#doesn’t make it much better but it does give an extra layer of angst to think of Leon learning after that he’d ordered the death of his-

[multiversal-madness]

Thinking about the Bronev family again, I hope this is coherent-

(Cw non graphic mentions of child death, Azran Legacy spoilers ahead)

Leon Bronev, a man who was likely once a good ordinary man gets kidnapped along with his wife, leaving behind their two young children because he’d found something big about the Azran (did that make it his fault? Did he blame himself?). He loses his wife while there (I’m partial to the headcanon that it wasn’t just a normal sickness) and endures who knows what other hells while stuck in that cult for decades, ending up with nothing left but the Azran.

He turns down darker and darker paths going on some twisted version of a sunk cost fallacy (he’s gone this far already, why not go further?) until he either knowingly or unknowingly orders the murder of his granddaughter and daughter in law. Then he does it, he completes his goal, he solves the last puzzle of the Azran only for all of it to have been for nothing. Then he dies for it, but is revived with the rest and thus being unable to pay with his life. He’s arrested, likely too old at this point to hold out any hope of making amends or fixing what he’s done.

Hershel Bronev, still a young child when his parents are stolen from him and he’s left with caring for his younger brother. Then they get news that he’s going to be adopted alone, that he’d have to leave Theodore behind. Instead of that, he gives up this better life and his name, giving it all to his little brother who he wouldn’t see again for decades. He becomes Desmond Sycamore

He grows up devouring his father’s archeology books, to find a way to get some kind of revenge on the ones who stole his family from him. Instead he finds peace, he finds a new family, people who love him and people he loves the same. But it doesn’t last. Targent comes again to steal his family away, this time with his own Father at the head. Desmond Sycamore dies and he becomes Jean Descole.

But despite now loathing Targent, hating his father, he follows in their footsteps. Threatening loved ones, manipulating people, even attempting to kill a child (Luke was only 10 the first time Descole had tried to kill him), all so he could be the one to uncover the Azran. He becomes like his father in more than just appearance, but does he even realise this?

He’s put on many different faces before, but he pulls Desmond from his grave to use as a mask for what should be his final trick. He meets his brother again, but he’s the only one who knows it. Throughout their journey, he almost finds that peace again, but he knows it won’t last, he won’t be tricked again. He goes forth with his plan, revealing himself attempting to claim the sanctuary for himself.

But then he jumps in front of a laser for Luke, sacrificing himself for the boy he’d attempted to kill on more than one occasion (Maybe Desmond Sycamore still existed somewhere inside him…) On what would be his deathbed, he tells his rival of their connection, of them being blood. Then they leave to confront Bronev, he should have died but he couldn’t, not yet. He drags himself to final chamber, dying and being revived with the rest of them before disappearing, leaving loose ends untied. Now Descole has no reason to exist either. Who is he?

Then There’s Theodore Bronev, but that wasn’t his name anymore. He was given his brothers first name, given his new parents’ last name, he was Hershel Layton, he has been for most of his life.

He endures tragedy after tragedy, not even remembering the first, but he doesn’t let that change him. He loses his best friend (loses the rest of the Stansbury gang), his partner (then a month in a coma) and even when he remembers his lost family, he stays a good man, a true gentleman.

I don’t know how to end this, just wish I could add a section on Rachel but we know so little about her ugh

[saphirered]

For the winter prompts: Azriel x reader x Eris, blizzard. Not angsty. 😍

It's a short one but I hope you'll like it either way. No angst, just (affectionate) bickering that reminds me of three cats that fell in the bathtub. 😘

The dark heavy clouds above just a few hours ago should have been a clear warning. This warning, was instead clearly ignored. ‘We can make it before the storm hits’ those words echo through the mountainous expanse upon not but memory. Azriel doesn’t quite recall if it was you or the Autumn Court prick who had challenged nature so to the point all three of you now wander through a heavy layer of snow, pelted by wind and ice with a sight barely further than an arm’s length even with superior senses. He’ll happily shift that blame to likely the most guilty of all, but in reality it’s the sheer fact that Eris seems the least amount affected by the horrible weather. It is exactly that smug attitude that melts away every shard of ice, and snowflakes upon contact. Though this does not mean the Autumn noble isn’t equally miserable. The two have taken to arguing constantly, quipping back and forth to the point you have stepped ahead, so the wind may numb your hearing and block out their voices, to no avail. 

“If it wasn’t for your need to show off, you could have winnowed us out of here already.” The Illyrian grumbles. That earns a snort from Eris. 

“Oh I am terribly sorry for keeping your ungrateful arse warm through the ice mist. Next time I’ll let you freeze to death. You’ll hear no objections from me.” Azriel prepares to retort, offering a beat of his wing and sending an extra heavy current of snow his way. You’ve noticed this happening and stop, turning on your heels, the fuming expression you carry might as well have melted the snow around you but you wrap your arms around yourself tighter, pull tighter the protective garments that keep you perpetually miserable but alive in this harsh weather. 

“Will you two knock it off! I’ve had enough of this endless bickering! Now shut it and behave before I throw you both off this mountain!” Eris bites the inside of his cheek to prevent some kind of witty retort to escape his lips leading you to make good on this promise. Azriel mirrors that expression and glances between the drop to his side, debating his chances. It’s not like he’ll fall far before his wings catch him. When you realise your comment Eris’ resilience breaks, a resolve you’re an expert at breaking away. Silver words, and cleverly chosen sentences have been his speciality but with you he sometimes struggles not to speak what’s on his mind, particularly so when it deals with your image of him so if he in this discomfort and unfair circumstances can throw Azriel under the proverbial carriage, he will in a heartbeat. 

“My apologies, petal. It’s just I hardly think it fair to threaten me with a demise when he has wings. I’d deem it equally unfair to blame me for our predicament. Why don’t you put those wings to work, dear Azriel, and carry us out of here?” Of course he couldn’t hold his tongue. Of course neither could Azriel who joins your side, wrapping an arm around you and shielding you from the worst of the wind despite the numbness in his wings. He gives Eris a look as you curl closer to him and his wing curls with you as much as it can. 

“I’m perfectly content flying the two of us out of here.” You’d gone over this before, in this weather it’s too risky. You and Eris would both be plummeting to your deaths with one savage gust not even a weathered Illyrian could brave. Of course Azriel had offered to take just you and leave Eris on the mountainside but you’d refused. It takes you just one look at him to say this was not going to happen and you’ll be suffering together, all three of you. You’d told him he could go off on his own but he’d never leave you alone in this. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Eris to assure your wellbeing, it’s just that he thinks he’s better at it. “The firebug can take care of himself.” 

“That’s enough out of you. We’re not leaving anyone behind now can we please keep walking before my toes freeze off!” You shiver and remove yourself from Azriel’s embrace, hold out your gloved hand to Eris. He gives Azriel a look that one is mirrored when you lace your other hand with the Illyrian’s and push on. 

“The ‘firebug’ can speak for himself, thank you very much. I much rather prefer this company to solitude.” And that’s about as much as an acceptance or admittance to affection you’re going to get out of Eris when he’s in a mood like this. The tension fleets and you continue moving, hand in hand, huddled together to bear the worst of it as you trail along this path. Just a few more miles you keep telling yourself. Just a few more miles until you can find shelter and warm up in their arms, engulf yourself in their embrace and be reminded once more that maybe the cold isn’t such a bad thing if you got these two to keep you warm. 

[blueisquitetired]

“What Went Missing” and “Things Lost and Found” unholy fusion.

You should probably read them both to understand everything, but tldr: Colress does some mind control

With guest appearances of my friends from discord! Including the author of “What Went Missing” herself- @the-digital-pen !

Emmet gets mind controlled, while in a separate universe Akari also gets mind controlled. But uh oh! Turns out Akari got sent to the incorrect future. Thankfully, benevolent Arceus sets her right…. While accidentally sending Colress with her. Now there’s two Colress’s with two brainwashed trainers and yup. The Colress’s are pretty jazzed about having someone to match their intellect and compare notes to each other.

Anyway, the two mind controlled trainers fixes one major problem in Colress #2’s plan- the fact he has to take care of a sniveling brat. It’s so easy! Just a bit of rewiring and there! Now she thinks Emmet is her dad. Emmet is given the vague task of “take care of her” when he’s not doing other stuff and now their hands are free to do science in peace.

And now Emmet has to to “take care of” a kid.

Of course, behind all the mind control, Emmet is a good human being so “take care of her” means things like: make sure she’s getting three meals a day, give the child physical affection, tell the child that she is loved, ask about how the child is doing, etc etc. He’s still super out of it and mostly going through the motions, but Akari is literally programmed not to notice and is pretty okay with this.

Other fun things include: because of the fact she calls him Dad, Emmet has slowly been internalizing that since it aligns with the orders he has been given. As far as his staticky brain is concerned he is both a shadow and her dad. not Emmet of course He also doesn’t know her name because no one bothered to tell him (the Colress’s just call her “the child” so he also calls her “the child”) (which slowly shifts to “my child” over time)

He also is getting pretty close to her subconsciously, the little bits of Emmet that are still in there are slowly growing to love his daughter verrrrry much. which makes it difficult when she starts to loose herself over time, both the part of him that cares and the “take care of her” part of him being lowkey distressed about her decline

(Also, imagine Emmet being ordered to hurt/kill her and has a psychotic break where he just crumples)

In the end Ingo would obviously get them out like in Pen’s fic- but now there’s an extra layer of Emmet’s early recovery days just constantly asking after his daughter (he keeps getting out of his hospital bed to find her and they usually have to transfer her over to his bed to get him to stay down)

Also, poor Ingo. Both his brother and daughter are mentally destroyed- and both are under the impression that Emmet is Akari’s dad. And while he’s glad Emmet was taking care of her, he definitely has complicated feelings about the replacement. And Emmet has to have the same crisis when he recovers enough to realize that his kid isn’t actually his

Also, I imagine in the relatively early days Akari releases all their Pokémon when they sleep and Emmet let’s her because that’s not breaking any orders, so they sleep in a big fluff pile that probably helps the mental well being of Emmet’s poor pokemon

For extra angst points consider: Emmet recovers a bit faster then Akari so he gets to be conscious while his (daughter?? Niece???) is completely out of it mentally

Extra extra angst: even after things get better Akari’s brain was so screwed up she legitimately can never tell them apart- even when they where different clothes. So they’re both just Dad to her- the nebulous entity that is both Ingo and Emmet

(Yes I use light mode. It’s funnier this way)

Emmet, wandering around the plasma frigate:

Colress: what are you doing

Emmet: looking for my child

Colress (kinda thrown about the MY part): uh… okay. Why?

Emmet: it is dinner time. She need to eat dinner

Colress (marveling at the strange scientific self evolving disaster he has created): ….she’s out. You can wait for her in your room

Emmet then precedes to sit in his room staring at a wall for six hours as he waits for his daughter to get home

Drayden: he only responds to either shadow or Dad. We chose the lesser of two evils

Emmet, who was checked into the hospital yesterday and just woke up for the first time: where’s my child it’s dinner time

Five nurses and Ingo trying to hold him down: Sir please

Nurse: you need to lay down

Emmet: where is my child teenagers need sleep

Nurse, sobbing: please

Someone grabs Akari from her own hospital bed and puts her on his and THEN he stays down

Emmet keeps getting up in the middle of the night because Akari told him she doesn’t like sleeping alone- hence why they sleep together in a giant Pokémon cuddle pile

Even when they’re in the same room the nurses have to pry him out of Akari’s hospital bed every morning

[ghostedgwen]

ache in you | p.parker

note : yes i am being very generous with Peter angst because I can't help myself - this was supposed to be 6k but I didn't wanna push myself too hard today. I wrote this while watching Daredevil with my boyfriend <3

warning/s : gwen died, mentions of death, grieving, pure angst, self-deprecating thoughts and some self-loathing sprinkledin there, fluff in a flashback but that's it - the rest is pain, blood, injuries and wounds, language, no comfort :>

You could tell he blamed you in some way for her death - and that actually hurts more than when you heard that snap echo throughout the tower. It's been months since you last talked and your reunion didn't exactly provide healing. words : 4.2k

Peter blames you for Gwen. He never said it, but the way he looked at and talked to you since that tragic night - he didn't have to. You could see it so clearly, and what makes it worse was how he tried to act normal.

He remained civility after the funeral, but there was no denying the way he looked at you like you weren't supposed to be there. Like you were supposed to die and Gwen should've lived.

You were already suffering from survivor's guilt, and having the person you liked for years wish you were a ghost hurt more than Gwen's death. And she was your friend as well - they both were.

You exhale exasperatedly into your palms, resting your elbows on your knees and willing the tears to keep at bay. You just got out of grief group - and this time you didn't stay for their donuts and Marie's really great brownies.

This session was hard - it's 5 months now after her death.

"Hey hun, d'you need a minute?"

You look up, finding Marie smiling down at you, and you nod at her. Looking over the other people beginning to pile out. You didn't even realize you zoned out for the rest of the meeting.

"Yeah, sorry - " you draw out a long breath. "Did I miss much?"

"Not really," Marie shook her head. "You want more of those brownies?"

"Not today." You tell her and get up, ignoring the loud sound your chair made when you left it and looked around the now empty room.

Calm beige walls covered in colorful abstract-looking art, though you're pretty sure those are just very old and faded posters that didn't age well. It's a fairly big room, able to accommodate you and the 26 other people without a hassle.

It's brightly lit, and you liked that - you often had to attend at night, and it's a good contrast to your crying sessions in your dark car in the parking lot and that very inviting table at the side. Displaying a wide variety of food, some are kindly brought by the attendees and the others are provided by the organizers.

"Has it been helping?" Marie asked, you turn to her.

A woman in her late 40s yet she doesn't look over the age of 25, her curly auburn hair tied in a high ponytail. A long-sleeved shirt with weird colorful patterns that went with the necklace she always wore - a wedding band as a pendant.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I don't feel any worse or better than before."

Marie's hand instinctively went to her necklace, running her slender fingers along the ring. "I felt the same when I first established this - this group," she gives you a small smile. "I didn't know if it was even doing anything."

"And now?" You raise a brow at her.

"I'm still grieving, but not the same way as before. Before it was just pure pain and emptiness and numbness all at once - and now, I'm just simply missing a person who used to be mine."

You let out a shaky breath, licking your bottom lip that you were sure cracked, it stings a bit. "How does it feel - losing someone you loved?"

Marie blinked in surprise, she didn't expect you to ask that. She knew about you - well, from what you thought to share. She remembered your story and how you told it on your first day -

"Why don't we let our newcomer go next?" Marie offered, extending a hand to you. You sat in a circle with others, and you perk up at the gesture towards you. You nervously fiddle with the extra long sleeves of the hoodie you wore.

You felt extra seen, all their eyes were on you and despite the many layers you put on before leaving your home - you felt bare.

"Uhm - my name is ____ and I lost my friend, Gwen, just uhhh last week," you swallow the forming lump in your throat with a curt clearing of your throat. "And she uhh - she died because she saved my life."

You kept your eyes down, fiddling with your sleeves and pulling at the loose threads. "I see that event play out in my head every single night I go to bed - and I can't help but feel like it should've been me."

But the way you said it - it felt like someone else's words that you were making out to be your own.

"It felt like having a piece of me ripped out and after that was endless nothingness ," Marie began speaking after a moment of silence when she recalled the past. "It felt like - I was never going to be happy again and this pain will be all I'll ever know."

"It felt like that, huh?" You nod slowly. That must be what Peter felt - or maybe even worse because she wasn't supposed to die. It was going to be you and Gwen - the beautiful soul that she is - got you out of the way.

Marie frowns. "Is there something we should maybe talk abou - "

"No," you shake your head and begin turning away. "There's nothing, thanks for today. I'll get going now."

You didn't wait for her to respond, and made your way out the door. Tugging your coat tighter around you and breathing out to watch as your breath fogs and you take in the car horns and the chatter of passing pedestrians.

You walk all the way to your apartment. Didn't matter if it was too cold out and the walk took you an hour, you just badly needed to do something other than sit on a train and stare off at the first poster you could focus your eyes into.

Your hands are stuffed in your pockets, you kept your eyes lingering to take in every detail of the city as you passed by shops and buildings.

Ignoring the way your nose was feeling numb and you could barely feel your lips once you finally make it home, hanging your scarf by the door and shrugging your coat off - you make your way into your empty living room and drop on the couch.

Your eyes land on the framed picture on your coffee table. It's facing down, and you reach your hand up to put it back up - staring at at the three smiling faces inside the photograph. You wished you could live in there.

In that moment and just stay oblivious to the future - to remain happy with them in the good old days.

You stare at the picture. You held the camera, pointed at you three with your stretched arms - right beside you is Peter and Gwen. He had his arms around her and the both were giving tooth-grins while you gave a wide smile.

That was right before graduation.

"This sucks ass, Gwen." You heave a sigh and lean back, staring at your ceiling. "He hates me."

You could almost hear her chuckle, feel her scooting closer to you on the couch and deny those words - claiming that he's just hurt and you're jumping to conclusions. And you would have believed her.

She was always able to calm you down and talk some senses into both you and Peter. But she's no longer here and your thoughts were beginning to devour you whole.

You throw your arm over your eyes, embracing the darkness one more time - you figured you could hurt a little more tonight.

You saw it in slow motion - Harry flying towards you and about to grab you until Gwen pushed you out of the way and she ended up being taken instead. You laid there on the ground, watching as Peter was quick to go after them.

Swinging around to catch up and you quickly picked yourself up, yelling to Gwen and running after them - despite not being a superhero yourself - you figured you could maybe do something like how you helped earlier.

You ran into the clock tower and began making your way up, feeling the fear almost take over as you look up and see Gwen hanging by a web and Peter is stuck under the Green Goblin - it all happened too fast.

You were barely halfway up when you saw Gwen pass by you - a string of web rushing after her, and then the world stopped. It might have been the opposite for Peter - the world slowed down as Gwen was falling, went on again when she landed.

But it was different for you.

It happened too fast. You were barely able to register the  blurry figure of Gwen falling past you as you tried to make your way up and then the world collectively stopped when you heard that snap echo and rattle your soul.

You made your way back down when you saw Peter drop after her, you tried to hurry but your legs felt weak and so you took a while to finally get down and once you did - the scene that greeted you was sure to make appearances in your nightmares.

"Gwen? Gwen?"

The pain in his voice felt like clawing in your heart and you felt your heart shatter at the sight - Peter cradled her limp body in his arms, blood flowing from her nose and her face quickly grew paler.

You fell to your knees a few feet away from them. Looking on as you hear Peter's sobs rattle your entire being and it felt like being broken down then out together over and over. Gwen is dead and she died because she saved you.

You jerk awake - not realizing you fell asleep on your couch and you relived that memory again. It's been that night playing in your dreams every single night for the past month, you didn't believe in ghost but it surely felt like being haunted.

You fish your phone out of your pocket to check the time. You took a nap for two hours but you did not feel rested at all, you got up from the couch and walked over to your kitchen. Turning the electric kettle on.

Leaning against the counter, arms folded over your chest, as you let the kettle fill the silence with its weird whirring noises. You cast your eyes down and will the image of him screaming with her body in his arms out of your head.

You heave out a heavy sigh and run a hand through your hair in frustration. You haven't had a good dream in so long - you didn't even care if it wasn't sunshine and rainbows.

You just badly needed it to not be that night.

After the water finished boiling, you pour it into a cup - your hand instinctively reaching for the spider-man mug you got as a joke. It was a deal - a pair of Spider-Man mugs sold as a package. You gifted the other one to Gwen for your graduation.

You wonder where it is now - did her mom keep it in their kitchen? She did claim it became her instant favorite. Because it was Peter's and because it came from you.

You put the teabag in and walk to your bedroom. Finding it to be in the same state as it had been for the past months.

Your bed was lazily made, and your study table remained untouched. You haven't gotten any work down since that night. You told your parents you were taking a year off to figure yourself out.

Told them you're gonna figure out what you wanted to do and that was partially true. You really did need to figure out what you wanted after you gathered yourself up from the puddle of mess you currently are now.

But that seems like lightyears away at the moment.

Grief group provided some sort of comfort, something to look forward to every week. Specially when all you do these days is lounge around your apartment and go out every once in a while to visit a bookstore down the road.

You sat on your bed, steaming cup in hand and took generous sips - ignoring the way it burned your tongue a bit because that was proving to be a distraction from the pictures you had up in the wall.

Right next to your lamp on your study table are printed pictures of you, Peter and Gwen. Celebrating different holidays and milestones. Your favorite one was during your graduation.

The cheering you did as Peter kissed Gwen on that stage was sure to compete with the rest of the crowd - you felt so happy for them. Despite the feelings you had for Peter, you found it in yourself to be happy for them.

There was no angst or bitter acceptance in your part, you loved Gwen before you even developed your little crush for Peter and those feelings remained even as the two dated. And you tagged along, being the best trio in Midtown.

Now - Peter most likely hates you and you both lost Gwen.

You lost your best friends and it felt like dying.

You set the mug down in your nightstand, walking over to your closet and opening it. Pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the hamper nearby - you jumped in place when you heard a tap on your window - from the fire escape.

You rush over to it, finding Peter - wearing the Spider-Man suit again and looking beat. You slide your window open hurriedly and help him inside, you practically drag him over to the bed where he laid down groaning in pain.

You didn't care about getting blood in your sheets, you needed to change them anyway, and grabbed your first aid from under your bed.

"Sorry for coming in unannounced," Peter said in between his groans, and you ignored that, pulling out the necessary things you needed from the kit. "I would have called but you changed your number."

You bit your lip before answering. "I didn't," you steal a glance at him before grabbing the pack of cotton balls. "My phone got destroyed when - "

You didn't finish and he didn't comment any further on that. Allowing you to adjust him on the bed, you stack pillows behind him to prop him up and you take a look over his injuries.

"Are you dying, or they just got you good?" You asked, you need to know how dire the situation is before you acted - inspecting his wounds and wincing at the tears on his suit.

"I got a little rusty," Peter groaned and turned over to his side, giving you access to the wide cuts on there. "And they got me good."

You suck in an exasperated breath before beginning to clean the wounds, ignoring the groans and howls of pain he let out. That went on for about 5 minutes, you cleaned his wounds in silence while he filled the silence with his grunts and whines.

Once you finished, you began covering some of the wounds up.

"Do I need stitches?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Luckily, no."

"Yay me," he said sarcastically, and his lazy gaze landed on you - he didn't even realize you were shirtless. Were you in the middle of something when he came in? He frowned at your lack of clothing. "Did I catch you on a bad time?"

"Uhh - " you look down at yourself and shook your head. You didn't even have it in you to feel embarrassed. This is your first time talking to him since the funeral and you just had to be shirtless while he's bleeding on your bed. "No, it's fine."

Peter nodded, watching your fingers work to patch him up - the same way Gwen used to. He heaves a sigh and you look at him worriedly, afraid he was hurting again and you missed something.

He sees the look and felt a tug at his heart.

"I would've done this myself but I saw your place was near and - you were the only person I could ask for help," Peter spoke quietly and you paused, your fingers remaining on his skin and feeling his warmth under your touch. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head and pull away, beginning to put the kit back together. "Don't be," you give him a tight-lipped smile. "Just glad to help."

Once finished, you got up and grabbed a shirt from your closet. Wearing it and shielding yourself from the cold that you were starting to feel - for a moment you forgot it was even there, with how warm Peter felt.

He adjusts himself on the bed, lying on his back and watching as you began cleaning up the bloody cotton pads off your floor and into the tiny bin under your desk. His eyes trail across the pictures you had on your wall.

"So, Spider-Man is back?" You ask him, leaning against the bathroom door with your arms crossed.

He gives you a sheepish grin. "I guess so."

You hesitated from asking - he could see it. The internal conflict before you managed to get the question out. "What changed? I thought you were gone for good."

"I watched her speech," Peter shrugged and gauged your reaction. "Figured the world still needed Spider-Man, doesn't matter if Peter Parker wasn't ready."

You frown at that, walking closer and sitting down on the bed - right next to him. "Spider-Man lost her too."

Peter slowly nods and avoids your eyes, keeping his on the picture of Gwen on your wall. "Yeah but Spider-Man had a job to do, people to save."

"You're not obligated to save the city," you tell him with a heavy sigh. "You're allowed to take breaks."

"And I took one. I visited her grave everyday - I didn't run into you even once?"

You cast your eyes down. "Yeah it's hard - I still think that it should've been me."

And he didn't say anything. Like you expected. He didn't give you words of affirmation or deny those words - because he believed that as well. He'd never say it out loud, but a big part of him agreed.

You were right. Talking to him after all this time will change nothing.

5 months of silence and your first conversation proves to add more pain than take it away.

You crinkle your nose and get up. "Feel free to rest, I'll go sleep in the guest room and uhh - make you breakfast if you're still here by the morning."

You paused by the door when he called your name.

"Thanks, for this by the way. I owe you one."

You chuckle. "Not just one - I keep a tab and yours are pretty long."

You left to head to the guestroom and Peter stayed on your bed, staring at the pictures while he lets his mind wander back into the past.

You sat giddily with your legs folded under you, you had on a giant green wool sweater that you had glued ornaments to. And in the middle were cut-outs of your, Gwen's and Peter's faces glued on top of some tiny elves' bodies holding hands.

"That is so ugly, I think you win this year." Gwen nods and you laugh.

"Hey, you're calling it ugly but it's got us in it."

Peter entered the living room, holding a tray of hot cocoa for the three of you and he sets it on the carpeted floor. "I have to agree with Gwen, that's uglier than mine."

You stuck your tongue out at him. Eyeing the maroon sweater he had on that he cross-stitched math jokes into. "Yours is just lame, mine is endearing." You roll your eyes and he laughs at that.

"And Gwen makes everything look amazing when she wears it," Peter teased, pressing a kiss to Gwen's head who giggled and you nod in agreement.

Gwen had on a pale pink sweater that was very frilly and she looked like a walking cheerleader's pompom in those - they swayed so much with very little movement. And they also had sequins sewed onto then to spell out 'xmas' in the bold color of red.

"I'm victorious - as expected." You grin at them and you turn to the tree. "Who touched my tree?"

Gwen puts her hands up in mock defense. "Not me."

You glare at Peter. "What is it?" You ask him and he gasps.

"I barely did anything, how did you know?"

"I spent an hour setting that up, I'd known even if someone just looked at it the wrong way."

"You are so weird," Gwen chuckled and threw jelly beans at you which you narrowly avoided. "He just added a Spider-Man ornament."

You make a face at Peter. "You are your biggest fan and I can't decide whether it's weird or narcissistic."

"I have to embrace the brand." Peter grinned coyly.

You take one of the hot cocoa mugs into your hand and grimace at him. "No one even knows who Spider-Man is, what brand are you even embracing?"

Gwen wraps her arms around his neck, suffocating him with her frilly sleeves and you laughed. "Well I think it's cute how he's so into being Spider-Man."

"Yuck."

The next morning, he actually stayed around long enough for you to wake up and check your bedroom door to find him sleeping soundly on top of your pale pink sheets. You smile at the sight -

Peter looks tired and so much different. It's only been 5 months and yet he looks like he has been through hell and maybe he has.

You were frying eggs when he stumbled out of your bedroom. Out of the suit and wearing the clothes you folded neatly at the foot of the bed - some clothes he would accidentally leave back when he would sleep over.

He'd occupy the guest room to let his injuries heal overnight and not be questioned by May and you'd spend the night watching movies or playing stupid board games with him til midnight.

"Good Morning." You greeted him.

"G'morning," he greeted back, voice hoarse and his hair is messier than usual. "What's for breakfast?"

"Eggs and toast, got any special requests?" You ask him, sliding a plate over to him which he gladly accepted.

"Coffee. Black."

You gag and began preparing it anyway, handing him the mug, which he accepted with a muttered 'thank you'.

"I'm sorry again about last n -"

"I told you not to be sorry," you roll your eyes and began eating your breakfast, sat across him and he gives you a sheepish grin. "It's fine. Saving New York's very own superhero was an honor."

He laughs at that before taking a generous sip of the coffee you prepared him. "I just - we haven't seen each other in so long. How have you been, _____?"

You take a few moments before answering. "Been going to grief group, it's going well - I think and uhh - that's about it."

"No plans for college?" He frowns.

"Not right now. I'm taking a break to figure stuff out," he nods along your words and you gesture to him. "How about you?"

"I visited her grave everyday for 5 months and that's all I did."

You chuckle humorlessly. "We are not doing well at all."

"I just. . ." Peter heaves a sigh. "I miss her so much and I feel like I will never be the same."

"I miss her too."

Peter raises a brow at you. "What's grief group like?"

"It's okay, I guess? It helped make me feel a little less alone during the whole process - I still go and they have the best brownies, so I have that."

Peter got quiet. You both felt alone during the grieving process when you two could've had each other, and that was entirely his fault. He shut you down at the funeral without even taking a moment to think.

You reached your hand out to him and all he could feel was the anger and the pain that he didn't see you. All he saw was Gwen dying and the pain of losing her took over that he shrugged you off and walked away.

He failed to see you hurting the same way he was and he still can't. Even here as he sat down eating breakfast with you like you were back to being best friends - he couldn't see you.

All he sees is what could've been.

He knew it was fucking terrible of him to feel that way but he couldn't help it.

But he didn't think you'd know, that you'd be too good at reading him enough to read his mind. To peer inside and learn just what he truly thinks of you in this moment.

You don't even know how you managed to eat breakfast quietly while subjected under his intense gaze. There was no hostility in them but you also did not feel welcome, it's crazy how you could be in your own house and feel like an intruder.

"Thanks for the breakfast, I think I'll go now." Peter gets up and you didn't say anything as he began heading to the bedroom. Fetching his suit and shoving it in the bag he brought along.

"Thanks again, ____."

You give him a forced smile. Feeling your heart ache from the realization that this doesn't change a thing and nothing will probably change between you from here on out. He's gonna keep blaming you and you will allow yourself to drown in all this guilt.

"Take care of yourself, Peter."

"You too."

And he's out the door. Leaving you back alone with your thoughts.

to be continued in the multiverse : part two

[the-apprentice-lia]

hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course— or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

[pansy-chic27213]

Sanders Sides Encanto AU

Basically, this is just how I would cast everybody. I’m basing this more on personality and the Sides’ current struggles, rather than aesthetic or Gifts.

I would love to hear your thoughts; do you agree? Disagree?

🖤 Logan as Julieta

Both of these characters are the caregivers of the family. Logan’s role would be very similar - more along the lines of fixing things. He’s the one that people turn to for most solutions to their problems, but it’s a lot of stress to always come up with the perfect answer.

💙 Patton as Pepa

I feel like this one’s a little more obvious because they both have to do with emotions. I would even give Patton the same Gift, of having his emotions affect the weather. Instead of being told to keep things sunny, he does that to himself, out of guilt.

❤️ Roman as Luisa

Like Luisa, Roman feels that he needs to always be strong and protect his family. Further, he also struggles with insecurity and how he can be of worth if he’s not helping his family. An extra layer of angst for this AU would be that, because of how much the family relies on his strength to do chores and stuff, he rarely has time to pursue his creative passions.

💛 Janus as Isabela

This one may seem odd, but Isabela spends most of the movie lying about how she feels. She pretends to be perfect and to want to marry Mariano. Likewise, I think Janus would represent this two-faced dilemma. He acts as the perfect face of the family, and so he can never truly express his more mischievous desires. In this AU, I would have Janus have Camilo’s gift of shapeshifting, because I think that would be really interesting to explore.

💚 Remus as Bruno

Misunderstood Rat Man? Says things that people don’t want to hear? Has some odd habits? Spends most of his time hiding away/being shunned? 👀

I would still want Remus to have Bruno’s Gift of prophecy, but I think the AU would take more of the angle that constantly seeing negative visions slowly drove him a little crazy, which was worsened by his family’s rejection of him. With some love and positivity, some of his more negative habits would fade away.

💜 Virgil as Mirabel

At first, Virgil doesn’t seem to have a gift. He just seems like this negative force that makes things worse all the time. He’s the scapegoat that takes the blame for any mishaps in the family.

In reality, Virgil has a gift of seeing the truth. I don’t know if this would be a magical Gift from the miracle, or something he has learned. This gift is affected by his negative interpretation of things, but over the course of the story, he would learn how to see things for how they are and how to stand up for what’s right.

But if Virgil is Mirabel, then who is Thomas?

💖 Thomas as Abuela 😈

(The little evil face is me smirking, not me saying that Abuela is evil)

In Sanders Sides, Thomas questions himself and pushes himself to be a perfect “good person” and functional adult. He’s not intentionally hurting any of his Sides, but he does put a lot of pressure on them.

Likewise, Abuela has suffered serious trauma that she never had time to process and has been trying to prevent similar things from happening to her family. She builds up walls to protect those she loves, without realizes how those walls and restrictions spread the trauma to later generations.

This is why I would cast Thomas as the head of the house and have him unintentionally put pressure on each of the family members to be perfect. Over the course of the story, he starts to realize that what he’s been doing may be wrong, but the confrontation with Virgil gives him clarity and a more clear direction for how to be better and mend things in the family.

💕 Again, I’d love to hear your thoughts and ideas! I know that a lot of the family members got left out because there aren’t as many characters in Sanders Sides. Would you bring in some of Thomas’s other characters to fill those roles? I’m just really excited about this idea! 💓

[lillian-nator]

Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU 

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO: 

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS: 

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids,  but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose: 

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine. 

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine. 

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why. 

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing. 

Phil doesn’t question it at this point 

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent  trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES: 

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S: 

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating. 

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no   - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine.   - M

[yoonpobs]

things change | jhs

pairing: jung hoseok x oc

genre: FLUFFFFFF, established relationship

words: 3, 377

summary: when you're an unlikely pair but it works

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you weren’t with her?” Yoongi slurs, his alcohol breath apparent enough for Hoseok to scrunch in his direction.

Hoseok knew, though. What he meant. Drunk Yoongi got sentimental and curious, two perceptions that were dangerous independently and possibly collateral together.

“I don’t.” Hoseok shrugs.

Because being with you was the best thing that’s happened to him and he would be a crazy man to ever put himself through the angst of imagining a world that he was Jung Hoseok without you by his side. It was cheesy and he was sure if he said it to your face you’d groan and shove him by the shoulder. But he’s always been observant and he’d be the first to see the way your eyes soften in a way that no one else can notice but him.

“I do.” Yoongi snorts.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He’s careful with his words because Yoongi was no snitch, even if he was absolutely wasted. But Hoseok can’t say his interest isn’t piqued. Especially when he surrendered himself to the DD (designated driver) of the group.

“It’s just”—Yoongi sighs, sitting up and his drink sloshes in his cup when he places it onto the table—“I’ve said this before and you’ve probably heard this a thousand times but the two of you are so different.”

Hoseok remains silent but doesn’t do anything to give away the thoughts floating through his mind. He was half-expecting the same words to leave his friend's mouth, but having it be confirmed only makes Hoseok internalise his sighs.

“Yeah. You and every person who’s seen the two of us together.” Hoseok grunts.

“Look. I know you hate it when people point it out.” Yoongi says. “And I’m not here to tell you what you already know and on a fundamental level, we both know that the birds of a feather flock together bullshit is redundant and unrealistic. It’s just that every time I see the two of you together—it works. And it’s bewildering maybe because I can’t ever imagine _____ letting you win an argument.”

Hoseok blinks. “She doesn’t.”

Yoongi snickers, throwing the last bit of his drink down his throat before leaning back into the plush booth of the club they were at.

When Jin suggested throwing a bachelor party at one of the hottest nightclubs in Seoul, Yoongi and Hoseok almost ditched purely because the two of them had girlfriends and they didn’t really want to hear the end of the story if a stripper suddenly thought they were free game for the night.

Frankly, Yoongi’s girl was far more possessive but she was sweet. She just didn’t like it when people were actively trying to sleep with her boyfriend.

You, on the other hand, were simply unbothered. It wasn’t because you didn’t care—because you did. Hoseok knew that even if you’d roll your eyes at him when he’d joke about going to a strip club with the boys. But you weren’t insecure, and that wasn’t to say that women who were outwardly concerned were. You were just assured, and you made an effort to let Hoseok know that he needed you as much as you needed him—so anything he did wouldn’t just hurt you, but him too.

“It’s just that you’re basically the most cheerful dude I know and I don’t think I’ve seen you ever frown at anyone. Even the barista who fucked up our order four times.” Yoongi recalls. “Then there’s ____ who’s resting face literally is a big fuck you to anyone who breathes in her direction.”

Hoseok snorts, sipping his virgin cocktail. Even if he wasn’t the DD, he couldn’t do alcohol so the minty flavour of his drink was a night refresher for a tiring night (though he spent it just moping in his seat while the rest of his single friends partied away).

“I get mad too.” Hoseok shrugs.

“Yeah. Barely. Even then—you’re the most diplomatic person I know and you have a way of talking to people to get your point across without making them fear for their lives the next morning.” Yoongi deadpans.

“And sometimes diplomacy isn’t necessary.” Hoseok retorts.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m not shitting on your girlfriend. You don’t need to play social justice warrior here.”

Hoseok sighs before leaning back, mirroring the man spread Yoongi was in while he ponders his next set of words carefully.

Yoongi was probably one of the most chill people Hoseok knows, and maybe that was why they got along so well. Yoongi was a take-no-shit kind of man who was truly sensitive under all the intimidating layers he showed the world. Hoseok was just nice, but he was no pushover. It was a good balance that came out when necessary.

So Hoseok didn’t want to rub Yoongi the wrong way and tell him to stop talking about petty differences between him and you but also wanted to satiate the curiousity that lingers in his eyes.

“I know,” Hoseok says. A girl nearly topples into their booth but Hoseok spots his younger friend Taehyung grabbing her by the waist and shooting the two men a sleazy wink before he stalks off with her in his arms. Yoongi rolls his eyes but Hoseok can’t even be bothered.

“I mean,” Yoongi drawls. “Based on what you told me I know that the two of you don’t even want the same things in the future. And again—not saying there’s anything wrong with that—but didn’t you want kids for the longest time?”

Hoseok nods his head, deciding against his words.

Yoongi clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, nodding slowly as if he was processing Hoseok’s words.

“How did that … do you still want kids?”

“I want what _____ wants.”

Yoongi groans. “You sound like a total pushover.”

Hoseok levels a strict stare onto his friend, and even if Yoongi was older—there was something about a man who never got angry shooting him an intense stare that could make Yoongi zip his mouth.

“And kids aren’t endgame to a relationship. I love her, and yeah—I want kids. But she’s important to me and she’s here now. There isn’t a reason for me to condemn her or push her for a future that doesn’t exist yet. She’s the one carrying the baby for nine months and it’s her decision whether or not we have kids. Whether or not a kid comes along doesn’t matter to me because I’m with her because I love her and not because of a kid that isn’t real.”

Yoongi blinks. Then he huffs a breath out before letting out a low chuckle.

“Wow.”

“I know you don’t mean any harm but I don’t need to explain to anyone why _____ and I work so well together. But because you’re my best friend and you get oddly sentimental when you’re drunk I’ll spell it out for you and you better hope you’re sober enough to remember this tomorrow because I won’t repeat it again.” Hoseok says firmly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen at the serious tone Hoseok shifted to and observes the way Hoseok looks stern yet … soft, all at the same time.

“_____ is tough. In more ways than her exterior. She knows what she wants and what she’s ready for. And it was a goddamn miracle that she decided that what she wants and what she’s ready for was me. Yeah, she’s terrifying but she’s human—her heart is still pure and she’s a kind woman—person. Sure she’s systematic and needs an answer for everything but I’m her boyfriend and I’ll make sure that I can give her all the answer she needs to feel safe in this relationship. And yeah—we may not want the same things. She doesn’t want to get married but I do. But marriage isn’t endgame to me. She is. She wanted to move in together but I was iffy about it. So we live apart. That doesn’t change the nature of our love and she still loves me even if all I do is annoy her. So yeah. I’m willing to compromise and so is she. We’re different but we’re together.”

Hoseok is still calm as ever and there’s even a hint of a small smile on his face. The fact he’s smiling only testifies to the fact that you and Hoseok were so different from each other.

Yoongi is stunned to silence and sure he’s a quiet man but he usually had things to say, opinions to add. But Hoseok’s proclamation of your love only makes him sit in silence, letting the words dissipate in the atmosphere but remain in his conscience.

“Wow,” Yoongi repeats his words from earlier, but it’s all he can muster up.

Hoseok offers his friend a kind smile, sipping the rest of his drink while his friend can only stare at his nonchalant demeanour.

“And if you still don’t see it.” Hoseok grins. “There’s a reason why you don’t. I’m the only one that gets to fall in love with her like this.”

Yoongi whistles lowly before rolling his eyes. “No need to get possessive.”

“I’m a man in love. Sue me.” Hoseok shrugs with a slight smirk.

Yoongi gags at the cheesiness even if he finds himself internally grinning at his best friends blatant love for his girlfriend. He was sure it was the alcohol that was making him mushy—or perhaps Hoseok has always looked the way he did when he spoke about you. Eyes bright under dark lights and the heart-shaped smile of his becoming wider.

“If it counts for anything …” Yoongi trails off, offering a lazy smile to Hoseok. “I really hope she does marry you.”

Hoseok scoffs at Yoongi’s blatant optimism. Sure, he wanted that. He wanted nothing more than to see you in white, smiling only at him—or even with your usual stoic face—he doesn’t care. But he knew that the event itself would never change the fact that he wanted to be with you, now and forever. If fate wills, he’d marry you in a heartbeat. But Hoseok was content—and more importantly, he was in love.

“It doesn’t. But thanks.”

extra scene

“Hi, my love and my absolute sunshine.” Hoseok coos the next morning, and that’s the first thing he says when you open the door to your apartment; eyes already rolling to the back of your head.

“Did you do anything to piss me off?” You ask dryly.

Hoseok snickers, but pulls you in by your shoulders to give you a wet smooch to your lips that has you whining. You don’t push him away because you knew it was just the two of you and possibly one of your snooping neighbours.

“As you love to remind me during arguments—my existence is enough to do that, no?”

You nod your head, patting him gently on the cheek as you offer a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad you’re on the road to self-actualisation.”

Your boyfriend snorts, stepping into your apartment as he makes sure to leave his shoes on the shoe rack instead of idly laying on the floor because you were anal about things like that. And he missed you so he didn’t want you shooting him death stares just yet.

“You keep me on my feet.” Hoseok flirts, tone a little sleazy and you can’t help but sigh at your boyfriend's antics even though a hint of a smile marks your face.

When Hoseok settles into your couch, he immediately spots a wrapper that looked like it went into gift boxes—a pretty shade of green, which was his favourite colour. He immediately leans forward and eyes it with furrowed brows before looking up at you.

“My pretty baby got me a gift?” He wiggles said brows as you scoff at him, plopping into the seat next to him as you lean into his embrace.

“See for yourself.” You shrug, face still remaining blank.

Hoseok chuckles, already expecting your reaction even though everything about the placement of the wrapper to the strategic colour scheme of it screamed a gift for Hoseok. He knew you still got flustered when you did nice things for him, even if he’d argue that was on a daily basis because you were just a loud lover in a way that let your actions speak for your affection.

He wants to coddle you further, snuggle you so hard that you’d whine and attempt to shove him away until you decide that you secretly love it and hold him tight. He was so in love. But he placates the shift of your knee in a way he knew was due to your patience wearing thin.

So, he picks up the wrapper and realised that it was much lighter than he’d expected; and lacked the density of a usual present. It almost seemed like you were pulling a prank on him for no apparent reason. But Hoseok trusted you and knew that you weren’t the type to pull shit like that because you just had better things to do.

He unravels each crevice, eyes still searching for the gift that somehow never comes—all until he finally settles on a stick that he vaguely recognises from pharmacies that he never thought would be in his hands, staring up at him with two straight lines.

The silence is loud, but Hoseok is stunned. His mouth falls agape as he cradles the pregnancy test in his palm, eyes not bothering to look at your nervous expression. One that rarely comes from you just because you were an assured person in general and seldom needed validation from others.

But you loved Hoseok and you knew deep down that he’d always have an effect on you, words or actions—presence or not.

“Hobi?” You call softly, voice nervous as you fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he blankly stares at the test.

You’re terrified you made a mistake—or if he’s changed his mind because of your pessimism on the idea of having children. Sometimes you wonder how Hoseok could love you, all edges and harsh lines when you spoke. A woman who was either black and white or purely a grey area. Hoseok was the rainbow on dark days and brightened any environment.

You can’t read Hoseok’s face, and it scares you. Because you usually can since he was an open book. So when he finally turns to you, and you finally get a proper glimpse of his expression—

First, you see tears.

“I-Is this …?” He chokes.

Your eyes widen, immediately reaching out to cradle his cheeks as an involuntary reaction.

“Why are you crying?” You feel yourself tearing up and you try to suppress it. There was something about you being so connected to Hoseok and his feelings that made everything he felt translate to your own conscience.

“Y-You—I-I—you’re pregnant?” He whispers, eyes returning to the stick.

You nod your head slowly. “I am.”

Hoseok nibbles on his lips and you wait patiently for his next response. You can more or less guess that he’s happy yet confused, the conversation of potentially having kids never really showing any progress. But he’s been patient and so loving—and you thought you’d never shake but here you were.

The next thing you know, Hoseok is wrapping his arms around you so tightly that it hurts as you try to gasp for air. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck in a way that makes all your edges turn round, and your heart melt from the stone wall it was into a flurry of emotions that only he can bring out of you.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He asks softly, pulling away to clasp his palms around your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“We are.” You reply, equally as soft; eyes and tone. “You’re going to be a father, Hobi.”

And somehow, that breaks him. He can’t stop the tears nor can you. So you allow him to cry, and you allow yourself to feel too; holding each other close as you feel his hand reach out for your stomach. And you can’t deny the butterflies that erupt.

When he manages to regain his composure, wiping at his eyes; he looks at you so earnestly and gives you a wide smile that drew you in from the moment you met, and grown to love.

“You really want this?” He asks, eyes concerned but tone irrevocably gentle. You knew he wasn’t doubting your choices, but respecting them.

You nod your head.

“For the longest time … I thought kids weren’t for me. That I wouldn’t be a good mother because of how I am.” You tell him, and you see Hoseok’s eyebrows furrow and you know he’s thinking about denying that. But Hoseok has never been the type to interrupt you while talking. “And maybe I won’t be, maybe I will. But having you here with me just reassures me to know that our baby will have the greatest, most loving and most patient father out there.”

Hoseok’s eyes soften, knowing how big of a decision this must’ve been for you.

“I love you.” He whispers when he leans in to give you a slow kiss on your lips, one that wasn’t leading anywhere but was nice enough to feel the emotions pouring through.

You don’t say it back, but you look at him with gentle eyes that only he can recognise—and he knows. He knows your heart like you know his.

“You’ve compromised a lot of things for me, and I know I’m particular about many things. I have a plan ten years down the road of where I’d like to be in my life—and I never thought I’d be planning with a kid in mind.” You chuckle softly, and Hoseok pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head against his chest. “But you make me want to do things I’ve never done. And I really—I really want this baby. I want him or her to grow up thinking about how badass their parents were even though their mom is a total bitch and their dad is the mediator of the family.”

Hoseok snorts, brushing his hands through your hair.

“How long?” He asks.

You grin against his t-shirt, not looking up when you fiddle with the fabric of it.

“I’ve been feeling symptoms for a month now, and the test was from a week ago. I went to the doctor to be sure because I knew from the moment I suspected it that I wanted it to be true, for you, for me—for us.”

Hoseok tilts your chin up, offering you the smile you love so much and you feel so … happy.

“Next thing you know I’ll have you walking down the aisle.” Hoseok sighs, happy and content.

You roll your eyes, narrowing it at him as you push on his chest to sit up.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jung.”

Hoseok wraps his hand around the back of your neck before pulling you close to meet your lips again.

“Let a man dream.” He grins against the kiss.

He can feel your giggle and the way you do the thing that you do when you’re secretly ruffled but adore him way too much to pull away.

“You know this means we have to move in together, right?” You murmur against his lips.

Hoseok snorts. “Duh. But you know you already have a home in my heart, right?”

You expected it, but it doesn’t make it any less cheesy when you groan and shove at his chest. Hoseok cackles, fully loving the way you scrunch your eyebrows in distaste at him.

“I hate you.” You scowl.

“No, you don’t.” Hoseok sings, resting his head against your shoulder while he looks up at you with innocent eyes.

You’re happy, and so is he.

And a few months down the road, Hoseok drops a ring into your palm, no words or expectations. You roll your eyes, as usual; but you slip it onto your ring-ringer anyways.

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 07

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.5k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, swearing.

♤ A/N: Surprise! I'm really sorry it took me this long, but I finally found the time and drive to write again :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

06 07

"What do you mean this hybrid doesn't exist?"

Her eyes are wavering with an unspoken fear, perhaps caused by the bitterness my questions holds. I'm not happy, and she knows.

“It’s just, the chance that a dangerous breed such as the tiger hybrid would escape our system is basically zero..” The gaze she held on the computer screen unsurely moves my way. My expression must've instilled another layer of anxiety to the already existing one, as her mouth abruptly stops moving and her pupils dilate.

“Go on, explain.” The tone of my voice softens a bit as I notice her visible discomfort worsening. Even if there is no way that I’ll get any information from this place regarding Taehyung and his owner, I would still like to know why they’re both not showing up here.

Eun-ji takes a few deep breaths to stabilize her voice. As she does her posture slowly relaxes just a little and her eyes lose some of the nervousness they held before. “Because the first ‘successful’ tiger hybrid ran rampant after killing their creator, anyone who still breeds or creates them is being watched very closely by us, as well as by some other institutions.”

Perhaps it’s my lack of reaction that causes her to trail off at the end. Though I’m not judging her or her story, unlike she may think. To encourage her to continue, I give her a nod, tilting my head to show interest.

“The regular citizen isn’t even allowed to have one, needing special training to handle them. It’s like that for most hybrids that find their origins in wild animals. Creating tiger hybrids obviously requires a lot of knowledge when it comes to playing with genes and breeding them…. Well there are only three organization that are authorized to do so. All the resulting hybrids are registered and chipped.”

The explanation, which turns out to be a lengthy one, gets broken by a shuddering breath leaving her lips. She composes herself, clinging on to the little confidence she has left in her line of work to speak about the rest of her clarification.

“Of course people have tried to do it themselves, but those d.i.y operations have always ended in disappointment. If not taken proper care of, with substances only a board certified hybrid doctor can provide you, the pregnancy will fail. These are no easy practices they are dealing with.”

After the girls’ last words I give myself some time to think, letting a silence full of tension fill the room. It must be obvious that my mind is somewhere else at the moment, as the other girl in the room does her best to stay quiet. I don’t need much time however, my thoughts having quickly rearranged themselves as they were trained to do.

“So what you’re saying is, since tiger hybrids are hard to ‘create’, if you will, there are only a few people who actually manage to bring them to life. And so those few people are kept under close watch, as are the hybrids they successfully wake, am I correct?”

Eun-ji nods affirmatively, clearly happy that I seem to understand the situation. “So there is absolutely no way that someone without authorization has had a decent attempt at either genetically merging a human together with a tiger or getting a tiger hybrid pregnancy to be successful?”

Perhaps there might be a bit of scepticism in the question I asked, as her attitude immediately changes into a defensive one. “There is not! Whatever hybrid you’re searching for either gave you a false identity or is not a tiger hybrid at all, which would seem rather unlikely. I told you they get chipped right? Why not go look into that.”

“He doesn’t have one. We already had a hospital take a look at him, they didn’t find anything. ” The statement seems to shock her, the gears in her head instantly turning as to find an answer to this riddle. She however can’t seem to get one.

“They can be removed, can they not? They’re just under the skin. If someone decided to just cut it out they could. Terrifying, but plausible. Either that or one of your faithful authorized employees has been leaking information to outsiders.”

This is where Eun-ji seems to give up. Her shoulders sagging and a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “There would still be the problem of the missing equipment, test subjects, practice… How would you even get hold of fertilized human eggs to play around with? But I guess that wouldn’t be totally impossible. As for cutting it out… There would be a noticeable scar. The implants are always put in the same place, it wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

I make a mental note stating to ask Taehyung about all of this when I get back. If anyone knows how he got onto this world it would be him. “Is there a possibility that you could have someone look into it?” The girl nods in defeat, paying more attention to the ground than to anything else. “I’ll see if I can get someone on the case. I’ll have them contact you if we know anything.”

After those words she turns around in her chair, facing the monitor that had already put itself into sleep, and turns it off. Taking a notepad out of the drawer to her left, she quickly writes something down with the pen from her breast pocket. “I’ll get on it right away. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”

I shake my head. “No It’s okay, I’ll find my way back. Thank you for cooperating.” Eun-ji gives me a small smile, followed by a bow and walks out of the room taking the note with her, presumably immediately keeping herself busy with the extra work. Not wanting to waste any time I copy her, walking myself back into the direction we came from. Turns out it proves quite easy to find the exit by myself.

It’s already far past dinnertime when I make it back to the office. Not many of my colleagues have remained in their seats, most of them opting for a nice meal with their families. The few that have stayed behind are mostly known to live alone, quite like myself.

I quietly knock on my supervisor’s door, but when no response emerges from within the room, I can safely deduce that she too has already returned home. “I’ll have to write her a report about today later..” I mutter to myself, before stepping away from the door and instead heading to the cells at the back.

Technically the arrest period had already ended for Taehyung, as the law wouldn’t allow us to keep him locked up for any longer without any charges being held against him. His cell however technically was never locked and so even now, he is free to go wherever he wants. Though it didn’t change the fact that he still has no place to go to.

“Good evening. Had anything to eat yet?” He just chose to stay here and we accepted it. “Oh, hello! Yes, that tall handsome bulky man gave me something earlier, I can’t remember his name. He said something about it ‘being the best shit in town’.”

I slightly giggle at his quote, knowing immediately who it belongs to. “That definitely sounds like something Namjoon would say. What did he give you?”

Taehyung looks a lot better than he did yesterday. The stress of the interrogation seems to have completely worn off, instead traded for the sweet bouncy personality he used to show around me.

“Umm it was something in the shape of a circle and it had meat all over it… Oh! I think he called it a pizza? It was delicious!”

“You’ve never had pizza before?” The words leave my mouth before I actually get the chance to process them, causing me to instantly regret ever even opening my mouth. These days are stressful enough for him as they are, he doesn’t need a painful reminder of the life he never got to live on top of that.

The question doesn’t seem to hit him as hard as I though it would though. In fact, his demeanour doesn’t seem to change at all. Although sadly, it doesn’t make his next words any less painful. “Nope! When I first got adopted all they would feed me was wet cat food. It wasn’t great, but at least I got my three meals a day. The foster family I stayed at after my first owners mysteriously disappeared didn’t actually have the money to even take proper care of themselves, so at that time all I would get was whatever was left of their dinner that day, if there was even any left. It was mostly just greens. The lack of meat made me real sick at the time.”

He pauses talking for a second to look up at my face through the metal bars. The content look on his face quickly changes to one of worry once he catches my eyes. It’s no mystery why, I know I look at him pitifully. Even if he may not wish for my concern, I am only human. I can perfectly hide it when I need to, but this is not one of those cases.

“There it is again, that sad look on your face…” He sits up straight on the side of his bed to fully observe me, a tilt of his head giving him away. I send a sad chuckle his way as I reach for the door of his enclosure, inviting myself into the small space with him. He doesn’t object.

“Is it that obvious?” It was meant more as a way to lighten the mood, not as an actual question that needs answering. He still does however, giving me a simple slow nod. “You don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“Someone has to. You deserve at least that much.”

There’s a chair neatly placed under a small desk in the room. It used to be quite lively, with all kinds of bright colours blending into each other. It was a little positive additive into the dark grey room, but after all the anger that has been acted out on it, it no longer has that same shine.

I pull the chair out to place myself upon it, straddling the seat while I rest my arms on top of the back rest. Facing the tiger I use my arms as a pillow to lean my head on, making myself comfortable on the creaking furniture.

“Say, Taehyung, do you remember anything from when and where you were formed?”

He seems slightly taken aback at first, though quickly regains his composure. He also doesn’t immediately answer, first taking some time to think before coming back to me. “I was born a hybrid to two purebred tiger hybrids. They did their best trying to care for me in the little time we got to spend together, but seeing as it happened on a breeding farm getting to spend time with my parents wasn’t the plan. I got sold off pretty quickly, as soon as I learned to hold my first few full conversations.”

“Do you… Would you happen to know what happened to the farm? To your parents?” I fail to hide my apprehensiveness, needing too much space to form a careful approach. This shouldn’t feel like an interrogation to him, I never even announced one. There is little reason for him to answer me, the vital information from his side has already been given anyway. Nonetheless, even though I probably shouldn’t be doing this right now, I can’t just miss this opportunity.

“I heard my adoptive family talking about how the place was burnt down a while later. Most likely the police had caught a hold of it and they had to delete their left behind evidence. Both building and hybrids.”

Despite talking about the death of his parents, he seems to tell the story with relative ease. Probably not having much connection with the far past, his brain too young to truly hold on to the memory of them.

“They were successful too, as the case got dropped faster than lightning. It wasn’t long before the general public forgot about it too, believing it was just another misunderstanding. Besides, hybrid lives weren’t as important anyway.”

The amount of rights hybrids had when they were first created back in the day were close to zero, only strictly being seen as objects to show off whatever possible wealth one may have had. For a while there was even a popular theory going around that hybrids didn’t actually have the ability to feel any kind of emotion or pain. The genetic puzzle wouldn’t allow for it, as it had been tampered with to an extreme extent. This only built on the carelessness shown towards them, slowly chipping away at their sanity.

Although the rumours were wrong, they came from a place of truth. Facial expressions were rare for hybrids, as was the ability to speak. Most of them couldn’t even keep up with regular humans, exhaustion quickly taking over the little anger they could show. Scientists hadn’t yet quite figured out how to perfectly combine the pieces of genetic code and so hybrids were more like living dolls in the eyes of evil humans. Having no voice to object and barely any means to actually hurt anyone, it wasn’t much of a surprise the selfish nature in humans came to rise.

Luckily, or depending on how you look at it, sadly, these first generation hybrids were never able to reproduce. The doll like hybrid features eventually died out with the rise of the newly perfected pieces and the theory was debunked by a group of scientist who actually did care about the hybrids’ wellbeing. Those hybrids had lived through countless punishments, and every single one of them had hurt. A lot.

Right now hybrids in a lot of ways are superior to the rest of us. Having the combined senses of both animal and human alike, society has reluctantly given up on trying to contain them. They are still to be bought and owned, but no longer to be treated like dirt. The smartest of hybrids have even already gotten complete freedom to do as the please, no longer having to be bound to a human to roam freely. However, those unable to pass the close to impossible tests aren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Taehyung gives me a reassuring wave of his hand, effectively trying to lighten the mood, along with a sad smile. It wouldn’t take a trained professional to know he still longs for his parent’s presence, even if he may do well hiding it.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

That doesn’t make the situation more okay, but I hold my remarks back. For now, that might just be for the best.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @the8luvr @deathkat657 @elenaramos1 @namjoonies-dimple

[charkyzombicorn]

Okay but what if luffy got his devil fruit a bit younger? Like he was 4ish when shanks brought it. Garp gets pissy earlier and decides to tie some balloons to his grandson and let the sky handle him while he makes arrangements with dadan.

But then it's a particularly bad day for luffy, and a strong wind carried him away from his island, he ends up falling right into one of the newer slave trader's ships and well fuck. He tried to fight them off but one of them has a collar with sea stone that the big boss person gives to every ship, even the smaller ones. So now luffy's fucked.

Since he's got a devil fruit, he's taken to the big boss child slave distributor asshole (put that on a business card) and then eventually gets taken to judge, because of course that dickhead would buy superpowered children. Judge gets him purely because rubber boy can take a hell of a walloping and also is stronger than the average four year old.

The vinsmoke brats and Sanji end up being pitted against Luffy and luffy does not win, but he doesnt die either so that's a plus. Sanji hates beating up a four year old, his brothers seem to love being able to punch something as much as they want without them being taken away or dying.

Luffy ends up learning how to fight by force, and eventually he's dubbed Sanji's fighting partner since they're both the weakest, which sucks because if sanji loses he gets locked up and if luffy loses then judge gives the other three brothers sharp objects and free time with luffy

Eventually luffy befriends sanji because of course he does, and loving food as much as he does he becomes the taste tester for sanji's cooking endeavors, and sometimes luffy manages to limp away to talk to sanji when he's in his cell.

When they escape, they escape together, and sanji becomes a bus boy and luffy just carries shit because he cant really do anything else but he could deadlift a ship at 10 so hey

When the attack happens, sanji's trying to save luffy, but zeff has to save him. Sanji sits on that rock almost certain that luffy's dead.

Luffy didn't die tho, because no, and he got saved, idk how, this is a writing prompt u figure it out, and they end up growing up apart for a bit after that. Luffy doesn't find his island again, but he does a bit of bounty hunting to get by and ends up making a name for himself because apparently his 'training' with the vinsmokes was a little more brutal than he thought.

Sanji works hard, he feels he owes a debt to both zeff and luffy, both of which helped him in some of his worse moments, and ends up a bit more edgy than in canon because he thinks his only friend is dead (push him to the edge🎶)

But then luffy gets blamed for something that was only really half his fault and half the random bandit he was fighting's fault, and he ends up with a bounty. It isn't a big one, just about 10000 berri, he kinda destroyed a bit more marine property than is recommended. But then sanji sees the bounty in the paper and he doesnt know if he should be glad his friend is alive or angry that luffy let him think he was dead.

But then luffy comes to the baratie when hes about 15-16, and then he sees sanji again and now he's super fuckin happy because how would luffy know sanji was alive?? They both came to the conclusion of mutual misunderstanding and lack of information after a bit of angst, because its sanji and luffy. But they get over it because they were both on the bottom end of the vinsmoke hellhole and does it really matter when they're reunited?

Zeff let's luffy steal sanji because it's been over a decade but luffy still wants to be the motherfuckin king, okay? And sanji's gonna be the cook for the pirate king and find the all blue because

Sanji becomes luffy's first mate and then start a sailing. Luffy attracts friends like a magnet, they get usopp next, and luffy kills kuro because luffy isn't as not-killerish as he is in canon because tragic backstory and if you leave a kid alone to be a bounty hunter long enough with only their own brain to make the morals, what do you expect will happen? Usopp joins because 'UwU piwate' is his opinion on the matter

They get nami, and sanji's a bit more chill than in canon because growing up with a guy that was also nice along with his sister and mother had a bit of an impact. He's still a bit if a french goth and treats nami better than other people but he isn't being a douche about a lady fighting or making faces quite as stupid.

Zoro joins but Does Not like sanji, which is mutual but luffy likes him so sanji must deal. They make their way toward the grand line, going back to the baratie, or what's left of it.

Sanji gets another thick layer of angst learning that while he was gone, don krieg destroyed the ship trying to steal it, and then they go to find don krieg, postponing grand line for a hot second because luffy wont leave until he gets to personally kick the ass of whoever made his cook so extra angsty, and sanji seconds that.

They find don krieg in Cocoyashi island, after crashing there with his broke ass ship. They fight him, the ruckus brings out arlong before Nami can attempt to lie to save them.

Sanji gets off one angst and gets it replaced with another when he can barely do shit because he was cooking all this time and is no longer as strong as luffy, who was only really working on fighting. Luffy almost dies because he has to fight both those shitheads back to back, but he wins.

Sanji starts getting more aggressive with zoro, and zoro only stays because he saw the fight and respects his captain, but that's a bit of a loose thing, ready to snap with a wrong move. Or maybe zoro leaves because he needed that fight with mihawk to realise this was serious and he was a pirate now, to each their own.

They stay in the east blue a little longer because luffy nearly died and they dont have a doctor, but he's fine. Sanji gets more guilt tho because that's how he is, and starts treating luffy nicer, which leads to luffy instigating a fight between the two of them because luffy wont swallow that shit. It helps things because violence is sometimes the answer

They head to the grand line, up reverse mountain, meet the whale, the whole shebang. Sanji might catch feels by this point because honestly who wouldn't?

Nami gets sick, and luffy doesn't know how to deal with that because back when he was being carted around with a sea stone collar and 30 other starving children, they just shot the ones that got sick. Ptsd time and guess who gets to help because zoro isn't first mate/here? Sanji! Which definitely puts things into perspective because for as long as he'd known him, luffy's tried his hardest to make sanji smile, and keep him company, even though after being bought luffy's only purpose was to be a stepping stone in sanji's development. So sanji finally being smacked across the face with the brunt of bottled up traumatized child luffy, he needs a fuckin smoke.

They find drum island and then same shit as canon, except it hits a bit harder with luffy carrying a dying nami and a heavily injured sanji up sheer rock because that's the only person that luffy had when shit got rough that he's holding between his teeth.

When sanji wakes up he probably notices how injured luffy is and can estimate the ringer he's been through because Sanji had to personally find out how luffy's healing factor worked because he was a good fraction of the reason luffy needed to heal so much.

They acquire a chopper :3

This is getting long and it's pretty much the end of my idea, sorry for the long informal post.

[minghaocouture]

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader Genre: Collage AU, Fluff, the tiniest angst Warning: Minor self esteem issues (from reader), Language WC: 2.9K

A/N: @woozisnoots​​ my sweetie baby! This is your Holiday gift from me!! I wub yoooou and i hope you like this <333 The song mentioned in the fic is Tell me you love me by Bolbbalgan4 and i actually just kept listening to it on repeat while writing this lol, it’s such a cute song, and all the italic words are song lyrics (the english translations)! Also yes i shamelessly name dropped our friend group in this, don’t judge me

“You don’t accept my hi as usual I know you’re popular and handsome  but you’ve always given the cold shoulder Only to me.” 

The lyrics flowed easily from your lips and into the microphone, eyes closed as you felt the vibes of the chorus and attempted to put the right layers of emotion into the song as you did so. The instrumental paused just as the chorus ended you heard the familiar sound of your partner through the headphones.

“Can you run that one more time. Hold that last note a bit longer, and make the staccato in the first beginning a bit sharper.” On the other side of the glass sat Lee Jihoon, and the brains behind the operation despite this being a partnered project. At the beginning of this, you never would have thought that the two of you would have been working together so well. Not with how the project began. 

You gave him an affirmation of your understanding and he began from the end of the pre-chorus, letting the melody and his test vocals fill your ears just before you began again.

When you had first been assigned partners, you were less than enthused. Sure, you had a major crush on Jihoon, his passion for music inspired you and you always loved watching him in class when he would perform. But, he was notoriously a rather critical partner. During the last partnered project in class a close friend of yours, Binu, had been assigned to work with him. She ended up confessing that she didn’t really get too much of a say on anything and that Jihoon did the project mostly by himself. Needless to say, she was much happier with this project being partnered with your mutual friend Mar. 

The recording session wrapped up nicely and you began packing your things as you realized how late it was in the evening and your friends would start to get concerned if they didn’t hear back from you. So you pulled your phone from your bag and quickly messaged your group chat to let them know the situation. As you went to place your bag over your shoulder you heard the familiar sound of a stomach growling.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room and watched Jihoon sigh and sit back down at the recording booth, his laptop still open but he didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving to get sustenance. Much to your own surprise you decided to speak up.

“Hey, I was planning on grabbing some dinner. Did...you wanna come too? We’ve been here for a while and we could probably use some food.” You suggested, an inviting smile plastered itself onto your face. You hoped it didn’t seem fake, after all you had invited Jihoon to eat before and he had always denied the offer. 

Much like all previous times, you saw his rather small head shake in denial.

“Nah, I’ve got some stuff to finish up here. I’ll probably grab something before heading back to my dorms...or maybe I’ll ask Mingyu to pick me up some dinner.” You’d heard about Mingyu before, his roommate who he says he tolerates but you can tell that he does really care about the guy from how he talks about it. 

Most people say that Jihoon is hard to read and closed off, but you know they’re wrong. He just...emotes differently, he has his own ways of showing affection and you can see it in his eyes and the little things he does and says. Being around him like this has honestly only made your crush worse. 

“Well, alright, but you better eat something and go home tonight. I don’t wanna come back here tomorrow and see you in this same outfit cause you haven’t gone home.” Which...had happened on more than one occasion during this project.

He shrugged, not turning back to face you.

“I brought extra clothes this time.”

***

“Seriously? I can’t believe he said no again! Ugh, I hate him and you deserve better than to pine after that short stack!” Rolling your eyes as you listened to Krys ranting once again. 

Since Jihoon refuted your invitation you decided to invite out your best friends. The 5 of you heading to a nearby fried chicken place, crowding into the booth that your friend group had basically claimed (when it was available at least) 

“It’s fine Krys, he’s just really into his work. He’s probably going to be in the studio editing until all hours of the morning.” You explained before shoving some of the complimentary salad into your mouth as you took a break from the chicken itself. “I might even take him some food before I head back to the dorms.”

“Nu-uh! I’m not letting you! That boy doesn’t even talk to you outside of class, he doesn’t deserve your time or your energy!” Krys exclaimed.

“I mean, he kinda does. Talk to her, I mean he waved at her last week.” Maya brought up in between her unsuccessful attempts at stealing the rest of the table’s pickled radish. “We were walking to the lounge and she saw him and waved at him, and he finally waved back.”

“Oh what, after ignoring her for a whole semester? Real nice of him. My best friend deserves better!” She declared, aggressively taking another bite of her chicken before continuing. “If I weren’t already dating the best man in the whole world, I would just date you myself.”

This brought the rest of the table another fit of laughter. It was never a dull moment in your friend group and you were always grateful that you had them in your life. 

“This just in, Krys won’t leave big dick Wonwoo so her best friend can have a good relationship.” Mar joked, cackling at the thought. The laughter seemed to get worse when she realized that Wonwoo himself had just walked up to the table to set down a drink refill for Binu. The male’s face was flushed red, obviously having heard the conversation. Which prompted another round of joyful laughter from the group.

It was a good night, but your mind still drifted back to Jihoon, who was most likely still sitting alone in the studio, hungry yet still hard at work. As the conversation drifted away from you finally, you got Wonwoo’s attention and ordered a small meal for take out with a plan to deliver the food before returning home. Even if Krys would give you shit for it.

***

“Jihoon, it’s me” You knocked on the studio door as you entered, assuming you wouldn’t be interrupting anything since you saw the light on but heard now sounds from inside. Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, you got no response as you entered. Simply making your way in despite any acknowledgement.

The more surprising thing was what you found once you entered. There, still sitting in the rolly chair with his head firmly planted on the desk in front of his work laptop was Lee Jihoon. Fast asleep, small snores leaving his frame as he dreamed. It would honestly be pretty cute if it weren’t for the fact that you knew this was probably happening because of how much he overworked himself. 

You let out a small sigh, placing the bag on the small coffee table in the room (you didn’t want to set it on the desk with all the equipment) and grabbed his jacket that he had tossed onto the nearby sofa before draping it over his shoulders. You couldn’t really do much more for him without lifting the male up and transferring him to the couch, and you were pretty sure he would wake up if you even attempted that. 

“Night Jihoon.” With that final goodbye you exited the room and returned back to your dorm to get some homework done for a few of your other classes.

It was about 2:30 the next morning when your phone vibrated, indicating a message. Sparing a glance to the device you read the familiar name ‘Lee Jihoon’ as the sender. The message was no more than a simple “Thank you.” but that was good enough for you.

***

As you expected, even being the harmony vocals for the song Jihoon’s talent far outshined your main vocals. You weren’t upset or anything, but you were definitely starting to regret letting him talk you into the main vocal position for this project. You didn’t even really have any commentary to or feedback to give him. His voice fit the song perfectly and you could feel the emotion in his words as he sang. 

When he exited the booth and took a seat on the sofa to take a break you spoke up.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one leading the song?” You questioned, head tilted to the side a bit as you watched him gulp down a bottle of water. Your words took him off guard and he fixed you with a rather confused look, so you continued. “I mean, you have such a great voice and I really think you capture the emotion in the song better than I do. So like…”

“What are you talking about?” He cut off your ramblings before you could continue, his eyes staring intently into your own. “You have an amazing voice, I’m literally blown away anytime you step into the booth. It’s part of the reason I was glad we got partnered for this project.”

It was almost as if your brain had short circuited, you didn’t know what to say. He had never spoken about your singing like that before, much less admit that he was...glad you were his partner. A part of you worried that he was lying just to spare your feelings, but the logical part knew that Jihoon wasn’t someone who would waste the energy to do that. 

“Let me put it this way,” he began again. “If I didn’t think you were doing a good job, if i thought your vocals would get us points docked off, then I wouldn’t have let you sing the Main. Got it?” His gaze seemed to pierce right to your very soul and you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue back and decided to just take his word for it. So you simply nodded a response.

It seemed that Jihoon wasn’t done surprising you tonight, as a smile so tender made its way onto his face. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes, you could feel the heat rushing to your face and you prayed that he couldn’t hear the loud throbbing of your heart as he watched you. 

The moment was soon broken by the loud blaring of a familiar pop song, Jihoon’s face dropping at the sound. He quickly grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and put it up to his ear. You decided to be polite and at least try not to listen in, pulling out your own phone and messaging the group chat to see what was up.

“What do you want, Mingyu?” He began, definitely sounding more irritated than before he had taken the call. You couldn’t hear the voice on the other end but from the gumbling that left Jihoon’s lips you wouldn’t have been surprised if his roommate was pushing his buttons for whatever reason.

“No. I’m not and you need to stop asking. I’m working right now.” He paused for a moment, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as if that would make you unable to hear him. “Yes, she’s here too, so stop asking. Mingy-” He groaned as the male on the other end seemed to cut him off, you weren’t too sure with what but now you could vaguely hear the loud voice of his roommate on the line and couldn’t help laughing softly. The sound causing Jihoon’s eyes to flicker over to you, causing your heart to skip a beat as you quickly tried to make it seem like you were just laughing at something on your phone. 

“Shut it. We’ll talk when I get home...yes i’m coming back tonight!” With an irritated sigh, Jihoon ended the call. You weren’t sure he gave Mingyu any time to give a farewell but if you were being honest the conversation had been pretty amusing. 

Setting his phone down on the couch, Jihoon let out a sigh and ran a hand through his thick black locks. A silence falling over the two of you as you typed away on your phone, trying not to make eye contact again. You were so engrossed with your act you didn’t even hear when Jihoon stood from the couch and made his way over to the chair you were currently occupying. 

“Before we call it, could you re-record from the bridge to the end. When I was editing it last night there was some feedback so I wanted to get a better recording.”

“Oh, um yeah sure!” You weren’t sure why he hadn’t mentioned that before, and you didn’t recall hearing any feedback from your vocals when he was recording. But still, you took him at his word and entered the small recording booth once again. 

“I’ll start from just before the bridge.” He said over the speakers once your headphones were pulled snuggly over your ears. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath before nodding and signaling him to start.

“I really like you a lot But do you think we can’t be together? I feel small in my school uniform skirt Looking big on me, Yeah The tall, pretty girls are all around you.  Oh whoa~”

Getting through the bridge you poured your emotions into it. Thinking about your feelings for Jihoon and the longing for him to feel the same for you. Honestly, through this whole process the song the two of you had written was so...cathartic for you. Expressing things you never verbalized, how despite your attempts Jihoon never really spoke to you outside of class but he always seemed so kind when you were working. Or how, because of his looks and his talent he seemed to be surrounded by girls who thought he was wonderful. 

“If you like me, or you love me Just say yes, yes, yes And then I’m your girlfriend And your my boyfriend Tell me you like me.”

The last few chords streamed through your headphones and a silence fell over the room. Just as you were about to take the headphones off you heard a voice come through, the familiar voice of your partner and crush.

“I like you...a lot.” 

You froze like a deer in headlights, almost positive that you had misheard him. Eyes quickly landing on him, watching him through the glass. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but through the tint you could see the soft pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears as his eyes stared down at the desk.

“Don’t say anything. I just...wanted to let you know. The reason I didn’t want to sing the main vocals is because I was worried you would be able to tell.” He continued, eyes still not lifting from the table to meet your gaze. “All of the lyrics I added were about you. I just...changed the pronouns.” 

It was unbelievable to think that Lee Jihoon could possibly love you back. He was too...wonderful, and the fact that the both of you had used this song to express those feelings was almost unreal. 

Thinking back on it, on all the interactions you had attempted to have with him outside of class. You realized that he wasn’t ignoring you, his eyes had always met your own but he was just uncertain.  He had lacked the confidence to speak to you despite your obvious interest in him. It made your pinning seem silly now. 

You still honored his wishes and said nothing, simply taking the headphones off and draping them onto the music stand before exiting the booth. Stopping right next to the object of your affections.

“Jihoon, look at me? Please?” Hesitantly, his gaze turned to you and he looked flustered, more flustered than you had ever seen him. “I like you too, a whole lot.” 

Your words had his eyes lighting up, a look of disbelief crossing his face as you continued.

“Could I...would it be alright if I kiss you?” Before today, you had only ever imagined kissing Jihoon. What it would be like had been nothing more than a small fantasy that you thought about, but seeing him nod looking away still flustered, it almost seemed to good to be anything more than a dream. 

Hesitantly, you reached out a hand to caress his cheek, your heart speeding up as he lifted a hand to press over your own. When your lips met, it was like the stars had aligned. 

It wasn’t a perfect kiss, it was shy and soft but the emotion you felt simply from his lips pressing back against your own was enough to cause your heart to soar. It was like two puzzle pieces finding one another how well his lips felt against your own. You decided in that moment that he would get to hear everyday how much you absolutely loved him, he would never need to ask or hesitate again. Cause that’s what kind of love you wanted to give him, and all you needed to do was say it. 

[mimiplaysgames]

Drink Me

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 6,601

Summary: Aqua drinks a truth potion... Now they're going to have to talk about things.

Read on AO3

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!! This is part of an art/fic trade that I'm doing with Moe (@terraswill on Twitter)!! I was so excited to work on this but it was also just... so hard?? We agreed on the trade back in June I think, and it took me this long. xD The timing was perfect though, and when they post their art, I'll edit this to include a link! Moe asked for was something domestic and fluffy (and I'm totally the wrong person to ask but I never back from a challenge dkfjkfjgf), and maybe give Aqua a reason to play a prank. We support a Let Aqua Have Fun 2021 agenda in this house. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. To my angst readers, I hope you find something here you like anyway lmao

~*~*~*~*~

She says she’s annoyed with me because I won’t let her dust the tapestry. Or rather, I won’t let her have her

way

and take on this ugly monstrosity (which I think is supposed to depict an ancient Keyblade Master who died four-hundred years ago; at this point, the threads are too faded to give him a defined face). 

The truth has more layers than that, something I don’t like to talk about. But it’s a clear day, the sun beaming through our windows and igniting the castle in golden hues. I won’t find the time to mope when Aqua is beckoning me to give her the feather duster. 

Aqua is a lot shorter than me. I pretend to give it to her, only to swerve it around her face and hang it up high above her head. I’ve got a smirk to last me hours, and there’s a sly one pulling on her lips. 

“Maybe if you jump,” I say, wiggling it. 

She doesn’t move. “Terra.”

I pull it up higher. “Come get it.”

“Or you could stop trying to overcompensate and let me help you.”

“Who says that’s what I’m doing?” That’s exactly what I’m doing. Any chance I get, I’ll do it all to make up for lost years. If she says she’ll tidy the garden tomorrow, I’ll rip the weeds by dawn. If she wants to prepare a feast, I’ll organize the ingredients, the recipes, the appliances. I call it helping out. She calls it ridiculous. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. Yep.

“It’s not like you could reach the top anyway,” I say, knowing this is precisely what would set her off.

Aqua likes to present herself as proper: head tall, ankles together. But when I push her buttons, that’s the first mask to melt off. She lunges at me, chest to chest, aiming for the duster that’s balancing on the tips of my fingers, my elbow locked and shoulder riding as high as it can, as if I’m trying to clean the ceiling. We’re giggling, we’re tight, we’re children all over again.

“Give it,” she says, her eyebrows and lips twisted in feverish concentration. She’d never let anyone else see her behave this way. 

“What are you doing?” She steps onto my shoes to gain height and I have to wrap my free arm around her waist to keep our balance (not that I’d complain if she ends up landing on top of me). My heart is pounding stupid rhythms at the smell of her shampoo. I don’t like sweet, but I like it on her. 

“Master’s orders. Give it to me.” 

“Try harder.”

She inhales sharply, giving me that Aqua look. Fine. She turns her head towards the tapestry and puckers her lips together, blowing air as if blowing out a candle. The layer of dust that sits at the very top bursts, sprinkling the console table beneath it. 

In my shock, she snatches the feather duster, the quietest Hmm of satisfaction coming out loud enough to demand my audience. She taps the tapestry with a flat laundry bat, all while waving her hand over the surface of the table, the dust collecting itself as if swirled by a magnetic tornado. 

No use for the duster at all.

“You think you’re clever,” I say, getting close behind her. 

“I think you agree.”

I think she’s pretending. Her smile looks the same but it’s manufactured, tied to a puppeteer’s strings. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells me she doesn’t agree at all. I’m prepared to tell her that she’s assured and confident, but she already knows. This happens: I’ll catch a sudden recognition dawning on her face, like she’s reminding herself of something, and I’m left to guess what it could be.

We’re interrupted by a loud sneeze that drifts from the other side of the hall, followed by a hack and a cough, finishing with a sniffle. 

She’s panicked. It sounds like a case of the common cold, and nothing to be worried about, but that’s Aqua. I follow her lead, which takes us to no one else but Ven, who is wiping his face. A faint trace of dust rides on the strands of his hair. Actually, there’s dust everywhere except on the tapestry he’s responsible for. 

“Ven!” Aqua gapes. “What happened here?”

He takes a look around the chaos and gives a mere shrug, rubbing the back of his hand on his pants. “I was dusting.”

“You were using magic,” she says like she’s scolding him, despite doing the same minutes ago.

“What did you expect me to do?” He gestures towards the tapestry—the Master’s favorite, of a round cat lounging on a throne and announcing a toast with his goblet—like it’s a mountain to climb. “Get a ladder?”

“What a mess,” Aqua mutters with a flitter of her fingers, shepherding the dust together so it’s easier to collect. 

“I’m not finished.”

“Master’s orders,” I say and Aqua doesn’t spare me a glare. Yes, I find that funny.

Ven ushers her aside. “Come on, let me help.”

“I got it,” she says, fixated on the job. Always the one to do and still can’t learn to accept a helping hand.

“Aqua.”

“Ven?”

I know better than to get in the middle of this.

Ven generates gusts of air with a wave of both of his arms—a terrible idea when Aqua’s conducting from the other side—and the dust grows darker into a thick cloud of smoke. He stares at his handiwork with a dropped jaw. I’m shocked too. Where did all of that come from?

Aqua grunts as she tries to calm the storm, Ven mimicking her movements.

“Let it go,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“It will all fall to the floor.”

“There’s too much pressure building up from the bottom.”

“It’s under control.”

“It’s going to explode.”

She pouts (stars, it’s cute) but of course, only half-listens to me. Moving her palms parallel to the floor, she makes a gesture as if to compress. With Ven slacking, it billows low to the floor and then sweeps up.

The tapestry flaps upward, revealing a door.

Ven’s the first to cough. “What’s that?”

Aqua and I stare at each other. We’ve hidden behind every single one of these tapestries when we played as kids. There shouldn’t be a door.

“Do you think it’s magic leftover from—” I start to ask.

She shakes her head. “It can’t be. I returned everything to its rightful place.”

“Then what is this supposed to mean?” 

Discouraged by our hushed tones, Ven stops himself from turning the knob, waiting for our approval.

“It could have been hidden by a spell,” Aqua suggests.

“Oh.” 

We’re quiet. Spells last for as long as the spellcaster is alive.

“The Master would have called it an inheritance,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

One by one, we peek into the secret room. Ven is eager to open the door but only pushes it a sliver. It creaks with determination to wake everyone inside. Aqua is second, looking over him. I’m last, searching the corners for signs of movement. 

It’s empty except for a rack of white robes, stacks of books on a desk, a chess board, and a forest-colored couch. On the opposite wall sits a huge wardrobe next to a reading stand, displaying an open tome on what may have been the last page the Master read. An old-fashioned wall clock with visible parts and spinning characters counts the time, looking peculiarly like the Land of Departure. The sun shines through a window—though this would be an extra. All the windows on both sides of the castle are accounted for. You wouldn’t be able to see this room from the outside. 

“Terra,” Aqua gasps, “look at these books.”

Most of them are titled in an ancient language. “They’re from Scala.”

“We could probably find Sora with these,” she says, flipping through one.

Some of the robes are sewn with patches of snake skin, others stained with faded off-yellow, each a varying size for a growing teenager. I take the largest—it smells like dust—and slip it on. Almost a perfect fit, though I would’ve preferred it longer.

“It looks good on you,” Aqua says, coming to my side.

I smile at the floor, imagining what the Master would have said, how large his smile would have been under that bushy mustache, like the day he gave me his belt buckle and told me it would be a nice touch. Aqua inspects a fraying seam on the shoulder.

“I can fix that,” she whispers. I let her pull it off me, and she dotingly folds it over the book she decides to take with her. 

“Whoa.”

We drop our thoughts and turn to Ven, who’s helped himself to the wardrobe, stupefied at shelves of potions in glass flasks. Ugly colors, weirdly shaped, totally bizarre. 

“These aren’t any potions I recognize,” Aqua says, placing her stack on the couch and investigating the shelf with her arms crossed. 

None of them are labeled. “Maybe they’re lost knowledge,” I say, still thinking about her compliment. How often does she think I look good? “Can you imagine what kind of magic they’re packed with?”

Ven glances at the open book on the reading stand. “Let’s see.”

I join him, watching him flip through crudely drawn illustrations of odd shapes. We both snigger.

“Look through walls,” he reads before turning to the next page. “Neverending sweat. Turn a face blue. Glue lips together… This one says you can unglue them by washing your mouth with soap.”

“Lost knowledge.” Aqua scoffs.

“But who made them?” I ask. “The Master?”

Aqua rolls her eyes. “Please.”

“This is his secret room.”

“It looks like his handwriting,” Ven says, trying to keep his smile tiny. Trying. “Kind of.”

The O’s and the T’s certainly have their curls, just the way Eraqus would have done them. The Y’s are similar too, if a bit exaggerated and large. As Ven turns more pages, all of which are yellowed and chipped at the edges, I realize the drawings match the shapes of different vials, equipped with descriptions of colors. 

“I think Ven’s right.”

Aqua throws a look (Forget it) and rolls her eyes again. It’s her favorite thing to do. “We’re talking about the Master here. He wouldn’t waste his time on something like this.”

“I got an idea!” Ven beams, nudging me on the elbow. “Why don’t we try some? Guess what they are before we look in the book?”

The only person who stiffens is Aqua. 

“Look at her face.” Ven points. “She thinks we’re savages.”

Aqua doesn’t say anything, but it’s possible. 

I cock my head. “If the Master were here, he would have gotten a kick out of this.”

“Terra—”

“Regardless of who made them.” 

She drums her fingers on her forearm. “If it makes you happy,” she mumbles. It was subtle, but it was there.

“I’ll go first!” Ven leaps over the reading stand. There’s a rainbow of the most unsavory colors. The neon, the dull, the too realistic. “This one looks perfect.” He grabs a thin vial of liquid that I could mistake for vomit: a faded, rotten lime green, and drinks it all in one swish.

Following the last gulp, he withers to the floor, flailing and begging for it to stop.

I’m searching through the book for an answer.

Aqua throws herself to her knees. “What’s wrong?”

Ven giggles, cradling his stomach then scratching his back. “Don’t touch me.” He gasps in between painful howls of laughter. “It makes it worse.”

She carries his head to her lap anyway. She wouldn’t be Aqua if she isn’t indulging in some deep-seated instinct to assume we’re not healthy before assuring herself that we are. 

I tap my finger onto a page. “Tickling potion. ‘Give this to your favorite person,’ it says.”

“I’m going”—Ven inhales—“to bring the Master”—inhales again—“back to life just to… kill him again.” He deteriorates into another round of wheezing, hugging himself tight and turning over into a fetal position.

“It’s too juvenile for the Master,” Aqua reminds me.

This page is written with the same suspicious calligraphy but I hold my tongue. To ease the look of worry on Aqua’s face, I step forward. “My turn.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aqua says.

“Relax. There’s no such thing as death by tickling.”

Aqua jerks to say something but stops herself. I’m guessing, Let me have at it and you’d think otherwise. Nothing that she’d say with Ven in the room.

Ven rubs his eyes and sighs—it’s shaky and long, but it’s an improvement. “Can I try another one?”

The first potion to catch my attention is this wide, stubby one filled with what looks like dark mud. 

“Terra.” 

Her warning makes me think of the slight possibility of developing diarrhea from this. I stare into her eyes as I swallow a gulp of it anyway, much to her horror and much to my enjoyment. Her expressions are a never-ending list of entertainment. 

The potion is too smooth to be mud. It tastes spicy, a kick without any flavor. At first, I don’t feel anything, until a zap of electricity rides up my spine. Gooseflesh covers the backs of my calves up to my neck.

By the time I realize that I’m shivering, Aqua has my face in her hands. Her fingertips are warm when she brushes my hair.

“I’m fine.” A white cloud puffs out of my lips. 

Ven is cackling. Not from the tickling, that may have stopped as soon as he got distracted, but he’s pointing his finger at me.

“As fine as a monkey walking naked into the snow,” she quips, wrapping the robe around my shoulders and rubbing my biceps. 

“You can’t say, I told you so,” I say, my voice reverberating. “You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“I know you don’t regret it.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

She scoffs, smirking. Her eyes drop to some faraway conversation with herself.

“What are you thinking?” My teeth clatter. 

She raises her eyebrows, playing coy. 

“Whoever made this freezing potion,” Ven interrupts, having dragged himself to the book and is now leaning on it with both hands to stay stable, “wanted to test it. See if it could preserve vital organs.” He slowly nods (as if anything in this book makes sense). 

“I guess we’ll find out if it worked when I die.” The tremors hurt, rupturing in blows down my torso. Aqua mutters a spell and a fiery glow halos her hands, hovering near my skin. My own personal hearth. I can’t help but imagine doing the same for her one day. 

“Anyone else want to take a crack at it or should I drink another one?” Ven says.

Aqua glances over her shoulder and is actually considering it . 

“No way,” I say.

She ignores me, reading each bottle as though they’d spill their secrets.

I lean towards her ear, though she’s already swatting me away. “Do you need help choosing one?”

She grabs a curvy vial that looks like it has hips and is filled to the brim with pure white. Defiantly turning to stick her nose up at me, she proudly drinks (a sip), grimacing through the taste. But she keeps tall. As long as the nose stays up.

“Oh shit,” Ven mutters.

“Language,” I say.

We wait for the effect. Nothing happens. 

“What do you feel?” I ask.

“Nothing. I feel normal.”

“You’re a liar,” Ven says, throwing pages and scanning pictures, then rustling back to see if he skipped any.

“I am not. Maybe it’s expired.” As soon as she says it, her eyes go wide.

“That doesn’t make any sense. We had immediate effects. Maybe you should drink some more?”

“Don’t be silly.” Aqua shuts the bottle with its topper and gently places it back in its spot. “This was a foolish game, anyway.” 

I have to scoff—that’s harsh, even coming from Aqua. “Then why go for it?”

“Because I admire you so much, Terra, when you’re brave enough to go after something I wouldn’t come near. Because I have to match you, maybe outmatch you sometimes, if you get on my nerves. Because sometimes I get scared that I’ve missed out on so much, and I can’t help but wonder if our childhood may be missing something. After everything we’ve lost, I don’t want to be scared of being silly anymore. But… What if I’m a boring slog? I don’t want to be a bore. I want to be daring and fun like you and Ven,” she says in rapid tossed word salad, her hands getting animated the more she talks, pressed to answer questions we didn’t ask.

Ven and I have nothing to say.

“I…” Aqua fusses with her sleeves. “I don’t know why I unloaded all of that.”

“Dramatic, much?” Ven says.

She fists her hips. “Dramatic is when you whine about your dreams so you can avoid chores thinking I wouldn’t call your bluff.”

Ven gapes. “Aqua, you’re mean.”

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She hides her face behind her hands, taking them to her heart and bowing. “Ven, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Something weird is going on.” I take the helm at searching the book, shuffling pages in chunks until I find one with stark white paint, in the shape of curves and waves. “Ven,” I whisper when I read the description. When he looks at me, his impish smile stretches with lists of ideas. I’m right there with him.

A stuffy silence fills the room when we recite it: Truth potion. The person who drinks it cannot help but to answer questions honestly. 

Aqua steps back. 

She bolts out of the room, knocking some of the books over. 

“Get her!” Ven yells.

My muscles protest when I take off, stiff and sluggish as though I’ve experienced a whole winter outside. Aqua dashes through an open doorway and thrusts her arm out. The doors slam together, refusing to let me through. Ven’s going to have to find another way around. This won’t stop me and she knows it. I slip through a growing portal of darkness—the swirls that lick me would have been cold, but I’m numb—and I come out the other side. There’s certain tricks that come from being the poster boy for Darkness; it’s helpful in fights.

This part of the castle leads to the common areas. I know where she’ll be.

Aqua is splitting her attention between mixing batter in a large wooden bowl and running a soapy dishwash in the kitchen sink. When I approach her, she makes a point to put her finger on her lips.

Stars, it’s so hard not to laugh. “You’re not going to—”

She grunts, shaking her head furiously at me. No questions. 

With my elbows propped on the countertop, I watch her scrub a dish. More than she normally does, actually, a little therapy session to take her mind off the fact that I’m relishing this moment. It’s satisfying how she suddenly remembers that she’s heating the oven, throwing herself across the kitchen to check the temperature.

She points to the spice cupboard next to me, and gets more enthusiastic when I open it. Apparently, she wants the cinnamon. 

“I think vinegar would help better with what you’re doing.” I nod my head to the sink. 

With the flick of her hand, water pouring out of the faucet changes direction and splashes me in the face.

“Am I annoying?” I snigger. I had to.

A tick in her shoulders—her body has no choice but to react. “That’s a stupid question.” Every word is pulled out of her teeth. Normally, she’d say, No, how could you even imagine that!

I dip my finger into the suds and plant one large print on her forehead in between the eyes, where she’s glaring so hard, they are crossed.

“How about now?”

“The worst,” she groans, slamming her hands into the bath. She takes a washcloth to dry them and wipes her forehead. Afterwards, she hands it to me. 

“Think of it as an opportunity to get to know the real you.” I dry my face. 

“You know me already.”

“Do I know everything, though?”

“No.” This potion doesn’t miss a beat.

Ven is panting by the time he enters, climbing a stool behind the counter and peering over the edge like a small child. He’s doing that on purpose, goading her into playing along. He asks me, “Can we?”

She groans.

I’m back on my elbows so I can look up at her and give her the same puppy dog eyes. Between glancing at the two of us, she can’t stand it. She wants to make us happy, she’s always been like that. Then again, she probably also wants to bash our heads together and leave us with headaches. One of the two would amuse her better. 

“How about we ask her three questions only? We shouldn’t drive her crazy.”

She chuckles, that little smile of hers growing and reassuring and there. That’s my girl. Turning off the sink, she folds the washcloth and brings her hands together as though we’re in class. “Three questions each. Is that okay?”

Wow. “More than I asked for.” 

“I already have one,” Ven says, sitting on his knees. “Do you hate Lea?”

“A little. But I’m working on it.”

Ven snorts and drops his face onto the counter. How many times have we asked her that and got the, Don’t be ridiculous. Like I said, he’s formidable. “I knew it.”

“He does his missions with the least amount of effort possible. Takes the easiest route to build his technique. Efficiency, he calls it,” she says, letting out the hot pressure she’s been keeping to herself with relief. “He also calls me, Teach. Who does that?”

Of all the times I’ve expected Aqua to snap at someone, she holds herself back when it comes to Lea, giving him tight smiles to zip it all up. “Ouch,” I say. “He’s been working so hard on a gift to thank you for working with Isa.”

She grimaces. “At least he has good taste in men? Isa does have a respectable work ethic.” 

I pat her hand. Aqua’s usually the one to blow the kettle first, but there’s ways to connect people who may not see eye to eye the first time. Maybe I can be a buffer. “Next time you meet, I could go with you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she whispers. 

“Lea would find it hilarious, honestly.” Ven waves his hand as if it’s no big deal. “I bet he’d give you a note with your gift. It would say, Thanks for everything. I hate you, too, Teach .”

“Okay, my turn,” I say, resting my chin on my palm. She studies me, too, though I’d like to believe I could keep a poker face. “Do you sometimes steal my cologne?”

“Yes.”

Her bluntness throws me back. “To wear ?”

“Yes,” she says as though it’s obvious and crosses her arms. Duh.

“Hey, that’s two questions,” Ven says. 

“Sorry.” I take one more glance to see if I could gleam any more clues from her facial expressions, but she keeps her nose high. As long as the nose stays up.

“I have to think of a really good one.” Ven holds his chin, looking more serious than he’s been since the Keyblade War. “Ever farted then blamed Terra for it?”

“Ugh.” Aqua quivers, her knuckles bleaching. She throws her face over her shoulder and stares scars into the wall. “Yes of course, didn’t we all?” 

“Come on, I could’ve answered that,” I say (though after all these years, it’s validating to know it’s not a blame game anymore). I nudge her with my shoulder. “Justice does feel pretty good.”

“Ask me something better,” she says after smacking my bicep. Her face is as ripe as sunburn. 

Questions that give her more control. I could do that. “Is there anything you’ve been needing to say but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

The tension in her face drops. It leaves something pale and disappointed in its place, a faraway look. I shouldn’t have asked; whatever this fear is, it’s meant for me. “Yes,” she whispers.

I stand pin-straight, the air in the room thinning, as though the Darkness has opened a hole and is sucking all the sun away. Ven does the same. The other Keybearers will stare at their cuticles, or fumble and cut themselves out of the group when they’re upset or hurt or sorry. Eraqus forged a protocol out of us. When we witness or cause harm, we recite what we’ve done and its effects. We bow when we apologize. 

So far, we’ve been home for one hundred and seventy five days. Never expected it to take this long. I open my mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” she says softly. “I know what you’re going to ask.”

I would have pleaded with her to let me apologize, and I would have met her dismissal anyway: No, Terra, it’s not necessary. We’ve been through it all. We should enjoy what we have. She means well; the relaxation and the mundane tasks are good for all of us. Even when we were younger, Aqua was generous at her expense, sparing nuts from her brownie to bake them into a tarte, knowing I hate brownies. She’d look at the brighter side of things (More fudge for me!), and stick her tongue out. She’s been my smile, but she gives too much, and we still need this conversation.

“So what is the answer?”

She lowers her eyes to the counter, then wills them back up at me. “I blame myself.”

Aqua.

Ven sighs. “I should give you guys some space.” He treads away, keeping his footsteps minimal, meticulously turning the handle so it’d make the least noise possible. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I see him press his ear against the door before it shuts. If he’s going to listen in, that’s fine with me. Whatever she and I have to say to each other would affect all three of us.

“You blame—”

“I would be… lying.” She simpers, shaking her head. “If I said I never blamed you. There were moments I did. How and why. But I had enough endless nights where those reasons circled back to me. What I could have done to make it better. To save you,” she croaks, wiping her eyes. “To be a best friend. You needed that. Ven needed one, too. And I wasn’t.”

Aqua scrubs the already-clean counter with that dry washcloth, creating a rhythm that fills the silence. The oven is now heated, and I take the cinnamon and pour two spoonfuls of it into a beaker, our backs to each other. Add cups of sugar for her, some cocoa, a pinch of vanilla while she drills the grouts in between the tiles.

“I wasn’t much of a best friend myself, either.”

“You were hurt and defeated.”

“I was stupid.”

“You are not.”

I scoff, reaching over and pausing her. My smile is meant to be gentle, but it feels so plastic. “Aqua, do you think I’m stupid?”

“I don’t.”

I’ve expected her to half-smirk, where she tells me, Sometimes. “Really?”

“You overthink,” she simply puts. “But you assume the best. You know, that makes you a better person than me.”

Ha. No. “No. I’m not better than you. Not by a long shot.”

She hums. “I’m just correct more often.”

“But I left you.”

“And I kicked your trust in me in the shins. Are we going to keep count of all the unfriendly things we’ve done? How different would it have been if I didn’t accuse you of things that weren’t true?”

“How different would it be if I had just stayed with you?” I realize I shouldn’t have asked the moment I finish.

In a trance, Aqua inspects the beaker with the spices and sugars I’ve concocted, deciding what I’d done is good enough and dumping them into her unmixed dough, stirring, giving her hands something to do, while I wait for the onslaught. “Probably avoided the last twelve years.” I wince. “Or it could have made no difference. We could have ended up the same, or worse, or better.”

I say, “You don’t believe that,” before stopping myself.

“I was taught to respect Xehanort, too.” 

“We were taught to recognize the Darkness.”

“Which I also failed at.”

“Clearly.”

“I did. I looked for it inside you where I should have placed my faith instead. I regret every moment I did.” She puts the bowl down, a slap of wood against marble. “We don’t help ourselves by obsessing about it a million times.”

“But you’d help me if you let me apologize. To you especially.”

She whips around with nothing to retort, fresh tears short of falling. “To me especially?”

“Ven deserves something of his own. Please.”

She drops her hands together. Swallows. Nods. 

I bow, watching droplets land near my shoes. “I should have been there for you. I should have been stronger. I should have realized what was happening sooner, and I thought I did. I thought I did what I could, and I was there with you in the Graveyard, but it wasn’t enough, and for all the years I didn’t know, I should have found a way to learn and pay you back for what you’ve sacrificed for me. I should have eased your pain, I should have brought you back to the Light. I was focused on myself when I should have lifted you up, and I disappeared when you needed me most. I should have done more, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

Silence passes the time and I look up to see what she thinks. She’s wetting the washcloth, dabbing my eyes. “Do you feel better?” she asks.

“Kind of.” I’m beat up after taking all those shots, but I’m lighter, free to breathe without the nagging suspicion that I don’t deserve to. 

“One of the things I wished for when I was in the Realm of Darkness was to smell sugar again. I wanted to hear you give me a list of reasons why it’s bad for my body, and I wanted to tell you why it’s good for the heart.” I let her dab my cheeks, the dampness frigid against my skin. “Now that I’m back home, I don’t need any other wish granted.” She sniffs, about to pour the batter into its mold, but then flicks the oven off exasperatedly. “I forgot. I have to wait for the dough to rise.” For some reason that finally breaks her. It tears me apart as well, and I have to hold her shoulder so we don’t rip down the middle. 

“Please don’t cry,” I say, offering the washcloth. “I care too much about you to sit here and watch you cry.”

She stops. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” I let go and stare at her blended mix, smooth as cream. 

“That’s not fair,” she says, throwing the washcloth onto the counter. “I have no choice with what I say. You could at least answer me honestly.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you cry anymore.” Nor do I want to tell her the truth. Instead I hide it on the back of my neck, where I rub into it so it doesn’t spill over. And yet, that makes me feel more guilty now than I have in weeks. 

“I should make you swallow a truth potion.”

“I wanted us to be equals.” She saves her usual response and waits for me to continue. I close my eyes. “Go through all the same experiences with you. We were supposed to stick together, do everything together. Failing the Mark of Mastery took all of that away from me. Or at least it felt that way at the time. And I wanted more. I wanted…” My hand finds nothing as it waves in the air searching for the words to spell it out. “I don’t know what to say. Everything I’ve done and didn’t do pale in comparison to you.”

“We’re not doing this. We’re not comparing ourselves.”

“No, I mean…” What the stars am I supposed to say? “You’re more important to me than you understand.”

“And you’re just as important to me.”

“No… it’s different with me.” And I’ve said too much, Aqua holding her elbows and expecting me to continue. There’s no other trail to go down than the one I’ve started. “I meant what I said at the preliminary feast.”

“Excuse me?”

The feast where the Master celebrated our achievements, announcing that we’re at last ready for the final test. Where Ven and I squeezed ourselves into suits and he complained the entire night about being itchy. Where I spent it staring at her dress. When I said she looked pretty and then avoided her for the rest of the party.

I don’t say anything about that night and she hears something anyway.

“That’s why…” She glosses over me with wide eyes as the realization makes me look like a stranger. “You should have said something to me.”

“You can’t be serious.” I wave her away.

“But all these years, I didn’t know.”

Good, if we’re talking about the same thing. “I couldn’t have told you anything.”

“Then how was I supposed to figure that out?”

What are we talking about now? “What exactly did you expect me to do?” 

“You should have kissed me.” She covers her mouth, wincing at what slipped out. She keeps her chin high anyway, casually crossing her arms and pretending that her face hasn’t reddened the deep shade staining her cheeks. As long as it stays up.

We pass an unspoken conversation between each other, frozen and unwilling to move.

Did you just—?

I did.

I manage to exhale. “You’re right.”

There’s a moment of shock on her face before I hold her and lean forward. It happens so quick that I don’t register what she tastes like before I realize that I’m clamping my hands on her biceps, two bent rods leaning on each other.

“That was awful,” I say.

“No, it’s—” she laughs.

“Bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I always thought it’d go different.”

“Always?”

Well, I’ve run out of words. “I guess.” When I let her go, she reaches for my chest and lifts onto her toes, kissing me back but with care and intention this time, filling my lips with hers. They taste like Aqua, smell like her shampoo. They’re softer than her hands and face, sweet enough for me to want more. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my hands until I settle them in the sway of her back. I let her take the lead, take another kiss, tug at my neck. She trembles from the frozen touch of my skin and from the hold of my hands on her body. My muscles are getting warm, too warm but I like it and I think she knows. Earlier this morning, I held her this close, but this is closer. It’s easy and difficult at the same time. 

Then I remember and pull away. “Ven is listening to us.”

There’s a bump on the door as it’s pushed when he kicks himself off, heavy footsteps running down the hall. 

Aqua looks like she’s touched feces. “Ven!”

I follow her, wondering if she’s going to summon her Keyblade but that’s because of how fast she’s walking, like she has a mission, no Heartless left standing. We turn a corner, down a hall of antique vases and ancient cupboards carved from our first masters. Wood creaks nearby. 

She holds her palm up like she’s holding a chalice, and flames lick the cupboard closest to us until it rattles and spits Ven out. He scrambles onto his feet and brandishes his finger, testing our distance as if he’d poke us in a duel. 

“I still have my last question and it’s in your best interest not to threaten me.”

“Oh really? Tell me again how you’re going to protect yourself when you sleep,” she says.

He grounds himself before giving his performance of, “Do you want to see Terra naked?”

Aqua trembles from her head to her knees, her cheeks blotting a strong shot of red. She throttles forward and cups both of her hands onto her mouth like she’s going to sneeze. What sounds like a loud goose honk blows out as the answer. 

“That was awesome.” Ven slaps his thigh, turning on his heel and leaving a trail of giggles. 

I’m scared to say anything, in case she honks at me. So I wait. There’s just no way to make myself seem small, or leave without disturbing her. Maybe if I hold my breath, she’d feel like she has privacy. She’s panting, giving me side glances but never looking directly at me, that nose of hers wilting towards the floor. 

I open my mouth to say something—

She growls and I clutch my lips together. Aqua pulls her Gummiphone out of her pocket, jabbing a message.

Mine rings. 

 Aqua

Let’s find a potion that dyes his hair pink

 She clears her throat, before flipping it over and typing again.

 Aqua

Don’t tell him it was my idea

 “Okay,” I say, testing the word. Even though I soften it, it still bangs like a gong. I don’t know what else to do except smile at her. She grimaces back, no doubt the last several words spoken still ringing in her ears, just as they do in mine. I even hesitate when I hold her elbow—would it ever be the same, or will every touch mean something different? I don’t voice those questions. 

She moves by reflex: first to flinch, then to hold me by my elbow, mirroring me, which isn’t the most comfortable position. She follows my forearm to my hand, knitting our fingers together, and we stand there, adjusting how they fit. Mine are long and thick, dwarfing and burying hers, an oversized pouch for a gem. They fit perfectly, I think. 

“We can find something better,” I say, looking for anything to distract her. “There’s also those books to read, and the robe to fix. The brownies you’re making—”

“It’s supposed to be cinnamon bread,” she mumbles.

Yech. “Nothing I’d eat anyway.”

Her chuckle is partial, contorted and pressed. 

“I can make some beef jerky for everyone. Spice it up,” I say. She hides an amused whimper behind her hand and massages her cheek. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

She nods, offering me a relieved but crooked smile. 

I don’t know if we should walk the castle hand in hand, so I splay it between her shoulder blades and lead the way. We walk in silence, and I’m okay with that if it helps her. No questions, her head up high like everything is back to normal. We steal glances and do a terrible job at hiding our giggles behind small talk, which is botched and jittery anyway, but there’s not much to say without asking, So… how old were you when you realized?

One of these nights, I’ll tell her I’d like to see her naked, too, when the time is right and the truth comes easier.

[ionfusionpunk]

The Bad Batch: IMO

So! I watched the Bad Batch! TL;DR at the end 🙃

Ngl, and please don't bash me for this, but I haven't actually finished TCW? My mom and I are still only a couple episodes into season 1, but we're also trying to watch the episodes in chronological order, not release order, plus we're both busy people, so. Kinda hard. Means I haven't watched Season 7, yet, ergo I haven't watched the episode where we meet the Bad Batch. But like anyone embroiled in this fandom, I still know a fair bit about them/what happens.

I'm a little disappointed that Crosshair is the bad guy. Like, I get he's cranky? And I'm all for angst for any character, but, like. Based off the explanation they give in-show, Wrecker would have been an equally valid choice for the chip sorta working, imo. More valid, even, bc his genetic mutation has less to do with his brain directly in the same way Tech's, Hunter's, and Crosshair's mutations do.

Speaking of Wrecker, the Big Brute act? Nah. Not A Fan. I have multiple relatives on the spectrum (ASD), and I was honestly expecting Wrecker to come across like my brother does? i.e. he understands better if we don't layer our conversation with sarcasm/implications/subtext? But that doesn't make him dum, just less socially... proficient? ept? Smooth as everyone else.

Kay. Now, touching on the whitewashing, since this topic is gonna be everywhere. Look, I absolutely 100% agree that Filoni did us Dirty with how the clones all look. Echo, my poor child, you should have more melanin. Everyone, unless you have specific mutations, should have more melanin. They should also look younger, look more like Temuera, etc. etc. But. I don't stan hate of anyone on this blog, okay? We don't know why the choice to whitewash was made. I don't agree with it, but we shouldn't just hate on Filoni for that. In regards to the BB specifically, yes they could have chosen to alter appearances to be more politically correct. Consider though: identical art style connects BB directly back to TCW; art style makes the character immediately more familiar to younger/older/less involved viewers who otherwise won't have much of an opinion on the Dirty done. Please also consider that someone on the production team may have wanted to do right by our boys but for whatever reason were unable to this or the first time around, and that doesn't automatically make it Filoni's fault. Just... don't judge? Don't hate. There's enough of that in the world that I'll happily settle for disappointment and correcting my art to reflect what I believe the clones should have looked like.

Full disclosure, I in fact created a cis-female clone character a couple months ago. She was part of the Alpha batch and the first female mutation, and the trainers, looking upon her as lesser, took to calling her Omega as an insult. After proving she was very much a BAMF, she chose the name Oma and later became the Alpha trainer of other clones with mutations, including several with different intensities of albanism, vitiligo, neurodivergency, Force sensitivity, etc. I really like her and think she's a cool gal. (I don't have any art of her yet, unfortunately.)

On Omega: I adore her, okay? I love how she was copying Hunter it was so cute - akaskdjhf. And, like, is she Force Sensitive? Oh please oh please oh please let her be.

Now, I've seen some stuff about how another Dirty was done in 'bending over backwards' to make her female when she could have just been trans? Alright, look, I'm not gonna disagree, because you're right, but I also refuse to agree, because look: cloning isn't an exact science, even for the Kaminoans. Look at all the mutations they had. From what I understand (I'm no expert, so don't quote me on this, but also feel free to drop me some resources), it's not impossible, improbable, or unreasonable to assume that amongst alllll the clones created, a small percent didn't mutate female. Assuming that Jango was Near-Human, at least (the Kaminoans could have altered the alien DNA out of the base coding), the clones would have started as female fetuses before the Y-chromosome kicked in, right? That's how that works for us regular humans afaik. On top of that, there are exceptions to that rule, because then you have other mutations like mutations in the SRY gene or variations in the number of the sex chromosomes themselves, etc. Basically what I'm getting at is that there should have been more cis-fem clones, but chances are most of them were decommed or forced to undergo trans therapy (is that what you call it? Idk, I'm sorry, don't mean to offend). Omega most likely wasn't engineered to be female; she probably had extra mutations on top of that to make her more desirable to the Kaminoans to keep around for study (e.g. her Force sensitivity???).

On a final note, to end this with my Writer Brain, I would love to see them portray the side-affects of their mutations. Just - chef's kiss.

TL;DR: Dirties were done. Wrecker isn't stupid. Crosshair probably wasn't the best choice for villain, though Angst is Life and is Good. Whitewashing is a problem, but I am Aware of it and can keep myself from making the same mistakes while still enjoying SW content. And while it would have been nice to see a trans clone character, it's okay that Omega isn't, because the choice actually makes sense bc of Science. Have a lovely day :)

[bellesque]

Sweet Dreams (Loki x Reader)

Part 7: Sight

Read on AO3.

Spotify playlist here.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings/Tags: Mirror Sex, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Bondage, Masturbation, basic filth y’all know, and some Angst gasp

A/N: This was a beast to write. Can’t believe there’s only one chapter left after this. Thanks for being along this filthy ride.

* * *

“HEY. SEX EYES.”

Your attention snaps up immediately. “Hm?”

She gives you a look. Shit. Busted. You plaster on a look of feigned obliviousness.

Isla sips her margarita, eyebrows lifted, and then takes extra interest in setting it down. Guilt gnaws at you. Did you pay attention to anything she just said? No. Are you going to let her know? Not if you can get away with it.

You don’t, though. Barely anything slips past Isla, from information to a change in energy. The prolonged pause makes you nervous, but you do your best not to show it.

“Sex eyes,” she says simply, examining her nails. Her gray irises flit to you, and she cocks her head to the side. “You’ve got the sex eyes.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’re thinking about a good lay. Or getting laid. You literally just zoned out because you were thinking about sex!”

“Isla!” you shush her quickly, before the elderly couple a few tables down has a chance to throw you a dirty look. Your cheeks burn, and Isla’s eyes widen as she realizes she wasn’t off the mark.

“Oh my gosh. Wait, I was like, half-kidding.” Her face splits into a grin and she slaps your leg under the table. “I knew it!” she hisses.

“Isla!”

“So who is he?”

It’s a little amusing to see her cool, calculated façade crumble as soon as she discovers you’ve been seeing someone—well, you’re using the term loosely here. But. Still.

She doesn’t even let you speak before she barrels on. “He’s gotta be like. A total hunk since you turned down Jake for him, right? Right? Holy shit, woman, tell me!”

Tell her what, exactly? That you’re “seeing” someone who only comes at midnight, specifically when you’re asleep?

“It… he’s a… secret,” you mumble.

“Secret?” Isla lets out an exaggerated gasp. “No way. Nuh uh. No secrets between us.”

“He’s a little… bashful,” you try, shrugging your shoulders. Is it hot out here? You specifically picked a table with good shade, but you’re heating up. You grab your drink in the hopes of cooling off a bit.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be,” she pouts childishly, crossing her arms as she leans back against the wicker lawn chair. “Fine.”

A pause.

“Is the sex good?”

“Isla!”

“What? Can’t blame me for trying. For all I know you’re a kinky bitch under all that office wear.” She wags her eyebrows at you suggestively. You roll your eyes in response. Another sip. Another hope that she won’t notice that she, once again, has hit the nail right on the head.

“He is real, right? You’re not just messing with me?”

“Of course,” you reply instantly, a thin wall of defensiveness going up. “What makes you think he isn’t?”

“You’re literally telling me nothing.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yeah, but I tell you everything!”

“Even the things I don’t want to know,” you mutter. Isla pouts again.

“Fine. It’s fine. My best friend knows that she can tell me when she feels ready. And I, as her best friend, will be just as welcoming and accepting as I always am. Unless of course. He’s a troll or something. Then we can hide his body together. But one day, my best friend will tell me. Every little kinky, pornstar-worthy detail.” She wrinkles her nose in afterthought. “Ew. Okay maybe not every kinky, porny detail. But you get it!”

You manage a weak beam, but your lunch date with Isla goes on with a rock in the pit of your stomach. It’s only on your way back to work that you acknowledge and confront the feelings you’ve been suppressing for the longest time. Not the ones that surfaced because of Isla’s prying—but the ones that have been swimming just beneath the surface, opening up into a vortex of heavy thoughts.

It’s like you’ve grown… attached. There’s an emotion somewhere, one whose name comes closest to yearning, and it’s tearing you apart. On the one hand: he’s an incubus. He’s somewhere between fact and fiction, and obviously having the hots for a something rather than a someone proves to have its issues… but what if?

What if he were real, more than just a sex demon? More human, more capable of emotions other than lust and desire?

Damn. Get it together. No need to get all soft. It’s just sex.

(But it lingers: what if it could be more than that?)

 --

The silk ties are gone.

The corner where they usually sit is bare. You don’t consider yourself an overly observant person by any means, but you’ve gotten so used to seeing the smooth shine out of the corner of your eye that it feels just the slightest bit off when it’s not calling out to your subconscious.

Where… where did they go?

A sharp shiver runs down your shoulders when you realize it could be because you won’t be needing them tonight. You’ll be seeing him.

How is he going to go about it? Surely as teasing and drawn out as he always is, but where would he even begin? Would he ask you to undress for him, peel off each garment layer by layer? Would he be the one to do so?

Tonight feels like such an occasion that part of you wants to prepare somehow. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten excited to get ready for something.

Ah, fuck, if you’re too excited again, does that mean you’re not going to sleep?

It’s whatever. You’ll deal with it later.

Along with the possible emotional repercussions you dread will arise.

-- -- --

Surprisingly, you’re out like a light. The lightest shifting of your duvet is what wakes you.

“Just as I suspected.” Loki’s silky voice is right by your ear. “You really are a vixen, sleeping naked like this.”

Your eyelids flutter open to see Loki kneeling over you, a seductive smirk on his face. His green eyes rake over your figure hungrily, flitting from the duvet that covers your lower half to the halo of hair around your head. He trails his fingers along the curve of your jaw. “What were you planning to do, pet?” he murmurs. “Seduce me into your bed before I’d had my fun?”

You give him a sleepy smile, sleep-hooded eyes fixated on his mouth. “I’m the fun,” you counter boldly, slowly pushing your bare breasts towards him.

“That you are.” He trails his hand down to your breast now, giving it a gentle squeeze and a tug. “But. It’s so much fun to play with you, sweet.”

Your breathing shallows, eyelids dipping to where his fingertip lingers on your peaked nipple. It’s so easy. So natural for you to slip into this hypnotized, seduced state, willing and wanting for lack of a better description.

His touch ghosts back up over your neck, skimming lightly over your jaw as he leans towards you. “Are you ready?” he asks, his head tipping to one side. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his nose against the hollow of your cheekbone. “At long last.”

You crane your neck to the side, back arching, rising up to feel the length of his body closer to you. You will have him skin-to-skin tonight, eyes open through all of it, and a fiery bolt of excitement floods your core.

His silk suit has never felt more irksome than it does now. A barrier between you that you wish you could just rip away and have him then and there. He’s made you wait long enough, damn it. You need his cock, now.

But Loki loves to leave you in that state of anticipation, it seems. His fingers dip beneath the duvet and trail all over your naked flesh, purposefully avoiding your sopping cunt, but stimulating you just enough to make your chest rise and fall faster.

And fuck, if his expression isn’t intoxicating as it is. The way he studies you so intently—the darkness in his eyes, the way his tongue darts out when he sees how hard your nipples are. He’s barely even begun, and he’s already ruining you.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” he says lowly, darkened eyes flicking up to meet your own. “May I?”

Your answer is an urgent pressing of your mouth against his, warm and desperate and longing.

And Loki doesn’t kiss you—whatever he’s doing now, calling it mere kissing would be a disservice. It’s dizzying, consuming, possessive, every bite on your lip and suck on your tongue. There’s no way you can hold it in when you moan into his mouth.

Loki pulls away, his grip tightening around the base of your neck—fuck, when did his hand end up there?—and breathlessly he mutters into you, “Do that again. Moan for me.”

His mouth captures yours in another earth-stopping kiss, and you oblige him.

And he moans too.

By the time he pulls away, finishing with open-mouthed pecks and his tongue swiping against your mouth, you’re positive your lips are swollen and flushed the deepest shade of red. The look in his eyes tells you plainly tonight has just begun.

You reach out for him, eager for another kiss, maybe two—

The bloody fucker has restrained you. Both hands, tied to the headboard.

You say his name in what is supposed to be mild confusion, but it comes out more breathy and wanton. Damn him.

“I want you to watch me.”

Oh, fuck.

Loki gets off the bed, transfixed on your naked form all the while, and… and, well, begins stripping.

“Watch me,” Loki says sharply when he sees your eyes nearly roll back when you shudder.

And so you do. Maybe it’s because your breasts rise and fall in your periphery while you’re fucking tied up—which is somehow super fucking erotic—or because he’s watching you watch him with such a burning intensity, but even without showing an inch of skin, Loki has you, a whimpering mess, in the palm of his hand.

And then finally—fucking finally—you see him in all his bare glory.

Your jaw drops when you see his cock: swollen with blood, erect and leaking copious amounts of precum it’s obscene.

“I want you… to watch…”

His fingers clasp around his shaft, stroking himself in long, languid pumps. Your mouth waters, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Wet. It’s what you are, it’s what Loki’s dick is. Somehow you don’t know where to look—into his eyes that seem to fuck you, or at his mouth that’s slowly parting and moving soundlessly from his restrained groans, or at his flushed and leaking cock that hangs heavy in his hand. You squirm, your cunt fluttering in need.

Your attention eventually focuses on his ministrations, the mesmerizing way he touches and strokes himself. Loki drags his hand over his shaft at an excruciatingly slow pace and keeps it up for a good while before he starts speeding up, his quiet breaths growing more labored and his abdomen visibly tensing as he ruts more firmly into his fist.

“Fuck,” you say softly, your core muscles rhythmically clenching now as you imagine it’s your cunt. Have you been clenching all the while Loki pleasures himself in front of you—for you?

“I would love to,” he husks. Loki advances, radiating pure sex.

And then he cums—hard. Spurt after spurt of white rope splattering warmth over your bare stomach, and it’s only when he rubs over the head of his cock do you realize your breathing through an open mouth.

“Did you want it in your mouth, sweet?” Loki smirks, caressing your cum-smattered stomach, drawing a line between the valley of your breasts. He holds out his finger in front of you, and suddenly it’s like his cum and your mouth are the only thing in existence. “Do you want it?”

Words don’t come easily to you; instead you battle the restraints, uncaring of the wanton way your tongue stretches out of your mouth, desperate to taste him. Loki pulls his finger away for you to huff in need, until he’s decided he’s had enough torturing you and shoves his thumb into your mouth.

You suck on it greedily, tongue swirling around him, keeping your eyes locked on his. Eye contact. You want him to want you. You want him to see how much you want him.

Almost reluctantly, his finger leaves the warmth of your mouth, dragging your lower lip down subtly before he brings the pad of his thumb back over his slit. Loki hisses, eyes snapping shut as he thumbs his hard cockhead.

Fuck.

“I cannot wait,” he says hoarsely, fingers rubbing his head, “I must have you now.”

The anticipation within you is almost like an out of body experience. Your limbs move of their own accord as soon as they’re let out of their restraints, and fuck when your bare bodies touch, it’s fucking fire. Your blood is fire, your skin is fire.

And the best part is, you can see him. Through the haze of your eyelashes as you kiss his mouth fiercely, it’s evident he’s enjoying this just as much—if not more—as you are. Eyes shut, cock hard, hands needy. So fucking needy.

Loki starts necking you, bringing you flush against his (completely and deliciously naked) skin with a hand kneading your ass. And there it is, that stimulation—the way he palms the flesh and smacks it to deliver the most sensual and near illicit shockwaves to your clit.

You’re panting pretty heavily now, hands fisted tight in Loki’s dark waves. The moment you tug on it unconsciously is when he seems to break from whatever spell he’s under. He kisses the bruise that’s now forming on your neck, thumbing your nipples as he smolders up at you.

“Turn around,” he rasps, and the breathiness in his voice makes you a little proud.

Being on your knees, it doesn’t take very long for you to do a 180. At least, it shouldn’t. But the sex-crazed part of you puts on a show for him: a subtle jut of your ass, an arch of your back to let your breasts bounce enticingly for him. And it works, sort of—the corner of Loki’s mouth lifts up in a challenged smirk and he pulls your hips, your back colliding with his chest.

“Look at you,” he says, nose brushing the helix of your ear. “At us.”

At first, you aren’t sure what he means… until you see the mirror on the side of the room, reflecting your flushed and naked body pulled against his. It stretches from the ceiling all the way to the floor, displaying in crystal clear quality, you and Loki entwined in a tangle of sweat-sheened limbs.

Loki straddles you from behind, his head angled intently towards you as he strokes the sides of your breasts. “Open those legs, sweet, and eyes on that delicious cunt.”

You spread your knees wider, half-kneeling, half-saddled against Loki’s lap, inching apart until the flushed rosy pink of your cunt peeks between your legs. Instead of embarrassment flooding you as you thought it would, you’re simply turned on.

“Would you like to touch yourself?” Loki nips at your neck in the reflection, eyes shut as his lips brush against you, barely pulling away when he speaks. His voice is nothing more than a deep resonance in your chest. “Or shall I?”

“Please,” you whisper, entranced at the vision of Loki sucking another bruise into your neck, that sweet spot that makes your legs turn to jelly.

His hands begin to toy with your breasts, and you shudder, folding into his touch. “Please what?”

“Touch me.”

Loki says nothing. At this point, you just want to cum. From his cock or his fingers, right now it doesn’t matter—all you crave is release that comes from his doing. After being blindfolded for so long, you finally get the chance to memorize this moment, imprint it into your consciousness forever.

His hands roll and tease your nipples until you let out an impatient whine, to which Loki punishes (or rewards?) you with a sharp squeeze at your breast. And then his palm slides down, down, centimeter by centimeter, your knees fruitlessly trying to get even further apart.

You’re on the verge of babbling sexual pleas, you’re sure of it. Close to begging for his fingers, his touch; his tongue, his cock. Loki chuckles—shit, did you say all that out loud?

Without so much as a warning, Loki slips a finger inside you. Entirely finesse, like it’s the most natural response to babble in the world. Like it’s the only way to shut you up—which, probably, if your moan is any indication, it is.

It becomes increasingly difficult for you to keep your eyes open; they insist on rolling back whenever his fingers brush against your clit. But it’s so hot, so fucking hot, to be riding—when did your hips start moving?—his fingers, watching how they disappear into your cunt with a soft squelch.

And then his fingers curl into your G-spot, and you convulse involuntarily.

“Stay,” Loki orders roughly, mouth closing around the index finger of his free hand. He stimulates your clit further with the heel of the hand that fingers you, and rolls your nipple in his spit-covered fingers.

The crescendo of pleasure in your body is barely containable; your moan is throaty as you buck onto his hand, and Loki rewards you with another pleasurable squeeze. So hot. Your body is consumed by the wildfire of pleasure, chasing the white hot flame of release.

“Loki—” you can’t help it, you tilt your head and give him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, “—Loki, fuck, I’m gonna cum like this—”

“Then cum, sweet.” Loki’s fingers pump you deeper, curling inside you. His breath is so warm, so hot against your neck. “Cum for me.”

And you do. Shockingly fast, and strong, your body spasming so much that Loki has to hold you close. You watch, dissociated from yourself, as your body jolts with the aftershocks of pleasure. Like the image that’s in front of you isn’t actually you—spent and panting and wanton, pussy dark red and fluttering and proud.

Loki kisses you as you ride out your high, just barely moving his fingers inside you. It’s never been like this. Multiple orgasms are achievable, but with Loki… oh, mercy. How is he able to keep you in such a constant state of arousal, hungry even when you should be sated?

And then… then you register it. You don’t, not at first, too blissfully unaware of whatever else is happening outside your mouth slotting against his, his lips suctioning around the tip of your tongue—but when it happens, you freeze. You can’t believe—is it happening, you really ask yourself, as Loki shifts behind you and positions the head of his cock at your sopping entrance.

Fuck, his precum mingles with your cum, and it’s the fucking hottest thing you’ve ever felt, your body buzzing in preparation for what you’ve been daydreaming about for the longest time.

Your eyes are hyperfocused on the shadow of where your sexes meet, mouth hanging open as you watch in rapture the way he disappears into your folds.

It’s only when he bottoms out, does the way he stretches and fills you so perfectly actually register in your mind and body.

Fucking full is what you are.

Loki’s face is buried in the crook of your neck, breathing heavy as his cock fucking twitches inside you. You stay that way, both of you still as a statue, until Loki commands in a hungry whisper, “Ride me.”

And you do, all the while watching your body and the way it molds against his. His cock disappearing inside you, your walls fitting and dragging against the contour and ridges of every part of him. It’s fucking hypnotizing. Up. His cock glistens with your mingled juices. Down. Your pussy swallows him inch by inch. Up. You clench as you rise, particularly unforgiving when you’re around just his cockhead. Down. You add a little swivel to your hips as Loki bottoms out.

He growls a curse underneath his breath.

I want to make you cum. You gyrate more forcefully now, movements losing whatever elegance they held before. I want you to cum inside me.

“Keep thinking that, and I just might,” Loki groans, fingers rubbing tight, short circles your clit.

“Then do it,” you whisper, clenching as you caress the side of his face. Loki lets out a guttural noise, and then he does something you don’t expect—he shoves you.

Not off of him. Thank fuck he doesn’t. But he forces you forward, firm and dominant, and you fall on your chest with a soft oomph.

“On your hands and knees, pet.” Loki's ceased all movements inside you, save for the brush of his fingers at your hips. But for some reason, you’re sure you can cum like this. Simply wrapped around him, snug and warm, tightening your muscles as the way to release.

As if he’s read your thoughts, Loki pulls out of you and then buries himself to the hilt. You cry out, Loki’s pace now a battering, brutally delicious fucking from behind.

You could stay like this. Face down on your bed that smells like sex, mouth hanging open, being fucked so good you’re fucking drooling. You close your eyes, focused on the sensation of his cock gliding, massaging, pounding into your walls at a speed you can only describe as ungodly.

Your hair is yanked up, not too hard to be considered anything more than pleasurable pain.

“Look at yourself,” Loki spits out, a restrained grunt following after. Your eyes flutter open, and you’re thoroughly turned on by the sight that greets you. Loki’s beautiful face contorted in a sex-crazed snarl, hips slamming into yours. Your ass jiggles with every thrust, and your breasts sway back and forth while you’re barely propped up on your elbows. Your mouth still hangs open, as if awaiting Loki’s next load. Shit. You want that. His cum down your throat.

Loki gives another tug at your hair. “Look at you, my little cock slut. All your dirty desires, all your fantasies and sex—brought to the surface. Here, with me.” Loki groans again, speeding up his thrusts. Slap. Slap. Slap. “Do you like how I fuck you? Hmm? Answer me.”

Loki spanks you. A short, pleasurable sting that pushes you closer to release. Your eyebrows crease together—fuck, you won’t last long, not with the way his hand rubs soothing circles over where he slaps you. “Yes,” is your breathy answer.

Another slap. Another caress. “Louder, pet. Do you like—” he rolls his hips deeper into you, his cock riding just right along your G-spot, shit, “—how I fuck you?”

Fuuuuuck. The pleasure builds, and builds, and you buck against him as you moan another yes.

“Then cum,” he orders. Slapslapslapslap—Loki grunts, plowing into you at a such a precise speed, you can barely keep up. “Cum now, for me. Only for me.”

With a wail of his name and your head falling forward against the mattress, you cum, whole body convulsing as you pant loudly through an open mouth. So good. You clench around him as you come down from your high, and his cock sliding in and out of you in a deliciously lazy rhythm sends you into the precipice of release once more.

“Loki—” you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, but you grind against his hardening length, “—I’m gonna cum again.”

“Wait for me.” He grunts, his chest falling on your back as his hands find and knead your breasts. “I’m close.”

Somehow. Something in those two words—or maybe in the way that he says it—makes you pause in your movements. He doesn’t stop, not in the slightest, chasing his own release while you stave off yours. But… there’s something that strikes a chord in you. One that unravels a thread of thoughts and emotions wound tight, tucked away in some deep corner of your mind in favor of enjoyable, no-strings-attached sex.

But you want strings.

You want him to be more than just a sex machine. More than just a dream. Someone who actually fucking exists and hopefully, has a heart that loves as well as he fucks. But the reality is—this isn’t. This isn’t your reality, just some dream-sexcapade for a week.

You’re not gonna cry. Fuck it, you’re not going to. You’re going to enjoy every bit of tonight, damn it, have as many orgasms as you can, and you’re going to feel nothing but lust and pleasure and wake up with the glow of sex.

Loki slaps your ass again, jolting you back to his steady fucking behind you. Your hands gripping sheets, knuckles white, you say in a surprisingly steady voice, “Fuck me harder.”

His breathing hitches, and he spreads your legs further apart, bending you so it’s just your ass in the air meeting him thrust for thrust.

And fuck, does he thrust.

He’s muttering, quiet affirmations, dirty nothings, hands traveling up and down your spine—and when you clench, the first ropes of his seed sear a blaze of fire within your walls, making it easy for you to follow in release.

Before he can pull out completely, though, you summon your strength, and push Loki on his back while you swivel on his cock—earning another groan from his end—plant your hands on his chest, and look at him.

Memorizing.

Burning it into memory.

You bend forward to kiss him, hips circling over his still-hard cock.

One more night.

Just tonight.

Tonight, you’ll have the sweetest fucking dream you’ve ever had.

* * *

Masterlist

Consider buying me a coffee?

Sweet Dreams Tag List (OPEN): @shiningloki @imnotrevealingmyname @wolfsmom1 @hanyasnape @cheriesugarr @toozmanykids @rorybutnotgilmore @myraiswack @green-valkyrie @hiddlesgoddess

[thefanficmonster]

My Warrior

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: !Spoilers!, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: They have all made it out of there. They’re safe from the real horrors, but the scenes that have been imbedded into their minds keep haunting them. They are left with scars to their subconscious as well as scars on their skin. Marks to remind them of what they went through. What they survived. Taylor can’t stand them - the burn marks on her skin and the scars that night left on her. She’s struggling way more than she’d like to admit. But there’s someone who sees through her toughness.

Requested by @chairtiger Hello there my chaotic co-cult leader! Sorry to be posting your request so late 👉👈 hope you understand and forgive me for the long wait. I had a blast writing the fic and I hope you enjoy reading it. Anyway...SHIP DAYLOR FOR CLEAR SKIN EVERYONE...Love, Vy ❤

“Fucking hell, this is torture.“ Taylor groans as she runs a make-up wipe over her foundation-covered, bruised skin. Underneath all those layers of foundations are the marks she’s been so desperate to hide - the reminders of that night. That monstrosity that wanted her dead and wasn’t gonna stop at anything to make that happen.

But it didn’t happen She tells herself, I’m here, aren’t I?

She’s happy to have gotten out of there with her life as well as all her friends, but the feeling of the constant presence of that night’s memories weighing on her mind, and thanks to the marks on her skin as well, she has a hard time accepting that she was indeed lucky. Some fucking luck. If she were lucky she wouldn’t have even ended up in that predicament. But she did and it has taken a bite out of her sanity and will haunt her for good, physically and mentally. No doubt about it.

The first place they all went to after their return was a hospital. Scrapes and bruises and some open wounds along with Andrew’s concussion were the main of the physical injuries. No broken bones or anything permanent, thank God. 

Well, almost nothing permanent. 

Taylor had seen the looks the nurses and the doctor gave her when they saw the state of her skin - much like the others she had bruises and scratches here and there, the most serious of which still had dried blood on them. However, unlike the rest of the group, she’d be left with the burn marks for as long as the memories - forever. Of course, that’s not what the doctor told her, not directly, at least. He said to give them time and some treatment that wasn’t completely sure to work. She knew what that meant - “Be ready to spend the rest of your life like this or in covering it up.”

It’s been one month since that horrible night. One month of treatment for her skin. Lotions, creams, cleansers, foundation. Nothing has worked. She spends an hour going through the process of covering the marks up and an hour taking all that foundation off. No one has commented on them which may be either because she covers them well enough or they simply don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t care what others think of them, people’s opinions never bother her on any ground. The war she has with these burn marks is personal and has all to do with an event she wants to let go of and move on from. As if her nightmares aren’t enough, she also has to deal with flashbacks every time she looks in the mirror.

She hasn’t expressed her frustration to anyone. She has managed to hide it as well as the bruises themselves. It’s Taylor after all, she’s good at putting on an act so no one can read her. But, because it is indeed her, she’s not used to keeping her anger in. She feels like a ticking timed bomb. A bubble with tender, delicate walls that could burst at any moment. And God help the person who she bursts in front of. She’s never held her composure this long, she doesn’t know what will even happen if she lets go.

Now, looking in the mirror, about to take off her foundation and apply the new lotion the doctor prescribed her, she feels as fragile as ever. She’s feeling the lack of sleep more than ever as well as the pain of her tensed muscles that never seem to relax anymore. She doesn’t feel mentally prepared to go through the process of taking off the cover-up. She never feels ready, it always takes a toll on her on mentally, emotionally and even physically. She always feels so tired afterwards, so drained. Maybe because she always expects to see a difference when the foundation comes off. There never is, nothing but disappointment.

Today has been extra hard for her. Her mind has never been hazier from the lack of sleep. Her thoughts are all over the place, none of them clear. Her body’s almost shutting down. She feels like a ghost of herself. Like the real her is in a different location. Probably still stuck in Little Hope.

The foundation’s off, the same sight meets her, mocking her from the mirror. And that’s the snapping point she’s been dreading for a month now. She reaches for the new lotion she picked up on her way home.

“Useless piece of shit!“ she chucks it to the other end of the bathroom. The bottle is unharmed, it just hits the tiled floor with a loud thud. She however is in pieces, also dropping on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees tucked close to her chest, hiding her face between them, sobbing her heart out. It’s certainly a freeing feeling, but it only exhausts her more.

“Hey T...Taylor, what’s wrong?“ She hears the familiar voice and goes silent but does not dare lift her head, especially not now that her cover-up is off her, the burn marks on display. She remains sitting on the ground, face hidden from his sight.

Daniel feels her heart sink at the sight of the most important person in his life being at a low point like this one. He feels guilty for not taking action sooner. He saw the signs, the red flags in the form of fake empty smile, lack of sarcasm, colorless cheeks, eyebags, red eyes. Lack of Taylor, she was nowhere to be seen. She was far from the person he’s used to knowing and seeing every day. Knowing her, he expected prying to be a bad move but now he wishes he’d done it sooner. On time. Before she could crash like this.

“Do you know how to knock?” Her weak attempt at putting her tough act back on slips through the cracks in her voice.

Daniel is by her side asap, kneeling on the ground in front of her. “T, come on, don’t do this. Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She knows better than to hide from Daniel. He know her too well. She trusts him too much. So, despite her previous determination not to let him in on the fact that she’s now a product of that night, she raises her head, resting her chin on her knee, still avoiding his gaze though. He doesn’t bat an eye though. 

Can he really not see what’s bothering me? It’s very fucking obvious

“I- I just feel like I can’t do this, you know. I can’t be fine like the rest of you. You’ve all moved on. And here I am with nightmares like a preschooler and these ugly things all over my skin. That night will permanently hold onto me, Daniel. I can never let it go if I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror.“ Her gaze travels to the lotion bottle on the an arm’s reach away. “I can empty as many of these bottles as I feel like, they never help. The doctor says they maybe would, big emphasis on the ‘maybe’ but, spoiler alert: they never do. I wish they’d stop stringing me along, every failed attempt is a hard-to-swallow disappointment.“ She chuckles humorlessly when Daniel takes the bottle from her, “And then there’s always the casually mentioned risk of it making them worse rather than better. You know, casually. Like, yeah this will either help you or fuck you up even worse.“ She ends the rant with a sigh, almost feeling like herself again.

Daniel sees it too, the fire in her eyes is fighting to light again. She’s so angry and yet she can’t express it to anyone. Anyone by him apparently. 

“So, you’re not gonna give it a shot?“ She shakes her head, “But what if it helps?“

“What if it makes it worse?“ She automatically replies, hugging her knees closer

“Let it be your last go. If it doesn’t do anything, or God forbid makes things worse, it’s on me. I owe you whatever you want. I know that’s nothing in comparison to what you’ll be dealing with, but...“ Sensing a speech is on its way, Taylor holds her hand up, shaking her head.

“Alright, spare me Mr. I-Don’t-Take-Medicine-Unless-I’m-On-My-Death-Bed. Give me the lotion.“

He shakes his head, stands up and takes hold of the hand she has outstretched instead. “Nah-ah, let me help.” The skeptical and downright humoring look she gives him when she stands to her feet almost makes him frown. “What? I’m not clueless, T. I know a think or two about skin care. You think this all came naturally?” He motions at himself cockily, stealing a genuine laugh from her.

“I knew nature couldn’t fuck up that badly. I suspected you had something to do with it.“ She narrows her eyes, meeting his also narrow-eyed gaze, both in on the fact that the other is messing around.

“Your skin is at my mercy. I wouldn’t talk smack if I were you.“ He playfully warns her, waving the lotion bottle in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah whatever you say, tough guy.“ She opens a drawer under the sink and throws him a box of cotton pads.

Not wasting any time in fear she might change her mind, Daniel takes one pad out and puts a few drops of the lotion on it. He hesitantly brings it closer to the skin on the side of her neck while she stands as still as a statue, not breathing either. Despite all the bold talk, he’s still nervous. He really hopes this miracle liquid of chemicals works, solely because it will make Taylor happy. And to him, her happiness is all that matters.

She shudders when the cold, damp cotton pad makes contact with her skin and he immediately feels the need to apologize. Instead, however, he goes on to tell her exactly what’s on his mind, cause he knows there’ll never be a better time.

“What you call a reminder of that night, the horrors we endured, I see it differently...“ he trails off, looking at her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. “I see it as proof that we’re stronger than we know. And you, T...are the strongest of us all. Any of these scars could have been a lethal would but here you are, alive. And no, I’m not trying to say you’re lucky. None of us are. Lord knows what kind of fucked up luck we posses, but it ain’t right. No, you are brave. You went through it and fought to leave the battle with scars instead of dropping to the ground with a wound that is irredeemable. You’re a warrior, Taylor.” He pauses for a second and so do the movements of his hand. He hesitantly inhales before saying the last sentence he’s been holding back, “My warrior.” 

Taylor tilts her head to look at him, genuine surprise and warmth in her eyes. She’s baffled. Pleasantly caught off-guard by words she never thought she’d hear, let alone trust. She covers all this up with a smirk. Classic Taylor. “You weren’t really a pansy back there either, Dan.” She gently bumps his shoulder with hers.

His eyes narrow again. “I hate that nickn-“ It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence cause her lips are already on his, preventing him from ranting about...whatever he was about to go off about.

You know what they say: If you don’t finish saying it, it was never meant to be said in the first place. 

@artlovingbre  @megandaisy9  @sparrow-gg​

[cloud9in]

Hazel

Summary: Ava decides that in order to win Hazel’s heart, she’d serenade her outside of her window...in the middle of a snowstorm

Pairing: Ava x Mc (Hazel) (based on the song Hazel by Lloyd) (I recommend listening to it)

Warnings: NONE, just a lot of fluff...and some angst?

Word Count: 2.4k

Permanent Taglist: @samanthadalton @satrinadia I’m also gonna tag some Ava stans: @kamilahsayeet2063 @dopeyouth 

The soles of Ava’s boots softly sink into the powder like snow that had begun plating the ground a few hours ago. It was now midnight. The moon sparkled brightly even through the flurry of snow that poured from the sky. Ava brushes off the thin layer of snowflakes that coated her face, and puffs out a breath of air. She knew that she probably resembled an apple, but that wasn’t the most important thing to think about in the moment.

 The cheerleader stood below Hazel’s window with a black and silver Sony boombox that she borrowed from Mack. Ava had made a mental note to thank her best friend's sister properly, after (hopefully) succeeding with her plan. To be fair, Mackenzie didn’t take it too well when Ava first came to her with the idea.

  ~

 “Why do you want my boombox? There's plenty of ones available for whatever you have planned, which is what by the way?” 

Ava visibly stiffens, her fingers curling into the hem of her plaid skirt as she spoke, “Well...there’s this movie that Hazel and I used to watch...”. Mackenzie rolls her eyes dramatically as she flops onto her bed, “Oh that movie...hm what was it again.” The blue-haired girl strokes her chin thoughtfully before speaking, “oh right ‘Say Anything’.”

 Ava glances at her with a look of surprise, her fingers slowly loosening the hold on her skirt. Mackenzie takes it as a sign to elaborate, “it’s practically all Hazel talks about, she’s drilled it into my brain at this point and now here you are bringing it up again. Can I ever catch a break?” She visibly huffs with a hand over her heart before shooting Ava a wink. An awkward silence sits in the room for a moment until Mackenzie sits up in thought, her eyebrows knitting together before speaking, “I thought you two weren’t on speaking terms?” 

 Ava frowns at her words and turns her head to look down the hall at Hazel’s closed door. “Well...yes we aren’t. But I want to apologize to her in a way that is meaningful for the both of us. I think that...this is the perfect way.” The brunette displays a hopeful grin on her face as she looks in Mackenzie’s direction.

 “...You do know that the whole ‘puppy eyes and please look at my charming smile’ thing does not work on me right? I am not my sister”, Mackenzie deadpans.

 “Huh, so it does work on Hazel”, Ava smiles to herself silently as she makes a plan to tease her best friend about it.

  “As a matter of fact...Hazel seems to drop everything and run to you whenever you use that damn look..”. Mackenzie tilts her head to the side and gives Ava a weird look. 

The brunette tries not to fidget in front of the girl. Mack didn’t know of Ava’s attraction to her big sister, and she wanted to keep it that way for now. Ava didn’t want to picture what Mackenzie’s shovel talk would consist of...the girl could be unpredictable.

 “What happened between you guys anyway?”

 Ava moves her gaze down to the floor, contemplating her answer. She couldn’t tell Mackenzie what really happened after the ski trip...

  But the truth is that Hazel and Ava had gotten closer, sharing their first kiss in her car. The cheerleader had dropped her off that night after practice and before she could stop herself, Hazel was pulled back into the car by her arm, and their lips locked. It felt so perfect...Ava never felt that way when kissing Bayla. Her heart sped up every time she caught a glimpse of the girl's pink hair in the halls. There were moments where Ava had to walk away so she wouldn’t make the mistake of tangling her fingers in Hazel’s hair, burying her perfect lips with her own. The only thing stopping her was Bayla. 

Even after the kiss, Ava couldn’t make the decision to fully leave her girlfriend, not until Hazel was sure she knew what she wanted as well. The brunette refused to ruin her own relationship in fear of her best friend picking someone else in the end. 

The two shared glances occasionally but neither one has spoken to each other after a huge argument one day in the locker room. All of those bottled up emotions had spilled in that moment, but it only left a rift too big to seal up with a simple “I’m sorry”. It seems like the best option would be to sit down and talk it all out, but what teenager is capable of such civility? 

Ava breathes out quietly as her mind starts to cloud with thoughts. Why am I still with her? Hazel is the one I want.... No, need. She couldn’t get neither Hazel nor Bayla out of her head. Is this the way her best friend feels about Mason and Noah? 

 She blinks back to reality after a moment and looks up to see Mackenzie staring at her expectantly. “Um...well it's just some school and girlfriend drama”, Ava says nonchalantly, hoping to convince the blue-haired girl otherwise. It's clear that Mack doesn’t fully believe her, but she drops the topic and walks towards her closet, pulling out the shiny new boombox. She hands it over to Ava but not before staring directly into her eyes, “You break my baby and we’re going to have a problem Lawrence.” The brunette gapes at her for a split second and then nods her head carefully. 

Yeah she definitely didn’t want to hear that shovel talk now.

 ~

 Ava smiles at the little memory as she dusts more snowflakes from her face. She looks up at the grey sky and shields her eyes from the falling snow. The light flurry was beginning to accelerate into a storm and the many layers Ava had on wouldn’t be able to protect her for much longer. She had to get a move on, it was now or never. 

Funny that out of any time of the day, Ava had picked during a snowstorm to confess her love to Hazel. Was it love? Ava knew deep down that she was crazy in love with the girl but didn’t want to scare her away. So instead of saying “I love you, be my girlfriend”, the cheerleader decided that bringing a boombox and blasting an old school love song while serenading Hazel from below her window, in a soon to be blizzard... would be the best idea ever. 

She positioned the boombox onto her shoulders before reaching up to hit the play button, a deep yet melodious beat encompassing the air as the singer hummed sweet words 

I'm beginnin' to see

The more we hang together

Baby girl, I like you

'Cause you're better

Ava’s arms shook intensely but it wasn’t because of the weight of the box. A surge of nervousness had fluttered in her stomach and seeped its way into her bones. Is this stupid? Is she even awake? Will she be angry that I woke her up? The brunette had started to doubt her actions as she stood there.  There was no hint of a silhouette behind the transparent curtains in Hazel’s room, and Ava had almost switched the song off until the lights turned on.

 ~

 Hazel had settled under her thick blankets for the night, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. The fight she had with Ava constantly replayed in her head, but not nearly as much as the kiss did. Hazel still felt the brunette’s lips on hers, the tingling sensation seemed to never go away. She lightly touched her lips and closed her eyes, reliving every touch and feeling Ava had caused that night. Her heart started to beat rapidly, and it was the only thing she could hear before a sudden commotion invaded her thoughts...

 Hey Hazel

I like you

Can't see myself without you

My sweet Hazel

'Cause I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

Hazel’s eyes shot open as she sat up abruptly. Was that my name? She thought to herself as she peered towards the window. Down below she could see a figure standing but the blowing snow made it hard to make out who it was. Hazel steadily slipped out of her covers, immediately wrapping her arms around her abdomen for warmth. She cautiously slipped below the window and squinted her eyes to see the intruder, but to no avail. She couldn’t see who it was, which meant that turning on her bedroom lights was the only option. Hazel sighed to herself before flipping the switch up and creeping back to her spot. What the hell am I doing? She thought again, deciding to stand up and face the man who sang her name shamelessly.

 Except it was no man.

 ...It was Ava

 Hazel does a double take as her jaw drops open at the sight below her. Ava holds a boombox above her head as Lloyd sings his heart out. When the brunette notices Hazel, a gorgeous smile appears on her face, eyes twinkling with delight. They looked like snowflakes themselves and Hazel felt as if she was in trance.

 Ava began to sing along, her voice belting out in the most incredible way possible, as the snow shined heavily behind her. It was the most stunning thing Hazel had ever witnessed.

Can't see myself without you

My sweet Hazel

Girl, I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

She hums the background vocals while never breaking eye contact with the girl above her. It was sensual and Hazel felt her face flood with heat as she covered her mouth. Ava puts the boombox down and points her fingers up at Hazel as she continues the song, whispering her name 

...Hazel

 Hazel...

Lloyd’s vocals croon in the background as the two girls just stare at each other. Ava didn’t fight the urge and allowed herself to sink into the deep pools of honey that were home to Hazel’s face. The light in her room added an extra sparkle to her eyes as she laughed with joy. Hazel was relieved that her dark complexion couldn’t reveal a deep redness that only Ava could cause. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, the cold didn’t bite at her skin anymore. Excitement runs through her veins as she dashes out of her bedroom, down the stairs, out through the front door, and right into Ava’s arms. The cheerleader yelps in surprise as she steadies her hold on Hazel, holding her up midair. She giggles into Hazel’s neck as they hug each other tightly. 

 “Couldn’t resist me eh?”

 Hazel laughs, swatting playfully at Ava’s padded shoulder. She leans in for another hug, enveloping herself in all of the warmth that the brunette provided, despite the chilly air. After a minute of just holding each other, Ava reluctantly pulls away and cups Hazel’s cheek, turning her head to look down at her. “Hazel...I’m really sorry. For everything.”

 The giggles and laughter are put on pause as Ava sets her down. Hazel doesn’t let go of the brunette no matter how much her brain protests to step back. She couldn’t. This is what she desperately craved for ever since she lost her best friend. Now that Ava was back in her arms, Hazel held on tightly, like she feared that history would repeat itself if she let go. This time would be different, this time they were going to talk it out. 

 “Listen Hazel I-”

 She doesn’t let Ava continue, putting a finger against her mouth to shush her.

 “We can talk about it tomorrow..”. Hazel gestures to the white snow blanketing around them, “When we’re not in the middle of a snow storm”, she claims. 

 Ava looks around with her and nods her head in agreement, a small smile playing at her lips. Tomorrow they’d solve this problem, but for now,  Hazel is going to enjoy every last bit of this experience. So many ideas flooded her mind, maybe she’d throw a bunch of snowballs at Ava, or push her into the snow. Maybe she’d just hold her hand and let the snow plummet and build around them.

My sweet Hazel

Girl, I think I'm in love (I'm in love)

She gazes into Ava’s eyes lovingly, pulling her flush against her smaller frame. Hazel watches as small snowflakes trickle down onto the brunette’s rosy cheeks, and leans in to kiss every individual freckle that painted her face. Ava pulls back after a good five kisses and chuckles down at the girl, “you know if you keep that up, we’ll be standing here all night.” 

 Hazel sways gently in her arms, a cheeky smile invading her dark features, “and who says that wasn’t my plan all along…?”

 Ava giggles and swiftly picks up Hazel once more, this time spinning her around in the snowfall. They’re bodies were drenched with the white coating, but they didn’t mind it. Hazel looked up into the sky as she screamed with happiness.

Girl I think I’m in love

I’m in love

I’m in love

Ava peered up at her best friend, the smile on her face looked like a million dollars. She pulls her down into a searing kiss that completely shuts out the blizzard around them. As soon as their lips connected, Ava felt like all was right in the world. She could taste the sweet cherry chapstick that Hazel always wore. God it was even better than last time. 

She gently sucks on Hazel’s lower lip, watching her every gasp and the way her nose scrunches up when she squeezes her eyes shut. God she is so perfect.

 They both eventually pulled back for air, the heat between them seemingly growing hotter and hotter. If they never stopped, the whole neighborhood would be melted of snow. 

 “You know you are my whole world Hazel…” 

 “Just shut up and spin me around again”

The two girls howl with laughter as they collide together in the storm.

...From out of her window, Mackenzie shouts down “KNEW IT!!!”, her fist pumping in the air.

 ...Noah sits on his motorcycle in the storm and watches them kiss, an ache growing in his heart. 

 ...Mason turns back in the direction he came from, refusing to witness the scene before him. The flowers he once held in his hand, now laid peacefully under the blanket of snow.

 ...and Ava’s phone that's lodged into the snow lights up for the third time: 3 missed calls from Bayla.

It rings one more time before going silent.

I’m in love

I’m in love

I’m in love