#blade i really want to be watching you but if i take this laptop in & it needs to stay there a few days i can watch dino charge on anything

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

okay y'all block "how to charge your dinosaur" if you don't want to see a liveblog that will probably HEAVILY REFERENCE KYORYUGER

[lovelytsunoda]

purple haze // charles leclerc

summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.

pairing: charles leclerc x author reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.

by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.

her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.

“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.

“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.

she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.

and now he knew she needed a break.

taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.

his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.

“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“

charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”

smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.

"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."

"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.

SIX MONTHS LATER

it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.

she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.

"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"

ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."

"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.

and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.

"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."

she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"

"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."

charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.

"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.

making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.

this was it.

she had done it.

"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."

she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"

THREE YEARS LATER

the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.

oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.

since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.

they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.

she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.

and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.

it all came down this night.

"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.

she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.

"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.

"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."

she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.

"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"

she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.

in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.

and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.

[embarrasingmf]

living dead girl

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: Sam’s been noticing the scars on your arms and decides to ask you about them.

A/N: the scars on the arms r not intended to be sh, but if you want to, you can pretend that there are sh scars! also, this is still written gender neutral despite the work title! I based it off a song which I’ll put down below:

WARNINGS: partial nudity (reader takes off their shirt, not for intimate purposes), sam is kind of awkward in this, not proofread, kind of got lazy at the end😭😭

WORD COUNT: 836

Sam had recently found himself growing curious.

Curious of the scars on your arms that he had taken more notice of.

Now it’s not like he blatantly ignored the faint scars that were there, you just never really allowed them to be seen to the naked eye.

You always wore shirts with long enough sleeves so nobody would see them.

But with warmer weather approaching, you knew it would just be annoying to wear long sleeve shirts in eighty degree weather.

That’s when Sam started noticing the scars. They fascinated him. He wanted to know every story behind them.

—————————————————————————

Weeks had passed since Sam started noticing the scars. He watched as the shirts you always wore got shorter and shorter in the sleeve area, revealing more of the taut marks there.

He felt himself growing antsy, he wanted — no, he needed to know all the stories behind them.

But, of course, he never had a good chance to ask.

He for sure couldn’t ask either Dean in the room, Sam would never hear the end of his elder brother’s teasing!

So, instead he opted for not-so-patiently waiting for a better opportunity to ask you.

—————————————————————————

After a couple days, that perfect opportunity arose.

You, Sam, and Dean were in Reno, Nevada for a case. A simple ghost case.

The only reason that Sam was able to ask is because Dean insisted on checking out the crime scene by himself.

Sam was eternally grateful that Dean actually went to the crime scene by himself that time, because now it left him with you.

It took him at least thirty minutes to find the courage to get up and approach you.

Frankly, he was kind of afraid you’d push him away, reject him and maybe even tell him off for even asking.

You were cleaning some weapons for the future hunt while sitting on the bed, Sam was sitting at a table with a laptop and lore book in front of him.

Sam inhaled through his teeth, finally standing up and walking over, sitting down beside you.

You briefly glanced at him before focusing back on the gun you were holding.

“Hi,” Sam greeted, rather awkwardly, in fact.

“Hey.” You finally put the gun aside and focused on Sam, turning to face him. “What’s up?”

“Uh, so- I have a question.” Sam mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You hummed, nodding a bit. “Alright, shoot.” Waving a hand on his direction, you motioned for him to continue.

Sam flashed you a small smile, taking this as a good sign. “Okay, so, y’know those scars on your arms right?” He gestured to them, just for good measure.

You followed his line of sight, nodding slowly. “Uh-huh?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could tell me the stories behind them..” Sam uttered, clearing his throat and looking off to the side.

You laughed quietly, gently tapping Sam’s leg to get his attention before pointing to three consecutive marks on your forearm that looked like claw marks.

“These are from a Wendigo hunt, it was the first hunt I went on solo.” You murmured, looking up at Sam to make sure he was listening.

“This is from a Ghoul.” You pointed to another scar by your elbow, where it definitely looked like a blade made some sort of incision.

—————————————————————————

After a few minutes of you pointing out scars and blemishes that were on your arms, Sam noticed you pause. Like you were debating something.

“What’s wrong..?” Sam inquired quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in a look of concern.

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” You assured with a smile, “I was just wondering if I should take my shirt off or not, I have more of ‘em.” You explained, obviously referring to the scars.

Sam cleared his throat, trying not to look too eager at the prospect of seeing even more of the marks on your skin.

“Oh, yeah, you can do that if you want!” Sam nodded reassuringly.

You chuckled, quickly discarding the piece of fabric and letting Sam look.

Sam almost felt his jaw go slack at the new expanse of skin. He wanted to run his fingers over every blemish, every mark. Sam even let out a quiet “woah..”

You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered under Sam’s intense stare, and you quickly pointed to a scar near your collarbone to distract yourself.

“This is from a Rabid..” You explained, before turning so your back was in view.

“This is from another Wendigo hunt, got too close to the fire.” You let out a dry chuckle as you felt Sam gently run his fingers over the faint burn scar on your back.

“They’re all so.. beautiful.” Sam mumbled, his eyebrows raising.

“Thanks..”

Realizing that Dean might be back soon, you quickly put your shirt back on and went back to cleaning as Sam decided to help you. His mind still lingering on the idea that you trusted him enough to be so vulnerable with him.

—————————————————————————

reblogs r appreciated! :))

[deanwritings]

Safe Now

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a tough hunt, Dean is upset that the reader put her life in danger to save him.

Warnings: Smut (surprise!)

Word Count: 2,251

Gif:

A/N: Wow! First fic in 5 years. I’m definitely a little rusty but ready to get back into the swing of writing. Hope this was worth the wait. 

Dean slams the door behind you as you both walk into the motel room, you a few steps ahead of him as you drop your battle duffle onto the floor with a thud. 

The room is completely silent and you wince as you try to roll your jacket over your bruised shoulder. You were lucky it wasn’t dislocated, and you were even luckier you weren’t dead, but that didn’t stop Dean from giving you the silent treatment as he moved around you to unpack his weapons’ duffle, no doubt looking for a gun he could take apart and fiddle with while he continued to ignore you.

The ride back from the hunt was excruciating, and not just from the cuts and bruises you earned during this hunt. It was Dean’s seething silence that hurt the most.

It was a werewolf hunt that was suppose to be easy, and for all purposes except the slight hiccup at the end, it was. You didn’t normally accompany the brothers to the fights, your skills being much more useful on a laptop or when it came to interrogating the locals, but Sam was home with the flu, and even with your limited hunting skills, you figured taking you as backup was still safer than Dean going into battle alone. 

For the most part, you stayed out of Dean’s way while he took on the pack of three alone, managing to fire off a few rounds of silver bullets to distract them if they were overwhelming Dean. But the problem arose when a fourth wolf that you hadn’t accounted for emerged from the shadows and lunged for Dean. You didn’t have time to think, let alone alert Dean to the surprise danger, so you did the only thing you could -- you tackled Dean out of the way, getting yourself thrown across the room and into a window in the process.

Your deflection gave Dean enough time to realize what happen and he was able to take out the final monster before running over to you as you struggled to push yourself up. You weren’t use to getting hit, let alone thrown through a window, and it had definitely knocked the wind out of you while also cutting you up in the process. Thankfully, none of the injuries required stitches or other medical attention, and with Dean’s help, you picked yourself up and you left the bloodied scene behind you.

You turn to face Dean who is sitting at the table, wiping down his machete, eyes completely focused on the blade.

“We gonna talk about this?” You cross your arms, wincing at the tight pull behind your shoulder blade.

Your boyfriend’s eyes glance up at you for just a moment before flicking back to the weapon in his hand and you take a deep breath.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff. “You’re pissed because I saved you? Really?” You ask incredulously. “Would you rather I let the werewolf blindside you?” Your eyebrows raise as you stare down Dean.

A beat of silence passes through the room before Dean finally sets the machete onto the table and adjusts in his seat, giving you his full attention. You see the scratches around his eye and dried blood on his forehead. There’s a cut across his cheek that looks fairly deep and could probably use some butterfly stitches and a deep clean once you two had a chance to talk. 

“That’s exactly what you should have done.” His voice is low, his gaze finally meeting yours.

You laugh, thinking you’ve heard him wrong. But of course you didn’t hear him wrong. This was Dean Winchester, the most self-deprecating man on Earth. Chuck forbid someone looked out for him for once. 

“I’m sorry, but you want me to just sit on the sidelines and watch you die?” Your voice suddenly raises, a mix of panic and anger rising like bile in your throat.

“I’d rather that then you get hurt because of me!” Dean suddenly stands, the chair he was sitting in teetering from the sudden movement. “I’d rather you didn’t die because of me,  Y/N!” He takes a few steps towards you and you keep your shoulders square. He was loud, but you were stubborn, and you weren’t about to back down just because Dean was louder and bigger than you. 

“Because I have no idea what the hell I’d do if I had to watch you die.” His voice lowers as he gets closer to you, and your chin begins to quiver at his confession. 

It’s the same thing you fear every time he leaves the bunker for a hunt, or returns to a motel room torn up from the monster of the week. If Dean ever died, you’d have no idea what you’d do without him. And you couldn’t even bare the thought of having to watch him die. That would be a fate worse than death itself. 

“And how come you get to die for me and I can’t die for you?” You whisper as he stops right in front of you. “Because let’s be real here Dean, if one of us had to survive, it has to be you.” A flash of pain shimmers in his green eyes as your words sink in. “You’re the one who saves people, you’re the one who stops apocalypses, I’m just along for the ride.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

It was a truth you had realized long ago, before you had even started dating Dean, and it was something you thought about every time you hopped in the Impala with the boys to take on the next case; that if it ever had to come down to you or Dean, Dean would have to be the one, every time. Same with Sam. The boys protected our world, and you’d be damned if you stood around and let them die just because you were scared. In the grand scheme of things, you were just a girlfriend, a gloried sidekick--not that the Winchesters would ever call you that--but you knew that when it came to the bigger picture, you were just a speck and the Winchesters were the sun and the stars.

“Don’t say that.” He whispered, his green eyes glossy. You know Dean’s self-loathing nature would never let him fully understand just how important he was, or how important his survival was. It broke your heart, but he needed to understand his importance, no matter the cost. 

“Dean,” you take a deep breath, your voice soft but strong as you smile sadly up at him. “It’s true, whether you see it that way or not. It has to be you. Every time.” You swallow and take his hand in yours.

“Well that’s too damn bad because I won’t let you,” his voice cracks slightly as he takes in your words, his hands squeezing yours.

You laugh, humorless.

“Dean, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I’m actively trying not to die.” This earns you a green-eyed glance. “But if I do, you are not allowed to do anything to bring me back.” You shake your head, your voice lighter but the truth strong. “If you give your life to bring me back I will literally find the nearest bridge and will jump off of it just to spite you in the afterlife. So don’t even think about it.” That earns a silent chuckle from Dean as he looks away from you, shaking his head. Yes, your voice was light, but it was the truth. He was the world’s guardian, and you couldn’t let him do anything stupid just because he would be grieving.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to you before pulling you into his chest, his chin resting on your head as you relax into him.

“Besides, I’m safe now, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be back behind my laptop screen soon enough.” His chest vibrates as he laughs and you smile against him.

A moment passes before he pushes you away slightly, just enough so he can look down at you with a soft smile on his face. You reach up on your toes and bring your lips to his, gentle at first until his hands reach up to cup your chin, deepening the kiss.

If there’s one thing you knew about Dean Winchester, he wasn’t a man of many words. But actions, that was his language, and you knew he needed to show you his relief and love now that you were both safe and your conversation behind you.

Dean’s tongue brushes against yours, your body pressing into his as you start to walk you backwards. With a practiced movement, you jump up and wrap your legs around Dean’s waist as his hands cup your ass. You lean your chest against him as your arms wrap around his neck, your kisses getting faster, needier.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean lowers you onto the bed and you release your legs from his waist, but keep your arms around his neck as you pull him down with you. Dean lowers his body over you, not putting his weight on you just yet as you break the kiss and start trailing your lips up and down his neck, stopping to suck on the skin under his ear as you feel his hips roll above you. You can’t help but smirk that even after all this time, you still have this effect on him with just a few lingering kisses.

He pulls away to look down at you, relief and lust in his eyes as he looks you over.

You raise your hands over your head, swallowing down the pain in your back, knowing if Dean sees you wince, he would stop the both of you, and you didn’t want that. You needed this as much as he did.

Dean immediately recognizes your action as your silent signal to start undressing you, and he carefully reaches down, his fingers brushing under your top and tickling your torso as he lifts your shirt up and pulls it over your head. His eyes shimmer as he stares at the sight your breasts, and you arch your back as he lowers himself over you, his hands reaching behind you before he starts fiddling with your bra hook as your lips find his neck again now that he’s so close.

The hook finally pops and you shimmy the straps down your shoulders as Dean pulls the fabric away, your breath hitching as the cool air hits your bare breasts. Dean smirks, a glint in his eye as he stares you down while his mouth wraps up around your right breast, your body buckling as his hand travels up your thigh before cupping your middle. You let out a groan, your body arching as his teeth graze your nipple, causing you to gasp suddenly as his hand tightens on your crouch in response. Your core clenches between the different pressures and you whine, “Dean” as you wiggle your hips, needing him to get your pants off so he can get closer.

His lips leave your breast and he chuckles as his hands come to your waist before he pops the button of your jeans. Without missing a beat, you lift your hips as he starts to tug the fabric down your legs until you’re left in nothing but your underwear. At the edge of the bed, Dean tears off his shirt and undoes the buckle to his pants, before stepping out of them, his erection obvious against his boxers. You smile at the sight, and your legs clench together with the anticipation of what’s to come.

“You just gonna stand there or what?” You tease as his eyes continue to roam over you. But with your words, he strides over to the bed and is suddenly hovering over you. He smirks down at you as his hands find the waist of your panties, and you moan as two of his fingers dip inside you.

Breathless sighs escape your lips as he continues to move within you, the pressure building. His mouth is suddenly on your left breast, his teeth biting down and rolling across your nipple as his fingers dance in a maddeningly uneven beat. Your body bucks as his speed picks up until suddenly your whole body is shuddering against Dean’s as your core tightens and implodes inside you. 

You’re panting as your body begins to relax back into the bed, and when you open your eyes, Dean is smiling down at you, eyes shining as he admires his work. 

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Dean smirks and leans down to capture your lips. His fingers leave your panties, and this time, he pulls them down completely and tosses them across the room. 

In a quick motion, he discards his boxers, his erection popping free and standing proudly in front of you. 

“Ready, sweetheart?”

“Always, Dean.”

Dean lowers himself back to you slowly, lining himself up before pushing into you. You sigh in relief as he fills you, the aching pressure in your core replaced fully by him. 

He begins to move in you slowly and purposefully. Back and forth, back and forth, hitting deep inside you as a slow burn resonates from within as you moan from the friction. You hear Dean’s voice catch in his throat, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him to fully notice.

His hand finds yours and you lock your fingers around his as he hits into you deliberately and deep, a welcomed change to your usually fast and dirty. But this isn’t about pleasure, not entirely. This is about love, about relief, about safety. 

The knot inside you continues to grow as he hits as far back as he can go, your other hand digging into his back, needing a way to release some of the ache that builds inside of you. 

You moan aloud, the burn becoming too much as your thighs tighten around his waist, holding him in place as you explode around him. Your walls are pulsating,  your eyes rolling back, and he starts up his motion again, a feral sound leaving your lips as he continues to pump inside of you until you hear the sound of his pleasure as his body shudders and he releases inside of you.

Your heart is pounding against your chest, your hair stuck to your slick forehead as Dean’s weight collapses on top of you, his own body rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath. You love the feeling of him on you after he cums. The weight of his world off of his shoulders, even just for a few minutes as he relaxes into you.

You place a hand on his cheek, under his cut that will need attention once you’re both ready to get up. 

“I love you,” you whisper, the silence of the room now a welcomed friend among both of your heavy breathes. 

Dean leans into your touch and places a kiss on your palm, everything that needed to be said laid out on the bed. 

“Always gonna keep you safe, sweetheart.” 

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | chapter 9: a time to learn

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 6.8k

chapter warnings: injury recovery, lots of emotions happening

a/n: no words can describe how difficult this chapter was to write haha i apologise for some of the transitions between scenes and also for the fact that i did not proofread more than a cursory skim.

i am not a doctor and i did minimal research on anything medical related

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter | read it on ao3

Chan’s not a doctor and he’s never wanted to be one. But the longer that he spends in the hospital, the more he wishes there was something he could do to help. He knows that in a way, his presence is helping. The doctor tells him that for injuries, a soulmate bond is actually beneficial because sufficient Charge can increase healing times. 

The doctor also explains that the more serious injury is the initial stab wound. The blade had damaged Y/n’s liver, which had required surgery and now demands constant monitoring. It was the main reason that Y/n would have to stay in the hospital for an extended period of time. While the second wound was larger and required more stitches, it was fairly shallow and was expected to heal without any issues. 

As expected, there’s various bruises from the fall, but what surprises Chan is that he’s told Y/n is suffering from a mild concussion. When he had watched the footage that he had saved from social media, he could see that Y/n may have hit her head, but it hadn’t seemed that hard.

It means that Chan hasn’t left the hospital yet. It doesn’t really help that Y/n was specifically brought to the hospital that her father owns and that she’s situated in one of the nicest rooms available. With a large private bathroom, a separate room that has a few couches and low tables to entertain guests, and a large bed that’s almost more comfortable than the one Chan has at home, there’s no reason to leave. Yonghwan has been going back to the dorms to collect clothes and other personal items, like Chan’s laptop and some equipment. After a few days, the boys are allowed to visit too, although only in small groups and for short periods of time. 

Chan kind of hates the medications that Y/n is put on. He knows that she needs them to deal with the pain, to protect her from infection, it's just difficult to witness how they make her woozy and extremely tired, drifting in and out of consciousness. When she is awake, her thoughts are scattered, she can’t concentrate for long periods of time, and she spends most of the time watching Chan as he works or dozing.

It's a relief when she's finally weaned off of the ones that have the worst side effects. 

Although she gets her phone back pretty soon after waking, Y/n doesn’t really touch it until her doctor lets her know that her concussion has healed and she’s been cleared to look at screens without any limitations. Chan has helped her with messaging some of her friends and family, but she seems pleased to have full access to her phone again. Chan leaves her to catch up on everything, taking out his laptop and opening up a track that he’s been trying half-heartedly to finish a first draft of. 

He gets pulled away from his work a couple hours later when Y/n calls his name. She’s biting at her lip and staring with a furrowed brow at something on her phone. He immediately sets aside his laptop and turns to face her, trying not to worry.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Did you- I saw-” Y/n takes a second to gather herself and then flips her phone to show him what she’s looking at. It’s a Twitter fanpage, dedicated to Chan’s Bubble subscription. The last tweets are the updates to his profile picture, background photo, name, and status.

He did it in a fit of anger, knowing it was about as much as he could do without getting in trouble with the company. He wouldn’t dare send any messages about the incident, especially ones that could be twisted the wrong way and end up hurting Y/n, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend everything was okay.

So he deleted it all. Or, rather as much as he could. Replacing the pictures with solid black, leaving the status line empty. He didn’t have as much freedom with his name, but left it as “찬“ and nothing more. He hadn’t sent anything since then, either.

The other members hadn’t changed anything on their profile, but they too had been subdued in their messaging. The first couple of days, they did nothing. After that, Changbin, Jisung, and Felix joined Chan in the continued radio silence. Hyunjin had sent pictures of the sunset, when it was Y/n’s favourite time of the day and the clouds were painted pink against the blue background of the sky. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had messaged only a couple times since then, reminders for Stays to eat well, get lots of rest, and stay safe.

There hadn’t been an official statement released by the company, but news of the incident had spread like wildfire.

“And yesterday was Sunday,” Y/n says slowly. “You were here the whole time, what about Channie’s Room?”

“What about it?”

“You didn’t do it?” When Chan just shrugs in response, Y/n’s brow creases like she’s trying to figure out some sort of puzzle. “What? But you… You always do it. Did the company tell you that you can't?”

“No, they didn't have to. I already let them know I wasn't going to."

"Then why?"

“I didn’t want to. I don’t want to,” Chan says sullenly, even though the explanation makes him feel like a toddler who doesn’t want to share their toys.

“What do you mean? It’s- You promised Stays! Here you can go now, just go to your studio and do a short live. If this is some sort of roundabout punishment for what happened-”

“I don’t want to,” Chan repeats. “All they’re going to do is spam the chat with questions about what happened. I don’t want to deal with that and honestly I don’t know if I can go through that without blowing up on them.”

"But-"

"Is it really so hard to believe that I have had other priorities the past few days? That I don't want to have to pretend that everything is okay?"

Y/n seems to soften at that. Chan reaches out and he catches her hand in his, mindful of the tape and IV that’s attached to it. The Charge warms between them.

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’m glad that you’re taking a break. Sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you.”

“You weren’t. Everything that I’m doing, it’s my decision. I know everything has been pretty overwhelming lately, but you’re-”

Before he can finish, the door to their room slides open and a nurse steps in to serve them dinner. 

“What were you going to say?” Y/n asks once they’re alone again.

“I don’t remember anymore,” Chan lies. “So it probably wasn’t that important. Let’s eat.”

Chan’s almost glad for the interruption. The moment is gone now and Chan’s just now realising that he has no idea how Y/n would react if he had said what he wanted. That she was his biggest priority right now. That he cares about her. That he would do anything for her. 

He’ll do that later, when they’re at home. When everything has calmed down.

—

Chan wakes to the loud smack of someone’s hand against a table. His face is burrowed into the soft fabric covering Y/n’s shoulder, his arm is wrapped around her waist, and the whole length of his body relaxed by the warm thrum of the Charge. He cracks open one eye and, after seeing that neither Y/n nor Eunsung, who was the source of the noise, have seemed to notice, quickly closes it to feign sleep. 

When Eunsung speaks, his tone is exasperated, like he’s had this conversation multiple times before.

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to him about it,” he insists. “The doctor said you have acute fatigue and the only reason it’s getting better is because the two of you are practically glued together right now. The second that he starts going back to schedules, it’s going to be the same as it was before.”

“I was doing fine before,” Y/n defends herself. “Things just got so busy with all the concerts, I forgot to eat enough. As long as I make sure that I’m getting enough calories, it makes up for the Charge. I promise, I'll make sure to take better care of myself."

Chan has no clue what they’re talking about. Acute fatigue? Y/n not eating enough? Chan hasn’t heard anything on these before.

"I don't think you understand. It's not about you doing things to take better care of yourself, it's about him not letting you take care of yourself. If you Charged for at least 6 hours a day then you wouldn't have to worry about eating more than you used to. You shouldn't have to be making up for anything," Eunsung argues.

"Listen, Eunsung-oppa," she says. "I know you're saying this because you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing. This is… This is bigger than just Chan-ssi and I. He's not just my soulmate, he's the leader of Stray Kids, a producer for 3RACHA. It's- The work that he does- What I see on Twitter, the comments on Youtube, the posts on community. He has the power to reach so many people and make lives better. And he does. He’s such a good person. How can I do anything but support him in any way I can? Even if that means letting him push himself without stepping in, then I'll do it. I trust that he knows his own limits."

“And if that means him ignoring your limits?”

“Eunsung-oppa-” Y/n protests.

"You've talked to him about it," Eunsung interrupts her, clearly able to read something in her tone of voice.

"Yeah, I- I understand how you feel, being on that side of it. I thought that I could convince him, but it turns out that he convinced me instead."

"But the conversation you were having, it was about him taking care of himself instead of you prioritising your needs, wasn't it?" he presses. Y/n confirms, but it sounds reluctant. 

“He didn’t want to hear it. He was… I don’t know. I don’t want to say what he said to me.”

“And he never brought it up again?”

“He did, kind of. He said sorry the next day. And I know he’s sorry. I know some of the things that he said were just in the heat of the moment. I get it, I really do. He was stressed, tired, we probably weren’t getting enough Charge, even then. But… It hurt. What he said,” Y/n says, her voice small. “What he really meant. It still hurts a little, every time I think about it. Every time I see him.”

"Sometimes you two are too similar. You’re both just pretending you’re fine, but you’re not. I know Chan, maybe not as well as you, but in a different way. He’s not the type to just let this type of thing slide. As much as I hate him right now for making you hurt, if he doesn’t know that you’re hurting, then there’s no way that things will be fixed. I think you need to talk again, if he cares about you at all then he wouldn't just let this go."

"I think you're overestimating our relationship a bit."

"What? Even after the past few months, you guys aren't close?"

“I’m not delusional, I never had fantasies of us immediately falling in love like in the movies or shows, I just,” she shrugs with the shoulder the Chan wasn’t curled up against. “I don’t know, I just thought that we could be friends or something.”

“You wouldn't even consider yourself to be friends?” Eunsung says in a low voice.

“Actually, at one point I did think we were friends… or maybe more,” Y/n admits with a hollow laugh. “I was wrong. His attitude keeps changing, I can’t keep track of it. One second he’s annoyed at me for nagging him and the next he’s carrying me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch. But wherever we’re arguing, it feels like it’s always my fault. And I know, I know that I’m hard to be around. It’s just hard. The moments of… care, they were an illusion. It was all fake, like kids playing house. He can tolerate me of course, but in the end, I'm just someone he works with.”

"You don't think that if he were to hear what you're saying, he would be sad?" Eunsung asks. Y/n stays silent for a while.

“I don't know. What he said to me. I thought a lot about it. I- I want to make his life better, but I think… I think I make it worse. I don’t understand why we’re soulmates, I can think of a million people who would be better for him than me,” she finally confesses, voice sounding wet.

Eunsung shifts forward, but before he can speak, a nurse knocks on the door and lets herself in. It’s enough noise that Chan takes it as an opportunity to pretend to wake up. When Y/n notices, she looks back towards the nurse and quickly sits up straighter so that Chan's arm naturally falls away from where it’s wrapped around her.

“I think you should go to the company, Chan-ssi,” Y/n suggests after the nurse has finished redressing her wound and has left. Her voice is back to normal, upbeat even, and if Chan hadn't been awake then he wouldn't have been able to tell she had just been in a heavy conversation. It’s scary how easily she can mask her emotions. “I don’t want you to fall behind because of all the time you’ve been spending here. Eunsung is already heading there, he can give you a ride.”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Eunsung mutters, but he stands up and gathers his things without waiting for an answer. “Come on, let’s go.”

Normally, Chan would protest being ordered around, but at this point he’s just grateful to have some space to process what he just heard. He knows that Minho and Jisung were planning to visit soon and that Felix would be dropping by shortly after, so at least he feels somewhat comfortable leaving Y/n alone. He feels lightheaded and… bad in a way that he can’t describe. It's different than when he first found out that Y/n was hurt. Now it's almost like he’s dissociating, but worse because having an out-of-body experience would be better than the heavy press of emotions that he feels now. It’s clogging up his airways and all he can do is focus on following Eunsung out of the room.

Chan hasn’t had many opportunities to interact with Eunsung, but he knows for sure that they were never as tense as they are right now. It’s understandable though, after what he just heard. When Chan starts toward the lane where he usually gets picked up and dropped off, Eunsung instead steers him toward the parkade. 

“This way, superstar. Unlike you, I actually have the freedom to drive myself.” Chan barely notices the thinly veiled jab, he’s still reeling from the conversation. He can’t think of a comeback and really, doesn’t feel like he deserves to give a rebuttal.

When they finally stop in front of a car, Chan catches himself right before reaching for the back car door instead of the one to sit shotgun. 

The pair sit in silence for the first half of the ride, until Eunsung finally speaks up.

“You know, you don’t deserve her,” Eunsung says, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And you do?” Chan fires back, thinking of all the rumours he’s heard from the rest of the staff, the giggles he hears whenever Eunsung interacts with Y/n. Although his guilt is creeping up and clouding his thoughts, his first instincts are to feel defensive.

Y/n is his soulmate, not Eunsung’s.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen how close the two of you are.” He tries hard to not sound too accusatory, but instead his words come out as overly bitter.

"Yeah, we're friends."

"And is that all you want to be?"

In response, Eunsung just laughs incredulously. “What? Even you thought- You think that I like Y/n? I’m-” He can’t even finish his thoughts before he starts to laugh again. “Of course I like her, but she’s like a sister to me.” 

“Of course you would say that-”

“I’m married, Chan."

"What?" Chan exclaims. "But, but everyone was saying you- I thought- Who are you married to?"

"Saerom. I've definitely mentioned her before, I know for sure that Y/n has too."

“Oh,” he says dumbly, “I thought- I thought Saerom was the name of your dog.”

"What?!" Eunsung turns to gape at Chan.

“How was I supposed to know? You said you have to take her on walks otherwise she gets too restless, you talk about buying her treats! You said she doesn’t like it when you’re travelling for too long, it sounds like how Berry gets when the family goes on vacation. Just because she has a human name doesn't mean she is a human. I've never seen a picture of her either."

“Oh, I cannot wait to tell Y/n about this.” Eunsung continues to laugh while Chan hides his face in his hands. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He’s relieved that Eunsung isn’t secretly in love with Y/n but also mortified that he thought his wife was a dog. At this point, opening the car door and flinging himself out doesn’t sound like a bad idea to get himself out of this conversation.

“You don’t wear a ring,” he says, probably digging himself further into the hole he’s currently in.

In response, Eunsung hooks a finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a chain, a ring dangling on the end of it. They turn into the company parking lot and Eunsung kills the engine, turning to face Chan directly.

“Chan-ssi,” he says seriously. “I know that there are rumours about a relationship between Y/n and I. She knows about them too. I’m not deaf to the chatter or the way they react when we’re together. Just, is it really so bad if people suspect that the two of us are soulmates? And I’m not saying this because I enjoy all the rumours. It’s because I know that they mask any sort of interactions that you have with her. If any other staff finds out that you’ve been visiting her in the hospital, they wouldn’t think anything of it other than you being concerned because she’s a manager and you were right there when it happened.”

Even though Chan doesn’t like the idea, he knows that Eunsung is right. It’s safer this way. He just has to get used to swallowing the possessive part of him that wants to publicly declare his soulmate bond. He can do this if it means protecting Y/n.

“You’re right,” Chan says quietly.

“I know all of this must be hard for you and even harder if you didn’t know about Saerom. Just know, we’d never do anything outside of being friends, I promise. If you don’t trust me, then at least trust Y/n. And,” he hesitates for a moment. “I know you heard our conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“I saw when you woke up. You’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, but luckily for you, I don’t think Y/n noticed.”

“I- I really messed things up, didn’t I?” Chan says, feeling defeated.

“I’ll be honest, it’s going to be difficult, fixing your relationship. Y/n is very independent. It’s definitely one of her strengths, but it’s also a big weakness. She doesn’t ask for help, even if she needs it and she’s very hard on herself. You know her family, she’s used to doing things on her own. She’s trying her best with this whole soulmate situation and she was really opening up. She trusted you.”

The past tense in his sentence shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“You hurt her,” Eunsung continues. “But I know Y/n will forgive you. She cares about you, a lot. If it wasn’t obvious by… everything that has happened so far. You just have to talk to her.”

“I- Thank you, Eunsung,” Chan finally says. “Thank you for being there for her, for helping with all of… this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good person, Chan-ssi. I want things to work out between the two of you.” Abruptly, Eunsung’s tone hardens. “But if you make a habit of hurting her, just know that sasaengs will be the least of your worries.”

—

Chan forces himself to try and be productive for at least an hour in his studio before resigning himself to the reality that he wouldn’t be able to get anything done with how distracted he is. He spends the whole time wishing that he was back at the hospital. 

Right as he’s about to call it a day, Jisung- who has just arrived after visiting Y/n and assures him that she’s still doing okay- and Changbin join him. They’ve actually been getting work done in the past few days and quickly run through the progress that they’ve made. Even with their presence, Chan’s attention span is practically non-existent. Everything seems to remind him of Y/n.

He ends up staying until the sun starts to set. When Changbin and Jisung start to discuss dinner options, he takes the opportunity to pack up his things.

“Hyung, are you not joining us?” Changbin asks.

“Sorry-” Chan starts saying.

“Hyung just wants to go and see Y/n again. He doesn’t care about us anymore,” Jisung whines playfully. 

“That’s not true!” Chan says indignantly.

“You don’t have to lie, just make it up to us.”

“Anything,” Chan agrees.

“Have dinner back at the dorms with us tomorrow,” Jisung says instantly. “You need to bring new clothes to the hospital anyway, you can save Yonghwan-hyung a trip this way.”

Chan realises this was his plan all along and reluctantly agrees. Logically, he knows that nothing will happen to Y/n while he’s away, he just feels better being able to see it with his own eyes.

—

When he gets back to the hospital, he’s surprised to find Y/n just staring blankly at the wall in front of her. She doesn’t react to the sound of the door opening or Chan’s greeting while he had closed it again. He approaches her cautiously, afraid of startling her, but still manages to make her jump when he gets into her field of vision.

“Oh!” she says breathlessly, putting a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back.” She automatically smiles at him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, just had a weird day,” she says in that same strange voice she had back in Japan. Chan is starting to realise it means that she’s hiding something.

“Y/n-”

“Maybe it’s just because you were gone. Not to be clingy or anything, I’m glad that you were finally able to go to the company and get some real work done, but I’ve gotten used to having you attached to my side,” she jokes. It’d be convincing if her voice was more steady, if her smile reached her eyes.

“Uhm,” Chan says, not quite sure if he should pursue the topic further or go along with Y/n’s attempt to gloss over it. “I’m sorry, I promised that I’d go back for dinner tomorrow.”

Y/n rolls her eyes at that. “You don’t have to apologise for that! I’m glad that you’re finally getting to see them after being cooped up here. They're your family, you have to spend time with them.”

“I wasn’t forced to stay here though! I want to be here, I want to be with you. You're my family too,” Chan says earnestly. 

Y/n's lips press tightly together at that and she breaks eye contact.

“How about this, Eunsung-oppa was planning to come by tomorrow sometime anyway. He said that he’d bring me some non-hospital food and I couldn’t say no,” she says instead of responding to Chan’s comment. “Felix wanted to come by again too, so you can go home at the same time as him. I’ll tell Eunsung-oppa to come by around dinnertime so you don’t feel like you’re leaving me behind, is that okay?”

“Okay, but promise me that if anything happens then just call me and I’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

—

Dinner with the members is rowdy as usual, maybe even moreso. Chan doesn’t think much of it, happy to have a distraction from his thoughts, until he takes a second too long to respond to someone and catches a couple of concerned glances. He realises that the boys are being overly rambunctious to keep him present. It warms his heart and makes him feel guilty at the same time.

After eating, Jisung slumps onto the couch, stretching out so that his feet hang over the side. Chan joins him, smothering him in affection before he leaves for the night. He knows that Jisung has been more anxious than usual these past few days and although he wishes he could do more to help him, his biggest priority at the moment is Y/n.

“Minho-hyung and I met Y/n’s family yesterday,” Jisung says, voice muffled from being pressed against Chan.

Chan bolts upright, accidentally elbowing Jisung in the process, forcing a groan out of him.

“What? When?” he demands. His mind is racing, finally able to sort out Y/n’s strange behaviour when he had last seen her.

“I forgot to mention it at the studio, but when I was visiting, they also showed up. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but they seemed alright.”

“Just alright?” Chan prompts him, trying to calm his heart rate which has spiked.

“Uhm, I mean her parents were very… polite. They spoke to Y/n privately so I just met them briefly.”

“Where did you go?”

“Her brother, Siwon, I forgot he’s a doctor too. He took me to a private lounge they had, there weren’t any people around which was good. He seemed nice, concerned about Y/n.”

“Well not that concerned,” Chan mutters darkly, “since he didn’t even bother to visit until yesterday.”

Jisung stares at him, clearly shocked by the sudden vitriol.

“Sorry,” Chan says, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up wildly. “It’s just been a lot these days, my emotions are everywhere.”

“It’s okay, hyung,” Jisung says cautiously. “It’s been a lot for all of us, but mostly you and Y/n.”

Chan hums in agreement, but still feels bad.

“You can go back now if you want,” Jisung prompts him.

“What? No, I-”

“I can tell you’re distracted,” he says. “Go, we’ll still be here when she’s better.”

Chan goes.

—

The route to the hospital and through the back entrance is becoming more familiar by now. Chan accidentally startles Y/n when he opens the door to her room, but her expression quickly settles to one of relief upon seeing him. Now that he’s looking closely, he can recognize the same, strained smile that he first saw at Chuseok. 

She shuffles to the side of the bed and lifts the blankets so that Chan can sit beside her. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“The boys all missed you,” he says in greeting. “Dinner wasn’t the same with just the eight of us.”

“Oh come on-”

“You’re part of us, now. I told you before. And-” Chan hesitates for a moment. “I heard that your parents visited.” Y/n stiffens for a second, before relaxing again.

“Ah, Jisungie, the little snitch,” she says, the fondness in her voice opposing her words. “Yes, they dropped by while you were away.”

“And?”

“Well, my eomoni was telling me that it was a sign that I should quit my job, get out of the industry, said I was stupid for getting between the sasaeng on you, the usual. But I got my abeoji to look over my files, when I asked he said that I can be released tomorrow!” she says excitedly, smiling so much that her eyes curve into crescents. “I get to go home!”

It’s clear that things with her parents didn’t go as well as Y/n is projecting, but Chan is too much of a coward to push more. Somehow that righteous anger that had filled him when he had talked to Jisung has been replaced with uncertainty. He doesn’t want to get into yet another disagreement with Y/n now that he knows what she truly thinks of him. Or rather, what she thinks that he thinks of her. He needs to focus on bringing them together instead of allowing them to drift further apart. He vows to bring this topic up another time, when things are better between them.

“That’s great!” he replies, but even as he says it, he can’t help the nervousness that starts to form in his stomach at the thought. He is happy that she’s been healing well and will definitely be reassured to have her back home, but until now, the hospital has served as a sort of protective bubble for Y/n, shielding her from the outside world. He has the irrational sense that keeping her here longer is the same as keeping her safe for longer.

—

“Bang Chan-nim?” The doctor that has been in charge of Y/n’s care steps into the room and glances at Y/n, who is busy packing away her things. All morning she’s been in a good mood, enthusiastically talking about what she plans to do once she’s back at the dorms. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course!” he replies. He tells himself that everything is alright, but can't stop himself from running his hands through his mess of hair, palms prickling with nerves.

The doctor leads Chan to his office and smiles at him gently, like he’s about to break some bad news and needs to make sure that Chan doesn’t also break. It makes things worse, Chan’s stomach starts to churn, his mind racing.

“This might be a difficult conversation, but you may already be aware.” The doctor starts slowly. “Y/n-nim works with idols, right? In the entertainment industry?”

“Yes,” Chan agrees, but he’s confused. Did someone leak the news of Y/n’s injuries? Is there a sasaeng that’s been visiting the hospital? He wants to pull out his phone and immediately call the company and force them to do more damage control, but the doctor continues.

“These days, there is a lot of pressure for young women, especially those who work with or follow idols, to fit into certain beauty standards.” Chan nods. He’s seen countless people destroy their bodies to try and lose more and more weight and knows how devastating it is, but he still doesn’t understand the point of this conversation.

“I’m concerned about Y/n-nim”-the doctor interrupts Chan’s thoughts-“When she came to the hospital, we were focused only on her injuries, but throughout her treatment, we have noticed that she is underweight. The testing that we’ve done tells us she has not been getting enough of what her body needs. Not getting enough food, not enough charge, and not enough rest. She's showing signs that she was becoming malnourished.

“It’s not uncommon to see those with soulmates, especially young women, take advantage of the bond, reducing charging time and saying that they will eat more instead. They often eat a normal amount so that it doesn’t concern anyone, but it’s not nearly enough to make up for the missing charge. Both of you have probably been more sensitive lately. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve also noticed yourself being irritable or having rapid mood changes these past few days."

Chan can't do anything but stare as the doctor pulls out a small packet of paper. His pulse roars in his ears and all he can feel is guilt, pooling in his stomach and creeping towards his extremities. He feels nauseous. This is his fault.

He thinks back to all the nights where he stayed in the studio, just a little bit longer to finish a track, sliding into bed to charge for only a few hours before they had to wake up. Of the extra meals, protein drinks, snacks he had consumed that he thought nothing of, too used to the varying diets of the rest of the members depending on their schedules and the ups and downs of bulking up or cutting calories. He’s used to the heaviness of his eyelids, the pounding headaches, and occasional dizziness that were the result of sleepless nights.

All these things he had taken in stride, forgetting that Y/n had been dealing with too. He had the luxury of being an idol, during schedules and tour, there was always breaks for food. But he had seen the way the managers and coordis had to run around, only eating when they had a couple minutes to spare.

He knows that he’s snapped at Y/n more than a few times, patience worn thin enough that at the end of the day he doesn’t have it in him for niceties. Of course, he had felt bad about it after the fact, but Y/n hadn’t seemed very phased by it and he had forgotten about it until the next time. It wouldn’t be the first time that stress made him more easily annoyed and ill-tempered, but now he realises why he seemed quicker to get caught up in his emotions.

The doctor continues talking, but Chan feels like he's underwater, the sound is muffled. This is his fault. 

"Bang Chan-nim!" The doctor clasps one of Chan's hands in his and finally pulls his attention away from his self-loathing thoughts. "Are you okay? I know it can be a shock to find out, but don't feel bad. It's very common to be surprised, people are good at hiding things like this, even if you're close to them and I know that your bond is still relatively new. Luckily there are a lot of strategies we have to help your soulmate get more Charge, even if you both have busy schedules. Okay?"

"Okay," Chan replies weakly, he can barely focus on what’s being said, all he can think of is that he's the reason his soulmate is malnourished. And he didn't notice. That they think Y/n has an eating disorder, when it's him that has dictated the amount of charge that she gets. The doctor flips open the packet of papers and starts to highlight it.

"The most important thing right now is increasing Charging time. With Y/n-nim's injuries, her bedrest and all the time you two have spent charging have already been helping a lot. Take this recovery period as a time to build new habits and establish a routine that involves more skinship. I understand you two are busy, but I expect you try for at least 6 or 7 hours of sleep while charging, but more if possible. If you're both doing work on the computer, watching a show or movie, or eating, then sitting close enough to touch will help recharge without taking away from your regular activities. As you may already know, for the most efficient charging more skin-to-skin contact is recommended." He flips the front page back over and places the packet onto another, larger, stack of papers. "More details can be found here and this is the rest of Y/n-ssi's care instructions, prescriptions, and other information on soulmate bonds."

"Thank you so much," Chan says, automatically reaching out to accept all the papers.

"You're welcome. This must be very overwhelming, but Y/n-nim is healing quickly. Your bond is helping her recover much faster. We caught her malnutrition fairly early and expect that she'll be at normal energy levels within a few weeks. Don't feel guilty and try not to worry too much, Bang Chan-nim. Your bond is a good thing, not a bad one." The doctor smiles warmly, checking his watch and standing up. "Y/n-nim should be ready to be discharged now, let's go back to the room so that we don’t keep her waiting."

Chan follows the doctor back in a daze. Y/n is sitting on one of the chairs in her room, scrolling on her phone when they arrive. She brightens when they enter.

“Can we leave now?” she asks eagerly. Chan beelines to her side, reaching to hold her hand.

“Yes, everything has been sorted out now and Bang Chan-nim has all your care instructions. Please give us a call or come to visit if you have any questions or concerns at all,” the doctor says.

“Of course.”

“Looks like everything is ready to go. It was very nice to meet you both, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances. I hope that the rest of your recovery goes well, Y/n-nim, and please do not hesitate to contact us for anything.” With that, the doctor bows and leaves the room.

At the same moment, a nurse knocks on the doorframe as a greeting, pushing a wheelchair through the open door. Y/n’s smile fades when she sees it.

“Oh, no,” she says quickly. “I can walk, there’s no need for one of those.”

She turns to look at Chan for support, but he just shrugs helplessly. Secretly, he would feel better if she used it. After only a week in the hospital, she isn’t close to being fully recovered, even if she hides it well. He’s seen the slight grimaces when Y/n tries to shift positions and the way her face is lined with pain when she walks or has to stand straight for longer than a few minutes. If she pushes herself too much now, it’ll just extend the overall healing process.

“Really, I don’t need it,” she insists. “What was the point in all the walking practise? Besides, Chan-ssi and Yonghwan-ssi will be beside me, they won't let anything happen to me.”

The nurse looks sceptical, but agrees. Before they leave the room, Y/n twists her hand trying to break Chan’s grip. 

“It’s too public,” she murmurs when he tightens his hold instead. “Just in case, I don’t want anyone to see anything that can be misinterpreted.”

Unable to think up an argument against that, Chan reluctantly lets go. Y/n hooks her arm with Yonghwan’s instead and they make their way out, Chan hovering behind them anxiously. They’re all wearing masks and hats and the car that’s going to pick them up is waiting at a private exit, but there’s a shared urgency in their movement. By now, the media has turned their attention to other stories, but with the radio silence from Stray Kids since the incident, fans have had nothing to do except theorise and wonder what’s happening behind the scenes. 

He knows that it’s making him paranoid. He finds that he’s constantly looking over his shoulder when he’s in the hallways of the hospital. He’s never been more careful trying to cover up his appearance and avoid anybody who looks like they might recognise him. 

They can’t risk the chance of a sighting of Y/n, especially now that her face was captured and shared on social media by fans before JYPE’s legal team was able to step in, and pictures of Chan with Y/n would make things much worse. There have already been rumours about how close Y/n is with all the members and who she is, using pictures from other schedules and events, somehow identifying her in blurred out clips from vlogs that have been posted, and even old footage from when she worked with Xdinary Heroes as evidence. 

It scares Chan. Scares him so much that he can’t talk about it to anybody.

Although Y/n’s time in the hospital was fairly short, all things considered, Chan feels like he’s the one that has changed during this stay. Everything he has learned has made him feel like his chest has been opened up and his insides have been scooped out, leaving him hollowed out and unsteady. 

When they finally get home safely, it feels like Chan can breathe easily for the first time in days.

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[honeys-hotties]

Just Business (Mapi Leon x fem!Reader)

Got a fabulous request about a businesswoman reader who is accused of being a golddigger by the team, and I juts kind of ran with it! Fyi the team are pretty mean in the beginning, especially Ingrid, but don't come at me please! I love Ingrid, she's amazingly talented! Anyways, I was so stressed and had a little bit of a writer's block but these requests have been so incredibly helpful, so keep 'em coming! Love you all endlessly<3

Word count; 3.5k

“Five more minutes” I groan into Mapi’s shoulder. She chuckles into my hair, her grip on my waist loosening as she reaches to turn off her alarm. “Sorry mi amor, I have to get ready extra early for the match today, Alexia is stressed and I promised I would do some extra warmups with her today, plus she wants me to come over and watch some film of the other team before we go to the stadium.”

I sigh, sitting up in bed, letting the covers fall down my body. “And there’s nothing I could do to convince you to stay?” I ask shifting slightly towards her. 

She smirks, moving to stand over me at the end of the bed. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Besides, you have to get ready for work.”

I sigh dramatically, reaching for one of Mapi’s hoodies to pull on. “I run the whole company, they could survive without me for one day.”

“While I’m sure that’s true, my team needs me. Te amo, princesa. I’ll see you at the game.” She kisses me firmly, and I sigh. 

“Love you too. I can’t wait for the game! Tell Alexia I say hi!” Mapi nods, smiling, and grabbing her game bag and heading for the front door. I sigh and walk to the kitchen to brew some coffee, before pulling out my laptop to check some work emails before I get ready. 

I founded my company, Herstory, when I was nineteen. It soon became one of the largest worldwide media companies, focused on giving voice to powerful women who were often minoritized in favor of their male counterparts. The company had done extremely well and I, as a result, had carved out a fabulous life for myself. However, I refused to let the money take over my life and had tried to live as normally as possible. I didn’t even fully reveal everything to Mapi for the first few months of us knowing each other, and she only put the pieces together after seeing an interview I had done online. 

Mapi and I had been dating for the past two years, and they had arguably been the best two years of my life. We had managed to keep our relationship on the down low, only letting our closest friends and family know, which ended up working out absolutely perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. For some reason that I couldn’t seem to fathom, Mapi’s friends and teammates seemed to despise me. I had first met them six months after Mapi and I had begun dating after she invited me to a party the team was having. She was so excited, telling me how much I would love every single one of the girls she considered family and how they couldn’t wait to meet me, her “stunning and brilliant” girlfriend. I had been thrilled that, even though we were choosing to keep the relationship private, Mapi was so happy to introduce me to her friends, and being a little bit of a football fan myself, I couldn’t wait to meet the amazing Barcelona team. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The night had started out okay, and everyone seemed really friendly. I was sitting next to Mapi, with Ingrid on my right and Alexia, Claudia and Patri across from me. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Mapi had announced to the table, before turning to me. “Mi amor, what do you want?”

I pointed to my half empty glass on the table. “A refill would be amazing, thank you baby.” She smiled, grabbing my glass and walking towards the bar. Watching my girlfriend walk away, I had missed the glance Ingrid had shot Patri, but when I turned back everything seemed normal. 

“That’s a really cool tattoo!” Alexia said, gesturing to the tattoo on my shoulder blade that had been revealed when I turned to watch Mapi, the open back of my dress showing off the ink that Mapi had done a couple of weeks prior.

“Thank you!” I said. “Mapi did it a couple of weeks ago, she’s so talented I swear! Her work is absolutely stunning.”

This time, I definitely didn’t miss the looks of a few of the girls at the table, but I brushed them off.

“So, what is it exactly you do for work?” Ingrid asked, turning to look at me.

“I actually have my own business!” I said proudly. I can’t help it, I’m constantly in shock of how lucky I’ve been to be able to do what I love. However, the team seemed less than impressed. 

“That’s…really interesting,” Claudia said, before whispering something to Alexia next to her. Alexia laughed quietly before, nudging Claudia with her elbow.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Patri said, glancing at Ingrid who had a little smirk on her face. 

“You must work really hard, you poor thing,” Ingrid said in a sickly sweet voice. “I can’t imagine having to run my own business, especially when it’s so hard to accomplish much when you put in so much effort.”

The girls at the table around me snickered, and I could feel my face grow hot. “Um, actually-” I started, but before I could finish Mapi sat back down beside me. “Here’s your drink, gorgeous.” She said, setting the glass down in front of me. I kissed her cheek in thanks before turning back to the table. I started to say something, but before I could get the words out, Alexia interrupted me, asking Mapi something about their upcoming match. Throughout the night, I kept quiet, leaning into Mapi’s side and trying not to make eye contact with the girls around me. I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong, but I felt like I was back in high school, hiding from the popular crowd that would always make fun of me. By the time we got back to Mapi’s apartment that night I was on the verge of tears. She took me in her arms, sensing that something was wrong but that I wasn;t ready to talk about it. We stood in her apartment for who knows how long, me crying quietly into her button-up while she just held me. That’s one of my favorite things about Mapi (I could never just pick one). She seems to know what I need without me ever having to say anything. It’s like she can read my mind, and I hers.

Finally releasing me, she gently gripped my waist with one hand and lifted my chin to look her in the eyes. “Want to tell me what’s wrong, bebe?” she asked.

I nodded, wiping the last few tears from my eyes. “I just have this horrible feeling that your friends hate me, and I don’t know why.” I whispered, before lowering my eyes again. 

She gently raised my chin again, staring into my eyes with her piercing ones. “I’m sure that’s not true, maybe they were just tired? It’s been a long week, and I don’t think anyone could ever dislike you. You’re the most brilliant, funny, wonderful, kind, smoking hot woman I’ve ever known, and they would be foolish to not see this.”

I smile up at her, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend. Her tough exterior can be misleading, but Mapi is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Maps. I love you.” I tell her, kissing her softly. 

“I’m the lucky one,” she assures me. “Now go change, I’ll run us a bath, and then we can watch some TV with Bagheera.” She reaches down to grab the cat that had been threading itself through our legs, kissing his head before placing him on the couch.

I smile, walking towards her bedroom. How did I get so lucky?

I finish getting ready for work, before grabbing my keys and my bag with the clothes I’ll wear to the game. I don’t have time to come home after work, so I had packed everything I needed in my bag the night before. On the way to work, I listen to a playlist Mapi and I had made one Saturday with all our favorites, thinking about the day ahead. Work would be easy enough, I had a couple of meetings with some division leaders within the company, and a longer conference with a few of the women we were working with to get their stories into the world. I love my job, so every day brings me joy, but days like this are my favorite. Days when I get to listen to the stories of some of the most incredible women in the world and help them share their voices. Plus, I get to go see my amazing girlfriend play professional football later, which is a bonus. The only thing I wasn’t looking forward to was interacting with the team, who had continued to be increasingly passive-aggressive towards me. Mapi assured me they were just protective, but it seemed like something much more. However, I had yet to confront anyone about it, instead choosing to focus solely on my girlfriend. 

The day passes quickly, and soon enough it’s time to get ready for the match. I change into my Mapi kit, the special one she had made for me that has the date we first met printed on the hem, as well as a number of small hearts hidden among the fabric. Discreet enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but we both knew where they were. I put on the necklace and earrings Mapi had gotten me for my birthday a few weeks before (she had gone all out for the celebration, despite my repeated insistence I didn’t need anything, and I honestly loved her for it), before applying some light makeup and heading to the stadium. I showed my pass at the front desk, and was led to the family and friends section in time to see my girlfriend and her team take the pitch. The game passed in a blur, Barcelona scoring three times in the first half. Coming into the second half, Barcelona hits the ground running, scoring within the first two minutes. This seems to anger the opposing team, and they start to play dirtier. Tackles are flying, and in the chaos Alexia goes for a wide shot, which is ultimately deflected by the opposing goalie. Mapi lines up near the goal for the corner, and once the ball is in motion she times a stunning header perfectly, sending the ball into the back of the net. I jump to my feet, screaming along with the crowd. Mapi blows a kiss in my direction, before being swarmed by her teammates. 

The rest of the game passes quickly, Alexia and Patri both scoring before full time is called. When the final whistle blows, I cheer along with the crowd as the team takes a victory lap, stopping to chat with fans along the way. As the people in the stands start to leave, I make my way down towards the pitch. Mapi meets me at the barricade, and helps me onto the pitch. Once next to her, I launch myself into her arms, my legs wrapping around her waist as she hugs me tightly. “Amazing goal, amor” I tell her, as she discreetly kisses my neck before setting me back down.

“It was for you” she assures me, before wrapping her arm around my waist and dragging me towards the rest of the team. I greet her teammates, the women giving me lackluster nods before returning to their own conversations.

“Amazing goal, Alexia!” I tell the brunette next to me. She turns to look at me, giving me a tight smile. “Gracias” she responds, before pointedly turning back to Jenni who was standing on her other side.

“That’s a pretty necklace,” Ingrid said sweetly, gesturing to the one dangling from my neck. “Where did you get it?”

“I got it for her,” Mapi said proudly. “A gem for my gem.” I blushed, curling into her to hide my warm face, laughing slightly at her joke. I however, didn’t miss Ingrid rolling her eyes and looking sharply at Patri.

“Did Mapi get those earrings for you, too?” Patri asked sharply.

“Uh yeah, she did!” I answered, turning to face the woman. “How’d you know?”

She looked at me coldly. “Just a hunch” she said, before muttering something to Jenni who let out a loud laugh. Mapi, oblivious to everything, turned to look at the stands and saw a young girl holding out a sign with mapi’s name on it.

“Aww, babe, look!” she exclaimed, tugging me towards the sign. “Let’s go say hi!” 

I pushed everything from my mind and focused on Mapi’s interaction with the young fan. She was so attentive and kind, and watching her with the young girl couldn’t help but make me think of a future with her, and maybe a little kid of our own. 

“Hey, hermosa,” Mapi said to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Would you mind grabbing my warmup from the girls over there so I can change into something after I give this chica my kit?”

“Of course not!” I tell her, smiling at the little girl who looked like she was about to pass out at the idea of getting Mapi Leon’s kit. “I’ll be right back!”

I jog over to the team, who is standing huddled in even closer than before. As I approach, I hear Ingrid’s angry voice. 

“-and we have to say something! This has gone on for long enough, I can’t watch her stay with that gold digging bitch any longer!”

I freeze. Inching closer to the group, they thankfully don’t seem to see me.

“Come on Ingrid, is she really that bad?” I hear another voice, belonging to Marta. “She seems to make Mapi really happy, and she honestly seems like such a sweet girl. I think you are too harsh on her.”

My blood runs cold. Me? A golddigger? I would laugh if I didn’t feel like bursting into tears.

“I think we know exactly how she’s making Mapi happy” Jenni bites out, and the girls laugh.

“Honestly, I think we need to tell Mapi sooner rather than later, it’ll help her in the long run” Alexia says, and as most of the girls agree, I clear my throat.

It’s almost comical, they way they all turn to face me. Alexia’s face drops, as do the faces of most of the other girls.

I paste on a fake smile. “Have any of you seen Mapi’s warm up jacket?” I ask. “She wants to give her kit to that little girl over there and asked me to come find the jacket for her.”

Wordlessly, Sandra hands me Mapi’s jacket. I mutter a thank you before turning to walk towards my girlfriend. I pause for a moment, then turn back around.

“Just for the record, not that it matters, but just so you all know, I’m most certainly not a golddigger. None of you even know me, not really, but the fact that this is the conclusion that you have jumped to breaks my heart. Especially because it seems to be the reason you've treated me so horribly. If you really cared about Mapi like you say you do, you would have made an effort to get to know her girlfriend instead of jumping to ridiculous accusations and high school mean girl actions.”

Ingrid scoffs. “You are a golddigger!” she shouts. “Mapi is constantly buying things for you, paying for you, and we all know you’re just using her for her money! You’ll drop her the second you get a chance and we are not about to let that happen!”

Looking at Ingrid and the team standing around her, I break. The tears start to fall, slowly at first, then all at once, and I run off of the pitch. I run off so quickly that I don’t see Mapi, who had finished with the fan and found another hoodie to wear, walking up beside the team. Ingrid had been yelling so loudly she had heard the entire speech, and she was now standing beside the team, anger taking over every feature on her face.

“What the hell did you just say to my girlfriend?” she shouts at Ingrid, the taller girl spinning to face her.

“All of you! What is wrong with you? She is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you have all been treating her horribly!”

“We are only trying to look out for you,” Alexia says, approaching Mapi. “We don’t want you to get used or for your heart to get broken.”

Mapi backs away from Alexia. “She makes more money than I do!” she shouts. “Her business is huge! And if any of you had taken the time to get to know her, you would know that.”

One by one, the faces of everyone on the team fall. “What?” Patri asks, hoarsely.

“I can’t believe all of you. You may have just ruined the best thing in my life. I hope you’re all proud of yourselves.” Mapi says, a tear falling.

Alexia looks at her friend, then back at her team. Instantly, she knows they have to go into damage control mode. If Mapi was crying, they had really fucked up. Mapi never cried, especially not around them.

Alexia gently approached Mapi, putting her arms around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “How can we make this right?” she asked.

Back at my apartment, I changed into an old shirt of Mapi’s and a pair of shorts before grabbing a tub of ice cream and sitting down on the couch, where I planned to spend the rest of the night watching television and crying. However, my wallowing was cut short. After only two episodes of Friends, there was a knock at my door. Assuming it was Mapi, I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but most of all I didn’t want to get up. I figured Mapi would unlock the door in a minute with her key, so I stayed where I was. There was another knock, before the door opened. I sighed, pausing the television, but not turning around. 

“Mapi, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.”

“It’s, um, not Mapi.” a voice said. I turned around in shock, and saw Alexia standing by the door, the rest of the team visible behind her. I stood up, walking towards the team.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you even get in?”

“Mapi gave us her key,” Ingrid spoke up. “She’s on her way, but she wanted to give us a chance to apologize before she got here.”

“We can leave though, if you want?” Alexia said. “We just really wanted to tell you how sorry we are. We never meant for things to end up like this, we just got carried away in trying to protect our friend. But instead, you got hurt, and we don’t know what we can do to make it up to you.”

My eyes move over the rest of the team, and I’m shocked to find tears on Claudia’s face. Patri looks just as miserable, and Marta looks furious with her team, as does Sandra.

“I, I don’t really know what to say.” I stammer out. 

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Ingrid assures me. “But we brought food and games, we thought maybe we could have a game night, or maybe a movie night?” 

I sigh slightly, before smiling a little. “That sounds really nice,” I say. “Come on in!”

I can hear the sigh of relief breathed from practically everyone, and they make their way into my apartment. Alexia, Marta, Jenni and Sandra carry a number of bags and follow me to the kitchen where they start pulling out containers and boxes of food to set up. The others start setting up games in the living room, and someone obviously brought a speaker because music starts playing. I smile, looking around my house, and almost miss the knocking coming from the front door. I open it to see Mapi, holding a bouquet and looking adorable in a pajama onesie I had gotten her as a joke (I have a matching one in my closet). She peers into the apartment, and, seeing the girls behind me, breathes a huge sigh of relief. I pull her into a tight hug, and she kisses me softly. 

“I’m so, sorry sorry bebe,” she says into my hair, pulling me even tighter into her embrace. “I had no idea what was going on, but I’m so happy we sorted everything out and I can spend the night with my favorite girls.”

I grin, and, grabbing her larger hand in mine, drag her into the house. 

The night is amazing, and, as Alexia assures me, the first of many. She pulls me aside later to apologize, as do Ingrid, Patri, Claudia and Jenni. It may have been a rocky start, but I can tell that these amazing women will turn out to be some of my closest friends in the world, and they prove themselves time and time again in the years to come, how much they have changed and how much they love Mapi and I. 

[cuddlepilefics]

I don’t mean to get emotional

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Chan

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompts: Fear / Breaking point / “I can’t stop crying, I’m sorry—”

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

“Hyung, are you sure, you don’t wanna lay down? Just a quick power-nap or something”, Changbin asked softly, resting his hand between Chan’s shoulder blades. The Aussie had been nursing a headache for over a week now and was getting increasingly rundown, yet that didn’t stop him from spending the night at the studio. 3racha had been at it for hours and Chan’s eyes already watered from the bright screen, so his dongsaengs did their best to convince him to take a break. Resting his chin on his hand, Chan hummed: “Not gonna sleep.” – “We know, hyung”, Jisung sighed, “Your eyes look really irritated though, so why don’t you let us take over?” – “Yeah, hyung. You can still add your ideas from the couch with your eyes closed. We’ll note them down. Come on”, Changbin encouraged, helping the older up. Chan didn’t put up much of a fight when he was manhandled onto the small couch at the back of the studio but while Jisung already moved in front of the laptop, Changbin couldn’t help but notice how warm their leader felt.

A relieved sigh left Chan’s lips as he relaxed into the cushions. He hadn’t realized just how tense he had been until he was able to lay down. That didn’t mean that just because he was horizontal now, he’d stop working. Oh no, most definitely not. Chan still had a lot to add to their tracks but eventually allowed his eyes to close, when Jisung played the changes he proposed over the speakers to try them out. After a while, Changbin noted that Chan had been quiet for a bit and asked softly: “I think if we change the last syllable, it’ll rhyme better. What do you think, Chan-hyung?” Both, him and Jisung looked at the eldest intently, but he didn’t even stir. “Finally asleep?”, Jisung breathed hopefully and watched how Changbin scooted closer to their leader. Lightly brushing the back of his hand against Chan’s forehead, Changbin frowned and moved it to the other’s cheek before humming: “Hyung has a fever. No wonder he’s been so rundown. With how long he’s had a headache, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already had that temperature a few days ago.”

Wanting Chan to get as much sleep as possible, Changbin carefully tugged the Aussie’s beanie down over his eyes, so the light wouldn’t bother him. Jisung had already put on headphones by the time Changbin rejoined him at the desk and the two continued working in silence, trying their best to not wake their hyung. With their headphones on, they didn’t hear the soft groans coming from Chan as he slept but even if they had, they probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. The older often sounded distressed in his sleep when apparently everything was fine, so they had learned not to wake him. Only when Jisung caught a movement from the corner of his eye, did he turn around to study the other. Realizing that Chan was shivering, the younger adjusted the air-conditioning and dug a thin blanket out from one of the bottom drawers. That was the benefit of having their own studio and having spent many nights there. They were well equipped and Jisung had an easier time focusing after making sure his hyung was tucked in warmly.

~

They had been working in this track for ages and felt like it finally was their time to present it. JYP had them come in for their evaluations, which happened more frequently now that they had entered the survival show. Chan didn’t hate the evaluations like one might think. After so many years, he had finally gotten the chance to pick members for the show and to lead them through it. Though he worried about the results of their evaluations every time, he saw them as a chance to prove himself. Today, 3racha would be evaluated as a sub-unit of Stray Kids and Chan really felt like they were in their element. This was his group, they were performing his song.

JYP remaining stoic throughout their performance was no surprise. He usually did that for suspense and maybe also to see if they’d waver or remain confident. What was not all that usual was JYP asking them to go a second time. “Try it again without Chan?” The Aussie felt his heart sink and he could barely breathe when Changbin and Jisung performed the track a second time, though this time as a duo. This couldn’t be true. Not again. He could not be removed from another group he had been training with. The group he himself had assembled. JYP really thought Chan’s song sounded better without him in it?! That thought made the Aussie feel sick to his stomach and it was like someone had pulled the rug from under his feet. He felt himself falling…

~

“Hyung?”, Changbin asked for a second time after Chan had shot upright. With a trembling hand, the older pushed his beanie back up and was finally able to see again although his heart still raced. Spinning his chair around, Jisung too pulled off his headphones and watched in stunned silence as the Aussie burst into tears. Changbin hesitantly got up and took a seat on the couch next to Chan, opening his arms to silently offer a hug without forcing himself on the older. When Chan slowly leant against him, Changbin whispered: “Did you have a nightmare?” Still trying to get his bearings and assure himself of where he was, it took a moment for Chan to nod. Jisung picked up the Aussie’s water bottle and offered him a drink.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”, Changbin hummed, handing Chan a tissue. For some reason, the older has a hard time calming down, despite realizing that it had only been a dream. Drawing a shaky breath, the Aussie tried to pull himself together but failed when his chest immediately hitched again. “I can’t stop crying, I’m sorry-”, Chan choked out, rubbing at his eyes. Tracing his back, Changbin promised: “It’s okay to get emotional from time to time. Especially with the fever you’re sporting.” – “Fever?”, the leader sniffled pathetically. Changbin and Jisung looked at him in disbelief, Jisung muttering: “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.” – “Uhm”, the Aussie mumbled, running one hand under his nose, “I- I actually didn’t? Makes sense in hindsight though.” – “Mhm, it surely does”, Changbin sighed, motioning for Jisung to save their work and pack up, “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

When they got back to their dorm, they expected Hyunjin to have gone to bed already but him and Felix were still watching dramas in the living room. “You’re home!”, Hyunjin exclaimed, Felix’ face lighting up instantly when he spotted his hyungs. The dancer’s smile quickly faltered though when he caught a glance at Chan’s face. The leader’s eyes were still a little puffy from crying and held a sickly gloss, which combined with the flush on his cheeks easily gave away his fever. Getting up from the couch, Felix frowned: “You don’t look so good, Chan-hyung.” The eldest hummed in confirmation and rested his head on Felix’ shoulder when the younger pulled him into a hug. “And you’re overly warm”, the dancer added, reaching up to cup Chan’s cheek.

Changbin already set about warming up a late dinner for Chan, so they could fetch him some painkillers for his headache, while Jisung explained: “Someone needs to learn how to read his body’s signals, right, hyung?” Chan grumbled something, which came out muffled by Felix’ shoulder but when the younger pulled away, he saw the unshed tears in the leader’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”, Felix whispered but Chan only shook his head, breathing: “I don’t mean to get emotional.” – “It’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of”, the younger assured, tightening his hug. He glanced towards the kitchen to figure out what Changbin was doing, when the rapper already returned, humming: “You should have a bite, hyung. I’ll go and fetch you some medicine.” – “Thanks, Bin. Not really hungry but I’m tired of this headache”, Chan whispered to keep his voice from cracking.

Chan plopped down on the couch and drew his legs closer to try and ease the chills as he hesitantly lifted a bite to his lips. Hyunjin and Felix sat down in either side of him and kept him company, smiling a little when Changbin placed two pills and a glass of water on the coffee table. Hyunjin traced Chan’s back while he ate and the leader barely knew how to handle the affection. He felt flustered, especially with the amount of eyes on him, but he was to tired to do anything about it. Secretly, he hoped Felix would stay for a sleepover and cuddles, though he knew it would be unwise to risk the dancer getting sick too.

With the encouragement of his friends, Chan found the energy to take a shower before bed and was glad he had. The warm water soothed the deep ache in his muscles and seemed to release some pent up emotions, the leader hadn’t even been aware of. At least, he would have to feel the tears on his face with the water running over his skin, washing them away immediately. Nobody would see him overwhelmed by his emotions now, which Chan couldn’t be more glad about but that didn’t mean that his nose didn’t get incredibly stuffed up from all the crying. To his relief, nobody pointed it out and perhaps, his dongsaengs just assumed it to be one more sign of his illness. At least, the Aussie hoped so.

“Hey, are you feeling up for cuddles or would you like some space?”, Felix hummed when Chan sleepily shuffled out of the bathroom. He knew his hyung tended to get vivid nightmares whenever he ran a temperature and Changbin and Jisung had confirmed that once again while the leader was in the shower, so Felix couldn’t bear the thought of his Aussie brother experiencing the fear all by himself.Though he felt a little guilty about it, Chan mumbled hesitantly: “I think, I’d really like cuddles, actually.” – “How about you get ready for bed and I’ll be there in a minute”, Felix smiled kindly, squeezing Chan’s shoulder before walking off, “You guys don’t mind me borrowing some sleep clothes, right?” – “Have we ever?”, came Changbin’ and Jisung’s muffled reply and the younger giggled at their sync.

Laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, Chan contemplated going back on his request. He really didn’t want Felix to feel this wrecked but before he could dwell on it more, he felt the bed dip next to him and only a moment later, his favorite koala was pressed against his side. The dancer had noticed how irritated and puffy Chan’s eyes looked and had fetched a cold washcloth. “Close your eyes, hyung”, Felix whispered, gently draping the cloth over his hyung’s eyes. He smiled when the tension on the lower half of the leader’s face melted away, his jaw no longer clenched. When Felix ran his fingers through Chan’s damp curls, the older was already asleep.

[bruisedboys]

🧸 — send in a character + a scenario prompt for a blurb!

Congratulations on 2k 🥳 I was thinking about a Grumpy x Sunshine with Tasm! Peter Parker.

thank you for your request babe!

summary: peter comforts a grumpy you when you’re sick of studying

fem!reader 0.6k words

Studying sucks. You’ve had enough of it after about ten seconds, but you keep at it because you have to and because you don’t want to bother Peter, who seems much more inclined to study than you.

He’s sitting on his bed bent over his laptop, the screen light reflecting in his glasses and his hair all messy from where he’s run his hands through it. His posture is awful and you’ve told him so but he always ends up in the same position anyway. You sit and watch him for too long before realising you’ve gotten distracted. Again.

You sigh, long suffering, and turn back to your books on Peter’s desk. You’re picking up your pencil like it’s a chore when Peter speaks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, sounding sympathetic. “That’s about the hundredth time I’ve heard you sigh in the past ten minutes. Are you okay?”

You look up from your books and frown at him.

“No,” you moan, maybe more dramatic than you need to be but this really does suck. You’re bored and you’re tired and you’ve got a headache. And you want to cuddle your boyfriend.

Peter, ever the optimist, offers you a soft smile, tilting his head to one side. It’s so cute you almost stop frowning. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He says it like he can fix whatever’s wrong, like he can solve all your problems and more. You’re sure he could.

“I’m tired,” you mope. “And I have a headache.”

Peter makes a pitying noise that makes your heart stutter. He slides his laptop off of his lap and climbs off the bed, crossing the room in a few quick strides until he’s standing in front of you in your desk chair.

He takes your face in his hands and it’s so nice you could cry.

“My poor girl,” he says sympathetically, his hands rubbing at your neck. He doesn’t frown, rather, he smiles, all big and bright and pretty. He’s got a lovely smile. “Should we take a break, dove?”

You don’t smile because you’re still grumpy, but you do manage to soften out your furrowed brows. “Yeah, please.”

Pete beams, and you’d be jealous of how happy he is all the time if he didn’t look so cute doing it. He drops his hands and holds one out for you to take.

“C’mon then. Do you want to go for a walk? Or should we could order takeout, if you’re hungry. Oh, we could watch that show you like, the one with—“

“Pete.” You grab his hand to stop him listing off more options. You give his fingers a squeeze. “I love you, but I’m too tired to do any of that, baby. I just wanna cuddle.”

Peter’s smile doesn’t waver, because it never does.

“Okay, lovebug,” he says cheerfully. He pulls you out of your chair with ease and leads you over to the bed.

“You know, you could’ve just asked, sweetheart,” he says lightly, tugging you onto the bed with him. He’s smiling big so you know he’s not being cruel. Besides, when is he ever cruel? You’re the one with a short fuse. “I mean, instead of sitting and sighing like I can read your mind.”

You climb into bed next to him, hook one leg over his and throw your arm across his chest. He’s warm, and just as comfortable as you’ve been imagining.

“But you can read my mind,” you say into his chest, only half joking. Sometimes he knows you so well you think he can see every one of your thoughts. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him.

Peter chuckles, his chest vibrating with the sound, his fingers traversing a path down your back, bumping over the ridges in your spine. It’s so nice you forget about frowning. You smile into Peter’s chest. His hand stops short in between your shoulder blades.

“Are you smiling?” He asks teasingly, even though he can’t see your face where you’re squished into his chest.

“Mind reader,” you say accusingly.

Peter laughs again.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 8!

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Robbery, knives, angst.

A/N: Look, *deep breath* I'm sorry.

I should just forget about him, you think to yourself on the walk home.

It was embarrasing, you hadn't seen him in days since he left you in that elevator, and the absence of him managed to make you feel even worse.

He hadn't been home either, you'd kept the curtains parted so that you could catch any movements in his windows. So far, nothing.

It had made you feel so upset and you couldn't even figure out why. Maybe you were getting too attached to him.

Exposing yourself so intimately, sabotaging your work relationship and there was nothing to be gained from it anyway. He just wasn't interested in you like that.

You were maybe a little glad too, at least you knew you weren't in any trouble for the little show you'd put on.

Or were you?

What if his stoicism towards you was because he was planning to fire you.

No, no, it made no sense, his phone call after he'd seen you had been too intimate. If there was going to be any consequences, it would have happened by now.

Right?

Ugh, you didn't know, and you just wanted to forget this had ever happened.

You sigh, tugging your phone out and absentmindedly trying to book an appointment with your therapist. Maybe she would help you feel better about your new work environment.

Your shoulder bumps harshly into someone, and you raise your head to apologise.

You've made a wrong turn somewhere, too taken in with your phone to notice that you've turned down an isolated alleyway.

"S-sorry." You murmur, backing away, only to bump into another figure.

Holy shit this was bad.

"Give me the bag." The first man says evenly, angling his head toward the pale pink handbag hanging off your elbow.

"Please, I don't want any trouble." You say, pocketing your phone quickly, carefully pressing the power button a couple of times to send a distress signal. You had it set so that Dani and Amy would receive alerts if you needed help.

The first man, pulls a knife out of his pocket, you watch warily as the blade springs out of the handle with a wicked glint. You can feel your phone begin to vibrate endlessly as your friends try to call to figure out if this was accidental or not.

Your heart is racing, but you find that your thinking is razor sharp, only a little bit of panic swimming through you.

If there had been only one man, running would have been a good option, but with the second man at your back, you have no choice but to surrender your bag.

Your work laptop was in there, and your wallet, you really hated to lose either one of those things.

The man takes it from you and then steps closer, his knife still pointed in your direction.

"Now the jewellery and the phone." He prompts.

Your hands shake, you needed to find a way to keep holding onto your phone.

You tug your watch off easily, and your earrings, they were just cheap pieces that were your favourite, but ultimately replaceable.

The panther necklace, was not, and you would not give it up without a fight, however stupid that would be.

You extend your watch and earrings to the man, letting them slip from your hand at the very second and watching it fall.

It's that moment, with one man distracted, you turn to run.

The other man is fast, he reaches for you, pushes you into the nearby wall.

You're stunned for a moment, and you feel the scrape of his nails as he tears your necklace off your neck, and when he gets in close to grab your phone, you bring your knee up to kick him straight between the legs. He bends over in pain, and you take the opportunity to slip away, running as fast as you can out of the lonely alley. You don't stop until you're out in a public place.

You reach for your phone, pulling it out, several missed calls from both Dani and Amy flood your phone.

You update them quickly, and they direct you to the nearest police precinct.

As you head there, you dial Anvil's IT department, explaining the situation so that they can restrict access from your account to the server.

You're sitting in the precinct when Amy makes it to you. She takes you into a hug, pulling back to study your form.

Her eyes catch the two deep scratches on your neck, short red lines where the man's nails had clawed into you while ripping your necklace from your neck.

She hugs you again tighter than before, surprising you with her strength.

"I'm okay." You mumble against her shoulder.

Honestly, you couldn't feel a thing, your emotions had been shocked numb from the minute you'd seen the knife.

What rotten luck, to have experienced what you have, essentially hitting some type of morbid trifecta, a murderer, a stalker and now a thief.

You find yourself laughing into Amy's shoulder, and you can't stop.

She pulls back in shock, looking up at you.

You laugh harder when you see the concerned expression on her face.

"There's too many plot points," You try to explain to her, though you're not sure you're making any sense, "If my life was a book this would be a shitty amount of coincidence."

There's a quiet silence as she takes in your words, observing your laughter, and notes the way your eyes fill with tears.

"Oh love," She murmurs after a moment. "Multiple bad things happen to people all the time."

Your laughter turns sour, something awful fills your throat, your lip trembles for a small moment as you fight the emotion, and then like a dam breaking, it spills from you in little sobs.

"This is too much," You gasp, feeling her arms squeeze you tighter as you cry, "Why do these things keep happening to me?"

You cry harder against her, she soothes you with her embrace.

"They took my necklace." You say sadly against her.

She makes a sympathetic sound. She knew how much it means to you.

"We'll get it back, love, didn't you have a tag in your bag just for this reason?"

"Yeah," you sniffle, "there's one in my wallet, I gave the cops access to find it, and Anvil also has something on the laptop."

"See? Don't lose hope yet."

You sigh, there was a location on your wallet and laptop, but there was no guarantee that the necklace would even be in the same place. You felt so disconnected now, so unsafe. There was no panther coming to protect you here.

"Why don't we go home? If the police find anything, they can call you. Waiting here is too tedious." Amy suggests, and you nod in agreement, sniffling a little and pulling away. She tugs a tissue from her little bag and you accept it gratefully.

You don't live too far from the precinct, and a ten minute drive in a taxi and you're there.

Amy doesn't leave you, and Dani arrives when you're in the shower.

You sit with them, enjoying tea in your living room, and after a long talk about your ordeal, and the endless reassurances from them that you're safe now, they decide to distract you with Studio Ghibli movies.

It sort of works, though your most recent ordeal reminds you of your past ones.

Somehow, you think that your past experience with the murderer, made this one more manageable, it's probably why you had a clear head from the moment the man pulled out the knife. However bad this was, it was nothing compared to being hunted in the woods at night.

A knock at your front door startles you, and you jump at the booming sound.

Dani reaches to pause the movie, and for a moment you're too stunned to move.

"Who is it?" You call, pulling the sheets away from your body and rising to a stand.

"It's Billy." He answers, voice muffled through the wood.

You suck in a breath, trying to ignore the shocked expressions on Amy and Dani's face, making your way to the door and taking a small breath before opening it up.

You don't get much of a word in before you're being pulled right into his arms.

You stand there, shocked beyond reason as his arms encircle you. Your body responds eagerly to his embrace, relaxing against him so easily that it would scare you if you could be anything other than shocked.

Your arms lift, wrapping around him to return his hold, wondering how on earth you ended up in this position.

It feels so right to hold him, to pull him even closer and feel him respond by tightening his embrace, until it feels like a hug between old friends.

His scent wraps around you, and you rise onto your toes, eager to catch more of the jasmine and oak that his body smells of.

How on earth does he make you feel so safe? So protected in a way you haven't felt in such a long time.

"Are you hurt?" He asks after a moment, large hand cupping the back of your neck as you pull away.

"I'm okay." You say simply, watching the way his eyes roam down your face and stop at the scratches on your neck.

He lets out a slow breath, fingers trailing over your neck, his thumb brushing the deep welts.

You gasp when his thumb swipes a little too close, a frown forming on his face.

"I lost my company laptop-"

"-That's alright," he soothes, "It's not the first time, and my consultant helped me put some vigorous security protocols into place."

You find yourself grinning at him, and he smiles back.

"If you need anything, anything at all, please call me."

You take a moment, looking into his eyes, trying to figure out how he could be so cold one moment and so surprisingly warm the next.

"Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He lets out a shaky breath, before you know it, he's placing a careful kiss to the top of your head and your heart is doing rapid palpitations at the sensation.

You say goodbye to him as you close the door, waiting a moment before snapping the lock shut.

You turn in shock, leaning against the door, eyes wide and breathing rapid.

"Ohmygod." You rush out, turning to look at Dani and Amy in a 'can you believe that just happened?' type of way.

"I thought you said he doesn't like you." Dani says with a tone of confusion in her voice.

"He doesn't." You answer, not fully sounding quite so sure.

Amy huffs.

"I don't know about you, but that man quite clearly and obviously wants you bad." She states.

Oh how you wish it were true.

.

You're barely able to sleep all night, despite the fact that you know both your friends are asleep in other rooms or your apartment. You're less lonely than usual, and arguably a little more safe, and yet still, you can't relax your body for long enough to sleep.

The only thing that really calms you, is the reminder of what it was like to be in his arms.

You roll onto your side, pulling a pillow as close to you as possble, wrapping your arms around it and imagining that it's him.

Your brain refuses to accept the placebo, too focused on what's missing, his scent, his hearbeat, the warmth of his body- you flop around angrily, deciding to watch videos on your phone instead of sleeping.

You don't notice it's morning until you spot the sunlight spilling through the gaps in your curtains.

You let out a long sigh, sitting up and moving to your living room.

Both women are already awake too. Amy takes one look at you and sighs.

"Not a wink, huh?"

"You know me so well." You reply with a teasing smile.

They both have to get to work, and you reassure them that you're actually not doing so bad, you'd been able to get a few days off of work yourself.

"Call us if you need anything," Dani says, kissing the top of your head as she leaves, "Or call that hot boss of yours."

"He doesn't like me like that!" You call out to them as they leave, and you hear their laughter through the door, no doubt disagreeing with your words out of earshot.

You sigh, sipping on your coffee with indignation.

You spend the day lazing around, looking up the application processes for getting new identification and replacing all the additional cards you had in your wallet.

You'd already called the bank and put in a request to freeze your cards, still holding out hope that you might be able to get your wallet back instead of having to go get new cards for everything.

You frown, raising your hand to your neck, feeling for the necklace you lost, hating that you felt like something was missing all throughout the day.

When you get a call from the precinct in the afternoon, telling you that your bag had been recovered, you'd been so happy to hear it.

You'd gotten dressed, grabbed your keys and your phone with the intention of grabbing a taxi on the street, but suddenly found difficulty in actually leaving your apartment.

What was going on with you?

The idea that leaving your place meant you were at risk of being attacked again sent so much fear down your spine that you shut your door and curled up on your couch in distress.

You were scared.

Simply put, the very thought of being out in the open, so vulnerable, filled you with trepidation.

Someone could attack you again, maybe even finish the job this time. The photo of you leaving Amy's apartment comes to mind.

You didn't know if someone was still following you. What if they were? What if they were waiting for you right outside?

How many close calls could you have before you ran out of luck?

The memory of his voice comes back to you.

"Promise me." He'd said.

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone.

.

.

.

A/N: Don't hate me

[burning-academia-if]

the mandatory second part of the dressed up ask where the mc comes back from the date upset and/or crying because they either got stood up or the date went terribly and the ros reaction to that?

Part 1

Presenting part 2:

Rook:

He finds you crying. Some of your friends had already found you before, but you’d warded them off immediately and any attempt at comfort had failed. He knows why your friends would then go to him, as though he’d have an easier time at comforting you, but it doesn’t make it true.

Now, he lingers awkwardly at your door as you stare at him with red rimmed eyes. Your tears are silent, and they drip down in the languid way tears do after someone has been crying a while.

“…May I come in?” You let him and when he’s inside it takes a moment for him to place himself. As though he wasn’t there, you wander back to your room and collapse on your bed. “I, uh, heard it was bad but…”

You laugh, voice raw and raspy, “Yeah.”

“How bad?”

Your eyes are on the ceiling and not him. “It reminded me to never get my hope ups.”

“MC…”

“You know I’ve never been close to anyone in my life. I try and try and yet…” You take a shuddering breath. “And whenever I think someone has a genuine interest in me, it turns out they just want to use me.”

Everything blurs, softened by the mess inside his head, “…There really isn’t someone?”

“No Rook. No one ever cared for me.”

And oh how his heart breaks for the hundredth time, he isn’t sure how he still has one left as he watches you stubbornly wipe the tears away. Like the words you spoke should only be objectively fact and not a blade stuck inside you since you were born. He doesn’t know what to say, or if he has a right to say anything. Your words morph in his head.

‘No one ever cared for me.’

‘You never cared for me.’

“I do.” It lays in the space between you, and he doesn’t dwell on how it sounds like a lie to you when it has never been a lie to him. “And besides, I’ve known you my whole life. Someone has to realize how fucking cool you are instead of just me, right?”

Your lips twitch. It isn’t a smile, it isn’t anywhere close but it’s enough.

“Come on, you need a distraction.” He motions towards your discarded laptop. “Come on, let’s watch a shitty movie to make fun or something.”

He stays with you, feeling it isn’t enough. When you fall asleep mid movie he carefully turns it off, only to see a notification. He doesn’t recognize the name but the message informs him this is your supposed date from earlier. Something dark cuts into him, seeing them so readily in front of him.

Instead, he shuts the computer and memorizes the name for later. Just in case.

Beck:

There’s a knock on his door, and the last thing he’s expecting is to see you. You stand there, sheepish, dressed back in your usual clothes, and your bag is on your shoulder, “Last minute, but what to study together?”

He’d seen you earlier, on your way to a date. He isn’t sure how long ago that was but based on the time he doubts you could have already been back so soon.

“Come right in.” He steps aside, keeping a careful eye on you. “Lucky for us, Rook’s out so we won’t have a lot of distractions.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind distractions,” it’s suppose to come off as casual, off handed. But he hears the hitch in your face and pieces start coming together.

He motions towards the couch, “Have a seat. Do you want anything? Rook ate us out of food, but I think I can manage to find something for us to snack on.”

“Oh, no! It’s fine.” You wave him off, but he comes back with the last surviving drinks and snacks anyway. As he spreads them out in front of you both, it’s clear you’re not in the mindset to study, let alone focus on anything.

He bumps your shoulder with his, “You’re not actually here to study, are you?”

The curtains come close on the show you’ve been putting up and your eyes moistened, “…Sorry. It’s been a rough night. I thought studying might help.”

He nods, “Maybe it could, if you were in the right mind to focus.”

“You’re not going to ask?”

“I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about it.”

You press your lips together, looking conflicted. He waits, letting you sort out whatever you need. After a moment, you finally say, “My date didn’t show, so I guess I just wanted to hang out with someone.”

“You don’t have to hide your loneliness.” A stray tear finally falls and he brushes it away without thinking.

His words, his touch, all make your breath stutter, “You’re always too nice.”

“So I’ve heard.” It’s a curse in this moment. To you, Beck is as he always is to everyone. He wonders if it’d make you feel better to know he’s here for you not because of this, but because it’s you.

His hand pulls away and you appear steadier, “So, still up for studying together?”

“Always.” And as time slips by together, it’s like you’ve forgotten what brought you here in the first place.

Rhea:

She’s always been good in an emergency. When she gets the text your back safe, there’s something in the wording that says otherwise. It’s late, she has an early morning, but she grabs a sweater and pulls it over her pjs before she heads out.

When she finds you, you haven’t even made it through your door. Your forehead rests against the wood, hand limp on the handle. There is a tremor to you, and pins and needles run down her arms.

“MC?” She calls softly, and you tense for a moment before pulling away.

You’re not crying, exactly, but it’s clear you’re upset. Your lips part but it takes a second before you can form the sound, “Rhea? Why are you here?”

“Never mind that, let’s get you inside.” There are questions in her head, but they can wait. She knows you had a date today, and she knows it must have went badly. For now, she guides you inside and makes you sit on the couch.

Listless, you sit as she goes into the small kitchen area and grabs a cup and some water. Every motion is quick and sure, only letting her thoughts focus on the tasks at hand.

As she places it in front of you, you blink, “Oh, thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about?” You pick up the water but only stare into the clear liquid. She takes a seat in the spot next to you, folding her hands in her lap. “If you just want to sleep I’ll leave you be.”

You shake your head, “There’s nothing to talk about. They were just…”

“A plebeian bastard not worth your time?” She says it with an even voice and straight face.

A sharp laugh spills from you, but you cut yourself off as it turns into water. With a hard swallow, you nod, “Yeah.”

“They’re a fool. An absolute angel appears in front of them and they decide to show they’re the devil.” She raises a hand before you can protest. “Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

“I…yeah. Thanks.” Finally, you take a sip of water and slowly tension eases out of your body. The details of exhaustion slowly start to come out, the sense of safety she brought allowing them to do so.

“You should get some sleep. I’ll check up on you tomorrow, ok?” Again, you nod and she guides you to your room. As soon as you see your bed, you collapse, not bothering to get changed or wash your face.

She leaves you after bidding goodnight and as soon as she leaves your dorm, she’s the one leaning against the door. Her eyelids flutter shut, and she takes a breath. You hadn’t even seemed surprised, that it went poorly. For you, who’d already been so much, it was probably another cut on top of thousands. The contrast from the hesitant excitement you had when you asked her to help choose an outfit to this grim acceptance made her blood boil in a way she didn’t know was possible.

It takes a moment for her to calm down, but when she does it comes with a resolution. You’d find happiness, she would make sure of it.

Zoe:

It’s late by the time they leave the tea shop. They’re brother had headed out earlier, leaving them to close up shop. As they locked the doors and pocketed the keys, they glance over at the small restaurant. It’s still lively at nine at night, and there’s a lull of music and a spilling of warm lights.

Sitting on the curb, backlight in orange hues and crumbling, is your form. It takes a moment for them to realize it’s you. You’d popped in an hour ago, and there’s no way you’re still here just sitting there unless—

They cross the distance before they realize it, “MC?”

You slowly look up at them, a tiny small on your face, “Hey Zoe. Is your shift already over?”

“Yeah, it’s late. What are you still doing here?”

They already have a feeling, but it doesn’t stop the stab in their chest as you say, “I’ve been waiting for my date. Well, I guess not waiting anymore.”

“They ghosted.” A series of choice words and curses all vie to be said and they wish this mysterious date magically appeared in front of them so they could let them have it. Instead, Zoe offers a hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?” You take their hand and it’s so cold. They can’t understand why you stayed here so long, like a lost thing hoping for someone to find them again.

Zoe inclines their head, “I just got off work and I’m hungry. We’re going to eat.”

“But…”

“Come on, it’s on me. To make up for your shitty night.” You two of you make up an odd pair, maybe. You, dressed up to the nines and still heavy emotion in your eyes, to them smelling of various herbs and a work outfit disheveled and wrinkled.

As you two grab a table, a flicker of light is back in your eyes again, and the anger inside both unspools and hardens all at the same time. They push it aside. For now, all the matters is hoping your night turns around, even a little.

Lars:

Your ‘SOS’ message probably was not meant for him. Still, he sees it and decides to play the part anyway. The address you attached to said message wasn’t far away, and he has nothing else going on during this Friday night.

When he shows up the restaurant, a faux rich overly gilded sort of place, the host informs him he needs a reservation with a cursory glance at his outfit, skewing on the more casual side of things in contrast to what everyone else is wearing.

He hardly pays the man any mind, and looks out at towards the dining area. Instantly, he sees you at the same time you see him. Your eyes go wide, darting from him to your phone to your date as you realize what you’ve done.

“My friend’s already here.” Lars says, striding towards where you sit. He stops right behind the seat of your date, and your eyes never leave him. Vaguely, he registers your date start to ask what’s wrong before cutting him off. “I’m here to pick you up.”

The date, a man Lars casts so little attention to his features are like water, jerks and spins around in his chair, “Excuse me, how are you?”

“You’re free to excuse yourself.”

“I said who the hell do you think you are—”

Lars doesn’t know the situation, besides you wanting to get out of it. For all he knows it could be because the man is irritating to a straight up bastard. He doesn’t care, as his eyes flick downwards and he feels a thrum of magic come from him.

“Bold.” Lars states, with no emotion.

Sensing his intentions, you scramble up from your chair, “Right, we should go. I’m so sorry—”

You scramble ahead, expecting he to follow. He expects to as well but the man stands and latches a hand on his shoulder. This guy has to fall into the asshole category, Lars decides, and it gives him an excuse for what he does next.

He snaps his hand up and places a grip so tight, a snap sounds at his wrist. The man sputters out a noise, a flash of magic which Lars warns off with a flash of his own. It makes the man still, knowing he isn’t the only magician here. Good.

“Two things. Don’t touch me. Don’t contact them again.” He lets go and leaves without another word or glance back.

He finds you waiting for him outside, arms wrapped around you as though to ward off anxiety.

You frown at him, “Why are you here?”

“You texted.”

“It was an accident, and besides…” He isn’t the type to do this kind of thing.

Aware this appears out of character for you, he shrugs, “Thought I’d make things worse for you as payback for you dragging me around earlier.”

“…Did you?”

He ignores the question and motions you forward, “Come on, let’s head back.”

At the very least, your shock at his arrival and his refusal to answer your pestering questions on the drive back seems to distract you. His own thoughts keep flashing back to your date. A steady thrum of annoyance worms it’s way into him and tries not to frown.

There’s no reason for him to feel it. At least, so he tells himself.

???:

“Are you there?” It’s rare for you to be the one to call out to them. So rare, they’re instantly there, their presence blanketing you like a homemade quilt. It almost immediately makes you feel a little less terrible, as you walk back towards the dorm tonight.

‘Is something the matter?’ They’re asking out of politeness. They can feel all the messy feelings swirling around in your gut.

“No—yes. My date didn’t show.” And it brought up every single childhood feeling of being nothing more then salt in the snow. Maybe it was you, because you have nothing special or unique or good about you. Maybe it was the people you choose, because all you knew was distance and always wanted to run as though you could close it by your will alone.

For once, while you sense they’re having an emotional reaction to this, you can’t feel the specifics, ‘A waste of your time, then.’

“Maybe they thought I—” You cut yourself off, curbing the mountain of negative emotions with the belated remembrance of how the Voice feeds off things like this. For how comfortable you’ve started to feel with them, it’s become harder and harder to remind yourself what they want.

Tonight though, they’re only focused on your well-being. A strange change, and one which only muddies the water more, ‘I’m not sure what they thought, little moon. But may I show you what I think of you?’

Perhaps because you feel awful or because your defenses are low when your heart is raw, you let the Voice guide you away from the dorms. With only half a mind to be wary, you let the Voice take you into the gardens and deeper still into it. At some point the yellowing color of fall gives way to a sudden glow of green and flowering plants. And it is glowing. A faint white hue emitting from the plants as you go. Even though you’ve started to get used to magic now, there’s still an awe that steals your breath.

“How do you know about this place?” There’s no answer, because of course there isn’t. Instead, as you look up and see how vines and branches wind up and encase the moon, you ask another question. “So why did you bring me here?”

‘I promised to show you what I think of you.’ A tickle in your chest is a sure indication there’s something teasing about this.

“You just did this to distract me, didn’t you?” They laugh softly but don’t refute your claim. The bruise of early is still there, but it’s easier to nurse now as you let yourself lay in the grass and look up at the stars. The Voice keeps you company as long as you need.

[testingthewatersss]

Ran Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 / 3 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI  You told him it was a bad idea. That it was going to be loud. Luckily, he has somewhere to run too.

Y/N looks up at the sound, quirking her brow as she catches Barnes peering around it’s edge. She thinks, it looks like he’s afraid of a scolding, so she’s careful to offer him a smile, as soon as he meets her eyes.

Some of the tension drops from his shoulders as he registers her expression, as he sees her, safely on the bed he shares sometimes, when he really needs to sleep.

She doesn’t say anything to beckon him further towards her, just opens her legs, keeping her knees bent, and closes her laptop, slipping it over to the far side of the mattress.

Nervously, he steps into the space, nudging the door shut behind himself, waiting for the click of the lock before he starts to pad over to the bed.

“Hey, sweetheart” her sweet voice coos, as he finally climbs up, over her comforter, to settle himself between her thighs, “You doin’ okay?”

It’s clear he’s not. But still, Y/N likes to ask, partly, Bucky assumes it's so he has to acknowledge it himself, without relying on others to tell him how he’s feeling.

He doesn’t really want to answer. He doesn’t really know, anyway.

His head falls to her shoulder, as he ignores the ache in his bent knees.

Gentle hands, that are warm, and familiar slip over his back like water, palming the taught, over worked muscles with ease, as the man they belong to settles himself in her embrace.

Y/N kisses at the top of his head, and tries to ignore the way she can feel his pulse hammering through his body. He smells like adrenaline, like fresh air and panic.

“Wanna talk about it?” she offers calmly, nodding when he instantly murmurs out a no, that is absorbed by her throat.

She assures him that that’s okay, too. That he doesn’t have to tell her a thing, that he can just be, for a while, if that’s what he wants.

It’s all I want, he decides, all I want is to stay with you, where it’s quiet.

Her legs card his body protectively, as she lets him continue to hide against her front.

His hands are in the front pocket of his hoodie. His metal fingers tugging at the flesh ones anxiously, as he fights the urge to hold on to her waist.

The way he’s breathing is shallow, it’s the raspy kind of panting that can only be conditioned by years of enforced stillness, and Y/N finds herself deepening her own inhalation, hoping he’ll adapt, and try and match her slower, more even rhythm.

He doesn’t. He can’t. Not yet.

She rubs a small circle between his shoulder blades, noting the way he’s starting to soften against her. It’s a good sign, she thinks, it means he’s letting himself relax, even a little.

“Cold?” Bucky hears her ask-

“A little” he whispers back, voice dry and cracking.

His cheeks flush red at the admission, they only continue burning when she tells FRIDAY to crank the heat up.

He’s been colder. He's just being stupid- he probably shouldn’t have come here, he scolds internally, he shouldn’t be wasting her time, ruining her day like this-

“Stop that” Y/N murmurs, lips ghosting his temple, “I can feel you being hard on yourself.”

Bucky stops breathing for a second. The quick, shallow bursts of air he’s been managing to swallow catching in his throat.

“I’m sorry” he chokes quickly, not wanting to her upset her, somehow, “I-“

“You” she interrupts sweetly, “are very tense, all of a sudden.”

He nods in agreement. He is tense. Every muscle of his body is cramping and locked in place. He tries to relax them, making a conscious effort to let his shoulders sag, even if it’s only for a moment.

“I ran” he confesses next, ashamed eyes staying closed, against her skin, “I was with the others, and I- I couldn’t take the shoutin’- I- I just ran”

That’s not a surprise. It’s game day, and most of the towers occupants had decided to go and watch the match together in the home cinema Tony had built into one of the lower suites.

They’re rowdy, at the best of times, and things had been… tense, since Barnes’ arrival.

Months had passed, by now, but the atmosphere is still malleable. It fluctuates, depending on the day, on the mood of the people within it.

Adding a competitive sport, where people supported differing teams, usually lead to boisterous play fighting, at the very least.

Y/N had declined the invitation, along with Wanda and Bruce.

“Who was winning?” she asks gently, feeling his chest gives a meagre attempt at a tremor.

"No idea" Bucky murmurs with a weak attempt at a shrug, “Everyone was yellin’, doll”

She nods, and pulls him a little closer towards her front.

“They do that” she says, “I warned ya’, I said it might get a little loud in there-”

I told you so, isn’t what Y/N is trying to say, not exactly, but, it doesn’t change the fact that she had. She had warned him that going down with Steve might not be the best idea, not when he hasn’t been sleeping, not when the seasons are changing to winter, and he can barely get through the day without disappearing for hours at time.

She’d offered to join him in the end, hoping that she might keep an eye on things, step in if he needed an escape. Compromise, sweetened with a lovely smile. But he’d declined, with a chaste kiss against her lips, and a beer in his hand, and told her to go and get some work done without him bothering her for once.

"You never bother me, sweetheart", she’d told him honestly, palm stroking his cheek, "I promise, but go, have fun with Steve, and remember where I am, if you want me for somethin’"

His head shakes the memory away. He feels his metal fingers digging into the bed of his flesh thumb until it starts to sting.

Stupid, he scolds silently, gritting his teeth against the tension of his tight metal fist, It was stupid to let Sam talk me into it.

“Doesn’t matter anyway” Y/N soothes, “nobodies yellin’ here”

No, he thinks, please don’t yell at me.

He couldn’t take that, Y/N is safe, she’s gentle, and kind, and she loves him, even if he doubts she could possibly love him as much as he loves her, he believes her when she tells him that she cares, and she tells him all the time-

“I love you” she whispers, as if on cue, “You’re okay, nothin’ bad’s comin’”

Bucky knows he’s starting to shiver, now, he can feel the way his body is trembling against the steady surface of hers.

He makes a poor attempt at stilling it as he nods, stubble grazing her shoulder.

Nothing bad’s coming, he repeats to himself, desperate to believe it.

“We should let Steve know you’re with me” Y/N suggests gently, “Don’t want him turnin’ round and you havin’ vanished-”

“He saw me go” Bucky tells her, voice still awfully low, “I ran- I- I just bolted, Y/N/N-I-”

“That’s fine” she’s quick to assure him, “As long as he knows you’re okay, you know how he worries-”

“I’m not” he murmurs, the tragic admission slipping past his lips before he could swallow it down, “I- I- I ran, like- like a fuckin’ animal I-“

“You” Y/N cuts in again, “are being too hard on yourself, as usual.”

Her hand sweep down his spine, making his back arch in response to the gentle trail of heat.

“I-“ he tries to insist, “I-"

He lets himself fall silent, not knowing how to express the intense well of self-loathing that’s heavy in his chest.

It’s been a fixture of his being for so long, now, along with guilt and bitter, un-relenting fear that he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be completely without it.

This newer, shame driven anger is still jarring, though.

He’d run away like a child, he’d slammed the door so hard it had cracked down the centre, and despite the way he’s safe, now, with no one shouting anywhere he can hear, he still can’t make himself settle, he still doesn’t trust that nobodies going to burst into the room, and tear him away by his hair, to bark orders in his face, and torture him some how.

That thought makes his fingers knot together again. He tries to breath, to remind himself that he’s not there anymore, that he’s somewhere where he’s allowed to run away, now.

Y/N feels his back heave, she feels him steady it, bracing himself to either defend against a blow that is never going to come, or to stop himself from crying.

She sighs gently, reaching up to stroke the long, tangles of hair that are sitting heavy and sweat dampened at the base of his neck.

He tenses at the contact, still expecting something crueller.

“It’s just me, Buck” Y/N reminds him quietly, trailing her fingers through the mess of brown, “Here, just me, see?”

She can feel his muscles twitching again, so when he relents to her suggestion, and starts to sit back on his haunches, eyes wide as he stares at her face, she can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek-

His head snaps sidewards in a frantic bid to protect his face.

Her heart strings tighten as she realises that he’s expecting a slap.

Bucky feels his blood thrumming through his veins, his arm whines pitifully, and his eyes stay screwed shut, even as he starts panting a little more heavily.

“Oh, Sweetheart… no…”

His heart only speeds up at the prospect of being chastised, some how.

But then, he feels the warmth of her palm on his cheek- he flinches, not able to stop the reflex.

Y/N just hushes him, a slow, easy breath melting in the air between them as her fingers ghost his cheek.

He looks terrible, really, the hollows under his eyes are dark, and there’s a graze above his brow from training that morning, she knows his flesh knuckles are still bruised, too- even if he’s hiding them in his pocket. His chapped lips look sore, and his jaw is locked, the muscle bulging under her thumb, as she sweeps it across the skin.

“That’s it” she praises lightly, seeing him relenting to the kindness of the interaction, “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

Bucky lets himself hum, enjoying the affection he’s being treated too.

He’s like a cornered stray, Y/N thinks, like any wrong move might cause him to bolt.

Except he's already bolted. He ran away, and kept running until he'd found her.

She keeps her tone soft, and her movements slow, as she reaches over to his neck with her other hand.

He doesn’t recoil, this time, but she can’t quite tell if that’s because he’s calming down, or if it’s because he’s scared to risk the movement.

“I know” she murmurs sweetly, “I know you like that, it’s alright”

Her thumb and forefinger have slipped up to stroke the marred skin behind his ear. There’s a deep, old, scar there, and he’s told her before, about how much he likes it when she soothes it for him.

It’s endearing, really.

The way his eyes flutter open, nervous and muddled before recognition and affection fill them.

Y/N beams at him, nodding encouragingly as he leans back into her touch, exposing his throat for her.

“Come on now, sweetheart” she purrs, “No more shoutin’- I promise”

Bucky offers her a jerky nod, as he sniffs in through his nose.

“I- I love you” he murmurs, because it’s true, and he feels like he should tell her, “I- I’m just… I-“

“I know” she tells him calmly, “It’s alright, you’re exhausted”

“I’m scared, doll” he alters anxiously, “when… When I- When I was there… it felt like everyone was always shoutin’ at me…”

Y/N doesn’t stop him, even though he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it earlier, she just continues the way she’s stroking his face, letting him collect his thoughts the best he can.

“I-I don’t remember a time when someone spoke, to me, like- like a person… it- It was always, someone yellin’, givin’ me my orders, or- or tellin’ me where to go. They’d talk about me, with each other sometimes, but…”

He quiets for a moment, shaking his head a fraction, nuzzling into her wrist.

“Sometimes when it’s quiet I hear screamin’ in my head…” he confesses, “… sometimes it’s my own, from… from when they’d…”

Y/N hears the crack in his voice, it makes tears sting behind her eyes- she brings her fingers up, over his lips to quiet him.

He kisses at her skin, before sighing sadly.

“Sometimes it’s… sometimes it’s the people I killed- I- I hear them cryin’ out- beggin’ me to stop-“

Her head tilts, she drops her palm back to his jaw, to let him continue, since it seems like he wants to keep speaking, and she has no intention of discouraging his openness.

“I think… sometimes, it’s the officers too” he continues sadly, “I- I hear them shoutin’ orders at me, givin’ me my missions or- or just… fuckin’ screamin’ at me…”

It’s clear he’s slipping, now. His head shakes a fraction, as though that might clear what ever memories he’s uncovered with his admission.

She stills him with her hand, before leaning in and pressing a gentle, careful kiss against his lips.

Bucky feels his chest relax as soon as his mouth meets hers. He exhales long and slow, and relishes in the sweetness of the affection he’s receiving, in the feeling of the woman he loves stroking his jaw as she settles his nerves with a kiss.

By the time he lets Y/N pull away, he’s back to shivering. He’s drained, and clearly embarrassed by the weakness he’s displaying.

but none of that seems to matter, not with the way the woman he loves is watching him, with her warm eyes shining with affection.

He’s exposed like a nerve under her consideration, but as always, her attention only serves to make him feel delicate… to make him feel small and vulnerable.

Those are qualities that HYDRA have spent the better part of a century ripping away from him, piece by piece.

He shudders, when her hands fall away.

“C’mon, handsome” Y/N coos, reluctantly slipping away, back towards the mound of pillows behind her, “Lie down with me?”

The lilt in her velvet tone reminds him that it’s not a command. That she would never command him to do anything, not even something as lovely as laying down between her legs.

He slips into position easily, head settling against her upper thigh, in the bend where it joins her torso.

Y/N smiles approvingly, reaching down to touch his cheeks again, knowing how much he relishes in the luxury of touch.

Because it is a luxury to Bucky, especially now, after… everything.

The trembling of his muscles only intensifies now that his posture is leaning more, and more towards relaxed. His own legs are still bent, but his upper body is pliant, and heavy against his lover, his head lolling over to her fingers.

The air is thick between them, the heating was on before Y/N asked for it to be intensified, and now, the warmth in the room is palpable.

He likes it, he likes how it reminds him that he’s not outside in some god-awful blizzard.

Y/N is still tracing the edges of his face with her fingers, caressing every dip and curve with total adoration, and he can feel the tenderness in the action.

“You’ve got to take it easy, Bucky” She murmurs, thumb finding the graze above his eye, again, “Let yourself rest up a little”

I don’t know how, he thinks sadly, not able to bring himself to say so, out-loud, feeling that that might be one tragic confession too many.

“I know it’s difficult” her soft voice promises, “I know it doesn’t feel right, sweetheart, I know you want to keep movin’, but you’re human, serum or not- and you have to let yourself get better”

“I want to be better” he murmurs, turning over a little to stare up at her face.

He swallows, suddenly feeling very unworthy of the sight.

Y/N is beautiful, truly beautiful, Bucky has always known that, he’s always marvelled at her ability to be so effortlessly lovely-

Blush creeps up his neck when he catches himself staring, lips parted, like some kind of love-struck teenager.

He decides that he’s been far worse than that, before. So, he just blinks, and continues his internal monologue about how not only is the woman he’s lying on attractive, but also, unwaveringly kind.

He’s considering descriptors like etherial, and angelic, when she realises his eyes have fallen shut.

They open with a start, and he sucks in a frantic breath, afraid of how easily he’d slipped into a state of near unconsciousness.

Y/N shakes her head, hushing him again, as she brings her palm back to cup his cheek.

“See? that was good” she says, “You were relaxin’, what were you thinkin’ about?”

“You” Bucky croaks, adrenaline spiking, again, “I- I was thinkin’ about you, doll”

The laugh she gives him is gentle, it’s quiet and sweet.

He loves it.

He loves her.

“Only good things I hope” she teases, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, “I’d hate for you to be reliving that time that I broke your coffee mug, or somethin’”

Bucky scoffs softly, offering her a small lopsided smile.

“As traumatising as that was” he murmurs, “I think I’ve recovered”

Y/N chuckles again, and the upward curl of Bucky’s lips seems to be a good deal more genuine.

“I’m glad” she coos, “because I’m kinda, totally in love with you, Barnes, and I’d be pretty torn up about you bein’ hurt by somethin’ I’ve done”

“You’ve never hurt me” Bucky bursts quickly, eyes widening a little, “I- I was thinkin’ about how lucky I am, doll- about how beautiful you are- how- how you’re too good for me-”

“I’m not too good for you” she replies calmly, “and, I think you’re beautiful too, for what that’s worth”

His nose screws up a little at comments, Y/N thinks it’s more than a little bit cute.

“and you’re lovely” she drawls, taking the opportunity to shower him in kind words, “and funny, Buck- and brave, and strong and-”

“Stop?” he objects softly, still not feeling comfortable saying something that close to a command, even as a joke, “Please, Y/N/N- I’m… I’m not all that- I’m a damn mess”

Her head shakes, but he ignores the motion

“I’m a grown man who can’t even be in the same room as his friends watchin’ a football game” he continues sadly, “I’ve killed people, good people… I’m torn up- and I- I- ”

Frustration and pure, unbridled self-hatred making his throat tighten, making the words sound almost like sobs.

Her hand strokes his brow, gentle and loving.

“You’re perfect” she soothes, seeing his teeth tugging at his lower lip, “You’re perfect for me, alright? I love you, all of you”

“you dont understand” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say, “I did things-“

“Bucky” Y/N says, capturing his attention, “none of it, was your fault-you were drafted, and after that, all you did was your best.”

“I wanted to help” he says quietly, almost like he's remembering, “I… I never wanted to hurt anyone”

“I know that" she promises, “and you did, you did help, you helped Steve, you helped save all those people-”

“and then I fell” Barnes hears himself whisper, more to himself than to the lovely woman still stroking his cheek.

“and then you fell” Y/N confirms, “and nothing that happened after that, was anything to do with you.”

“It feels like it was” Bucky admits after a harsh swallow, “It feels like all of it was because of me”

He watches her head shake, brown curls cascading down her chest as she stills herself again.

“You’re a good person” she reminds him, “That some very bad things have happened too, but none of those things, make you any less good.”

After a beat of silence Bucky sighs.

“God," “I’m sorry, Y/N/N- I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you-”

She shouldn't have to spend her afternoons snappin' me out of nightmares from a lifetime ago, I couldn't even make it through a game-

“On me?” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head, “Bucky- you don’t put enough on me, you’ve gotta let me help you, at least until you’re feelin’ better”

He blinks, not understanding.

She thinks the blatant confusion on his face is utterly endearing.

“Love,” she says, “You never stop, you're constantly in fight or flight, it's no wonder your adrenalines shot. You haven't had nearly enough time to adjust - to any of this - if you need some peace and quiet then all you have to do is take it"

“Yes, ma’am” he murmurs with a gentle edge of apology in his voice.

Y/N beams at him, and places a kiss against the back of his hand, letting her lips linger against the calloused skin before she lowers their tangled fingers to her lap, by the side of his face.

It's quiet. It's warm, and he's totally in love. It doesn't take him long to pass out at all.

x | 2 | 3

[make-your-own-evil]

Hi I'm new to ur blog and I was wondering if I could have btas dork squad (aka Scarecrow, Riddler, and mad Hatter) with a s/o who has a special pocket watch that allows them to travel to different dimensions at different time periods? And the funny part of that every time they come back home their wearing new clothes from said time period and holding a gift basket full of their dorks favorite items or things s/o thinks they would like? Fem or gender neutral ❤❤

❤ anon

this is such a cool ask??? i have never written anything like this before so i am excited to challenge myself, but im also nervous to see how it turns out! i think ill do a fem reader since ive done gn for the past few asks (im assuming you want headcanons btw)

note: feel free to reblog! just give credit when necessary :)

(ps i ADORE reading tags, comments, reblogs 🥰)

BTAS! Dork Squad x TimeTraveler!Fem!Reader

Mad Hatter:

he is your number one fan! he thinks you and your fancy, time-traveling pocket watch are truly the bees knees. you constantly keep him in awe

begs you to take him with you :( if youre only able to travel by yourself then he waits patiently for you to get back

travel to the mid to late 1800's England! in the times of lewis carroll, victorian tea parties, fancy attire 😍

you reappear in his hideout, not wearing the clothes you left in, but a beautiful blue day dress with silky fabrics! his face is beet-red and surely there would be smoke coming from under his hat if it were possible!

not only are you dressed head to toe as a noble lady for a tea party for two, but you also brought him gifts?

oh be still his beating heart! when you thought it would be impossible for him to smile any wider, he did! bring him old books, (technically) new clothes, trinkets, hats and new tea sets!

no matter which time period you travel to, he sits you down and asks you a million questions and begs you to tell him everything!

stares at you in awe and wonder while holding your gloved hands as he hangs onto your every word

looks like this the whole time :O

Scarecrow:

BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH BLACK DEATH >:)

do you really want to tickle the spooky mans fancy? travel anywhere from 1347-1351 in Europe.

he is fascinated by your pocket watch and demands to know how it works

as a demonstration, you disappear from his lab and suddenly reappear later wearing a red stitched gown that looks more like a long tunic. a white cloth veil covers your hair

he has his clipboard in hand

if he wasnt fully convinced of your time traveling device, you decide to bring him some gifts!

PLAGUE DOCTOR TOOLS!

in your little medieval basket you have a mask, blades, gloves and even a jar of leeches!

proposes that you join forces! he doesnt know how you could help him exactly but your little pocket watch is pretty nifty

he asks you to go to more time periods and bring him back things for his "experiements"

YES theyre for his experiments and totally not for self indulgent purposes >:(

Riddler:

future babeyyy

do you want to truly impress him? bring him back some pieces of tech that he can tinker with!

he doesnt believe you at first when you try to tell him about the pocket watch

once you disappear and reappear with goodies, now hes invested!

you show up wearing a green and black body suit in fabrics he has never seen before!

you bring back a phone that uses a 7G network system, newspapers with major events, a laptop with a 2 petabytes of storage that is no thicker than a half inch, books and movies that havent even been released yet and more!

he asks you VERY technical questions that you probaly dont have the answers to

have you met your past/future self? how does your watch work?isnt this going to destroy the space-time continuum? what if you die while traveling?

like scarecrow, he is probably going to make you go off and scavenge for things he would find useful

i am 100% confident that this riddler could reverse engineer just about anything. with your powers combined, nothing stands in your way

[alexanderlightweight]

Alec, as the heir to a throne, must be married. Let’s say there’s no homophobia in this world. Cue a tournament for his hand. He’s absolutely beside himself with rage.

Tournament happens, Jace is trying to win, not for Alec’s hand per se, but kinda as a “I got your back bro” thing. So last 3 are Magnus, Jace, and a stranger. Magnus takes out Jace. And after a long battle and stilted convo of Magnus having to prove he’s been in love with Alec the whole time, Alec removes the mask he’d been wearing/drops his glamour.

I really just want that win the hand/dramatic reveal trope where Alec wins his own fate and the love at the same time.

I am finally finished and Anon, I asssure you it was circumstances that led this to be answered so late. I absolutely loved the concept but I got mad that I didn’t have my laptop and refused to work on it because of that. which is ironic because I ran out of spoons after I finally slept and I finished writing this on my phone after all.

—

Alec watches with detached interest as Magnus defeats Jace.

His brother in arms is furious and seething and spitting blood; but Alec never once asked him to.

Alec finds he has no pity for Jace, not when he’s drawing his visor down and stepping out of the cool halls where each contestant stays.

And then Magnus is finally matching blades against him, brown eyes flaring gold as he tries to keep his magic constrained.

After all, this is a moderated duel.

And Alec snarls as he digs in his heels and takes blows he could redirect because he never wants to risk hurting Magnus.

This isn’t about hurting Magnus, even if Alec refuses to surrender.

They trade blows until Alec lets a hit get him, just so he can trip Magnus without hurting him, and the blow strikes true.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks, softly and almost unsure in the sudden and eerie silence. And Alec coughs out what feels like a lung full of blood as he recenters.

“So what if I am?” He asks Magnus, exhausted and furious with the position he finds himself in. “No one’s bothered asking me what I want. So what does it matter if I’m deciding who I want as well?”

And Magnus, his eyes flare brighter but he stands down. His sword point digs into the sand and he kneels, hand on the pommel as he stares at Alec.

“I never sought to coerce or claim what wasn’t mine. If you decide to pick me, if I am worthy in your eyes, then I am here. And I will fight for you; for whatever choice you make. Even if it isn’t me.”

And Alec can feel the sincerity and he knows that Magnus means what he says. It’s a heady thrill and Alec nearly stumbles as he discards his own sword. It’s a heavy and distracting weight that he doesn’t need as he falls to his own knees and reaches out, cupping Magnus’ face.

“You’re the only one I would choose. The only being that I could pick and be true to myself, but I never wanted to be fought for.” Alec tells him softly, “I will always be willing to surrender myself, for you. As long as it is a choice I’m allowed to make.”

And Magnus pulls him even closer and Alec inhales the sweat and dust and blood and relaxes further.

“I will endeavor to always be your safe haven.” Magnus promises him, and his arms are strong bands that protect Alec, rather than entrap him.

[lazypanartist]

Tye Longshadow x Artist! Reader HCs

BRAINROT

Was doodling on myself and this popped into my head. Please, take it.

Notes: I know YJ isn't Earth 27, but the only theorized birthday I could get for him was Sept. 7. It'll be relevant later (look for aster and sapphire; the birth flower and gem!)

-----

To preface this Mess™, you were another of the Runaways

The group was already incredibly close because of the shared trauma, even if everyone showed their emotions differently

Some of you just happened to get closer than others

Powers or no; you had a metagene

And Tye'd be damned if the Reach got their hands on you again

He carried you from place to place, astral form or no. He just wanted to make sure you stayed safe

Now that that's out of the way

You guys have quite a bit of downtime

All you really do is run errands for Luthor and destroy Reach property n adverts 🤷🏽

So wherever you're at, there's a lot of free time

Ofc you and your boyfriend want to spend as much time together as possible

Even if you're both just doing your own thing next to each other

He likes watching you draw

Sometimes he asks you to draw on him

And SOMETIMES that leads to 'projects' like this..

---

Tye mumbled beneath you, tensing slightly as your pan ran over his spine. You ignored the movement, staying focused on the task at hand.

You sat on your heels at his tailbone, one leg on each side of his torso. Two reference pictures were pulled up on the shared laptop, sat next to his head; an aster (almost a blue-purple daisy) and a faceted sapphire crystal.

He sighed softly as you repeated the motion, running over the facets of the sapphire in the middle of the flower's petals. Running the pen back and forth, you darkened the faces of the crystal where it would be sat into the aster.

Running a hand down his shoulder blade, you smiled as he relaxed with your touch; practically melting into the bed beneath him as you continued your linework with the distraction. Tapping your fingers against his ribs, you ran the pen over the same area on the other side of his back, laying your palm flat and almost petting his side when he tensed again.

The only sounds in the room were those you two made; his gentle sighs and mumbling, your fingers against his back, and your combined breathing were the only noises filling the small space between you two.

It was nice like this. Calm.

And really, what more could you ask for?

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades

Not Natural ��� The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: Supernatural inspired, ABO (knots, slick, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, case talks, mentions of death, mentions of brutal murder, talks about their pasts, drug use, drinking, PTSD, one quick mention of animal abuse (Dom saw a frog killed as a boy), mentions of being drugged and attempted date rape, implications of being a prostitute, a small fight between them, teasing, emotions, feels, fingering, almost blowjob, interrupted sex, graphic descriptions of them getting attacked, monster fight, blood, magic, healing, thinking the other is dead, fear, almost love confessions, secrets ⚰️ rating: explicit

They didn't talk about the new lines they crossed in bed together and they definitely didn't talk about the way Dom was mostly healed by the time he woke up. The human wrote it off to the wounds not being as bad as he thought they would be and the demon told himself it was a magical fluke. Darkness didn't heal and that was all that he was made up of. He refused to think anything else. Maybe it was the blood he kept sharing with his lover- demon blood made a human strong and resilient. That's all it was, the Hunter kept drinking from him and complaining about it later. He'd lament he was being roofied but the moment he saw red on Kells he licked his lips.

The kid went right back to his job after he woke, researching into the early hours and only taking breaks for food or a few quick and dirty make out sessions. The room was thick with smoke from his cigarettes and the beast's pot by the time the sun rose. The scent of coffee, smoke, cheap booze, and old sex was stuck to their skin. Kells was exhausted just watching his lover but he wasn't the best at helping. He knew he could find out what and where the monster was in two seconds flat but he didn't want Dominic running off and facing someone that powerful with one of his many pig stickers.

"Tha's fucking it. I can't even see straight anymore." The boy grumbled as he shut his laptop and laid his head on the perpetually sticky table. "I can't find any'fin tha' fits. No 'ex bags, no sulphur, no nuffin." He whined. "A god maybe?"

Kells stood from his spot sprawled out on the bed and walked behind his boy. His long fingers found their way to Dom's tense shoulders and he tried to massage the decade old knots out. His lip rolled between his teeth, his mind tripping over itself to think of literally anything that might make him cut the trip short and move on but he knew better. He wouldn't leave when there were humans in danger. "Any link between the vics?" He tried to stall, his gaze flicking to the bed as he wondered if he could use sex to distract.

"Teen boys. Pretty. Not really any'fin else. 'Onestly I took it cause I fhought it might be…" He trailed off and shrugged, tapping his forehead against the table. Kells cringed but he tried not to control the kid out of bed. If he wanted to catch something from the furniture that was his choice.

"He doesn't normally kill them so bloody. He tries to make a deal." The demon sighed, rubbing his thumbs deeper into the rock hard muscles under his touch. The punk shuddered, whether from memory or the massage he wasn't sure but it made him ease up just in case.

"Exactly. So why… Fuck, it's disgusting Kells. I saw the last kill. I remember seeing a boy shove firecrackers into a frog once… it reminded me of tha'. No piece is distinguishable as a person."

The monster wished he could say that sounded like hell but he'd spent so much time there that he knew you could find so much worse. "Dude sounds like a psycho." He hummed instead and his bitch chuckled dryly.

"Yeah. He was in prison last I 'eard but tha's from another life." Dom sighed, pushing up and out of his seat and away from the demon's touch. He wandered off to pick through his clothes, his boxer's wet. Even the chair had freshly spilled slick and the scent almost brought Kells to his knees. He'd just mentally made fun of the boy for touching the furniture though, he would not bury his face against the cushion when he had Dom's pussy so close.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the omega. He knew Dom was just trying to escape the conversation and his past but Kells had found something to distract them from the hunt at hand and sometimes he could be like a hellhound with a femur. Persistent as fuck. "You don't really talk about England."

"God save the queen, keep calm, carry on, bangers and mash and all tha'. Better? I talked about it." Dom's accent got thicker as he mocked his homeland but it was all real and something about it drove the beast a little insane. "You wanna talk about your past? Yeah, didn't fink so."

Kells rolled his eyes and took a seat on the mattress. He was still naked, he didn't see a reason to dress unless they were going out and it kept the boy's eyes on him. Parts of him. "I've lost count of all the bad shit I've done. I've lived all over, done every drug imaginable and some I made up. Ya know, I discovered weed." He smirked and Dom scoffed. He honestly wasn't even sure if that was true, he'd lived too long but it was a damn good story either way. "I've killed more than I saved, I've never hurt an animal like that fucker though. I think animals were where the fucker up there went right. I don't- I don't know my mom. My dad's a fucking asshole. Was- I mean. I didn't back Lucifer which kind of got me blackballed. Uhhh… I might like a human a little too much for the first time ever."

"Tha's not your past dumbarse." Dom huffed, twisting the shirt he was holding between his fingers. His belly flipped, his nerves were a little too shot to play that game. The beast was teasing him. He had to be.

"Are you fucking kidding me dude?" He tried to keep his voice level but it dropped a little, he didn't want to fight. He wasn't supposed to care about the boy's life but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know him better than anyone else ever had.

"Me parents fought. I wanted out. A pretty boy seduced me and told me he'd take care of it for a price. I got 'ung up in the wrong bloody crowd and I ran Kells. He killed em all jus' to try and get me back. He said it was a gift. A gift. Me family is dead and I've got a fucking womb because I looked at the wrong boy. Cause I was… fuck if I know. I didn't say yes but he claimed me anyway! It's been ten years. Do you 'ave any idea 'ow-" His voice was going high and breathy and before he could finish his rant the demon was holding him, pressing his face into his inked chest to breathe his scent deep. "He wants me soul Kells. He-"

"No. You didn't make a deal. Astaroth is a psychopath but you didn't say yes. He has no right to your soul. Killing your family was the bastard's idea of flowers. He probably thought it was romantic. He doesn't want your soul baby. If he did he wouldn't have cursed you. Besides he's not a fucking crossroads demon." Keliphos tried to soothe as he pressed kisses to Dom's hair and rubbed up and down his back. He had wanted the kid to open up but he hadn't meant for it to open Pandora's box. His lover held the world's sorrows and it broke his heart. Well… it would if he thought he had one.

"Wha' you mean? Wha' does he want?" Dom whimpered, his voice as pitiful as any young pup.

Kells swallowed hard, his eyes closing as he swayed them gently. He wasn't exactly trying to rock his bitch but maybe. Anything to comfort him. "Astaroth… he's real fucking old. Like… one of the originals kind of old. Like… He was something else before he was a demon but no one knows exactly what. Not human. Some think he was an angel that followed Luce down. He doesn't care about much but he's spent his existence trying to make more of what he is. He can never get the pairing quite right. He must have thought you weren't just human." The beast sighed. He was terrified to say so much, demons didn't spill other demons secrets. If they did then everyone would fuck each other over but he didn't like Dom being so terrified. So confused.

"Well tha's bloody stupid. Course I'm 'uman. Wha' else would I be?" Dom sniffled but with every breath in he could scent the man holding him and it soothed the fear. Fuck he needed some distance from the demon before he got too close. Too reliant on him. That was dangerous for them both. Everyone Dom got close to died.

"Hey, I'm okay. Don't worry about me." The devil accidentally let slip but the boy was too worked up to notice. Thank fuck. "I don't know what you could be. Maybe you are just human but that's not what matters. What matters is that he's out there and obsessed with you. We'll kill him though. There isn't some ten year contract on your life coming up, he doesn't make those so please stop worrying. But he is out there."

Dom huffed, leaning back enough he could look up at his lover. Those blue eyes were surprisingly kind and he knew he could easily be fooled by them. Kells didn't want him like that, they were just having fun while they hunted. That was all. "I ain't seen 'im in years. I want revenge for me sisters but… I don't fink he cares about me anymore. Too old." The human shrugged and Kells had to bite his cheek not to let slip that he talked to the fucker the first night they made love. Fucked around. Damnit.

"He still wants you. Trust me. He doesn't let people escape so the fact that you did? Yeah… he wants you. Plus… he never got you right?" His voice dropped to almost a whisper. He was scared to ask but Dom was so obviously a virgin their first night. He just wanted to make sure the monster hadn't done something else.

"No. God Kells- never. He tried. He tried real 'ard. Even drugged me but I went 'ome. Woke up wiv a cunt and a dead family. Me friend got me out and got me 'ere. I guess it must've looked… bad for me. No…" He sighed and watched as he traced tattoos on the demon's chest. "You me first. Only. Messed around wiv a few people once I got 'ere. 'Ad to make money some'ow but no… no actual sex. Before you." He was almost annoyed at the way his stomach buzzed at the thought, at the way his thighs felt wet, and his lips tugged into a smile. He shouldn't let anyone effect him so much.

Kells stepped back, his gaze snapping away from the beautiful boy in front of him. Nerves got the better of him. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face. He didn't mean to stop soothing his- the omega but those words made him anxious. "We didn't have sex. We haven't had- I haven't fucked you yet. Believe me you'd know."

Jade eyes rolled and Dom almost laughed. Almost. "I fink me pussy would beg to differ Kells. Maybe we ain't gone at it like rabbits or nuffin yet but…" He trailed off, stepping closer to his demon lover because Kells was that. His lover.

"We've talked about this. Personal space Dom."

"You the one who crowded me. I'm jus' returning the favor." The boy purred as he wrapped his hand around the demon's and led his touch between his legs. His gentle grip directed Kells to slide his boxers over and bend his fingers before he pushed two between his surprisingly wet folds. "You the only one to ever be inside me. Don't you feel it? You put your cock right 'ere. Right inside me tight, wet, warm pussy. Few inches still counts luv, tha's all some men 'ave. But you been blessed ain't yas? Big boy."

The beast swallowed fast and hard, trying to push the lump in his throat down. He wasn't sure how he lost control of the situation so badly but had to bite his tongue not to stop it in a mean way. He almost asked if this was the whore side of him but he knew Dom was being genuine. That's why it was working on him. It felt innocent and seductive at the same time. "I haven't fucked you yet." He tried again but Dom just smiled.

"Tha's strange tha' cause I seem to remember your cum spilling outta me all night."

"Doesn't count. Was just trying to soothe your heat." He whimpered back, his knees threatening to buckle.

"Me 'eat?"

"Yeah. The way you felt. Feel- I guess. You're in heat. Happens with omegas. It's safe though cause I'm not really an alpha." Kells shrugged and Dom sighed, letting go of his hand but he couldn't stop touching. The kid was right, he was warm and tight and so fucking wet.

"Oh. Sweet of yas. Definitely weren't for you at all right? Like you ain't 'ard for me now? I shouldn't jus'-" The kid teased, pulling the demon's touch free and making him growl. He dropped to his knees and smirked up at him as he leaned forward and licked playfully over the tip of his cock. Shit. Kells hadn't realized how hard he was. He'd been so focused on his lover but now the strain was all he could feel.

"Fuck yes- please?" He rasped, his voice dropping to gravel as his pussy wet fingers tangled in Dom's messy hair.

Dom smirked and nodded, he wasn't ashamed to admit he'd been desperate to try this but the moment he pressed forward again and let his eyes close so he could savor the taste of his beast the devil disappeared.

"I felt a Hunter after me and I thought to explain myself but to find you fornicating with a demon? They're no better than the beasts of the land." A stern male voice sounded from behind him and his eyes flew open as he threw his body into a drop and roll, searching out the blade stashed under his bed.

Dom could take in a few things with his adrenaline kicked into overdrive. His senses were certainly stronger with his lover's blood pumping fast through his veins. There was a strange being in their room- a young man it seemed, dressed in a gray blue suit speckled with blood. The creature- whatever it was- had enough power to get passed their wards, go undetected by them both, and summon a strong demon to his hands. The wanker had his lover by the neck and Kells looked frozen. Hopefully not passed out or dead. Dom couldn't think like that.

His fingers closed around his blade and he jumped to his feet, keeping a good distance between them but obviously the fucker didn't need to move to hurt them. "Astaroth?" He asked, the form matched his normal meatsuit and the magic level seemed right but it seemed incredibly offended by the name.

"Do I look like a demon? Do you know where Astaroth is?" It hissed and Dom shrugged.

"Well, ya got blood on ya nice suit and you wearing a 'uman so… yeah a bit. Put Kells down and we can talk." He teased the beast, he couldn't help it. He always had a sharp tongue when hunting and it often got him in more trouble but he couldn't seem to help it. He tended to blame it on his ADHD but the truth was that he was a smart ass and loved it. Sometimes it threw them off kilter that he wasn't scared but this one didn't seem to care. When it gripped his lover tighter he did the same with his knife and wondered if he could throw it before the fucker killed Kells.

"No. I came to talk to you. I've heard you're a good boy. I wanted to explain that I was hunting the same thing as you. You shouldn't get mixed up with demons. Let me help." It's voice held a hint of madness that made Dom's insides cringe. Monster was one thing, crazy monster could prove almost impossible. He wouldn't let someone else he cared about be taken from him.

When he caught sight of it's nails digging into his demon's throat he jumped forward, his heart racing in his chest. The more blood that spilled the more nauseous he felt. He didn't mean to but he kept praying for Kells to wake up. Wake up and fight. Wake the fuck up! "Wait! Let's talk yeah? Fank you for caring but… let me 'elp you kill 'im. You right. He seduced me. Right monster he is. I should be the one to do it!" He tried to keep his voice level as he attempted to lie to the newcomer but he was sure he was filled with fear. "Please, you saved me. Tell me ya name?"

The wild eyes of the intruder locked on his as he stepped closer and it's head jerked as if it were trying to nod. "Raziel. I've been after Astaroth for centuries but he only surfaces long enough to steal a few boys before he takes them to hell. I followed his stench here but I find only this beast. I am happy to save you from the fate of my brother."

Dom took a deep shuddering breath. Raziel was an angel name. They didn't have many on earth since the new ruler stepped up but he wasn't surprised there were a few stragglers. A mad angel? Why was an angel mixed up in all that? "Oh? Your brother? Wha' 'appened?" His gaze flicked between the crazy winged wanker and his still unconscious lover. He was hoping it was a tactic but he knew better. Kells had a buzz about him like the air after a lightning strike and he couldn't feel it anymore.

"He… well… he. It's not my story to tell but he too was seduced by darkness. Astaroth. He used my brother and left him broken. Ramiel left heaven with the traitor and never returned. I believe him dead." There was true pain in the angel's blue eyes and Dom almost hurt for him. If the fucker had just come to him calmly he might have welcomed the help. As it was he was wondering if he could stab him but he didn't have an angel blade. Fuck. "Why does it feel like Astaroth?" He spat, his fingers digging deeper into the demon's throat. Before long he would rip part of it out whether he meant to or not and Dom couldn't allow that. Raziel shook Kells hard and the Hunter had to act. He had to do something to save him.

"I don't know! They're both demons. Strong! Please! Drop 'im? I want to kill it me'self."

Raziel seemed to think about that before he nodded and threw the limp devil on the bed. Dom's heart dropped. He was more terrified than he cared to admit. His lover already looked dead but he had to believe he wasn't. He had to. How had the angel knocked him out? Raziel grumbled at the blood on his hand and he seemed to be unnerved by it. The human picked up a towel from the floor and tossed it to him before he turned to the bed and prone beast, walking close and crawling on top of him.

"Here boy." The feathery fuck offered, throwing him a blade he hadn't seen before. He was tempted to turn and stab the stranger just to test if it would work on him but he knew the angel was mental and close to killing him anyway so instead he took it and tried to act grateful.

"'Ow bloody dare you come 'ere and seduce me. You tried to give me blood and- and you tried to fuck me. You jus' wanted me 'eart didn't you? 'Ow dare you!" Dom sniffled as he rambled off half true feelings. He wanted to buy a moment as he worked. He only knew one other thing that worked on Raziel's kind and he had to work fast, he was just terrified Kells would get hurt in the process. He sliced a cut in his arm where the angel couldn't see and he started drawing on his lover's chest. To keep the lie going with his other hand he held the blade over the demon's heart and he prayed it was still beating for him. The bastard had to live. He needed him.

"Fuck you and your blue eyes and monster cock and- and ya every'fin. You shouldn't 'ave come 'ere Kells! Look wha' 'appened! 'Ow dare you make me love you!" His voice broke when he accidentally let that slip out. He heard the angel mutter something and step closer but it didn't matter. The banishing symbol was complete and stood out on the beast's inked skin. Dom sliced his palm as Raziel came up behind him and he closed his eyes tight as he slammed his hand to the bloody mark.

Kells woke to a bright light and someone screaming and as he tried to gasp for air he realized half his throat was ripped out. It was healing fast but he couldn't figure out what was happening until something dropped heavy on his chest.

The room cleared of its brightness and he blinked his gaze to its true form. Not many creatures could stare into heaven's light and not have their eyes burned out but he was special he supposed. "Dom?" He tried to call out but his vocal cords were still healing and his brain was still catching up. He remembered his omega about to blow him before someone else appeared in the room and- the rest was blank. Shit.

A scent hit his nose and his mouth watered, Dom's blood was strong in the room but- "Oh fuck baby?" He moved too fast but he didn't care about himself. Dominic was limp on his chest and he crawled out from under him. There was an angel banishing symbol painted over the ink on his chest but that wasn't the only place the smell was coming from. His heart raced as he looked over the kid. There was an angel blade in his hands but a knife in his back. It looked like one of his own. Oh fuck.

"Dom?" His voice was broken and wet and not just from the bubbling blood. He could feel his eyes brimming with tears but he couldn't stop to question himself and his feelings. He rushed to straighten the human out before he pressed one palm around the wound and the other gripped the hilt tight. "Fucking told you. Less fucking knives. Get a gun damnit. They look cooler. Stupid bitch. You're such a stupid-" His voice caught on a sob as he pulled the knife free and let it fall. He made sure to slice his own hand so he bled straight into the wound but that was only back up.

His eyes closed and he focused inside himself for power he hadn't tried to touch in so long. He thought it was long gone but just hours before he'd healed the human. He had to do it again. "Get your ass back here. You can't fucking leave me. We have to kill dad together. Please baby? Wake the fuck up!" He begged. "Anyone up there, if you're listening… I know I have no right to ask but please? Just let me heal him? I get why you shut it off- I get I don't deserve to use that power but please? Domie hasn't done anything bad. He's a good Hunter. I love him. He makes me want to be better! Please? I love him-" His palms felt warm and from behind his eyelids he could see a bright light. A wet laugh escaped him but he tried to keep focused. "Thank you! Fuck me thank you!" He didn't know if it was heaven or himself but when he opened his eyes he could see the Hunter healing. He would be okay. He had to be.

Dom gasped for air like he hadn't had it in too long as his pulse thundered through him. One moment he was bathed in light and the next he was staring up at his demon lover. "Kells, you're alive?" He whimpered, trying to surge up to touch his throat but the monster met him halfway.

"Shut the fuck up, of course I am. Don't try and get yourself killed for me. Fuck you. Dom- shit…" Yeah... he was still crying and he couldn't stop. Their arms wrapped around each other and they shared desperate messy crimson kisses.

"I know. Fuck you." If Dom didn't know better he'd swear it sounded more like 'I love you' but he couldn't focus on anything besides the way Kells was staring at him and holding him. "Kells, I need you."

The demon knew it was more a demand than a question. They'd both almost just died and they obviously had a lot to talk about but at the moment all he could think about was that he'd mentally vowed before to make love to Dom in a puddle of blood. Why couldn't it be their own? "I need you too."

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

Holy shit that was long 😅 I hope you enjoy it! I know it's a lot to take in but I'm sure they'll talk it through at some point. Probably a little porn first though. They deserve it after that. Did Kells say 'dad'? Who is Raziel and Ramiel? How does Kells have angel powers? Is Dom just human? Keep reading to find out! I hope you're loving this as much as I am! ⚰️🖤

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Rotty Rotten's Dream Team, pt. 1

Business is as usual in Lazytown, with Rotty Rotten cooking up another scheme to thwart Shantacus' efforts to keep the town active and healthy, and a great one too, if she says so herself - after all, four heads are better than one! Cloning herself was a genius move...only, well, she didn't actually clone herself, per say, and none of them know how to be proper villains, but no matter! She'll make this work! Even if it takes a musical number! Especially if it takes a musical number.

NOTE: This takes place after the last April Fool's fic, but you don't need to read that one to understand this one. I still have not watched Lazytown, but we all know that song. You know the one.

--

Sometimes, Rotty Rotten really had to stop to appreciate her sense of interior design. After all, most people wouldn't exactly be clamoring for an underground location - even before Shantacus rolled into town and got everyone moving, most of the inhabitants did enjoy being in the sun, and Rotty could fully admit to herself that she occasionally liked to go out in it too. But she did make it an extremely tough decision! Not only did her house have the appropriate flair for a villain like herself, but also had all the luxuries she could ever want - a heavenly, fuzzy couch, the largest TV in Lazytown (technically, Shantaflop had a bigger one up in her blimp, but she barely used it so Rotty decided it didn't count), and a fully stocked mini-fridge! All the things she needed to lay around and do absolutely nothing. Even when she wasn't actively slacking off, it helped give her lair a nice, cozy feeling. Put her in a good mood. Especially when she was about to get a scheme rolling, such as right now.

"Come on, come on, just a little bit more..." Rotty Rotten tapped her foot impatiently, a bit giddy as she looked down at her watch to check the time again. She almost went over to her laptop to double check the estimated delivery time, but the doorbell rang before she could, and her grin grew wide. "Aha!"

She rushed over to the door, opening it with aplomb before nodding to the deliveryman outside. "Thank you, good sir! Here's a tip for you, and have a wonderful day!"

With that, she rolled her package inside and shoved the door closed with a quick backwards kick, giggling to herself as she rolled it further into her lair over to her workspace. Rotty would have gone with a full evil laugh as she set the package down, but frankly she was far too excited to be that composed, so she settled for letting her giggles get louder before she pulled out the box cutter. "Alright! First, let's double check to see if this is the right thing..."

She took a moment to circle around the package, carefully looking it up and down and nodding a bit to herself. It was taller than her by a fair margin, as she expected, and the box did seem to fit the dimensions of the item she ordered. "...hmm, got the right address...name's on this thing...'handle with care, arcane material inside;' sounds about right...think the only step left to take is to just cut the box open!"

With a push of her finger, she flicked the blade out and ran the box cutter down the side facing her. Carefully - still wanted the box intact in case this did turn out to be a wrong order - she pulled out the object inside with bated breath...and her grin grew wider still. "Oh, yes! This...this is perfect! Shantacus will never see this coming!"

Rotty did let out an evil laugh this time, eyes glinting with glee as she took in her latest purchase from over the internet - a grand, full-length mirror, with an ornate silver framing around the reflecting surface. One could easily mistake this for a completely ordinary mirror, but Rotty Rotten knew better. She'd made sure to triple check her sources, go to the seller with the best and most honest reviews, and read through the PDF of the user's manual the seller graciously provided on request five times over. She hadn't really dabbled with the arcane before, and didn't really intend to after this, but the end result would be well worth it. She knew she had a tendency to put a bit more confidence in her plans than was entirely earned, but this was different. It wasn't so often that her plans could be so simple and yet so effective, after all!

The plan had found its way into her head around this time the week before, as she'd looked over the blueprints for a potential trap for Shantacus. Capturing the blue-clad heroine was easier said than done - the woman had superhuman speed that Rotty couldn't react to, an uncanny intuition to avoid her tricks after plenty of exposure to her, and a tendency to be extremely...for lack of a better word, flippy. It was very distracting, for reasons she was not going to say out loud (especially because, after that one time she sprained her ankle, she was fairly certain some of the kids had a betting ring regarding her and Shantacus, and while Rotty might not have had any stake in it she was determined to win). All of which was to say, most of her Shantacus traps had to be Rube Goldberg-esque contraptions, or required Rotty to lure her in, neither of which were ideal. And then, out of the blue, it hit her - what if...she just got a helping hand? Or, to be more precise, made a helping hand?

It was so simple, Rotty wasn't sure how she could've possibly missed it before! With enough people working to set up traps across Lazytown, Shantacus couldn't possibly dodge them all! And once she'd finally captured Shantacus, victory would be hers! The only real issue was, how to do it? Her first thought had been robots, but she'd seen enough sci-fi movies to know how that would go: they'd probably decide to overthrow humanity, or worse, the robots would unionize, and Rotty would have to deal with the one evil she dared not unleash, even on herself...paperwork. Urgh. Rotty Rotten was all for unions, but it just wasn't worth dealing with one herself. So, with robots firmly placed in "no," the next logical step was clones! After all, she was a smart and intelligent woman, right? She could figure out a deal with herself.

Unfortunately, Rotty Rotten may have been good with tech, but she wasn't that good. So, with that in mind, she'd opted for a magic substitute. The Mirror of Selves-Reflection (which Rotty thought was worth the purchase just for the name alone; the name being slightly awkward was far outshined by the wordplay) had been hard to find, but surprisingly simple to purchase! She hadn't known there was an entire eBay website for magic items, but there was. Trying to make sure she wasn't being scammed had been an ordeal, but if this went well...oh, the things she could do! Finally, with a copy of her own mind to help her with her goals, Rotty Rotten would catch Shantacus once and for all, and then...! Well, she hadn't figured out what she'd do after that, but she could workshop something with her clones. Part of the benefit of having four heads instead of one!

The only real issue with the Mirror of Selves-Reflection was how it required an elaborate ritual to actually use it, but...there was a reason Rotty had requested the user's manual before she actually got her hands on the mirror.

"Alright, in you go!" Without much fanfare, Rotty Rotten picked up the mirror and awkwardly stumbled over to a large, clunky machine in the middle of the room, sliding the mirror into a thin slot on the side of a particularly bulky box. With that, she pressed a green button, and she heard the sounds of pipes extending and connecting to the mirror with a hiss of steam, with the slot closing up to hide the process. It wasn't supposed to be used as a battery for a cloning machine, but it was definitely possible, and she didn't feel like going through that whole ritual every time she wanted to clone herself. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen? No clones?

"Now, for the main event..." Rubbing her hands together with glee, Rotty pranced over to the console for the machine. Setting the number of clones to three for the moment, she then turned her attention to the big switch right in the middle, and pushed down with all her might. A steady hum began to emit from the machine, visible cogs beginning to churn as lights flashed on and off. Taking a few steps back, Rotty Rotten took a moment to appreciate her work as everything began to go faster, the humming rising in pitch as all the moving parts came closer and closer to reaching their peak. To be completely honest, most of it was for show; there really wasn't any complex machinations in there when most of the work was being done by the mirror, but it gave everything a sense of grandeur, and that was the most important thing!

"Alright, Shantaflop, time for you to face your worst nightmare...myself!" With that dramatic declaration, Rotty Rotten let out a full maniacal cackle as every part of the machine reached max speed, cogs whirring fast enough to give Shantacus a run for her money and lights flashing like she was at a rave, the humming of the machine going higher and higher until...ding! With that one little chime, the machine very quickly slowed to a stop, and with eager anticipation, Rotty Rotten ran over to the other side of the machine, where a pipe was sticking out and turned towards the ground. Looking down, Rotty Rotten braced herself for the inevitable weirdness of seeing, well, herself...but she had to stop to do a double take as she actually looked at the results. "What the?"

The thing was, that was definitely her, alright. The green skin, hair, and red eyes were kind of unmistakable, and it helped that there was some purple on all of their clothing. She couldn't exactly call them clones, though! Two of them were younger than her, for one thing - thankfully not kid-aged, because that would have been a hassle, but still younger - and of the two younger hers, one of them was dressed like something out of a high fantasy film, with the her that actually matched her age apparently having a similar taste in fashion, albeit with a more modern touch. It honestly stumped Rotty - the mirror should've made perfect clones, not...whatever this was. Did she miss something? Did the machine mess up the process somehow?

Figuring it was good to double check her sources, Rotty Rotten went back to the package, looking around the cardboard to find...aha! The user's manual, this time in print! Flipping it open, Rotty began to speed-read; hopefully she could find the source of the problem quickly. Warning, blah blah blah, side effects may include, blah blah blah, alternate universes, blah blah-WAIT A MINUTE. Rotty Rotten started scanning that paragraph again, making sure she was reading it right...and then immediately smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, come on! That is so not cloning!"

All this time, she'd skimmed past the part that went over how the Mirror of Selves-Reflection actually worked, because she assumed she already knew: cloning! It cloned people, because that was what she asked for, and that was how it was presented to her! Except, no, what it actually did was pull alternate versions of herself from different universes. Alternate versions of herself that were living their own, alternate lives, up until the mirror had so rudely interrupted them. Great. Fantastic. So, she was going to have to spend a few hours converting her "cloning" machine into one that would send them all back to their appropriate worlds, because she knew she wouldn't want to be dragged into an alternate universe and be stuck there for the rest of her life, and to make matters worse, she had no idea what these alternate hers were like! They might not even be villains, for all she knew!

But, as Rotty heard a few groans coming out of the pile of alternate selves, she sighed and put the user's manual down for a moment. Alright, whatever. She was just going to have to roll with this and hope for the best. Walking over to her various selves, she started to help them up to their feet.

--

Ow.

That was Rottytops' first thought. And her second and third thought. Her fourth thought, after she got over how sore she was, was "where am I, anyway?" One moment, she was in the family caravan, preparing to ask Shantae out for a date, the next she was here, in a pile of bodies. She couldn't really see much of her surroundings at the moment, with her view being almost exclusively limited to the floor - some kind of blue metal, but not the kind of blue she associated with Ammo Baron. No, this was more of a dreary blue, a shade she'd expect to see in a haunted house. Before she could contemplate what that meant though, she felt the weight of whoever else was in here with her get lifted off, and then someone else's hand reached out to her. "Come on, up you get..."

Wow, sounded like whoever that was had a rough day; she could practically feel the exasperation from here. She also sounded a lot like...Rottytops, weirdly enough, but the zombie girl decided to ignore that for a moment, just accepting the hand and pulling herself to her feet. She looked around, intending to take in her surroundings, but instead she found herself reconsidering her choice ten seconds ago to ignore how the mysterious woman sounded like her, because now Rottytops was wondering - did she somehow acquire three entire clones while she wasn't looking? She hadn't really encountered clones before, but this really looked a lot like a clone situation.

The one closest to her was wearing armor almost like that set she'd found in Shantae's closet a few months ago (her girlfriend had, unfortunately, refused to elaborate beyond mentioning she'd gotten it during the Siren Island incident), only with a diamond-shaped breastplate that covered more of her torso, as well as different coloring - purple with silver trimming rather than red and gold. Oh, and the animal pelts. Those were also there. They were all over her doppelganger, the majority serving to form a pseudo-cloak of sorts as well as a longer skirt, with the others serving as simple decoration alongside a collection of animal teeth and claws. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, much like her Fillin disguise, but other than that she practically looked identical. She also had a massive hammer, the head of the weapon having detailing resembling a castle on the front and back end while a skull sat in the middle. It would be extremely tempting to reach out and smack someone with it if Rotty didn't know that she'd likely fall to pieces trying to swing that thing.

The other two were, thankfully, easier to tell apart from her, because they were clearly older, more Risky's age than hers. The one adult clone that had been in the pile with her had a sense of aesthetic that Rottytops had to appreciate - she wore a tattered purple...wizard's cloak? Trenchcoat? Some sort of hybrid between the two? Whatever it was, it was tattered, purple, and had a set of white ribs around the torso as reinforcement. Out of the four, she had the longest hair, with just enough of it hanging in front of her face to shadow her eyes and make them seem to glow, which, combined with her mischievous smirk...again, Rottytops really had to appreciate the aesthetic, there. She'd somehow managed to land the perfect balance between "monster from a ghost story," "powerful wizard," and "used magic carpet saleswoman," and honestly, Rottytops was considering taking notes. Maybe not too much, though; her older clone was perhaps a biiiiiit intimidating.

That left the only her who, as far as Rottytops could tell, had not been in the pile, and frankly the most confusing one. She was dressed up in a vest and pants with red and purple vertical stripes running up them both, with a dark blue, sleeveless undersuit beneath it, exposing her bare shoulders and the stitch tattoo around her left arm (which confused Rotty a little bit; did she never get that arm detached or something?). Finishing off her choice of clothing were a pair of simple gloves the same shade as the undersuit, as well as a pair of skull earrings that matched Rottytops' own. She also had the closest hairstyle to Rottytops, albeit with some differences; she had more of an undercut, leading to a slightly choppier hairstyle than Rottytops herself, but otherwise it was pretty close.

Before any of them could start talking, the last clone Rottytops had looked at sighed, and spoke up. "Alright, I know my own thought process, so I'll answer your most immediate questions: yes, we're all the same person; no, we're not clones. I was trying to make clones of myself, but I got ripped off with a stupid magic artifact that gave me different versions of myself from alternate universes. Don't ask, I'll explain in a bit here. Now, care to introduce yourselves?"

Oh! Alternate universes. That would've been...her third guess, probably. Second guess would've definitely been secret identical twin she somehow didn't know about. She definitely had questions, but Rottytops was willing to let...herself? Explain herself? That didn't sound right. Man, this was going to be confusing. Still, she gave her older self a winning smile, and said, "Rottytops-"/"Rottytops-"

She immediately stopped herself, and turned to look at her identical self, who frankly looked just as shocked as she was. Her older self in the pinstripe suit sighed wearily, shaking her head. "...we'll put a pin in that. How about you? Please tell me your name isn't the same as theirs, too?"

Her other older self paused to consider the question for a moment, then casually shrugged. "I mean, technically it is? Only my brothers know about that, though. I tend to go by Lich Baron these days."

...oh. That...might explain the intimidation factor. And was also mildly concerning, ringing plenty of alarm bells in her head; aside from Squid Baron being basically harmless, anyone with the name Baron was bad news. And judging by the wary expression of her armored self, that wasn't just the case in her universe, either. Her other older self just looked mildly confused, clearly not recognizing the significance of the title. Which was both relieving, because that meant she probably wasn't a Baron herself, and worrying, because it meant she didn't recognize Lich Baron for the danger she represented. As if to prove her point, her older self spoke up then, "So...what? You just have a lavish house where you store all your goodies or something?"

Lich Baron seemed surprised for a moment, but then the smirk was back, and she let out a slight chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."

Her older self squinted at Lich Baron for a moment, suspicious, but then shook her head, turning her attention back to the group as a whole. "Well, you can call me Rotty Rotten. Now, back to you two - do either of you have another name I can use? Because, fair warning, if you don't, I will just use One and Two."

"Oh! Uh..." Rottytops took a moment to think. Well, she did have Fillin, but she didn't have the outfit on, so would it really feel right...? Eh, everything about this situation was weird; she'd worry about the logistics later. "Well, I did make an alternate identity for myself once. Fillin-"

"-De'Blanc?" Rotty Rotten interrupted, eyes wide in surprise. Rottytops was a bit shocked, herself; apparently that scheme wasn't exclusive to her. Who knew?

"Just the Blank, but...yeah, exactly," Rottytops nodded slowly. "I'm guessing that one's a no-go, then?"

Rotty Rotten looked to the side, a slight blush on her cheeks. "...yeah, let's...not do that one."

Oh, there was a story there. But, out of respect for her older self who was apparently responsible for all of this, Rottytops decided not to ask. Yet. She would put her expert badgering skills to use later. Before she could respond, though, her armored self spoke up.

"So, guess it falls to me to use a different name, then?" She questioned. Now that they weren't talking at the same time, Rottytops noticed that she had a slight accent that none of the others had, including herself. Rotty Rotten started to say something, but her armored self shook her head, lifting her hammer and resting it on her shoulder. "No worries, I'm fine with it. Just call me Cadaver."

"...huh," Rotty Rotten took the name in stride, taking a few steps back to look over them all, and then shrugging. "Well, if you say so. Now! Onto the more important question...are any of you villains?"

Rottytops blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden non-sequitor and the weight Rotty Rotten put on the word villains. Without thinking, she remarked, "I consider myself more of a prankster dabbling in the art of chicanery, personally? I've only done like, one evil thing and felt really bad about it later."

Cadaver raised her hand. "My first few days of existence were as the brainwashed general of an undead army trying to take over the world. Wasn't really me in there, but I still remember all of it. Does that count?"

Rotty Rotten looked utterly poleaxed. "...no, no it does not, and I am very worried about whatever standards your villains hold themselves to. Lich Baron? You?"

Lich Baron simply looked up and answered, "Yup."

"Oh, thank you! I got worried when the Mirror of Selves-Reflection turned out to be an alternate universe thing instead of a clone thing," Rotty Rotten sighed in relief, and suddenly those alarm bells were back in full force. "Alright, Rottytops, Cadaver, go ahead and help yourself to the lair while Lich Baron and I discuss business; I'll be sure to send you back to your homes by the end of the day. Now, Lich Baron, what are your skills exactly...?"

Rottytops looked to her armored self, who thankfully seemed equally concerned about this whole thing. Before either of them could start talking to come up with a plan, though, Lich Baron answered, "Oh, I raise the dead."

Rottytops looked back just in time to see the utter horror and disbelief on Rotty Rotten's face, which Lich Baron seemed completely oblivious to as she went on, "So, you want an undead uprising? I don't know exactly what your plan is, but there's not a lot of schemes that don't go smoother if the hero is busy fighting off an undead uprising. Normally I wouldn't put too much effort into this kind of thing, but you're, well, me, and I happen to have a show I don't want to miss, so I'm willing to give you a...eh, decent undead uprising. What do you say? Sound fun? Have a specific time, or-"

"NO! No undead uprising! Ever! Are you out of your mind!?" Rotty Rotten hissed, pulling her other self close. "Think of the children!"

Lich Baron stared with wide eyes. Rottytops almost felt bad for her; she knew what it looked like when she was faking confusion, so she could tell that Lich Baron honestly didn't get why Rotten was opposed to an undead uprising. "...eh, fair enough, I guess? I'm fine dialing it back; less work for me. Guess I'll just go with...ten skeletons? That sound good? Just ten?"

Honestly, Rottytops thought that did actually sound reasonable, especially compared to the Barons she knew, but Rotty Rotten clearly thought otherwise. "I said no undead uprising, and I meant it! What is WRONG with you!? Ugh, never mind; worst case scenario is fully in play."

Before Lich Baron could say something in her defense, Rotty Rotten turned to Rottytops and Cadaver. "Alright, you two! I am going to teach you how to be villains..."

She swiveled to face Lich Baron with a glare. "And I'm going to teach you how to be chill."

Rotty Rotten turned around, shaking her head as she whispered to herself, "Honestly, undead uprising...what are they doing over there?"

With that, she started to march, addressing the whole group as she walked off. "I'm going to ready the presentation now! It should only take a few minutes, so don't go anywhere!"

Huh. If it were anyone else, Rottytops would be concerned, but her alternate self seemed to have a far different idea of what villainy was than was typical for any of their universes. So, as it was, Rottytops was curious to see where this was going. Maybe she could do something to test the waters real quick...? See how far this goes, anyway. She thought it over, running over different ideas in her head, before stumbling over one that made her grin in anticipation.

Clearing her throat to catch her older self's attention, Rottytops remarked, "Will the presentation include a musical number?"

She expected Rotty Rotten to just be confused, or perhaps roll her eyes at the joke. She did not expect her to actually consider the question, looking very contemplative as she stood in thought. Eventually, she answered, "...no, I don't have one prepared at the moment, but you know what? We ARE doing a musical number later. I will guarantee we do a musical number later. You can bet on it."

With that, Rotty Rotten walked away, leaving Rottytops stunned in her place. Well, damn. She was going to be in a musical number now, apparently. Was that just normal in this universe? Was she the prankee, here? Before she could contemplate this further, though, she was interrupted by her other older self.

"...I am chill, though," Turning to face Lich Baron, Rottytops looked up to see...wow. Was she pouting? She was absolutely pouting. It was kinda funny, honestly, compared to how intimidating she'd been earlier. Maybe she shouldn't get so much of a kick out of what was technically her own misery (or however you'd quantify the misery of your alternate self), but Rottytops was willing to chalk that up to her being a naturally funny person even when she wasn't trying. "I just spook people sometimes, I don't even make my undead do anything! Aside from like, theft, but that's in the job description. What do you guys think? You think I'm chill, right?"

"...eh...?" Rottytops shrugged, giving Lich Baron the universal so-so gesture. "I mean, towards the end, sure, but you did open up with a whole undead uprising."

Clearly despairing, Lich Baron turned to Cadaver, who simply responded, "You're better than Hypno Baron."

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Lich Baron slumped over. "No one appreciates me here..."

--

True to her word, Rotty Rotten had set up her presentation - whatever that entailed - up relatively quickly. Rottytops, or rather, Cadaver, could appreciate that this supposed "villain" was considerate of their time, even though they'd only met because of a misunderstanding in magical artifacts. She'd wasted no time in establishing what the situation was, making sure they all had names to call each other, and - to some degree - informing them of why she'd set up her cloning plan in the first place, even if she hadn't actually said the reason out loud. It was the sort of directness that Cadaver could appreciate.

Truth be told, it was...nice to be able to go by Cadaver again, if only for a little while. One of the only intended freedoms Hypno Baron had given her back when she was first resurrected was her choice of name, and for that, she'd chosen General Cadaver. That name had lasted up until she and Hypno Baron had come face to face with Bolo's party and she broke out of his control, for after he was defeated and she stuck around...well, she knew exactly where she wanted to go, and as much as she liked her name, she saw no point in using a name that they'd only associate with the cold, calculating general at Hypno Baron's side. So, she'd picked out another name, joined Bolo's party (the others still made jokes about how she didn't, you know, ask, like a "normal person," but it worked, didn't it?), and that was that. Rottytops was a nice name, too, and in some ways better than Cadaver ever was, but Cadaver was still the first one she chose.

Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Cadaver sat down next to the other Rottytops, with Lich Baron on the other side. Truth be told, Cadaver couldn't quite get herself to let her guard down around Lich Baron - she was far too familiar with the dangers of necromancers to let herself do that - but, contrasted to how Rotty Rotten seemed to perceive her, Lich Baron ultimately seemed harmless. Or, rather, she could do harm, but she had a feeling most of the time it was very negligible. More like that strange fellow who kept making a nuisance of himself, Squid Baron, than the mad Hypno Baron she was familiar with. And Rotty Rotten, whether she wanted to admit it or not, seemed closer to the other Rottytops' description of a prankster than anything else.

Rotty Rotten pulled down a screen and cleared her throat, and with that cue the lights darkened and something flickered on, projecting an image onto the screen - a simple purple backdrop with gears and skulls on it. Cadaver let out a slight hum of appreciation, then turned her attention to her alternate self as she pulled out a pointer. "Alright, let's give a bit of context first..."

Extending the pointer, she tapped the screen, and the image changed to a serene-looking town with bright, cheery colors. "So! This, right here, is where we currently are: my perfect little hometown, Lazytown! A town where no one did anything, really, and I was able to sit back and relax to my hearts content...well, it used to be, anyway."

The presentation switched to her next image, showing what appeared to be a blue airship, high up in the sky. Cadaver's eyes widened, and her old general mindset started kicking into overdrive - airships were a hypothetical in her world, with no one having the manpower or materials to build one themselves just yet, so to show one so casually likely meant that either the technology they had here was more advanced, airships were incredibly common, or some combination of both. It'd be a fairly difficult target to take down, too, considering the only one who might be able to get into the air was Lich Baron...but, before she could strategize further, Cadaver shook her head and firmly reminded herself that, no matter how reasonable she was and likely would be, this was still the word of someone who actively called herself a villain, so she might want to hold back on the militant strategizing for now.

"You see, a while back, let's say...oh, a year or two now? Someone showed up and decided to get people moving, and that someone's name was Shantacus," Rotty Rotten growled, her tone layered with something bitter as she shook her head. For her part, Cadaver felt her face scrunch up in confusion, and a quick look around showed that her alternate counterparts were equally confused, even Lich Baron. Of course, she was quick to connect the name to Shantae, one of her party members, and she wasn't really surprised to find out she was a hero in this world, but...it was a bit hard to imagine herself at odds with the half-fae girl. In complete defiance of the typical slippery and treacherous image the Rogue class carried with it, Shantae was very earnest, often trying her best to communicate with her team and even the opponent if it was clear they could see reason. And while they'd be at odds in this world, Cadaver also knew for a fact that she wasn't really the type to hold grudges, with Hypno Baron being an exception. Needless to say, something would have had to go terribly wrong for Shantae to be in the same class as Hypno Baron here, and by all accounts, it hadn't - so, she had to wonder, was Rotty Rotten's anger real, or simply performative? A question to consider for later.

"...and with her around, the whole town started getting into fitness, with running and sports and yoga and blegh," Rotty Rotten gagged, sticking her tongue out and shuddering in disgust. Cadaver, personally, couldn't relate, but she did see Lich Baron nod in sympathy. "Do you know how much noise that much running and exercise makes when you live right underneath people's feet? Because let me tell you, it's a LOT! And since I couldn't exactly file a noise complaint for an entire town, and believe me, I tried, the solution was clear - Shantacus had to go! And so, thus began our esteemed rivalry..."

The other Rottytops raised her hand.

"Yes, Rottytops?" Rotty Rotten turned to her similarly-aged counterpart, and Cadaver very promptly reminded herself that she wasn't responding to Rottytops for now.

"Genuine question, can you not just, like...soundproof your place, or something?" The other Rottytops asked, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, she'd been wondering that herself, so she turned her attention to Rotty Rotten.

"Well...yes, I've got better soundproofing now," Rotty Rotten muttered, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked away from her audience. "But at this point it's the principle of the thing! Lazy is LITERALLY in the town's name; we don't need any of this fitness junk! So Shantaflop can take her sports and her diets and shove it...whatever, that's not important right now! Moving on!"

She tapped the pointer to the screen again, switching the image to another shot of the town. "Now, obviously, the most effective method of getting Shantacus out of town is just catching her myself, but that tends to be very difficult to do for...reasons you are about to witness for yourself. I hope you don't mind if I take a step back, because this is...very depressing for me to watch."

Without further ado, Rotty Rotten tapped the image again, looking away and walking off to the side, but rather than the image changing entirely to a new one, it began moving. Cadaver was impressed and wondered what it was; magic? Technology? Some combination of both? She didn't ponder about that for long, though, as the moving image showed Rotty Rotten peeking out from behind a bench, a comically large net slung over her shoulder. She looked around, clearly anticipating something, and then her eyes darted to the right, and she grinned, jumping up to her full height and swinging the net down-

Cadaver could fully admit she was attracted to Shantae. The girl was clever, but humble, kind to a world that often didn't extend the same kindness to her just because of who she was born to, and incredible in a fight in ways she couldn't help but admire, having an uncanny ability to detect and take out ambushes to the party before any of them were even aware of the danger. It wasn't something she acted on, given that her teammate seemed incredibly shy around her for some reason - she suspected Sky knew, but the druid had grown more and more exasperated each time she asked, so she clearly didn't feel like telling her - but it was nice for her to think about. Maybe, at some point, she'd be able to work herself up to make the first move, but only when she was sure Shantae wouldn't be scared off when she asked.

All of this was to say, she wasn't quite prepared to see Shantacus in action for the first time. The blue-clad heroine adeptly flipped in the radius of the net and out in the blink of an eye, outpacing Rotty Rotten without even trying, and when she zoomed up behind her to give a grin to the villain...the way Shantacus smiled, and the way she laughed, so confident and carefree, got her heart racing in ways she hadn't thought it could anymore, considering her undead nature. Her strategic side wanted to slap her upside the head and make her pay attention, but for once, Cadaver couldn't bring herself to care, and as the moving image unfurled into a compilation of various failed capture attempts, her focus was entirely on how confident Shantacus' gait was, how sure she was in herself, and, to a lesser extent, the way her body had been toned to perfection. She personally didn't quite care about that sort of thing - she thought Shantae's more athletic build fit her more than an Amazon - but it was a nice bonus. All Cadaver could think of, seeing Shantacus, was, how could I get my Shantae to act like this? How could I make her this confident?

A long, drawn out wolf-whistle snapped Cadaver out of her reverie, and she realized with some embarrassment that the compilation had ended without her realizing. Looking over, she took some relief in that she wasn't alone, as she saw that the other Rottytops was blushing like mad, eyes snapped to the screen and wide with disbelief. Before she could look to see Lich Baron's reaction though, she heard the thwip of a robe being raised high into the air as quickly as possible.

Rotty Rotten sighed wearily. "I don't know how you managed to connect any of that to your undead shtick, and I don't care - no undead uprising."

"That wasn't my question," Lich Baron stated, her grin clear even when Cadaver wasn't looking at her.

"Then what was it?" Rotty Rotten snapped, clearly expecting her alternate self to not have an answer.

"Is Shantacus single?" Lich Baron asked, with approximately zero hesitation or remorse. Almost immediately, the other Rottytops' blush grew, and though she didn't have a mirror for reference, Cadaver was sure she had her own, similarly-sized blush. As for Rotty Rotten, she had her own blush beginning to rise as she started to indignantly squawk, trying to form words but failing for a few moments.

"T-that's-Shantaflop's relationship status is NOT RELEVANT to this conversation!" Rotty Rotten finally managed, shaking her head furiously.

"Yes it is," Lich Baron shook her head in disagreement. "Because, well, Captain Shantae is fun and all, nice to tease, puts sooooooo much effort into hiding how much of a softie she is, and I would like to actually get a relationship with her going at some point...buuuuut she also has trust issues up the wazoo, and while I'll still pick Captain Shantae over her every day, Shantacus having NONE of those issues, and being jacked on top of that? Putting up some serious competition there. If she's anything like the good captain, I don't think it'd be too much trouble to seduce her into a trap...and, I mean, if you aren't going to do anything-"

"Absolutely not!" Rotty Rotten hissed, crossing her arms in an X. "There is to be no, and I mean no, flirting with the enemy! Snackcakes is off-limits-"

She suddenly stopped, her blush growing more as her words silently sunk in. Cadaver slowly raised an eyebrow as she considered the clearly more affectionate nickname for the hero, and the other Rottytops' expression slowly turned into a grin of its own, as she opened her mouth to say something-

"You heard nothing. You did not hear Snackcakes, you heard Shantaflop. That nickname does not leave this room," Rotty Rotten shook her head, taking a moment to glare at each of them. "And it especially does not leave this room in front of the kids, because I don't know what bet they have going on with me and Shantacus, but I am winning it, do you understand me?"

"Mhm. Hear you loud and clear, boss," With a mock salute, Lich Baron gave Rotty Rotten a nod before leaning back, clearly pleased with herself.

In the meantime, Cadaver was starting to piece together the picture. Her alternate counterpart was clearly attracted to Shantacus, that much had been made clear, but considering they'd started out in opposing roles and still disagreed on how fitness should be handled in this town (she still didn't get WHY that was their conflict, honestly; she supposed it might just be the weird standards of this world)...hmm. Did she just not know how to make the switch? Was this some sort of elaborate way of flirting with the hero? Cadaver didn't really care much for complicated schemes. She could make them, sure, and definitely understand them, but she knew from experience that so many complex plans had a tendency to fall apart the instant you did something they didn't expect - for instance, braining Hypno Baron with her hammer the moment she snapped out of his control - so she preferred the more direct approach. This would all be so much easier if Rotty Rotten decided to forgo the "villainy" and just ask Shantacus out on a date.

"Moving on..." Said villain shook her head, tapping the pointer to the screen again to move it to the next image. "Normally, in order to get anywhere close to capturing Shantacus I do need to use tricks like that, but there's a reason I was trying to clone myself - if we set up enough traps around town, then it doesn't matter how simple they are, Shantacus will have to fall into one of them eventually. Quantity has a quality all its own, after all! So, I'm going to teach you all how to set up some traps, and then, once we all go around and set them up...bye bye, Shantacus! Any questions?"

Part of Cadaver wanted to ask if Rotten would just go ahead and ask Shantacus out, but she didn't think that'd be well-received. So, she thought of another question as she raised her hand.

"Yes, Cadaver?" Rotty Rotten nodded towards her.

"What do you plan on doing if you succeed?" Cadaver calmly asked, raising an eyebrow. Not once had Rotty Rotten mentioned her plans for after the fact, after all.

Almost immediately, Rotty Rotten's face fell into one of irritation. "Well, I was going to work it out with my clones, but considering I'm the only me here - no offense to all of you, of course - I'm just going to have to figure it out later. Don't worry about it. Anyone else?"

Cadaver, the other Rottytops, and Lich Baron looked at each other, then shook their heads in a decisive no.

"Good! Now, prepare yourselves; we'll be heading towards sunlight in a few minutes!" With that, Rotty Rotten gave a decisive nod, and walked off, presumably to get materials.

Cadaver waited for a few moments, then stood up and began to walk off to a further part of the room from Lich Baron, hammer in hand. As she found a wall and leaned against it, contemplating her next move, she saw the other Rottytops stand next to her out of the corner of her eye.

"So...are you going to help weird not-actually-a-villain-you? Or, uh, us? Or...wow, this is confusing," The other Rottytops shook her head. "But, you get my point, right? Figured I'd ask the only other hero in the room."

Cadaver tilted her head, then nodded. "As long as we take precautions to make sure the traps don't catch anyone else in the crossfire, I don't see the harm. I'm mostly just hoping to convince her to ask Shantacus out on a date directly."

"Ah, okay, cool, cool, I'm not the only one who thinks this is an elaborate date set-up, good to know," The other Rottytops gave Cadaver her own nod, pleased to be vindicated.

Cadaver paused for a moment. "Out of curiosity, how did you get to that conclusion? I know my line of thought, but I want to hear yours."

The other Rottytops very quickly started blushing again. "Well, uh...honestly, when I thought about it, it sounded like something I would do if I was desperate enough? And, y'know, wasn't already dating my Shantae, but that's besides the point."

Cadaver considered this new information, then slowly turned her head to give the other Rottytops' a raised eyebrow and her most deadpan look. What was it Bolo said to Shantae that one time? "You're your own worst critic?" She was certain it wasn't meant to be applied like this, but she was definitely feeling critical of her other self right now.

"...hey, I wasn't saying it wouldn't be stupid, I was just saying I might do it!" The other Rottytops defended herself, then, after a few more moments of being beset by her judgement, sighed. "Honestly, how come you're the only one of us who has their shit together, anyway? And I'm including the adult-adults on this one, not just us young adults, because Lich Baron and Rotty Rotten absolutely do not have their shit together."

Cadaver snorted. "I think my party's druid would disagree with you on that front, but, in short? You'd be surprised how many problems a hammer solves."

The other Rottytops looked at the hammer in question longingly, then sighed, slumping over. "Man..."

She shook her head, despondent, then perked up without any warning. "So! Onto other topics - how about you and your Shantae, eh? You got some kind of relationship going on?"

Now Cadaver felt her own blush forming. "Ah...it'd be nice, but no, not really. She's a little shy around me, so I figure it's best to take things easy before I actually make a move. I don't want to scare her off, you know?"

"...mhm," The other Rottytops slowly turned her head in a mirror of how Cadaver had done so moments earlier, and suddenly she had flashbacks to when she asked Sky about why Shantae was so shy around her. And also felt incredibly judged, for some reason. "Say, out of curiosity, when did this shyness start?"

"Oh, that?" Cadaver thought for a moment, tilting her head. "I took a blow from a Naga for her in a temple - Shantae had been running ragged from going through all the traps in the place, so she didn't quite react to the thing as fast as she usually did, and I stepped in. Took my arm off, but I returned the favor and then some right afterwards. Still remember how awestruck she looked, back then...she'd been a little wary of me sticking around the party before then, but after that? She was happy to include me, albeit with a bit of an issue approaching. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. Just got an actual answer to my question from earlier," The other Rottytops nodded sagely.

"What?" Cadaver squinted, looking at her other self in confusion.

"Balance of the universe. Balance of the universe is what's going on with you," With approximately zero elaboration, the other Rottytops started walking away. "Gonna go do a few stretches before we head out. Nice talking with you!"

"Wait, what? What are you..." Cadaver blinked, trying to decipher what the hell that meant, before something clicked in her head. "Wait. Do you know why my Shantae's so shy with me?"

"Yup!" The other Rottytops turned her head, giving Cadaver a view of the shit-eating grin that she now had. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out! You'll just want to bash your head into a wall afterwards!"

"What?" Cadaver squinted, trying to make sense of her other self, but all she got in response was a resounding cackle as the other Rottytops walked away. She still waited to see if there was going to be an actual answer, but after a few moments, she sighed and turned away. At least she got more out of that than she did with Sky. Still, though - you'll figure it out? It couldn't be that obvious, could it? She was so certain there was some sort of complex reasoning behind Shantae's shyness, it couldn't be that simple. Like, say, if Shantae was attracted to her, she'd be able to recognize that for what it was, right?

...

...Oh.

OH.

Her alternate self was right. She did want to bash her head into a wall.

--

This April Fool's fic will be continued...next week!