your shoulder, snapping into reality. “OW!” you groaned in pain. You looked over to your right side, where you could see Oikawa was fuming mad (well, not really) while glaring at you.

“We’ve been calling your name for the past few minutes,” Oikawa enunciated the last three words. You could sense he was a bit annoyed that you didn’t hear him calling. His expression proved it all. It’s not exactly that he could hide his expressions well. He just loves being dramatic sometimes. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you cleared your throat as you turned your body to face him. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes at you, “Iwa-chan was asking you if you wanted to be his partner for the project. I am teamed up with someone else because we did our last project together. Iwa did it solo but this project needs to be a pair work. Can you partner up with him?” 

You looked at Iwaizumi, who was sitting behind both of you in class. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer. A glimpse of his tan skin and the luscious lips… wait . Hooking up with him is one thing and partnering up with him for a project is another. But what could hurt? Your soul is already damaged, anyway. This decision can go straight to your list of disappointments and regrets. 

“Sure, why not?” you answered with a smile. “You good if we start working on it after school, Iwa? I want to get it done as soon as possible. You don’t have to skip practice, just come to my house after practice ends. I’ll text you my address later.” 

“I was thinking of asking you that earlier. Sure, I’ll come to your house later,” Iwaizumi agreed with the plan you made. The earlier you get the project done, the better. He needs to focus on the assessments, the upcoming exam, and also the preliminary. The pressure he has on himself is crazy. But, people don’t always see that because he hides it so well. 

Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows at Iwaizumi, “Oh, alone times,” he sing-songed. Iwaizumi glared at him before he continued to work on the task given by your teacher. This dude never gives up on teasing both of you just because you guys were each other’s one night stand. He once told Oikawa to grow up because he was annoying him too much.  

“Go find someone to get laid, pretty boy,” you snickered at Oikawa and the last thing you saw before facing forward was his jaw dropped open at the comment you just made. 

After his practice ended, you waited for Iwaizumi in the living room when he texted he was almost there. The doorbell rang; it was none other than Iwaizumi himself. “Come in!” you said cheerfully, even though there was barely any energy left inside of you. You didn’t want to make Iwaizumi worried over your worsening mental state. He’d probably nag and call you stupid but hey, you’ve heard him called Oikawa worse. 

The raven-haired boy gave you a light smile once you opened the door for him. He was freshly dressed in a white t-shirt and black sweats. The outfits combination that makes every girl drool. 

“Is no one home?” Iwaizumi asked as he stepped into your house. He looked around your house and followed your steps to your room upstairs. It was his first time coming to your home and being in your bedroom. 

“I told you before that my mom is barely home at times like this. She'll be home late at night,” you answered while leading him to your room. You opened the door to your room and invited him in. He followed after you and his eyes did a quick scan of your bedroom. 

“Oh, I forgot about that. Send my regards to your mom when she's home soon,” Iwaizumi said.

You let out a soft chuckle and nodded to his request. Both of you started working on the project, laying out all the outlines and possible drafts. You divided the tasks that needed to be done fairly between Iwaizumi and you. Iwaizumi contributed the ideas and points needed for the project. Both of you had a discussion over it for almost an hour when your stomach suddenly made a loud noise. You glanced up to see Iwaizumi was already staring back at you. 

Iwaizumi raised a lone brow at the sound. “Hungry there, princess?” 

Princess . Never thought you’d get butterflies being called that. What a funny thing. Though his tone showed mockery but hell the butterflies were swarming until it left no room in your stomach. 

Iwaizumi caught the brief flustered expression that was all over your face. But you turned expressionless immediately. Huh . Good to know he is capable of making you flustered, then. 

“Let’s order some food. Are you okay with that?” You asked as you grabbed your phone beside you. Iwaizumi immediately said yes as he was hungry too. He didn’t have any time to grab any snacks right after practice ended. 

Both of you perused the online menu and soon the food will be delivered to your doorsteps. While waiting, you and Iwaizumi picked up where the project was left off – to wrap it up for the night before the food got here. 

When the food was finally delivered, you and Iwaizumi sat in your kitchen to dine in. You told Iwaizumi to make himself comfortable as he looked so awkward standing there. “Is it your first time being at a girl's house?” You let out a laugh as his expression turned sour. 

If there’s one thing that Iwaizumi dislikes, it is being accused of things. He HAS been to a girl’s house before. Yes, for hooking up and whatnot. But, not for having meals together, that’s for sure! 

“Not really. It just feels too domestic, no?” Iwaizumi replied in all honesty. He sat on the barstool and you slid a glass of water to the man. You paused to look at him briefly. Well, he got a point there! 

“Damn. You’re right. But hey, that’s what friends do too. So we’re good,” you retaliated with a downturned smile. Iwaizumi just let out a snicker to your response. Both of you then devoured your food because hunger took over your consciousness. 

He was not much of a talker at first but after practically forcing him to talk, he finally did. It wasn’t much because this man is indeed great at keeping his secrets to himself. You wondered if he told Oikawa enough about himself and his emotions when things get tough. Does Iwaizumi ever do that? Curiosity definitely gets the best of you sometimes but that’s another topic for another day. 

“It’s getting late. It would be best if you go home now. Your parents must be worried,” you yawned. You peeked over the clock hanging on your wall, and it’s almost 11 p.m. but your mother wasn’t home yet. 

“Yeah. I should go home. Hey, you should take a rest. You look tired. You okay?” Iwaizumi asked as he stood upright. He slung his backpack over his shoulders while looking at you, expecting your reply. 

You nodded, “I’m good. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Sure. I’m going home. Make sure you aren’t staying up too late,” Iwaizumi advised. He wasn’t sure of what he was feeling, but he had this instinct that you were hoping he would stay with you through the night. He didn’t want to seem like he’s a know-it-all – worse, a pushover so he chased his instincts away. 

“Take care, Iwa. See you tomorrow!” you bid goodbye as you watched him entering the cab that was waiting in front of your house. Iwaizumi paused as he grabbed the door handle of the cab, looking back at you. 

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a curt nod. You waved him goodbye and waited until the taxi took off. 

One thing about getting anxious is that it comes uninvited. Your anxiety came creeping in later that night. You laid on your bedroom floor helplessly, gasping for air to breathe normally. Your tears were streaming down your face non-stop while you tried to reach your phone to dial for anyone in case things went south. It felt like you went back and forth to hell while battling the anxiety alone. You wished you had asked Iwaizumi to stay with you earlier. But then he would find out your weak point and the fear of him using it against you was enough to snap you out of reality. Cynical or not, you are done with people using your weakness against you. 

About a week later, you and Iwaizumi promised to have another discussion. This time, he asked you to come to his house. You agreed to it without thinking any further because the deadline was getting closer! Iwaizumi wasn’t able to contribute over the weekend due to his volleyball practices. But, you covered his part and explained what he needed to do later on. He was super grateful for your understanding. 

“Wait a second. Shit , I forgot that I ran out of my sticky notes. Do you mind if we drop by the book store?” Iwaizumi stopped walking and your steps faltered as well. You looked up at him and nodded. 

“Yeah, sure. There’s the book store,” you said as you pointed a finger to the bookstore that has the navy blue signboard outside. It looks quite old but surely they have a lot of stuff there. 

Iwaizumi shook his head, “I need to go to the bookstore that I always go to. It’s like 15 minutes from here. Do you mind?” 

That’s one thing you didn’t see it coming. The Iwaizumi Hajime has a favorite bookstore? Surely his secret admirers would love this and go batshit crazy with the news. 

“You have a favorite bookstore?” You asked. Iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, is that a problem? What? I cannot have a favorite bookstore because I am not smart enough for you?”

His defensive reply definitely got you laughing, wait no , howling of laughter. You couldn’t believe that he gets so defensive over something so trivial! Surely everyone has their favorite bookstore. Having a favorite bookstore does not make you a nerd. If anything, it makes you look smart. And God knows that leaves a good impression. 

“Good God, do you need an exorcism?” Iwaizumi asked while rolling his eyes. Man, the last thing he needed today was you howling of laughter. It took a hit on his pride and yeah, he was offended a bit. 

Your laughter slowly faded away. Iwaizumi was still staring at you with that scowl that could leave a permanent mark on his beautiful face. “No, dude. You should have seen the look on your face when you got so defensive just now. Chill, man. I was just asking you a question. Did someone used to make fun of you or something? Geez, seek therapy then.” 

Iwaizumi heaved out a deep breath. You like to test his patience sometimes and God, he doesn’t need another friend to give him constant headaches. “Alright, I was at fault for getting too ‘defensive’ then,” he did an air quote with an annoyed expression. 

“Take a joke, babe,” you groaned and he put you in a headlock that had you gasping for air. Iwaizumi didn’t use much of his force and let go when you squealed, begging him to loosen the headlock. You quickly brushed your hair using your fingers, “Remind me to not piss you off because I almost died. I wonder how Oikawa is still alive when he’s getting headlocked by you at least 3 times a week!” 

“I don’t do it that often,” he said in the same defensive tone again. His eyebrows all scrunched, lips almost pouty. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “ Really? ”

“I’ll leave you here if we don’t start moving in the next 3 seconds. I’m not joking,” Iwaizumi said determinedly. He once left Oikawa at a bus stop because he was taking too long to do his hair. He hated being stalled because he’s always punctual! Why can’t other people do the same?

“I’ll report you to the police for negligence,” you huffed a reply as you fell into his steps side-by-side. Iwaizumi snorted with laughter, “That was merely a threat, princess. Take a joke, babe .” 

He said the last line so casually while giving you a smirk. Damn him and that attractive as hell smirk because it could kill people! Damn him and damn the universe for trying to fuck you up with this weird feeling. 

You shook your head with an annoyed smirk, “I hope the bookstore is closed. You better hurry!” 

“Nah, not funny, princess. Let’s go,” he said as he dragged you with him. Thank goodness he didn’t run or sprint or else you’d have tripped on the pavements. 

Once you guys showed up in front of the bookstore, Iwaizumi didn’t waste any time and headed straight to the sticky notes section. He didn’t think twice about picking the sticky notes and some highlighters. You were off to the next aisle just to check out some books. Iwaizumi then appeared by your side. 

“You looking for anything?” Iwaizumi asked as his eyes carefully scanned the books shelves. 

You shook your head, “Nah. Let’s go if you’re done. It’s getting late.” 

Iwaizumi hummed and just when he turned his heels around, he saw two familiar individuals that he never expected to meet at all. At this place. Your gaze diverted to the same two familiar individuals when Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks. 

Just like a deer getting caught in headlights, the two individuals stopped talking to each other as well. 

Your heart dropped at the sight of the two people who ruined your life just a few weeks ago. Now that they’re here in front of you, you feel nothing but pure rage. Your eyes were locked on the ash blonde guy that gave you nothing but a stab in your heart. A 3-year relationship went down the drain just like that. He threw you away as if you were nothing to him. 

Semi looked at you for what felt like a minute and then he moved his gaze to the man next to you. The girl next to him had her eyes locked on Iwaizumi. Her ex boyfriend of 2 years. Your breathing became ragged and what felt like anxiety spreaded all over your system like it was a virus. 

You tried to control your breathing, kept your cool but fuck was it so hard to do even just that. Shit. Semi still has his power over you and you fucking hate it. This is not attraction or admiration. This is just pure hatred and disgust. Cheating was your final wake up call and no more tolerance over this son of a bitch! 

Overwhelming rage almost took over you and only the thoughts of being violent were playing at the back of your mind. Maybe Iwaizumi saw your clenched fists and the fact that you almost lurched at his ex-girlfriend, he instinctively held your hand in his. His touch woke you up from the violent vision from clouding your mind. 

You looked down at where his hand was holding yours. Slowly, you moved your gaze to meet his dark green orbs. His gaze showed genuine concern. “We’re better than that,” he whispered quietly. Your breath hitched. Right. You don’t like to resort to violence unless you really need to. 

“Huh, fancy meeting you here, Hajime,” the girl with the shoulder-length hair spoke up, arms to her chest as her eyes stared at the man next to you. Iwaizumi’s jaw ticked at the sound of his ex-girlfriend's voice. Well, it was once his favourite. Emphasis on once . Now it’s just this annoying noise that he is starting to despise so much. 

“New girlfriend?” The girl snickered when her gaze met yours. Iwaizumi might not want to start a fight or worse, a brawl or hair pulling, but you were so damn ready to punch this girl in her smug face. You do not know what kind of woman Iwaizumi is into, but this bitch was obviously nowhere in his league. Yes, she might have a pretty face but a nasty attitude mirrors her whole appearance. 

You were disgusted at the sight of her and your blood level rose tenfold when you saw Semi’s hand trying to pull her back. Semi shook his head slightly when she noticed his hand on her forearm. 

“As far as I’m concerned, who I am dating at the moment is none of your business,” Iwaizumi said – his voice stern, subtly indicating that both of you are currently dating. You didn’t oppose the idea. Amused, more like it. 

His ex-girlfriend stifled a laughter. “Impressive work, Hajime. I didn't peg you to enjoy someone’s leftover,” she mocked. 

Cheating with Semi is one thing but calling you as his leftover? This bitch knew how to push your buttons. Your eyebrows furrowed at her sudden insult. 

“Well, guess I shattered your expectations. Don't worry, I'll make sure to savour every last bite of something her ex will never get a taste of,” Iwaizumi glanced over you and pulled your waist closer to his side. 

You slowly smiled at both of them. “Pretty bold of you to make such an accusation. Hell, one thing that I know is that I sure as hell don’t go after someone else’s boyfriend. One of us is a fucking slut and Hajime, just between us , it is sure as hell ain’t me or you.” 

Her sinister smile slowly faded from her fucking smug face. 

“I don’t think so you need to go that far, Y/N,” Semi’s stern voice broke the temporary silence. Iwaizumi’s eyebrow furrowed in confusion. If anything, his ex-gf or Semi’s current gf or whatsoever started it first. He dared to spin it against you now? The audacity that some people have is unnerving! 

“You don’t get to talk, cheater,” you sighed loudly. “You know what? Both of you deserve each other. I truly hope both of you rot in hell happily ever after.”

You gripped on Iwaizumi’s wrist and made your way to the cashier. You stopped in your tracks when the girl had an iron grip on your other wrist. “Where do you think you are going?” 

Iwaizumi let out a sigh at her stubbornness. She is in for it and Iwaizumi knows too damn well you are not going to let this slide easily. How hard it must be for you to encounter these two people who kinda ruined your life in one day. For what it’s worth, Iwaizumi would love to see you destroy his ex-girlfriend. She deserves it. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are to touch me? Eita, I do not peg you as someone who enjoys fucking crazy girls,” you looked at the girl dead in the eyes before looking back at Semi. “Fucking touch me one more time and your pretty face will be covered in bruises next. Tell your pretty girlfriend to not cause herself any harm, will you?” 

You loosened her grip on your wrist and shoved her shoulder away from you. Iwaizumi gave the two people a once over and caught up with your pace. 

After Iwaizumi paid for his stuff at the cashier, he followed you out of the book shop. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly. “Fucking damn it. They ruined my day again!” You said frustratedly. 

Iwaizumi examined your expression. Yeah, you were mad as hell now. He would be too if he was in your place. “You need to cool down first?” Iwaizumi asked. 

You turned to look at him with tears welling up in your eyes. “ Shit , I don’t know. Let’s just go to your house, okay? I’ll be fine,” you said as you patted him on the arm. Iwaizumi watched you step away from the book shop area. 

“Actually, we are going this way!” Iwaizumi raised his voice a bit and you cursed yourself for being too distracted. You immediately turned back and grabbed him in the arm. “Let’s go!” You said determinedly. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but laugh at your demeanour. 

The moment you arrived at Iwaizumi’s neighbourhood, your jaw dropped. The houses here are almost elite . You immediately turned to look at him, “You never told me that you are rich.” 

“I’m not rich,” Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders. You eyed him suspiciously while following him from behind. He opened the door for you and the moment you stepped into his house, your jaw dropped again. His living room is huge and well-decorated! Surely his parents are loaded. 

“You’re rich, Iwa. Just admit it, man. Good lord, you have such a beautiful house!” You gushed– your eyes wandering around the living room area. Iwaizumi shook his head at your gushing and endless praises of how beautiful his house is. Well, it’s his parents’ house not his . 

Iwaizumi turned to look at you, “Done gushing? You need anything? Water? Snacks?” 

You shook your head. “Let’s get it started.” The earlier you can get it done, the better. 

Iwaizumi then showed you his room, where the discussion took place. He told you that his parents were working so they might come home later than expected. You were fine with it. Having Iwaizumi as your partner in this project is a blessing, you gotta admit. He is so fucking smart. Obviously, everyone has a thing for the smart guys. A bonus point, he looks very handsome as well. With the tan skin, the perfect height, athletic, everyone drools at the sight of him. Sometimes hilarious. Yeah. 

He had the upper hand of knowing the subject teacher so he knew what the teacher needed despite being given the question paper. It was like he read the teacher’s mind. You were impressed with his sharp observational skills. Even though he missed contributing some of the parts, he still managed to do everything quickly. A smart and athletic man? Yes, definitely a huge 10/10! 

“Why did you break up with your ex? What was her name again?” You broke the silence. Iwaizumi stopped twirling the pen with his fingers and shot you a puzzled look. 

He cleared his throat and sat upright. “Why did you ask?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Just curious, that’s all. Mind telling me? Please ?” 

Iwaizumi’s interest was piqued. The way you added please at the end of your sentence did something to him. Something unrecognisable that made his stomach swirl . Huh. What a weird feeling. 

“You really want to know that bad, huh?” Iwaizumi asked again. 

You nodded as your eyes scanned the interior of his room. Like expected, his room is well-kept. Tidy and minimalistic from little to none decorations around the room. His study desk – where the books are arranged neatly, unlike yours back home. 

Your eyes then caught the Godzilla plushies sitting next to his bed. “You have plushies?” You couldn’t help but ask the question because having a plushie is a bit out of character for him. 

Iwaizumi let out a soft sigh– his shoulders slumped. “Guess who got it for me?” 

The way he worded his question answered everything you needed to know. “She gave it to you?”

Iwaizumi nodded weakly, “Never a fan of plushies. She just gave it to me because she saw how much I like Godzilla. That’s all. It was a nice gesture until she went and cheated on my cousin’s friend behind my back. The worst thing was, my cousin’s friend had a girlfriend too at the moment. It was messy as hell because the girl decided to attack her and I just stood there, clueless. That was not even her first time cheating behind my back! So, mine is quite similar to yours, I assume.”

The end of his sentence got you rethinking your entire breakup. Now that he said it out loud, yes it was similar. Except that Iwaizumi found out too late and yours was at the perfect time. Worst, planned by the bitch herself. Oh she’s definitely not a girl’s girl. A homewrecker at the age of eighteen. Yucks. 

“Well, look at us. A product of someone who got cheated on in their relationship. Welcome to the club. Do you want to be the leader? I’m comfortable being the co-leader,” you joked. Iwaizumi just shook his head with a slight smile on his lips. He then dismissed the joke with his hand. 

You took it as a cue to continue doing your discussion. Most of the time, it was just you getting distracted by his veiny hands and his raspy voice. You kept on remembering the sex you guys had before this. Slowly exhaling a deep breath, you tried to focus. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Iwaizumi asked confusedly. He was busy mapping out your discussions and you were exhaling a few times– louder than usual. You looked like you were growing agitated. 

You looked at him apologetically, “Well, can our friends with benefits arrangement still go on? Or have you found someone else?” 

Iwaizumi’s jaw ticked. He couldn’t believe such a question got him all hot and bothered. Maybe it was a joke but you did not look like you were joking either. 

“What do you have in mind?” Iwaizumi asked. 

“Wanna fuck?” You asked sheepishly. Well, blame it on the hormones and the man himself. How dare he look all gorgeous and sexy while holding a discussion on an important subject?

Iwaizumi was almost sent to the emergency room at that moment. He let out a raspy laughter, “You really wanna do that right now? Good lord, you’re unbelievable.” 

He was saying that as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. You smirked knowing his tactics. Iwaizumi then reached the front of your shirt, almost popping all of your buttons in one go. He pushed your body on the carpeted floor and you broke into giggles. 

The man then snaked his hand under your skirt. His palm slowly caressing the inner of your thighs that made your blood run cold. Your chest rose heavily, breath staggered at his every touch. 

He pressed his thumb over your dampened cotton underwear. With a slow caress, you took a deep breath as you tried to ease yourself. Iwaizumi’s lips ghosted over your neck, gently nibbling on your skin. His free hand crept to your wrist and pinned it down beside your head.

“One touch and you’re already wet, princess?” His words hung over the air – his dark green eyes held your gaze. 

You looked at him with a dazed stare, “Well, you were busy sitting still and looked pretty for me. I guess it made me feel something.” 

One of the things that Iwaizumi likes about you is that you kinda match his snarky remarks. It’s not easy to match his kind of joking around without others taking it to heart. Trust him, he has tried. 

A small grin appeared on the corner of his lips. His two longest fingers brushed over your wet slit. A small whimper came out of your lips, earning a smug grin from the man. “A mere touch got you whimpering? You need to learn how to last long, princess,” he said in that raspy voice of his. 

What he said just now turned you on. Damn him and his dirty talk that got you all worked up. The rough feel of his fingertips lightly scratched against your sensitive pussy down there.

His fingers worked their way up to your entrance, slowly circling around your entrance before he made it up to your clit. Iwaizumi dragged his fingertips around your puffy clit that got your body jerked in his hold. You breathed heavily, trying not to make any noise like he said earlier. 

“Want me to continue, princess? You’ve been real quiet,” he got up on his knees just to say it into your ear.

Your eyes locked with his gaze, “Yes, please .” 

Iwaizumi’s sharp gaze bored into yours before he spoke up. “Pleading looks good on you, princess.”

His lips caught yours in a split second, nibbling on your lower lip. His free hand cupped the column of your neck before moving it to your nape, pressing your lips harder against his. You tried to breathe but he was quick to shove his tongue into your mouth. 

You got impatient and immediately unbuttoned his slacks. His pants were getting tighter each second, especially the groin area. It’s amusing how easily you can affect him. The things that you make him feel, gosh. 

One of Iwaizumi’s fingers crooked on the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, revealing you in your cotton underwear. You sighed when he brought the same finger and let it linger on the wet spot a tad bit longer. The rough feel of his fingertip created a friction you never knew was so daunting. 

Both of you now half-naked in each other’s lap. Iwaizumi positioned you in his lap. His face was just the right level with your clothed breasts. You unbuttoned your school shirt for him and he watched it with a thirst that almost burnt his throat. Sharp breaths accompanied his impatience while watching you get undressed. 

You reached the back of your bra to unhook it. Iwaizumi got aroused just seeing how fucking pretty your tits are. He gulped hard. So hard that it was audible to both of you. 

Iwaizumi is a patient man. Maybe not to a bunch of people but he sometimes has the patience of a saint. But now, he is being tested as a man. Well, he finds himself enjoying watching you stripping out of your clothes but right now, he’s like a man being starved for so long. His patience was running thin and it was very fortunate he didn’t rip your bra apart. 

“Fuck, I love your tits, princess,” he sighed breathily as he buried his face in your breasts. You bit on your lower lip, suppressing the moan. 

A warm feeling coated your pert nipple as a strong hand massaged another breast. You sighed when Iwaizumi gently sucked on your sensitive nipple. His other hand was busy kneading your other breast. His touch is magical, if it makes any sense. Any other stress that you were having before, they have disappeared. 

Your nails scratched his scalp while your hips were busy grinding back and forth on him. Iwaizumi groaned every time his dick twitched in his pants. Not now , he grunted to himself. He wanted to savour your taste firstly first before he fed his hunger and lust. 

“Your mouth feels so good, Iwa,” you half-whispered. Iwaizumi’s hand travelled to your ass and gave it a hard squeeze. You chuckled under your breath, knowing it was his silent way of acknowledging what you just said. 

His tongue circled your nipple, saliva coating your sensitive nipple. Iwaizumi’s both hands were now pinned on your waists. His face glanced up at you and you gave him this pleading eyes that got him rock hard again. 

Shit, the voice at the back of his mind said. Iwaizumi didn’t say anything but caught your lips with a hard and punishing kiss. You were caught off-guard that you almost stumbled backwards. But his strong hands stopped you before it even happened. 

The kiss was making you feel lightheaded, not even realising both of you were undressing each other in the light of speed. Your shirt, his shirt. Your skirt, his pants. Your underwear, his boxer. Both of you are now fully naked on his carpeted floor. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside you,” he whispered against your lips and you nodded without any doubts. 

“Condoms,” you gasped softly and Iwaizumi immediately reached for the drawer beside his bed. He tore the foil with his teeth and rolled the condom on. You found it hot that he was getting impatient and so did you. Your mouth also watered at the sight of his dick. He always stretches your pussy so good and that’s a memory you cherish forever. But he doesn’t need to know it.

Iwaizumi then looked at you. His eyes were questioning you whether you’re ready or not. You nodded as if both of you could read each other’s minds. He then suggested getting on his bed or else both of you would get back pain. 

Your weight dipped into his soft as hell mattress. Wow. It felt like clouds laying down on his bed. You just prayed his bed is also… soundproof and less creaking. “Shoot. Your mattress is comfy as hell,” you complimented as he got on top of you. His body caged your body. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows scrunched a bit. Man, you are so random sometimes. “Princess, you do love to think your thoughts out loud, do you?” 

A chuckle filled the momentary silence. You then circled your arms around his shoulders, bringing him down nose-to-nose with you. “You’re getting impatient, aren’t you? Well, come on now. Show me how bad you want to fuck me,” you said seductively against his lips. 

His cock nudging between your legs. Iwaizumi’s smirk slowly plastered on his lips. He bit on your lower lip until you winced in pain. “Such a vulgar language,” his voice rasped. He propped an elbow as his other free hand lined his cock along your entrance. 

The tip of his cock slid inch by inch – your mouth gaped open, back arching as your pussy stretched to his size. Iwaizumi let out a soft groan as he bottomed out. Your nails were already clawing into his back. 

His fingers clawed onto his bedsheet, hips slowly rocking forward. Fuck, he felt like he was in pure bliss once he was inside you. Your pussy was so warm, so inviting and so fucking tight that it hurt. He almost came the second he was inside you. Bless the universe for not fucking with him that moment. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in. His hand then squeezed your breasts in both of his hands. Looks like you finally figured out what kind of man he is. 

The truth is, Iwaizumi leaned more towards the guys who prefer ass. He was not a douchebag. He simply has preferences but it’s not like he is going to announce it to the real world. Why couldn't his hands leave your tits? Because your tits were on his mind all day. Especially the way your sports attire you were wearing earlier hugging every curve of your upper body and the sports bra you were wearing definitely triggered some of his primal instincts. 

His thrust was hard and punishing. He fucked you so hard that your tits bounced wildly in his face. The man was so lost in how lewd his sight was right now. Your breathless moans, the continuous whispers telling him to keep going. Fuck. He missed this. He missed fucking you and being inside you. 

“Princess, your pussy is so fucking tight,” he leaned down to whisper. Your eyes slowly opened, revealing his handsome face and the sweats that glistened on his forehead and abs. 

The man has a set of abs that was carved by God himself. Every line and crevice is deep and curved to perfection. His V-line too. Good lord. Suddenly, you were hit with a pang of jealousy. How many women did he sleep with? How many nudes did he send before you? Ugh! Jealousy couldn’t have come at the worst time.

Iwaizumi glanced over your fucked out expression. Eyes closed, lips swollen and glossy from the kiss. He cupped your cheek, “Did you hear me, princess?”

You nodded hurriedly, “Don’t stop, Iwa. Fuck. S’so good.” 

Your words were all over the place. Not even your mind could be able to function properly with how good his cock was stretching you out. The tip of his cock nudging your spot, bringing you closer to climax by each second. You clawed at his shoulder at the slow sensation building up in your core. 

“Fuck!” You hissed when you felt it coming. Iwaizumi groaned when your pussy clenched around his cock like a tight vice. 

One of his hands found your clit. His thumb rubbing circles on your weakest spot that left you crumble like a broken vase. All of your senses heightened. Goosebumps prickled and your core tightened into a twisted knot. Your breath started getting heavier but Iwaizumi wouldn’t stop his thrust – from fucking into you harder.

It was all too much. If he kept going, you might scream at the top of your lungs. You didn’t want him to stop either. 

The man himself was losing his composure. He couldn’t last long but fuck, you were so close. So close to the brink of an orgasm. That’s a thing he wouldn’t let slide so easily. 

His thumb found your clit again, his cock thrusting in and out of you mercilessly. You were so wet that there was no restriction. His thumb circled your clit, building the rhythm to make you come. 

“Come on, princess. Give me all you got, hm? Don’t hold back. Let go, beautiful,” he leaned down next to your ears, panting heavily. His eyes shut closed, trying to last longer than you. Your bodies were so close, chest-to-chest. The noises were so lewd you were afraid if someone was outside, listening to everything. 

You moaned again. Your sweet moans lulling the sound of the skin slapping against skin. It was only a matter of time before your orgasm crashed. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m so so close!” You pleaded. Iwaizumi kept going, his thrust didn’t stop or get any sloppier. He kissed you hard on the lips that had you gasping for breath. 

You gasped for air, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!” 

Your cries were his cue that your orgasm was in a matter of seconds. Iwaizumi shut you up with his mouth again. The tight knot crashed. White spots covered your vision as your breath slowly became normal again. Iwaizumi pressed his forehead against yours and gathered his breath. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he slowly pulled out of you. You felt empty without him being inside you. 

You let out a soft gasp watching him tying the used condom and tossing it into his dustbin. The man then grabbed a pair of shorts to wear. He rummaged through his closets to find a clean towel to help you clean up, though there wasn’t really any big mess to clean after. 

Iwaizumi tossed the clean towel to you. “You need to take a quick shower? You can use my bathroom.” 

You let out a disgruntled sound, “Thanks.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes trailed after your movements as you made your way to his bathroom. He was fortunate enough to have his personal bathroom. It makes it easier every time he has company over. Girls, especially. 

You are the second girl he has ever invited to his room. His bed , vis-a-vis. Most of the time he prefers to do it at their house instead. But he is not the type to fuck around a lot. It’s a waste of his time to focus on the wrong thing when he could be focusing on his final year and volleyball. 

The man then threw his weight on his bed the second you locked the bathroom door. He placed an arm over his eyes, reminiscing the whole sex fiasco just now. How pretty your moans and cries were. Just by remembering the tiniest part of it got him hard again. Double shit.

Your eyes widened at how fucking beautiful his bathroom was. The interior was to die for, and you meant it literally! It could be one of your dream bathrooms! Just how rich is he?! 

Iwaizumi is a very organised man. He arranged all of his products where they were supposed to be. You gawked at his bathroom before finally getting into the shower. It was spacious as hell, enough to fit both of you. 

Nope ! Not going there!  

Just when you were about to get dressed, your mind finally clicked that you did not bring any of your clothes inside the bathroom. That also meant you had to go out and re enter again. Shit and shit! 

Without thinking any further, you just came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body. It was a bit short but enough to cover your everything . 

Iwaizumi’s eyes brightened with amaze once his gaze landed on you. “Forgot your clothes? You know you could have called me to bring it to you, right?” 

You huffed, “Obviously my brain cells weren’t working! Geez.” You looked at your clothes scattered on the floor and you sighed. Great! Now you needed to crouch to pick them up. 

“Hajime!” A woman’s voice suddenly boomed outside of his door. Both of you jumped in surprise at the sudden presence. 

“Your ex came back?” You gasped.

Iwaizumi looked at you with the “ are you fucking serious? ” expression. Duh ! It was his mother! The only thing that should have been the first thing on your mind! Iwaizumi hurriedly asked you to put on your clothes but damn it, it was so hard to focus on the simplest task at times like this! 

“Hajime! Do you have your friends over?” His mother knocked on his door countless times. She even tried to hear what was going on inside of his room. 

Iwaizumi tried to breathe normally, “Yes, mom! We’ll be out in a second! Just- finalising our school work!” 

Mrs. Iwaizumi let out a huff, “Sure. Come out when y’all are ready. I ordered some takeouts.” 

“Okay, mom!” Iwaizumi said loudly. He listened to his mother’s footsteps fading away into the distance. He let out a relieved sigh, “Shit. That was close. Okay, get dressed.”

You hurriedly hooked your bra when he wasn’t looking. “What do you think I am doing right now?” You replied sarcastically.

“Always a fun time with you, princess,” Iwaizumi shot you a glare as he put on his sweats and hoodie. He ruffled his hair so he looked at least presentable in the presence of his mother. 

Couldn’t afford getting caught red-handed by his mother. Truly a nightmare if it ever happens. Iwaizumi shuddered at the thought. 

You carefully smoothed your hair using your fingers. After ensuring you looked neat, you told Iwaizumi that you were good to go! He unlocked his door and asked you to step out first. 

Iwaizumi walked ahead of you. In the living room, there sat his mother waiting with a magazine in her hands. Her eyes shot to where both of you were standing like deers being caught in the headlights. 

“Oh, it’s not Oikawa! Hello!” His mother chirped. She rose to her feet and walked towards both of you. You shied behind Iwaizumi but he slowly pushed you to the front. 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Iwaizumi. I’m Hajime’s partner. Study partner, I meant,” you immediately corrected yourself after the vague meaning. Wouldn't let his mother think otherwise. 

Weird. Being friends wouldn’t even justify that you guys are fucking. 

You shushed away the tiny voice in your head. Iwaizumi’s mother extended her hand to you and you shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you too, Hajime’s girl friend,” she chuckled and glanced over to his son. 

Iwaizumi let out a soft sigh, “Mom, please.” 

“I was just kidding, sweetheart. What’s your name, sweetie?” Iwaizumi’s mother asked. 

She looked friendly and so warm. There’s something about her aura that made you comfortable being around her. 

“Just call me Y/N, Mrs. Iwaizumi,” you smiled politely.

His mother’s smile reached her eyes, radiating positive vibes. “Alright, Y/N sweetie. I actually bought some takeouts. Please have some before you head back. Come on, let’s go to the dining room.” 

She said and took your wrist with her. You looked back at Iwaizumi and he just shook his head in defeat. 

“Just play along,” he mouthed. Your lips formed into a thin line. His mother seemed nice and you did not have the heart to turn her down. 

Well, a dinner wouldn’t hurt! At times like this, you weren’t sure whether your mom was already home or not. 

Mrs. Iwaizumi loved to tease her son a lot. Iwaizumi kept getting his ears red because of how much his mother liked to poke him around. You couldn’t help but stifle a silent laughter. He’d destroy you if you enjoyed this too much. Well, he already gave you a sign by glaring at you. Before he puts you in a headlock, you better take a step back just to be safe! 

Iwaizumi was not having it. Thank goodness his father was not around or else it’d be  double the trouble. His father’s overseas meeting spared him the headache. He kinda enjoyed the dinner but maybe there was no need to admit it to your face. You’ll gloat and he cannot afford another petty human being in his life. 

God knows how handful they can be at times. But to him, it almost felt like he had met his match. 

[slashers-and-rats]

Do you think... You could do headcanons for the slashers X a mute/nonverbal reader? Like just how they'd react to that & how they'd adjust to alternate forms of communication and stuff like that (Which slashers are up to you, but if Brahms and the Sinclairs were there I'd start squealing and giggling fr)

rat chat: i will provide but i don’t like bo so I’m leaving him out he’s a BITCH

Slashers with a Non-Verbal GN!Reader

featured slashers: brahms heelshire, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

Brahms Heelshire :

i think brahms would be a little perplexed at first, especially since you’d start out as the house nanny. one of the rules is to talk to the doll, but you find ways around it. you hum along to music when you feel up for it, and usually leave little letters near the doll. sometimes, during lesson time, you even throw in a little bit about sign language, and pretend to teach the doll new words.

when you first meet brahms outside of the walls, he’s quick to show off the things you taught him while he was watching you. he’s kept all your letters, tucking them away in his pockets so he can carry them around with him, and he poorly mimics the few signs you’ve been showing off. it’s a bit heart warming, despite the odd situation you’re in.

once you two have really settled in with each other, he gets into more of a groove with things. he finds he likes the silence. it’s not like you’re not around, you still amuse him in other ways. he likes that he gets to be the chatty one. he practices reading aloud with you, and you show him how to sign some simple sentences, and you continue writing him little letters that he collects. he even finds an old music box to stick them all inside. he keeps them very safe. they remind him of you.

i don’t really think it would effect him all that much. as long as you give him love and affection in your own ways, he’d be so happy. i think his favourite thing would be making you make other noises. y’know, not words. like he’ll sneak up on you and scare you, and hear you yelp, and he’ll snicker to himself. or when you two are alone, and you make a cute noise, he melts a bit. it’s the little things for him.

Vincent Sinclair :

in my head, vincent is selectively mute, so he’s pretty much immediately on board with you being non-verbal. there’s no questions, there’s no needing to get used to it, you two are just two quiet people. he finds it comforting, if anything, since he’s able to so easily relate to you.

you guys pass notes to each other like you’re exchanging secret messages. it’s especially amusing when you’re around the other brothers, and you’ll slide vincent a note, making the other brothers upset they don’t get to know what you guys are talking about. vincent always keeps these very private. communicating with you is a privilege, not a right, and if you choose to be selective about who you talk to, he is not going to let someone else change that.

you guys learn sign language together. bo never saw the use in teaching vincent, and his mum had tried but he stopped practicing when she had passed. so, he was very rusty, and you had similar experiences. you had tried to learn, but never found much use since the people around you didn’t know anyways. so, when you two met, it became a small hobby between the two of you. you explored the town, found a library with some books on asl, and pretty quickly you two were practicing in his little workshop whenever you had a chance.

i think a lot of your comfort with each other comes from the fact that you guys don’t need words to communicate. you can tell without needing to be told when either of you are upset or frustrated, and it’s easy to see when you’re happy. vincent has memorized all the little details of your expressions to know exactly how you’re feeling, even if you’re not open about it. it’s harder for you, since he wears the mask, but you’ve learned his body posture is a pretty big give away on how he’s feeling. you two just know each other really well.

Lester Sinclair :

lester is pretty used to the idea of people being non-verbal cuz of his brother, so it doesn’t take him as much time as others to get used to it, but there are still some bumps. i think, since he’s such a funny little dude, he finds your silence kinda hard to judge sometimes. he’ll tell a joke, or tell a silly story, and you’ll just crack a smile. he never truly knows what you’re thinking, since you never tell him, and so it takes him awhile to get used to being comfortable with just not always knowing.

i think he’d be someone who immediately does everything he can to be better about it tho. deep down, he really cares. he cares about his family, he cares about the town, he cares about you- he puts as much effort into those things as possible. so, he’ll put in the effort to learn ASL behind your back, and surprise you with it on a date or something.

he likes talking to you, and getting good at knowing what you’d say if you did speak. his favourite joke is to make up a conversation between you both and play both parts, and whenever he says something in your voice, he waits for you to nod or shake your head so he knows if he’s right in his assumption. he’s usually pretty accurate tho, since he watches you a lot.

he really does watch you A LOT. since you guys can’t have conversations about your interests, he just finds other ways to figure it out. while you’re reading, he’ll peek over your shoulder. he’s always a page behind tho, but he still gets an understanding of what you like. when you’re riding with him in his truck, he lets you pick the music, and notes down every song you repeat. when you guys are eating, he watches your face to see what you like and don’t like. he just likes learning about you, even if it isn’t as easy as learning about others.

[the-golden-comet]

✨Writeblr Interview✨

Thank you for tagging me @nczaversnick , @phynewrites , @mrbexwrites , and @foyle-writes-things ! Appreciate the heck out of y’all 💛✨

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels for sure, to read and to write! ✨

What genre do you prefer reading?

Same ones as I write—BL Romantasies, high fantasies, low fantasies, adult fiction, Slice of Life, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff/Smut 💫✨

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Little of column A, little of column B. I think a healthy balance between the two makes for some great planned (and unplanned) adventures! 💛✨

What music do you listen to while writing?

So funny thing….I don’t listen to music when I write. But, my favorite writing white noise is gameplay of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Dead by Daylight, or Friday the 13th without commentary, played at a very low volume. Something about a revving chainsaw sparks my motivation to write (or maybe it’s fear? 🤔)

Favorite books/movies?

Anything Disney +mutuals’s stories ✨

Any current WIPs?

So far finishing up YWIMC before I move on to something big….👀✨I have a lot of stories on the back-burner and am focusing on one at a time 💛

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

Very comfortable gray-knit turtleneck or hoodie, comfy pants, stylin’ shoes, and my bag of holding (numerous things. Backpack I carry around that has all my daily necessities ✨)

Create a character description of yourself:

Okay picture Link from The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword. Got it? Okay. Make him gay. Give him some cartilage piercings. Maybe a few eye bags due to the insomnia. There you go. ✨

Oh also make him chaotic good. Because the world needs more kindness, and I will give the world more kindness. The world does not have a choice in the matter. 🌏💫✨

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Considering what I write? Absolutely not.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Depends on the character and the narrative. I like happy endings, but sometimes a character must die. 🤷‍♂️

Coffee or Tea while writing?

While I write? Water. While I wake up? Coffee. While I get ready for bed? Tea.

Slow or fast writer?

Fast writer, slow motivator. Once I get on a groove I can usually go on 5-6 hour writing binges at a time. I just have to get there first with all of my projects….🫠✨

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

Myself mainly, and my friends and mutuals secondly. I’ve been writing for myself since I started making fanfictions as a teenager, so I’ll never NOT make stories for myself. Gaining a supportive community on writeblr has given me an extra boost of motivation, because now I feel like I’m writing for myself AND for my friends and mutuals ✨

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

The person that somehow finds themself in harrowing situations only to stumble my way out of the problem through sheer coincidence and bullshit. Or a bard. Probably a bard. Maybe both of these things 🤔✨

Most fav book cliche:

Two dumb idiots (/positive) go on an epic quest and learn about each other in the meanwhile. (See: The Emperor’s New Groove)

Least favorite cliche:

One-trick pony characters that lack depth, or exist just to check off a box.

Favorite scene to write?

Anything involving the two main protags.

Reason for writing?

My own personal enjoyment, and to share my crazy mind with the world for entertainment and create joy and inspiration to a community of genius minds (You. I’m talking about you. Yeah, YOU. Keep writing, keep inspiring, and keep on keeping on) 💖✨

Thank you again! I’m going to tag (no pressure): @tragedycoded , @wyked-ao3 , @gioiaalbanoart , @sableglass , @words-after-midnight , @saturnine-saturneight , @marlowethelibrarian , @davycoquette , @lychhiker-writes , @glasshouses-and-stones , @aintgonnatakethis , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @theink-stainedfolk , @the-letterbox-archives , @ominous-feychild , @mysticstarlightduck , @finickyfelix , @autism-purgatory , @moltenwrites , @rivenantiqnerd , @thecomfywriter , @somethingclevermahogony , @authorcoledipalo , @houseplantblank , +open tag ✨

[childotkw]

I cannot believe it's been a year since the last chapter, time flies so faast!! (You did say update before christmas, you never said which christmas =]]) I can't believe it's been literal years since I've first read the story, it is literally insane. All this just to be dramatic and say I'm rereading it cuz it's too good, your writing style evolved so beautifully over time from gorgeous to drop dead lethal.

I like to imagine the final scene with the boys and Dumbledore, Tom being all ready to monologue his hurts away in front of an audience and having him at his mercy while Hadrian just sees him, sees red and goes "listen here you little bitch, the fuck was your problem" and just straight up goes for the kill, eod. It kills me with amusement, cant wait to see your version.

If you don't mind me asking, you said in an ask at some point, maybe my mind is making it up, that it will take years for Hadrian to use Tom instead of Riddle (more than he's already done it the very few times), would you be able to elaborate as to why? He did have a time, I think, when it looked like it would go there, was all that progress undone by...everything? How does Yom view this? XD thank you, easy writing and easy life!!! <3

I know - I’ve been slacking 😂 it’s just been a big year in terms of my personal life, and now that I have a social life I haven’t had as much energy to write. I should have stayed single 🤣

But also omg thank you so much for your kind words??? CS has such a special place in my heart because, like you said, it’s the clearest evolution of my writing I could ever have. Sometimes I go back and reread certain scenes for context, and I’m still blown away by how much my style has changed over time!

I do love the idea of Riddle being all puffed up ready to talk about his feelings and then Hadrian just comes in like:

As for the whole “calling Tom by his name” thing - the largest reason it takes years for Hadrian to get into the habit is because during the time skip between Consuming Shadows and Fractured Hearts, Hadrian and Riddle don’t really see each other. The ending of CS will leave them both in…vulnerable places, emotionally and physically, and they will need time to recover as individuals before they come together again.

Unfortunately, that distance will have an impact on their relationship, so even when they meet up again, it will take some time for them to find their groove.

Riddle, for all that he hates his birth name, actually desperately longs to hear Hadrian call him by it. He’s the only person Riddle would allow to do it, and once Hadrian does start using his name regularly, a warm little glow builds in his chest.

[timeagainreviews]

The Eve of Season Two

Usually, when a new season of Doctor Who is about to start, I like to get myself back into the swing of things by writing an article about a previous story. I was planning on writing about the Fifth Doctor story “Frontios,” and had even gotten a few paragraphs in, but this new season kinda snuck up on me. No, I didn’t somehow miss the influx of trailers and promotional material. Time simply got the best of me. I used to count the days leading up to a new season of Doctor Who like a kid waiting for Christmas (and the Christmas special of Doctor Who). Now, mind you, I did just buy my first house and have been very busy. Also, the world is on fire, so there’s that. So what’s the deal, then? Have I lost my enthusiasm for Doctor Who? Not hardly. But recent years have left me wary to feel excitement. 

If you followed season one along with me last year, you’ll know I was pleased by the uptick in quality. But over time, it hasn’t felt like much of an improvement beyond an uptick. Season one was not without its flaws, but perhaps its greatest flaw was a persistent feeling of desperation. They desperately wanted to rope in new viewers. They desperately wanted to reinvent the show. And the one thing about desperation that we can all agree on is that it stinks. I kept saying I wish they would chill the fuck out. It gives the impression that the pressure of Disney money brings with it an obligation to perform. To compete with the big dogs like Marvel, who themselves are now trying to compete with their glory days. Is the Marvel formula the one that built a 62-year-old television icon? Or are they the ones currently struggling to fill theatres? I didn’t start watching Doctor Who because it was like Marvel. However, I may have started watching Loki because it was like Doctor Who. 

So I’m back for my own obligatory performance with my pre-season preamble. This month, we celebrated the 20th anniversary of modern Doctor Who, or “NuWho,” as it has often been referred to. This is not to be mistaken for “New NuWho,” aka “Doctor Who (2023-),” as listed on IMDb, which is post-modern Doctor Who. It’s weird to be celebrating 20 years at the beginning of season two. The last time I felt this way was in 2017 when Twin Peaks aired its third season after a hiatus of 25 years. As Dale Cooper said, “What year is this?” Or as the Doctor said- “Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.” So throw on your party hats, timetravllers, because we’re out to celebrate and prognosticate about the second season of Post-Modern Who!

RTDisney

Oh hey, look how clever I am. Really though, I am lumping RTD in with the House of Mouse because Russell seems pretty set on courting Mickey this year. This isn’t a criticism, I admire the hustle, Russell. And it’s not as though Davies has put all of his eggs in one basket. While there has been no confirmation of a season 3 on Disney’s behalf, Davies seems committed to put on a show in any venue. Even further, Doctor Who will persist outside of venues in different mediums like comics, books, audios, and fan art. It will never die, but even still, it’s nice to see Davies’ commitment to keeping us Whovians flush with new episodes of Doctor Who.

While I admire RTD, I am also glad to see him stepping back a bit from writing. Much of season one felt like it was rushing out of the door with its keys and no time for breakfast. Hopefully, season two will see him relax a bit and find his groove. Opening the writing to other writers will hopefully take some things off of his plate. Judging by the slick trailers we’ve been getting, it would appear that the entire production crew is playing less catch-up this year and that’s a relief. I did find it a bit strange that season two began production before season one had even aired. You would think they would have waited for the fan reaction before jumping straight into production. As I told my friend Taryn, it’s like jumping off a building before looking for stairs. While they probably foresaw the usual shitlord fallout, there were real criticisms lobbied in earnest by people looking to have a good time. Was this some weird thing in the contract? Does it speak to RTD’s hubris? Or maybe he’s just that confident in season two. It would be nice if it turns out to be the latter. As I said, the trailers look good. And judging by the rumours of hiatus, it had better be good.

New Writers

I won’t dwell on this one for very long as I covered it a bit above. But perhaps the element of season two, of which I am the most excited, is the prospect of brand-new Doctor Who writers. Now, I won’t pretend to know anything about most of these new writers. My poet friend, Anathema, did get pretty excited over Inua Ellams, so that’s something. I am, however, familiar with Juno Dawson because she wrote the best Thirteenth Doctor story- “The Good Doctor.” Yes, I am uncultured trash who only knows writers if they’ve written for Doctor Who. I also pay attention to her because, like me, she’s trans. Leave it to a trans woman to write the best story where a character who has lived most of her lives as a man is suddenly navigating time and space as a woman. Chibnall always gave me the impression that he was trying to be “progressive” by making it nbd that the Doctor is now a woman. But as Dawson proved, it’s actually super interesting and worth exploring.

A trans woman succeeding at telling trans stories is all the proof you need that a more diverse writers room will complement a more diverse cast. I’m extremely excited to see a black Doctor told from the perspective of black writers. This is exactly the sort of story Doctor Who enables us to tell, even if an unfortunate portion of the fandom is yet to catch on. Doctor Who isn’t just a story; it’s a metatextual conversation about stories. Its methods of shorthand are its mythology. The need to get through a door birthed the iconic sonic screwdriver. The need to replace an actor birthed regeneration. Doctor Who lends itself to change and exploration. Seeing the show through a more diverse lens is in its very nature. Change, my dear. And it seems not a moment too soon.

Moving to Saturday Mornings

Original graphic by Rob Demers

Many of you are too young to remember a time when cartoons weren’t readily available 24-7. But I do. When I was a child, if you wanted to see a cartoon in the evening, it was either the Simpsons or a terribly sad special where Charlie Brown’s friend gets lukemia. Instead, cartoons were reserved for the daytime and the oh-so-glorious weekly block of television known as Saturday Morning Cartoons. Friends, it was a cultural phenomenon for a kid growing up in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Sure, I attended Sunday school, but my real church was on Saturday mornings. My siblings and I in over-sized t-shirts and big bowls of tooth-destroying cereal, riding a sugar high to the X-Men theme song. It was a part of me that had laid dormant all these years. That is, until RTD announced that Doctor Who would be trading its asinine midnight release for a very CBEEBies Saturday morning slot.

In truth, my initial reaction to the news wasn’t a wave of nostalgia but one of disbelief. Can they really not let the UK have the Saturday evening start time it deserves? It smacked of Disney interference once again, and it still does. However, I have decided to make the best of it and treat it like Saturday morning cartoons. I imagine the episode “Lux,” will lend itself to that feeling particularly well. What I mean, though, is that I plan to embrace the time and try and rekindle a bit of that little kid wonder. I’m gonna wear my PJs and prepare a bowl of cereal. I might even bookend it with some classic episodes of Saturday morning cartoons. I’m turning Doctor Who into a little ritual, and I plan to lean into that as I review new episodes.

Varada Seethu as Belinda Chandra

It’s rare when a companion is announced that I actually know the actor beforehand. I knew of Matt Lucas. End of list. Well, until now, and no, I don’t just mean because she was already in Doctor Who. Like many of us, my introduction to Varada was Andor. Perhaps it’s because she played a badass lesbian rebel, or maybe it was her acting, but I was very pleased by the announcement. While Cinta Kaz has very little screentime in Andor, she stood out. Like Ncuti Gatwa, when she was on screen, my eyes were drawn to her. Some people just have that mystique about them. I fully intend to bill the BBC for the corrective eye surgery I’ll need trying to follow the two of them on the same screen. 

I’m also excited to see a more reluctant companion, an idea which we’ve seen very little of in modern Doctor Who, save for Bride Donna, Rory Williams, or Danny Pink. But this feels closer to early Ian and Barbara stories where they were taken on a journey whether they liked it or not. I’m also glad that it appears they’re dropping the whole impossible girl shit altogether. RTD tried to subvert that by making Ruby Sunday’s mum “some lady,” but made the fatal mistake of punishing the audience for being made to care in the first place. Did you give a damn who Ruby’s mum was? Me neither. The real subversion is to ignore those types of storylines completely, you know, like Doctor Who used to do all of the time. Maybe there is enough drama in the simple fact that a companion is a person being taken out of the comforts of the own place and time. Call me crazy, but that’s still a pretty cool idea, all these years later.

Ruby Sunday and Her Boyfriend or Whatever

I’ve heard rumours that Ruby’s boyfriend is a big character. I don’t really give a shit. I hope Carla gets redemption after that dogshit finale where she did nothing and then left. I hope Ruby uh… continues to be Ruby. Whoever that is.

Mrs Flood

I’m going to break tradition here and say I don’t think Mrs Flood is the Rani. Watch this be the one time it is the Rani. I’ll take that hit if that’s what it takes. However, I will say that it’s fairly obvious that she is a villain. She appears to be in every episode like Susan Triad was last season, so hopefully, they stick the landing a bit better this time around. Anita Dobson seems to have a lot of fun with the character, so hopefully it’s more than “some lady,” like Susan Triad and Ruby’s mum were.

Something I find interesting is how Mrs Flood addresses the audience. Wait…I got it. Floods are deadly pools of water, and Mrs Flood breaks the fourth wall. Mrs Flood is Deadpool! Calling it now. I really gave that one maximum effort. For real, though, her nods to the audience have some speculating that she is related to the land of fiction. I could see it. They’ve opened the Whoniverse to the pantheon, after all. While I like the fantasy aspect of adding magic to Doctor Who, I have wondered if it’s not some trick being played on the Doctor by Mrs Flood. Perhaps the fantasy elements are just aspects of the land of fiction.

In the back of my mind, I sometimes wonder if RTD isn’t trying to neutralise the Doctor’s origin stories as fictitious. The Timeless Child storyline has been controversial at best. I’m wondering if the Doctor’s life isn’t being rewritten in some way. It’s a neat theory, but one I don’t see them doing. Truthfully, I think they’re overcomplicating things. They could explain the many disparities in the show’s history as fluctuations in the time stream from centuries of time travel. It’s that easy. Davros walks again because the Doctor stepped on a butterfly. If it’s enough to turn Ruby into a flower lizard, it’s enough to turn the Doctor into a Timeless Child or half-human on his mother's side.

The Pantheon

We’ve met the Toymaker, the Maestro, and Sutekh. Will we meet more members of the Pantheon this season? Will we see anyone from the Trickster’s Brigade? We’ve seen Mr Ring-a-Ding, a character of which I am particularly excited for (and not just because he's voiced by Alan Cumming). Perhaps he’s part of the Pantheon or related in some way. I know RTD has said he is moving away from classic villains, so we may get all-new characters coming next. But as we know, RTD lies. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Intergalactic Song Contest wasn’t related to the Gods of Ragnarok. 

Harriet Arbinger referred to the Mara as “the God of Beasts,” which makes me wonder if they might be related to the giant African spider in the trailer. I know Anansi is a thing, but I don’t recall any depictions of Anansi being evil. Though we’ve only seen the giant spider, it could be benevolent or have misunderstood motives. My knowledge of African folklore is beholden to various Wiki rabbit holes throughout the years, but I believe Anansi can be a bit of a trickster, so who knows? Either way, it’s very awesome. I’ve wanted to see them do some stories in Africa for ages. It's about time.

------------------------------------

And that’s all, friends. There isn’t anything more substantive to talk about. Other than maybe Ncuti, and my only comment is that I still have the utmost confidence in his abilities. He’ll knock it out of the park again. We’re so close to new Doctor Who that all we really need to do is go to bed and wake up in the morning. So don’t sleep in! I’ll be there with my jammies and my big bowl of cereal. We’ll meet again in my review of “The Robot Revolution.” 

[aphroditeslover11]

I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, hoping to be kissed

Jonathon Crane x Reader

Sorry, this took me a while and it's pretty out of character but it was fun to write. I usually write in second person but did this for a change. It's based on another 'Love Actually' quote as well, because why not?!

Requests are still open so please ask. I do a lot of music related stuff, so the Christmas season is manic but the bulk of my work is over now, so I should be able to get back to writing now!

Love you all, thanks for reading and please interact! 💜

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talk of divorce, age gap, cheesy fluff

There had always been something about Jonathon Crane. He was my dad’s best friend, a psychopharmacologist that worked closely with him. When I was younger he had been my first port of call whenever I needed advice, I had stayed with him when my parents were going through a messy divorce and he had always been a shoulder to cry on. When he realised the true extent of my problems he had offered me counselling and when I refused because I didn’t want my parents to find out he had offered it to me for free. There was very little left about me that I didn’t know. In turn, he had told me a lot about himself - the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father and stories about the time that he spent working at the asylum. 

Everything changed when the divorce was over though. I went to lie with my mum full time and never saw him anymore, I texted him a lot to start with but my need to communicate diminished the longer we were apart. Then I hit the age of 18 and finished my exams, passing with flying colours and choosing to go and study at university. I turned 19 the autumn that I moved away and everything finally felt as if it was in the past. My parents were no longer as big a part of my life as they once had been, therefore neither was Jonathon.

It was the first December since I had left my mum’s house, I had decided that I was going to spend Christmas with my dad - just a quiet one the pair of after I hadn’t seen him for so long. I had left halls earlier in the month and returned home. I didn’t have a job here or anything so I had to spend the lead-up to Christmas in the house on my own whilst my dad was still working. It was three days before Christmas and I had gone out to do the massive food shop that always comes with the season, I was just unpacking the bags when there was a knock on the door. I thought it was probably somebody delivering a parcel, but was happily surprised when I opened it to find Crane. From the look on his face he was feeling the same.

“Jonathon, my god, I haven’t seen you in years. How are you?” I moved to allow him to come inside.

“I’m not too bad, how about you? My god you look so different now.” It was then that I spotted a gash on the side of his face, grooving across his perfect cheekbone.

“What happened, are you alright?” He looked bemused for a moment before reaching a hand to his face, there was blood still on it when he took it away.

“Oh, that… It was one of the patients at Arkham, had a break when I was in a room along with him. I’m fine, honestly.”

“At least let me get you something to patch it up with. You’re bleeding.” He looked a little awkward, only agreeing when he realised that I was worried about him. He probably hated the idea of upsetting me after everything we had discussed over the weekend.

A few minutes later I had found him a plaster, putting the kettle on for a cup of tea and sitting down at the kitchen table to catch up. He was interested in my studies, very apologetic about the divorce and assured you that if I needed anything whilst I was in town he was just a call away. I found out that he had moved up in the world, now the psychology lead at Arkham and lecturing part time at the university as well. He had left not too long later, but only after I had asked him to come over on Christmas Eve for dinner. It would be like old time, spending an evening with him and my Dad, probably watching die hard and laughing at them when they drank a glass too many of scotch. 

~

Christmas Eve arrived, and with it came a small disaster. My dad had been called away for work urgently and was going to be away over Christmas, meaning that I was left to spend it alone. The dinner had been cancelled and with it all of my company for the festive season. I wasn’t planning on celebrating now, moping around and making a ready meal before settling down to watch ‘The Holiday’ with a glass of wine. I had just made myself comfortable when there was a knock on the door. “For fuck’s sake,” I thought, “I just want to get this bloody depressing evening over with.”

I answered the door, with a scowl, only to find my spurned dinner guest behind it.

“Jonathon, I thought I told you that Dad was away over Christmas, I cancelled dinner and everything.”

“I got your message. I was going to be alone for Christmas Eve as well, so I figured that we could be alone together, or something like that. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ve booked a place. I want this evening to be easy for you, just relax, God knows that you deserve after the last few years.” 

It was then that I realised he was wearing a suit - a nicely tailored navy blue rather than the somewhat stuffy ones that he wore for work. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers, which he seemed to have forgotten.

“Jon, you brought me flowers?” He thrust them forwards then. “White roses, my…”

“…Your favourite.” He awkwardly interrupted, finishing my sentence. I gestured him inside, going to put the flowers in a vase.

“I’ll go and get ready then, make yourself at home and I’ll be as fast as I can.”

~

Half an hour later I was down the stair in a black dress and heels, hair haphazardly pinned up in a tumble of curls and makeup done. Jonathon emerged from the lounge, taking his coat off the peg and getting ready to go.

“Shall we then, the restaurant isn’t far so I thought we could walk.”

He was right, it wasn’t far at all and we were soon seated at a table. This place was more expensive than I was used to and we were half way through the main when I mentioned it.

“I’m not sure I can half this bill with you Jon, I’m a broke student.” He just chuckled good-naturedly in response.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me. It’s Christmas and I thought it would be a nice treat for both of us.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive, since the new job I’ve been making a little more than I can spend on myself without feeling guilty.”

“How’s it going? Do you enjoy working at Arkham? And you lecture as well, right?” He hesitated before responding.

“I like my work at the asylum, it’s fascinating and there is such a rich body of patients to observe. Lecturing I don’t like quite so much, my students are a pain, none of them actually seem interested in the subject. If an assignment is handed in on time it’s a novelty for me. How are you finding university?”

“I can’t say I’m loving it, I haven’t made many friends really and the lecturers are a bit dull. I just wish that there was someone there I knew, that I could talk to.”

“Give it a bit more time, but if things aren’t working out you could always transfer to Gotham. It’s not the safest place in the world, or cheap, but the university is good. I can put a word in if you like, you can even stay with me for a while, give you a chance to get on your feet.”

“That’s really kind of you Jon, I’ll definitely think about it.”

At the end of the evening Jonathon paid as he had promised, refusing to even let me see the bill. When we stood from our seats he held out his coat to me, helping me to slip my arms through the too-long sleeves.

“Here, you’ll need it more than me.”

“Are you sure you won’t be cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” He proffered an arm to me as well, which he didn’t on the way there. He could tell I wasn’t used to this sort of treatment, but he had become more instinctually protective as the evening went on and couldn’t help himself.

“You’ve had a few glasses of wine, I want to make sure that you’re steady. Can’t have you falling on the way back.” I slipped my hand through the crook of his left elbow, automatically bringing me closer to his warm body. 

“You know, you are so much more grown up than when I last met you. You were a girl when you left and came back a well-rounded, compassionate woman. You should be proud of yourself for how you’ve turned out.”

“Well, you haven’t changed at all Dr Crane. Always were and still are wonderful to me.”

The little exchanged stopped shortly after that and we carried on the walk in comfortable silence. A small amount of snow had started to dust the ground, starting to visibly settle just as we reached the front door.  I stopped to retrieve the key out of my bag and fumbled with the lock before Jon put his hand on mine, stopping me. He looked up, signalling me to do the same. Above us a single sprig of mistletoe was hung on the doorframe.

“It would be a shame to waste the opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Are you sure? I mean, it isn’t that I don’t want to, but you’re my dad’s best friend. Are you sure it isn’t wrong?”

“Well, I want to kiss you and you want to be kissed, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing I suppose.”

“Well then, I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe, hoping to be kissed.”

With that I reached up to him, bringing my lips to his in a passionate yet gentle kiss as he engulfed me in his arms. At that moment I could tell that, despite what I had originally thought, this was going to be a truly magical Christmas.

[theweirdestroller]

Blasting Through the Tracks

The rat and I are well accustomed to swapping art for writing, seeing as how they can art, and I can write. This is one of many trades I've made. So, that being said, @mfganonymous, here's the first part!!

This is for an AU that I've had for a bit. I affectionately call the KOBD Family AU. Tracks being a KOBD child is an idea yoinked from @vivificanousprime. Blaster being the host of the Polihex Groove is from @energonshot's fic Radio Static

Cybertron was... Different. It was a lot less road than back home, but far more interesting. Despite being a final frame, and one with a creator living on Cybertron, this was the first time Tracks had ever been on the planet.

He wasn't really supposed to be there, and Knockout would freak out if he knew, but not only did Breakdown live here, but Tracks was fully grown and could do as he pleased.

Everyone knew Cybertron was deep in the throes of war, it's one of the many reasons Tracks had heard for why Knockout stayed on Velocitron. He also knew that Breakdown was a part of this war. Breakdown had never bothered to share which faction, probably for Knockout's sake, but Tracks was fairly certain which side his Stunticon creator fought for.

Which was why Tracks was currently lost somewhere near- Actually, Tracks had no idea where he was, even slightly. Not only was this his first time on Cybertron proper, but the much of the planet was already in ruins from the war.

When he landed planetside, he was told the nearest Autobot recruitment center was in Protihex. Tracks did not know where he landed or where Protihex was. He had also been given a rather ominous "Good luck getting there" and was more than a bit rattled.

He probably would have had better luck just sneaking onto the Stunticons' ship, but not only would Knockout have noticed almost instantly when Tracks wasn't there to bid farewell to Breakdown, but Motormaster would find him, and being grounded via Motormaster was actual hell. At least with his creators he could gain sympathy points by looking miserable or sad. And all his other uncles could be bribed easy enough.

But he was a final frame! Nothing was stopping him from buying a ticket for the next transport heading to Cybertron. And that's exactly what he did. He told Knockout that he was spending the day racing with Blurr and would later be helping out Salvage. Blurr wasn't his closest friend, but the two hung out enough to not be suspicious. And then he went down to the Docks.

The Docks had been flooded with people. All kinds of folks from everywhere on Cybertron! It was also the first time Tracks had ever seen a transport frame. They were massive! Bigger than even Motormaster! Not bigger than Menasor, of course. The only frames bigger than Menasor were the titans!

Tracks really wanted to see a titan. He had heard that the Autobots had a couple of titans on there side. They were probably an incredible sight to behold.

"I mean- Can you believe it! The gall! I'm glad I'm not a part of his unit. Mech would drive me crazy in nanokilks!" Tracks had heard a lot of chatter from his wandering. Mostly from neutrals scouring the ruins of once towering cities. But this voice, it practically demanded attention. And the deep, rumbling laugh that followed the voice made him curious.

Tracks followed the voice, and soon voices as whoever was laughing at the loud voice had started talking.

It was quite the long walk, for Tracks to be following a simple voice. He found out why soon enough.

The bot speaking had built-in speakers! And Tracks didn't see his companion until-

"Steeljaw's biting my pede"

"I am not! ... ... You can't feel that, can you?"

The two talking were a titan (and a mini, but Tracks had priorities here)! A massive titan that was very obviously a city titan. A gargantuan, towering guy. And clamboring over him were a gaggle of mini-cons. Minis that likely belonged to the speaker mech.

"Woah." Tracks had vocalized his awe before he realized it.

That had gained the group's attention rather quickly. All optics were on him.

"Uh... Hello" Tracks gave a small wave. "Do you happen to know the way to Protihex?" The speaker and titan turned to each other for a moment, a wordless conversation between them.

"Signin' up for the 'Bots mechling?"

"Uh, yeah..." The speaker's face split into a wide grin.

"You're at just the right place! C'mere! We can get you all set up," The mech waved him over. The titan chuckled, deep and rumbly. Tracks could feel it through his whole frame.

"This is Protihex?" It was said with skepticism, because they were very obviously in the ruins of a city.

"Nope!" The orange speaker made a flourishing gesture to his titan companion. "Welcome to Scramble City! Made of the one and only; Metroplex!"

Said Metroplex flushed blue at the words.

"I'm nothing big," The speaker cackled at the wording. "But he is! This is Polihex's own Blaster! Host of the Polihex Groove!"

"What about us!" A visor-ed mini sitting on Metroplex's shoulder chirrped. The titan gentley scooped the large amount of minis into his hands and delicatly set the group on the ground.

"And these are the cassettes," The titan introduced them, fondness coloring his tone. "The remaining cast and crew working behind Blaster,"

"How does this help me join the Autobots?" Blaster gave Tracks a smirk.

"Not only are you looking at the host of the Polihex Groove, but! The current and only member of Autobot Comm Ops," Blaster gave a bow.

"He's making it sound cooler than it really is again," One of the cassettes groaned, flopping over the winged lion cassette. The lion shook his brother off.

"So- You could get me into the Autobots?"

"Yep! Lets get started!" Blaster perched on Metroplex's pede, the cassettes crowding around the second he settled. Blaster pulled a datapad from his cassette dock. Tracks did not think that was comfortable.

"Des?"

"Tracks." Blaster typed it into the pad.

"City of orgin?"

"Accelera, Velocitron," Blaster let out a whistle.

"Velocitron, ay? What's your fastest?"

"0 to 60 in 1.02 and I can get up to 280 on a straightaway"

"Wow. I wouldn't say you could rival Blurr, but you can definitely get places," Blaster looked back to the datapad.

"Ah, yes. Alt?"

"Dual-changer? I think?"

"Ya think?"

"I've got a ground-based and flight-based. There's not much difference besides wings and boosters" Blaster only offered a considering hum.

"Great! You're in!" Blaster chucked the datapad behind him, the pad plinking against Metroplex before clattering to the floor. The speaker leapt to his pedes and gave an exagerated stretch. "The lot of us ought to get back to base anyway,"

"Where is the base?" Tracks asked, watching as the cassettes transformed and docked in Blaster.

"Iacon. It's a ways away, but Plexi can cover quite the distance,"

And that is when Metroplex stood up. And Tracks lost his processor.

His first impression upon seeing Metroplex was that he was huge. But apparently, the titan had purposely been making himself smaller so he could talk to Blaster and the cassettes comfotably.

Tracks felt... Really small... And more than a bit dizzy.

Tracks woke up to the sound of Blaster's voice.

"And it's not like it would kill him to say thank you every once in a while! He's lucky I don't saddle him with my work!"

"I thought you-"

"That! Was one time. And it was completely deserved." There was a bout of snickering, all small and giggly. Presumably from the cassettes.

Tracks was content to lie there and listen to whatever story Blaster was telling, but he felt his subspace pocket click open. That was... More than unusual. Tracks waited a moment before clicking his subspace shut.

Nothing changed for some time.

"Hey, where's Rewind?"

"Maybe he fell off!" Tracks could not name any of the cassettes, but it was clearly one of their little voices shouting in excitment.

"He did not fall off!" Blaster responded in a semi-scolding tone. "Did he?" There was a pause as Tracks heard the group shuffle away from where he was laying.

"Ya see that speck?"

"Eject! Rewind did not... Hm" Tracks finally onlined his optics and sat up. The noise alerted Blaster who turned around to face him. "Tracks! Welcome back to the world of the functioning!"

"What happened?"

"Oh. Uh, nothing." Blaster glanced at his cassettes, the group coming up one member short.

"Rewind died." The lion deadpanned.

"Rewind did not die!" Blaster said in the most exasperated 'creator' tone that Tracks had ever heard.

It was at this point that Tracks got an unusal ping from his subspace systems. The pocket fell open and out tumbled... Rewind?

"Rewind!" Blaster immediately scolded. "What have I told you about sneaking around other people's subspace!"

"To not to?"

"Exactly." Blaster turned to Tracks. "I'm sorry about that. He's sorry about that, but he's gonna tell us both that he was 'just looking'"

"Oh, that's alright. But- If I may ask; Where are we?" Tracks had been meaning to ask, because not only where they ridiculously high up, they were also moving"

"Ah, yeah. Plexi's walking us back to base!" Tracks felt uneasy. His tanks were churning.

"Oh." Tracks tried to focus on the hand he was sitting on for the rest of the walk.

From when Tracks woke up to when they arrived at the Autobot base was not very long at all. Metroplex set the bots down on the ground. Blaster almost immediately started dragging Tracks inside.

"C'mon! I gotta introduce you to the Big O!"