#he eats lint roller paper

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i need to start an unbreakable bond quote book except it’s just things i say to one of my cats in particular

[synonymroll648]

WHERES MY BOY DRAWINGS AND BUTLER HEADCANONS *holds you at butler point* /j /not forcing /this this supposed to be silly /im not forcing you /im not an assholeplease

thanks for clarifying the tone on this one, because otherwise i wouldn’t have read this right. took my time cooking these up because i care about The Boy (for those who don’t know: an oc this person made that’s a stray cat fitz adopted). closeups (all right side up) and headcanons under the cut :)

headcanons that are indeed related to the drawings here, and then some! (disclaimer that i’ve never had a service cat before, but i have had a service dog, so there may be some major inaccuracies here, in which case please correct me for future reference)

butler may have been a scrawny stray when fitz first got him, but since he only eats things fitz bakes and fitz bakes all the time from stress, he’s a bit of a Thick Boy. and we love him for that

fitz learned how to bake cat treats through definitely legal searches for cat treat recipes, and help from the gnomes and sophie (she’s the only one that knows which gnomish veggies taste like what meats) substitutes for fish and stuff

they’re human/elvin grade treats ofc

butler is a pretty good name for not only his appearance but also his personality most of the time! butler loves fetching things for people, especially fitz. usually he gives people either things he loves or things he notices them pick up frequently

this includes fitz’s imparter (which now has bite marks around the corners), biana’s hairbrush, alden’s scrolls on occasion (fitz apologized profusely the first time it happened, alden just laughed it off. he now calls butler’s bite marks in his doomed papers “autographs”), and della’s jewelry (there was one time he accidentally got her earrings stuck to the magnets in his service vest - we’ll get back to that later - and kinda just jingled around everglen trying to find her. the gnomes found him first and couldn’t stop laughing. the rest is history)

butler is also known to sleep on any and all clothes fitz leaves folded out, and also try to drag said folded clothes to fitz on school mornings in an attempt to help out. it is not very successful. fitz has three lint rollers in his foxfire satchel, and two in whatever everyday cape he’s wearing. he’s recently started having the gnomes teach him how to mend the accidental tears butler’s attempts to be helpful leave

one time butler almost broke a bottle of raven lovelylocks by trying to jump down from fitz’s bathroom counter with the bottle in his jaws. fitz opened the door to see him about to jump and frantically made his way over to butler so butler wouldn’t grip it tighter and break the glass. first line of action afterward was to hail dex and check if lovelylocks as a brand used chemicals harmful to cats. he now leaves all products in his (closed) bathroom cabinets

the first time butler tried to bring mr. snuggles to fitz, fitz almost had a breakdown, because it looked like his new cat was trying to rip apart his emotional support stuffed animal. in reality our little man only had his claws out because he was trying to pull the covers mr. snuggles was tucked under, and his teeth were at snuggles’ throat because that was the narrowest point of contact butler was could find. in the moment fitz panicked super hard, and didn’t let him anywhere near mr. snuggles for days. he figured out what was really going on when he saw butler drag biana’s stuffed yeti lady sassyfur to the door by the arm later that week and drop it at her feet

now that fitz knows what butler’s deal is, he’s allowed near mr. snuggles, and is often seen curled around the stuffed dragon. especially when fitz isn’t home and butler doesn’t get to go with him

butler is surprisingly trainable! he’s incredibly food motivated, but also can be trained on affection alone. he’s all good as long as he gets to be clingy. fitz pretends to grumble about the constant attention all the time, but not so secretly loves having an excuse to smother someone in physical affection. even if that someone is a cat. butler is refreshingly less complicated than his friends and family

butler knows soooooo many tricks. bro can roll over and sit and lay and fetch and “butler, cmon, drop it” and spin and go for walks and shoulder rides on command. he can stand on his back legs too. he’s not quite athletic enough for backflips, though. fitz is planning on getting him on a training regimen working toward that soon

butler is super duper talkative. will shush on command most of the time, but he has his rebellious moments. mostly when fitz goes in the kitchen or when he’s by the door. will yowl for treats or a walk without hesitation. polite yowls though. meows increasingly loudly when he can’t get into something and wants someone to open it for him. mostly doors. everyone knows to just pick him up and move him somewhere else if he wants help in the kitchen though. no unearned treats for you, sir!

butler has an absurd amount of collars and leashes and toys because fitz is so the kind of guy to get gifts for his cat all the time. all his collars and leashes match - the one he’s wearing in the sketches is his plainest one, and also his first one. his name’s usually engraved on a heart but sometimes a star or paw. butler’s favorite toys are the feathers on strings that you tug around with a stick. he will get that thing if it fucking kills him or someone else. it’s fetch for diehards and goddamnit he will win (he’s just like fitz fr fr)

butler loves walks but doesn’t know his limits. one second he’ll be prancing along and the next he’s flopped out in the grass somewhere on everglen’s property giving a very sad, tired meow. that is when fitz picks him up, puts him over his shoulder, and goes back inside

butler gets on fitz’s shoulders at nearly every opportunity. this unfortunately has ruined a decent amount of capes, and left a lot of scratch marks along fitz’s back and right leg (there was one time butler used fitz’s bad leg and fitz nearly collapsed, and butler has since been trained to not touch fitz’s left knee). fitz loves the feeling of having a purring scarf that gives his cheek kisses too much to mind

speaking of purring! bro purrs so loud you can hear him across the room. that shit rumbles through your whole body. his favorite spot is fitz’s chest. sometimes he’ll need fitz’s chest before settling down, to which fitz calls him his little baker butler baking biscuits. most commonly occurs when fitz is stress-baking in the middle of the night, though that happens less with butler around

during a check-in with elwin, elwin noticed that fitz’s echoes (especially in his chest) seemed to be doing a lot better since he and butler had gotten into their little rhythm of things. he decided to have a check in at everglen next time so he could look at how fitz’s body reacted to butler purring on his chest and such in the face of his echoes acting up slightly, and found that his echoes’ effects were tamped down compared to usual

elwin was immediately like hey dude considering how easy this cat is to train, and how it’s helping you with your disabilities that you are not ready to call disabilities echoes, you should put him through service cat training. i know a guy. and so they did that

butler is quite serious when he’s got his vest on. goes from wandering goofy goober to steadfastly walking next to fitz, or politely meowing to get on fitz’s shoulders when it’s crowded or to get fitz’s attention when fitz is stressed out. he has a different number of polite meows for different requests. the last request is less of a request and more of a demand, though, since his job is to get fitz to relax. doesn’t meow otherwise

the moment the vest’s off he’s back to being super silly though. all the urges he was holding back to fetch things or beg for treats are let loose. behold, cat zoomie hell. unless fitz is just taking his vest off so butler is comfy falling asleep for the night, in which case butler is a nice quiet cuddle buddy

everyone loves butler but man does sophie love him possibly as much as fitz. part of it’s her being someone with major echoes, part of it’s her being his cognate, but the biggest part of it is that she misses marty ._.

oh yeah the magnets i mentioned earlier in his vest! that’s because i was too lazy to draw buckles i thought it’d be interesting for elvin service animal vests to use small magnets instead of buckles, considering how elves like to use magnets when it’s more convenient. specifically referring to the deleted scene where fitz explained how elvin rings are magnetic and no one gets piercings

[sneezyminniejo]

Can I request anything for Hemdery being allergic to cats, forgetting his medicines maybe? Love you <33

Here it is. Hope you enjoy

Convention Cat-Astrophe

Hendery groaned as he woke up and realized he had a stuffy nose, again. It was the third day in a row that he’d woken up stuffy and today he had a little bit of a sore throat. He sighed as he realized that he must’ve caught a Summer cold. He went through his morning routine and found himself blowing his nose multiple times in the process. Whether it was from his nose running, itching, or because he just sneezed, it doesn’t really matter. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, his nose was tinged pink.

Hendery went back to his room to get dressed for the day and found both Louis and Leon lounging on his bed. Specifically on the clothes he had laid out for himself. He sighed as he got dressed before grabbing the lint roller he keeps on his nightstand and did his best to remove the cat hair from his clothes. Thankfully, his allergy medication is pretty strong, so he should only have to worry about his cold symptoms as opposed to both cold and allergy symptoms.

As Hendery walked to the kitchen for breakfast, he found his nose beginning to itch, again. He tried to rub the itch away, but found himself unsuccessful. “HEH-STIEGHH, HIH-STIESHHH!” He sniffled as he wiped his nose with his hand. Of course, with how loud his sneezes are, the others, who were also all awake, heard him.

“Gesundheit.” Yangyang said to Hendery as he fully walked into the kitchen. Ten handed Hendery a paper towel to blow his nose with, and the younger happily accepted. “Are you doing all right Hendery? You were snoring last night.” Ten said. Hendery shook his head. “I think I caught a cold.” He abruptly sneezed again into the already soiled paper towel and blew his nose again.

When Hendery said he thought he caught a cold, Kun responded by going to the bathroom and grabbing the thermometer. He scanned the younger’s forehead and looked at the reading. “Not even the slightest hint of a fever. In fact, you’re a little but under the average temp reading. Would you like some cold medicine?” Hendery nodded and Kun went to grab the dayquil.

When Kun returned he began talking to the group. “So, I got more info on our next schedule. We’re filming a sleepover type show. So we’re going to all be in pajamas and doing sleepover stuff. This filming is also going to be overnight, so we’re probably looking at staying up for most if not all night.” The leader then looked at Hendery. “If you’re not feeling well enough to do this schedule let me know and I’ll text our manager.” Hendery could feel the eyes of the six other members on him after Kun said this. “I feel mostly fine, ge. It’s j-ust that my n-nose, HIH-STIESHHH, HIH-STIESSH, HEH-STNGTIEWW! Sorry. It’s just that my nose is a bit stuffy.” Hendery sniffled and blew his nose again. Kun gave Hendery a look, but ultimately didn’t press the topic.

As the seven WayV members ate their food, Kun got another text from their manager. “It looks like it’s going to be a couple of hours before the location we’re filming at is fully set up. We leave in two hours. And then the drive will be around an hour." Once Kun finished speaking, the group continued eating breakfast before properly getting ready for their schedule.

Hendery continued to sneeze periodically over the course of the next two hours. When it was time to leave, Kun double checked with him that he was okay to work. "I'm feeling better. I promise. I'm less congested than I was earlier." Hendery said. In all honesty, he's only about sixty percent sure the medicine is even doing anything. As he turned to grab his bag, Hendery wound up coughing into his fist. Out of courtesy for his other members, Hendery grabbed a mask and put it on to limit potential contagion while in the car. Although, since they all live together, it might be a moot point. 

An hour later, the seven WayV members were parked outside of the venue they’d be filming their next content in. Hendery actually seemed to be doing a little better. The amount of sneezing decreased, and his sniffling also went down a little. Hendery blew his nose into some tissues he had before grabbing his bag and following the others out of the car. The Seven men hopped out of the van and all looked a little confused as they stood in front of a convention center. “Kun-ge, do you know why we’re filming at a convention center?” Lucas asked. Kun shook his head.

The group entered the convention center and we're ushered towards one of the closest rooms to get their hair, makeup, and wardrobe dealt with. There were only three stylists total. One for hair, one for makeup, and one for wardrobe. Obviously this meant that they'd be taking turns getting everything done. However, the wardrobe was super simple. They were each given a onesie for their emojis. Kun had a bear onesie, Ten got a cat, Winwin got an eagle, Lucas got a dog, Xiaojun got a dinosaur, Hendery got a unicorn, and Yang yang got a sheep.

After they all got dressed into their onesies and got fitted for their mics, the members went one by one to get their hair and makeup done. Hendery asked if he could get his hair and makeup done first, mainly because he didn’t really want to sit in the small-ish room waiting. The stylists were fine with Hendery going first. Hendery quickly blew his nose one more time before sitting in the chair.

Once Hendery was sat in the chair, it didn’t take long before his nose became itchy again. The makeup brush flitting around his nose wasn’t helping things either. He found himself unintentionally shoving the makeup stylist’s hand away from his face a little bit harshly as he leaned to the side and sneezed three times. “Sorry.” He said as he sniffled. The stylist was understanding and offered him a tissue before continuing with the makeup. Hendery managed to get through the rest of hair and makeup without sneezing, but his nose had become incredibly itchy. Once he was done with getting his makeup done, the ailing WayV member decided to put his mask back on. Even though it might ruin his makeup a little, he’d like to try to keep his germs to himself for as long as possible.

With his mask over his face, Hendery stepped into the hall to wait for the others to get their hair and makeup done. Yangyang came out first, followed by Kun, then Lucas, Winwin, Ten, and finally Xiaojun. In total it had taken another two-ish hours for everyone’s makeup to get done. In that time, Hendery had sneezed another thirteen times spread out over four decently audible mini fits. When Winwin had come out of the room, he was carrying a box of tissues and unceremoniously dropped it in the younger’s lap.

Hendery stood up and took the tissues around the corner to blow his nose while having some semblance of privacy. When he returned, he saw their manager speaking with the others.

"The various rooms of the condition center have different challenges that you'll all need to complete. Some of them are timed, others aren't. You will also be split into two groups of two and a group of three. We're going to start fi-" 

"HEH-STIEGHH, HIH-STIESHHH, HEH-STSCHHH. Sorry." Hendery apologized as he grabbed another tissue and dabbed his nose 

"We're going to start filming with you guys essentially drawing straws to form the groups. Let's go." The manager led the group to a room that was set up to look like a living room with seven sleeping bags. Kun quickly pulled Hendery aside so that the younger could take another dose of cold medicine.

The groups wound up as Ten and Winwin, Kun and Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, and Yang yang in the third group.

The afternoon had gone relatively well. It was very apparent that Hendery was suffering from a cold, so he didn’t really try to hide it. He was sniffling every few minutes, occasionally sneezing, and even more occasionally coughing. It also wouldn't be surprising if his tissue and some of his nose blows made it into the final cut of the episodes. He’s honestly just glad that the medicine seemed to be working at least a little bit, because he wasn’t as bad as he was that morning.

The various challenges went well. The timed challenges were mostly minute to win it type challenges. Hendery struggled a little with those when he felt a sneeze coming. The non timed challenges went well as well and the group had won plenty of food for their dinner.

By the time everything had wound down. Hendery was definitely feeling it. He was exhausted from all the sneezing, coughing, and not being able to properly breathe through his nose. Xiaojun made sure that he took another dose of cold medicine before the lights were turned off for the night in the room they were in.

Unfortunately, Hendery was having trouble falling asleep. He's already blown his nose three separate times, but it wasn't much help. His suddenly got itchy and he couldn't get the sensation to go away. Worse yet, it hadn't been bad enough to cause any sneezing, but it was uncomfortable enough to keep him from sleeping. He's also fairly certain everyone else is already asleep.

Eventually, he decides to look at his phone to check the time. The room was rather dark when Hendery turned his phone on to check the time, thus flooding his eyes with light. This caused a chain reaction that put his nose over the edge. He pinched his fingers over his nose and waited.

“HEH-snGXT” Hendery sneezed once, not entirely sure how loud the sneeze was

“HEH-snGXTSH” He sneezed a second time, still hoping he wasn’t too loud.

“HEH-SNXGTSHH” On the third sneeze, Winwin, who was laying next to him stirred awake.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” He sleepily mumbled. Winwin muttered something else, but Hendery couldn’t quite make it out. In part because his nose was still incredibly itchy, and in part because Winwin was very much still mostly asleep.

“Everything’s f-fine ge. Go ba-ack to sleep.” Winwin mumbled something as he turned over and went back to sleep. However, Hendery’s nose was very much still itchy and he was worried about waking the others with his sneezing. Hendery was doing his best to hold back his sneezes, but he knew that likely wasn’t going to last for long. He was casually looking around the mostly dark room as he aggressively rubbed at his itchy nose. In one of the corners, he spotted what looked like a pile of blankets or pillows. Hendery hadn’t really looked around the room earlier when the lights were on, so he hadn’t noticed the pile earlier. He ultimately decided to see what was in the corner of the room.

Through increasingly hitching breaths, Hendery found that the corner did indeed house a pile of blankets. He quickly grabbed one and rolled it up before shoving it against his face.

“HEHmfphhh, HEH-HEH-hhmpfff-MPFFF.” Hendery sniffled and rubbed at his nose again. For a second he thought he was done. Unfortunately the relief only lasted a second. Hendery found himself rapidly shoving his face back into the blanket and had an impressive fit of ten sneezes. Hendery got up and left the room in search of the bathroom. He desperately needed to blow his nose and maybe just get his sneezes out completely unrestrained.

Hendery only made it past the door, when his breath began hitching again. He wound up pausing where he was standing and pitched forward.

“HEH-STIEGHHH, HEH-STIESHHHIEW, HIH-STIESHHH-STIESSIGHHH, HEH-STIESHH!!”

Hendery managed to stop sneezing long enough to go to the bathroom and blow his nose. However, his nose still wasn’t satisfied and he wound up sneezing several more times while in the bathroom. Hendery blows his nose several times before heading back to the room where he and the others were sleeping. When he returned, he found the lights to the room on and the other six members awake to varying degrees.

“Hendery, are you okay?” Kun asked. Hendery nodded, only to sneeze twice more. He then shook his head. “My nose has kept me up all night. I tried to keep it under control, but I clearly didn’t succeed. Sorry for waking you all.” Hendery walked back over to the pile of blankets he had been in previously. He once again used one of the blankets to muffle a couple of sneezes, only to wind up having another fairly big sneezing fit.

“Ugh. I don’t get it. I’ve been taking cold medicine, but I don’t think it’s helping.”  Hendery sneezed again before letting out a frustrated sigh.

Lucas sat down next to the younger. “Do you want to stay and finish filming, or do you want Kun ge to get you a ride back to the dorm?” He asked as he fiddled with one of the blankets.

“I’m gonna stick it out for the filming. It’ll be weird for me to be present for the fi-irst half and not the seh-cond. HEH-STMPFFF, HIH-STIE-” Lucas abruptly tears the blanket away from Hendery, causing the younger to sneeze mostly uncovered.

“You need to stop using these blankets. They’re covered in cat hair.” Lucas says as he shows Hendery and the others the blankets.

“That shouldn’t mean anything though. My allergy meds are pretty strong. It’s why I have no problem living with Louis and Leon.

“Um” Ten interrupts. “You know how we all have those weekly pill containers to keep all of our vitamins and what not straight? It doesn’t look like you’ve touched yours for three days.” He said while holding Hendery’s in the air. Hendery was quick to take the container and take one dose of allergy meds, along with the vitamins that were in the container with it.

“Well that explains why the cold medicine hasn’t been doing anything. My allergies have been acting up. One question though. Why are the blankets covered in cat hair?”

“I’m looking up the schedule of the convention center.” Winwin says. “Apparently there was a Cat show being held here just two days ago. That means the entire building is probably still rife with fur and dander.” Upon hearing that, Kun immediately called their manager for scheduling something that directly interferes with the health of one of the artists. Hendery talks the group into letting him finish the filming, even though he doesn’t feel great. As soon as they finished filming, Hendery was brought home for some much needed rest.

It had been fairly difficult to edit out all instances of Hendery clearly being unwell. As such, when the episode released, the comment section was flooded with comments wishing Hendery good health but also criticizing the company for making someone who’s clearly sick work.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑆𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 (𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣)× 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟹𝙺

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎..... 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙾𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛.

Tags: @galaxteez @park-chalymars @queenofgames

*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*.¸¸.*♡*

Adjusting the glasses that framed his face, the dirty blonde male carefully wiped the kitchen counter, making sure it was perfectly sanitized and free from any form of dust. Not forgetting to swipe the lint roller across the surface, he was so focused on his task that he slightly jumped when he heard the door open, then realized it was just his significant other coming back from her shift. Glancing over at the clock, he found it unusual for her to be coming back at this hour as it was rather late and her shift should have ended hours ago.

Grabbing the Lysol can, he went over to the front door where she was in the process of taking off her shoes and coat, dropping them onto the floor which particularly annoyed him. Standing next to her, he began to pick up her things and place them either on the rack specifically for their shoes or hanging them inside the closet.

"Seonghwa! What the fuck!?" His lover protested and swatted her hands at him when he proceeds to spray her with his aerosal disinfectant.

"We're still in the middle of a pandemic Y/N and I'm not taking chances." He justified himself.

Furiously ripping the mask off her face, she yanked the can off his fingers and threw it on the floor.

"Look! Just this once can you not pester me with your OCD habits?! I'm not in a good mood and I just want to be left alone!"

He stepped aside when she pushed past him and headed straight into her room, shutting the door rather harshly. He didn't budge an eye at her behaviour, he knew how stressing her job was, especially with a boss like hers. Sighing softly, he picked up the Lysol can and sprayed her shoes and coat before going back into the kitchen. He re-began his usual task of running his trusty lint roller all over the already clean and sanitized surfaces. When most of the paper came back with barely any brown spots his face lit up.

Picking up his little catty that held his cleaning supplies, he moved into the living room where he stopped in his tracks when he saw his girlfriend laying on the couch, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of white cotton panties. He rolled his eyes and pondered how he was supposed to clean in the living room without waking her up. He didn't have the heart to place her back in her room since one, she was worn out and two, her room's air conditioning was still broken and it was a particularly hot day.

He opted to just clean around her as quietly as possible, not moving any furniture around so it wouldn't disturb her slumber. After finishing wiping off some of the dirt and grime, he grabbed a clean rag and began using furniture polish to make the wood shine more than it already was. He felt really proud when he could actually see his own reflection on it.

He started to pick up the various pictures they kept on the coffee table to wipe them off when he heard Y/N stir in her sleep behind him. He didn't really pay attention, much too focused on his task at hand and used to his girlfriend's sleeping antics. All was still for a few minutes, until she once again shifted in her sleep, only this time she released a sound that definitely startled him, making him drop the frame onto the coffee table. He semi kept it from making too much noise, cringing as he heard Y/N move even more, afraid he might have woken her up.

"Hwa...."

He whipped his head around, body turning with it as he questioned whether he was hearing things right or not. Scooting closer to her, Seonghwa looked down and noticed tiny sweat beads on her hairline, eyes scrunched together in frustration, nails scratching at the leather cushion she had her head rested on, hips slightly grinding against the couch underneath her. And to top it all off, she began emitting muffled moans, he was sure of it, knowing fully well what they sounded like.

Standing up, Seonghwa moved to sit behind her. Feeling the weight shift underneath her, Y/N unconsciously let one of her legs dangle off the couch, giving Seonghwa a perfect glimpse at the wet stain that was forming in her panties.

"Fuck.......you get wet dreams?"

He couldn't resist the urge to swipe his tongue across his lips as he stared at her core. Sucking in a breath, he got up and went back to his task of cleaning up, trying to think of anything to help calm down the boner that he was growing inside his sweatpants. He seemed to be doing a pretty good job at it.......

"Seonghwa...."

Dropping the rag onto the floor, Seonghwa pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't do this to me. I can't..."

He let out a grunt when he saw just how big the tent in between his legs was. He took slow and deep breaths, hoping to cool himself down. He could not and would not wake up his exhausted girlfriend just because he felt the need to fuck her brains out. But as he heard her moans turn to whimpers and frustrated groans, he found his resolve weakening. He got back up and sat behind her again, watching her slow movements. He outstretched his hand and let it rest on top of her ass, his fingers eventually digging into her soft and tender skin, the wet patch in her panties becoming bigger and more soaked.

Quickly untying the drawstring, Seonghwa slipped his hand inside his pants, pumping himself slowly as he drew his hand in between her legs, one finger poking at her wet patch. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips when he felt her press back into his touch.

"Always responsive to my touch, aren't you my little bunny?"

Pushing her panties aside, he easily slipped one finger inside, wiggling it around experimentally. Seonghwa let out a proud smirk when she was still responding to his advances, her walls stretching out to accommodate the next two fingers he pushed inside her.

"So tight......so warm........"

He kept slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her, loving the way her walls clenched around his fingers. Wanting to test something out, he slipped his fingers completely out of her. Instantly, her lips pouted and she let out what sounded like a whine as her body moved further back, no doubt trying to find his hand once again. Seonghwa shook his head in a mocking manner.

"Always such a needy bunny."

Unable to resist anymore, he adjusts himself to lay down behind her and brought his face down near her back. Starting from her lower back, he began to place tiny open mouth kisses along her curves and trailed them down to her ass cheeks, where he began squishing them in his palms. Taking a hold of her panties, he slowly peeled them off her body and down her legs, effectively ridding her of the confining garment. His hands went back to her ass, lifting her up slightly. He bit his lip when he spread her folds, nearly drooling at the sight of her wet and delicious pussy.

Diving right in, he poked his tongue out, swiping it all up her slit. He felt her body shiver at the contact, but he remained undeterred. He just continued by swirling his tongue around her wet hole before sliding it in and out of her, occasionally latching his lips on her clit to give her a generous suck that had her whining. Somewhere along the way, Seonghwa became lost in her taste. Not longer paying attention to his surroundings, he just buried his face more into her heat, eating her out with a passionate and desperate hunger, unable to get enough of her. He was so distracted he didn't even notice that the girl had been woken up, her eyelids fluttering open and gasping softly as they looked at the scene taking place behind her.

"Seonghwa..."

Her hand reached out to stroke his hair, making his eyes shoot up and see her lustful gaze.

"Hey sleeping beauty." He giggled as he detached himself from her core, but not before giving her one last suck, emitting loud slurping sound.

"H-Hwa!" She called out at him, confused at what was going on as she still hadn't fully awoken yet.

Sitting up, he hovered his body on top of hers, hands cupping her jaw as he kissed her tenderly, remnants of her juices now being tossed into her mouth.

"You're so pretty, so tempting....couldn't hold myself back. You just looked so gorgeous." He justified his actions yet she was not complaining, except for one tiny thing.

"Seonghwa-" She begged him, hand reaching in between his legs to cup his boner.

Knowing what she was hinting at, he pulled away and began turning her back onto all fours.

"Don't worry bunny, I haven't forgotten that you haven't came yet."

His fingers took hold of the hem of her tank top, lifting it over her head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. His pants and underwear soon followed suit and ended discarded around the room. He guided her so she could rest her head and hands on the armrest.

"Just relax and leave it all to me babygirl."

Pressing a hand down on her back, he lined himself up and slowly began to push himself in, earning quite a few gasps and moans from both of them. He began a slow and steady pace, wanting her to feel every vein and ridge against her walls, not wanting to go harsh at all since she was still pretty tired. He opted for more sensual and deep strokes so he could hit against that spot that would have her crying out for him soon.

"You look so pretty my little bunny. You're taking me so well my little one."

She couldn't help but clench at his words, loving his pet name for her and the praises he was giving her.

"Fuck! Yes bunny- clench around me like that. God you feel amazing."

He moved his hands to cup her breasts, being gentle as he squeezed them and bounced them on his palms, fingers occasionally pinching and playing with her nipples.

Y/N released tiny pants and breaths, her ass pushing back against him whenever he pulled out of her. She loved her boyfriend's cock so much. It was long and girthy and best of all, he knew exactly how to angle his hips so he'd leave her seeing stars every time she came.

"You like that my dear? Like how my cock feels inside your little hole?"

She let out a shudder when his hand move to wrap around her waist, fingers caressing her lower stomach. He hummed softly as he ran his fingers across her tummy.

"Baby..?" She could hear his mischievous tone that was up to something.

Leaning in, he whispered in her ear.

"Let me cum inside you this time....."

She looked back at him with a puzzled look, however he was calm as he continued rolling his hips slowly against hers. He bent down to kiss her softly.

"Wanna fuck my baby in you."

She pulled away from the kiss to moan.

"S-Seonghwa-" She couldn't believe his words.

"Please my little bunny. Think about how insanely cute you'll look with a swollen belly.......carrying our little bundle of joy."

She clenched involuntarily at his words, nearly cumming right then and there. Seonghwa began thrusting a little harder against her.

"Fuck! You'll be so pretty with all the extra weight and bigger breasts- shit! Baby I'm gonna cum soon-please!"

He was erratic by now, begging her in earnest as he continued to fuck her pussy. Hearing his desperate pleas, Y/N gripped onto the armrest as she began cumming all over him.

"Seonghwa! Just- cum inside me!" She cried out.

Letting out a harsh grunt, Seonghwa began shaking as he spilled himself inside her, making sure to fill her up as much as he could, not stopping his movements until her tight walls milked him dry of all his hot cum. Y/N's face stayed hidden on the couch, face flushed and sweaty from all that just happened. She hissed slightly when she felt Seonghwa pull out of her. His finger worked quick to catch the cum leaking out a her, pushing it back inside and ensuring it wouldn't come out again. Turning her over, he brushed some of the hair away from her face, an adoring smile on his face.

"Seonghwa......what if...what if I do get pregnant?" Although it was in the spur of the moment, she wasn't completely sure if he meant it or not.

"Then I'll be the happiest man alive."

His answer shocked her, and he snores at her reaction.

"You're seriously hoping I get p-pregnant?" She raised an eyebrow and then looked down, unsure of how to feel.

Sensing her apprehension, Seonghwa pulled her up so it'd be easier to hug her.

"Listen honey, I'm serious about this. I want to start a family with you. Yes we're both young, but I think we're perfectly capable of raising a child. And don't worry..."

He kissed her forehead before whispering.

"I'll take care of you."

Y/N softened up at his words, unable to suppress the shy smile that was beginning to form on her lips.

"Well....I always did want a little girl.." She admitted.

Seonghwa beamed enthusiastically.

"So if I did get you pregnant-"

"Hold on Hwa, you're getting ahead of yourself. You forgot I'm on the pill so chances are that I'm not pregnant." She giggled.

Letting out a huff, Seonghwa picked his girlfriend up and started heading towards the bedroom.

"Ok from now on, stop taking the birth control and right now relax..."

She let out a squeak when he dropped her onto his bed and crawled on top of her, his eyes full of determination accompanied by a sly smirk on his lips.

"Cause we're trying this again..."

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Coffee of the Week pt.2

Icon credit: @thatspookyagent

Summary: This is the second part to Coffee of the Week, where Colin takes the reader out for their date. You can read Part 1 Here

Warnings: None this is pure fluff

Word Count: 2245

"So," Mare said in a bored voice. "Have you decided where you're taking her for your date tonight?" Colin paused for a moment before answering, which confirmed Mare’s suspicions

"No I have not." Colin said, doing his best to avoid Mare's judgmental eyes. 

"Really man, you had all week to think of a place."

"I know." He signed leaning back in his chair, he swiveled it to the side to face Mare. "But like where would I even take her? There's only like three restaurants in Eastown." 

"Hey!” Mare said defensively. "We have four restaurants you're forgetting the KFC that's attached to the Taco Bell." Mare joked as she began to put away her papers. 

'My bad." Colin smiled to himself at Mare's little joke. It seems that lately she was warming up to him, it was nice to be able to joke and talk to her like this. He watched as she cleaned up the rest of her desk.

"But seriously where are you taking her." Mare glanced at the clock on her computer screen before shutting it down. "It's already 6:30 you should be getting ready by now."

Colin glanced down at himself. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

Mare pursed her lips. "Nothing. Just forget I said anything." 

"See there's another thing I have to worry about now." Colin ran a hand down his face. "I haven't even been here that long so I don't really know where is a good place to eat at.” Colin sat with his head in his hands for a moment before lifting it up, eyes glancing towards Mare. He turned slowly towards Mare, a hopeful smile on his face. "Unless you-"

"No." 

"Mare-"

"No."

"If you could recommend-"

"No." 

"Mare please!” He had stood up at this point and moved towards Mare’s desk, she had scooted her chair away from his approaching form, her face scrunched up at his persistent pleading. “Please tell me where to take her! I really like her and I don’t wanna mess up." Mare finally glanced over at him through the corner of her eye. He looked like a kicked puppy, he was so desperate it physically hurt her. 

She sighed. "Fine." Colin's face split open in a wide smile. "Stop that." She snapped, he immediately tried to change his facial expression back to neutral but Mare could see he was trying to fight back his smile. "You should take her to the Italian restaurant that's near the center of town, one of my friends works there." She tore a piece of paper off one of her reports. "Tell her that Mare sent you and she'll make sure to give you a good table and treat you and (y/n) well." She handed the paper over to Colin.

His eagerly grabbed it and smiled widely at Mare, "Thank you so much Mare you-"

She held her hand up to silence him, pointing an accusing finger. "Don't make this into a big deal detective." Mare shrugged on her coat and made her way towards the door. "And if you tell her it's a date she'll throw in a free dessert.

"Thank y-"

"Not. A. Big. Deal." Mare slammed the door shut. Colin smiled at her fading figure, she was definitely warming up to him.

Colin’s heart was beating out of his chest as he pulled up to your house, a million thoughts running through his head. Things like was he too early? It was only 7:30 he wasn't supposed to pick you up till 8:00. What if you weren't ready, was he dressed up enough, was he over dressed?? He shook his head trying to clear all the thoughts that plagued him. 

He made his way to your front door and after a few seconds of hesitation rang your doorbell. The sound of loud barking made him jump up in surprise. “I’m coming.” He heard your voice yell and the sounds of your footsteps approaching the door. You opened the door with a smile, you were holding a big fluffy dog by its collar as it strained against your hold. “Hey Colin! Sorry about him, he always barks when someone is at the door.” He glanced down at the dog, it was eagerly trying to pull its way towards him, tail wagging intensely. “Let me go put him outside. I don’t want him jumping all over you.”

With zero hesitation Colin said. “Let him go.”

“What?” You asked in surprise.

“Let him go, I wanna meet him.”

You let out a little laugh.“ Are you sure? He’s a jumper.”

“Of course!” You let go of your dog’s collar and he went barreling towards Colin, who was squatting down with his arms wide open. Your dog ran into his arms and knocked him flat on his back. You rushed forward to pull your dog back until you saw Colin laughing. Your dog was licking him all over while Colin nestled his face into your dog’s fur. “You’re such a good boy aren't you?” Colin asked as he petted your dog, your dog just wagged his tail even faster and tried to lick Colin’s face even more, you smiled at the sight 

“It seems he likes you.” You giggled out. 

“What’s his name?”

“His name is Tino.” 

“Hello Tino, I’m Colin.” Colin shook your dogs paw introducing himself. You smiled at his antics and squatted down next to him, rubbing Tino’s soft ears in your hand. “What kinda dog is he?” 

“I’m not sure, I adopted him from the center in town and no one seemed to know what kind he was.” Colin nodded at your answer and tried his best to stand back up, it was a task in itself since Tino kept trying to knock him back down. You stood up as well and let out a small laugh at Colin’s appearance. “What?” He asked. His once crisp shirt was wrinkled, and his perfectly combed hair was all tousled. He was covered head to toe in dog fur. 

“I think Tino may have gotten a little bit of fur on you.” He glanced down and saw all the dog's hair sticking to him. He laughed with you and did his best to try and pick the dog hair off. ‘Wait here.” You went inside and came back with a lint roller in hand. He took it and began to roll it up and down his clothes. You moved closer to him and brushed his hair out of his face, smoothing it back into place. He blushed at the action. 

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yea! Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!” You laughed, it really wasn't he only really had three options on where to take you in Easttown. And you figured it wasn't going to be the Taco Bell or KFC. 

The ride to the restaurant didn't take too long and in no time you two had pulled up to the place. He parked and rushed out of the car to your side. He opened your door for you and you swooned at the old fashioned action. You looped your arm through his and he led you to the door, he whispered something to the hostess and she smiled widely and quickly led you two to a table. It was almost sectioned off from the other ones, it had an aura of privacy to it. She rushed over and placed a rose in the vase at the center of the table and lit up the candles. Colin pulled the chair out for you before sitting down on his own. 

He picked at the table cloth, not meeting your eyes. “‘So, did I pick a good place?’ He asked with a nervous smile.

“Mhmm, this is my favorite out of all of Easttown’s numerous restaurants.” You smiled at him coyly, he let out a little laugh. 

The rest of the night seemed to speed by, you and Colin just clicked, there wasn’t a moment that wasn't filled with conversation. Either about his work or about your own, him telling stories about his current cases or you telling him about the rude customers you had gotten that day. Then it shifted towards talking about your favorite tv shows or movies. He admitted that his job didn't leave him much time to watch tv and you vowed that one of your date nights had to be a tv or movie marathon. He blushed at the insulation that there was going to be a second date. 

You two had just finished off your meals when the hostess came by holding a piece of Tiramisu, you let yourself think about the irony of it. You guys had met at your coffee shop and here you were on your first date beings served a coffee flavored dessert. She set it down in front of you two. The plate was decorated with chocolate powder in the shape of a heart. You glanced down at the table and noticed Colin’s hand resting on the table, inching its way closer to yours. You closed the distance and placed your hand over his, squeezing it lightly. He smiled up at you and you returned it. He let you take the first bite of the desert, and he even let you have the last bite. He was a true gentleman through and through. 

The drive home was filled with constant loving stares back and forth, your hands resting intertwined on your thigh. When you guys got back to your place you didn't want to leave the car, it had been a while since you had a date like that. One filled with so much comfort and romance, one you never wanted to end. More often that you went on dates with sleazy men that picked you up two hours late and flirted with your hostess. Which resulted in you sneaking out the bathroom window and drinking your sorrows away at the bar. But you had a feeling you wouldn't be ditching any of your upcoming dates. 

Colin, being the gentleman he was, got out and went to open your door for you, much to his and your own dismay. You slid out of the seat and walked as slowly as possible to your front door. He held both your hands in his own. “This was fun.” He looked down at his shoes, not meeting your eyes, fearing you wouldn’t agree with him.

“It really was, we should do it again.” His head whipped up at your response, a smile taking hold of his features. 

“How does next Friday sound?”

“LIke it’s too far away.” He blushed at your words. “But I think I can wait till then if you continue to come by every morning.” 

“Well I couldn't very well start each day without the best cup of coffee in the world now could I?”

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, his heart fluttered at being able to make you laugh. What he wouldn't give to spend the rest of his life trying to make you laugh. A little warning light went off in him at that thought, was he seriously already thinking of spending his life with you. You guys had only met this week and it was only your first date. What if you thought he was moving too fast? What if you didn't want to even go out again? Wait, you had just said you wanted to go out again. He was spiraling, lost in his own thoughts. You saw his brow furrow and reached your hand out to smooth out his worry lines. 

“What’s bugging’ ya detective?” His eyes widened at hearing your sweet voice address him by detective. 

“Nothing, just lost in my thoughts.” His ears turned red at the realization he had just zoned out in front of you. You just giggled, moving your hand down to cup his face. He leaned into your soft touch and slowly moved his hands up to rest on your waist. He pulled you closer and you began to slowly move forward. Your lips connected, it was very soft and hesitant. You moved your other hand up to cup the back of his neck, running your fingers near the edges of his hair. The wind blew softly around you two, making your hair and his coat flutter. You pulled away and rested your foreheads together. You looked up at him through your lashes, reluctantly beginning to pull away. “Goodnight detective.” 

He pulled away as well, letting his hand linger in your own, holding on to your fingertips until he couldn't anymore. “Goodnight (y/n), I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“I can’t wait.” You closed the door and he stayed outside your door until he heard the locks click shut. Once he knew you were safe he made his way back to the car, pumping his arms in the air, in joy. 

Unknown to him you were watching his little display of happiness from your window. You did your best to suppress a fit of giggles as you sat down at the little window seat, unfastening your heels and tossing them to the floor. You tucked your feet underneath yourself and watched him get back into his car, a smile never leaving his face, and never leaving yours. You gently touch your fingertips to your lips, the lingering taste of his lips on your own. You sighed at the memory,  he was going to be the death of you. 

[waitin-makes-me-antsy]

my friend just sent me their list of quotes from when me and them were in newsies so here’s: newsie quotes except they’re actually from my production of newsies rehearsals so it’s basically canon

newsies: *arguing*

Spot: stop being SALTY!

Spot: *throws a packet of salt at Romeo*

Spot: *starts handing out salt packets*

——————————

Les: *jumps up from his chair into the yoga warrior pose and makes dinosaur noises*

Les: I’m imitating Romeo!

Davey: NEVER do that.

——————————-

Race: *pulls a lint roller out of absolutely nowhere and starts lint rolling people*

Race: y’all are dirty

———————————-

Race: your hairstyle makes you look like a sims character

Henry: ....what

————————————-

Race: *at 6:30pm* GOOD MORNING

Finch: it’s... not the morning?

Race: i know i was just testing you

————————————-

Finch: i’ve decided that every time i make a stupid decision i’m just going to yell “it’s a character choice”

—————————————

Specs: my religion is cutie with a bootie

—————————————-

Race: *about kathrines skirt* she looks like a picnic table

Race: shit she didn’t hear me

———————————————-

Finch: *waves at Race* I’m waving at you, wave back at me!

Race: what if i don’t want to?

Finch: well that sucks

————————————————

Specs: Race you can’t talk, you literally look like a lego chihuahua

———————————————

Specs: I have something to tell you guys. i’m fucked up in the brain and i’m SORRY you guys have to deal with me

———————————————

Race: do you have makeup on?

Henry: ....yes

Race: okay, you always look flawless

———————————————

our director: okay so Race isn’t here

Wiesel: which one is Race?

Kathrine: he’s short, has a lot of energy,,,,,

Finch: he has really floppy black hair

Wiesel: ohhhhh hes the kid with the hair

————————————————

Finch: i dare you to eat a piece of paper

Spot: okay *grabs a sheet of paper and puts it in his mouth*

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Little Bad Habits (Dating MC)

– Zen –

Litter. Everywhere. Not permanently, he’s not that much of a slob, he does do chores regularly and stuff. But he just ... tosses his clothes and cigarette wrappers and other things literally everywhere, and leaves it for ‘later’. 

Since he’s so anal about his health, he kinda disrupts your own eating habits by coincidence. Grocery shopping can be a challenge when he’s forbidding all desserts and snacks from the cart even though he’s not gonna be eating any of it.

He's bad with technology, so good luck trying to get him to do stuff like answering emails, or paying bills online, or even using apps like Yelp or Uber. You end up in charge of most software in the house. 

It’s sweet that he texts you with random pickup lines and pictures three times a day, but damn it I keep thinking it’s something important I’m expecting, and instead it’s just one of your bathroom selfies with a heart drawn in the fogged up mirror. 

Zen, can you not have these bad tepid takes like ‘women look better without makeup’, or ‘being the man of the house is the mark of being an adult’, or ‘those who couldn’t work for every penny they’ve had don’t deserve it’? No, Zen, let me pout you’re being an idiot right now.

– Yoosung –

AXE bodywash, AXE bodyspray, AXE shampoo. He uses it because it’s ‘manly’? But god it’s so strong and synthetic-smelling. He needs your help in moving away from this brand. 

He’s also prone to clutter, even more so than Zen. It takes a while before he stops leaving all his laundry on the floor and takes that extra step in hanging it up, or folding it into his dresser. And good luck trying to get him to wash dishes every day, rather than leaving it overnight. 

It’d be nice if you were more enthusiastic about my interests, Yoosung. You may not enjoy visiting Sephora as much as I do, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abandon me at the doorway to hang out at GameStop. 

He does a bunch of these little roommate mistakes like using up all the hot water, or not refilling the Brita, or always leaving the empty toilet paper roll for you. Yoosung, you gotta learn how to live with another person!!

He’ll always be prone to jealousy, which doesn’t cause a problem most days, but if you ever become a fan of some idol or celebrity, be prepared for some pouting, maybe even a cold shoulder or two. He can’t even side-eye the TV like he does catcallers or people on the street, so he’s twice as frustrated. 

– Jaehee –

She’s bad at recycling. She didn’t even do it for a long time, and only started recently. Even now, she’ll toss random plastic bits into either container, paying no mind to whether it’s recyclable or not. She won’t rise milk jugs or tin cans before throwing them away. 

Now that her hair is growing out, she sheds it everywhere. RIP the shower drain, the carpet, the furniture. The two of you gotta invest in rubber mops and lint rollers just for her hair.

She’s a very clean and organized person, except for her makeup, which all sits in a dusty old bag with old leaking bottles getting over everything, brushes and sponges she doesn’t wash, and literally every product is old and expired. And then she kisses you with her lipstick on and causes an acne breakout. 

When she settles down to watch TV while relaxing, she likes to turn her flatscreen up waaayy loud, which is fine unless you’re working on something and the noise is just so distracting. Jaehee, I’m trying to do the books on the cafe, you gotta turn Zen’s musical down!

When she gets colds, she sometimes hides it as long as she can, which makes everyone around her get colds too. She may have been able to avoid a couple of boring sick days, but now you’ve got a sore throat. Thanks, honey, I love you too. 

– Jumin –

He kept calling you in the middle of the day with full expectation that you’d answer every single time, especially during the beginning of the relationship. Jumin, I’ve got my own work. It’s okay if I miss a message or two, I’m not your employee.

He has a physical trainer, dietician, and physician regime that he follows rigorously, and he kinda expected you to do the same even if you didn’t want to. Even now, he brings up a nutrition plan once and a while, even if you are totally not interested in following a food calendar. “It’s for your health, love,” well, Jumin, my health calls for a big bowl of barbecue chips. 

He’s surprisingly clingy in bed. The two of you fall asleep in the middle of the mattress, and by morning you’re hanging on for dear life at the edge of the bed while Jumin is pushing as close to you as humanly possible. More than once you’ve been rudely awakened by falling out of bed and hitting the hard marble floor. 

Jumin, stop entering the bathroom while I’m on the toilet, or in the shower! I close the door for a reason. No it’s not like I wanna avoid you, I just wanna shit in peace

He sometimes makes plans without your input, which works for surprises, but not so much for dinner at the Galaria and he’s already downstairs waiting for you while you’re totally not ready. 

– Saeyoung –

All that Phd. Pepper has to go somewhere, and it tends to escape out of both orifices, so to speak. 

No joke, the boy is gassy. And he teases you with it, like making himself fart right when you decide to sit next to him on the couch just to hear you “EWW!!” and squirm away. You’re lucky you’re cute, 707. 

Even when his work schedule becomes more normal, he still doesn’t keep a regular schedule. He does stretches of days where he stays up until 4am, then he spends the next week sleeping 14 hours a day. It can be hard to spend time with someone who’s either dead tired when you’re awake, or super hyper when you’re about to sleep. 

He’s very particular when it comes to his cars. You can’t eat or drink in them, not even gum. You can’t put your feet anywhere except squarely in the footrests, god forbid you absentmindedly rest them against the dashboard. No picking at the leather, no scratching the carbon fiber, you can pet the soft velvet but you’re on thin ice. 

Saeyoung, can you shower more, please? You smell like old ham and your hair isn’t doing so good either. Yes, I will give you a kiss, but only if you hop in the bathtub right now. 

– Saeran –

Like his brother, his sleeping schedule is wack. He’ll spend several all-nighters and then clonk out for a long while, too tired to do anything. And not because of work, either, he just doesn’t have a good sleep schedule. 

Loves to cook, hates to clean. Leaves all the dirty dishes, pans and pots, and countertops for as long as humanly possible, which means someone else is usually the one stuck cleaning it all up. It gets better when the household arranges duties for everyone so Saeran’s in charge of meals while another cleans up afterwards, but even then it can still get dirty.

Sweats in his sleep, which is further exacerbated by some of his medication. Sleeping next to him means sticky skin and wet bedsheets. He has to wash his pajamas every other day.

You gotta hide your sweets or else Saeran’s gonna steal them. He stress-eats during his worse days, and besides that he’s just got a monster sweet tooth, so he’ll finish his entire pint of ice cream and steals yours, too. Then he finds your hidden package of gingersnap cookies and oops, there goes your snack.

He hates having his hair cut, it’s a weird sensory experience for him and he gets anxious while having to sit still for so long. He won’t go to the salon so he tries to cut it himself, which hogs up the bathroom for two hours and leaves shed hair all over the sink. Once you start helping him, he feels better about the experience.

– Jihyun –

He cannot be trusted with the laundry. He shrinks all the knitwear, keeps forgetting to clean the lint tray, and all his whites are no longer white. You gotta be in charge if you don’t want your wardrobe to end up like his. 

Jihyun, I know you grew up with money but when the toilet is clogged you don’t call the plumber, you take this plunger and try to unclog it yourself with bleach. And no, we don’t need a new refrigerator just because the light bulb burst. 

He’s surprisingly tough to sleep next to in bed. You eventually get used to it, but for a while you kept getting kicked by his long limbs, or getting punched by a flailing arm. And he drools, too, sometimes onto your hair. 

Why. Do you. Clip your nails on the bed. Ew, stop that. 

He’s prone to getting caught up in hipster food trends, like superfood phenomenons. Jihyun, you know that apricot pits are poisonous, right? I know the co-op recommended them but I gotta feel like that’s a marketing gimmick. Please don’t eat them, put those down. 

[voltage-fanfictions]

One Time Too Many

Anonymous request: Can you do angst with BMP 2 Ivan where MC leaves him for being unaffectionate/insensitive?

“Ivan, it’s late. You should really come and get some sleep.”

“Not now.”

“But Ivan-“

“I said not now.” His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. His eyes only leaving the papers in front of him for a second when he didn’t hear the door close. “Go to bed, you have no need to still be awake.”

His harsh stare didn’t leave your form, watching as your face fell, hands clenching into your nightshirt over your chest. For a moment it looked as if you were going to speak again, but your lips fell closed softly, eyes dropping to the floor as a look of defeat came over your face.

“Alright…” Your voice trailed off, hesitating momentarily before turning around and leaving the room, shuttling the door with a gentle click behind you.

With you gone, he shut his eyes. Both the pen in his hand and his head dropped, his interlaced hands becoming the resting place of his forehead. Yes he was tired but he had no time to consider that. Cracking open an eye he glanced to the pile of documents to the side that seemed to be ever growing. Although he had yet to be crowned King of Sanct Sybil, about six months prior his father had begun to struggle with ill health and was slowly starting to deteriorate in terms of his capabilities, meaning more and more of his responsibilities were beginning to fall into his hands.

For months there had been rumours circulating about his father, from the absurdity of him having abdicated or passing away in secret to the more correct guesses of him no longer being able to handle public appearances, and with no-one stepping in to say what was actually happening the unrest was beginning to be felt across the kingdom, and civil unrest was never a good thing when dealing with trade in other countries. However, his father had yet to express the want to back down from his position nor did he want the public to know of his state, very much believing in remaining a strong figurehead until the end, meaning he had to take on all of his responsibilities in secret. Of course, with him having so much more to deal with now, he was appearing in public himself much less with most of his day being spent in his office dealing with various stacks of paperwork and that in itself was causing even more rumours. With neither royal having been seen for a while he had heard the whispers of resistance groups wanting to overthrow them and take the nation in the name of one of the previously merged countries. Such extremist groups had always existed, but naturally around times of leadership changes or distress their causes became more supported, their venom reached further than normal.

You had offered to help, to take his place during royal summons to try and reduce some of the stress on him no doubt, but he and advisors had quickly rejected the notion. Technically you weren’t yet a part of the royal family, being neither his fiancée or wife, meaning politically you didn’t hold the position to be representing them alone, only being allowed to do so when with Ivan, but he also didn’t want you going out alone as a royal whilst the kingdom was as unstable as it currently was. Doing that would make you a prime target of extremists as a way to try and display their own power and conviction and also make the royals seem weak. He couldn’t let that happen. Shaking his head and heaving a sigh, he returned to work once more.

It wasn’t until his vision blurred to the point of being physically unable to read that he stopped, rubbing his eyes no longer clearing them. Knowing he had reached his daily limit he rose to his feet, placing away the documents securely for him to start on again when he had rested. The halls were silent apart from the echo of his own footsteps as he made his way back to his room.

He didn’t turn on the light, the curtains were cracked illuminating your sleeping form, walking to you, he rested a hand on your cheek when he noticed the furrow in your brow, clearly troubled even in your sleep. Even with his presence your expression didn’t soften. Stripping off his normal clothes he took his place in bed beside you, facing out the window he continued to gaze at the full moon. His back was cold, you were as far away from him as the bed would allow, curled up at the very edge. When this had first started, no matter the time he would return to the room you would greet him with a tired smile, he would admonish you for it each time, and when you thought he had finally fallen asleep you would hug him from behind, your warmth helping to lull him into slumber. How long had it been since that stopped?

Back in his office the next day he wasn’t given time to dwell on the thoughts from the previous night as he was straight back into work. Hours merged as paper after paper was taken, read, analysed, commented on, accepted, declines or sent back for more information. It was a knock on the door that once again drew his attention away. Sighing, he gave a call for them to enter and Mikhail did so followed by you.

“What are you doing here?” His tone came out far more clipped than he meant it to be, and he noticed you shrink back slightly from him, before he looked to your hands. In them lay a tray, a plate on top with steam rolling off the meal.

“I made you lunch.” He turned away, time spent with you was easy, it was far too easy to lose track and end up having lost hours of the day when he promised himself he would only take half an hour out. The insinuation of the meal was clear, you wanted to eat with him. He wanted to indulge you and himself, but there just wasn’t the time in his day.

“Thank you, leave it there and I’ll get to it shortly.”

“Can’t we-“

“Mikhail, in future please deliver meals yourself, she doesn’t need to waste time on such errands when she still has training to complete.” The butler’s expression fell somewhere between shock and a frown.

“Your Highness-“

“Ivan I can take a short while out of my day to give you lunch, and you should take time out as well!”

“You don’t know, as a matter of fact I don’t have time to take out.” He didn’t bother to add on that it was that way no matter his own desires. “Please leave now, I don’t have time to argue about this.” He raised his hand and motioned to Mikhail, the silver haired man sighed, stepping forward and resting a hand on your back.

“Please allow me to escort you out my lady.” The sympathy in his voice was clear as he began to gently guide you from the room.

“Wait a moment.” Your head snapped around the moment his voice reached your ears, expectation shining brightly in your eyes. “Friday next week the National Museum of Sanct Sybil is re-opening after major renovations, I will be going to the opening ceremony and you will join me.”

“Next Friday?”

“Yes, I said next Friday.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m sorry?” He glared. “You can’t?”

“I have something I have to do that day.” His patience wearing thin and ignoring the warning stare from Mikhail he stood from his desk, striding over to you.

“Something to do? You will one day be queen of Sanct Sybil, you will be a symbol of power and unity to this country. I’m sorry, but your personal errands can and will be carried out another time! This museum has been a national treasure for decades and you will be there to celebrate its reopening, not being there would be an insult to those who work there and the history of Sanct Sybil itself! Your attendance is non negotiable! Do I make myself clear?” His frustration leaked into his voice clearly, spoken so loudly is nearly echoed in the room. Any argument you had died in your throat, the unshed tears shone in your eyes and you didn’t respond, turning on your heels and fleeing from the office. Mikhail seemed conflicted, eyes flitting between the door you just exited through and back to him. He sighed, seating himself back in his chair.

“Your Highness-“

“Don’t lecture me Mikhail. No matter what she had planned, this is a huge reflection on her character. The people of Sanct Sybil support her, but if they think she’s starting to shirk her duties she could lose that favour. If she loses public support she could be in even more danger, we might be forbidden from being together.”

“Ivan.” The use of his first name drew his eyes up to the silver haired man. “I hold a lot of respect for you, and I tell you this not just as your butler, but as a friend. I know you do and say what you do to her to protect her, but she doesn’t. You should listen to what she has to say.”

“Are you deliberately ignoring my orders? I told you not to lecture me yet you do so anyway. Our relationship is none of your concern, and you will not interfere.” There was a tense moment of silence before Mikhail sighed.

“Very well, I’ll leave you be and go and check on her.”

Silence filled the room as he left, soon to be overtaken by the scratch of pen on paper, he needed to get as much done before he had to go to this opening ceremony. Perhaps the two of you could talk then.

The next week passed uneventfully for the most part, only the inclusion of talks around the security of the trip for the two of you and a rather tense conversation around the rise of extremist activities. Of course he was worried, but it was a dangerous balancing act between safety and public image, there were suggestion of brining the military out to the public to act as a deterrent, but doing so too early could also reflect badly on them. The last thing they needed at this point was the public saying that they were only doing this to show their power or that it was an overreaction. Not only that, what if this was part of a bigger plan in which the military was a target? He didn’t want to put lives in danger unnecessarily, be they solider or civilian.

Having finalised the security detail of today, he stared in the mirror, straightening out his collar. You had gone to change in another room leaving him alone with his even stoic butler who ran a lint roller over the back of his suit.

“Are you sure you would like no-one else with you today?”

“No, any more people would make security more difficult and unpredictable, it will just be the two of us, please just prepare for our return and make sure those documents get to where they need to be.” Meeting his eye in the mirror he gave a prompt nod before stepping to the side, allowing him to pass by and leave the room to meet you in the limo.

Making his way down, he didn’t have to wait long for you to appear. In a modest dress you emerged at the end of the hallway with a maid, the woman beside you pulling you into a gentle hug upon noticing your forlorn expression. You seemed to take comfort in the gesture, leaning into the hug and wrapping your arms around the older woman’s back as if trying to use her to hold yourself together. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the odd behaviour. You soon pulled yourself from the hug, taking a breath before walking out to join him. He went to open the door for you, but you got there before him, pulling the handle and sliding in. He sighed, climbing into the car and noticing you were sat at the other window refusing to meet his eye. He shook his head, simply assuming you were still upset about the fact he had made you attend over your errand so the two of you simply sat in a tense silence. He waited for you to break it, but after ten minutes of you ignoring his presence he decided this silence had gone on for too long.

“Don’t you think enough is enough?” You glanced out the corner of your eye to him, but shut your eyes and turned your face away slightly. “I know you’re upset about your plans, but you mustn’t let it show. You mustn’t let it look like it’s a chore for you to be there.” You still didn’t respond, so with a sigh he conceded. “Fine, act as you like for now. But the moment you’re in public view you need to smile.”

The two of you sunk back into the silence for the remainder of the journey. Upon reaching the museum he automatically put his guard up, exiting the limo first and scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble as one of the guards offered you his hand and helped you out. He stepped away from the car, holding out his arm in a clear invite for you to take it. Slowly you joined him from your side of the car, guards lining the streets either side of the two of you. As asked, you were smiling, it didn’t reach your eyes, but it was no longer something that could be mentioned, so making do with your loose grip on him he escorted you up the marble stairs to the grand entrance of the museum that was covered by a thick red ribbon that stretched the width of the entryway. The claps and cheers of the audience rung in his ears as he walked you back to the ribbon, pecking you on the cheek, briefly tightening his hand around yours before taking his place at the podium and allowing the crowd to settle before he spoke.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,

It is with much appreciation that myself and the Princess stand here today to commemorate the re-opening of the Sanct Sybil National Museum after two years of hard and dedicated work from skilled craftsmen to restore this iconic monument. The effort put forth by them shines through every part of this structure, and serves as a fitting home for the history once again housed within its wall.

Sanct Sybil has come a long way from where it started, but we must never forget where we came from, or those who made it possible for us to live as we do. Therefore I would like for all of you to join me in celebrating this re-opening, for us to hold dear to our hearts the history that has led us to where we are, and to carry on their legacy of fighting for a better Sanct Sybil so the generations that follow ours can look back on us with the same thankfulness.”

The end of his speech was met with applauds and cheers as he turned and motioned you to his side. You did so obediently, plastering a smile on your face as he took your hand, each of you taking on side of the large scissors he had been given you posed for a moment at the ribbon, allowing the press to get their photos before finally cutting it.

Security stayed barely out of site as he guided you to the side, out of the way of the people entering the museum, nodding and greeting those who spoke to him as they entered.

“Are we not going in ourselves?”

“No, it’s too dangerous at the moment, the security may be the latest but our attendance has been broadcast nationwide. We can’t be sure of who might be waiting for a us.”

“Were you actually going to tell me we were only going to be here to cut the ribbon?”

“It may ‘just’ be ribbon cutting for you, but people can latch onto the smallest things. Crowd mentality could be used against you if you’re seen to be disrespecting Sanct Sybil.”

“Is missing one event all it takes to be seen as disrespectful around here?”

“Times are tense, and the tabloids will jump on anything they can to get a sale, even if it’s discrediting honest people and lying. They don’t care about the damage they do.”

Noticing that the security detail had begun to move, and that everyone had entered the museum, he took your hand in his. “Come now, we should head back to the palace. It’s safer there.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, but bit your tongue no doubt remembering you were still in public, he gently pulled you along, but soon noticed noise and commotion up ahead. Motioning to the closest security guard, he approached looking mildly nervous.

“What’s happening?”

“Your highness, there are protesters. They’ve surrounded the limo.”

“What?” He managed to cloak his panic with just a slight widening of his eyes. “Is there any violence yet?”

“Not as of yet, but they’re riling each other up rather quickly, I don’t imagine it’ll be long.”

He frowned, crowd mentality was a dangerous thing. He had to get you out of there, and fast. He wasn’t going to risk your safety.

“There’s a spare unmarked car around the back of the museum, take her there and get her back to the palace as soon as possible. Let myself and my security detail know as soon as she’s there.”

“Ivan! I’m not leaving you-“

“You are.” He motioned to some of the security force. “You’ll guide her there, make sure no one is following you. Stay on high alert until she’s back within the palace gates, do you understand me? If anything happens to her, you will be held responsible.” They nodded, quickly taking your arm despite your protests and taking you around the side of the museum. He turned his back on you, walking away as he heard you calling out his name. “Be safe.”

It took many stressful hours to subdue the crowd. He had spoken to and made arrangements with more people than he care to count, from liaising with the museum staff to ensure the safe exit of their guests, to the police to get them working together with the royal security to contain the riot and to make sure those who started it were identified and arrested, and then contacting the department of information to pass on the identities of those involved to be investigated. Of course, he hadn’t let the stress show on his face, how could he as the symbol of Sanct Sybil? So by the time he returned to the palace himself, he was thoroughly exhausted.

He went to head to his room, but the hurried footsteps in his direction caused him to pause.

“What the hell are you playing at Ivan?!” Your angry voice reached his ears, and he had to hold back a sigh of exhaustion as he turned to face you.

“This isn’t personal. You needed to be removed from the area for your own safety.”

“Oh no no. You don’t get to make this about me Ivan. I have been trying so hard to be understanding, but I’m reaching my limit here! We promised to stay together! How could you just throw me in a car and send me off like I’m some kind of nuisance?! No explanation, no apology, no reassurance, NOTHING! For eight hours I’ve been wondering if you’re alive, injured, I had no idea! Do you know how helpless you’ve been making me feel recently?!” Your yelling rung around his skull, he needed to talk to you. Tell you of what had been happening, but he couldn’t now. He was far too tired, he couldn’t have such a straining conversation with you in the state he was currently in.

“Look, we can discuss this tomorrow. I’m tired and wish to go to bed now, I’ll be meeting with a number of governors tomorrow, so can we please postpone this until tomorrow evening?”

You seemed frozen in place, eyes wide, limbs shaking with pent up rage as you desperately bit your tongue. That was until you stalked past him.

“I’m staying in a guest room tonight. Don’t disturb me.” Your clipped warning was all he received before you disappeared down the corridor. Something about your tone unsettled him, he had seen you angry before, but to have it directed at him was not a pleasant experience. With another sigh, he trudged back to your shared bedroom, allowing a maid in to take you enough for the night from your wardrobe and vanity, before he changed and slid into bed, hoping the two of you would be able to fully discuss this tomorrow.

The next day was plain, he brushed off Mikhail’s suggestion of having a small talk with you before he left for the day, informing him that he was extremely busy and wouldn’t be free, but he also felt that perhaps it would be better to give you some more time to cool down. When he spoke with you, he wanted the both of you to be calm, he also advised Mikhail to return the items you had taken to the guest room back to your bedroom, he wouldn’t allow this discussion to fail, there was no need for you to sleep in the guest room and cause more work for the maids. His royal duties were easy to deal with, mainly consisting of discussing new potential policies with governors, and deciding whether they make logistical and financial sense, and collecting the paperwork of those that might be for further review. He made quick work of it all, deciding to take some of them home with him, he couldn’t break his plans for tonight.

It was seven in the evening upon his return. The sun had begun to set, dyeing the inside of the palace a beautiful orange. But something was wrong, he could tell. The staff were slow, sullen. The smiles they greeted him with seemed forced.

“Mikhail!” His butler appeared before him as if expecting his call.

“Yes, Your Highness?” He held the papers in his hand out to him.

“Please place these in my office. I need to go and find her.” He obviously knew who the ‘her’ he was referring to was. “Do you know where she is?”

“No, Sir.” He gave a sharp nod to confirm he had heard. There were a few places he thought you could be. The gardens, the library, the guest room you had stayed in. He was confused to find you in none of them, the last place he could think of. The bedroom. Perhaps you hadn’t had a good night sleep, was all he could consider. He knocked on the door, gently calling your name. When he got no response, his brow furrowed. Opening the door the check, his heart dropped. Something was definitely wrong.

The room was bare of any sign of you. The vanity missing your products, your nightstand devoid of framed photos, he checked the wardrobe, half empty. All of your clothes gone. His heart was drumming in his chest, ringing loudly in his ears as the possibilities crowded his thoughts, so he did the only thing he could think to do, and called one of the few people he could trust.

“You called, Your Highness?”

“Mikhail, what’s going on here? Where are her things? Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?!”

“Because the last time I saw her is when she asked for a car to be brought to the front to take her to the airport.” His world seemed to freeze along with his panicked thoughts.

“…What?”

“She left for the airport early this morning.”

“Where was she going?!”

“I don’t know, Sir. I didn’t ask. But I assume she’s gone home.”

“YOU LET HER LEAVE?!”

“Your Highness, it is my job to assist the royals in any request given to me. It is not my job to question and speculate. She asked for a car, I provided her with one. She also asked for me to give you this.” His gloved hand drew an envelope from his blazer pocket, which he then held out to him.

Ivan looked at the crisp white envelope, before carefully plucking it from his butler’s hand. He was furious at him, but he handled it with extreme care, gently running his fingers over his name that was etched in black ink in that familiar handwriting.

“I assumed had has something to do with the funeral.”

“Funeral?”

“Did she not tell you? Her father passed away a few weeks ago, his funeral was yesterday. She was devastated that she couldn’t attend.

The conversation you had had crossed his mind, and he suddenly felt the guilt consume him, he had called something so personal little more than an errand, dismissed it outright. His anger at you felt so misplaced after he realised the reason behind your sadness. Had he truly been so distant from you that you felt unable to tell him something so important?

“Leave, Mikhail. I don’t want to see you for a while.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” He gave a bow, before exiting the room.

Silence enveloped him, and he didn’t want to disturb it, taking slow, quiet steps towards the bed, he turned and sat himself down. Simply staring at the envelope for a while. It felt as if the moment he opened it, he would regret it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read what you had written. But in the end the concern for your wellbeing being won over his nerves, and he opened the envelope, unfolding the letter inside.

Dear Ivan,

I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. I wish I were someone stronger, someone you felt you could rely on, someone you felt safe in sharing your troubles with. But these past months have showed me that this isn’t the case. I’ve tried so hard to reach out to you, so many times I’ve tried to give you even a moment’s rest, but you just won’t hear of it. I’m sorry it took me until yesterday to see it.

It’s become clear to me that we can’t stay together, not like this. It feels as if there’s a mountain between us, and that’s not what a marriage should be built on. I’m not even sure if you’ll care that I’ve left, it certainly doesn’t feel like you’ve cared about much at all, not recently at least. Somewhere along the way, the mutual trust between us has been lost. You seem so far out of my reach, and it breaks my heart to even look at you. I’m sorry I’m not someone you could rely on. I wish you well, Ivan, and I truly do wish you are able to find that person, whoever they may be.

I am sad to go, and I have no doubt this will hurt me for a while, but I don’t hold malice towards you. Your job is an important one, I know this, and I’m sorry that I didn’t notice sooner that there was something stopping you from confiding in me as you did. Time changes people, and it appears to have changed us. There can’t be happiness in such a relationship.

I love you Ivan, and I wish you the very best, as the future ruler of Sanct Sybil, and as a person. From the bottom of my heart. I’ve learnt so much at your side, and grown as a person, and I will be forever thankful for that. Goodbye, and may the very best of luck be with you.

Love,

[Y/N]

He stared at the words, reading over them again and again, nearly burning them into his brain. You were gone. He had never realised how large this palace, how large this room felt to be in alone. Your infectious smile and optimism seemed to coat the walls, and with it gone the place felt hollow and empty. Looking up, he placed the letter on his bedside and in its place picked up a simple framed picture of the two of you. It was taken by one of the princes when they all came over simply because they could. The two of you had taken them all to the field you often took Snieg and Urey , the photo had been snapped there.

It was one of your favourite places, and as he thought back on all the time you two had spent there, he recalled a particular conversation he had had with you whilst there on a picnic.

“You look tired Ivan.”

“I’m alright.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, it’s written clear as day on your face.”

“Alright, I am a little tired.”

“I knew it.”

“It’s to be expected. One day I will carry the responsibility of this whole country.”

“The whole country?” The smile you had given him shone bright in his mind. “Isn’t that stressful?”

“…It can be.”

“Well, if that ever becomes too much to think about, try to think about it in terms of those closest to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, trying to see a whole country isn’t easy. So see it as doing the best thing by those close to you! You know, Mikhail, the staff at the palace. To do the best by them, their families need to be happy as well, do by narrowing it down to the individual level it can be less daunting, you know? See it as not the whole country, but as a few people who are close to your heart. That way, you know you wouldn’t do wrong by them.”

The words you had spoken that day rung in his mind, and he pressed his forehead against the glass of the frame and shut his eyes. He hadn’t done what was best for you, too concerned about everything else and assuming how you would react, and only now did he realise he had done so, too late to make amends.

[artsninspo]

NerdBae - Part III

Tre smiles seeing all the girls in his home in the living room like it’s a beauty parlour. He’d missed it more than anything. There was a time when they were all they had in the world. His dad hadn’t been in his life much. His mom had struggled. He’d tried to help out when he could. Then Gina and Elle had become friends and she spent so many days at their house. Then Nina his mom and Jo, Elles mom got close. They were their own little village, thick as thieves.

“I have a surprise for you ladies” he charms getting a loving look from his mother.

“I hope mine is the nicest big brother” Gina chimes and Tre hands each of them a letter addressed to them. They all open them in silence and Elles eyes are the first to his in shock before the screaming starts from Gina.

“Baby, I cant take this” his mother says with a trembling hand and a lightening heart beat.

“Yes mom you can” he reasons.

“Tre, you might need this” Jo adds.

“I don’t and there’s not a single lie there on that paper” he explains causing the mothers to blink in disbelief.

“Thank you” Gina squeals squeezing him tight.

“You’re welcome” he kisses his sisters cheek happy to see her happy.

“A hundred grand a year after taxes for being family, shit Tre!” Gina smiles jumping for joy.

“Just accept it, you’ve worked hard enough momma and momma Joe. I’m in a position to help now - let me.” Tre explains too good to be true.

“What about when you want to start your own family, you’re going to need” the selfless women continue.

“Mom, haven’t I always been dependable? Trust me when I say this is safe, it’s fully legal, it’s not even fully what you deserve but I won’t accept any of you not accepting it” Tre puts his foot down. Elle sits in utter shock still unable to move.

“Baby” his mother says and the water works start from both of them - years worth of weights off of their shoulders. He tries staying strong as they hug him but the tears fall. They didn’t have to do anything anymore, except for live their life and answer his phone calls to make 100k after taxes each year.  Everyone’s dream job and a long time coming for the mothers that did everything to be there for heir kids. They’d become best friends through their daughters and had been the only people to make him feel like he was good enough.

The hysteria dies and Jo looks at Elle holding the letter with shock still in her eyes - the only person who hadn’t shed a tear.

“Tre” she sighs having read the letter through. There were other perks, other ridiculously thoughtful perks.

“If I start crying, it’ll be very ugly” she swallows feeling overwhelmed and emotional but the tears roll in like a storm as she walks into his arms genuinely appreciative. She’d always been a sweetheart. She wanted nothing more than to unburden her mother and herself and Tre just swoops in with pure intentions to save the day. It turns into a group hug and seeing them happy makes him feel like he’s won the Nobel piece prize.

————

Jo had always been an early riser, she never had a son but she loved Tre like he was her own. He was shy and introverted but he loved talking the load off. They bonded over making breakfast.

“Morning Angel” she smiles and he gives her a coffee starting on his morning smoothie before smelling one of her world famous omelette.

“Morning Ma, you don’t have to” he smiles.

“You’re still my angel and I’m here - so I might as well” she justifies handing him the plate. There’s nothing for him to do but smile accept the dish. “You got Ellie to show emotion, she’s been pretty distant and bogged up lately” Jo comments.

“You know she loves you”

“I was too hard on her” Jo reasons.

“She’s strong, she can take care of herself, she’s doing well” Tre reasons hoping to ease Jo’s worry. The kids never told their mothers their dilemmas or pains. They’d always been their emotional support team.

“She loved that boy a lot, I just can’t imagine him not breaking her heart. I know he did and none of us got to be there for her through it” Jo shrugs feeling guilty. “I wish she liked good men, kind men, men like you Tre” Jo says scrambling the eggs and starting on French toast making the six burner stove her bitch.

“She’s here with us again, as far as I can tell she’s good, all we have to do is love her. She loves us.” Tre says sitting to eat.

“And we love you kiddo” Jo smiles. “Need me to iron your shirt and tie for the party tonight?”

“Ma I’m good” Tre kisses her cheek.

———

It took the village, the mothers had got Elle into her gown, perfected her elegant hairstyle and Gina and Elle co created her make up look. It felt like too much when she looked in the mirror seeing nothing less than the glamour of a sixties starlet.

“Don’t let any of those sleazy bozos touch my best friend, disrespect by best friend or make her have to put the pause on pretty to defend you okay” Gina instructs Tre running the lint roller down his suit one last time.

“No ones doing anything to Elle” he tells Gina wearing a serious expression and making his sister smirk.

“Make it count Tre, who knows what could happen? Besides I’m sure if your first crush is beloved by your family, cleans up nice and takes care of you; that adds brownie points” Gina says casually getting a grimace. Elle wasn’t Tre’s first crush. He loved her growing up and thought she was sweet.

“We both know my first crush-‘

“Sometimes you’re very stupid” Gina huffs adjusting his tie clip. “Go on you’re going to be late.

Elle smiles looking Tre over as he gets into the car taking them to the event. “You look spiffy” she compliments as he looks her over.

“You look perfect” he compliments honestly.

“Thanks, don’t make my head bigger” Elle laughs

Casual conversation sustains the car ride there before they walk out hand in hand to the busy event hall. People were everywhere coupled with suggestively dressed servers and the whole nine yards. What overwhelmed Elle even more was how much everyone seemed to like and respect Tre. Husbands and their wives wore genuine smiles inviting them to dinner telling stories that absolutely sounded like him. How he’d swooped in and saved them stress, time and money by helping them solve a problem. Elle watched as he worked the floor expertly, she saw the longing looks from other women and watched people throw themselves in-front of him to make their elevator pitches.

“Who’s this beauty” a man says coming up casually.

“Don’t even look at her like that Rob, this is Elle” Tre mutters making the mans eyes widen.

“You didn’t say she was a smokestack” Rob says candidly making Elle smile as Tre pulls out her seat to begin the dinner and innovation ceremony.

“Elle this is rob my best friend, Rob this is Elle”

“Pleasure” Rob smiles looking her over with unspoken words in his eyes, before looking up at his friend.

The night goes extremely well even when they come across the three guys from the mall. Their company is powerful but they’re the minority in terms of people who are assholes to Tre. He helps Elle into the limo only to be socked in his shoulder the moment he’s buckled in.

“Ouch, Elle what was that for?” He holds the assaulted region, concern in his eyes.

“For playing me like a fool Tre” Elle smiles annoyed and amused. “You didn’t need me there everyone loves you there. You let me believe they were jealous bullies when they’re jealous cause your the man to be” Elle huffs shaking her head pleasantly surprised.

“So you hit me?” Tre asks.

“Yes!” Elle chuckles folding her arms still a little shocked. “Honestly can’t take you and all your surprises” she admits making him smile. He takes her chin like he had time and time again all night placing a respectful kiss on her cheek. He pulls back to look at her and it feels like theres a force keeping them together before they both smile at the same time embracing each other.

“I’m sorry for keeping things from you, I just wanted to make the most of the situation”

“You’re forgiven but I’m done giving you all the compliments and all that because I see you know you’re that guy - still you allow everyone to act like you’re timid. Especially Gina” Elle reasons making Tre laugh.

“I get insecure like everyone else Ellie and I don’t do anything for Gina that I don’t want to do, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t like conflict and nothing makes me happier than seeing you all happy.” He admits honestly .

Tre was genuinely taken a back by Elles decorum. She looked like a million bucks and definitely belonged in another age with her glamorous charm that almost felt old Hollywood with her full figure and million dollar smile. He’d never seen her be so soft.  It wasn’t that she was hard but there was never an instance where she wasn’t a strong and assertive woman that stood her ground and now she was the complete opposite silencing all his critics and competitors with her charm. He’d been told several time by elder veterans in the field to lock her down with a ring in only an hour at the party.

“Thank you for coming and making me look good”

“No problem sweetie” Elle teases making him smile before tickling him playfully.

“Behave” he laughs finally able to restrain her gently.

“Okay” she concedes.

“We haven’t really talked about how you been, you and your mom have been a little awkward” Tre reasons.

“You mean about Cam and I ending? That was a year ago now”

“No one knows what happened”

“Gina does”

“Yeah but you have blood pacts” he exaggerates.

“We’re having a good night Cameron is the last person I want to talk about. Its humiliating” Elle admits.

“You should know you don’t have to hide anything from me” he says and Elle sighs pulling away from him.

“I thought Cam and I were good, he had this new concept a love storyboard in eleven pieces. It came with an accompanying poetry book with a painting on one page and its poem beside it. He was sleeping with his child’s mother still, and it was all about her and I was just there to get his career off the ground and his artistic muse but not his inspiration.” Elle sighs shaking her head. “I embarrassed myself with a ver bad reaction and spent the night in jail. He didn’t press charges and I’ve moved on” Elle shrugs.

“Cant imagine a man sleeping around on you?” Tre says. “I’m sorry that happened”

“Could’ve been worse Tre. Had I have been really in love with him - who knows what would’ve happened. He wrote a letter after he realized I wouldn’t talk to him. He said he did it to provoke me and because I wasn’t doing what a woman should in a relationship” Elle smiles.

Tre swallows in shock, it’s not what he expected. Not at all. He’d met Cameron and didn’t like him but he didn’t think he’d be stupid ugh to mistreat a women like Elle.

“I’m sorry he hurt you” he says making Elle smile.

“He wasn’t enough of a man for you anyways. You deserve much better” Tre affirms making Elle smile. “You should go for guys like me, until you’re ready for that stay single. You’ve been through enough - these muscles might come with higher testosterone would you want me getting my ass kicked for defending you?” He asks making her laugh.

“Even if a lion hasn’t killed in the wild before, it’s still a lion with all its programming. There’s a reason you weren’t getting beat up and you’re good at football - that’s why people don’t play with you” Elle explains honestly leaning back on his shoulder.

“Forget the five star restaurant let’s go home, get moms and Gina and lets go bowling like one times. As a family” Elle suggests.

“Nah, you’re still my girlfriend for the next few hours” Tre says chuckling a little. “Besides you gotta talk to your momma when you get back so you need the liquid courage.”

A/N: Hows NerdBae doing? Are we impressed? Are we surprised? And it seems like everyone is rooting for them, do we think he’s gonna get the girl?

_________

@bugngiz @lifelover4u @l-auteuse  @notsomellowmushroom @princessasaani @heavensangelxo @bakarilennox  

@tastingmellow @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @jad3djay @thickemadame @doublesidedscoobysnacks @aanairb @hooliemooliedonutshawp

@quietstorm-73 @thememoireeofme @tip222u @amelatonin @cherrystainedlipsbaby @keiva1000 @highlifeflylife

@queenflaws @uzumaki-rebellion @cutewylie @twistedcharismaaa @xo-goldengirl @lostennyc

[too-many-baes]

Daisy Chains & Grassy Plains

Pairing: fem!reader x Peter Maximoff

Warning(s): you're going to need a lint roller from how fluffy this thing is

Word Count: 1.7K

Request: “babe, can i please request a peter maximoff imagine? he and his girl go to a park for their anniversary and have a cute picnic, lots of fluff and flowers and sandwiches and maybe getting involved in playing with some little kids, things on that level of cuteness!!! and how pretty would peter be with some flowers in his hair!!!” – by Anon

A/N: This was such a sweet request and I absolutely loved writing it, thank you so much anon for giving me this wee gem 💎 I totally agree, he would be a dream with some flowers in his hair  💐

Masterlist     Requests Open

                                                      *********

“Where are we going Peter?” You question as you yet again stumble on something you can't see past Peter's hands covering your eyes.

“We're nearly there, quit complaining.” He says in jest, that cheeky lilt to his voice making an even larger goofy grin form on your face.

“Okay”, he proclaims after several more near misses and minor collisions, “are you ready?” He whispers out of excitement, to which you nod, eager to see why you had to be blinded.

He starts a countdown from three. After you nudge him for doing the countdown from one in halves and quarters your blindfold is removed. The sudden change in dark to light makes you raise your hand to shield your eyes until they can adjust. When they do you gasp at what is before you.

You're at the park a wee ways drive from X-mansion, the one with the duck pond you and Peter frequent as often as you can. Under your favourite old willow tree Peter has laid out a red flannel picnic blanket, champagne flutes and a light woven picnic basket rests atop it.

“Happy one year.” He can barely contain the excitement at your joy from his voice, his breath fanning over your neck from his position behind you. You spin around to face him, an incredulous look on your face.

“You remembered?”, your gushing question earns a nod in response before you continue, “And you set this all up yourself?” You turn to look at the picturesque date set up before you once more.

“Yes I set it up, give me a little credit would ya?” You cling to his side, giggling and exclaiming that's not how you'd meant it as he playfully rolls his eyes and leads you to sit on the blanket.

From within the basket he pulls some pre-made club sandwiches and a bottle of champagne, making you squeal as he opens it, sending the top flying into the distance.

You eat from paper plates, nearly spilling the entire contents of your flute as he attempts to link arms with you and drink in unison. Peter didn't fare as well as you from that endeavour, your shaking arm from laughter causing champagne to splash on the front of his shirt. You worry and fuss, trying to dab at it, but he pays no mind, not caring in the slightest about the state of his shirt.

You pack up what little remains of lunch and set it aside, lying side by side, admiring how the streaks of light breaking through the heavy branches above fall across his face. As you keep your eyes on the silver haired man a stray daisy above his head sparks an idea.

You flip onto your stomach, plucking flower after flower as you pierce openings in the stems and loop them together.

“What are you doing?” Peter queries when he peeks his eye open at the movement beside him.

“Making a daisy chain. Wanna join?” He shrugs, flipping over to mirror your current posture. You demonstrate the method a couple of times before he attempts to start his own chain. Many flowers get tossed over his shoulder as his overzealous attempts to create holes caused their stems to completely split. You look to see the discard pile behind him could potentially be bigger than his actual chain. Not that you'd tell him that, the strange determination he'd gained earning your constant motivating compliments.

Once you’re satisfied with the length you'd both amassed you suggest joining the chains into a large circle, to which Peter eagerly agrees. You link both ends together, realising the circular chain was now big enough to be folded and made into a double-layered flower crown. He makes no attempt to dissuade you from placing it upon his head, the white, yellow and green in contrast with his soft silvery locks. He feigns disinterest momentarily as you take out your phone to snap some photos before he leaps to his feet, posing and pouting so much you have to clutch your sides to ease the ache your laughter causes. He goes to where you lay in fits of giggles, snatching your phone and pressing close enough against you to so that you’re both enough in the frame that he can take photos of you both.

Your laughter momentarily stops as a soccer ball flies in your direction, bouncing off the grand oak to land at Peter's side.

“I'm sorry", you hear as you glance up to see four children running from the flat plain just before you, “someone doesn't know how to aim.” The young boy says pointedly to a smaller boy, making the aforementioned let out a disapproving whine in protest. Peter stands, soccer ball in hand.

“Is there only four of you?” He innocently questions, not yet relinquishing his hold on the black and white ball.

“Yes”, the only girl of the group answers, seemingly confused at the older man's question.

“Do you want a couple more players?” The childish grin on his face leaves the previously unknown group no choice but to agree, Peter clenching his fist and shaking it in celebration before extending the hand not holding the ball to you, yanking you unceremoniously to your feet.

You run to the open field, splitting up the team’s so you, the girl and one of the boys were facing off against Peter and the other children.

“Why do you have flowers in your hair?” The boy on your team asks as Peter places the ball on the grass in-between your teams.

“Because daisies are badass, that's why", Peter says in defence of himself, you nodding your head at the quizzical young boy in agreement with your boyfriend.

“I think it looks nice", the girl pipes up. Peter dramatically thanks her to prove a point as he backs up to join his team, clapping his hands together and rubbing them vigorously back and forth.

“Right, we doing this thing or what?”

You play for half an hour, the score tying up as you agree next goal wins the whole game. Peter called his team together, them joining in a linked huddle to avoid you hearing their scheming.

“Do we need a huddle?” The boy beside you questions, you shaking your head in response.

“Nope, we've just gotta get the ball between those trees and we got this.” You hold out your hand, the other two joining as you do an impromptu chant before breaking up as Peter's team disperses.

“Are you ready to be destroyed?” He asks rhetorically in a bravado that pulls a laugh from your throat as you wiggle both sets of your fingers in a come hither motion.

“Bring it on Maximoff.”

Your team charges for the ball, a well aimed kick leaving it at your feet. You dribble it across the field, nearing the goal of two small trees with victory in your view. As you pull your leg back to punt the winning goal your feet leave the ground in unison as Peter grabs you from behind and lifts you into the air.

“Go boys!” He yells as his team steals the ball, passing it back and forth down the grass as you squirm to escape your captor.

“That's cheating Peter!” You yell playfully, letting out an involuntary yelp as he throws you over his shoulder when his team scores their winning goal, running around in victory with you in his grip.

You yell out as he begins spinning around, making you kick your feet and playfully smack his back. He relents and removes you from his shoulder but not his grasp, gripping your sides and tickling them, sending you to the ground below with him in tow as you beg through your glee filled laughs to resist his onslaught.

“Not until you admit how amazing our team was.”

“You wouldn't have won if you hadn’t been colluding!” You manage to get out between giggles. You too make an attempt to tickle him, but he grabs your hands and holds them down on the ground above your head, his face hovering inches above yours.

“I guess a kiss could persuade me to stop.” He whispers, inching slowly closer as he does. You lean up as if to oblige before catching him off guard and flipping him over, trapping him beneath you as you begin your own tickling tirade.

“You fool, you fell for the oldest trick in the book”, you brag as he laughs. He reaches out to grab you but you would not let yourself be caught again. You leap away from him, running off down the field as he wastes no time in jolting up and giving chase.

You jump and hide behind trees, running around them as he continues his pursuit, your bubbling laugh heard by all around.

After your legs were as sore as your sides and the sun’s rays began to fade behind the hill you reluctantly fold the blanket and gather the basket, walking hand in hand with Peter back to your waiting car. You load up the boot before catching Peter's forearm, stopping him from entering the driver's seat.

“Thank you for today Peter. It was perfect", you say with sincerity, making a smile form on his face before he places a tender peck on your lips.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary", you repeat back before rounding the car and entering the passenger's side, buckling your belt as Peter pulls out of his park.

“You know babe those flowers are pretty much dead", you point out as you notice the once full petals were now drooping, the green stalks now tinged a sad shade of brown from their position still on his head.

“I don't care, I'll wear them till they're dead", he says in defiance.

Little did you know once you'd returned home and gone to shower Peter had used his privacy to delicately remove the double-layered crown from his head, pulling one of the only books from his shelf and pressing the flowers in its pages, hoping the small act would set them so he could remember your first anniversary with that small token. 

In fact, he hoped there’d be many more tokens to come, from many more anniversaries.

                                                     ************

Taglist

@evanpeters-petermaximoff​

[starculler]

One Step At A Time

Not much about werewolves here, but it’s some dadzawa fluff set in that AU so here you go! || Read on AO3

Shouta watched Izuku bounce, hands and nose pressed to the fogged glass as he peered out the window to the snow falling outside. A small, reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he settled himself more comfortably into his couch. Izuku’s constant excitement at the smallest things pulled at the spec of warm fondness in his chest that had been steadily growing since he’d taken the kid in. It was unnerving when he thought about it － how quickly he’d taken to the kid, even if he wasn’t always the best at expressing it. He’d always imagined himself as someone solitary. Alone. Unattached except for the thread Hizashi had so stubbornly maintained between them after… Well. Needless, to say, it came as a surprise when he’d offered to foster the kid he’d found.

His eyes strayed to the low coffee table then, papers and pen a mess scattered across the surface next to a now-cold mug of coffee. Every form was neatly filled in and every word had been meticulously read over by both Hizashi and himself. The urge to pick them up and scan them over again gripped him, but went, ultimately, ignored with a huff. It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing to fuss over. The adoption papers were merely a logical step in cementing a cover for the kid, and the tight bundle of nerves fluttering around in his stomach were a ridiculous reaction.

“Shou! Shou, look!” Shouta glanced back up at the kid, and arched a brow in silent question as Izuku beckoned him over. “Zashi’s back,” he announced with a little hop away from the window.

“Oh? He’s early,” Aizawa said as he stood, striding over to look where Izuku pointed.

Hizashi’s bright, blond hair was easy to see even in the dark and among the quickly falling flurries. They watched him make his way down the snow-laden sidewalk and up to the apartment’s main door, slipping once or twice where his foot caught on a patch of ice. Izuku was quick to the door, a burst of excited energy that nearly sent him tumbling into the tiny kitchen as his socks made him slide as he tried to turn. By the time Shouta came up behind him, the first lock had been opened and Izuku was balanced on the tips of his toes in a futile attempt to reach the remaining three nearer the top of the door.

“Alright, slow down there,” he said, placing a hand on Izuku’s curls to ruffle them. “What’s the rule?” Izuku frowned, keeping one hand on the door’s handle as he half-turned to face Shouta.

“No ice cream before dinner.” Shouta stared at the kid, unimpressed, and waited until he began to fidget in place. Izuku sighed, deep and put-upon, and said, “Look before opening. But I’m too short!” Izuku pouted and Shouta had to swallow his laughter.

“I thought you didn’t want to be the one who looks.” Izuku folded his arms over his chest, face pinched in an expression of utmost seriousness.

“I get to look when it’s Zashi,” said Izuku in a tone that brooked no arguments.

“Guess you’d better get a chair so you can reach, then.”

Shouta stepped aside as Izuku zipped past, and calmly unlatched the last three locks － two sliding and one chain, an extra measure alongside the door’s included deadbolt lock to appease his paranoia. He checked through the peephole briefly as Izuku dragged one of their three chairs around the corner and toward the door. Taking pity on the kid, Shouta picked it up as soon as it was within reach and set it down in front of the door, keeping a careful eye on him as he scrambled up it to look through the peephole. Shouta counted nearly two minutes before he heard the distant, muted ding of the elevator and another thirty seconds before Izuku jumped, nearly toppling off his perch from excitement.

It was quick and easy work to scoop Izuku up in one arm － a brief flash of anger burning in his chest because he was still so small, smaller than a ten year old should be － and used his other to grab the chair and pull it back and away from the door. Izuku wriggled in his grip, tucked under his arm like a living sack, so Shouta made sure to go extra slow as he dragged the chair back into its proper place.

“You’re too slow!” Izuku griped, flailing as he tried to slip free. “Shou!”

An elbow to the stomach finally forced him to let go with a reflexive wheeze. Immediately, Izuku belted the short distance the door and yanked it open with as much force as he could muster while Shouta followed behind at a more sedate pace. Hizashi, however, was content to match Izuku’s energy as soon as the kid had all but thrown himself at Hizashi’s legs.

“Hey, little listener!” Hizashi said as he picked Izuku up and spun him around twice before setting him down. “You were waiting for me, huh?”

Izuku giggled, still clinging to Hizashi’s winter coat as he nodded and said, “Yeah! I looked too. And we saw you through the window.”

Hizashi hummed an acknowledgement, stepping into the apartment as Izuku zipped through topics, detailing as much as he could about his day so quickly that his words seemed to slur together. The door was closed and locked, his jacket hung and boots peeled off by the time Shouta decided to intervene by snaking an arm around the kid’s waist and hoisting him up. Izuku squeaked as he was lifted, but his protests died the minute Hizashi, grinning, leaned in to press a kiss on Shouta’s lips.

A pleasant, almost spicy scent tickled Shouta’s nose as he lingered there. He took a moment to nuzzle Hizashi’s cheek with a gruff huff, wanting, for a moment, nothing more than to pile Hizashi on the couch and warm up the icy chill clinging to his skin. 

“Gross,” Izuku said, turned toward them despite being pinned to Shouta’s side, scrunching his face up like he’d tasted something sour.

“What? This?” Hizashi’s lips curled in a mischievous smile before he placed a kiss to Shouta’s cheek. “Or this?”

A kiss to the tip of Shouta’s nose drew a groan from the kid. Hizashi laughed, plucking Izuku from Shouta’s grip, and pressed a light kiss to the top of the kid’s head. Izuku, in response, pushed at Hizashi’s face with a sound like a dying animal. Shouta rolled his eyes at the dramatics, knowing good and well that Izuku craved any sort of attention either of them could give － and again he felt that flickering ember of anger flare to life, though he did his best to smother it so he didn’t dampen the mood. It was Izuku’s first real good day after a string of nightmares and sleepless nights and too many tears, and he’d be dammed if he was the reason it was spoiled.

“Alright,” he said, pulling Hizashi and Izuku’s attention to him, “dinner first and then you and Hizashi can play ‘til it’s time for him to go.”

Shouta pointedly ignored Izuku’s pout, reaching past the kid to the plastic bag hanging off Hizashi’s arm. He led the way to the kitchen, not quite listening to Hizashi reassuring the kid that he’d be back from the radio station by the time he woke up in the morning. Instead, he poured his attention into checking the bag’s contents. Two boxes of black hair dye for Izuku who’s green roots had started to noticeably show, more eye drops for him, a few new lint rollers, and too many of Izuku’s favorite sweets. He rolled his eyes, setting the bag aside as the other two went ahead of him into the kitchen.

Cooking was a simple and quick affair with Hizashi, in a gaudy apron, as the main cook while Izuku and Shouta helped, both in their own horrible, Hizashi-approved aprons. They took turns supervising the kid as he switched his attention from Hizashi over the stove to Shouta chopping vegetables. Eventually, though, the beef stew was ready and served － all three of them seated at the tiny, round table tucked between their kitchen and living space. An hour passed between eating, light conversation, and picking up and washing the dishes with Izuku and Hizashi as the designated dish dryers.

“All right kiddo,” Hizashi said once the last bowl had been put away. “What do you wanna do tonight? It’s your turn to pick.”

Shouta leaned back against the counter, close to the still vaguely warm stove-top, with his shoulder pressed up against Hizashi’s as they watched the kid. This was one of the little traditions they’d started early on to help Izuku open up and ask for things, a sort of activity-picking wheel where they took turns picking what to do. Usually, he and Hizashi tended to pick things they knew the kid would like: movies, board games, watching hero videos online. It was, admittedly, nice. Almost like the quiet date nights when neither of them had to work and they’d stay in, sitting on the couch. The only difference now was that there was usually a rambunctious, tiny ten year old sitting on there with them.

He frowned, though, when a minute passed and still Izuku remained silent, shuffling his feet against the kitchen’s tile. He and Hizashi shared a glance before he sighed, shifting slightly in place.

“What’s up, kid? Nothing you want to do tonight?” Izuku looked at him from behind his bangs, long enough now that they fell into his eyes. They’d have to schedule a haircut for him soon.

“I,” Izuku started before trailing off, catching his lower lip between his teeth in a familiar show of anxiety. They waited, letting the kid take his time before, finally, he spoke albeit with a timid tremor in his voice. “I wanna play in the snow. Like. Like I used to.” he said, faltering a little on the last word.

Hizashi glanced at Shouta with a small frown. It wasn’t that it was some impossible feat that couldn’t be done. Shouta’s apartment was a small, quiet place. A well-kept secret in an out of the way and unassuming neighborhood. Going out wasn’t much of an issue in and of itself － they’d gone out together a few times already, though, admittedly, not many. A few doctor’s appointments. Weekly visits to a therapist. The initial trip to the precinct a week after finding the kid, hearing his story, and coordinating with Hizashi to make sure there was no on-record mention of werewolves anywhere in the kid’s statement. But, so far, never anything for pleasure. No outings just for the sake of leaving the apartment.

Usually, Izuku was too nervous, backing out at the last minute for fear that somehow, someway, his kidnapper would find him again. Other times it was at Shouta’s insistence. Nights when something in the air set him on edge, some intrinsic instinct to protect the kid －his kid, his pack － from some unperceived danger lurking nearby. Those were usually nights he had Hizashi up to watch the apartment while he stole out of the building to patrol. Tonight, though, had been quiet. Peaceful. Plus, he doubted there would be many people out and about in the area this late at night. They couldn’t keep the kid cooped up in the apartment forever, after all.

“Alright,” he said and almost smiled at the wide-eyed astonishment on Izuku’s face.

“Really?” Izuku teetered closer, grabbing and pulling at the hem of Shouta’s sweater.

The kid cheered when he nodded, and all but ran out of the kitchen in his excitement. Hizashi laughed, calling out a list of winter gear for him to put on before being allowed out. Izuku ambled out some ten minutes later dressed head to toe in the plushest, warmest, hero-themed clothes he’d managed to dig out of the recesses of his dresser’s drawers. Hizashi smothered a laugh behind his hand and even Shouta found himself struggling to stay straight faced.

Izuku had pulled on a bright green plaid shirt on top of the mostly plain, cat-patterned shirt he’d been wearing, and laid a sweater with an oversized print of All Might’s annoyingly bright, grinning face plastered on the chest over top. His hat and mittens were both bright yellow, sporting the logo for Put Your Hands Up Radio, while the scarf piled messily about his neck and shoulders was a hand-knit light gray meant to mimic Shouta’s capture weapon. His black pants were almost normal, if not for the large, white Ingenium printed along the legs’ sides while his socks sported a pattern of tiny, stretched pictures of Present Mic’s face.

“Perfect!” Hizashi exclaimed, flashing a thumbs up at the kid and grinning his flashiest Present Mic grin.

Shouta rolled his eyes, instantly regretting letting Hizashi anywhere near Izuku’s wardrobe, but nodded when Izuku turned bright, hopeful, green eyes in his direction. Honestly, who was he to argue bad fashion choices? Plus, it made the kid happy. That was really all he could ask for at this point.

“Ready?” Izuku nodded, hopping in place a few times before scurrying after both adults as they moved to put on their own coats and winter gear. “Alright,” Shouta began as he carefully undid each latch and lock on the door once more, “rules.” Izuku huffed from behind him, but recited them dutifully.

“Stay close,” he said, ticking it off on one small, oddly bent finger. “Don’t talk to strangers. Do everything you or Zashi say in an emergency.” He tripped over the word “emergency,” but plowed on regardless of the fumble. “No talking about wolves. And if anyone asks, Shou’s our dog.” Shouta frowned at Hizashi and the kid, rolling his eyes when they fell into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, alright. Out,” he grumbled, yanking the door open with a little more force than strictly necessary.

Hizashi and Izuku’s laughter followed them out the door and down the hall after Shouta had locked the apartment behind them. He feigned irritation, grumbling at the pair all the way down the stairs and out the door until Izuku’s breath caught, inhaling sharply at the seemingly endless stretch of powdery snow across the street. Shouta watched the kid tremble in place, face tucking into his scarf at the scene and felt something in his chest pull loose.

Without a word, he scooped Izuku up, foggy breath mixing with the kid’s shallower puffs, and tipped his head forehead enough that their noses brushed. He wasn’t much for physical affection lie that, and had been less so when he’d first found Izuku, but the way the kid’s eyes lit up in response made him want to try a little harder. Do it a little more often, if only to see that too-bright smile on his face.

“You good?” he asked, voice pitched low and soothing and serious, and waited. “Nervous or overwhelmed?” he prompted when Izuku didn’t answer. When the only response he got was a nod, Shouta hoisted the kid up a little higher on his hip and smiled his least terrifying smile. “That’s all right. We can just stand here for now, and when you’re ready we’ll bury Hizashi in snow. Sound good?”

Izuku giggled, hiding his face in Shouta’s hair while Hizashi slipped his hand in his. They stood there for a while. Watching the snow fall. Waiting. Warm, despite the winter chill in the air.

In the morning, Shouta decided then, he’d file those papers.

[empyrealix]

We have a cat? [Kylo Ren x fem!reader]

Summary: The reader watches over Millicent, Hux’s cat. Kylo is really great with cats, apparently. Fluff ensues when Hux leaves. (ah, yes, hi, I suck at summaries, nice to meet you)

Pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader

Characters: Kylo Ren, General A. Hux, reader and Millicent

Words: 1 649

Warnings: Technically it contains The Last Jedi spoilers, other than that, none.

 A/N: The characters might be characterised wrongly, sorry if that is the case. Also, titles are not my strong suit, as is evident...

0700. The watch on her nightstand rang, she groaned, turning around. She didn’t expect to be met with anything since her boyfriend woke up at the crack of dawn. She yelped in surprise. A cat, she was met with an orange cat. The cat was laying on Kylo’s pillow, and she chuckled to herself. Thinking about how upset he was going to be at having General Hux’s cat sleep on his pillow. She flung her legs off the bed and stood up, the hairs on her legs standing up as she was met with the cold floor. 

“I’m going to take a shower, Millie. Don’t go anywhere,” She scratched the cat behind its ear, Millicent purred in content. 

On top of the set of drawers, there was a piece of cremé paper. She creased her eyebrows, wondering why it was there. Everything else in the room was pristine, not one thing was out of order, except for the cremé paper. It didn’t belong there, she grasped it with the intention of throwing it away when she caught sight of Hux’s neat script.

y/n,

I dropped my feline off for you to take care of, as we agreed upon yesterday. I will be here at 1800 to pick her up.

General A. Hux

She shook her head at the General’s constant formality, looking back at Millicent. Silently asking the cat to behave as she stepped into the shower. The feline continued to sleep, paying no mind to anything. The warm water washed over her body, dripping from her fingertips as steam rose to the ceiling. 

The moment she exited the shower, Millicent started meowing and clawing at the closed bathroom door. She barely opened it to glare at the cat for disrupting her quiet morning. The moment Millicent grabbed y/n’s attention she waltzed off towards the kitchen.

“She’s hungry,” y/n muttered to herself, quickly drying off and getting dressed in a pair of black trousers and a black shirt. 

Hux had been so kind as to bring some of Millicent’s food, and so she pulled out a glass bowl from a cupboard above the stovetop, pouring some food into the bowl and placing it on the floor. The cat rubbed against her legs in thanks. 

y/n unplugged her datapad to answer messages from her colleagues, three were wondering where the scalpels were kept. While others wondered if she’d be coming into work this morning. She rolled her eyes at the scalpel-messages, shooting Millicent a look. 

The feline seemed content enough, eating the food y/n had put out for her. Once she was done, she wandered over to the couch, jumped on it and laid down, soft sounds leaving the cat. 

                                                                                 ───

She must’ve dozed off, since the next thing she knew Kylo was sitting on the floor playing with Millicent. She turned, a smile stretching across her features. He looked at her, a soft smile dancing on his lips. It was a sight no one except her got to see, and every time it happened butterflies danced in her stomach. 

“Hello, darling,” His voice was soft, it was like a wind blew through the room, carrying his voice with it. She smiled, her way of greeting him. Kylo looked at the cat who was currently curled up on his lap.

“I didn’t know we had a cat,” It was joking. She shrugged.

“We don’t.” Her voice came out groggy. Kylo’s focus shifted from the cat to her, as he cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s Hux’s cat. He asked me to watch her for him while he was at work today,” Kylo didn’t look surprised, as she figured he would. He simply nodded his head.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Kylo’s eyes were staring into hers, his hand running over the cat’s fur absentmindedly.

“I’m not. I knew about Hux’s cat, though not entirely following protocol,” She gawked at him, her eyes wide and full of surprise.

“And you let him have Millicent?” Kylo nodded his head.

“He didn’t really give me a choice,” His eyebrows quirked, and he opened his mouth.  

“He called her Millicent?” y/n nodded her head, or she did as best as he could while laying on her side. She glanced at the clock on the wall, 1755, her eyes widened, she didn’t realise that time had passed by so fast. She shot up from the sofa, quickly tying her hair into a ponytail. She poured the remnants of Millicent’s food into a box and collected her toys. Kylo’s eyes following her, making sure that she didn’t harm herself. Not because he was possessive of her, but because she was quite clumsy.  

At exactly 1800, there was a knock. She pressed in the code to open the door. Hux stood outside, his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared. His lips were pulled into a scowl, as they almost always were. His hair was tousled, and he had bags under his eyes. The General looked tired, more tired than he’d looked in months.

“Good evening, y/l/n. I’m here to pick up my feline,” His voice was flat, rid of any emotion. She nodded, stepping to the side, allowing Hux view into the living area. The same living room that Kylo was currently sitting in, cuddling Millicent. The cat purred as Kylo scratched behind her ear. General Hux coughed, drawing both Millicent’s attention towards him as well as Kylo’s. 

Kylo swiftly brushed the cat off his lap and stood up. Ginger cat hair clung to his robes as if he were a lint roller. Hux bowed his head, tough Kylo was the first one of them to speak up.

“General,” He said, Hux quickly followed with, ‘supreme leader,’. They glared at each other, battling for dominance. Until she cleared her throat, causing both men to snap their eyes to her. 

“Your cat, General?” Her eyes moving from place to place.

“Yes, as stated earlier I’m here to pick up Millicent,” All this said without as much as casting a glance at Kylo. Kylo, on the contrary, threw sour looks at Hux every few seconds. He didn’t like the ginger General, and he made no effort to hide it. y/n handed Hux the container of food, and the toys he’d brought. His cat walking around Kylo’s legs in circles, not responding when Hux called for her. y/n snickered silently to herself at Hux’s grouchy face, he looked as if he’d just swallowed something unpleasant or as if someone had disobeyed his orders. Hux, himself, despised the supreme leader, and being around him during the day was bad enough, and he’d be damned if he let Ren take his cat from him. She sat down and beckoned the cat towards her, the cat happily walking over. y/n scratched Millicent’s chin, her eyes lighting up in joy. Kylo’s eyes softened, it was barely noticeable, the corners of his mouth almost turning upwards into a smile. He couldn’t allow himself to show emotions in front of Hux, in fear that he’d use it against him some time. Hux coughed, it was barely audible, but it was a sound. y/n’s head snapped toward Hux, and with a raised eyebrow, he pointed to his cat.

“My feline?” Hux sent her a pointed look, she smiled sheepishly at him and handed him his cat. Hux nodded at Kylo, then her. The door closed behind him with a hiss, as it did, y/n sunk down onto the floor. Kylo took two long steps and slid down on the floor beside her. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She turned her face upwards, kissing his jaw softly. She felt his lips stretch into a smile, her own doing the same. Kylo captured her chin between his fingers, his face turning downwards to meet hers, their lips collided. The kiss was pure, innocent, filled with love and compassion. It was like daisies, and the first days of spring when the snow started to melt and when the earth woke up again after being dormant for so long. They pulled away from each other, their breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps. y/n’s lips turned up into a smile, a rosy red dusting her cheeks. Kylo followed suit with the smile. His hair was messed up, it looked like someone had run their hands through it, which was exactly what had happened. The metal door caused them to shiver lightly, the cold of the metal contrasting with their warm bodies. She smiled as she reached a hand up to his hairline. He ever so slightly winced as she pulled on his hair, her face holding an expression of love and adoration. A lone red hair dangled from her fingertips, and she giggled at Kylo’s bewildered expression. 

“Cat hair?” His voice was tinged with surprise, he knew he had cat hair all over his robes, but it was unexpected that it would be in his hair. She nodded her head, amusement clearly evident in her eyes as well as her smile.

“Millicent’s, I’d presume,” She let a laugh roll past her lips, her laughter was beautiful, full of life and hope. Her eyes shone with happiness, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She dropped the cat hair and it fell to the ground, affected by the gravity on the ship as all else was. Kylo soon joined in on her laughter, if someone walked past their quarters, he was sure they’d never look at him the same.

They were laughing over ginger cat hair, their eyes holding none of the worries of the day or of the Resistance. The laughter subdued, their eyes still shining with joy.

“You should wear it to work sometime, it suits you,” Her voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement, Kylo shook his head smiling fondly at his girlfriend.

[ninzied]

in which karen becomes a reluctant cat owner. in a post-dds3 world with spoilers for tps2. written for kastle valentine 2019.

It wakes her up in the middle of the night.

She’d been dreaming of Fisk again – the cold hate in his eyes as he towered above her, so sharp he could snap her in two without even moving a finger. During the day, it’s easy to remind herself that he’s back behind bars where he belongs. That she’s safe. That even if that stops being the case, she’s still nowhere near helpless; she knows how to take care of herself.

The dreams are always another story.

She squints into the dark of her ceiling, things still trying to take some kind of shape in her mind. There’d been a gun this time, on the table between them. She’d been reaching, only to find her hands suddenly tied back behind her chair…

Karen’s dozing off when she hears it again.

Scratch, scratch. Scratch, scratch.

It’s louder this time, more insistent. Any notion of sleep has now left her, and she sits bolt upright in her bed, ears straining.

It’s coming from her window.

She’s halfway to the drawer with her gun when the scratching fades, and for a moment there’s nothing but wind, and the faint sounds of late-night traffic below. And then—

Mew.

[read more below or continue on ao3.]

It’s clear, and plaintive, and “You've got to be kidding me,” Karen groans, throwing on a robe before padding her way over to the windowsill.

There, perched on the other side, with slow-blinking grey orbs and a thick coat of black fur, is a cat staring back at her.

“Okay,” says Karen. “Hi, I guess.”

She’s always been more of a dog person. But the thing is so small and forlorn, it’s probably freezing outside, and who can hold her accountable for bad choices made after 2AM anyway, so she unlatches the window and cracks it half-open.

“Do you want to come in or not?” sighs Karen when the cat only sits there and blinks at her some more. “Going once…twice…” She steps away from the window to give it more room to decide. A breeze works its way in, and she shivers, firmly closing the front of her robe.

The cat gazes at her a second longer, and just when Karen’s about to give up and call it a night, it slinks a paw inside, patting around as though feeling things out, before leaping onto the floor. One of its hind legs, she notices, is shorter than the others, giving it an odd little sway as it walks, but its movements are otherwise steady, assured.

By the time Karen’s closed her window and turned back around, the cat is nowhere to be seen, save for a blur of possible movement near the foot of her coffee table.

“Please, make yourself at home,” she speaks into the semi-darkness. There’s a faint but unmistakably smug-sounding yowl from the general vicinity of her couch cushions, and Karen trudges back to her own bed, half-hoping that when she wakes up in the morning, this will all have turned out to be some very strange dream.

…

“You got a cat?” asks Matt the next day, and she curses his sense of super-smell, the hint of amusement as he quirks his head in her direction.

“More like the cat got me,” grumbles Karen, making a beeline for the kitchenette without bothering to dump her things off at her desk. All the coffee in the world isn’t going to wake her up from this nightmare, that apparently she’s become one of those people. Those people who give off the impression of owning a cat.

“I tried to get us a cat once,” Foggy pipes up. “But Marci said over her dead body, so I decided not to press the issue.”

“I would gladly let you take this one off my hands.” Karen sips her coffee, leaning into the wall for a moment. “Matt…you seem like a cat person.”

Matt’s face twitches with a smile. “I don’t know whether I should be insulted or flattered.”

“Oh, I do,” says Foggy helpfully, before turning back to Karen as she treks slowly over to her desk. “Why don’t you drop him off at a shelter or something? The cat, I mean. Not Matt. Of course.”

“Of course,” echoes Matt, with a shake of his head.

“Seriously, though. They could help find him a good home. One that doesn’t have to be yours, if you don’t want it to be.”

“Her,” Karen corrects absentmindedly. “It’s a her. I think.” She sets down her mug, picks up the day’s Bulletin that Foggy’s made a habit of bringing in for her. She should grab some more bread from the store on her way home. The cat had gone through her last loaf earlier that morning.

“So what do you have against them, anyway?” Matt’s thumbing through case files, still looking faintly entertained by the whole situation.

Karen turns to the crime beat section, her old stomping grounds. The headlines rush together, no particular names standing out. She breathes again, and shrugs to Matt, “Nothing against them. They just don’t happen to be dogs.”

“Fair enough,” says Foggy. “Though I had this one cat growing up and sometimes I swear you could not tell the difference.”

“They have zero loyalties to anything, apart from themselves. And they’ll walk all over you if you let them.” She frowns at the memory of trying to shoo the cat back outside that morning, the look of disdain she’d gotten in return before the cat jumped onto her bed and made herself comfortable there.

“Some might call that self-sufficient.”

“And I saw a study once suggesting that most cats recognize the sound of their owner’s voice over a stranger’s, but only ten percent of them actually bother to acknowledge it.” Not that she'd planned on naming the thing or testing out any part of this theory.

“Nothing against them, you said?” Matt asks her in an innocent tone.

“You know,” says Foggy, “if I were to die suddenly, just keel over in my living room one day, and my cat had to starve – let’s say, for argument’s sake, that Marci’s, I don’t know, she actually made good on her threat if I got one – I would not blame it for eventually needing to eat both of our bodies.”

“Cats wait on average fewer days than other pets do under those circumstances.”

“I thought we were on the same side here, Matt.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” groans Karen, dropping her forehead into her hands. “I can’t leave her at a shelter. She has this gimpy back leg. Nobody’s going to want to take her.”

“Shame,” Foggy says mildly. “Wonder how this story ends?”

…

She takes the cat to the vet. On the unlikely chance that the cat’s been chipped and belongs to someone (she doesn’t), and to get that leg checked out while they’re at it (healed from a bad break that had never been properly tended to).

She tells herself she’ll give it one week, max, to figure something out. Something more permanent, that doesn’t involve cat litter strewn all over her bathroom, claw marks on the sides of her couch, and more than one broken glass that she shouldn’t have left on the counter.

At least she has an excuse not to think about buying flowers for her windowsill anymore.

Karen tells herself all of this until they’ve left the vet a second time, with a schedule for catch-up vaccines and a two hundred dollar bill that’s telling her otherwise: this cat is now hers, whether she likes it or not.

She’s never been more grateful for Matt’s heightened senses, when it saves her the trouble of having to admit it out loud. To his credit, he breathes not a word, though she doesn’t miss the way his mouth turns up at the corner sometimes when she re-pockets her emergency lint roller, or starts cutting out coupons for Petco in the Bulletin ads.

And Foggy's only comment, after a few weeks of staying silent on the matter: “So when can I come meet your new girl?”

…

They fall into an easy routine.

The cat is the first thing she sees in the morning, sharp little paws kneading relentlessly into the blankets until Karen finally rolls out of bed with a groan. She’s stationed by the door when Karen returns from the office every late afternoon – sometimes late evening, depending – winding herself around Karen’s legs, tripping her up and loudly asking for food in the same breath.

She’ll never admit it, but it’s…kind of nice, to have this small ball of comfort, curled warmly beside her at night. Nudging a cold, wet nose in her ear when she falls asleep with the TV still on. Ignoring her, too, on days when she simply can’t be bothered, sitting by the window with a prowling gaze on the squirrels and pigeons instead.

It’s quiet, and the quiet is something Karen wants so badly to count on. To believe that the noise can be over, that maybe her ‘after’ can be something as simple as coming home to a stray that’s decided it belongs with her there.

The dreams come less frequently now, and it’s nice, to be able to sleep through the night again.

Karen still doesn’t know what to call her, which appalls Foggy more than anyone else. But none of the things he suggests sound quite right to her, and she keeps stalling, saying she’s sure the inspiration will come at some point.

“What are you waiting for?” Matt finally speaks up, without judgment, only a gentle curiosity to his tone, and Karen wishes she knew how to answer him.

…

When his name starts showing up in the papers again, Karen’s running late for work. The cat had hurled up a hairband at breakfast, and as an apology for showing up probably smelling like vomit, Karen had grabbed bagels on her way in.

Something’s wrong the moment she walks through the door. Matt’s back is to her, but it stiffens at unnaturally sharp angles before she’s even opened her mouth to greet them, Foggy doing his level best not to betray anything in his own expression.

“Did you know?” Matt asks without turning, an accusation in every word.

Karen shakes her head, bewildered. She’s still standing in the doorway, bag limp at her side. “Know what?”

Foggy meets her gaze from his desk in the corner. “Frank,” he says, and it feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, her chest burning with things that she’d long thought snuffed out. “Frank Castle is back.”

…

His face is splashed all over news outlets, every bit as battered and bruised as Karen last saw it so long ago, as their bodies swayed together in that elevator stopped between moments in time. She wonders, in all the months that have passed since then, whether he’s known any peace – any healing – or if the bleeding’s never stopped.

He’s wearing the vest as he charges down streets on CCTV, and even with the volume on mute she can feel the ricochet of his gunfire, hear the ground-out fury of his voice every time his mouth curls on a snarl.

The cat has taken an interest in the news as well, looking alert as the camera goes blurry around Frank for a moment. Her tail thwips back forth, back again, and then she’s stretching over Karen’s leg, resting her chin on her two front paws. She lets out a low, rumbling purr when the edges of Frank begin to sharpen again, her eyes never leaving the screen.

“Not you, too,” sighs Karen, scratching behind her ears as the footage replays. Frank storms down the street one more time, face set in so much rage. She reaches for the remote, but can’t bring herself to shut it off.

She doesn’t sleep much that night.

When she does dream it’s short, fragmented. Impossible to piece together in a coherent way. Fisk pays her another visit, but in place of the gun this time it’s Frank on his rampage, his outline fuzzy with static, and no sound comes out when he's shouting at her.

“Frank,” she says, and her voice sounds strong as she reaches for him, each time he gets close enough to touch her. “Frank.” But then his footsteps rewind, and he’s running towards her only to backtrack again, over and over without closing any new distance between them.

Karen’s never been one to take stock in dreams, but it feels oddly like foreshadowing, when she un-cuffs him from his hospital bed a few days later.

So make it mean something.

Turns out it never meant anything at all.

…

Karen calls out of work for two days, after that. Hoping that’s enough time to get Frank’s scent out of her skin.

She needn’t have bothered. They would’ve put two and two together, after seeing the news. The shootout on the overpass. The TV reports of Sergeant Mahoney giving interviews from his own hospital bed, staying strangely tight-lipped on the matter of Frank Castle’s escape from his custody.

Karen wears flats to the office, and doesn’t say much under Matt’s own wordless scrutiny, the tight smiles that she knows don’t reach his eyes beneath those darkened frames.

There’s not much to say that hasn’t already been said.

Poor Foggy’s left with the task of mediating the silence between them, telling stories, cracking flat but good-natured jokes about their clientele, finally resorting to asking after Karen’s “She Who Still Has No Name” cat.

“She’s fine,” says Karen, thinking of late nights watching the news, and the content little meow every time Frank’s scowling face appeared back onscreen.

Matt breaks his silence at last, uttering a quiet, “Was it worth it, Karen?” He speaks without slowing the speed of his fingers over the papers in front of him, and the blood floods up to her ears in one deafening rush.

Screw you, Matt.

But then the image of Frank is fighting to the surface again, stumbling forward without daring to touch her in any way before turning his back on her for the last time. I don’t want to. I don’t want to.

It’s impossible to say, in that moment, which of the two has disappointed her more.

Was it worth it, Karen?

“Always.” Her tone is perfectly even, but her heart is pressed tight to the walls of her chest, and she’s not sure even she knows the difference anymore, between the truth and the lie.

…

Karen tells herself a lot of things. That she can’t forgive him so easily this time – if he even gives her the chance not to. And perhaps that’s what burns her more than anything else, that he’s always the one who decides when to show up, with flowers or a burner phone (a broken-sounding Please, and a soft kiss to her cheek that she’d felt there for days afterward). He’s always the one who gets to say no. He’s always the one who does the leaving.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter. There is no more this time, or whatever comes next, not for them. He’d made it quite clear where he stood on the matter.

(At least one of these things is definitely a lie.)

Karen winds up so determined to make it mean nothing, on her own terms, that in retrospect she should have known.

Her cat – Karen’s tentatively started to call her different names in her head, just to get a feel for how they sound – should have clued her in too.

After the newscasters start to run low on fresh Punisher material, her cat takes to sitting by the window for long hours instead, as if he’ll just come strolling around the corner of her block next.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Karen mutters, turning away as a garbage compactor rolls down the street.

Mrrow, says her cat, unblinking.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t make the damn rules.” Karen sinks into the couch with coffee in hand, a book on something lighthearted in the other. She props her feet on the table, tosses a throw over her knees, and focuses on the forgetting of things for a while.

She starts back awake to a series of clattering sounds, blinking through a haze of sleep and the dim lighting of just-sunset to find her cat pawing animatedly at the window. She catches a flash of something dark in the periphery, so quick she thinks she might have imagined it.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake…” Karen wraps the blanket over her shoulders and drags herself across the room, sighing all the while. She crouches down over the cat, running a hand over her back to calm her. “What did you find, hmm? Was it a big bad raccoon?”

The cat makes a chirping noise, and Karen looks up.

“Definitely not a raccoon,” she breathes, heart slamming up against her rib cage as Frank eases himself down from her fire escape. He opens his mouth, the gravel in his voice smoothed out by the windowpane between them.

She would still know the sound of her name in that voice anywhere.

“Karen. Hey.”

…

She can feel his eyes on her as she moves around the kitchen, trying to remember where she’d last put her bottle opener. Two beers sit unattended on her kitchen island, a bead of sweat dripping down each neck, and when had it gotten so hot in here?

She grips the edge of the counter with both hands, forcing herself to breathe for a moment.

She still can’t bring herself to look at him.

The cat is purring up a storm at his feet, tail brushing over his legs, spine arching in a very clear demand to be picked up.

What did I tell them? Karen can’t help but sigh. No loyalty whatsoever.

“Ah,” grunts Frank, glancing down with a slightly bemused expression, and Karen finds herself holding her breath again, wondering. He’d always struck her as more of a dog person. “Hey, sweetheart.”

His gaze flicks back to hers, searching for any signs of disapproval before he’s bending over, scooping the cat up in one hand.

“Got yourself a guard dog, I take it?” He lets out a low chuckle, lower lip snagging between his teeth as the cat crawls over his chest, rubbing her forehead under his chin. God, what a traitor.

“Yeah.” Karen crosses her arms. “Something like that.”

Frank brings his other hand around to cradle the cat’s shortened back leg. Karen can hear her purring from all the way across the room. “She, uh. She’s a real friendly one, isn’t she.”

Karen’s tone is sharp, pointed. “She’s not that great at deterring intruders.”

Frank drops his head down, nodding to himself for a moment. “Look, I can go, if that’s what you want, Karen, I just. Had to see how you were doing.” The sentiment falls flat and they both know it, a cringe twitching across his features. He surveys the room, and she can see him measuring out the space in his head, all the things still standing between them. He nods again, giving the cat one last scratch to the chin before releasing her. “I’ll go.”

Karen shrugs a shoulder at him, shaking her head. “It’s what you do best, Frank.” The words are out of her mouth before she recognizes the dark place that they’d come from, and the shame of it stops her short.

It’s what you do best, Karen.

Frank knits his brow together, looking more somber than she’s ever seen him, and he turns to leave.

“Wait.” She uncrosses her arms, holds out a hand to him before letting it drop. “Just – wait.” She comes around to the side of the island and stops there, gazing at him, willing him to understand her. She can’t be the one always reaching for him. Not this time. Not anymore.

Frank closes his eyes for a second, draws in an audible breath like he’s searching deep within himself for something. When he looks at her again, he seems to have found it, his expression painfully bare, and she can see every one of his bruises, new cuts that have formed over half-healing scars.

Slowly, he makes his way over to her – less gingerly than he’d needed to at the hospital, but there’s still a carefulness to his movements, like she might decide not to let him any closer, and he wouldn’t blame her for it.

Karen swallows, gestures into the space between their bodies. “What is this, Frank?”

His breath shudders out. His voice is gruff, hoarse like he hasn’t used it in days, and maybe he hasn’t, not in this way. “You mean something. To me.” He redistributes his weight, nudging himself just a little bit closer. She still hasn’t moved.

“God, Karen, I—” Frank shakes his head, mouth pulling upward with a kind of disbelieving laugh. “I did some thinking, after, with the kid, okay, and it made me think, made me realize—”

He breaks off, gaze piercing through hers. His body goes perfectly still, and she knows the effort it’s taking him, knows that it can’t just be nothing, that it never was, after all.

“You might mean more than anything else that there is, and that – that scares me. That terrifies the shit out of me, yeah? That gonna be okay with you, Karen?”

His voice cracks on her name, and suddenly they’re swaying together, her arms coming up to his shoulders to steady him. To steady them both, and it’s messy, it doesn’t un-complicate all of the damaged pieces that don’t fit quite right with them yet, but it’s a start. It’s a start.

Her breathing evens out in time with his, and then she slides her fingers down to gently grasp around his wrists. His palms turn upward, dwarfing her own. He squeezes her back instead of letting go.

“Both hands, right?” she says to him, and he whispers her name like a kiss to her forehead.

…

He eventually falls asleep on the couch, with her copy of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up still splayed open over his lap. The cat is comfortably dozing away on his chest, his arm draped protectively around the side of her body. The furrow lines between his brows are smooth, relaxed, and there’s no movement behind his eyelids, no tossing and turning like she’d seen at the hospital.

It’s a disarming sight, and for a moment Karen can only stand there, watching the rise-fall-rise of their slumbering, before tucking a blanket over them both.

She lets a hand linger, brushing back some stray hair from Frank’s forehead. The top of it has gotten long, she thinks, with a feeling that she realizes is fondness, and it leaves her chest warm as she starts to tiptoe away from the couch.

Impulsively, she leans back over him before she’s out of range, pressing a light kiss to the square of his bruised-up jaw. He stirs without waking, but the cat blinks up at her for a second, stretching her paws and closing her eyes again when Karen gives her head a gentle little scratch.

“Night, my love,” she whispers, and they’re both shifting, curling into each other as Karen takes another step back. Frank’s nose is half-buried into the cat’s fur now, a deep, sleepy rumble sounding out of his throat, and it’s hard to look away from them, like this might all simply disappear if she does.

Karen forces herself into her bedroom, but she leaves the door open, and she falls asleep to the thought of what this new after could be – just Frank, and this cat, her two broken strays that have made a home out of her heart for good.

…

Fisk is there again, shouting things and threatening violence, but he’s started out farther away this time as he advances toward her, and from this distance, he almost seems small.

“Karen.”

She looks around, confused.

“Karen!”

Something warm closes over her wrist, a phantom touch that she can’t see, but she would recognize the sound of her name in that voice anywhere.

She puts the gun down.

Frank is hunkered over her when she opens her eyes, his gaze troubled and bright in the dark of her bedroom as his mouth forms over her name over and over. “Hey. Y’okay?” He rasps the words out, still bleary with the last remnants of sleep. His hair is standing at an angle on one end, and Karen resists the urge to run her fingers through it.

He helps her sit up, one hand palming the back of her skull, and it’s warm, he’s warm all over, as she leans an arm into the crook of his shoulder. The bed bounces slightly under their weight as he reaches with his other hand, sliding a rough thumb over her elbow, pressing the bridge of his nose to her temple and breathing in deep.

“It’s always the same dream,” she tells him, and she knows he must hear it, the echoing of his own previous words.

Frank licks his lips, hanging his head with something like shame for a moment, as though he wants to ask of her things that he has no right in asking.

“Listen, Karen, I…” He trails his fingers over the soft part of her forearm, before coming to linger down by her wrist. “You were there for me, always are, even when I don’t—” He breaks off again, watching the way their hands twine together. “Guess what I’m trying to say is, if I can be that for you, I’d. I’d really like to give it a shot, yeah?”

Frank looks at her now, face sculpted in moonlight, so vulnerable that Karen aches all over to look back at him. She tightens her grip on his hand. “I’d like that too,” she tells him.

He lands a kiss to her knuckles, tender and careful, warm with the promise of more. She can feel his breath shaking over her skin, cooling the spots his mouth had touched. She rests her head against the slope of his shoulder, eyes drifting closed as he brushes his fingers up and down the side of her arm before finally weaving into her hair again.

There’s movement at the foot of the bed, and a soft chirruping meow as the cat pads over to join them, tail grazing their hands where they’re joined.

“She got a name?”

“Work in progress,” hums Karen. “Kind of thought for a while she would just up and leave at some point, before I got something to stick.”

Frank’s quiet for a moment, mouth skimming back and forth over her hairline. She pictures those lines in his brow creasing again, deep in thought about what she’s said. “That right?”

“Mm.”

He comes to rest with his mouth by her ear, nuzzling a slow little kiss there. “Think it might be time to give her one, then.”

Karen stretches into him, head falling sideways, letting him find her pulse point next. “Think so?”

“Yeah,” Frank murmurs, heat tracking over her skin as he breathes her in like time has no meaning – like he wants to learn all that he can of her, and then keep on going, no end in sight, no war zones, just this. She thinks she’s never wanted anything more either. “Yeah, Karen. I do.”

[garden-ghoul]

Gerry and Gerty’s funeral home caper lmao

There is something perilously easy about Gertrude’s professional usage of her tools, Gerard included. Let him just say that it’s lucky he never got into the habit of calling Mary ‘Mum,’ or he would have accidentally done the same to Gertrude. As much as he likes Gertrude he is aware of how dangerous it would be to let her know how he feels about her—that he feels, even. Every other person she has ever worked with has been disposable, and Gerard isn’t about to add himself to that list for the crime of being inconveniently emotional.

They’re in Los Angeles at the moment, for once relaxing while they wait for one of their Hunters to break cover. Gerard is generally wary of any place with too many approaches, but it’s pretty funny to see Gertrude trying to blend in with normal people out for a holiday. She’s sitting on a beach towel with her sleeves rolled up as a small concession to the heat. Reading, of course, a war history with the battlers’ miniscule eyes carefully excised from the cover; she rolls a scalpel absently between her fingers, ready for the moment when she turns the page to find another illustration. The towel, pink and orange and bought by Gerard expressly to look ridiculous, is already littered with tiny diamonds of paper. All carefully turned blank-side-up.

For his part Gerard is taking the opportunity to meet the ocean. Just at its edge it holds little of the Vast about it, so he stands watching little waves wash over the eyes that watch over his ankles, slightly hypnotized. It’s a bit kiddish of him, but he has no interest in staying inside Gertrude’s personal space bubble, which today is roughly two meters in diameter. He could be looking for shells, but he wants to not be looking for anything for a little while.

Still, every so often (carefully timed to minimize strain) he looks through the lens of himself at the taquería where their Hunter is lingering over lunch. This is his part, as Gertrude actively avoids using or even receiving gifts from the Eye—Gerard has long learned that beggars can’t be choosers—but his gut burns with the desire to avoid disappointing her. Yes, even though he recognizes that he shouldn’t care, that it’s dangerous for him to care. He tells himself not to and then does anyway, damn her. Damn her for being just slightly more like a proper mother or even a proper friend. Actively cutting out his feelings like paper eyes is exhausting, but at least it’s a convenient reminder to distrust her.

Ah. There. He sloshes out of the shallows and back toward the towel, where he starts rubbing the sand off his feet so he can put his boots back on.

Gertrude looks up over the top of her book. “She’s moving, then?”

“Yeah. Looked like she was just heading up that big street there.”

Gertrude rises like a wading bird, brushing a few stray eyes off her blouse, and snaps her book shut. Gerard hastily does up the laces on his boot and follows. “Leave the towel,” she says as if she knows he was about to pick it up and start folding it. “Heaven knows we have no use for it.”

“That was ten dollars,” he says mildly. Mostly he’s just peeved he won’t get to see her sitting on it again.

“Time is worth far more than money,” she says. Right, he thinks as she starts toward the road with strides as long as her short legs can manage. That’s why we’ve been hanging out at the seaside for two hours. Gertrude is probably never going to admit that she very occasionally enjoys ‘relaxing.’

He catches up to her in a few steps. “Does that mean you’ll pay me back for the towel, then?”

“I paid for your tickets to this country.”

“Fair enough. Oh, hang on, she’s turned. This way.”

They follow the Hunter a little over a mile, by which time both of them are sweating through their shirts. Gerard may slightly regret his pride in refusing to wear anything but black jeans, but he’d no more admit it than Gertrude would admit she regrets wearing long sleeves. There’s something unfortunately kind of charming in the fact that she won’t stop dressing like an Archivist even while on the hunt. It’s integrated into her personality—oh, hang on, that’s not charming, that’s worrying.

Gerard does not like the Archivist anywhere near as much as he likes Gertrude Robinson.

“She’s gone into… a funeral home. Bit odd for a Hunter. But I know what I Saw,” he assures Gertrude.

“Hm,” she says. “We’re going to wash our faces and have some lunch.”

Gerard doesn’t ask any questions. He’ll understand why in a bit, and he is very hungry. They stop in at some kind of health food place a couple buildings down. Gertrude has an unfortunate liking for salads—at least, unfortunate for Gerard, who never quite made it to whatever social class you’ve got to be to actually enjoy eating quinoa. He gets a salad with both chicken and bacon, which is the best he can do, and slowly freezes in the air conditioning in his damp clothing.

“I’m sure you can guess the plan, as this isn’t the first funeral home we’ve infiltrated,” Gertrude tells him. He nods. “Is the Hunter still inside?”

He pauses his chewing and focuses inward. “Difficult to tell. She’s inside a building, at least. In what looks like an office, talking to a man in business formal. He’s not afraid of her.” He hisses through his teeth and lets it go. “That’s it. My head is done with Seeing for today. Would it kill you to learn this too?”

“Possibly,” she says coldly. They don’t speak for the rest of lunch, leaving Gerard to wonder whether she expects it to kill him, or worse. Still disposable, but sturdy at least, he thinks sourly. Gertrude doesn’t speak, in fact, until they enter the funeral home and the director or secretary or something comes and greets them. Then she says, with just enough of an edge of bitter tiredness,

“Comparison shopping. I’m sure you of all people know a funeral has to be perfect.”

The woman’s eyes flick from Gertrude to Gerard. “Your husband?”

“Yes. Heart attack.”

She smiles sympathetically at both of them but especially at Gerard, who’s hanging back looking uncomfortable and glancing around at everything. A pity his head is splitting open, or he’d be able to tell from this distance exactly where the Hunter is. Gertrude asks for a tour so she can wave him around like a lint roller picking up signs of the Hunter’s passing through. And the Hunter has been here, recently. Gerard leans against the walls in a corner between two tall potted plants while Gertrude spins some bullshit about immigrating for a professorship at UCLA. He lets his eyes close and leans his head back tiredly, trying to feel through the walls and through his headache. The Hunter is almost certainly still here.

“Thomas,” snaps Gertrude, and he jolts back to attention. “Don’t lurk in corners.”

He pushes off and slouches toward her. “Would you relax, Mum? He’s not gonna get any deader from me not paying attention. It’s peaceful here. I think he’d like it.” She shoots him a tired, irritated look, and he shoves his hands back in his pockets. “I can just see him being here, is all.” Her eyebrows do the little message-received twitch, and she turns back to the director to start making arrangements. She’ll stall as long as she can; he wanders off to inspect a couple of promising doors.

This turns out to be a mistake, though he doesn’t realize it until halfway through picking a lock he hears a thump in the front room. He pauses just long enough to hear another one before he sprints back out to find Gertrude losing a wrestling match over a baseball bat with the funeral director.

“Hey! What are you doing!” he yells. The director kicks Gertrude in the chest, sending her flying into the wall, and turns toward him. “She’s frail, Mum is!” The director is just confused enough (and small enough) that he can bowl her over and take the bat. He goes for a blow on the back of the neck, harder to misjudge than the temple, and she slumps to the floor.

He pauses a moment, breathing hard before he drags her into the office by the front desk. Then he comes out and crouches by Gertrude, balancing himself with the bat. “You alive?”

Gertrude groans in response and tries to sit up. “I may have a concussion.”

“Anything else?” She shakes her head carefully and accepts his hand up. “But you’re still in no condition to be hunting Hunters, and I’d rather not either. I’m not exactly a martial arts specialist. Or a baseball player.”

“Hmh,” says Gertrude. “This may be our only opportunity.”

“You make opportunities, Gertrude. That’s precisely what you do. So don’t give me that bullshit.”

“We are running out of time. Let me tell you something, Gerard. The way I create opportunities is by not ignoring them when they are dropped in front of me on a silver platter. This is such an opportunity. And with some ingenuity none of this will prevent us from seizing it. We simply need to disguise our presence.”

He lets her boss him into camouflage while she goes to the nearest convenience store for ice. And then he spends the next five hours tailing the Hunter all over the city, gritting his teeth through his steadily worsening headache every time he loses her. He can’t even be that angry at Gertrude, because she’s right: this is invaluable information they couldn’t have gotten at any other time. They have a comprehensive list of allies, and they’ve confirmed that three powers are allied for this ritual.

No, screw that, he can be mad at her when he stumbles into the motel room two hours past dark and she’s freshly showered and reading her history book. “Tell me what you found,” she says.

He kicks off his boots with so little coordination that he falls onto the bed and just lies there.

“Gerard.”

“Yeah, hi,” he says into the bedspread. “I feel like I got repeatedly hit by a truck. You’re very welcome for doing one hundred per cent of the work.” She waits in frosty, expectant silence until he digs his phone out of his pocket and chucks it at her. “It’s all in my notes. I’ll talk t’you about it in the morning, if I’m alive then.”

Despite how much his head hurts he starts to fall asleep almost instantly. So he’s never quite sure whether he dreams her very quiet “Thank you, Gerard.”

NOTES: You know, I thought for a long time that Gerry didn’t actually have any powers from Beholding, until yesterday when I listened to First Aid again and realized he was somehow using the same knowledge-seeking power Elias has to find out passcodes. I just assume he’s not as good at it. And we do know Gertrude never even learned any other languages… unless of course she was just pretending to keep Michael out of her hair. The point is Gertrude has never demonstrated any Archivist powers so I assume she found it distasteful.

[eldritchsurveys]

307.

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? >> Yeah.

When you did see a photo, was it how you'd imagined them? >> I didn’t really imagine them as anything specific.

The last time you threw up, what caused it? >> Alcohol.

If you saw Rent Live on Fox, did you like Valentina as Angel? >> I didn’t even know that was a thing.

Did you have any foreign exchange students at your high school? >> Not that I recall, but I remember in middle school we had Kosovoan refugees because that was around the time that conflict was happening.

Did they have favorite foods from your country they'd never had before? >> I don’t think I actually talked to them.

Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven't yet? >> Many.

Has bad weather ever prevented you from getting to work? >> ---

Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? >> Nope.

Have you ever internet stalked anybody? >> No.

Have you ever had a stalker? >> No.

Do you think sage smells like marijuana? (Some people do.) >> No.

Are you ever guilty of hypocrisy? >> Of course.

Have you kept the same icon here for a long time? >> I’ve used this same icon since starting this account.

Why did you choose your icon, anyway? >> I don’t know, I saw it in my old-ass icons folder and thought it was amusing.

Have you ever made any friends through Bzoink? >> No, I don’t actually use bzoink. I just steal surveys from there.

Would you like to make any friends through Bzoink? >> ---

Any fun facts (on any topic) you'd like to share? >> Hm.

Did you ever watch Labyrinth? >> Many times.

Could you ever see anybody other than Bowie as Jareth? >> Of course not. God, can you imagine someone trying to remake Labyrinth... the entire internet would implode.

Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? >> Sometimes, despite it being ridiculously irrational.

Is there anything you have a chip on your shoulder about? >> Yeah, probably.

Do you like it when people give you nicknames? >> People don’t give me nicknames.

Do you often find yourself checking out people's butts? >> Not often, but it happens.

Can you be friends with people with opposing political views? >> I don’t really have political views, but there are some people whose political views and the reason for having those views are just incompatible with me.

When you make friends, are you usually the one to 'make the first move'? >> *shrug*

What fandoms are you in? >> I never really thought about it. I just jump in and out of them at whim.

Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? >> No.

Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? >> There are things that fans in general do that pisses me off. Picking on a specific fandom is pointless because there are always people in any fandom who do the shit that pisses me off.

Do you ship anybody in your fandoms? If so, what is your OTP? Your NoTP? >> I ship a variety of things in a variety of fandoms.

Do you more often feel superior or inferior to others? >> Neither, really.

What kind of pasta is your favorite? >> I like tortellini.

Do you like beef jerky? >> Yeah, but not all kinds.

Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? >> Non-ruffled. But kettle cooked, not just regular paper-thin chips.

What smells remind you of your childhood? >> *shrug*

Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? >> ---

Can you do any impressions? >> No.

What color do you want to dye your hair? >> I don’t.

Do you have a 'meet cute' story with your partner or friend? >> No.

Did you know A Star is Born was technically a remake? (There have been many versions of it.) >> Yeah.

How do you like your chicken? >> Fried.

Do you enjoy cheese fries? >> Not really.

Do you eat refried beans? >> Sometimes.

What is a food you enjoy, but don't have very often? >> Tiramisu.

Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? >> I don’t have a preference.

Favorite fictional world? >> As if I could choose one favourite.

Do you like fuzzy socks? >> Yeah, but they make my feet feel way too hot within five minutes so I rarely wear them. I just like the fuzz, not the hot. :(

Do you wear slippers all the time in the winter? >> I wear slippers all the time in this apartment no matter what the season, because of the cat. Except in my room, because that’s the one place he isn’t allowed.

Do you use lint rollers often? >> No.

Do you carry pepper spray? >> No.

Have you ever had to use it? >> ---

Have you ever been kicked out of a public place? Why? >> Yeah, I was kicked out of Arlene’s Grocery (a bar) like 8 years ago for throwing a fit about something or other.

Best thing to do during a power outage? >> *shrug* Wait?

Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? >> No.

Art posters and tees where they have put tattoos and piercings on Old Hollywood stars -- yay or nay? >> I have no interest in them.

Do you have/have you ever had an unusual pet? >> No.

Do you donate to any associations that care for animals? >> No.

What keeps you coming back to Bzoink? >> It’s where I get most of these surveys. After all these years, it remains one of the most reliable sources for them.

[kpopreactionstoruinyourlife]

Moonbin Scenario - All’s Fair in Love and War

Scenario Masterlist

danixplr said:

Helloo can I request a Moonbin scenario where you and him are having a prank war :))

How did this all begin? Well, that would be hard for you explain. The best starting point was probably that day when you made cake. Or, more accurately, Moonbin decided to make a cake while you finished up some work. When you finally checked in on him a couple hours later. 

“So, can I compare with those bakers on that British show?” He said with a big grin as he turned the cake to you. “Well it is a bit sloppy but it looks good to me. Definitely love that you used chocolate icing.” “Only the best for my girl.” His grin was still big, suspiciously big. That was when you sliced into the cake. To find sponges. Sponges. “Please tell me you are hiding a real cake.” You said, looking up at him and aiming to control the spiraling frustration and disappointment in your stomach. “You’re not even going to ask where I got the inspiration from?” He said with a cocky smirk he was trying to make into a pout. “I imagine the internet or Sanha.” You said, crossing your arms and looking at the “cake.” “You know that is such a waste of chocolate icing…” “Well I did get you something.” He said with a still big grin. “I imagine it is not a really cake.” You pouted. That was the moment that broke him. A laugh burst from his lips as he steadied himself with a hand on the counter. “No, but don’t worry, I will take care of you.” He said as he pushed a jar of chocolate icing to you on the counter. When you opened it, gummy worms had been crammed into the top. With a sigh, you were left to only shake your head and plunge a spoon into the goodness. “So, are you impressed?” He was still smirking. “I suppose. You did get me.” And you still got a sweet treat out of it still. “So about the inspiration?” “Fine, go on.” You said hopping onto the counter. He leaned against it and into you, dipping his own spoon into the jar of icing. “So Sanha did that to Eunwoo after he and Jinjin ‘attempted to parent him.’” “As I suspected.” “I came up with the extra icing and worms.” “Thank you, I needed sugar.” You said, toasting him with the jar.

Things only escalated from that simple beginning. The next move was yours. You decided to be a bit more personal with your prank. After he fell asleep, you replaced the toilet paper in the bathroom and waited. When he woke up early and zombie-walked to the bathroom, you laid in your bed trying to swallow your giggles. Two minutes later… “Is this your way of telling me I need to wax babe?” He called out to you after cursing. “Don’t worry love, I have just the thing!” You said padding into the bathroom. You took out a bottle of aloe vera with a big bow on it. “Love you!” You finished, kissing the top of his head. “I swear to god…” He mumbled, cracking open the bottle and getting to fixing his business. “Shouldn’t have poked the bear!” You called over your shoulder as you headed back to your warm bed. “You honestly had to go for such a sensitive area?” He mumbled as he crawled back in with you. Pouting. “You had to waste chocolate icing. And I made sure it wasn’t at top stickiness.” You mumbled, curling against his side. “Why exactly do I keep you around?” “Hmm…cute laugh, smart, baked goods, and anal…ytical dialogue.” He snorted for a brief moment before going to pouting. “Just so you know, this is not the end.” He said bopping my nose. “Not surprised.” You kissed his cheek with your eyes closed. “But I have ninety minutes until I have to get up and I want to sleep a bit more.” “Why would I let you sleep after you made me wipe my butt with a lint roller?” “If you didn’t notice it was a lint roller pad until you wiped your butt, you kind of deserved it.” “Ok, so yeah, it wasn’t too bad but I was in zombie-mode.” “I know.” “I still love you.” “And know you know who exactly you are messing with.” You bopped his nose and settle in to sleep.

Now the ball was in Moonie’s court. A week later and you were served with penis shaped eggs. You responded with a lifesize Chanyeol cardboard cutout in the shower, and moved it around the flat to freak him the most. He responded by changing the contacts in your phone to Harry Potter characters but at least they made enough sense that you could figure it out. You next move was a little unimaginative but involved ordering takeout just for yourself and filling an empty carton with pictures of Obama’s advisor Susan Rice – he could have rice to eat. You got an earful about how he had no idea who the lady was but you were satisfied with it. Things continued, escalating and de-escalating depending on your laziness and time availability.

“Can we make a truce?” You asked Moonbin when you came over to the dorm about four months after the first prank. “We need a mediator.” He said with a smile. “Neither of us are poised to be unbiased.” “Jinjin and Eunwoo.” You said immediately. “Why both of them? Why not just Eunwoo?” “Because he’s biased to favor you, and Jinjin likes me so between them, we can form a truce.” “Oh this is going to be interesting!” Sanha said vaulting over the couch and dropping in next to Moonie. And that’s what gave you an idea. “Then again, we are both motivated to keep this relationship going, so why do we need mediators at all?” He noticed the glint in your eyes and a smile cracked over his features. You and your brilliant mind, he mouthed. But Sanha noticed the look, too. “No way! You’re going to target me!” He wailed. “Oh that might be interesting.” MJ said coming in from the kitchen and smirking. “You should be on my side!” Sanha yelled, earning laughs. It would seem that former enemies were going to become allies.