#friendship fluff

[sweet-evie]

SaShiSu first impression headcanons... but more Shoko, because I love her to bits. 💖

On the first day they met (likely on the first day of school during their first year), I like to think Shoko had her moment of, "Oh, I have two very attractive classmates."

She might have (just a teeny bit) entertained the idea of what it would look like if she ended up dating one of them. It's nothing serious -- just a hypothetical thought from a teenage girl honestly, and she recalls that same thought decades later and laughs at the naivety.

Because after the first time Satoru opened his mouth and started talking and being his obnoxious teen self, 15-year-old Shoko was like, "Ew." 👀😷

Suguru's better and more tolerable, but there's a reason why he and Satoru get along too well, you know. Suguru can be a two-faced asshole and easily goes along with Satoru's brattiness.

Plus, as the three of them got closer, Shoko found herself going along with and getting dragged into the most ridiculous situations.

And in the end, Shoko is like, "I'm never falling in love with either of these idiots."

She loves them for sure... But it's like the way you're fond of your annoying siblings, you know. (They're both technically younger than her too -- by a couple of months, but it still counts.)

Shoko has seen their good, their bad, their ugly.

And in another life, in another world, the three of them are best friends forever -- friends until they're old and gray. 👨‍🦳👩‍🦳👨‍🦳

They probably whack each other with their walking sticks.

[roseofithaca]

Sleepover

(Set shortly after @idiotwithanipad 's A Little Light)

"Hey, I'm back! Told you it wouldn't be...." Amy stopped in her tracks as she passed through the door, frowning and looking around; "Wait..."

"It's not quite finished yet! Just hold on."

Silver held her hands in front of her, closing her eyes and concentrating as hard as she could.

Cheap metal dissolved around a single divan covered in a moave bedspread decorated with stars and moons, with purple and black fluffy pillows against the headboard, along with a dog-eared and well-cuddled Simba plushie.

The Neo Pagan sighed, looking well and truly spent, as if she'd been moving all the furniture around by hand instead of her mind.

"There! I think that's it. As good as I can remember." She smiled at the returning image of her friend, who she still couldn't quite believe she could see and speak too again.

Amy blinked at the room. A rather stark contrast to the dark and damp little chamber they'd conversed in before.

"You...redecorated?"

"Yeah! Took me a couple of tries to figure it out but, well, like I kept telling you guys - I'm a lucid dreamer! And you can astral project, which is so fucking awesome, let's make the most of it!"

Silver was bouncing on the toes of her boots once again, having clearly leapt right to the other extreme of her personality, following Amy's visit and messages from Mary. They'd brought the sparkle back into the witchling's eyes and the color to her cheeks.

She fiddled with the sheafs on her hands as she watched Amy inspect the room.

"There's...a lot of stuff. Holy shit."

She ran a finger up a CD tower that came up past her waist. Then peered at a collection of books on a shelf above a hefty old computer tucked in the corner. Every inch of the lilac walls were covered with posters of Buffy, Linkin Park, Avril Lavigne, Evanescence, Green Day and some other bands and movies Amy didn't recognise.

On the nightstand beside the bed was the smallest witches' altar set up, with a little goddess statue between two black wax candles, and a photo of a dark haired man crouching beside a girl with short brown hair clutching a three month old puppy in her arms.

"Silv. Is this your room?"

The Pagan nodded; "Yeah. Hope you don't mind, it's just...you showed me yours, I wanted to show you mine."

"Shit. You never said you were rich?!"

"I...What? I wasn't rich!" Silver scoffed, blushing a bit.

Maybe her family could be called 'Lower Middle Class', but...

Oh crap. Did Amy think she was showing off? That wasn't what she was going for at all.

But her friend just laughed; "Dude, look at all this stuff! You got computer and a TV in your room! You got a library of books and disks! No wonder you never smoked, you must never have been bored."

Silver chuckled at that.

"And look at that! It's like something off the set of Star Wars." The girl was gawping at her blue lava lamp next to the computer; "And what's this? Is some kinda witchy crystal ball?"

She struggled not to double over as Amy looked over the sphere containing a lines of pink electricity dancing out from the ball in the centre.

"It's a plasma ball, you twit! Put your finger on it!"

Amy did so, her mouth forming an 'O' as the lights commented to her fingertip.

"Ooh! Cool! Alison should get one of these for...."

They both locked eyes, Silver gripping the fluff of her blanket. Amy cleared her throat and moved away from the ball.

"Okay, just to be clear - most of the things you're seeing were second hand." Explained Silver, changing the subject; "The computer is like...three years old? My brother gave it to me after he got his laptop, and the fan on it sounds like a jet engine. Same with the TV, which has a VHS tape stuck in that no one can get out."

"A V-what?"

"Those dvds shaped like rectangles."

"Oh, right." Amy nodded; "Still, c'mon. It's a pretty sweet room, that's all I'm saying."

Silver shrugged; "Yeah, well...It was the one area in the house that was mine and I could do what I wanted in." She sat down on the divan, running her finger over the soft purple blanket at the foot; "Every time I stepped outside or tried to watch tv in the living room, my family made me feel like shit. So if it was better to stay in here, needed to make it cosy, y'know. And...I guess I was lucky enough to have enough money to do it up how I wanted."

"See? Rich cow!" Amy teased.

"It was my Dad's life insurance."

Her friend pursed her lips at that; "Oh. Fuck. Sorry."

"S'fine. Mum...my living Mum, was at least decent enough to give me an allowance for my chores." Silver confessed, "Wasn't much use for anything else mums are meant to do, but guess I can be grateful she never let me starve...I did that all to myself."

Amy took a seat on the bean bag chair stuffed in the corner next to the little grey box of a TV behind her.

"Wanna talk self harm? Try topping ripping your own skin off till your arteries are on display."

Silver stared at her with eyes like a rabbit in headlights. It made Amy snort.

"Relax! Mary stopped me. And it's not like I was in any real danger...Just kinda needed that release, you know?" She admitted, "It's...not been easy for me. There."

"But...you said you were okay? I thought were in like....Heaven?"

"I am, we are...It's just not playing harps on clouds like in the cartoons. Thank fuck because that sounds boring as shit. It's just...It's really hard to describe." Her friend frowned; "It's like a living dream. Mary and Annie keep telling me it's a paradise...and yeah it looked pretty amazing when I first arrived. But it's also like...whatever you want it to be? And...well I guess, moody bitch that I am, being separated from you and Humphrey, I wanted..."

"...Hell?" Asked Silver.

Amy snorted; "Trust me to be the one stupid cow that could ruin Heaven!"

Silver wished she could nudge her friend or give her a half-hearted hug. She watched Amy's fingers smooth over bean bag cover.

Humming, curious, she grabbed her Lion King plushie and chucked it at the other girl's head.

"Hey! What the...?" She exclaimed, frowning as the beloved teddy fell into her lap.

"Just wanted to test a theory." Silver grinned.

"Cow. What did Simba do to deserve that?"

"Collateral damage." She shrugged, then looked down at her lap; "Speaking of....Did you see your dad?"

Amy went quiet, stroking the patch of fur on Simba's head, matted after many trips in the washing machine.

She nodded, a twitch of a smile on her lips.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me about it. It's between you two."

"Thanks, mate." Said Amy, her voice breaking a little.

Silver could still see pain on her friend's face. It was enough to surmise that, even if making that connection had helped Amy a little, it was still agony to be separated from him. Understandable. As grateful as she was to have this 'crossing' to interact with her best mate again, her absence would still be felt when she woke up.

"And....Robin?" She couldn't hide the distaste in her voice as she said that name.

Amy shook her head; "Not yet. I'm still...getting the hang of how to do this with different people. Reaching Dad was a bit tougher than you. S'like you put up less walls for me to break through than he had around him."

Made sense. Humphrey had quite literally shut himself off from the others, both emotionally and locking himself in Amy's room.

"And when I tried to look in on Robin...well. Let's just say there's not so much walls around his head, more like a cave. In a mountain. On fucking Mars."

"Should've seen that coming." Silver clicked her tongue; "Well don't feel the need to rush on my account."

The dejected monotone sound of her voice caught Amy's attention.

"What really happened, Silv?" She asked, "I only know what Mary said he did."

She shrugged; "Not much else to say."

"I know, but...It's Robin, you know? Our Robin. Big, silly, fluffy, man-puppy Robin who loves practical jokes and dispensing random wisdom!"

"Maybe we don't know him as well as we thought?" Silver mused, looking at her thin lavender curtains, "I mean...the dude has killed people. To survive, sure, but there was also that thing with Hat. And you know he was all on board for killing Alison, to start. Then again, so was Mary, so maybe I just have a habit of attracting problematic parental figures..."

"Maybe. But...they do love you though. I'm sure of that. Or at least, I am with Mary. I just can't imagine Robin..."

"Might be easier to show you. Then you can come up to your own conclusions."

Silver reached into the drawer of random crap in the table next to her bed and fished out a remote.

Closing her eyes, she clutched the device between her palms and focused, as she had when manifesting the items in the bedroom.

Pressing the On button, she pointed it towards the fat TV, which lit up with a burst of static, before showing a first person POV of Robin, looking straight at the screen. Amy moved from the bean bag chair over to the edge of the bed.

Silver pressed the rewind button, to show the context of what occurred in the build up to their fight.

Humphrey's body clinging to her. Their silent communication as they sat listening to Cap's long winded story.

Then Robin bringing in Humphrey's head. Humphrey's heart visibly breaking.

Silver lashing out at the others as they stared at her in judgement. The way they turned their backs to walk away.

Humphrey asking her to leave him alone. Both of him.

And all the while, Robin standing there in the corner. Watching.

In the bedroom, Silver said nothing as the argument played out again, letting Amy watch it for herself. Her plea to know why Robin had to do it like that. Robin's assertion it was for her own good. The escalating shouts. She cringes, feeling a little bad, knowing how much her friend hates arguments. It seems longer than she remembered it, too.

More swearing. More hurtful accusations. Then Robin looking as bestial as either of them have known as he's there, in her face, telling her about what Mary did. Then Silver's slap knocking him back. The flash of regret on his weathered face.

Then the screen goes blank, and they're back staring at a grey mirror of themselves.

"....Shit. That was brutal..." Amy gulped, having tugged her hoodie up at some point during the raised voices.

It hadn't helped Silver feel any better to watch the replay.

"Maybe...maybe I shouldn't have said that thing about him forgetting how to be human." She winced; "You know he can get pretty sensitive when someone calls him an animal-."

"Bullshit!" Amy cut her off; "You were right to call him out for that, acting all high and mighty, making out like that was the right thing when all it did was make you and Dad feel even more shitty! It's no excuse for him breaking his promise to Mary and letting you think she didn't...Well. You can tell him yourself that's a load of crap, straight from the woman herself!"

Silver smiled at that, feeling a warmth in her chest as she remembered Mary's last message to her.

Amy tossed Simba back into her arms.

"Don't worry. Leave the annoying fluff to me. He'll be grovelling for your forgiveness by the time I'm done with him."

Silver shook her head, giving the plushie a hug; "Honestly....I really don't give a toss about Robin. You just saw my perspective there. I'm sure he has his own reasons for what he said but...I just can't be bothered to care."

Despite the words, her tone was no longer defeated or hopeless.

"I'm just excited to wake up and nag Julian to call Alison. So I can get the paperwork done and officially be Silver Guppy. Hehehe." She grinned, looking well and truly like a giddy teenager as she sat cross-legged on her childhood bed; "And I'm gonna talk to Humphrey. Whole Humphrey. He's the one who I hurt and the one whose feelings I care about helping right now."

"He's not mad at you. You know that, right?" Amy assured.

"I know, but...I'm mad at me. He can take as long as he wants to forgive me, I can accept that. But I wanna try and be there for him. Both parts." She explained; "You know, before this whole mess, I went to visit him in your room, his head bit....We actually had a really sweet moment. I gave him space after because I thought that's what he wanted, but-."

"Word of advice? Humphrey's not the sort of guy who asks for attention. Especially when he really needs it." Said Amy.

"So he's like....the Anti-Thomas?"

"Pretty much."

They both laughed at that. Silver felt a little more confident about facing the Tudor when she awoke now. She'd dedicate the rest of her afterlife to trying to look after him in Amy's absence if she needed to, whether he thought of her as a friend or not. He deserved better than to be left alone in the dark.

A fate she knew all too well.

"How much longer do you have?" Silver asked her friend.

"As long as you want. Time works roughly the same up there as the old world...but dreams are weird."

"Preaching to the choir." She smiled; "...Wanna play some games?"

"Sure. What you got?"

Silver shuffled forward and retrieved a purple cube with a handle from a cabinet, setting it out and unravelling many tangled black wires.

"What is that?!" Amy pointed at the box.

"It's a Gamecube! The best console ever! Please tell me Nintendo still existed when you died."

"Oh, is it like...an old Wii?"

"Dude, the Wii was literally just a Gamecube with motion controls." She said, having watched Mike play some Mariokart with his friend Obi one time. "Here, this is a classic. The first Resident Evil, remade!"

She pressed the button and brought the wired controller up onto the bed, the two girls laying on their front on the edge of bed.

"Damn, check out those graphics. It's like watching the first Toy Story." Amy commented.

"Oi, this was like cutting edge realism in my day!"

"Dude, you can see all the angles on their jackets. And all those rocks in the background are blurred together."

"Shut up or I won't let you shoot any zombies!"

Funny enough, in life she'd never had a friend come up to her room to play video games with her. Even her brother wasn't interested, preferring to stick to playing GTA on his own console. Silver watched, amused, as Amy took the controller for the first part, controlling Jill Valentine as she explores the zombie infested mansion.

Quietly, she sent a prayer up to whatever god had blessed her with this chance to still spend time with her friend, despite being separated by two worlds. For a brief moment, her heart panged for Robin, who she doubted in all these years had a chance to speak to those he lost. Then the sympathy passed; perhaps that was what happened when you built a literal cave around your heart.

She would never let herself become that. Never shut herself off from feeling what it means to be human. To love, to lose, to grieve, to make silly mistakes with the best of intentions. She'd take friendship over cold, hard wisdom any day.

"Fucking TWAT!" Amy cursed as she failed to shoot one creature in time as it grabbed Jill and sunk it's teeth into her neck; "What is up with this shit camera?! This game is rigged!"

"We can play Animal Crossing if you prefer?"

"Fuck off, I'm blowing this assholes head off." She said, determined, making Silver giggle.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Can I have a platonic Ewan McGregor and Keanu Reeves matchup?

I am a 20 yr old lesbian who has natural brown hair but I dye it (currently light pink),brown eyes, anxiety,depression,ADHD,autism,and 2 anxiety disorders

Likes

Yellow,Sweaters,Music (70's-mid 00's),True Crime,Flowers,Animals,Writing,Sweets,Food,Video Games,Movies,Stuffed Animals,Blankets,Cosplay,Weed,Incense,Tattoos,Friends,and Family

Hates

Spiders,Bullying,Yelling,Racism,Abuse,Snakes,Any type of pain,Sexism,Being Alone,Loud Noises,Not being good enough,Lying,Homophobia,Hot weather,Being sick,Transphobia,Being used, Arguing,and any type of Addiction

Thank you for requesting another matchup!!! <33

Ewan McGregor;

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

🌟 You were a jedi just like Obi-Wan, joining him on missions and adventures with his Padawan, Anakin

🌟 You became the best of friends real quick, always having each other's back, and always making sure each other are alright after each mission

🌟 Before, when you first met him, you became his Padawan, and Obi taught you everything; he was surprised how quickly you accomplished everything, becoming a Jedi just as quick

🌟 Upon becoming a jedi you were gifted your chance to find/choose a saber crystal, in which you immediately chose the yellow one; resulting your saber to be bright yellow

🌟 You and Obi would go to restaurants and other foodie places when you had nothing to do, you were both always wary of others, but always had a great time

🌟 Sometimes when you feel too overwhelmed, Obi is there to calm you down, whether hugging you or meditating with you, he's always there

🌟 When Anakin joined the two of you, he instantly became your brother from another mother, always pranking Obi with you and sometimes fooling around

🌟 You'd fly with Obi sometimes, though he hated doing it, you'd make sure Anakin didn't do anything drastic if he was flying though; don't want Obi to get sick

🌟 On some missions, before you both go to bed, he'd watch the stars with your or go for a walk with you through a sunflower-ish garden

🌟 Obi is the bestest friend you could ever have, and you could always rely on him

--

Keanu Reeves;

John Wick:

🔫 You met John when he came back into working as a Hitman, as a hitman yourself, you were sometimes paired with him on certain hitman-y missions

🔫 He was sort of closed off at first when you met, but after a while he grew to like you a bit, even giving you advice on fighting techniques

🔫 When he did try and teach you, you'd practice and spar together, impressing each other with how good you were

🔫 One time he actually complimented you, and that made you really happy that you broke down his walls a bit, though he was still quite and sometimes brooding, you were glad to have him as your friend

🔫 Sometimes, when you went on hitman missions together, which was rare, you'd have a blast taking the baddies down

🔫 And sometimes, when either of you get hurt or something, you both fix each other up; no matter how stubborn John got (sometimes you'd braid his hair, rarely)

🔫 You and John are amazing working together, fighting baddies and taking them down with ease, as if it was both second nature and some dark dance for you

🔫 On the rare chance you have a day or two off, you and John would go get tea or coffee, talking out work discreetly and sometimes about your personal lives; John found out how much you love sweaters

🔫 You even got to meet his dog, Dog; you loved that Pitbull and would die for him

🔫 You were so glad you had a friend like John, someone who sort of understood you and always had your back

[jurassicsickfics]

Enjoy this fluffy friendship one-shot that I wrote while bored lol.

Title: Those Darn Waterworks

Annie Brackett hardly ever cried. In all their 17 years of friendship, with the obvious exception of when they were babies, Laurie could only remember 7 occasions where Annie had cried, really cried. Four of those times had been the deaths of pets, and the other three were bad injuries. But, one sleepy Monday at school, Laurie noticed that something was off about Annie. She usually started off their walk together to school with a snarky comment, but all she got this morning was a plain old "good morning".

Naturally, Laurie had watched her best friend like a hawk all through school, and she made a mental note of the fact that Annie had barely touched her lunch, and had gone to the bathroom at least once during every class. Her first thought was that Annie was sick, and she leaned against her as they sat side by side as a subtle way of testing for a fever. She didn't feel warmer than usual, so, that was a relief.

After the school day was over, Laurie decided to ask Annie what was up. The words, "Are you ok?" Had barely left Laurie's mouth before Annie's face turned beet red and scrunched up as she started to sob.

Laurie's eyes widening in shock and concern.

"A-Annie?! What's wrong?!" She exclaimed, trying to decide what move to make. But Annie decided for her; she dramatically fell into Laurie's arms and bawled into her shoulder. Laurie wrapped her arms tightly around Annie's back and rubbed her back.

"Hey, hey...it's ok, I've got you...please, Annie, tell me what's wrong. This isn't like you..."

Annie sniffled and lazily rubbed her nose on her friend's chest. "I-its nothing...I'm fine.."

"Anne Marie Brackett, we both know you are not fine. C'mon, you know you can be honest with me." Laurie said, sternly but gently.

Annie let out a few hiccups and said, "He...he left me.."

"Who?" Laurie responded, wiping at Annie's tear streaked cheeks with her thumb.

"Paul..."

Laurie's expression fell. "Oh Annie...I'm so sorry..."

And with that, the brunette burst into tears again, burying her face into Laurie's chest.

"H-he...ca-called me...last night...he...he just said...i-its over..he didn't even say...w-why..." Annie choked, hot tears streaming down her cheeks like tiny rivers.

"He dumped you over the phone?! That jerk..." Laurie hissed, her voice dripping with protective venom.

"Do I need to turn him into a missing person poster?" Laurie asked, gripping Annie's shaking shoulders.

Annie managed a weak chuckle. "N-no...that's ok.."

"Tell ya what, why don't you stay with me tonight. I'll help you get your mind off of him." Laurie offered.

Annie looked up at her. "You mean with booze?"

"No, silly! Ice cream and sappy movies like a normal person." Laurie replied.

Annie giggled. "You won't judge me if I cry like a baby all night, will you?"

"Of course not! Crying is healthy. " Laurie answered.

That night, the teenagers were snuggled up together on the couch, Annie sobbing softly into Laurie's shoulder between mouthfuls of ice cream. Laurie kept her arm tight around Annie's shoulders, occasionally offering sweet nothings to comfort her. There were tissues strone about and Laurie's shoulder was damp with tears.

"Sorry about all the waterworks..." Annie squeaked, snuggling closer against Laurie's side.

Laurie's response was soft and loving, with a hint of humor in her tone.

"Don't worry about it. That's what friends are for, laughing together, giving each other advice, and putting up with those darn waterworks."

[annestie]

Reform Unfrosts The Heart

Summary: Loki goes to another "team bonding" activity and meets an intriguing teen boy.

Pairing: Loki & Peter (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,189

Notes: Shocking, isn't it? Another non-avatar fic. Two of my closest friends just happen to have the same fandom preferences and b-days a week apart lol.

This is a gift for one of my closest friends. Frost, yes the title is bit of a pun on what we call you. In the years I've known you, I have definitely thought a lot more about burning people in Ikeas than before and you always got some good recs (that I will eventually get to lmao). I hope you lovely birthday and party (tomorrow). I'm so happy to give this to you, I tried my best with the prompt and I hope you like it too!

This was very fun to write, I'm slowly crawling into this fandom one birthday fic at a time!

Loki and the Avengers have a complicated relationship to say the least. It probably stems from him trying to take over the world and nearly accomplishing it. Though, now they aren’t friends per say, you could hardly even say acquittances, but Loki doesn’t wear handcuffs just to be around them anymore.

Thor even sometimes brings him around for what he calls “team bonding” which so far has been mostly terrible movies and equally terrible boardgames. Loki would skip any and all of them for the entire future but rather unfortunately if he doesn’t go, he’ll have to stay with the even more annoying ones in Asgard with no Thor to distract them.

Though this time is different. A dinner. Finally something Loki could enjoy. That isn’t to say that he will or would but there is now a possibility he may.

Thor has them use the Bifrost to get to the tower. Loki could have teleported them though he is apparently not trusted with “such magic items” around the Avengers and if he wishes to stay in their good graces, his scepter shall be as far away from him when they’re around. Reform is horrible.  

They land just outside Avengers tower. Scarring those walking nearby. Thor forces them to use the elevator as well, saying they need to act more like those around them. The dreaded thing. It climbs ever so slowly to the top, though Loki has been told that this one is faster than others. At the very least, they have one specifically for them and the Avengers, so they needn’t to stop for others.

Loki can’t imagine that causing panic would be the best, sure he’s reformed but the people don’t know that. Plus he really doesn’t need to see his brother fawned over more. He has heard the word “selfie” too many times the last visits.

When the elevator finally stops, the two immediately step out and begin towards the kitchen, where chaos is.

Apparently, there hadn’t been a chosen cook. Instead four of them are simply running around the kitchen like chickens with their heads cut off as they attempt to make enough food for what Loki presumes are Thor and Roger which ends up looking like enough for an army.

Loki ignores this, walking past the mess of a kitchen and towards the living room where he’ll undoubtedly spend quite a bit of his time while the food is being prepared. In the living room, he finally finds something of interest.

“Can I go out?” A younger boy asks, no older than his late teens.

“You know the agreement, finish the homework,” Stark, surprisingly, responds, his arms folded as he looks at the boy. He looks almost father-like.

Which is strange for the last time Loki was brought here, he doesn’t’ remember a child though fairly this child seems intent on leaving so perhaps he simply wasn’t here. Loki discretely listens closer.

“I did it earlier,” The boy says with a smile.

Sighing, Stark nods his head. “Alright but come back for dinner. You know May hates when you don’t eat.”

“Thanks!” The boy yells as he rushes off.

Raising an eyebrow, Loki turns to Thor. “Who was that?” Loki asks. “Beside Stark, the child.”

“Ah!” Thor says, wrapping an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Peter. He lives here. Sometimes. The team has a bet going on if he’s Stark’s son.”

“Bet?”

“Neither claim relation but both act as father and son,” Thor explains.

Loki hums. Finally something to entertain his stays in this tower. “How do I join this bet?”

Dinner comes around. The table set and the food all put out and all they’re waiting for is the child, Peter, at the insistence of Stark, and Barton, who is not a child yet has failed to show up on time.

Though Loki has been stealing bites ever since he sat down at the table, even reformed he has to keep some level of mischief. And, yes, it has come down to stealing bites of food.  

Peter is the first to get to the table. He rushes out of the elevator and immediately takes his spot next to Stark which happens to be across from Loki. He makes his apologies, saying that something had come up.

Suddenly and quite dramatically, Barton enters the room, obviously furious. “What did you do to my hearing aid?!” he yells to Stark as he points to his now elf shaped ear.

Stark immediately burst out laughing. “I didn’t do anything but how does it feel having your true form, Legolas?” he says, amused.

“Do you like it?” Peter asks Barton with a huge smile.

This causes the ‘elf’ to pause. The anger that was once coming off him in waves, gone. “You did this?” Barton asks, slowly.

“Yeah! I had some extra parts and I thought it would be nice,” Peter explains.

Barton looks conflicted as he takes his seat at the table. “It looks great, kid.”

Loki tilts his head as he looks at the sly grin making its way onto Peter’s face, an idea already forming in his mind. Perhaps these visits needn’t be so boring and perhaps the God of mischief could finally regain a bit of his favorite pastime back.

Having to enlist a teenager to help him get away with mischief is not something Loki thought he would have to resort to. But he also thought he would never reform. So, maybe the unlikely isn’t that unlikely.

Either way, whether Loki is proud of it or not, he ends up alone with Peter just a bit after dinner though before Thor is done with socializing.

“Starkson,” Loki calls the child. He had joined the bet a little before dinner and, after seeing the two interact and the ways Stark once lived, saw the possibility of their relation.

“Uh,” Peter says as he looks up at Loki, confused. “Loki, sir?” Rather polite, unusual for a Stark but maybe he takes from his mother more.

“What you did to Barton was amusing,” Loki states. “Perhaps, you wish to learn more.”

“What?”

“You have a knack for not getting in trouble and the others don’t exactly trust me. I could teach you my tricks, guide you and help you enact them,” Loki explains.

Peter’s brain sort of short circuits at this point. It’s not only because Loki is apparently calling him ‘Starkson’, he honestly thought that was a Thor thing, but it seems more Asgardian now. Also, it’s the fact that Loki, a God, not someone Peter thought he would have any type of relationship with, has just offered to be his mischief mentor. A mentor to specifically prank the Avengers. Absolutely absurd.

“I do,” Peter immediately says. Because when the God of mischief offers to be your mentor, you don’t decline that offer. You never decline that offer even when it’s a past enemy, turned reformed prankster(?), of the world’s heroes.

Loki smiles. “I have much to teach you then.”

And like that an unlikely alliance is formed, readying to rain terror on the Avengers and anyone unlucky enough to be in the path.

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that percy and annabeth's ability to wordlessly communicate on the battlefield isn't because of years of training as soldiers. but because their signals are just layers upon layers of inside jokes. like, annabeth makes a finger gun motion toward a monster and everyone thinks she's telling percy to shoot it. except only he knows she's actually directing him to throw something the size of burrito at it. or, percy making a slit-throat motion toward an annoying camper and everyone thinks he telling annabeth to hurt them. but only she knows he's actually asking her to insult the camper so badly that the insult cuts to the bone.

[kamaluhkhan]

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

pairing: werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader word count: 11.1 k summary: she's a monster, and you're essentially a monster hunter. it shouldn't work, but it does. (or — you and vi decide to escape the narrative together) warnings: ooh various mentions of fighting + blood + injuries ranging from mild to life-threatening; reader and vi both smoke + consume alcohol; rough sex (fingering [vi receiving], oral [reader receiving], tribbing, biting, spitting ++ aftercare); 18+ ! vibes are basically buffy the vampire slayer with chaotic lesbians loving each other so much it consumes them both a/n: i think i've been watching too much buffy and fantasizing about werewolf!vi for like,, too long,, and this unholy mess is the result. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WHILE but tonight is the wolf moon so it felt right to post now, i really hope y'all enjoy 🖤 i'll include credit for each subtitle in the tags too <33

♪: "bullet with butterfly wings" by the smashing pumpkins; "dig me out" by sleater-kinney; "taste my despair" by lesbian bed death; "i wanna be your dog" by joan jett; "fantastic" by king princess

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

vi wakes up with a terrible motherfucking headache, which isn’t anything new. 

she doesn’t know where she is — that isn’t particularly something new, either — but what is new is the tongue slobbering all over her face. when she opens her eyes, vi sees a 50-pound black dog standing over her.

“whoa!” vi sits up abruptly, but the dog only gets more excited and jumps up on the couch, caging her in.

“sorry. she usually isn’t so enthusiastic about company.”

the voice is coming from the other side of the room, where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress closest to the window. there’s a cigarette in your hand, and each time you exhale, you point your chin accordingly so the smoke travels outside. a crisp breeze trickles in. 

“morning, killer.”

vi swallows the heart that has jumped into her throat, takes a deep breath to steady her breathing. fuck, she literally just moved here and might already need to leave. she tries to remember if something bad happened last night. 

it wasn’t the full moon, was it? no, that shouldn’t be for another few weeks. but then why are you calling her a —

“killer?” she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

she stares at you, eyes trailing your injured jawline as she waits for you to respond. you do look vaguely, achingly familiar. whatever happened last night, you were probably part of it. 

“well, you’ve got a killer right hook,” you quip. you snuff out your cigarette and twist around to fully face vi. “and i’m pretty sure you killed my reputation as a pit fighting champion. i was undefeated before you.” 

fresh blood emerges from your split lip as you speak, and you’re quick to swipe it away with your tongue. 

oh. right. 

your tank top is torn at the bottom, just cropped enough that vi can see the imprint of her fist on your lower ribs. she now remembers the feeling of yours on the side of her face, and has a bloody, crusted eyebrow, painfully tender cheekbone, and the outline of your ring seared onto her skin forever to prove it. 

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

vi takes note of her surroundings to get a better sense of who she’s up against: the place is small, dingy, but has a good amount of light. you’ve got a broken mirror, old books stacked in the corner, and an open cupboard filled with clothing and various weapons, mostly daggers and some wooden stakes. an intricate glass cross dangles from the centre of the window, filtering through multicolored light. there are a bunch of dried plants next to a mortar and pestle on the sill below — nightshade, juniper, wolfsbane. on the tiny kitchen counter is a silver vase filled with more wilted flowers. 

even from far away, vi can hear your heartbeat — strong, steady — as you shuffle around and gather some things. she inhales your scent. she remembers that she was slightly taken aback, in the pit when she had you pinned to the mat, that under the musk of sweat and metallic tang of blood, vi sensed something else, something delicate and floral. 

your whole apartment smells overwhelmingly of dried roses and decaying fruit, too, sweet and earthy.

“did you bring me here for round two?”

“no.” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “i brought you here so that some creep wouldn’t take advantage of you. you were pretty out of it.”  

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

“no fucking way,” you declare, and vi can practically feel rage coursing through you, your heart pumping with reignited vigor. “like an enforcer would care enough to actually help the undercity,” you grumble. 

you shake your head and sit down at the edge of the couch, shooing your dog away so you can drop first aid supplies in her place. she settles on the floor at your feet. 

you offer vi a somewhat bruised apple. when she hesitates, you push it into her hand.

“this isn’t a fairytale,” you say, hands busy soaking a cloth in some alcohol. “i’m not trying to poison you,” you add as if reading her mind.  

“there…there are some good enforcers, though,” vi tries, trained to have such platitudes at the ready.  

you roll your eyes. “if there are, i haven’t met them.” 

vi’s not sure she believes what she had said, either. she feels her side ache, a phantom bruise from when caitlyn slammed her rifle into the very injury she had once helped heal. 

what started as you’re not like the rest of those animals. you’re one of the good ones. became you’re all the same. it’s their blood in your veins. as soon as things went downhill. 

vi bites her lip to prevent herself from wincing, and it isn’t because you’ve pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on her nose. her sharp nails break through the skin of the apple, digging into its soft flesh until juice is running down her wrist.

“eat,” you insist, but you’re focused on removing as much dirt and dried blood from her face as you can, brows furrowed in concentration. “you ruined my reputation, so you better keep up your strength if you wanna keep yours.”

“so, you’re helping the enemy,” vi, still wary of you, wonders.

your frown softens. you place a bandage on the bridge of her nose before saying: 

“you’re not my enemy.” 

maybe it was the sincerity of your words, or the unconditional care you’re showing her, or the fact that it’s been so long since someone has touched vi so tenderly, but she decides in that moment to trust you, whoever you are. 

she takes a bite of the apple, the sweetness invading her mouth, as you lean over to search for something else in the first aid kit, mumbling to yourself about how the wound is deeper than you thought. 

“you should really be more careful,” you chide. “are you a topsider?”

vi scoffs through a mouthful of fruit. “i’m from the lanes.” 

“yeah, well this neighborhood is a different level of bad,” you tell her.

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

you start stitching up the cut on her eyebrow, one hand keeping her head steady. her cheek pulses against you as she chews, your skin calming and cool. 

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

“you didn’t have to help me,” vi grunts. “most people would’ve gone about their business.”

“i was going about my business. i was out on patrol; vampires never sleep, you know.” 

you say it so casually, almost too casually, that vi wonders if she misheard you.

“vampires?”

you raise an eyebrow at vi. “there’s a high concentration of them around here, near the hellmouth. a lot of monsters, actually —”

vi hopes you don’t notice how she shudders at the word monsters.

“ — some of whom can and will eat you alive if they get the chance,” you deadpan. “that’s kinda what i’m here for.”

“so….what are you, exactly?”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, your expression unreadable while you finish vi’s stitches, but your heart thumps so forcefully against your ribcage, vi almost thinks she’s seconds away from hearing the bones there crack. you start gnawing at your bottom lip, let the blood gather until it starts to trickle down towards your chin. vi swipes it away with her thumb, which she then wipes against her bandaged palm. 

you inhale slowly, then exhale. your heart rate eases; still a bit higher than most people’s, but to what seems to be normal for you. 

“the correct term is slayer,” you finally say, watching vi carefully for her reaction. 

vi isn’t quite sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good for someone like her. she’s wondering if she should make a run for it when you drop your voice an octave or two and add: 

“the chosen one standing against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” you clear your throat. “if you were wondering.” you break out into a cheeky grin, teeth sparkling in the late morning sun.

“you’re joking?”

“most days, i wish i was. that’s the official tagline, actually.” your smile shrinks into a sigh. “i’m the slayer. i won’t bore you with all the details, but me saving you last night? that’s kinda just what i do. my destiny, so to speak.”

“do you normally take the people you save home?”

you blink away, wipe your hands half-heartedly on the white tank top you’re wearing, smearing vi’s mess of crimson and grime.

“no,” you admit. 

vi narrows her eyes at you, shifts her body so there’s at least more space between you before she figures out what the hell to do. it’s possible that you’re lying but —

vi puffs out her chest. “why are you being so nice to me?” 

you already have her blood on your body, and vice versa, and not just because you’d been fighting each other. it’s not quite trust, but it feels like something close. something you’re willing to share without even knowing much about the other. 

an unspoken question: do you know what i really am? 

because if you did, vi’s sure you wouldn’t be so….friendly towards her. so gentle.

“honestly?” you gesture towards the dog who’s busy nuzzling into vi’s leg. “fangs kinda hates everyone but she seems to like you.”

her jaw drops. “you decided to be my guardian angel because your dog likes me?”

“i already had a good feeling about you before.” you shrug. “i took it as a good omen, i guess.” 

“i’m not sure you should,” vi advises. 

you’re looking out for her, so she should look out for you. it’s better, for everyone, that vi be left alone. 

she’s been good, had to learn how to be, in order to survive; that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. 

on the bad days, she can’t control her anger. on the worst days, she can’t contain her hunger.

“okay, well, maybe i’ve got a thing for strays,” you reach your hand down, run it through fangs’ thick black fur. your lips curl upwards as you look at vi, all bright-eyed and beautiful, sunlight itself emanating from your smile. 

something sparks in her chest that she thought would never light again. something that, like her, could be dangerous if it’s not controlled. 

vi decides it’s probably about time that she left, though it's difficult to tear herself from your warmth.

“so, will i see you in the pit again?” she still can’t help but ask as you accompany her to the door.

“probably, yeah.” you lean against the doorframe, and vi is about to turn the knob when you add: “but, that pub you passed outside of? the bronze? maybe we can, uh, get a drink there, afterwards sometime.”

your heart skips a beat or two as you anxiously wait for vi to say something. her entire body heats up when she realizes what’s going on.

you were….asking her out. 

the good thing is that then there’s no way you actually know what vi is because, well, would this even be allowed in your line of work?

“you promise you’re not just playing the long game? gaining my trust and then stabbing me in the back?”

you give her a playful but sincere smile and make a small ‘x’ on the left side of your upper chest. “cross my heart.”

“guess i’ll will call you my guardian angel,” she muses, her chest glowing. “i’m vi, by the way.” 

you grin, then formally introduce yourself. you reach out your hand. vi holds it, delicately, even though your grip is firm.

“one more thing, though — keep the whole me being the slayer thing under wraps? it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“why’d you tell me, then?” vi wonders, raising an eyebrow. 

you tilt your head, examining her. “like i said — i had a good feeling about you. slayers are meant to have good instincts, so i decided to trust mine.” 

vi takes a deep breath, removes her hand from yours, and glances at you once more with a small smile. she promises not to tell a soul. 

(she, of all people, knows that there are far worse secrets to keep.)  

“thank you,” vi adds. “for saving me.”

she hears fangs scratching at the door from inside the apartment after she’s gone, along with the deep rumble of your voice telling fangs not to worry, our new friend will visit again soon, like you’re so sure vi will be back. 

with the way you already have her sharp edges softening, her heart fluttering in her chest, vi probably will be. 

except —

vi’s not quite human, hasn’t been since she started bleeding between her legs at 13, since her mother told her that this was a blessing passed down to eldest daughters in their family, no matter how many people will try to convince her it’s a curse. 

it would be a few months later that her mother would be killed because of said blessing. 

really, it’s more nightmare. 

because vi knows what it’s like to pick ripped flesh from between her teeth, to have the metallic sweetness of blood linger on her tongue and throat-tearing screams ringing in her ears. 

meanwhile, you — with your good instincts, strong fists and stronger heart  —

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares. 

you’re the thing that monsters like her are supposed to have nightmares about.

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights. 

vi fights with bared teeth and burning rage, knuckles cracking against bone, elbows bruising skin without any remorse. her own wounds are half-hazardly hidden behind layers of gauze, her chest wrapped tightly to keep her heart from bleeding out. she doesn’t bother to clean the dirt underneath her nails, to wipe the blood from her upper lip after an opponent breaks her nose, to wash her face clean before smearing on more dark paint until all she sees in the mirror is a shadow of her former self. 

you, on the other hand: you’re precise and quick in how you defeat your opponents, maybe even a bit bored. vi figures that when you fight monsters for a living, it must be fairly dull, knocking out some guy with a single, well placed uppercut, even if he is twice your size. your bandages are always fresh, and you always make vi a little dizzy when she catches a whiff of rose. you walk past her with a playful grin, easily replaced by the glint of your razor-sharp canines as you defeat another opponent in the arena. she listens as your heartbeat barely increases a beat, despite the inevitable adrenaline of battle. 

you might not be as feral as her, but vi thinks you’re just as dangerous. she likes it, admires that your violence is always calculated rather than all-consuming. 

she does wonder if you’d ever let anything consume you, curious to know what’s hiding under your armor.

so, a few days after she first woke up in your apartment, vi builds up the courage to suggest: 

"whoever wins the most fights tonight picks up the tab for the bar." 

your face brightens the dim, dirty sidelines of the pit as you’re both waiting for your turn, when you answer:

"you're on, killer." 

later that night, both of your bodies are aching as vi tries to examine your injuries once you’re both done for the day, away from the roar of the crowd. 

"guess i'll be picking up the tab," you smile, your lip splitting open even more, just like the morning after her knuckles first kissed your skin. 

(she wants to kiss this wound closed, too, press her lips to your bloody ones, if you’d be willing to give her a taste.)

"i'll still take care of it, angel,” vi soothes. she rummages around the tiny locker room, a single light bulb flickering above you. finally, she finds a small first aid kit — poorly stocked, but good enough for now. “lemme take care of you first."

you must understand what vi’s implying, because your heart starts racing faster. 

it’s a routine that becomes vi’s guiding light — the two of you patching each other up after a rough day (and, regardless of the fact that you’re both strong, it’s always a rough day). you share a drink at the bronze, and then you’re off slaying vampires or whatever other nightmares will keep you awake and fighting every night. 

then, it’s another full moon, and the routine changes. 

she’s able to prevent herself from turning even in the worst of circumstances, but she doesn’t want to risk any accidents, knowing that you’re out there on the prowl. vi is confident that you’d never hurt, let alone kill her, but that’s counting on you being able to recognize her. 

vi locks herself in the basement of the bronze. spike, the bartender, let her crash in a storage closet, temporarily, no questions asked and a promise to keep it a secret.

she emerges from her isolation after three days, eyes stinging from the harsh morning sun. her first instinct is to head underground, search for you. she makes one stop beforehand, drops something off in the locker room before she’s ushered into the arena without any more preamble. 

the show must go on, and you’re already center stage. 

the lanky woman you must’ve just knocked unconscious is being dragged away. you spit out what looks like a combination of blood and saliva, and crack your neck before resuming a fighting stance, feet squared, bruised knuckles at the ready. 

you falter when you see that it’s vi who’s your next opponent. vi picks up the increased pace of your heart, the muscle worrying against your chest.  

you’ve had this conversation, though — about what would happen if you were ever up against each other again in the ring — and you both agreed: once the bell rings, the fight starts, because you both need the money to survive. 

nothing personal. winner buys two rounds of drinks at the bronze. three, if there were some nasty hits involved.

you hadn’t needed to worry about any of that until now.

the bell rings, and vi waits for you to make the first move, like you tend to do.

but, you don’t.

the first time you were up against each other, vi dodged your attack and delivered a jab hard enough to make you bleed. you had looked at her with wide eyes, fingers touching your bottom lip and becoming stained with red as the crowd roared. you adjusted your posture with a newfound interest, and a glimmer of what vi can only describe as hunger.

this time, you drop your stance like you’ve already lost the fight. you ignore the shouts and groans from the crowd as you walk away.

….

vi finds you in the locker room — and you’re not alone. 

“there a problem here?” vi asks, glaring at the guy you seem to be arguing with. 

“it’s fine,” you answer coolly. still, vi sits on the bench nearest to the door, waits for you like a patient dog. 

“fine?” the guy barks a laugh. he’s wearing topside clothes. an enforcer, no less. “you made me look like a fool.”

you scoff. “i doubt that’s hard to do.”

the guy suddenly reaches forward and snatches your arm. vi feels rage surge through her when his nails indent your skin. you must sense it, because your eyes lock with hers in a silent command not to do anything, not just yet.

“i don’t think you understand, bitch,” he seethes, face a pissed off shade of red. “i’m out more money than you’ll ever see in your entire pathetic life.” 

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

vi follows your gaze as it drops to his belt. he’s got his badge, a standard issue pistol, and a pouch full of gold coins. 

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.” 

you force a smile. “better luck next time, officer.” 

you finally rip your arm out of his grip, push him away abruptly, effectively manoeuvring him to stumble between where you’re standing, and vi’s waiting. you gesture towards vi with a smirk, a taunting dare for this enforcer to challenge two of the undercity’s best fighters. 

vi gets up just as he’s walking out, grumbling an incoherent string of swears. she not-so-subtly knocks into his shoulder and hip, her nimble fingers still quick.

“guess we can get dinner with our drinks, now,” she quips with a toothy grin. vi tosses you the pouch, but you don’t seem too thrilled, even as you catch it effortlessly. 

“you can’t just disappear like that, vi.” your voice sharp, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“i didn’t mean to,” vi lies, walking over to open your shared locker. she pulls out a bouquet of roses, the same deep red as dried blood. 

vi pouts, gives you her best puppy dog eyes. “i’m sorry, angel.” 

the only reaction she gages from you is a quickening heartbeat at the nickname, your face still hard to crack marble. 

“this is serious, vi.” 

“i know! but —”

“do you know what’s out there? i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful,” you rush, walking over to her and talking with your hands. “i looked everywhere for you, and….and you just left without saying anything. i thought…i thought you’d been killed —”

your blood roars in vi’s ears, your pulse close to out of control, and vi doesn’t know what else to do except bring you into her arms in an attempt to calm you down.

“i’m okay, angel. i’m here. i’m right here,” vi mumbles against your shoulder, inhaling sweat and roses.

your heart starts beating steady against her own as you exhale.

“i was safe, i promise. i was in the supply close at the bronze.”

“are you kidding?” you guffaw, unravelling yourself from vi’s body. “that basement is a hellhole.”

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

“well, i guess now that i lost one of my best sponsors, fangs and i might have to move in there with you,” you deadpan.

you reach around vi to pull a jacket from the locker, slipping on worn leather that vi realizes is hers. you take the flowers from her with a small thank you, and vi adjusts the collar of her jacket on you, her warm fingers subtly grazing your pulsepoint. vi can’t help the possessiveness that sparks in her abdomen: you, wearing her clothes; you, heart beating rapidly for her. 

“well…what if….i moved in with you?” deep down, she knows it’s not an ideal situation, but vi reasons: “we can pool our money together for rent. besides, what’s another stray in your home?” 

you bite your bottom lip as you mull over the offer.

“well, you did buy me flowers, ask me out to dinner….seems like the logical next step.”

“so….” 

vi wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you finally crack a smile. 

it was only been three days apart and vi already felt deprived of the sunlight of your smile. 

“okay, killer. as long as you don’t make a habit of disappearing on me.”

….

on paper, there might be reasons why you and vi, together, shouldn’t work, but the simple truth is that you do.

you still spend your afternoons engulfed in the darkness of the underground arena, patch each other up at the end of the day, share drinks at the bronze before parting ways.

now, in the mornings, you spend a few hours training together, moving furniture around so there’s enough space to spar. you try not to get distracted by how hot her skin is every time it brushes against yours, how solid her thigh is between your legs when she’s adjusting your stance, how a shattered moan emerges from her lips as you pin her to the floor after showing her a new technique to catch an opponent off-guard.

the nights are your favourite, though. like fangs, vi is able to fall asleep anywhere in the apartment, and is usually passed out by the time you’re off the clock from slayer duty. after the first few nights, you insist that vi sleep on the bed, and she begrudgingly agrees. now, you get home just before dawn, bone-tired, to find her belly up, drooling and snoring on top of the dilapidated mattress. the moonlight illuminates all the curves and shadows of her sculpted body, her skin shimmering with sweat because her body runs warm, even on the coldest nights. you can see the trail of pink hair disappear beneath her black underwear, while her dyed-black hair is a tangled mess you’re tempted to tug at, curious to see if she’d moan again for you. vi sleeps shirtless, nipples winking at you like two fallen stars with those titanium rods pierced through. 

gods, you try not to drool when you slip under the covers and fall asleep dreaming of her, all the places you would sink your teeth into, all the places you wish she would do the same. 

(meanwhile, vi tries to ignore the sound of your whimpers, the quick tempo of your heartbeat, and the overwhelming musk of desire between your legs as you sleep next to her, because she’s so sure that you would never dream of her.)

these fantasies of vi, all her warmth, all her chaos, gnaw at you from the inside out. it’s an overwhelming sense of hunger, but with vi, you also feel something else, something gentler and more fragile building between you.

it’s really the little things. 

like, vi brings you fresh roses every week, and even though you keep telling her to save her winnings for better things, she tells you that pretty girls like you are worth it, angel. they should teach you that in slayer school. 

she winks, makes you flustered, then has the audacity to blush when you leave her the ripest apples because you know that she likes them a bit sweeter. 

sometimes you open the window as you share a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the starlit twilight as you exchange stories about your pasts, about the people you’ve loved and lost. she’s the first person you confide in about how weighed down you feel by the responsibility of being the slayer, a burden that’s cost you many loved ones, and the uncertainty of whether what you’re destined to do is truly what is good for the world. she tells you about her time in prison, the lonely nights lamenting the death of her father and brothers, but keeping her strength because she hoped to one day make it back to a sister she just ended up losing, anyways. 

other times, the two of you play a game. you imagine that you’re elsewhere, that there are no such things as monsters, no reason to have to battle and bruise yourselves just to survive. instead, you have a life and a family and a home together, filled with luxurious parties, decadent dinner tables, and endless sunny days. 

you comfort her and she comforts you through the dark, morbid world you both have been fighting against, alone, for so long.

it works. it works really well. 

except — you’ve been the slayer long enough to know that nothing this good will last. it's nauseating — dangerous, even — this desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut, twisting and taunting you with what can never be.

you’re just waiting for the next nightmare to reveal itself.

….

vi’s hair has started to fade back to pink, so she asks you to re-dye it.

it’s easy to forget that she sits in a rickety chair in your decrepit but well-loved apartment because all she can think about is your body behind hers, solid and steady. your cool fingers work the dye through her hair, your nails scrape against her scalp, and you’re humming as fangs snores peacefully at her feet. she’s died and gone to heaven, pure bliss glowing in her chest and releasing through her throat as a deep rumble. 

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

just you and your sunburst smile and your soft, rose-petal skin.

there’s a firm knock that rustles vi out of her reverie, and you tell her to go rinse out her hair while you answer it.

she can hear you talking with someone through the rush of hot water. she tries not to eavesdrop, but…it’s difficult, especially once she hears:

“it’ll be fine. silver bullets usually do the trick,” you say, without much enthusiasm. vi bites back her hurt, keeps rinsing her hair, waiting for the water to run clear instead of sludge gray. 

you’re not talking about her. 

“i’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” a voice with a thick british accent replies. “i’ve been on the council for fifty years — five times longer than you’ve been the slayer — and i’ve never seen something quite this vicious.”

“my guess is you don’t get out in the field much,” you quip. 

whoever you’re talking to clearly is not amused, ignoring your backhanded comment and instead offering the details of what has been witnessed in the past few days. it’s so gruesome and gory that vi herself is shivering as she turns off the shower, towels off, and gets dressed. 

when vi opens the door, she almost trips over fangs, who’d fallen asleep just outside. she gets up immediately as vi steps out, her tail wagging. the owner of the stern voice — a man wearing a very pristine looking tweed suit — is handing you a crossbow, a bunch of silver-tipped arrows already splayed on the table. you notice vi first as your grip on the weapon tightens, and the man’s gaze follows.

“you know there’s a rule about slayers keeping….pets,” the man says, turning his nose up at vi and fangs from where they’re still standing at the doorway of the bathroom. 

you glance back at the pair, jaw clenched, and then focus back on your unwanted guest. 

“mr. travers, thank you for the heads up, but i believe it’s time for you to leave,” you clip, dropping the crossbow on the table. 

“actually, i believe that we have much more to discuss, namely how you’ve allowed this mutt into your home —”

“get the fuck out of our apartment,” you practically growl. you walk towards him menacingly until his back is millimeters away from the door. “you of all people know what i can do.”

“you will be punished for this…this transgression,” travers warns, but there’s an unmistakable tremble in his voice. 

you laugh in a way vi can barely recognize, sharp and bitter. 

“fine. i’m no stranger to dealing with the council’s bullshit.” you open the door, flash an exaggerated, sickly sweet smile. “have a nice day.”

“i hope this animal is worth it,” travers huffs. 

“she’s worth it,” you reply without hesitation before you slam the door on his ass, so hard that the walls shake, the vase in the kitchen toppling over and cracking on the counter. 

vi’s seen you fight in the pit — hell, she’s been on the receiving end of some of your wicked moves — but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen you this angry. 

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth. 

“so that sounds….bad,” vi remarks, heading over to the kitchen counter to gather the broken shards of pottery.

you freeze. “how much did you hear?” 

vi just shrugs. “just that there’s something bad out there —”

“don’t worry about it,” you say with a forced smile. you walk over and push some damp hair away from vi’s eyes. “let’s take fangs for a walk before we leave, yeah? while it’s still light out.” 

there are whispers throughout the next few days leading up to the full moon. the crowd at the arena starts to thin, most topsiders too scared to journey underground with rumors of a bloodthirsty monster on the loose. 

you’re not sleeping anymore, still fighting during the day to a half-empty arena, out on patrol at night, your rosy scent fading from the bedsheets with each passing night. even if you get home before dawn, you spend your time scouring through books and scribbling into your notebook, mumbling to yourself theories about where and how you can stop this thing. vi tries to get you to take a break, or at least eat instead of burning through shimmer-laced cigarettes to keep yourself awake.

the best vi can do is convince you to sit down on the couch with her and share a snack. you settle for doing some research, flip through yellowed pages as you take a bite of an apple, juice dripping down your chin. 

vi reaches her finger out, puts it in her mouth to suck off the juice, moaning around the salty-sweet taste of your skin. you let out a pleased hum, turning your attention back to your research, but angling your body to invite her closer. vi nuzzles into your side, puts her head on your lap, twitches in pleasure as you reach down to scratch behind her ear. 

she looks up at you, and you finally give her a real smile — the first ray of sun after a pitch dark night.

a slice of paradise vi was certain she’d never find.

….

the night of the full moon is when all hell breaks loose. 

vi tries — she begs you not to go out there, sensing that tonight, of all nights, it will be at its strongest. but you, too headstrong and too righteous for your own good, just won’t listen. 

“this thing has killed eleven people in less than a week. i don’t care what phase of the moon it is — i’m ending this, tonight.” 

“why does it have to be you? that thing is stronger than anything you’ve ever fought!” 

“which is why i’ve been preparing,” you snap.

“can’t you – can’t you just call the fucking council, or something, tell them to deal with it?” 

fangs is right there with vi, scrambling and whining as you’re meticulously arming yourself with as many weapons you can carry.

you scoff, notching a few silver blades to your belt. “it’s not their responsibility, it’s mine. where the fuck — i can’t go out only in this tank top, it’s fucking freezing — ”

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

“you’re gonna die if you go out there alone.”

“yeah, well, i’ve accepted my fate a long time ago,” you say stoically. 

you’re fairly well supplied at this point; if vi was the monster you were hunting, she’d be running scared from a glance alone. you’re only half paying attention to vi’s pleas, and sigh in relief when you find what you’d been looking for. 

“please, angel, don’t —”

“i was literally born for this, violet. if i don’t go out and stop this thing from killing more people, then my life is worth nothing.” 

“you make me happy!” she shouts desperately, forcing you to pause as you slip on her jacket. “that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

a tense silence follows. 

you freeze for a few moments, avoiding vi’s gaze. then, you walk over to the cabinet, grabbing something so quickly vi can’t pinpoint what it is and stuffing it in your back pocket. you clench and unclench your left fist, a tick of yours that vi recognizes from the arena. 

you’re planning your next move. 

in a daze, you pick up the crossbow, but you hesitate once more —

“fuck,” you exhale before letting the weapon clatter to the ground and rushing over to crash your lips against vi’s. 

you’re kissing and kissing, teeth and tongue and a pleasure so guilty, vi’s sure she’ll be damned for all eternity. vi’s lungs are burning when she pulls away first.

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

“i still have to go,” you interrupt, voice determined and sharp, cutting right through to vi’s heart.

there’s a fear curling up her throat as you watch her, your eyes the darkest she’s ever seen them. 

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

you kiss her again. you taste so heavenly, better than she ever dreamed of, that vi doesn’t even care that it’s probably just to shut her up. 

she almost doesn’t notice that you’ve cornered her between the kitchen counter and the front door, until she hears a distinct click, feels something heavy and burning against her wrists. 

you pull away first this time, eyes glazed over as you back away to make space between you and what you’ve done:

vi, handcuffed to the exposed heating pipe. the cuffs are stronger than any vi has ever been bound by. must be made of real silver. the metal sears into her skin, down to the bone, as she struggles against them, screaming to the point of howling, watching as you pick up the crossbow and a handful of silver tipped arrows as a final hail mary.

“no!” she cries. the pipe you’d cuffed her to rattles, but it doesn’t give. “please, please don’t —”

“i’m…i’m really sorry,” you mumble, quickly wiping away a tear. vi flinches when you try to touch her cheek; she bares her teeth at you like a rabid beast, but you don’t give her the courtesy of a reaction.  

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

“because….you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

you take a deep breath. you look at fangs, affectionately pat her head as she bows her head and whines, tail between her legs. “bring her the key once it’s morning,” you instruct. your eyes slide over to vi’s, for what she fears might be the last time. “take care of each other.”

with that, you’re out the door.

vi isn’t sure how much time passes. her wrists sting, her muscles ache, but still, she keeps going. she doesn’t care how, but she’s not letting you die tonight. 

a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. something claws at her ribcage. 

you’re not dying tonight. 

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

the streets are empty, deserted due to fear and damp from the cold evening rain.

you search through the shadows, around every corner, play with one of your daggers just to pass the time, the blade weaving between your expert fingers.

all you can really think about, though, is vi, and how scared she was to lose you, and how terribly you must have hurt her — 

fuck. 

you accidentally sliced through your palm, your blood emerging as thick, black tar in the darkness. you sigh and kneel down in the alleyway, dropping your heaviest weapon so you can use your uninjured hand to wrap the other. 

something pounces on you before you can stop the bleeding. the crossbow — the weapon that was supposed to deliver a fatal blow — is now out of reach. 

you jab one of your silver blades into the creature’s side; he howls, but you manage to kick him away long enough to get to your feet, get a better sense of what you’re fighting. you’ve never seen anything like it before: a hulking mass roughly five times your size, wolf-like features, and chemical machinery woven throughout his body, a neon green liquid pumping through glass tubes. 

the beast growls at you, lunges forward once again; you jump out of his path, roll away so run, fast, and grab the crossbow. you quickly notch a silver tipped arrow, aim at his heart; you hold your breath and fire without hesitation. then another, and another, just to be safe.  

your stomach turns as you watch the creature remove the arrows as if they were nothing but splinters. he lets out a roar that shakes the earth. you’ve made him angrier.

you drop the crossbow, deciding instead to propel yourself off the wall, leap onto the beast’s shoulders and stab the glass tubes with all the force you can muster. green liquid gushes out, and the beast howls in pain, but doesn’t give up. with sharp claws, he throws you to the ground, and you shriek as he tears through the skin of your ribs. 

you’re very suddenly dizzy, bleeding out on the cobblestones, yet continue to struggle with whatever strength still courses through your veins. the beast looms over you, foaming at the mouth, and your vision is getting fuzzier by the second.

that’s when you see a flash of dark fur, almost fuschia in the moonlight, jump in front of you, knock the beast out of the way, tumble to the side. you glance at the creature that saved you — a wolf with a fierce set of teeth and beautiful powder blue eyes — before you fall unconscious. 

iv. stitch me up (touch me inside and out)

vi barely registers that the temperature in the apartment is dropping.

she doesn’t regret how she had to rip the heating pipe from the wall — there are nasty burns, still untreated, stinging her wrists where the silver cuffs had restrained her. 

she doesn’t regret transforming from human to something wild, unrestrained, in order to save you from something much worse. 

she’s still burning off adrenaline, her nervous system on high alert. it’s been a while, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be.

it all happened so fast. there was something oddly familiar about the beast; he seemed to recognize vi, too. that’s the only explanation — for all the ruthless, bloody stories she’d heard, why else would he have let vi take you away and just disappear into the night without so much as a growl? 

vi doesn’t have the energy to answer such questions. all she cares about is you. she can’t get over the overwhelming scent of your blood, already spilling out onto the street when she showed up. she almost lost control, blinded by rage and a desire to kill the beast — but you were there, on the brink of death, and she just wanted you to be safe, wanted to bring you home.

she just hopes she wasn’t too late. 

vi hyper-focuses on your labored, disjointed breaths from where she tucked you in. she tried her best to stop the bleeding and dress your wounds with combinations of herbs and flowers she frantically read about in one of your books, desperate to keep you alive. 

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood. 

vi wants nothing more than to curl up on the bed next to you, but after you saw her last night, once you realize that she’s no different than the savage beast you were so determined to kill, she’s not sure you’d want her near you. 

she’ll just stay long enough to know that you’ll wake up, and then she’ll be out of your life forever. 

dawn breaks. the sun shines through cracked, frost covered windows, and your eyes remain shut.

your heart’s still pumping blood, which is a good sign, but otherwise….

day bleeds into night, and you’re still out cold. vi manages to drip some water between your parted lips, and watches with relief as your throat reacts accordingly. you let out a gentle sigh, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. 

“please wake up,” vi whispers. 

fangs jumps onto the bed and whimpers, nudging her nose against your arm so that she’s snuggled underneath. vi drapes a blanket over the pair of you.

another sleepless night passes.

at first light, vi changes your bandages. she struggles a bit, given her injured wrists, but she’s pleased to find you healing from what might have been a fatal injury to most humans. she tries to feed fangs, but the dog refuses. 

fair enough — vi can’t bring herself to eat, either. 

instead, to pass the time, vi glues together shards from the broken vase and places it back on the kitchen counter. there are no more fresh roses; vi decides she’ll bring you some as a parting gift once you’ve woken up. 

you’re shivering by the time darkness starts to creep in. vi piles as many blankets as she can on you and fangs, but it’s not enough. vi accepts what she had been reluctant to do: she slips into bed next to you, uses her body to keep you warm, arms wrapped around you protectively.

vi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up late the next afternoon, to cold rumpled sheets and an even colder empty apartment. 

you must have a knack for perfect timing, because just as vi’s about to start spiralling, the front door swings open and it’s you — cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, holding a brown paper bag with one arm while your other hand grasps the key. fangs rushes through the door, too, tail wagging as she zooms around the apartment, bounces on the furniture and lets out excited little yaps.

“morning, killer.” you smile like you hadn’t been knocking on death’s door since a few nights before. “i would have waited, but you were pretty knocked out and fangs had a ton of energy to burn. clearly she still does,” you chuckle, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through vi’s body. “i got us some food, too, and i’ll contact the landlord to fix our — whoa!”

the bag drops to your feet as vi pounces on you, engulfing your body in her arms and squeezing tightly. your heartbeat is as strong as ever, steadies her own frantic pulse. 

“s-sorry.” she pulls away and takes a step back. “i shouldn’t have —”

you just shake your head and press a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“i’m sorry,” you say. “i shouldn’t have — i shouldn’t have treated you like that; shouldn’t have used who you are as a weapon against you. you saved me, vi.” you take a shuddery breath. you place a gentle hand on her cheek. “thank you.”

it takes vi a minute to process what you’ve said. 

you thanked her for saving you. 

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon. 

what did you mean by that? 

unless —

i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful.

she’s worth it. 

you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. 

“you….knew,” vi realizes, and even as she says it, she can’t quite believe it. “how….how long?”

“from the first time i landed a punch on your handsome face.” smiling softly, you run your thumb over the faded burn on her cheek, the one mirroring her tattoo, the one left by your silver ring. 

“are you serious?”

“well, fine, i didn’t know what you were, not exactly, until later. i just had a pretty good feeling that you weren’t human; you had a pulse, so you couldn’t be a vampire, which meant —” 

“you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you?”

you shrug. “you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you.” while vi continues to stare at you in disbelief, you bend down to pick up the fallen items. vi crouches down with you.

“that’s different,” she reasons, handing you a soft red apple, your cold fingers brushing over her warm skin momentarily. 

“i don’t think so. not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. i saved you from a human that night, remember?” 

“b-but you’re you and i-i’m me.” vi scrambles to find the right words. she’s still shocked at how calm you are. is it really as simple as you make it seem? “you weren’t….scared that i’d hurt you, because that’s who i am?”

you get up and place the bag of groceries in the kitchen, lean against the counter as you stare back at vi. instead of answering, you challenge her once again:

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

“there’s your answer,” you declare, giving her that razor-sharp grin you flash whenever you win a fight.

fangs has calmed down, and she’s asleep on the living room couch, her snores the only sound between you as vi processes everything that’s been said. 

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

it went terribly when she last told someone the truth, at least anyone outside her family, and even they would sometimes walk on eggshells around her, like they were worried she might snap. 

but you….you’ve sparred and you’ve bickered and you never even flinched once. 

you welcomed her into your home, into your life. 

you kissed her. 

this whole time.

“i was scared you wouldn’t love me, if you knew,” vi admits, a whisper so soft that she’s almost sure that you didn’t hear. 

except you falter then, your confident posture melting at her confession. your lips part in a soft exhale. 

“well, it’s like you said; i knew this whole time, and i still….” you swallow the rest of your sentence, but you’re looking at vi with so much adoration that it’s overwhelming. “i still want you.”

her brain short circuits, and all vi can think to do is kiss you.

it starts sweet, your lips rose-petal soft. her lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure. you run your fingers through vi’s hair, swallow her moans. she’s dizzy with anticipation, imagining how you might do the same when she’s between your legs later. you kiss the scar on her upper lip, gently like you’re hoping to heal the permanent wound. then, your tongue laves over the cut on vi’s bottom lip, soothes her, pushes into her mouth again so you’re both tasting copper. 

but then, you bite down, and a desire buried deep within vi is unleashed: the desire to cut herself open for you so you can love each and every part of her. even deeper down, vi hopes that you’d want the same.

vi brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into her mouth even more. she lodges her thigh between your legs and shoves her tongue into your mouth when you gasp. one of your hands slips underneath her shirt to trace the contours of her abdomen, meticulously outlining each one.

“it’s been days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?” you mumble against her lips, pulling away slightly. your brows pinch together in worry, because you already know her body too well, can tell that each muscle is more defined, each edge a bit sharper. “you must be starving, baby. let’s eat something before —”

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

“we can do that after.” she offers you her best puppy dog eyes as she pleads: “i’m hungry for something else now. i want you.”

to prove her point, vi guides your hand to her belt. your fingers dance along the metal and she eagerly awaits your response.

“fine,” you decide. “but whoever has the most orgasms makes dinner.” 

“you’re on, angel.”

her breath hitches when your hand moves down the waistband of her pants; you play with her tangle of curls, tease the tip of your fingers into her wetness. she purrs against you. 

“wait —” you pause your actions. vi whimpers when you remove your glistening fingers; you take off the silver ring on your pointer finger, grinning guiltily as you toss it on the counter behind you. “that would have been bad,” is all you say before inserting two fingers into her already slick pussy.

“ugh, ah — fuck, just like that, angel,” she moans, twitching as you ram your fingers into her. 

you hum, stuff another finger into her heat, stretching her so deliciously that her legs start to tremble. 

“such a good girl for me. aren’t you, violet?” you coo and start sucking the skin behind her ear. “you gonna make a mess, right here in our kitchen?” 

and that does it — vi’s walls tighten around you, her wetness soaks through her clothes; she’s almost sure that it drips down onto the floor. vi whines as you remove your fingers, feeling empty. you shove your syrupy fingers into her mouth instead, her tongue greedily lapping up her own cum. a string of spit follows as you rip away your fingers and press your mouth against vi’s kiss-swollen, cum-covered lips. you feel something smouldering in the pit of your stomach at her whimpers; you’re nowhere near satisfied, but her eyes, all wide and dark and desperate, are pleading at you to let her indulge in her hunger, as well.  

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

“i want to fuck you,” she declares, and you nod eagerly, your body bursting into flames. 

she gestures at you to wrap your legs around her hips, and she carries you to the bed as you kiss more fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues fighting to explore every crevice of her mouth. you tear each other’s clothes off; but the cold air doesn’t faze you in the slightess, because you have vi, hot and passionate, above you, keeping you going.

your teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as vi messily thrusts against you, your cunts sliding against each other; sticky, languid bliss. 

vi takes her time. she wants to savor every part of this, of you — the sting of your nails scratching down her tattooed back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet roses, combined with the thick musk of your desire, dripping against hers so deliciously; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging her to go faster, harder. 

she nudges her nose against the crook of your neck, salivates at how your vein pulses for her like a tantalizing butterfly. her teeth graze your pulsepoint, but she’s trembling with the amount of self control it takes not to add any more pressure.

“v-vi,” you breathe her name like a prayer. “baby.”

a guttural moan bubbles from the back of her throat in response.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, coax her to look you in the eye, the gesture a sharp contrast to the harsh squelching of your cunts against each other, melding together with each determined thrust. 

“you – ah,” you gasp as vi rolls her hips into yours with even more vigor. “you can bite me, if you want.” 

vi licks her lips, swallows the hunger burning in her throat because you must be too fucked out if you’re willing to let vi fully indulge in this craving. 

“but then you would —”

“lycanthropy is only transmitted when you’re in wolf form,” you explain through labored breaths. “so if you bite me now….and gods, i’m begging you to…..nothing’s gonna change.” 

“i have never been more thankful for your slayer training,” she growls. “you really want that, huh? for me to mark you up really good, show everyone that you’re mine?”

“o-only if i can do the same,” you manage a smirk. “or are you all bark and no bite?” you tease, buck your hips upwards. vi is willing to die for your knife-like smile alone, so of course. she’d let you eat her whole, if that’s what you really wanted. 

vi finally sinks her teeth into you, rolling her eyes back at how absolutely luscious you taste. like a good girl — your good girl — she follows your orders and bites. she bites down your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones, relishing in the imprints left in her wake.

vi knows now that she calls you angel for a reason. it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the pillow as your orgasm crashes through you. vi follows a few seconds later until you’re covered in her — she drenched the curls of your bush, her cum dripping down on your own wet pussy as she watches from above. vi can’t help it; she bends down, and you jolt slightly when her cold nipple piercing brushes against your clit. she does it again a few more times just to appreciate how you whine, rut your pussy against her perky breast, begging for more. 

but, vi’s on the hunt for something else — she splits your folds with her sharp tongue, sucks any and all of your shared essence. she lets it slosh around in her mouth before hovering over you once more, silently ordering you to part your wet lips; when you comply, so obedient, vi spits into your wanton mouth, thick and velvety. 

“swallow,” she orders, voice rough with lust. you do so quite eagerly.

and just like that, you’re back to grinding on each other, leaving a delectable mess along the skin of each other’s thighs. the tension in vi’s abdomen snaps when you wrap your lips around her nipple, suckling at your own wetness until drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth. 

after feeling her gush against you, a feral impulse rips through you. you release her nipple with a distinct pop, the cold metal still burning on your tongue as you yank vi’s hair, exposing her tender skin, glittering with sweat in the dark golden light as the sun starts to set. you pull her close, bite around the tattoo on the side of her neck, hard. vi howls in pleasure as you taste salt and iron and her, reaching your peak. 

vi waits patiently as you come down from your high, chest heaving, your neck still engraved with the outline of her teeth while yours are stained red. you crash your lips onto hers, chaotic and insatiable, kissing her like she’s your last meal. in turn, she licks into your mouth, tongue tracing your canines to savor what you’ve consumed of hers. 

“you sure you’re not a vampire? that would be quite the scandal,” vi jokes later when you’re sitting in her lap, taking time to clean each other up. vi’s only wearing a shirt, but you’ve doubled up on clothes, the apartment growing colder as night approaches. 

you already tended to the burns on her wrists (and apologized profusely for causing them; you also scolded her a bit for not tending to herself sooner). now you use disinfectant to wipe down her neck, where you broke skin; you quickly place a bandage that soothes the sting and vi presses a grateful kiss to your sternum.

you hum around the unlit cigarette in your mouth, which you had rolled beforehand with dried rose petals. with your hands unoccupied, you reach for your lighter. vi tilts her chin to gaze up at you; you’re backlit by the evening twilight, a silver halo around you as flowery smoke billows from your mouth.

“i’m sure they won’t be thrilled to know that a slayer’s fallen in love with a werewolf, either,” you muse, beaming at her. 

vi clicks her tongue. “sounds like we’re breaking some bylaws.”

“oh, she’s worth it; i’d do anything for my charming, sexy, handsome werewolf.”

you lean forward and exhale smoke into vi’s parted mouth, lips brushing against each other as you share the same breath. you sit back once your lungs are burning and admire the view. 

vi — normally all rough edges and dark shadows — blushing a delicate pink as you praise her.

“she’s got a killer right hook, too,” you continue. you offer vi the cigarette and she nods; you hold it, place it between her lips as she takes a drag. “a body so hot that it’s honestly unfair. she’s a fighter, which i love, and some people might think she’s just a scary dog, but i think she’s beautiful and brave and a total softie —”

“okay, okay,” vi coughs, the tips of her ears red. she takes the cigarette from you and stubs it out on the makeshift ashtray by the windowsill. vi rolls over so she’s on top of you, cupping your face in her hands. she pecks across your cheeks until you’re giggling; you try to turn the tables, and the two of you just end up wrestling in a tangle of sheets and laughter and tender kisses.

eventually, you both calm down. 

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

vi shakes her head. “we’ll make breakfast together in the morning?” 

“sounds heavenly.”

it’s dark outside, but the stars are out and the waning moon shines bright. vi positions herself behind you, her body curving into yours, chin notched over your shoulder and arm secure on your waist.

fangs must feel left out, because she shuffles under the covers for warmth before immediately falling back asleep, her fur tickling at your feet.

your thumb rubs against the gauze on vi’s wrist. you can’t help but feel regret, heavy like lead in your stomach.

“baby, i’m fine,” vi assures, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“i….i just hate that i did this to you,” you mumble, bringing her wrist up so you can kiss it. 

“you were trying to protect me. it’s what we do, yeah? protect each other?”

when you hum in agreement, vi guides you to turn around so you’re facing each other. on instinct, she parts your legs with her thigh. your sweatshirt has ridden up, so vi starts to rub circles onto your exposed hip bone, her touch soft as velvet.

“next time you go out there, i’m coming with you.”

your breath hitches as you trace the tattoos licking up her arm. “vi….”

“this isn’t up for debate,” vi declares. she reaches her hand up to caress your cheek, thumb delicately rubbing the shadows under your eye. “you almost died. whatever almost killed you is still out there. you’re strong — gods, you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met — but you don’t have to face any of this alone. not anymore.”

you let out a surprised laugh. 

“what?” she murmurs shyly, her eyes the soft, pale blue of moonlight, star-like freckles dazzling her sculpted cheeks. 

“no, it’s just….anyone who’s known that i’m the slayer either calls me delusional, runs scared, or expects me to do it all by myself. hell — that’s how it was written, how it was destined to be."

vi nudges her nose against yours. her breath tickles your lips, heats up your entire being with a warmth so divine, you wonder if you actually have died and gone to heaven. 

you’re both alive, though, a bit bruised and wounded. the world is dark and cold, but here’s this beautiful, strong girl with a beautiful, strong heart who holds you close, parts her full lips — like two rose petals, kiss-bitten and crimson — and vows:

“fuck destiny. it’s you and me now, angel.”

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

it’s a quiet night. you spent most of it lamenting how you got your ass kicked earlier and fantasizing about the woman who did it, when you see a shadow of a person passed out at the corner of the street, and another trying to steal from them. 

someone has to stand against the forces of darkness and evil, and the universe somehow determined that would be you — a fate you’ve had to accept through bruised ribs and broken hearts and bloody prophecies, but one you’ve had to accept nonetheless. 

if that goes beyond vampires and demons, so be it. 

after you’ve managed to send the creep on the run, you recognize the person you saved:

it’s her. 

she looked more intimidating in the pit, honestly — all harsh and dark, furrowed brows and vicious snarls. 

it takes you kneeling in front of her to be able to really see it through the black face paint. you take a little pride in the bruise that blossoms on her cheek and the cut through her eyebrow, thinking that at least you got a few shots in before she took you out with a killer right hook. 

your jaw still aches and you still taste copper thanks to her, but without the roars from the crowd or the pressure of hefty prize money that you need to survive, you can see her more clearly. she’s bleeding through her bandages; she’s shivering because, gods, it’s freezing this time of year and all she’s wearing underneath a flimsy leather jacket is scrap fabric that would not be counted as a shirt; and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days despite reeking of alcohol. 

that’s when you see a burn on her cheekbone, too, just about where your silver ring would have collided with her skin. you hold your breath, lean in closer to her chest and listen closely to check — the thumping of a strong, steady heartbeat; the gentle rush of blood flowing through her veins. 

so, not a vampire. maybe a human with a silver allergy, but what’s more likely is that she’s….something else. 

“hey.” you whisper. when she doesn’t respond, you cup her face in one hand and tap her bruised cheek with your thumb. her skin is warm; if she were a human, you’d think she had a fever. “wake up.”

you resist the urge to jerk away when she softly takes your hand in hers, the gesture a sharp contrast to her knuckles bloodied from earlier.

“five more minutes, cupcake,” she whines, her voice echoing down the empty alley.

“look, it’s late and freezing. we should really go before —”

“please. just stay with me. i promise i’ll be good.”

your chest aches at her sincere tone. did you sound the same, when you made a similar promise before to the people you’ve loved after they found out who — what — you are? did you also look so broken, so bruised when they left? 

you know the council wouldn’t approve of what you’re about to do. 

but you also know well enough from years of studying and training and fighting as the slayer that their judgement should not be taken as scripture.

in other words: fuck the council. 

(plus — you need a friend, or just….someone. it’s lonely, being the chosen one. and this girl, in front of you — when you fought, her body reacting to yours so fluidly, you had somehow never felt more understood.)

you manage to get her to her feet. 

she mumbles something incomprehensible into your neck, her breath hot against your skin. you let her lean into your body after a weak attempt at holding herself up. it’s not much trouble for you, though. it’s a cold night, anyways; her body, solid and warm, is almost comforting against yours.

you trust your instincts and carry her home. 

[thepromptswhisperer]

Responses to "Careful, or I will fall for you."

“Careful, or I might catch you when you do.”

“I hear the landing is rough.”

“Oh, the horror.”

“Haha. Yeah… That would be bad.”

“Had I known you were this easy, I would have done that long ago.”

“If you haven’t already, I think we’re safe.”

“You’re jesting.” “...Yes.” “Good.”

“You’re just saying things.”

“That would be a long fall, I’m afraid. Not sure your heart could take it.”

“You've been threatening me with that for years now."

“Don’t expect me to do anything nice for you ever again.”

“That’s what gets you going?” “Hey. No judging." 

“We always knew that day would come.”

“Rather sounds like you’d be enamored with what I have to offer, and not with… who I am.”

“With how clumsy you are, I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened.”

“How about you stop flirting with me and pay attention to your surroundings inste—?” “Ouch.”

“Please. You’re already halfway in love with me. Just admit it.”

“...Would that be so awful?”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll buy you some knee pads.” “Knee pads but no helmet?” “If you’re falling for me, you’ve already taken a hit to the head.”

[alpha-canis-major]

James:*accidentally walking into Regulus* Oh hey Reg, how are you?

Regulus:*scowling* watch where you're going Potter

Later

James: I just don't think he likes me Moons, and I don't know what to do with myself because I like him so so so much

Remus: It'll be alright Prongs, and maybe it's better this way so Sirius doesn't kill you

James: Yeah, maybe

Meanwhile

Regulus: I just like him so much

Evan: We know

Regulus: Every single thought I have is about him

Barty: Yes, we know

Regulus: I wish he would just slam me against the wall and have his way with me

Dorcas: Regulus you say this every single day we are aware

Regulus: He's just so ARRRGGGAAARRGGGG and I want to EAT him I need this man biblically he makes me feral

[ericshoney]

Mini Matt ~ Sturniolo Triplets

You and the Sturniolo's had been close even before you were born. Your father was close with Jimmy and when the triplets were born, two years before you, your father and Jimmy still stayed friends, resulting in you having three protective friends who were practically brothers.

As you grew up with the triplets, many people noticed yours and Matt's personalities were very similar, resulting in you gaining the nickname, Mini Matt.

You lived with the triplets in LA, your father letting you move out after you finished school. You had a good following on TikTok as well.

At the moment, you were just chilling on the sofa, scrolling through your phone, waiting on the boys to get ready as you planned a day out. Nick was first to come down, greeting you cheerfully.

"Hey bub!" He exclaimed, joining you on the sofa.

"Hi Nick." You replied casually.

"Anywhere in particular you want to go today?" He asked.

"Not really." You answered.

Nick nodded and soon you were joined by Matt and Chris. The four of you made your way to the car and within the first few minutes of driving, Chris and Nick were arguing about where to go. You looked at Matt, who looked back at you through the mirror, both of you rolling your eyes at the two.

"Will you two shut the fuck up." You said, interrupting them both.

"Yeah it's getting annoying, we've only been in the car for a few minutes." Matt added.

"Alright moody duo." Chris mumbled, as he looked out the window. Nick rolled his eyes as the car fell into a comfortable silence, music playing softly.

After some more quiet driving, you four soon arrived at the mall, finally settling on a destination. When you got out, you walked alongside Matt, both Nick and Chris rushing ahead.

"Let's get food!" Chris exclaimed, as you and Matt reached him and Nick.

"I agree, we missed breakfast." Nick said.

"Ha! You agree with me!" Chris shouted, sticking his tongue out at Nick. Both you and Matt shook your heads.

When you found a place you all wanted to eat, Nick ordered for you all as you found a table to sit at.

"You two aren't very chatty today." Nick mentioned as you all sat to eat.

"Nothing much to say." You said.

"Hard when you two are screaming like fucking monkeys." Matt said.

The two just laughed as you ate. What else made them laugh was the two of you were eating and drinking the exact same thing. Not only was your personality similar to Matt's, so was your eating habits.

"How can you prefer that over Pepsi?" Chris questioned, pointing to your root beer.

"Just do." You answered shortly.

"Alright Mini Matt." He said.

You rolled your eyes but secretly loved the nickname. It made you feel included by the triplets.

"Just cause I prefer root beer over Pepsi and don't say muc-" You began to say but got interrupted by Chris.

"Oh Mini Mattitude!" He shouted, making Nick laugh.

"What?" Matt questioned.

"She has Mini Mattitude!" Chris repeated.

"You have Mattitude and she's a mini version of you." Nick explained, making Matt nod slowly as he looked at you.

"Fucking buffoon." You grumbled, sipping your root beer, making the trio all laugh, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[sweet-evie]

The oldest sibling who could do no wrong: Shoko

The chaotic middle child: Satoru

The precious baby ���: Suguru

It tickles me that Suguru is canonically the baby of the trio. The other two are 1989 and Suguru is 1990. 🥳

[aventurineswife]

Hey! I was wondering if I could request Aventurine, Ratio and maybe Jiaoqiu with an S/O who has a little sister (like, let's say 7 years old) and just them interacting with her and being adorable?

In the Smallest Moments, We Find Our Light

Tags: Aventurine, Ratio, Jiaoqiu, Fluff, Healing, Friendship, Family Bonds, Humor, Lighthearted, Emotional Moments, Healing Journey, Caring, Mentor Figures.

Aventurine had never been particularly good with children. His life had been one of strategy, manipulation, and high-stakes gambles—none of which were qualities a child could appreciate. But when he found himself in the presence of his partner's little sister, a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about the way she looked at him with wide, curious eyes that made him feel both disarmed and strangely protective.

"Can you teach me how to play cards?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve.

Aventurine chuckled, a sound that was both amused and warm. "Cards, huh?" he mused, flicking his earring absentmindedly. "Well, my dear, you're in luck. I am a master of games."

He motioned to a table, where he set up a small deck of cards. As he dealt the cards with an almost theatrical flair, the little girl watched in awe. "Now, here's the first rule," Aventurine began, his tone shifting from lighthearted to serious. "Life is a gamble, and every decision is a risk. But not all risks are worth taking."

The little girl blinked, processing his words with a furrowed brow. "So... you don't always win?"

He gave her a sly smile. "No, not always. But it's how you play the game that counts."

She thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "I think I'll win this time," she declared confidently, her small fingers holding up a card.

Aventurine's smile softened as he glanced at her. There was something about her optimism—her ability to approach the game with such pure determination—that reminded him of a time before he'd learned to guard his heart. He caught himself, quickly masking the thought with another playful comment.

"Careful, young one," he warned, "I'm a formidable opponent."

The game continued, but Aventurine found himself genuinely enjoying it—not because he was winning, but because for the first time in a long while, he wasn't calculating every move. Instead, he was simply… enjoying the moment.

Ratio had always considered himself a man of intellect, a man above the trivialities of childish things. His life was filled with books, studies, and research, and he never entertained the thought of interacting with children. But when his partner's little sister bounced into the room, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes, something strange stirred in him.

"Dr. Ratio!" she called, her small hands tugging at the sleeve of his vest. "Can you tell me a story?"

He looked at her, mildly annoyed by the interruption, yet his tone softened slightly. "A story?" he repeated. "What, precisely, is it that you wish to hear? A tale of wisdom? A recount of one of my brilliant discoveries?"

"Noooo!" she giggled, shaking her head. "I want a funny one!"

Ratio blinked, momentarily thrown off by her sheer innocence. His gaze shifted as he considered her request. "Funny...?" he muttered under his breath. "You wish for me to be 'funny'?"

"Yes! Please!"

For a moment, he stood there, his hands at his sides, pondering. Finally, after a dramatic pause, he sighed, relenting. "Very well. But understand this: humor is a delicate art, and my style may not be to your taste."

He cleared his throat and began, albeit in a scholarly manner, "Once, there was a very wise owl who—"

She interrupted with a delighted giggle. "Owl? Like your shoulders?" she pointed to his shoulder pieces shaped like owls.

Ratio's lips quirked up slightly. "Ah, yes, exactly. This owl was... let’s say, much like myself—blessed with an intellectual superiority far beyond that of any common bird." He paused dramatically. "However, one day, it made the mistake of—"

"Made a mistake?! A smart owl?!" she gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ratio paused, realizing he had lost her attention. But when he looked down at her face, so innocent and full of wonder, he couldn't help but feel a small chuckle escape him.

He continued the story, weaving in absurdities and gentle humor, and as the little girl laughed uncontrollably at the owl's misadventures, Ratio found himself more relaxed than he'd ever been in her presence. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to this whole "funny" thing after all.

Jiaoqiu had always been a figure of quiet strength, an observer in the background, finding solace in the rhythm of his healing work. However, today, he found himself in a moment of unusual vulnerability as his partner's little sister gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice ringing with innocence.

"Jiaoqiu, can you help me?" Her small voice was filled with curiosity.

Jiaoqiu, who was blind, couldn't see her, but he could feel the gentle tug, and he could sense the slight excitement in her voice. He was used to navigating the world without sight, relying instead on sound, touch, and the subtle energies around him.

"Of course, my dear," he said softly, his voice calm and warm, though his thoughts always lingered on the futility of it all—the constant struggle between healing and death. Still, he couldn't turn away from someone in need, especially not a child. "What do you need help with?"

She placed something small and delicate into his hands, and he carefully cradled it. It was a flower, its petals soft and fragile, but its form was still unfamiliar to him without sight. His fingers traced its outline with practiced precision, and he could sense its delicate beauty despite not being able to see it.

"I think it needs medicine so it can be happy again," she said, her tone full of hope and innocence.

Jiaoqiu smiled gently, though the weight of his own internal struggles hung heavy on his heart. He knew all too well the fleeting nature of life. As his fingers moved over the flower, he focused on its pulse, the slight vibrations of energy it gave off. His expertise in alchemy and food-based medicine had honed his ability to sense the health of an object, living or otherwise, through touch.

"Sometimes, little one," he began softly, "healing is not about what we can see. It's about feeling what is needed, understanding what the heart of the matter truly is."

His hands moved to his pouch, where he kept various healing herbs and potions. He could sense the small vials through the slight metallic sounds of their contents shifting within, and he selected the one that he knew would provide the right remedy for the flower.

He poured a few drops of the potion onto the flower, his movements careful and precise. "Like this," he continued, as he gently cradled the flower in his hands, "healing isn't about making everything perfect. It's about giving something the chance to thrive, even if it's just for a while."

He handed the flower back to her, the slight tremor of her small hands against his own providing a sense of reassurance. "There. Now you must be patient. You must nurture it with care, just like you would any living thing."

The little girl hugged the flower close to her chest. "Thank you, Jiaoqiu! You're the best healer!"

Jiaoqiu's heart fluttered with a mix of tenderness and sorrow. In his mind, he knew that the flower, like the many souls he had tended to, might one day fade away. But for now, in this moment, he had done something good. Perhaps that was enough.

He listened to her soft footsteps as she skipped away, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to let go of the burden that always weighed so heavily on his heart. The world might be full of pain, loss, and uncertainty, but moments like this—moments of connection—were what kept him moving forward.

Jiaoqiu smiled softly, feeling the cool breeze on his face and the warmth of the little girl’s gratitude filling the empty space inside of him. Healing, after all, wasn’t just about mending the body—it was about healing the heart, and sometimes, that was enough.

[fandomnerd9602]

"What if...." Toni stark introduced Peter parker to YN and they both bond over being so nerdy (being into starwars,movies,video games,etc)

Tony: Peter, this is Y/N - my son

Peter: dude! Is that a Revenge of the Jedi shirt?!

Y/N: replica of the infamous poster yeah!

Peter: dude! Wait! Is that a thermal coupler?!

Y/N: I was gonna add it to my suit for enhanced power output. Wanna help me?

Peter: yeah! D-did we just become bros?

Y/N: science bros for life!!!

The two run off excitedly…

Tony:

Bruce: I thought we were the Science Bros.

[jalicecookie]

Purple Haired Friend

You're visit the set of Squid Game 2 , to surprise your Father Ha-neul Kang. Unfortunately, you get lost while searching for him and end up near the men's toilets, completely shy and lost of orientation. Luckily for you, an Actor with black and purple hair and a big heart , is your savior. Or in short Words - Seung-hyun helps a Toddler to find her Father on the set of Squid Game 2.

⁓ A little Gift for the very talented @thanosscross. The Way you write Seung Hyun is super inspiring and made me try my very ever first Jump , into writing something, that is about the filming Set of an Series/ the Actor Career Focus Point. I can imagine that T.O.P// Seung Hyun as a very gentle soul , with a good Heart for Kids, so yeah i hope i could surprise you with this small Project <3 ⁓

Check out her Stories and her Works she wrote, it is very good and i enjoy every Post from he that shows up on my Dashboard :-)

TW: None, just a lot of Cuteness and Fluffness (at least i tried to write it so ^^)

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

"….Appa will definitely be happy to see us, it will be a great surprise! Sometimes there are a lot of people on a set, he said, so we have to be good and not cause any trouble, okay? And when we see Appa, we'll shout "surprise" really loudly, okay?" - the words of your big brother Min-Jun come into your field of vision, as does the face of the 9-year-old, while your mother parks the car in the studio's visitor parking lot and puts on the handbrake.

It was a special day and, unlike your older brother, you still can't understand the bigger picture , behind your father - Ha-Neul-Kang's - public life and the man's associated success as an actor in film productions and television series.

For you, since you have better understood the rough structure of the day, it is completely normal that your father comes home earlier or later due to the working day and the overtime during filming.

Sometimes you visit him as a family on the set of different productions and in most cases you hardly notice the hustle and bustle and the crowds of people on the studio premises.

In the past , you usually slept through the whole drama or shyly fled into your mother's arms and avoided all eye contact… it was strange to often see your father under makeup and with a different haircut, it always took a lot of convincing for your father to really convince you that this stranger was not a strange person but still your Appa.

You were always more of a shy, timid toddler and your third birthday, which you celebrated together with the family a few days ago (Ha-Neul specially blew up the balloons on the decorated dining room table himself and hoped that they would blow out the candles on the chocolate cake for you!) didn't really change much… well… apart from the fact that your big brother seemed to somehow lure you out of your shell with his euphoria about the surprise visit.

"Surprise!" you say, giggling and clapping your hands once.

"Not until we see Appa and are allowed to go to him, Silly," your big brother replied and helped you to unbuckle the seat belt of the child seat before your mother picked you up and took Min-Jun's hand to go through security together and then let one of the nice crew members lead you through the long corridors and hallways of the set.

"Mommy? Down? wanna walk like Min-Ju" - you say as you make a short stop and are near the cafeteria, where your mother and brother meet a family friend (mother and daughter) whose father also stars in the Netflix series Squid Game and they start talking.

"You stay with Mommy and Min-Ju, okay? Don't run away or walk off okay", - your mother said to you as she slowly put you on the floor. You obey…for a period of 2 minutes…the adult women talk, your big brother and the big girl talk too and…oh does that one adult look like your dad? In the suit…sometimes your dad wears a similar suit.

You tug on your mommy's sleeve once but she is so engrossed in the conversation with the other adult, that she didn't notice for the moment…and your big brother started playing rock paper scissors with the other girl and then a mini version of tag…what if the man in the suit was Appa and wouldn't hear if they all shouted surprise?

You look away from your mother and big brother, the man in the suit is talking to another adult and then walks away from the hallway…you can still hear the parting words of the suit wearer's conversation partner echoing over to you.

"…..you should go to the mask trailer - Gong-Yoo"

Gong-Yoo….wasn't that the last name that Mommy and Appa sometimes use to answer a phone call - Kang….Gong-Yoo…..that sounded kind of the same and since you couldn't see the man's face for the moment, you decided to do the most sensible thing your little 3-year-old brain was capable of - follow the suit man who could possibly be your father. Great idea right?

Maybe it was because the set of a series production was so crowded that several people were bustling around the aisles and a school class was visiting that no one noticed how clumsily and shyly you were simply following the man in the suit, like a little duckling blindly following its mother duck… until you lost your bearings because the man whose name sounded so similar to the name your parents always use to answer boring adult calls, of course didn't know or notice that someone was following him.

(How were you supposed to know that the actor playing the salesman/recruiter would just take a quick bathroom break before going to the make-up room and that he just happened to wear a similar suit to your father at premieres and press conferences/interviews was really mean of fate, wasn't it?)

In any case, you lose sight of the man because you quickly lose sight of your father and find yourself completely clueless and shy in front of the men's toilets in the studio. You look around uncertainly, but there is no sign of the suit wearer or your father anywhere…where were Mommy and Min-Ju again?

You stumble somewhat aimlessly into the area of ​​the sinks in the men's restroom in the hope of spotting the suit there, but here too there was a gaping emptiness…you became afraid and were about to cry quietly when the footsteps approached and suddenly stopped.

"Hello - are you lost, young lady?"

You flinch and look up for a moment…not far from the sinks stood an adult in a green suit and purple-black hair. His look seemed to be confused and surprised at the same time to find a young child completely alone in the bathrooms…but your overwhelm and fear made this question and the appearance of the strange man, even more threatening for you…where was your family?

You shake your head, sniff fearfully and shyly take a few steps back towards the toilet cabines.

Now the first tears are running down your cheeks and a quiet whimper escapes you.

"Mommy! Appa! Min-Ju!" - you cry quietly and of course you don't trust the strange adult one bit.

You have always been shy around strangers and just wanted the safety of your family around you.

"Did you got lost? Were is your Family? Oh no, we can look for them together?" - the voice of the man with the purple hair took on a very cautious and calming tone as you keep backing away and land backwards on your bottom in your fear of this overwhelming situation.

"You don't need to be afraid…actually…I think I'll just sit down for a litle while as, oay?" - the tone was still calming and you still watched with fear and uncertainty as the purple adult man simply sat down cross-legged on the floor a few steps away from you and gave you space…he didn't go any further towards you and with this gesture he put himself at eye level with you…which in this case was not only very sensitive, but also the right decision for your shy nature.

There was silence for a moment and your quiet crying echoed off the high ceilings of the bathroom.

"Is orange your favorite color? Look, two of my fingernails are orange too," said the man in a now shy tone…just like you feel, shy and unsure.

You briefly look down at the color of the orange jacket you are wearing.

It is your favorite jacket…and one of your favorite colors. At home you have orange rubber boots with little ducks on them.

Mommy said you can't wear those rubber boots today, because it hasn't rained.

"Orange?" - you say carefully and tap your T-shirt once and then you cast a very cautious glance at the purple adult , who is still sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding out his hand to you so that you can see that one of his fingernails is also orange.

Then the stranger held out his other hand to you, one of the fingernails was also painted orange.

"One…two…two orange" - you say, looking from the stranger's hands back to your T-shirt and lowering your gaze again.

"Do you know the other colors to? My Fingernails very colorful today aren´t they?" - the adult said kindly, somewhat in his shy tone, and the fact that he stayed where he was and made no attempt to simply pick you up or even grab your hand or otherwise pressure you, made you look up in dismay… and crawl very carefully closer to the man, at arm's length of course - to look at the other colors on his fingernails.

He was right… there were other colors besides orange. What colorful fingernails.

"That's right, it really does look like a rainbow, hm? May I ask what your name is, young lady? My name is Seung-Hyun," - the adult replied with a quiet laugh at the rainbow comparison.

It took a moment, until you could come out of your shell a little further and shyly answer the question…but the interest in the dark colors on the back of Seung-hyun's hand captured your interest.

"Me - Nali.....Ouchie on Seung hand?", was your reply.

A gentle smile creeps onto the adult's face as he answers your question.

"This one? Oh no, it's a tattoo… well, not a real one, it's just color, but shhh, don't tell, okay Nali?", he said playfully and a few moments later he makes a shhh gesture by holding a finger in front of his mouth.

You imitate him and carefully do the same.

Then your gaze slides back to the adult's hair and you tilt your head for a moment.

"Hair too, shhh - secret?" - you ask, pointing to the man's purple-black hair.

"Not really, but I know a magic trick - what do you have behind your right ear, Nali?", said Seung in surprise and his right hand went once in the direction of your left ear before you heard something jingling and looked surprised into Seung's still closed hand.

"What's behind Nali's ear? Magic trick?", you said now, a little curious.

"Hm… it sounds like… you can't find a coin? But… oh, I can't open my hand, the magic trick was probably too difficult for me… can you maybe help me?", said Seung to you in surprise and when he tried to open his fist, he couldn't do it even with all his effort… that must have been a pretty difficult magic trick!

You nod, thawing out a little more with every passing minute and Seung's calm, level-headed and slightly shy manner suits your own insecure character, he is just right when dealing with you and the fact that he can do magic is a great bonus.

"Nali help Seung… but how?" you ask and nod once.

"Okay Nali… we'll both say the magic spell now - and then you have to tap my fist once, OK?"

You nod again and after your new friend whispers the magic spell to you very quietly, you do exactly what he told you and oooooh it worked! After you carefully tapped Seung's closed fist, the adult was able to open it very slowly and one of the rings appeared (which he had previously taken off without you noticing)

"Magic! Ring! Nali helped!" - you say in surprise and clap your hands once.

"Well done Nali… would you like to hold the ring for me for a moment? I don't want to lose it… if you want to hold my hand, we could see if we can find your family?" - Seugn suggested and you very slowly and carefully take the ring and nod slowly.

Your haired purple friend was nice to you and you slowly stand up, bridge the last few steps and very carefully reach for the hand - or rather the little and ring finger of Seugn's right hand, while your free hand holds the ring proudly and importantly.

Seugn slowly stands up too and nods at you in praise before you leave the sanitary facilities of the men's toilet together.

In the hallway, Seugn makes sure that you don't get lost, but you continue to hold onto his little finger and ring finger, as you walk on the adult's right side and repeatedly make cautious eye contact with him.

He asks you, among other things, if you know where you last saw your family, if you know the names of your mommy and your appa and how old you are.

You know the answer to some of the questions, but you just shake your head to the others and when a group of crew members pass you, you press yourself closer to the man's leg for protection.

"Oh, thank God! Nali!" - your father's voice echoes across the hallway and both Seugn and your steps stop - you don't let go of your new purple-haired friend and look in the direction from which your father's voice echoes to you.

A short exchange of words followed between Seugn and Ha-Neul before your mother and big brother joined the group and expressed their relief at finding you.

You, still holding Seugn's hand, cast a long, critical look at your Appa… before you burst into a childish giggle and utter the following unfiltered words.

"Appa long hair! No purple ! Appa look funny!"

Your parents told you again , that it wasn't okay to just run away like that (they worried a lot) and that they were very grateful to , Seugn for finding you and bringing you back.

And yet you were a little sad, when you had to say goodbye to your new purple-haired friend - because he had to shoot a new scene with the other actors very soon.

Seugn forgot to take the ring back, though.

By pure Coincidence.

Of course.

THE END

[impulsivebrainrot]

💀‼️DO NOT REPOST ‼️⭐

Cover art close-ups for Forbidden Friendship! :3

(by yours truly .w.)

If you wish to know who's who among the Archivists, chapters like Chapters 9, 11, and 17 may give hints .w.

For those new to the fic, I won't reveal the role of the Titan in the background or his name. Read and see for yourselves! :3

I put so many secrets in this cover art mwehehehe >:3 Down to the symbolism, references, and even foreshadowing >:3

Reference for my Archivists' faces (or at least 3/4 of them 👀):

✨See chapter list here! :3✨

[mellosdrawings]

Hii!! So sorry for going on an absolute spree liking all of your posts ;; your art style is super expressive & I love the way you use crosshatching! As well as all your headcanons (you are so real abt cane user azul, i didnt realize how many cards he's sitting in!!)

I was curious, do you have any headcanons with Ruggie & Jamil? Especially with your N2 squad theories and their canon interactions durin GloMas, I'd love to see what you think of them~

First, never apologize for any liking/reblog/other spree, you have no idea how happy it makes me to have someone like what I do so much that they dig into my previous stuff!

And thank you so much for the compliments I'm ansbsjsbsjsn about them 💕

For Ruggie and Jamil, I have a whole bunch of different headcanons depending on the situations.

First their GloMas interaction gave me life. I found it so perfect, just the two of them finally letting their inner gremlins take over without worrying about their image. It was PERFECT !

I also love that their Signature Spells have the same "manipulation" base, but Ruggie is about the body while Jamil is about the mind. (I usually love adding Jade to the mix with his ability to force the truth out of others. I call the three of them the "Manipulation Gang". I'd love to see the three of them actually gang up some day.)

Jamil and Ruggie also have the same servants-to-spoiled-rich-kids background. I feel like they'd have the most terrible gossip while washing clothes or something. I just can't really imagine them not be friends of sorts. Just pestering about the latest wild nonsense their master has been up to, wondering if they should exchange their burdens (pre chap 6, Jamil would never agree after that) and just generally let the worst of them show to the other coz they don't mind.

In the context of the N2 Squad, Ruggie would definitely be a needed push for Jamil. The kind of "Please just date him, Leona’s mood is only getting worse and I'm tired and if I hear 'im moan about you once more I'm gonna murder you both" or something like that. Ruggie knows the inner workings of Leona, knows the inner workings of Jamil too from their laundry-gossip, and while I can imagine him strive in chaos he would immediately go complain to either Leona or Jamil if their turning around each other made his job harder. After the N2 Squad starts dating though, I can def imagine Ruggie try to profit off being friends with Jamil to get favors from Leona (and maybe Vil too coz why not?)

(Also Ruggie is def Jamil's first fan when it comes to cooking and always tries to have him give him spares from a previous party or whatever.)