#he will do his famous arm flailing if he has to!!!

[alcoholttm]

@luposcainus asked:

" yeah i have a quirk ! it's not that exciting."

"i'm going to stop you right there, no matter what your quirk is, i bet that it's great! you shouldn't be so harsh on yourself!" he wasn't going to let another person belittle themselves, not on his watch!

[teapartyprincess4two]

Hi

Can i ask for a johnnie guilbert x reader where the reader is a friend of tara who is a very private person, so she gets know in the channel as "baby" and people start to notice that johnnie gets shy and is always looking somewhere off camera (to her)

A LOTTTT of pinning by johnnie (like so much it hurts)

And maybe at the end he confesses she kisses him and a lil sum-sum 😏

Thank uuuuu 😘

Babygirl- J. Guilbert

pairing: shy!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warning: use of y/n, slight cursing, slow build up, Jake and Tara are dating in this, suggestive content but NO smut, very long

inspiration: request^^, Deaf, Mute, and Blind Baking, Becoming Tara Yummy for a Day

summary: You didn’t choose a life in the limelight, you were just famous by association, and now you’ve earned yourself the nickname “babygirl” by the entire internet.

—

Most people wish they had the fame you had, they spend their entire life reaching for an unattainable dream that fell in your lap by coincidence. They wish for the fancy cars, the expensive clothes, and especially to be so famous they’re stopped by fans on the street for a picture.

Tara, your best friend, was one of those people. She spent her childhood and teenage years fangirling over pop stars and YouTubers, hoping that one day people would be fangirling over her too. She worked hard to earn the platform she has today, bringing you along with her to the top. But you never asked for any of this.

At first her newfound fame didn’t affect you, you were just a recurring background character in her videos and would sometimes, but very rarely, have a main role in them. Although you tried remaining in the background, the internet is quick to get attached to shy, background characters and before you knew it the fans were begging for more content with you.

So now you and Tara are a well known YouTube duo and you’re featured in almost every one of her videos, most of the time opting to participate from behind the camera. You especially remain behind the scenes when Jake and Johnnie are involved, specifically because you’re never able to hide your crush on Johnnie and would probably die from embarrassment if the fans caught on.

Like today for example, Jake and Johnnie are over at your house filming. They’re filming a video they’ve filmed many times before, they’re turning Tara emo. The three of them are piled onto the couch, discussing topic after topic as Johnnie packs on black eyeshadow on Tara’s eyes.

“Ow, Johnnie. You’re hurting me!” she squeals as Johnnie accidentally pokes her in the eye with the bristles of the brush. You can’t help but giggle from behind the camera, watching as Johnnie becomes flustered. “Sorry! I only ever do my own makeup, okay?” he apologizes, not becoming any more gentle with his motions. Johnnie glances at you quickly, a smile forming on his face because of your laughter.

“Why are you laughing, Y/n? You’re next,” Jake chimes in, following his statement with a boisterous laugh. Your face flushes slightly as you reply with a laugh, “no I’d prefer not to be tortured.” Johnnie laughs at this, sending you a fake pout, “you hate my look that much?”

Your face becomes even more red, if that was even possible. You didn’t mean the comment like that. Tara, whose face is being attacked with makeup, chimes in, “No, Y/n is too babygirl for this.”

“Oh God, you’re making me sound so high maintenance,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at Tara’s comment. “It’s true though!” she exclaims, turning to face you just as Johnnie begins applying eyeliner, causing a black streak to run from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

“Guys, Y/n is probably the most high maintenance out of the four of us. She gets a manicure exactly every two weeks, she gets her hair redyed like once a month, her room is NEVER dirty. She almost never ever has dirty laundry, AND she irons her clothes. Who irons their clothes?” Tara exclaims, flailing her arms in the air dramatically.

“So yes, she’s babygirl,” Tara’s talking to the camera now, completely oblivious to her appearance. You scrunch your name at the nickname, the internet tended to latch onto things like that, “First of all, you look ridiculous right now. And secondly, don’t call me that. I don’t need to be known as ‘babygirl’ for the rest of my life,” you reply, laughing as Johnnie tries to fix his mistake but fails.

Jake, who’s sitting on the couch next to Johnnie, straightens up and leans forward to look at Tara. He immediately laughs at the sight, the black eyeliner smudged all over her face. “You’re just mad that it has a nice ring to it,” Tara retorts, choosing to ignore the mess Johnnie made. You scoff, glad that the camera isn’t on you to catch how your eyes train on Johnnie.

“Okay, but doesn’t it sound cute?” Tara proposes the question to the boys, waiting expectantly for them to answer. Jake was always quick to agree with her, it was a trait she trained him to have over the years of their relationship, “yeah, it’s pretty cute.” Tara nods her head in triumph, turning to Johnnie for his response.

Johnnie doesn’t know what to say, he agrees that the nickname is cute, but he’s afraid he’ll say too much and expose his crush for you. “Johnnie?” Tara says, widening her eyes as she awaits his response.

“What was the nickname again?” Johnnie asks, trying to act casual. But if the cameras zoomed in they’d easily catch how his hands tremble as he fixes Tara’s eyeliner. “Babygirl?” he reiterates, attempting to sound confused and oblivious. Tara nods her head, causing Johnnie to mess up once again, but he’s too busy trying to keep his composure to care.

Coming from him the nickname doesn’t sound so bad, it actually makes you want to take back everything you just said. “Babygirl is cute,” he murmurs, sending you a small glance before quickly turning back towards Tara. You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and the smile that won’t go away no matter how hard you try.

“Enough with the babygirl talk,” you groan, but you really loved hearing him say it.

—

From that moment on, you were known as babygirl within the fandom. You couldn’t escape the nickname no matter how hard you tried, and the fans loved teasing you about it. Whether it be through edits, Instagram comments, or tweets; the fans were always calling you the nickname.

Johnnie, Jake and Tara are currently filming yet another video, despite your protests. The three of them are standing behind the kitchen counter, with either tape on their mouths, earmuffs on, or blindfolded. They were trying to bake a cake, something they struggled to do even without the inhibiting factors, so all they were really doing was making a big mess.

They understand your hesitance with being on camera, so they never force you to make any special appearances, but you still loved to watch. You sit behind the counter, just out of view of the camera, watching in amusement as the three interact.

Johnnie keeps getting distracted by you, fumbling and stuttering his way through the intro. You watch as Johnnie struggles to find the supplies needed for the video, searching through every cabinet in the kitchen. “Every time Johnnie says he’s ready, he’s never ready,” Jake comments, adjusting the black beanie on his head. “Where the fuck did I put it? No, Jake where did you put it?” Johnnie replies, scavenging for the baking supplies.

“They’re in the pantry,” you comment, walking over to Johnnie briefly and guiding him towards the pantry. Johnnie smiles at you, grateful that there’s at least one sane person here to help him. The interaction was caught on camera, but you were too distracted to realize.

“Thanks babygirl,” Tara exclaims, bopping her head to the music blasting through her headphones. You roll your eyes, helping Johnnie take everything out of the grocery bags and sprawling them out onto the counter. Once everything is in order, Johnnie’s mouth is quickly covered with a sticker, but he’s happy he isn’t blindfolded because he can keep sneaking glances at you.

The entire situation was chaotic, none of them had any clue how to communicate properly and they had less knowledge on how to bake a cake. Jake’s arms were stretched forward as he tried finding his way through the kitchen, Tara’s loud singing making it hard for them to concentrate on one task alone.

Tara, who wore the headphones, was more focused on singing than the cake. You watch them intently, unable to stop yourself from laughing, “you need to whisk the cake!” Tara, who can’t hear a single thing you’re saying, repeats your statement causing you to burst into laughter.

Johnnie pulls out a plastic butter knife, deeming it appropriate for the task. “Get the beater!” Tara yells, following it by belting out song lyrics. Johnnie has no idea what Tara is talking about, so he sends you a pleading look. If there’s anyone here who’s going to help him finish this cake, it’s you.

“The whisk, get the whisk!” you exclaim, trying to talk over Tara’s singing as best as possible.

“What’s going on?!” Jake asks, one of his flailing arms slapping both Johnnie and Tara. Johnnie’s laughs are muffled by the sticker as he holds the whisk out for Jake, guiding him to the bowl.

“Babygirl?!” Tara is being so loud, her voice a good three octaves higher than normal. “Stop yelling!” you exclaim, but she ignores you and changes the song, continuing to belt out the lyrics.

“Y/n, we need your help,” Jake comments, stirring the bowl so aggressively that it was twirling. “We have no idea what we’re doing,” he continues, lifting the whisk up and blindly taking a lick.

“JAKE DON’T LICK IT!” Tara yells.

Johnnie’s laughter and shocked scream are muffled, his face scrunched up as he laughs uncontrollably, and you can’t look away. You wish you weren’t so shy, so that way you’d be able to join them in this fun activity without feeling anxious.

“This cake is going to be so bad,” you chuckle, catching Johnnie’s attention. His eyes linger on you for a little too long, a moment the fans were definitely going to clip and edit.

“What did you say?! Did you say my singing is bad?!” Tara is still yelling, following each and every statement with loud singing.

Many dirty dishes and a messy kitchen later, the cake is finally done. The oven rings throughout the kitchen, and Jake and Tara send Johnnie to fish the hot pan out. The cake didn’t look too bad, but considering you watched them make it, you weren’t too excited to actually try it.

“You have to wait until it cools to frost it!” Tara exclaims, the headphones causing her volume to be more than pleasant. Johnnie can’t respond because of the sticker, and he doesn’t want to wait for it to cool, so he continues haphazardly spreading the icing over the camera. Jake, on the other hand, is in his own world.

“That actually looks disgusting. It’s raw,” you gasp, watching as Johnnie lifts the spatula to reveal an uncooked, watery mess. “It’s undercooked!” Tara yells, her inability to hear you causing her to repeat everything you say in different words.

Johnnie’s muffled laughter is infectious, earning a string of laughter from you. “Let’s just eat it,” Jake suggests, facing the complete opposite direction of the group. The beanie on his head inhibits him from seeing the state of the cake, but even if he could see it, he would probably still ask for a bite.

“Wait let me help,” you get up from your seat and walk behind the countertop, immediately searching for something to serve the cake in. “This is gonna have to do it,” you hand Johnnie three plastic cups. He scoops up the raw batter, the liquid cake jiggling in the cup and running down the sides, immediately coating his fingers in frosting and batter.

“We’re gonna get salmonella,” Tara is staring at the goopy mess in shock, how had they managed to mess up such a simple recipe?

“I wanna see… I think we should take this off,” Jake yanks his beanie off, a fit of laughter attacking him as soon as he sees the state of the cake. Tara was subconsciously poking at it, creating a big hole in the center. Johnnie’s hands were full of chocolate frosting, and he held them up in exasperation as he waited for someone to remove the sticker from his mouth.

“Here lemme help you,” you murmur, gentle hands removing the sticker. Your touch lingers a little too long, but he doesn’t complain. If he had it his way, you’d have your arms around his neck and his lips would be on yours.

“Thanks, babygirl,” he whispers in return, loving how easily the nickname riled you up. You hated how much you loved hearing him say it.

“This is actually not that bad!” Tara’s boisterous voice breaks you two from the intimate moment, forcing you to reenter reality. “Try it,” Jake suggests, going back for a second scoop.

Johnnie is hesitant, but he grabs the cup and puts a spoonful of the raw cake batter in his mouth. His face contorts in disgust, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Here let me try,” you take the cup from him, using his spoon to take your own bite.

As soon as the cake hits your tongue, you’re gagging. “Oh wow this is horrible,” you say, fighting the urge to throw up. They’re all laughing at your reaction, Jake pulling a long hair from his mouth in the process. “I love this hair, adds flavor.”

“Oh my God, I’m gonna throw up,” the hair Jake held between his fingers was only making the situation worse for you.

“See, she’s so babygirl,” Tara laughs, joking about the situation even if she found it equally as gross.

—

It seemed like your friends were always filming because every time the four of you hung out there always seemed to be a camera lurking not too far. Like today for example, Tara gathered everyone for a casual hangout, but once you arrived she explained that everyone was going to be living like her for the day. At first, you declined her invitation, making a lame excuse about not feeling good. But she begged and begged for you to be in the video, and before you knew it you were an integral part of it.

“Okay, since you guys are becoming me for the day, it’s only fitting that you dress the part. So, put on these track suits,” Tara says as she hands you, Jake, and Johnnie each a pink track suit. You’re trying to hide from the camera as much as possible, but Tara keeps pulling you back in every time you almost wander away.

The three of you shimmy into the outfits, immediately feeling the Tara Yummy essence wash over you.

“This is sexy,” Jake comments, admiring his figure as the sweatpants hang loosely from his hips. “I’m serving cunt,” Johnnie says, joining Jake in admiring himself. Their tattoos peeked through, contrasting the pink outfits entirely.

You emerge from the hallway seconds later, the track suit providing you with a newfound confidence, “I feel so stupid, but I also kinda feel like that bitch.” You stand still, allowing the camera to pan to you before hitting a dramatic pose. You turn around to show the camera the backside of the suit, the word babygirl written in curly white letters across your ass. “Slay, babygirl, slay,” Tara chimes in, strutting over to you and hitting the same pose.

“Let’s please not start with the babygirl jokes,” you groan jokingly, adjusting the sweatpants that kept riding up, you were starting to get a wedge. But you knew you weren’t going to escape the babygirl comments today, especially not with it written across your backside. It was like a label that you were forced to wear for the rest of the day, and the fans would surely seize the opportunity and run with it. To top it all off, the four of you were so well color coordinated that you looked like a 90’s girl group, ready to perform on stage at any moment.

“This is fun, but I still don’t understand why I’m being forced to do this,” you say, staring at Tara blankly.

“Because you’re my best friend,” she replies cheerily, offering you a big smile and booping your nose. It was hard to stay mad at her. She walks away, joining Jake as they engage in conversation.

“And you’re babygirl,” Johnnie teases, coming up from behind you unexpectedly, immediately causing a blush to form on your face. He loved watching you get flustered over the nickname. He laughs at your reactions, relishing every bit of it.

“Alright, first things first, time to eat. Mama’s hungry,” Tara says, ignoring yours and Johnnie’s interaction before facing the camera and leading everyone to the car. Jake and Tara are far ahead, leaving you and Johnnie to trail behind.

“It’s gonna be leaves,” Johnnie whispers to you, earning a laugh in response. He loved making you laugh. “Yeah, how much you wanna bet we end up at Health Nut?” you ask, settling the bet with a firm handshake between you and Johnnie. His hand holds a firm grip on yours, almost like he’s hesitant to let go as he says goofily, “$2, take it or leave it.”

As predicted, the four of you end up at Tara’s favorite restaurant; Health Nut. It’s no one else’s restaurant of choice, but you’re living as Tara for the day so it doesn’t matter what the rest of you want. You’ve been here with Tara enough to be familiar with the menu, so you order a simple salad and drink before moving to the side and allowing Johnnie to order. Once he’s finished ordering, he pays for your meals before letting Jake and Tara order.

Johnnie is playing it up for the cameras, trying to embarrass himself with his actions before the pink track suit does it for him. He’s sitting on a toddler chair and you stand next to him, choosing him as your comfort zone.

Because you always opted to remain behind the scenes, most of the viewers weren’t completely aware of yours and Johnnie’s dynamic. You two were always clinging to each other in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations, making quiet jokes to make the other laugh. You both also had a huge crush on each other, which further served as a gravitational pull.

“Order for… babygirl?” the employee calls out, a hint of confusion in their voice as they read the name on the order. This immediately causes you to laugh out loud. “You did not do that,” you whisper shout at Johnnie, who held his hands up in feigned defense as he tries not to burst into laughter. You awkwardly grab the food, both of youwalking over to Tara and Jake’s table.

“Did they just call you babygirl?” Tara asks as soon as you’re sitting down. “Yes dude, fucking Johnnie told them that was my name,” you laugh, hiding your red face in your hands. They call out Tara’s name and she dismisses herself briefly to pick up the food.

“Let’s go!” She exclaims from the restaurant’s front door, bag and drink in hand as she pushes the door open and walks outside. “Oh, I guess Tara Yummy eats in the car,” Jake says sarcastically, the three of you following Tara to the car.

Once you’re in the car, you and Johnnie sit in the backseat while Jake and Tara occupy the front. “I wanted to eat in there, but you guys are so embarrassing,” Tara says, handing Jake his food.

She doesn’t give any of you enough time to respond, “you guys are already pretty embarrassing, but the pink track suits make us all look genuinely crazy.” She’s obnoxiously shaking her salad from the front seat, causing the entire car to rock.

“Damn, don’t gotta put your whole pussy into it,” Jake laughs, earning a sly remark from Tara. Soon, they’re lost in a conversation of their own, leaving you and Johnnie to talk quietly in the back seat.

“Why do you keep pushing this ‘babygirl agenda,’ sir?” You ask, both in true curiosity and to make light of the nickname. He blushes, mindlessly picking at the salad in front of him.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy now,” you tease, piling up a good bite on your fork. He smiles at you awkwardly, preparing to admit something embarrassing.

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he admits with a shrug, taking a big bite of his food. Your eyes blow open in shock, this whole time you thought he was teasing you, but now it turns out he thinks it’s a cute nickname? “Don’t make fun of me,” Johnnie pleads in defense through a mouthful of food.

“I’m not, I just wasn’t expecting that,” you respond, trying not to be too loud. You couldn’t help it though, your giggles were soon filling the backseat. There was something about the confession that gave you hope that maybe you and Johnnie could be more than just friends. But you don’t want to get your hopes up, ir could easily all be for the video. You’re about to say something crazy and bold, but you’re cut off by Tara.

“Are you two done flirting? Cause I’m in the mood for coffee.” Leave it to her to ruin a sweet moment.

—

The day is finally over and the four of you are now wearing pajamas, reminiscing on the day’s events. Tara and Jake leave once the video is over, leaving you and Johnnie to lay on the large couch. The room is silent, but it’s not awkward, you’re both just catching up and joking.

“I was serious earlier, by the way,” he murmurs, staring at the ceiling above. “Yeah?” you say in a teasing tone, rolling over on your side so you’re facing him.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah. If I’m being honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, I mean the fans definitely have.” You mindlessly play with the strings of your robe, subconsciously scooting closer to him.

“So that’s why you keep calling me babygirl?”

“Mmm yeah, mostly. I think it sounds cute,” he smiles down at you, your figure just slightly further down the couch. You feel a surge of confidence wash over you, something you don’t usually feel as a shy person, and straddle his lap.

He looks at you in shock, both arms limp at his sides. “Say it,” you whisper, moving your face dangerously closer to his. You use your hands to grab his, placing them on your waist. He feels excited, nervous, and shocked all at the same time, was this really happening?

You grind your hips down onto him, hoping to elicit a response from him. “Babygirl,” he whimpers, the sudden friction sending a shiver up his spine that has his hips bucking. You hum in response, finally inching close enough to connect your lips to his.

You’re in a heated make out session, completely obvious to the world around you. Johnnie’s hands are roaming your body, your hips are grinding down onto him, and your fingers are tangled in his hair. You kiss from his lips down to his neck, sucking and biting the delicious skin until you leave a hickey.

The situation is about to escalate, but Jake and Tara interrupt before it can. They saunter in loudly, both you and Johnnie jumping off of each other in shock.

“About damn time!” Jake says, applauding you both for finally make a move on each other. “Get it babygirl!” Tara laughs, joining Jake in his obnoxious round of applause.

“So annoying,” you groan, throwing a pillow at them and shooing them out. Once they’re out of the room, you and Johnnie share a sheepish look.

“You’re never escaping that nickname,” he chuckles, silently pulling you back on top of him. “That’s okay. If you’re the one saying it, I don’t mind,” you murmur, kissing him again.

“Okay, babygirl.”

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Such a good request, I LUV being challenged with these specific requests!!! Hope I did it justice bby, I rewrote this like 5 times & had a different storyline each time. Also, I mentioned the famous hickey (💀💀) and I changed it from “baby” to “babygirl” because he mentioned that he’s “so babygirl” on Trisha’s podcast.

anyways, enjoy hunny bunches. Luv uuuuu

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[babybatss-blog]

DOMESTICS

Sirius black x reader, 1100  words

summary: all you wanted to do was cook Sirius some chicken for dinner, but perhaps things don’t always go your way.

c/w: established relationship, alcohol consumption, swearing and crying, argument between Sirus and Reader. Practically just tame, basic relationship angst that turns into fluff :)

The classic casual Friday night is always a big step in any intimate relationship. Stepping out of uncomfortable outfits and delicate table foods into comfy hoodies and junky snacks creates a whole new level of intimacy with a partner, and can be quite nerve wracking for at least the first few instances. 

But you and Sirius are way past that.

On the first date, you stayed the night at his for two whole days. You met his best friends on that second day, and he met yours just four days later. James said you were funny, and Lily said Sirus was smitten. He admired your comfortableness with him while you appreciated his lack of care towards your groggy state every morning, and a week in you both shared your deepest traumas with each other. On some random Wednesday your parents turned up unannounced in your apartment, which is when he met them both shirtless and slightly hungover (though he concealed the latter expertly).

So, two months later it is entirely expected to have Sirius lounging on your couch, watching some Netflix overproduced action show and as you cook dinner. Usually he prefers taking control of the kitchen because he “likes to spoil his girls”, but he did not impose when you insisted it was your turn to give him some love. The kitchen smells like a variety of spices and mouth-watering flavours, and despite the simple dish you are preparing the kitchen looks like a professional chef is making a world-famous meal. Plates, pots and pans are spread around, ingredients spilled on any and all surfaces and your state decreased to completely dishevelled, huffing and puffing at every slight inconvenience to come your way. “This needs to be perfect for him.” You think, anxiously managing every element with not a moment to spare. Unbeknownst to you Sirus has now snuck over, and softly places his chiselled chin on your shoulder as you peer over the cooking meat.

“Looks raw.” He states nonchalantly, arms creeping around your waist. “I know. It’s not done yet.” You explain bluntly, words leaving your mouth slightly more harsh than you intended. But you don’t take them back, as your focus is entirely taken up by the meal in front of you.

Wait, I thought it was done? What’s it meant to look like if it is done? What does it taste like? What more does it need?

He soon releases you, walking away to the bathroom as he calls out. “Sorry for not wanting to be poisoned I guess!” You huff, opting to not fight back in fear of putting too much energy into something that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. You and Sirius are both painfully stubborn when you want to be, and are often laughed at by your friends for getting in ridiculous arguments. Once, you needed to go on a walk and clear your head after the two of you debated which Barbie movie is the best.

As he returns from the bathroom he subtly side eyes the chicken, seeing you have now placed it on a plate ready for serving. Against his better judgment, he calls out, in a half cough half word amalgamation which complains “still raw”. Would it be smart for you to reply? No, of course not! But do you do it anyway? Obviously!

“WELL WHY DON’T YOU COOK THEN MR PERFECT?!” You snap, eyes erratic and wide as you face him. He scoffs, hands placed on the kitchen counter opposite you.

“I’d be happy to, but you didn’t fucking let me!”

”Didn’t let you? I’m not your mother, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Well it isn’t nice if I’m too sick to go to work tomorrow!”

“Relax hard ass, you start work at three!” The argument quickly escalates past the point of reasonable, as Sirius’ arms flail widely about and the vegetables are left to burn in the oven.

In a closing statement you call Sirius a “spoilt brat” and he storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him so he can no longer hear you if you try to apologise. Tears well in your eyes as you look around, realising what just happened truly as your brain finally processes. How can your worst argument be about some stupid chicken? You rush to repair the damage of your distractions to the meal, pulling the vegetables out of the oven as your salty tears fall within. You can barely see through your exaggerated sobs, mad at yourself for all manner of things.

Why did you let his simple comments go to your head? What if he’s right, and the meals a disaster? Will he despise you now for going so off the handle? Is this the last night of your fleeting romance?

You quietly serve up the food as these thoughts run through your head, wiping away gushing tears and snot as you go. Once it’s done, you tentatively go over to the closed door of the bedroom and knock a few times. You hear some shuffles, and the door is opened to reveal an unimpressed Sirus. “Sorry…” You mumble, eyes glued to the wooden floor between you. He pushes past you in silence, grabbing his plate and sitting down on the plush couch. As much as you would like to beg for forgiveness and list all the reasons you should stay together, you don’t deem that important when he pats the space next to him to sit down, handing you a sympathetic yet weak smile. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He finally gets out, eyes drilling into your still shy figure. “I just was trying to help.” “I know. But I didn’t want you to have to worry. I wanted to spoil you; you know?” His hand falls onto your thigh, the other placing the chicken in his hungry mouth. You join him in eating the meal, and reluctantly admit what you wished wasn’t true.

“It’s not fully cooked.” You pout, tears still glossing your eyes. He chuckles, placing his plate down and enveloping you in a hug. “That’s fine gorgeous. UberEats it is.” You pull back and quickly peck his lips, a smile forming on both your faces as you respond.

“Only if it’s Mexican.”

“Deal.”

[bokettochild]

Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

-

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.” 

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there.. 

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different. 

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt. 

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling. 

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?” 

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?” 

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone. 

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky. 

  “Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.” 

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?” 

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.” 

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified. 

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.” 

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod. 

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died. 

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.” 

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up. 

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.  

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him? 

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.” 

Deku Tree bless, is he right? 

  “A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.” 

Sheik. 

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before. 

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?” 

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?” 

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”  

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.  

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.” 

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.” 

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh. 

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs. 

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens. 

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity. 

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being. 

He can only ignore it for so long though. 

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind. 

“Failure follows in your legacy.” 

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create? 

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own? 

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.” 

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.” 

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.” 

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of. 

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish? 

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t. 

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking. 

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end. 

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others. 

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again. 

Failures. 

Never intended to exist. 

Ought never have come to be. 

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses. 

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing. 

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls. 

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop? 

- 

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity. 

“Yes?”  

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.” 

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to. 

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.” 

“We can stop for a rest.”  

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”  

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.” 

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone. 

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt. 

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing. 

- 

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance. 

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head. 

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful. 

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures. 

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent. 

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse. 

- 

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred. 

It’s freeing. 

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again. 

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world. 

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent.  Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well. 

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts. 

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t. 

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon. 

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.” 

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything. 

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing. 

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure. 

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry. 

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering. 

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away. 

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed. 

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow. 

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them. 

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes. 

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?” 

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury. 

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest. 

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning. 

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword. 

[amethystina]

"Han fattas mig."

One of the compliments I often get on my writing is just that — my writing. My word choices, my sentence structure, my imagery, my rhythm, my originality, etc. Now, I never thought I'd reach a point where I’d become that good at the craft itself, especially not in a language that's not even my native tongue. Partly because of imposter syndrome but also because I'm usually such a perfectionist that I never thought I’d dare to write something that doesn't strictly and stiltedly follow the rules.

Sentence fragments? Words used in unusual contexts? Odd or highly specific imagery? No can do!

Except, clearly, I can. I should, even.

And I want to share one of the monumental pieces of writing that made me realise that. And it’s not even a whole work. It's just one sentence, really:

"Han fattas mig."

Now, that probably looks a bit weird to those of you who don't understand Swedish, so let me explain.

That's a quote from the children's book Ronja the Robber's Daughter written by the famous Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. It was published back in 1981 and while I didn't actually read the book as a kid, I DID watch the Swedish live-action movie many times. But, even then, it took until my adult years to fully grasp the utter and heart-breaking brilliance of that quote.

For some context, the book/movie is about Ronja who, surprise surprise, is the young daughter of a robber chief. That quote is said by her father, Mattis, when one of the old robbers of their clan suddenly dies. Now, this old robber, Skalle-Per (uh... I guess the translation would be Bald Pete?), is clearly a father figure for Mattis. A wise old man who, while gloriously snarky, is also incredibly nurturing and emotionally mature. Which stands in stark contrast to Mattis who is the somewhat traditionally dominant, macho man. He HAS to be, on account of being the chief for a clan of rough and tough robbers. They, in many ways, complete each other, where Skalle-Per is kind, thoughtful, and sensible while Mattis is brash, violent, and impulsive.

Now, predictably, when Skalle-Per dies, Mattis throws a full-on tantrum. The kind that shows just how inexperienced he is with dealing with emotions without Skalle-Per to help him work through them. And, since the whole problem is that Skalle-Per is now dead? Mattis has absolutely no idea what to do.

He starts pacing back and forth, crying, flailing his arms, and yelling things like: "He's always been here! He's always existed, and now he doesn't!" And no amount of calming words from his wife soothes him and, eventually, he says that line:

"Han fattas mig."

And there is no direct translation I can give you that fully conveys the amount of raw, almost childlike, grief in that one sentence. This sentence was the one that made me realise that following the rules doesn't matter because, strictly speaking, this one doesn't. The words used are unusual to the point where they're even a little odd at first glance but, once you look deeper, also so incredibly impactful.

The rough translation would probably be "I miss him" but, as said, that doesn't convey the sheer desperation that those words do in Swedish. First of all, it throws the words around, completely changing the focus and weight of the sentence. "Han" is "he" and "mig" is "I." So saying "I miss him" reverses the order where the emphasis SHOULD be put on "him" but the main subject of the sentence now becomes "I" (i.e. less about the loss and more about how "I" am feeling). In “Han fattas mig” the “he” is the most important part.

Second, you have the word "fattas" which, yes, directly translated means "missing." But not the kind of missing that we Swedes normally use for grief. We have another word for that called "saknar." If you miss someone who has died, you'd say: "Jag saknar honom." Which is basically the same as the English “I miss him.” The word "fattas" is for a completely different context — a much more mundane one, with almost no emotional stakes. It's what we use when a piece is missing or something is lacking a required component. Kind of like you would say: "This stew is missing something" when it doesn't taste the way you want it to. But it can also mean "lost" as in "there's one puzzle piece missing."

So when Mattis says those words, he doesn't say "I miss him." He's saying: "He is a part of me and he is now missing," and "he is a part of me and I lost him," and "he is a part of me and now there is a hole where he used to be."

He is saying: "I will never be complete again."

Because "fattas" is also the word we use when something is missing and the thing won't be complete until you add it/return it/get it back. And, in this case, since the man in question is dead, you know Mattis will never get that chance. He will never be whole again. Which, sure, is a rather terrifying take on grief, but also not an untrue one. Grief will lessen over time, but the loss will still be there.

And this isn't me doing some sort of complex linguistic analysis — I don't have to. Because it's all there. It's so simple yet so effective. And yet, somehow, no one had really thought to use the word "fattas" to describe grief before. Because it's just a simple and mundane word we use for entirely different things, not big, painful emotions, right? Except Astrid Lindgren did. And while she no doubt did so to make it easier for children to grasp the concept — since most kids can relate to the feeling of losing something in the context of "fattas," which is much more direct and real than the elusive emotion of "saknar" — it also changes how an adult can view grief and loss.

Not even "I lost him" can fully encompass the absolute BRUTALITY of the grief found in the sentence "Han fattas mig."

And that is why I give fewer and fewer fucks about the rules. Now, obviously, I doubt I'll ever come up with something as brilliant as this sentence (it honestly rocks me to my core sometimes) BUT it's worth trying. It's worth being creative and experiment with the words you know and in what order you place them. Just maybe, you'll end up with something really cool. That's not to say you should ignore any and all rules, but it's okay to play around. It's okay to do the unexpected.

I think it's important to remember that. Writing is creative. We write to express things — to find ways to describe and explain complex emotions, grand adventures, and sweeping love stories. It connect us and gives us a way to share our experiences, thoughts, and feelings. And, sometimes, the set boundaries won't be enough. Sometimes, we might just need someone to look at how we describe grief and go: "I can make it simpler and, at the same time, so much more painful."

And it doesn't always have to be complex. It doesn't have to be difficult words and purple prose. Sometimes, all you need is three words so easy that a child can understand them and, somehow, you will describe a sense of loss so deep and so fundamental to that character that you KNOW that they will never be the same ever again.

So experiment. Be bold. And, above all else, have fun.

And, one final heart-wrenching fact to wrap this all up: The actor who played Skalle-Per — Allan Edwall — was in almost ALL of the movies/shows based on Astrid Lindgren's books. He played different roles, of course, but he was a staple — synonymous with her works. And, when the actor died back in 1997, Astrid Lindgren was asked how she was handling the loss and her reply was the same as Mattis’s:

"Han fattas mig."

[mdhwrites]

Im curious, cause i saw this criticism before.

Do you think that Deku, from My hero academia, by getting powers in the first ep contradicts the message about how anyone can be a hero?

(I like your blogs)

TL:DR It actually doesn't contradict at first due to the focus on the heart of the hero element of it. In universe, we are led to believe that Deku's position is true. No powers, you can't be a hero, so he gains powers due to being the most heroic. However, as the series goes on and we see people like Stain fight speedsters with a quirk that doesn't enhance his body at all, as an example, on their level, we realize it was always bullshit. You can train to be just just as good as at least low level criminals. Deku never wanted to be a hero, he wanted to be praised and famous, just like everyone claims All Might always was.

Oh, and I've seen the first three seasons of MHA, first one and a half again recently, so I can't talk about much of the interim... But will be bringing up the ending because it's REALLY fucking important to hammering home how fucked this is.

Okay, let's get deeper into this because it tackles elements of setting, characterization presentation and I'll be bringing the first Spiderverse movie eventually as a contrasting element to it. We need to start though with a simple question though: What makes a great hero in this setting?

In the first episode, when Deku is depowered, we see heroes being manipulative of the media and of their own bodies for fame and fortune because being a 'hero' is an industry in this world. Mount Lady pointedly takes the hype from another hero and then flaunts herself for the cameras. She is seen as popular because she has personality and a body, not for whether or not she did a better job subduing the villain because very arguably she didn't. Kamui Woods might not have caused the giant villain to crash, instead restraining without further property damage. We don't know 100% but the point stands that Mt. Lady definitely didn't give a fuck about that.

I bring this up because then eventually we get all these pros in the first episode who just stand there. Because they can't claim an all out victory, one that will make them look good or is guaranteed, they just say "We don't have the right quirks." They are incapable of being heroic despite being 'heroes'. The only one to break that is the unpowered nerd boy who cannot let this tragedy happen, regardless of risk to himself. These heroes are selfish and self serving well Deku is not. The only thing stopping him from greatness is that when you have monsters as your enemy, what is a normal human supposed to do?

It puts the onus of heroism on the heart, not the body. It doesn't matter if he gains powers because it is not his physical capabilities that make him a hero, it is the lengths he is willing to go to. Hell, the first form of One for All is FUCKING PERFECT for this. He has more power than anyone else in his class but to even attempt to use it means AGONY. He must steel his heart against that pain, and temper himself from the power, in order to use it at all, let alone effectively. This does have the problem of the fact that Deku breaks bones, repeatedly, and winces like he was punched instead of starting to scream bloody murder at the pain even from the first time he ever uses One for All. Yes, that'd be kind of grim but it'd sell the stakes of the power and what he's having to do for it then just bruising up his arm and fingers and making them flail. That turns it much more into a resource rather than a cost and that's kind of how it's treated in universe too which just sucks for this.

Into the Spiderverse has a similar theme of anyone being a hero but then giving Miles his powers. It doesn't defeat the purpose because Miles... isn't a hero when he gets the powers. It goes actually the opposite way. He is working for most of the movie out of obligation. He's leaning towards heroism but he does it because Peter entrusted him with this task and has to do it to make up for Peter's sacrifice. He takes steps through the entire movie to push past pain in order to come closer and closer to why he is doing this. To why he is bothering to keep putting himself in danger when he's not the right person. It's only after his father gives him confidence in himself, in who HE is that he stops wearing a costume and becomes HIS Spiderman, just as anyone can. Because it's not about the powers. It's that nothing keeps you down. That you will not let evil happen so long as you are still breathing. So stop moping, focus, and breathe. You aren't doing this for someone else, you're doing this because it's the right thing to do and you cannot stand to watch evil happen.

Deku lets himself eventually stay down though, doesn't he? Spoilers for the end of My Hero Academia and apologies for minor details I get wrong.

So at the end, he loses One for All. He goes back to being the quirkless loser he used to be. Then he goes on to teach or whatever he does until Mei comes with a suit of power armor that makes him superhuman. At the beginning of the series... This is actually a great ending. That the lives Deku touched, the ways he inspired others, led to the creation of something that can make anyone who will rush headlong into danger be able to do so so long as they make that choice. That's what an advancement in technology means after all. He can spread One for All to all who wish to do good. They all can be heroes if they want to be.

Problem is that this isn't the beginning of the series anymore, is it? We've seen heroes who literally have no powers from what I hear... So anyone already could be a hero. We have heroes who lose their powers and still go toe to toe with villains and hold them back like UA's #1 student when he loses his powers (again, from what I've heard). We've had villains with no body modification quirks be able to go against 10% of One for All's speed and stand toe to toe, if not be FASTER, like in the Stained fight. Hell, Stained goes against someone who puts most pros to shame, a speedster, and 10% of All for One and almost wins while his only power is to make a couple of these fuckers not be in battle for a little bit. I don't care that they're not pros, Stain is a fucking nightmare physically to be able to do all of this, not to mention all of the other skills that go into his martial arts, his blade mastery, just EVERYTHING he does.

Hell, a hero example? Eraserhead. If you're in front of him, it's quirkless to quirkless esentially but he fights DOZENS of villains during the end of S1. He cannot keep all of them in his sight at all times. A lot of it is just down to what he can do with his scarf and tactics. He does technically have an advantage but not one that benefits in any way in this situation. He trained to get past that limitation because the training matters at least as much as the quirks... So long as you don't have One for All.

Deku never trained. Miles kept trying. No matter how badly he failed, he would try again. He would do everything he could to be a hero. Deku though? When he gets One for All, he was weaker than All Might when All Might first took the power. That's literally stated by Gran Turino. He has no martial capabilities from what we know and just pulls out some judo early on out of his ass but definitely hasn't had any self defense training. Deku is labeled a fanboy in the first episode and it's just flatly true. He's one of those internet assholes who goes "If I had Ironman's suit, I'd be just as great as him," while sitting on his ass, arguing about why All Might could kick every other hero's ass, and villain, at the same time.

And this went from subtext to plaintext to the ending. He now has the body. He now has the training. He now has the experience. He has EVERY advantage possible besides having a quirk to be able to go be a hero. What does he do? He doesn't. He does nothing to achieve his dream, to be a hero, until someone says he won't have to train because he can just have his powers back in some way. He's as bad as the Operation Overdrive Power Rangers. No powers, not a hero.

As far as I'm concerned, that means bare minimum, Deku lost the heart of a hero through the series. He lost the willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. All that mattered was the powers. It is no longer the heart that matters for being a hero, it is the BODY. The physical powers. All that mattered to him was being able to look Bakugo in the face and go "I'm better than you. Better than all of you who said I couldn't do this and I didn't have to try." He didn't do any of the work that he could have to have been a hero. He just wanted to be as cool as All Might, as effortless as he saw All Might being, and that didn't change even after he saw how hard being a hero truly could be.

So yeah, anyone in the My Hero universe could have been a hero. Deku never was though which makes the theme die at step one. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I do sympathize with everyone who is furious at My Hero. The beginning is so strong, so good... And it looks so accidental in hindsight. It sucks real hard and I sympathize with anyone from that fandom as someone from a show that made grand sweeping gestures towards being novel, progressive and challenging and then was anything but.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[lemonteatwocubes]

hi could you do first years or equestrian club with asthmatic Yuu please?

I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted so here's a short fic. Kind of went off on this then fell off near the end. Hope it’s okay anyway!

Set during Camp Vargas: Exercise in Survival. Yuu has an asthma attack while checking up with the Equestrian Club.

EQUESTRIAN CLUB WITH ASTHMATIC!YUU

Don’t let his drowsy demeanor fool you, Silver is acutely aware of his surroundings when he needs to be. He is a knight, after all. Maybe this is why he is the first to notice something off with the prefect. During the trek to the campsite, it’s clear Yuu’s stamina isn’t up to par with the rest of the group. About halfway through they stop to catch their breath, red-faced and sweaty, leaning against a tree as Grim rubs circles on their back. Silver watches Vargas take them aside for a moment, only for Yuu to smile and wave the coach off. The march continues, Yuu taking up the rear, and Silver falls back to keep an eye on them. There are no more incidents, but Silver can’t help but notice the shortness of their breath.

Later, when the events of the trek have fallen to the back of Silver’s mind, Yuu and Grim come around to check on the Equestrian club’s progress. The boys have a nice fire going, smoke curling in the light breeze, and Yuu offers them a tight smile and a “good job.” There are dark circles under their eyes, and once again their breath is short. Silver nods his head to the spot across from him.

“You must be tired,” he says. “Why don’t you sit and eat. We caught plenty of fish.”

That gets Grim’s attention. Whatever Yuu’s answer was going to be is lost as the familiar digs into the catch of the day, prompting Yuu to flop down next to him. Silver smiles, glad they seem to be resting, and lets his eyes fall shut.

A small explosion startles Silver awake. At least, it sounds like a small explosion. Silver flails for his pen before he remembers, right, no magic permitted out here, and he sits up fully to assess the situation.

The prefect is on the ground, body convulsing with raucous coughs. Riddle and Grim are on either side of them, Grim rifling through their bag as the tyrant attempts to hold them upright.  

“What happened?” Silver demands. Riddle doesn’t spare him a glance.

“They’re having an asthma attack.”

---

It’s Riddle’s turn to watch the fire when he notices the prefect seems unwell. Yuu doesn’t sit so much as they lounge, face pointed away from the smoke, and as Riddle approaches, he can hear the whistle of their breath. His eyebrows scrunch in concern but he chalks it up to a lack of athleticism as he sits down next to them.

“You really ought to work on your stamina, prefect,” he says, intending to go on one of his famous lectures. The withered, half-angry look Yuu offers makes him pause, though, and he opts to drop the subject. “Anyway, are you enjoying camping so far?”

This seems to put Yuu in a better mood. They smile, though it’s a bit a strained, and nod.

“I like being out here with all of you,” they say. Riddle blushes, unsure of how to answer. Should he return the sentiment?

Before he can decide, a gust of wind blows through the campsite. A plume of smoke sweeps over him, Yuu, and Grim, and the three erupt into coughs.

Riddle recovers first. He waves the smoke away, clearing his throat, and scoots to sit closer to Silver. He expects Grim and Yuu to follow suit, but…

“Myaa! Yuu, are you okay?!”

Yuu doesn’t answer. They wheeze, shakily rise to their knees, then double back over as another wave of coughs overtakes them.

“Yuu? What’s wrong?!” Riddle scrambles to their side. He wraps an arm around them and fans the smoke away with the other. Yuu’s eyes turn to him, wide and terrified, and Riddle’s heart jumps to his throat – they’re looking to him for help, and he doesn’t even know what’s going on. “Grim, what’s happening?”

“It’s their asthma,” Grim explains, diving head-first into Yuu’s bag. “I need to find their inhaler—”

“What happened?”

Now Silver wakes up. Riddle fills him in, not taking his eyes off Yuu. He tries to pry them upright, to take the pressure off their airways, but they fold against him like a house of cards. Riddle grimaces and rubs their back in an attempt to soothe them. “Grim, the inhaler!”

“Got it!”

Riddle snatches it. Wrenching Yuu upright, he presses the inhaler into their hand, guiding it to their face. They take a generous pull, then collapse against him. While their coughs start to sputter out, their breath is still hoarse and heavy.

“We need to get them away from the smoke,” Silver says. He gently pulls the prefect away from Riddle and into a bridal carry, starting towards the cabin. “Let’s get them to Coach Vargas.”

---

It’s only natural for Coach Vargas to choose him for a special assignment, Sebek muses as he returns to camp with an armful of magic plants. He was the first student to return with a lanternblossom, not to mention his extensive training as Malleus’ personal guard. He’s certainly more capable than anyone (any mere human) on this camping trip. As he approaches the coach’s cabin, he wonders how many bonus points will be added to his grade for this excursion.

“Coach Vargas! I have acquired what you asked of me. I’m sure you’ll find my haul more than sufficient and exceeding expectations!”

“Good work, Zigzolt,” Vargas replies. He gives Sebek a hand-written note. “Here’s the potion we’ll be brewing with those plants. Make sure to follow the instructions to the tee. It’s incredibly important, understand?”

“YESSIR!”

The potion is easy enough. Water, soothewell root, and crushed lanternblossom leaves go into the pot, coming to a low boil before Sebek adds blue moonrose petals and a pinch of ground sagetree bark. Vargas stokes the fireplace. A light blue vapor begins to build, creeping over the sides of the pot. Sebek smiles in self-satisfaction; the vapor means he brewed the potion right, and that means that he’s surely aced this surprise assignment.

“Coach Vargas!”

Silver bursts in, Riddle and Grim in tow. Sebek opens his mouth to scold them – how dare they barge in on his special assignment! – but his eyes drop to the prefect in Silver’s arms and the words die on his tongue. Yuu shivers and pants, coughing here and there, eyes watery and rimmed with dark circles. It’s clear they’re unwell, and suddenly the particulars of this “special assignment” click into place for Sebek.

“Zigvolt, the potion,” Vargas instructs. He plucks the prefect from Silver’s hold and deposits them on a chair. “Upright now, slow deep breaths.”

Sebek wastes no time. He ladles some of the potion into a deep bowl and sets it in front of Yuu, the hot mixture still steaming. Blue, shimmery vapor pours from the sides. The prefect looks to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Sebek fights the urge to scoff. Doesn’t this human know anything about potions?

“Breathe in the vapor,” he instructs.

Yuu looks skeptical. They lean forward and sniff the potion. A moment passes. A look of relief passes their face, and their shoulder slump in relief. They bend over the bowl and take another long breath, soon gulping greedy lungfuls of the shimmering magic. Finally, Yuu relaxes against their chair. The boys watch them intently, as if afraid they might go into another attack.

“Feeling better?” Vargas asks at last. Yuu nods, clearing their throat.

“I’m alright now,” they say. “I’m sorry to make everyone worry.”

“Worry?!” Riddle snaps, face going scarlet. “You couldn’t breathe! We were more than just worried! Why didn’t you tell us you have a respiratory illness?!”

“Lay off,” Grim gripes, but Yuu just shushes him and pats his head. They smile apologetically at Riddle and give a sheepish shrug.

“It just… never came up?”

Sebek, Silver, and Riddle all sigh. What a troublesome prefect, Sebek thinks. He crosses his arms and huffs.

“You should have brought it up,” he scolds. Yuu, for their part, at least has the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” they say again. They offer a small smile. “Thank you all for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done if you all weren’t there.”

Sebek tries not to think about it. Instead, he focuses on cleaning up from the potion process as Silver and Riddle fuss over Yuu. Coach Vargas assigns the Equestrian Club to watch them for the rest of the trip – as if Riddle and Silver wouldn’t be doing that anyway – and Sebek almost, almost complains. Why should he be forced to keep an eye on a mere human? But, he thinks, it isn’t as if he’s incapable – far from it! And Yuu certainly could use his help. Besides, this is just like another special assignment. Just wait until Malleus learns that he singlehandedly (with some help) saved the very child of man his liege has a soft spot for. Surely, he will be most pleased.

It’s decided.

“HUMAN!” he barks. “Fear not. You are now under the watchful eye of the Equestrian Club. When we stand together, no harm shall befall you!”

[avenirdelight]

Weird Life

Son Heungmin

Sonny is dating a famous singer. After his national team got knocked out from the world cup, she posts pictures on Instagram that hints they’re dating. [Requested]

She couldn’t hit the right note. The emotion also wasn’t quite there. She had been trying to record the same bridge over and over again. The bridge was her most favourite part of a song, the most special for her personally. So if her vocals hadn’t reached the perfection that she wanted for it, she wouldn’t move on to the next parts.

“James, my love, I don’t think I can do this now,” she said, letting out a long and heavy sigh. She rubbed her eyes before looking at James, her vocal director, through the glass screen. Poppy, her personal assistant, Cindy, her producer, and Max, her recording engineer were all staring at her. Their eyes showed that they were all getting worried and nervous.

“Sweetheart, we really have to finish this song today,” James said. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do to make it easier for you, I’d gladly do it. If there’s anything I can get you—”

“Just get me my boyfriend,” she cried. “Do we know where he is? Pop, has he landed? Do we have any updates?”

“Not yet, honey. Hey, do you know what? I think we should take a little break.”

Five minutes later, she and Poppy were on the rooftop. She stood near the railings, looking down the busy street, resting both hands on her waist as she took deep breaths, trying to keep herself calm.

“I’ve made a terrible decision, haven’t I?” She asked. “What are they saying, Pop? The fans?”

“You’ve turned off your phone because you don’t want to see anything but now you’re asking me?”

She glanced at Poppy with a little pout. “I can’t get it out of my head. Yeah, I know, I should’ve known better.”

Poppy sighed and scrolled on her phone. Her eyes scanned the tweets from the topic that had been trending for the past two hours. “Son Heung Min Dating” was the keyword.

“‘So the rumours were all true??’, ‘I knew it! The matching bracelet wasn’t a coincidence!’, ‘Remember when she was suddenly in London back in February? She must’ve been visiting Sonny’.” Poppy read a few of the comments. She was reading it casually but she suddenly let out a little gasp. “Look what they’ve figured out! Sonny’s flight! They know he’s coming to Los Angeles.”

“Right. And why would Son Heungmin suddenly fly to Los Angeles? Oh! Guess who else is in Los Angeles? Me!” She said animatedly, flailing her hands around, a sign that she was very stressed out. “They’ve figured that out too, haven’t they?”

“Yeah… Someone spotted you at the airport two days ago, there’s pictures. And they’ve connected the dots.”

She sighed. “God, I’m so stupid,” she said, rubbing her her fingers on her temples. “It was supposed to be just a hint, not a total reveal. Or maybe we shouldn’t have done this at all.”

She had posted some photos on Instagram from her trip to South Korea back in July. Sonny was in almost every picture. His blurry back, a little part of his shoulder, a bit of his arm, but not his face. She’d posted it this morning, just five days after Korea’s campaign in the world cup ended. The caption was a simple “Throwback” with a South Korean flag.

Without a doubt, the post blew up because both Sonny’s and her fans were coming up with their own theories about them dating, that they had been developing for a whole year. It was actually the plan, to slowly reveal their relationship to the public, but it turned out that no matter how much she’d prepared herself for it, it didn’t make it any easier.

“We have planned everything out. Come on, it’s okay, we can handle this. It’s under control,” Poppy tried to reassure her. 

She let out another long, exasperated sigh. “Just please get me my boyfriend, Poppy…”

—

When Sonny arrived almost three hours later, she couldn’t even react. She was slumped on the couch in the studio, covering herself with a warm blanket. She had been just sitting and listening to the song blazing in the room, with vocals that she’d recorded so far that sounded absolutely awful to her. It felt like all her energy was drained out from the stress. But Sonny came in with a smile on his face. He said ‘hi’, reached for her hand, and gently helped her to get up so he could give her the biggest warm hug.

“Have you been seeing everything?” She didn’t even return his greeting or ask about how he was doing. Her mind had gotten too clouded.

“Kevin told me some stuff,” Sonny answered as he soothingly caressed her back. “Everything is fine. We are prepared, our teams are prepared. There’s nothing to worry about.” Poppy and Kevin, Sonny’s assistant, had had a call earlier. Poppy had probably told Kevin about her messy state, the reason why Sonny went straight to the point.

“James, can you please turn the music down? Thanks,” she said to James before getting back to Sonny. “So– We’re still going with the plan? We’re still gonna make the official announcement?”

“Yes, we’re going with the plan,” Sonny said, loosening his arms and letting her go so he could take a look at her face. The stress and worry were still all over her face.

She slightly shook her head as her panicked eyes wandered everywhere. “People are gonna say that this is all just PR. They’ll say I need a boost for my new song and you— I don’t know, maybe they’ll say that you’re riding the world cup wave or something, seeking for more popularity, and—”

“Hey, look at me.” Sonny cut her off, holding her face with his hand, trying to get her to look at him and luckily, he succeeded. “People can say whatever they want. They can say it’s PR, but they will be proven wrong when we get married next year.”

She fell silent as she bit her lower lip. Memories flashed in her mind from those talks they had had. It had started with just her and Sonny, then their families joined in, then Poppy and Kevin joined in, then her label and Sonny’s agent joined in. Both her and Sonny were popular figures in their own world, so it took a lot just to make an announcement about them dating.

“Listen. If you’re not ready—”

“No, no, I am.” She cut him off, shrugging. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I feel like we’ve chosen the wrong timing. Maybe we should’ve waited for another week.”

“It’s okay. We get this done before Premier League starts, before you start filming, then we can carry on. I promise we’ll be fine. Okay?”

She nodded and tip-toed on her feet to steal a kiss. Sonny wrapped his arms around her tight as he kissed her back.

“How are you feeling? I’m sorry the journey ended here for you guys,” she said.

“We did our best. I feel better now that I’m with you,” Sonny answered with his infectious smile plastered on his face.  

“I’m so proud of you.” She gave him a smile, running a hand through his hair.

“Thank you. Now how about we finish the song, yeah?”

—

She finished the song with ease. Partly because she was more collected and less worried, but mostly because her muse was there, watching and supporting her. Less than an hour and she was out of the booth; she finished all the parts, along with the ad-libs and all the layers.

The proud look on Sonny’s face didn’t go unnoticed. He pulled her into a hug and patted her head, saying, “That was amazing. You did really well.”

“Thank you. Do you like the song?”

“I think it might be my new favourite.”

“You heard it, guys. The muse approved!” She grinned at Sonny, before turning around and shifting her gaze back and forth between James and Cindy. “All good, yeah? Can we wrap this up? Can I have my two days-off now?”

Everyone agreed that they could wrap up the recording session and she wasted no time on leaving the studio. She hopped on the backseat of the car with Sonny, and Nolan, her driver, drove them to the hotel that they would stay in for the next two days.

Their hands were linked. She rested her head on his shoulder as he looked out the window, watching life happening on Los Angeles’ streets. She, once in a while, looked up to get a glimpse of his face.

She knew that Sonny was jet-lagged and tired. He had flown to two different countries in the past few days. Make it three when he flies back to London in three days. Between his packed schedule, he still made an effort to see her since she wouldn’t go home for another two weeks; a couple of weeks ago it was her who had flown to Qatar to see him. It wasn’t always like this, they weren’t always insanely busy and were in different time-zones. But sometimes it did take a lot to make their relationship work, so every time they had a chance, they would always try to make the best out of it.

“What a weird life that we have…” She mumbled. It was enough to get Sonny’s attention.

“I think it’s a blessing,” he commented. “I mean, I wouldn’t even have met you if I wasn’t an international footballer.”

She giggled, sitting up so she could take a good look at his face. “Yeah. Wouldn’t have met you if I was back home helping my mum run her tea shop… You’re right. We’re living our dreams.”

Sonny stared at her in silence with a fond gaze. They’d been dating for four years, but Sonny still could make her heart skip a beat with no effort. Without saying any words, he leaned in to capture her lips, sending the butterflies in her stomach flying, also with absolutely no effort.

“Hey,” he said when he found her eyes again.

“Hmm?”

“From the very beginning, we know nothing is gonna be easy. But we’ve made it this far. We’re a good team, you know? We just always need to be a good team. And I’ll always try to be a good teammate for you.”

Her lips perked into a small smile. “I know.” She nodded and Sonny smiled back. She rested her head back on his shoulder as she felt Sonny’s thumb caressing her hand.

It was indeed a weird life that they were living. Dating in public? Casually announcing their relationship to friends and family? It didn’t work like that for them. Privacy was a luxurious thing but they couldn’t even complain because they were incredibly privileged to even have this weird life.

But she was grateful that she had Sonny. Someone who understood, someone who was willing to do more, someone that she could hold on to when life got a little bit too insane. Life could take the craziest turns but she knew that in the end everything was gonna be fine, because she had her teammate. And he would always be there, holding her hand and walking beside her, to the future that they dream together.

—

sometimes i feel like i put in too much details and that’s why sometimes it takes forever for me to finish a fic, but people tell me that it’s what they love about my fics. i think it’s not the first time i mention this but yeah, i’m in a dilemma.

i enjoyed writing this one🥺 this might be my new favourite! thank you for everyone who had been reading and requesting sonny fics during this world cup! the demand was high!😆 hope you enjoyed it<3

My Masterlist🤍

[toweroftickles]

REIMAGINED TICKLING #4: The Shmorgasbord

A lot of times when I see a tickling scene in a movie or TV show, I imagine how fun it would be to see other characters in those same situations. You know, like "Oh I wanna see X character get tickled like that." So I thought I'd try writing a few drabbles where I'll take a famous tickle scene and reinterpret it with new characters in new settings.

This is Part 4 of an ongoing series…I had a bunch of ideas for shorter crossover scenes, so they’re all smashed together!

Rescuers Down Under/Kid Icarus

"WAHOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The warm spring wind whipped through Pit's locks. His foot carved a canyon slice into the top of a low-hanging downy cloud as he soared through the sky with the speed of a rollercoaster. But the Power of Flight wasn't giving lift to his own feeble wings. This time, Pit was instead dangling in the breeze, carried aloft by the arms of the newly-reborn Phoenix.

In its adult form, the flaming bird had once been much more gargantuan...just one of its mighty talons was bigger than Pit himself...but Pit liked this younger reincarnated version better. For one thing, it didn't try to eat or step on him. It was the perfect size to grasp the angel boy's biceps and airlift him across the sprawling human continent below.

What a rush!

"And unlike some of us, HE doesn't have a five-minute time limit." Viridi's snarky voice reverberated in between Pit's ears, descended from on high as if she were speaking right next to him. "Just imagine, if you came to work for the Forces of Nature instead..."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Palutena, Goddess of Light, uncharacteristically smarmy, butted in. "I'm sure my Captain would rather have five minutes of flight and MY wisdom at his disposal, than that overgrown turkey and YOURS."

"What?!"

"I-I'm perfectly happy with everything you both can do for me, Lady Palutena....Viridi..." Pit insisted, desperate to break the tension.

Unseen by either, Viridi rolled her eyes…and her giant new pet followed suit.

Suddenly, Pit gasped. A sharp claw stabbed at his belly, but it wasn't trying to tear him open. The Phoenix's digit was scratching his ribcage, in between and underneath the bones, pressing into him like he was a squeeze toy.

"HAA-Ha!! Heehee-Heehee-Hee!!! Pff! HngHng-HNG!!" Pit's voice cracked as he burst into loud, uncontrolled spasms. He flailed his desperate limbs around, kicking in all directions, and the Phoenix could barely maintain its grip on the squirmy centurion. He looked like a jumping bean having a seizure.

“Sheesh, what’s wrong with you?” Viridi scoffed.

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Palutena giggled, a knowing twinkle in her voice. “Pit’s very ticklish. Aren’t you, Pit?”

“AHH! *gasp* Hmhm-Hng!! Hee; n-hohohoheh! *heave* Ha-Huh…AH! You’re poking; you’re pohokihing!!” the hysterical angel boy squeaked. Tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes.

No! No no no stop! I'm gonna fall!!!

The Phoenix wouldn’t quit; its talon was jabbing into a soft spot above Pit’s liver, clawing up and down along his side, tracing circles around his belly button…the goddesses were laughing as they watched him gleefully wiggle…

It was only a few more moments before the tickling stopped, but to Pit, it felt like ages. He slumped over in the bird’s arms, struggling to catch his breath in the harsh wind. His tummy was sore.

“WHEW……whoooo….Ha….Ha-ha…”

"Heehee...awww, are you ok, little guy?"

Pit blushed. He'd gotten used to Palutena teasing him over the years, but it was always worse when someone like Viridi was around.

"Heh-Heh...whew...yeah; I don't want him to do that again though!"

"Well don't wiggle too much, or you'll end up flat as a pancake!" Viridi giggled smugly.

"Mmmm...pancakes...."

Few things could pull down Pit's chipper mood. Barrel rolls and aerial somersaults carried him on the wind and toward the sun, no longer besieged by Underworld forces...toward home, where breakfast awaited him.

It always felt good to fly.

Samurai Pizza Cats/Street Fighter

The noonday spring sun blazed proudly overhead. Sporting her green-and-orange summer vacation duds, Makoto looked like a lost Mario Brother (er, Sister). But she felt like a change. After all, this wasn't the usual Shadaloo-funded recruitment tourney with a massive prize pool and worldwide media coverage. This was a proper, no-holds barred, pure-cut street brawl...the only rules this time were "no biting" and "no dismemberment." Tons of combatants were trying out all new weapons, all new fighting styles...anything they could imagine. But Makoto? She was still determined to be just as great as Ryu in her own ways. Only her honor mattered.

Defiantly twisting her hat, she stamped her sneaker into the dusty marketplace street. A chalk ring was drawn around as the innumerable food stalls were pushed apart. A crowd of hundreds gathered to watch, and out of the teeming mass stepped a slightly more solidified mass...one named Rufus.

(“Waddled” may be more accurate than “stepped.”)

“Hey, Rufus! Whatcha hiding behind your back?” Makoto asked him, genuinely friendly as usual. “Don’t be shy; I’m sure you’ve got something awesome!” Her question, though, was met with something truly bizarre.

On the ends of Rufus’ hands were rubbery fake thumbs, easily longer than his other fingers, and so round they were almost teardrop-shaped.

“Rufus is fighting with an apparently all-new and ‘totally awesome’ style that he did not feel like disclosing to our governing body…I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but I don’t think any of you will mind if I nap through this one, folks.” The fight’s announcer wasn’t even pretending to take that walrus-in-a-unitard seriously.

"Just you wait! Yeah! You’re cool, man, but I’m the best! That's right!"

Makoto stared awkwardly at the burly biker’s new prosthetics. Thumb-wrestling? Is he gonna try to squeeze my head like a tick?

Rufus was a doofus…(Huh; I should remember that one, she mentally noted), but he was also powerful. No time to drop her guard. She flexed her muscles in a vicious chop and readied a kokutsu dachi stance, tensed like a spring about to pop.

"Well whatever kinda new gimmicks you've picked up, my Rindo-kan karate is gonna tackle the challenge head-on!"

DING! The starting bell! The match was on!

Makoto immediately swung her leg out into a chest-high kick, but instead of guarding or leaping away (as she expected), Rufus grabbed her ankles and slammed her against the ground like she was a rag doll. It was too quick for her to retaliate…with an uncomfortable belching grunt, the bubble of muscly lard that was Rufus pounded Makoto into the dirt. His gut rolled over her thighs, trapping her face-down and immobile.

"Gahhhh, get off me! Fight fair!" Makoto yelped, clawing at the dirt.

"HA HA HA!" Rufus bellowed in triumph. "You are the first, and like, only, to fall victim to..." he whipped out his enormous rubber thumbs..."RUFUS' TWO-FINGER EXPLODING HEART MASSAGE PARLOR TECHNIQUE!"

The nodulose bulbs pressed down intensely into the backs of Makoto's sides, right around the firm, muscular lumbar tissue, and rubbed in tight semicircles. Her nerves buzzed to life, and even she couldn’t stop what happened next.

"Pp-HHAA, HAHA-HAHA HAHA!! AH-Ha Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Haaa!!!"

It tickled! It tickled like crazy! Makoto lost all carefully-meditated control of her body and just exploded into wild, hysterical laughter. Her gravelly voice scraped at the inside of her throat, blasting out desperate shrieks from deep in her lungs.

"You think I got no skills to bring up against Ken Masters, dude? Now all I gotta do is get you punks in my way to loosen up first!" Those giant thumbs kneaded hard into Makoto's lower back with brutal strength. They just kept rubbing and squeezing every inch of her quivery sides.

"NOOO; HAHA-Haha!! Stop it, that tickles!! HA-HA HA-HA HA!!! No more, no mohohore!" she screamed furiously. Jetstreams of angry tears sprayed from her tightly-clenched eyes. She kicked and slapped the earth and thrashed like a bronco, but the poor girl couldn't wrench herself free of Rufus' massive weight. Her face was red from laughing. She didn't even notice it when Rufus’ thighs lifted off of her and allowed her to roll around on the floor...nor did she notice when she tumbled outside of the chalk circle that marked the arena’s edge, curled into a helpless fetal ball.

DING!!

"Ring out! Rufus is the winner!"

There was no applause. (Well, apart from Rufus' girlfriend Candy, who whooped enthusiastically in her annoying dollar-store Harley Quinn accent.) Only gasps. Mostly, everyone was just confused.

"What?! No, th-that's not fair! What kind of cheap tactics are those?!" Makoto shouted, her voice wavering from embarrassment and fury as she stood back up on wobbly legs. Her sides and her lower back were tingling as if numb, still reeling from the intense "massage" they'd just received. Her cheeks were scarlet, her breathing raspy and hard. She'd never felt so humiliated in front of the other combatants.

"Sorry, Miss Makoto, but thumb-tickling isn't against the rules in this tournament. We unfortunately have to disqualify you." The announcer's voice was firm, but sympathetic over the loudspeaker. And everyone had heard it. There was a murmur snaking throughout the crowd, as well as her fellow Street Fighters.

Makoto's stomach sank. Her lip quivering and her brows furrowed, she turned on her heel and slowly walked off. The brim of her cap shielded her eyes.

An instant one-punch KO would have been better.

Tarzan/Luca

It all happened so fast. Hot, blinding light washed over Luca, drying him instantly. For the first time in his life, there was no liquid cooling him. His face fell against a bed of rough pebbles. He whipped around like...well...a fish out of water. But he wasn't just a fish anymore.

His scales were gone.

In their place was an eerie, pinkish-white smooth surface. His blue cranial scales had retracted, replaced by a messy mop of something brown and seaweed-like. He screamed. He covered his eyes. He didn't even have time to process what was happening, so consumed was he by paranoia. But the kid nearby, who had pulled him out, just sat on a nearby rock, smirking and completely placid.

“AHHHH!! Help meeeee!” Luca wailed.

“First time?”

“Of course it is!!! I’m a good kid!!” His parents were gonna kill him!

“Hey, relax. Breathe.”

But Luca wasn’t paying attention. In the throes of his panic attack, his strange new body lurched forward and fell onto the once-purple human boy.

"Yah!"

“And what are THESE?!” Luca squeaked in terror, his voice cracking.

“Uhh, yeah, yeah, I know; no scales. See, they’re…yep, that’s it.” Luca’s new friend (?) was clearly a bit weirded out.

The tan-skinned boy accidentally yanked his wrist away from Luca with too much force…with little warning, his momentum sent him flying backwards off the rock he was sitting on, and he landed on his back in the beach pebbles. Luca shuffled forward on his elbows, still in a blind frenzy, until he was halted in his tracks by the strange kid’s right foot pressing against his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, whoa, kid; calm down,” the other stammered.

“WE HAVE FIVE FINGERS AND TOES?! How do we control that many at once?! Where are our webs?!” Luca grabbed the other boy’s foot and began to pull on & inspect the digits, and suddenly, the kid fell backwards in a fit of crazy, high-pitched giggling.

“PFFF, Heehee-Heehee-Heehee! *gasp* DAHH! No no no, dohohon’t! That tick-hlhl-hlhl-hles! *gasp* Heheh-Haha-Hahuh! No g-het ohoff, get off my tohoes, gehet off my toes, G-HET OFF MY TOES!”

Out of nowhere, the boy threw his foot out and smacked Luca right in the chin. Luca sailed back through the air until he crashed flat on his back in the shallow incoming wave, and the wet sea formed a perfect halo of green scales around his newly-human face. He was dazed. But as he laid there, attempting to come out of his stunned state, the world slowed down, and Luca finally looked at the surface for the first time.

Moving air brushed through the plants, making them wave back at him. Some kind of strange fish squawked and flapped their fins miles above his head. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

“Well…isn’t it great?”

“No! I-I-it’s bad, and…I’m not supposed to be up here! Good day!" Not saying another word, Luca disappeared back beneath the waves.

It took him a few moments to realize that he left his staff behind.

James & The Giant Peach/The Bad Guys

The Bad Guys had a bit of a tradition going. On each member’s birthday, no matter what, that intrepid burglar was granted once-a-year permission to take over from Mr. Wolf and plan a heist herself. (A tradition NOT observed by a certain serpent.) And Miss Tarantula had not-very-subtly been dropping hints about the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s fortuitous reopening for about three weeks.

Wolf swallowed nervously as the whole group, dressed in black bandit jumpsuits, crawled through chilly steel ductwork beneath the building’s entrance. (All of them except Shark…he was driving the getaway van, and also disguised as a nun driving a bookmobile.)

Mr. Snake grumbled. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Webs, but she wasn’t very transparent about what exactly her plan was, and this was a brand new museum. They’d robbed the old one plenty of times, but the thing had been totally redesigned from the inside out. Just as he had the thought “We’re clueless,” he bonked into the end of the trail. Light streaked in from a grate above.

“Alright, sweetheart, I guess it’s all you,” Wolf said. Neither Snake or Tarantula was sure which one he was talking to, but they both proceeded regardless.

Quietly, Mr. Snake lifted the grate with his head, and it slid to the ground with a metal clunk. He was in the dead center of a blue moonlight patch shining down from a rose window. The polished, disinfected scent of marble and ancient vases enveloped him. They were in the cavernous white atrium. Just ahead was the grand staircase leading up into the various gallery wings. A quiet little security drone, about the size and shape of a black thumb drive, cast its blinking red light out onto the floor, humming to itself. There was nowhere that the reptilian safecracker could move without tripping an alarm.

“Ok, Webs, so what’s your brilliant plan now?” Mr. Snake hissed down in his signature sarcastic drawl.

“Glad you asked, big guy!” she told him through his earpiece. “Are ya ready? …you’re gonna be the bait!”

“WHHHHAAAT?!?” Snake’s furious outburst echoed all around the museum.

“Shhhh!!!” hissed Mr. Wolf.

“Who do you think you are?!”

“Snake, you have to trigger the motion alarms!” their master planner snapped.

"Why me?!"

"Hey; you guys said I was in charge! Me! Now trust me on this!!"

“Ohmygod I’m gonna fart,” Piranha muttered under his panicked breath.

“Are you nuts?! Absolutely not! I’m not doin that! And you can’t make me!”

“Oh yeah?!” Miss Tarantula laughed wickedly and jumped up onto Snake’s midsection. Chuckling to herself, she started tapping her extremely fuzzy legs at sonic speeds, the same way she used her “beast mode” keyboard to hack a vault, along the dead center of her companion's elongated body…and suddenly, Mr. Snake began to wiggle.

“Kkheh! Heh…Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Heh…Hey! G-het off me!” he yelled down at her. He was trying to maintain his snarky demeanor and keep still, but Webs had found his ticklish spot. He was writhing angrily in all directions, involuntarily bashing his head into the museum floor. “HHHEHeh Ha-Ha! Hn-Hn Hn! St-hop it!”

Right on cue. The red lights snapped on and the blaring museum siren roared to life.

“Alright, guys, get ready; they’re coming!” Wolf commanded his team with a hint of nervousness. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all.

“Cootchiecootchiecoo……….ahcootchiecootchiecoo…” Tarantula teased Snake in her low, raspy voice, giggling as she danced and watched him squirm.

A dozen truncheon-brandishing security guards burst through he doors and thundered down the marble stairs with a terrible roar.

"Halt! Stay where you are!!"

Every second they grew closer to the helpless constrictor that lured them in a puddle of light.

“GKHNNN!! K-Heh, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! You…you stupid jerks!! Hnuh…This isn’t fair; Ha-Ha Ha-Ha HA!!”

All of a sudden and with a violent, involuntary contortion, Mr. Snake twisted himself out of Tarantula's grip and leapt high into the air until he cast a shadow down on the charging cops, and they could only stare, bewildered, at the crooked and cackling-faced snakeskin he left behind.

The mob were barreling down far too fast to alter their course now. They all stumbled over one another as they rammed full-throttle through Mr. Snake’s abandoned skin….and straight into the almost-invisible web of patented tarantula-silk nanothread that stretched across the entire atrium behind it. They were already trapped in the net by the time Snake returned to the floor with a splat.

Bingo.

“Alright, guys, let’s get moving! We’ve only got a couple minutes!” Tarantula called triumphantly as she hopped out of the hole in the floor.

“Webs, you’re a genius.” Mr. Wolf climbed up too, followed by Piranha, and the group charged into the museum proper.

“Gah! I am going to EAT you!” Mr. Snake roared angrily at Tarantula.

“Ooo, yeah, scary; I’ll just make sure to tickle you from the inside on my way down!” she laughed at him.

Her plan had gone off without a hitch. By the time the local police were finally dispatched to the source of the alarm, every silkskreen print and multi-limbed Hindu statue in the museum was already gone. Millions in art, down the drain.

And in a bookmobile across town, there were four gleeful partygoers, popping corks and celebrating a night of revelry...

....along with one very sour snake.

[anywaymuahahahaha]

｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡

Chapter Three: Snack Run! 🍎

Heading towards the village on Kirby’s behalf, Magolor and Elfilin flew across Dream Land together. They sped through the green valleys and over the prairies. After a while they came to a stop for a brief moment. From where they were, everything in Dream Land was perfectly visible. Elfilin was in pure astonishment. Magolor smiled and nodded.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“It sure is!”

“I travel a lot…but this is my home now. It’s my favorite in the whole universe!”

Magolor pointed towards an open field in the distance.

“See that? That’s where Kirby and I first met! He was so quick to help me when I was in trouble!”

“You were in trouble?”

“That’s right. Kirby saved me from a terrible fate…Things got…a little hectic…I thought I was a goner for sure! But that’s a story for another day!” Magolor said with a laugh.

“You know…Kirby saved me once. A couple times actually! He’s so brave! I don’t know what I’d have done without him.”

“Yeah, he really is the best isn’t he? He’s one of the very few people who gave me a second chance.”

“A second chance?”

“Yeah…You see, Little Dude…some folks around here…aren’t quite as welcoming to me as Kirby has been…I guess I didn't really make a good first impression when I first arrived here in Dream Land...”

“Really!?…What happened?”

“Well…let’s just say…” Magolor appeared uncomfortable about the subject. He grew silent and then laughed nervously.

“You know what?…how about I tell you all about that later! Right now, we need to focus on getting that fruit for Kirby!” Magolor floated overhead and surveyed the village.

“Follow me, Little Dude!” They both took off fast through the fields of Dream Land. Magolor showed Elfilin around the Whispy Woods, showed him the Float Islands down by the oceans, and took him through the famous Bubbly Clouds. Elfilin was taken aback by the splendor of it all.

“Wow…everything here is so beautiful!” he said.

“I couldn’t agree more! I can definitely see why Kirby loves this place so much.” Magolor looked around and nodded. He pointed towards an area below and smiled.

“There’s our stop, Little Dude. You’ll love this place! It’s the real deal!” Magolor lead Elfilin towards what appeared to be a small outdoor kiosk selling various fruits and vegetables. There were crates of fruit for sale everywhere. Oranges, bananas, peaches, and plenty of apples, which Kirby specifically requested.

“If you want the best fruit Dream Land has to offer this is the place to go!” Magolor and Elfilin began browsing the vast selection. The shopkeeper in charge noticed Magolor and his expression soured.

“Oh, no! Not you again!” He said stomping towards them.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Magolor, you are not allowed at my shop!”

He flailed his arms at Magolor in an attempt to shoo him away. Elfilin backed away nervously.

“Yo, relax! I’ll have you know, I’m here on official Dream Land business!” Magolor exclaimed proudly.

“You were sent by the King!?”

“Nope, even better! I’ve been sent by Kirby himself!”

“Kirby sent you?…I’ll never understand why he chooses to associate with someone like you!”

“Kirby and I are best friends as a matter of fact! I’m actually here to pick up some fruit for him! So…what do ya got today?”

“Nothing for you! Beat it!” The shopkeeper yelled angrily. Elfilin scurried to over to Magolor’s side.

“Magolor, maybe we should go…” he tried to pull him away but Magolor was undeterred.

“Don’t worry, Little Dude, I’ll handle this.” Elfilin stood back and watched as Magolor boldly approached the shopkeeper.

"After everything Kirby has done for the people of this country, why would you deny him the delicious food he craves?"

"If Kirby needs fruit, he can come here and get it himself, just like he does every day! Why would he send someone like you here! Doesn’t he know you’re banned?!” The shopkeeper then pointed to a placard displayed near the front of the shop. It said DO NOT ALLOW ON PREMISES above a crude picture of Magolor. He glared at the unflattering depiction of himself and sighed deeply. He turned away from the shopkeeper and spoke softly.

“Well…I promised Kirby I wouldn’t say anything but…” Magolor picked up an apple and clutched it tightly.

“Truth be told….Kirby is….dying!” Magolor said dramatically throwing his arms in the air.

“D-dying!?” The shopkeeper exclaimed.

“That’s right! Kirby is deathly ill. Why, he’s bedridden even as we speak.”

“But…he was just here yesterday! He looked fine to me!”

“Oh, he took a turn for the worst this morning! It breaks my heart to see him in such a state. I’ve actually been staying with him and taking care of him during his time of need. It’s not easy but…that’s what friends are for!” Magolor said with a determined expression on his face. Elfilin stood by watching with a puzzled look on his face.

….Kirby isn’t sick? Why is Magolor lying about something like this?…

Magolor continued his dramatics.

“Why, just this morning, when he finally mustered enough strength to speak…he took my hand…”

Magolor then dramatically took the shopkeepers hand in his own.

“He looked at me with those big, blue eyes…He said…Magolor…my dearest friend…you’ve taken such good care of me! The only thing that can save me now is a delicious piece of fruit! A red, juicy apple! Then, and only then will I have the strength to carry on! Please, Magolor…do me this favor…my closest friend…” Magolor began to choke back tears. The shopkeeper rolled his eyes.

“Oh, cut it out, Magolor! I’m not buying your fake story or your fake tears!”

Magolor clenched his fists in anger.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like this!” He then turned to Elfilin.

“You’ll back me up, right Little Dude?”

Elfilin was caught off guard by Magolors sudden interjection.

“Oh…well…um…” Elfilin nervously approached the two of them. He nodded at the shopkeeper with a smile.

“Hello sir, my name is Elfilin! I’m also Kirby’s best-…I’m one of Kirby’s friends! Magolor is, uh…” he glanced over at Magolor’s who was giving him a desperate expression.

“He’s telling the truth!…Kirby is..he’s very sick! He asked us to come here and get him some fruit! He’s really looking forward to it!” The shopkeeper looked bewildered at Elfilin.

"Is he really telling the truth? Kirby is seriously ill?" Elfilin returned his gaze to Magolor, who nodded with tears in his eyes.

“…Yes.” Elfilin looked down sadly.

“Well…I am very sorry to hear what has become of Kirby! Does the King know about this?!” The shopkeeper asked.

Elfilin glanced to Magolor for direction once again, and he promptly nodded his head "yes."

“…Yeah…he knows…in fact..” Magolor gestured for Elfilin to continue his story.

“In fact the King has already visited Kirby and sent his best wishes!” Magolor smiled as he gave Elfilin a thumbs up. Elfilin returned the smile before soon returning to his solemn demeanor.

“Well…then by all means, please take what you’ll need. However…I’ll only serve you-Not him!” The shopkeeper angrily pointed at Magolor who appeared to be putting eye-drops in his eyes in order to mimic crying. He then dropped the bottle and attempted to act like he didn’t see it.

“Go stand over there!” He said shooing Magolor aside. He angrily rolled his eyes and backed away from the kiosk leaving Elfilin make the purchase himself.

“Oh, dear. Poor, Kirby…” the shopkeeper began as he handed Elfilin a large sack.

“I’ll have to come visit him tonight and send him my wishes.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Magolor shouted from afar. “As Kirby’s caretaker I’m allowing only close family and friends and I’m sorry to say you don’t make the cut!”

The shopkeeper scowled at Magolor but ignored him as Elfilin filled his bag full of all kinds of different fruits.

Look how delicious everything here looks! Kirby’s sure gonna love all this!

Elfilin filled his sack to the brim and waved to the shopkeeper and smiled happily.

“Thank you so much! Kirby is gonna be so happy!” Elfilin turned away to leave but the shopkeeper stopped him.

“Woah there, young man!…You can’t just take all that for free! Here’s your bill!” He handed Elfilin a small receipt. He took it and and looked up at him sadly.

“…A bill?…But I…I don’t have any money!” Elfilin said. The shopkeeper nodded his head slowly and took the sack of fruit away from Elfilin. Magolor glanced over with discontent.

“I’m sorry, young man. But if you don’t have any money you’re gonna have to put all this back…”

Magolor grew furious as the shopkeeper took away Elfilin’s fruit.

Who does this jerk think he think he is? After everything Kirby has done for the people of this country?…

Elfilin panicked as he sought to come up with a solution.

“But…what about Kirby!” He exclaimed loudly.

“Don’t you care that he’s sick? You wouldn’t deprive Kirby of food over something as silly as money would you?”

“Alright, I tell you what…” the shopkeeper handed Elfilin one single red apple.

“Kirby can have this apple for free. That’s all I’m willing to give you! Look, I’m sorry to hear about Kirby not feeling well. But this is a business! I can’t give someone as gluttonous as Kirby free fruit! The guy’s great and all- but I just can’t afford it! I’m confident he’ll pull through. He always does!”

Magolor began to tremble with anger.

ONE APPLE!?!…Thats the best he can do for someone as important as Kirby!?…and on his death bed no less!…

He clenched his fists and scowled angrily at the shopkeeper.

Perhaps this moron should be taught a lesson…

Elfilin was well aware of Kirby's voracious appetite, and one apple wouldn’t be enough for him. Not by a long shot. Not to mention Bandana Waddle Dee as well. He couldn’t come back to them empty handed like this.

“Magolor…what should I do?” He whispered over to Magolor but to Elfilins surprise he was gone.

“Magolor?…” he looked around desperately but it appeared that Magolor had vanished completely.

Elfilin felt the ground begin to shake. He could hear gasps coming from behind him. The shopkeeper and Elfilin both turned around to see all of the shop's fruit crates were floating in the air.

“Wha?!…What is the meaning of this!?” The shopkeeper exclaimed. He looked up and saw a black hole above his shop was beginning to suck up all of the fruit and sending everything else flying all over the place. Elfilin froze in panic.

Woah, is that a black hole!? Where did that come from!?

Elfilin began to panic as he frantically searched for Magolor.

“Magolor!?! Where are you!?” He yelled over the chaos. Fruit was being flung everywhere, and the sky darkened to the point that it appeared that Dream Land was about to be hit by a devastating storm. Elfilin froze in fear as this storm reminded him of that terrifying moment he nearly watched two planets collide. Citizens who were out and about began to panic as it appeared Dream Land was now under attack.

What am I gonna do!?…Did that black hole suck up Magolor somehow and take him away!? Oh, no!…This is terrible!…

Just as Elfilin began to panic over what happened to Magolor, he suddenly appeared right next to him holding a large sack stuffed full of fruit. He then handed Elfilin an empty one. Magolor wasn’t phased one bit by the turmoil going on around them. In fact, he almost seemed amused by it.

“Here, Little Dude!” He whispered as he gently nudged Elfilin towards a pile of displaced fruit on the ground.

“Magolor! You’re okay!! Hey, did you see that black hole back there?! What should we do!?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! Just grab some fruit and let’s go!” Magolor said anxiously.

Elfilin gave him a worried glance.

“You want me to…steal this?”

“It’s not stealing! It’s for a good cause! Besides, that ingrate tried to charge someone like Kirby money when Kirby deserves to have anything he desires for free! Wouldn’t you agree, Little Dude?”

“Magolor, I don’t know…Stealing?…“ Elfilin looked down nervously.

“He won’t even notice we took anything! As you can see, he seems to have his hands full at the moment…” Magolor motioned to the shopkeeper, who was busy picking up all the fruit and vegetables that had fallen all over the place. He was paying no attention to Magolor and Elfilin.

“Magolor…I don’t think I can do this…”

“Hurry, Little Dude! Kirby’s waiting! We can’t let him down, can we!?” Magolors eyes shined bright as he leaned in closer to Elfilin’s face.

“He won’t be mad! I promise!” Magolor winked at him. Elfilin peered deep into his eyes and sensed some kind of sincerity in them. He knew Magolor's heart was in the right place, but this didn’t feel like the right way to convey it…

“After all” Magolor continued, “We didn't cause that mysterious black hole to appear! Yikes, what a freak accident! We should return to Kirby’s house fast before something like that happens again! Here…I’ll help you fill this sack!” Magolor snatched the sack Elfilin was holding and quickly loaded it with as much fruit as the bag could handle. He handed it back to Elfilin and smiled happily. It was so heavy that Elfilin struggled to take hold of it.

“I think Kirby will be very pleased!” Magolor said with a nod.

"Hey, you two!" The shopkeeper and other nearby residents became aware of the two of them attempting to flee with the stolen fruit.

Magolor took Elfilin by the hand and quickly sped off with the sacks of fruit in tow. The shopkeeper chased after them swinging his fists angrily in the air.

“CURSE YOU, MAGOLORRRRR!!!” He yelled.

Magolor stopped for a brief moment and turned to laugh at the shopkeeper’s tantrum.

“Thank you for the fruit! Kirby sends his regards!” He waved and then quickly sped off once again.

Elfilin and Magolor both flew as fast as they could through Dream Land. Magolor moved quickly, but Elfilin was able to keep up. They drove further and further away from the village, eventually coming to a halt to collect their breath. Magolor smiled at Elfilin who seemed to be slightly distraught from the ordeal.

“Nice job back there, Little Dude!” Magolor said as he pat Elfilin on the head.

“Look at all this delicious fruit! I sure hope you’re hungry!” Magolor giggled as he rummaged through his ill-gotten gains.

Elfilin sighed, regretfully looking down at the sack of stolen fruit.

“What’s the problem?…Aren’t you excited about all these goodies we managed to snag?”

“Well…I guess…it’s just that…”

“The audacity of that jerk…to charge Kirby for fruit…has he forgotten what Kirby has done for the people this land?! Without Kirby there would be no fruit to sell! It wasn’t ideal…but it had to be done! Maybe next time he won’t be so foolish…” Magolor said snickering.

"What a mess that thing caused...” Elfilin was still very concerned about the sudden black hole that appeared earlier. “Should we go back and help that guy?” He said staring anxiously behind them.

“And keep Kirby waiting?!” Magolor exclaimed with a gasp.

"We're already taking much longer than I expected! Thanks to that ungrateful moron running that fruit stand, Kirby could be suffering from starvation already!" He said while feverishly pacing about.

"Should we tell Kirby about that black hole we saw, Magolor? Maybe he’ll know where it came from!”

“NO!-I mean…We don’t need to get Kirby concerned with something so trivial when he’s trying to relax and enjoy himself with his friends!”

“But that black hole-“

“Little Dude…trust me. I live here. I see things like this all the time. That black hole you saw back there? That was nothing…Folks around here are numb to it at this point.”

“Numb to it? Really?” Elfilin said a bit surprised.

“Oh, sure…and that was just a little one, too! It’s nothing these folks haven’t seen before! Believe me, Little Dude, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Magolor gave Elfilin a comforting nod. Something about the way Magolor looked at him made him feel like everything was going to be all right. The way he handled such a frightening situation with such quick thinking. He admired that Magolor seemed to always have Kirby’s best interests at heart. He could clearly see he cared a lot about Kirby. But…he couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to Magolor than he was leading on. He suspected that Magolor may be keeping something a secret…something…dark. Could it be the circumstances surrounding his meeting with Kirby? When that was brought up earlier, he did become rather quiet...and Bandana Waddle Dee has made several remarks about Magolor’s character as well as not seeming to get along with him…What was Magolor trying to hide? Elfilin was determined to find out.

“So what do you say, Little Dude. Ready to head back?” Magolor said with a smile.

Elfilin nodded, gripping the fruit sack tightly.

“I’m right behind you, Magolor!”

“I’m gonna go even faster this time! Think you can handle it?” Magolor said with a sly grin.

“I can show you some of my cool moves!” Magolor said as he twirled about.

“I can handle it! In fact…” Elfilin laughed and then quickly sped off leaving Magolor behind.

Magolor gasped as he watched Elfilin fly off without him. Elfilin giggled as he flew as fast as he could towards Kirby’s house. Magolor sped past him not too long after. He quickly surpassed Elfilin who in turn used all his energy to catch back up with Magolor. He finally caught back up with him and they flew side by side down the fields of the countryside. Elfilin cast a glance over to Magolor, who was staring straight ahead. He then noticed Elfilin watching him. He winked at him and took his hand. Magolor then sped up significantly the two of them began to their journey back to Kirby’s house with their newly acquired fruit.

｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡

[previous chapter]

[table of contents]

[next chapter] (COMING SOON)

[embe95]

Saturday

Synopsis: Mac's a good guy, okay? Well, I mean, he's the only one who cares about me... right? But then along comes Felix, who just changes everything.

Felix, again... He's just lovely to write for, idk man. This took waaaaay longer than I thought it would. And it is LONG. 6,800 words, jeepers.

Warnings: emotionally abusive relationship (reader has a toxic ex), cursing, talk of sex (not explicit) but yeah, here we are

Late again! Fuck… fuck Y/N, you can’t keep doing this!

I cover my face with a pillow, groan and stagger up quickly even though my body begs me to catch up on my sleep some more. Late… I’m late. Again. Minho is going to slice my head clean off.

Where- oh right, there…

”Y/N?” I hear his groggy voice from the messy bed. It’s covered with regret from corner to corner.

Fuck. Not again.

”Mac! You’re up!” I turn, grinning with panic, arms still flailing around to try and grab my clothes.

Mac leans up on his elbows, toned biceps flexing, hair a mess, and so it all comes back to me.

I’m at his house again. Why, why, why do I keep doing this?

I pull on my sweats, grateful that some part of me must have considered the fact that I have practice today.

This is not at all surprising. I came here after an anxiety attack and we had sex. Disappointing, yes, both as a decision and as an activity, but not surprising.

”You have practice again?” Mac’s voice sounds like a chain saw, but his tone is nonchalant. He’s gonna ask when he can see me next. I’m already bugged by the question.

”Mhmm… yeah.”

Where is the damn- oh yeah, there.

I pull my shirt on.

”When can we meet up?”

”Mac, listen, this was fun, but I don’t think-”

”Yeah, yeah, just stop. You say the same shit every time. Just face it, it’s not like you’re gonna find someone better. What we have is fine.”

”What we ha- You know what? Not now. I’m late. We’ll talk later.”

Mac’s reply ”see you tonight” rings in my ears as a disheartening taunt, a threat, a promise and, unfortunately, most likely a fact.

The city streets are filled with people who just can’t seem to understand that they are in my way and not moving quickly enough. The ride on the bus takes longer than it usually does. Seoul flies by, colours, sounds, smells all mixing together. What if I don't see Mac tonight? What if I do? Will he be angry if I'm alone? If I decide to be by myself will I end up going back anyway?

My body is tense and I check the time every few seconds, half waiting and half dreading the famous message I’m about to receive.

| What degree would you like me to set the air fryer to?

Actually, no. That one would be Minho when he’s not in his all-consuming choreographer mode, but when I’m just late for a coffee date etc. Nah, the text I’m about to get is from the team.

*Ping*

Called. It.

| Jinnie: What temp should Min set the air fryer to?

| Felix: I’ve hidden it, don’t worry

They’re hilarious.

| Y/N: eta 3 min

I’m usually late when I sleep over at Mac’s. It feels like a cycle, an unhealthy one at that. Are cycles ever positive? I digress.

We officially broke up over three months ago. Why did we do that again? Did we ever really? Bitch, please. I’m the one who called it off because I felt like there was a rhino sitting on my chest whenever we were together. But then… I don’t know. The rhino became a constant presence, and without another body close to mine it wiggles and jumps and dances. Sex is a distraction. But it’s never quite what I need. Maybe I'm the problem? Maybe I'm too much in my head? Maybe I'm bad at it? It’s more of a sport, really. At least dancing makes me sweaty and satisfied. 

Speaking of.

After what seems like 3 hours to me, the packed bus finally glides to my stop and I squeeze myself out from between two suits smelling of expensive Sauvage. The perfume stays with me as I speed to the studio on the 10th floor.

Almost there. Already sweaty.

I toss my bag and jacket, bow as deep as I can without falling over and join the warm up.

The next half an hour is grueling.

”Hey you,” Felix sighs as he slumps down next to me. He’s panting nearly as hard as me.

Thank goodness it’s not just me being out of shape, Minho is really working us today.

I wish I was focusing on him, his freckles and that incredible blonde hair that’s sticking to his forehead and neck. Instead I’m stuck staring at the luminescent rectangle in my hand, at the text underneath a number that should’ve been deleted long ago.

| Can you grab some toilet paper on your way over?

”You alright?”

”Yeah, I’m fine,” I sigh and discard the phone back into my bag. Airplane mode on, obviously, no phones during practice.

Felix stays quiet, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

”What’s up with Hyung today?”

”Right?” I leap at the opportunity to distract myself from the message I just received, but its effect on my mood is evident.

But Felix is his gentle self and doesn’t push it. He knows it’s not the time or place. He knows I don’t much care for talking in general.

”Break’s over! C’mon!”

We’ve been a dance team for a while, me, Felix, Hyunjin, Jisung and Elle. Three months to be exact. Minho focuses on the choreos but sometimes the formations he comes up with require pairings, and so he hops back in to where he originally began; dancing with his friends. I met them all during Minho’s classes, Hyunjin first at contemporary, Elle and Felix in street styles.

When my dear friend opened his dance school a few years back I attended it as more of a ”supportive friend” sort of thing, but ended up loving it so much there was nothing to do but become a standard fixture in Minho’s classes.

Then one September evening after a particularly sweaty contemporary class Min asked if I’d have the guts to try out for a team he was putting together. I almost started crying because of how touched I was that he wanted me to join so desperately.

It felt like magic, the way we all just clicked. We have ambition, Minho’s choreographies and just a shit-load of fun together. I didn’t even completely comprehend how far Minho’s reputation had spread before I found out that Felix had flown all the way from Australia just to attend his workshop. And now, here he is, next to me, practicing the most difficult combo I’ve ever witnessed Minho do.

I have the best time with all of them, no matter what we do. But Felix… he’s so kind and bright and pure like a fresh summer breeze. While my humor is more on the dark side (thank you, Min), we get along much better than I dared hope. My only ”problem” is that he never seems to be in a bad mood, and I don’t trust people without a dark side. He’s competitive, absolutely, and gets a little frustrated when he doesn’t learn a choreography as fast as he’d like. But according to him, when I compared his outbursts in those situations to mine or Elle’s, he just shrugged and smiled, stating that he’s a slow learner and that’s okay.

What gets him mad? What shakes him up? What makes those dark eyes darker? Maybe I'll find out some day.

”Min, one more time, please?” Elle pleads, eyes big, chest heaving, t-shirt soaked.

We four hum in agreement.

Practice runs until three pm. as agreed and I realize the rest of my Saturday is free.

Well, I mean… Mac is waiting for the toilet paper.

Minho startles me as his strong hands land on my shoulders.

"YA!" I snap and flip around.

His forehead is coated with sweat, hair sticking to it like running ink. My face expresses the distain for the previous gesture, but it's hard to keep an insulted composure when he looks at me like this; the small, mischievous smile more than familiar.

"Just coming to compliment you, but fine."

"Go on then."

"Why were you late?"

"Ha!"

My exclamation holds confidence, but as soon as Minho's eyebrows reach for the ceiling and his eyes turn worried, the façade shakes. He knows about Mac. He knows as much as I let him, but being a close friend has probably granted him the burden of seeing through my words. It's difficult to hide the calls and constant texts. And the running mascara.

"I'm here you know, just let me know if you need anything." This time his strong hand is gentle as it grips my shoulder. I nod and reach for my bag.

"Thank you, I know. It's all good."

"Why don't we have a proper movie night? Maybe some drinks?" Minho leans down to search for my gaze. Instead of waiting for my answer, he hurries towards Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Elle, all four of them already heading out. "You guys free tonight?"

I feel giddy from the idea of spending time with my friends.... beats having to be a delivery girl by a thousand miles. Well, that's not completely fair, I stay at Mac's house so it's only fair that I buy stuff too. But seeing my team smile and nod eagerly and immediately start making plans on what, where and when is like serotonin of a different kind. It's calmer than the energy that comes from dancing, it's more comfortable than explosive, if that makes sense.

So a plan is made: we'll all meet at Minho's house in two hours. I'll get the wine, Hyunjin is in charge of chips, Felix is on dip duty, Jisung will bring the sweets and Elle takes care of the donuts. Minho will order the pizzas.

"Hey Y/N, I uh..." Felix opens the building door for me as we all make our way out. He looks a little nervous, but I can't see why that would be the case. Did I do something to upset him today? Was I rude? Did he want to tell me off for being late again?

"I don't really need to head home, mind if I just come to your house with you and we can head to hyung's together?"

Oh. That's all? I sigh in relief and smile, both at his question and my own thought process. He's never been to my house but I don't see why that's a problem.

"Sure, yeah, let's go catch the bus."

The bus is as full as when I arrived four hours ago. Felix and I are squeezed together, chest to back at first, but I get frustrated with not being able to reply when he talks next to my ear, so I flip around after the first two stops. His neck is in my eyeline, I find his eyes by tilting my head up. I'm so happy he's not Mac.

"You don't wanna shower or anything?"

"Do I smell?" he smirks.

"No! No, that's not what I- I mean just that-"

"Calm down," Felix chuckles, his chest vibrating against mine. His tongue quickly swipes across his lips. "You have a point, I guess I didn't really think about it."

"You can shower at mine," I shrug and feel my phone buzz deep in the pocket of my hoodie. It seems irrelevant, all I'm focused on is watching Felix's cheeks and ears change color. I don't think there's any need to be shy about such things, a shower is such a normal need and I so happen to have one at my place, as well as a clean towel and some shampoo. I always have this need to make people feel at home at my apartment, even if they haven't been there before. My goal is that it's easy for them to be with me and around me if that's a space I want to give them. And Felix has more than earned his space these past months.

Why does every suit wear Sauvage nowadays?

We laugh at nothing, damn near skipping our way to the elevator.

As the doors open to reveal the end of my blissful Saturday standing in the hallway, I find myself wishing that Felix had come home with me any other night. The rhino suddenly leaps onto my torso again, begins a little jig and my feet go a little numb. Tonight sounded too good to be true anyway.

"Where have you been?"

The text from earlier... I could've prevented this. Ignore the question, he knows where I've been.

"Felix, this is Mac, Mac, this is Felix."

Mac doesn't take Felix's outstretched hand, only stares at him up and down. I want to smack his judgmental jawline.

"Oh... uh. Hey, man... what's up?" Felix uses the hand meant for a polite handshake to rub the back of his neck.

"I'm her boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," I specify abruptly, sending a pleading look at Felix to... well, I don't know what.

"What are you?" the owner of the rhino asks, voice as judgmental as his expression.

This is normal. Mac never got along with any of my friends. That's how boyfriends are. Or some boyfriends. We're meant to spend time together by ourselves and then we both keep our own friends as separate entities. He didn't want me to get jealous of his pretty friends. And of course he shouldn't have to see me being happy with other guys.

I fumble with my key and feel Mac's eyes burning my skin very uncomfortably. Maybe if I take too long, Mac will leave?

"Open up, I've been here for like... ten minutes."

"You knew I had practice."

"How was I supposed to remember what time it ends?"

He hasn't remembered before, why would he now? But we didn't make plans this time, but... I did, with my teammates.

"What's he doing here?" 

Mac pushes past me into the apartment, practically shoving me against the door. Felix's arm flies behind my back to stop me from falling.

My place is small, about 25 square feet which is really all I need. I try to keep it tidy, but every corner here screams "hectic lifestyle". Felix takes off his Converse immediately which makes me smile. I probably should be embarrassed by him seeing the laundry and dishes, but who doesn't have those in their apartment? Having two guys in here though... that's a little out of the ordinary.

"Felix and I just came to swing by, we're heading to Minho's for a movie night-"

"What? I thought we were hanging out?"

"I never said that! Minho asked and we all thought it was a great idea-"

”I drove all this way to get you!”

He did. He drove the whole five blocks for me.

”I know, okay,” I sigh and cross my arms. It hurts to turn to look at Felix, whose expression is completely unfamiliar to me. But his eyes aren't on me, they're on the man currently slumping onto my couch, I hear the heels of his shoes hit the small table in front of it. I wish he wouldn't do that.

I step between them. The rhino standing on me makes it hard to move. ”I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll just text Minho. I’m so sorry for this Lix… dragging you here…”

Those beautiful brown eyes soften as he turns to me, it almost looks like he's reaching for me.

”You didn’t-”

”Lix? Are you a cat?” Mac laughs at his own quip.

He’s not funny, but at least he tries? I guess. But it’s not funny when it’s aimed at my friend.

”Shut up,” I reply. ”There’s no room for that with so many burgers in your name.”

Felix chuckles low and glances at me, hands in his pockets. I’m happy I make him laugh, it feels like an achieved goal. His smile falls quickly when his gaze does the same; he sees me throwing my bag over my shoulder and my feet inching back towards my discarded shoes next to the door.

”You really shouldn’t try to be funny,” the burger scoffs from the couch, grabbing a fistful of sourcream chips from the bowl on the table. I made him angry with my joke, I knew I shouldn't have said it. ”Or eat these, I thought we talked about this,” he mumbles as they turn to mush in his mouth.

He’s right, we have talked about it. Mac has said many times that he’s noticed how they make my face bloat. He’s right, I’m trying to be a good dancer, after all, I need to look the part.

I hum in response and lean down to tie my laces.

”You ready or what? What’s taking so long?”

”Almost!” I reply fast.

I return to an upright position so quick my head spins, but I have to hurry because Mac is getting impatient. I'm already mentally preparing to head for the door, when a sudden chill runs through me.

”Felix?” I stare at his expression, from the side his eyes look black. I hold out my hand, my trembling fingers reach for his arm but before they make their landing, he steps towards Mac.

”Leave.”

I’ve never heard a voice so low, it’s primitive and raw. Mac freezes in his spot, chips stilling in his mouth.

”Now.”

”Excuse me?”

”Lix, I-”

”No, I’m sorry. Excuse me. Let me be more clear.”

Felix approaches Mac slowly.

”Get off your ass, walk to the door, open it, step out of it and then close it. I don't care what the fuck you get up to after that, but leave my sight right now, or I won't be responsible for my actions.”

Mac looks at Felix, then me. His expression emits complete disbelief. I don't move for an instant, but when I see Felix's head begin to tilt to the left, his back so tense he's shaking, I'm flooded with the strength of the small army he and I form together. I stare back at my ex, eyes ablaze, and cross my arms.

Mac scoffs and stomps toward the exit.

"You're just a mess of red flags, Y/N, psycho friends and all this shit, good luck finding someone to fuck!"

The silence that follows the slammed door is deafening. My hands fall to my sides slowly, the rhino walks away. I can't stop staring at the bowl of chips next to the couch. Why shouldn't I eat those if I like them? Why should I go just because he tells me to? I can find people to fuck me, to love me... I-I think I can. Right now I think I can.

”Thank you.”

”I’m so sorry,” Felix says speedily and his voice overlaps with mine. He pulls me in for a one-sided hug. I can’t respond out of the confusion in my brain.

”Sorry? For what?”

"I know you don't need saving, I just lost it, I'm so sorry if I hurt you by treating you as someone helpless, you're not, at all!"

Only Felix could turn doing something so kind and hot and decent into something to apologize for. I reach for the sides of his head which is now buried in my shoulder. He's still shaking.

"Lix, look at me."

He does.

"You did nothing wrong, thank you. I mean it. He needed to hear that. As did I."

His lower lip trembles.

"Oh come here, silly," I pull him back to the hug he began. Arms flung around my torso tightly, we remain like that and just breathe together until I feel his vibrating muscles calm.

So, that's what he's like when he's mad. That's one of his buttons; he's protective of his friends. Interesting, sort of obvious and very fitting.

Felix has to crouch, almost fold over to have his head reach the crook of my neck. This is the first time he's ever felt tall and small simultaneously, it's endearing. I'm suddenly very conscious about the fact that I haven't showered yet when I feel his nose brush the nape of my neck. My breathing pauses from the feeling. I hope I don't smell. Why did that feel so... intimate?

His arms tighten and he inhales deeply. Shivers travel throughout my existence and I have to force out an exhale.

"Are you okay?" Felix straightens up and focuses all his attention towards my eyes. It's magnetic, I just stare back. His eyes are brown again. I've never noticed that freckle next to his eyebrow.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good..." I mumble and then realize what I said.

The rhino is actually gone. I can breathe. I test the thought in practice and start smiling, the full kind.

"I'm good. I'm good! That felt so, so good! Felix, oh my god. Thank you for standing up to Mac, oh my god, I feel okay, I really do!"

I prance and hop around my apartment, blabbering all the while. My friend laughs aloud with a bright expression, his hip to one side, weight on one leg and hands in his pockets.

"I'm happy to hear it. I'm sorry I got so angry though," he goes serious.

"No, no, I loved it!"

"Huh?"

I stop mid jump and feel like what I just blurted out is floating in front of me like a subtitle. Without knowing my thought process I can see how this could be confusing.

"He's gone," I sigh and turn to look at Felix. "He's gone, and it's good. I love that you did what would've taken me another six months of my life to finally do."

The whole team knows we started dancing together around the time me and Mac "broke up". I watch realization spread onto Lix's handsome features and wonder what it is he realized. That I was too weak to be alone? That I basically lied about the break up and that I've been seeing Mac this whole time? That I'm an idiot? That I'm pathetic?

"Has he been like that to you the whole time?" His eyes are dark again.

That's a tricky question in a sense. I really want to say he wasn't like that at first. That he changed. But maybe he was always like that and I was just too into him to see it. We disappeared from my friends' sight so quickly that no one in my social group really ever got to know him before the bigger fights began. Maybe they would've seen that he was a walking red flag.

"I'm not sure, actually. I think... it may have changed around the time he found out about my anxiety," my voice is small. I find refuge on the bed because the couch seems to still have his ass print on it. "I-I... Well, what really helps me when I get anxious, like have an attack or something, is physical contact. Mac made me feel like... I guess he made me feel like he was the only one who wants to help me. So even though I always felt heavy with him, and I did, truly, I feel so small and- well, just wrong when I'm with him it just... It felt like a better option than the wrong way I feel when I'm by myself. Whenever being alone got too much and I needed someone to hold me, hug me, touch me... love me, I'd go back to him. I guess I think it's better than being alone. And sometimes I just freeze and stare at everything this effects in my life; my family, friends, the team... I love dancing with you guys so much, but if I keep being late and just fucking everything up, I don't know what'll happen... Great, here I go. I'm sorry."

Tears have begun to run down my cheeks all the way to my hoodie. I didn't look at Felix once during my monologue, it felt so personal and self-reflective that I should've been on a leather futon in a therapist's office. All of a sudden he lands in front of me, knees colliding with the floor.

"Don't apologize, please."

Felix's hands envelope mine and he squeezes them gently. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through all this. If I'd known... He's an asshole, you don't need him. You have so many people who'd be happy to help you with whatever you need. People who adore you."

His hands protecting mine feels comforting, but there's something very exciting about his touch. I'm happy I'm crying, because it hides the real reason I think I'm shivering right now. But it's Felix... I mean it's Lee Felix, he's my friend. My teammate. I mean... have I thought about what he's hiding underneath his clothes, what he'd look like out of them and under me? Sure, yeah, of course. Obviously. But never in a serious manner. I haven't even let myself think about having a new crush. There's only been Mac. The one whose supposed to be the only one to love and take care of me... I imagine what sex would be like with everyone I dance with, I guess. How can someone who's been having sex regularly be so horny? Maybe it speaks to the satisfaction level of the activity. Or the one offering the services. I digress. What is it about Felix that makes our contact so monumental all of a sudden? 

And now I know he can get mad, his eyes do get darker. And it happened as he protected me. I loved it. It's like I've unlocked a new level.

My tears cease, the last two fall when I smile.

"Thanks, Lix, that's sweet."

"I mean it, I... We really care for you. And if you ever need company or anything, you know, just call me- or any of us!"

His eyes haven't left our joint hands once.

This would be the perfect moment to kiss him.

As if reading my mind, his eyes find mine. They're big and beautiful, glowing. He's glowing.

This is the wrong time to kiss him, or anyone. It's not fair, I'm just fragile and excited and frazzled, and anything that could happen now could just as easily be me trying to control these roaring emotions with something concrete. That something should be taking a shower, not kissing my friend.

But he's so beautiful and staring at me and just right there, looking so ready for the taking.

SHOWER, WOMAN. DO IT NOW.

My hands fly to Felix's cheeks and his eyes light up even brighter. I smack a dry kiss onto his forehead and get up clumsily.

"Thank you, you're amazing. Really, I'm so happy we're friends," I chirp, heading to the closet to grab fresh towels for us both. I toss the yellow one to him just as he's getting up, eyes now on the ground, the corners of his lips seem to curve down. He must not like forehead kisses. "Let's talk more okay, I really do want to go through this properly, but I really need a shower first. Just make yourself at home."

An accepting hum follows me to the bathroom.

I'm quick when I shower, but I'm happy that Felix took my comment to heart and relaxed enough to sit on my bed in the five minutes I spent away from the shared space. He smiles quickly and heads straight for the shower after me. The door slams shut. It feels aggressive.

Did he look sad? Mad? Annoyed? I'm not the best at going through this, deep conversations I mean. How do I express how grateful I am for what he did? I've never been in this situation, having someone kick another someone out of my apartment, having someone stand up for me. Granted, it was a coincidence Felix was here and saw Mac in action, I'm lucky to have friends who would've kicked his ass months ago if I'd given them the go-ahead. But maybe Felix wanted me to kiss him? But why would he? Would that have been a good thank you? Did he feel like I wasn't being fair? That I'd kiss someone like Mac but not him? Not Felix... surely he wouldn't- I pray he doesn't think that. He's not the guy who thinks I should "repay" him. He's not.

While my mind rolls me down this very steep hill I somehow find my way into comfortable yet clean clothes. We should really get going.

"Hey, mind if I borrow a hoodie? I didn't bring a change of clothes and would be nice to throw on something fresh."

I can't breathe, he's gorgeous, the towel flung over his other shoulder while his sweats hang low on his defined hips.

SPEAK.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, yeah, of course, that's fine."

I toss him a hoodie just like I did the towel fifteen minutes prior, he catches it just as easily. Only this time I can see the muscles that work while that movement happens.

"We should really get going."

We should, and we do. Felix is a tacit conversational partner the entire way to Minho's, mostly because I'm so nervous I'm blabbing his ears off. The quiet, very clean creature next to me doesn't seem to mind the listening role though, so I keep going until we get to Minho's apartment.

"What took you so long?" a fresh-out-of-the-shower Minho groans loudly.

"We're early!" I reply and shove a wine bottle into each of his free hands. Felix chuckles. "Jinnie, Ji and Elle aren't even here yet!"

"I'm hungry now, and I assumed you'd be earlier to make up for being late again today!"

We make our way to the kitchen.

"YA! You know I'm sorry!"

"Your apologies mean nothing to me."

"Hyung," Felix shakes his head solemnly.

Everything goes quiet. Minho's look jumps from me to Felix, obviously annoyed he doesn't understand, not knowing what he's supposed to not talk about. It's really not fair, and I don't want Felix thinking he's not allowed to talk about what happened, how he helped me.

Fine, I'll just come clean.

"I've been late because I've been sleeping over at Mac's. A-And sleeping with Mac."

Minho's eyes widen.

 "And when I do that I... I loose sense of everything else. I'm sorry, Min."

"But we're gonna help her now," Felix's soft smile makes me tear up again. "So she'll realize she doesn't need him."

I believe Felix.

"Felix kicked him out of my apartment today."

Minho's whole being brighten's up. "Really?"

"Yeah, and I'll do my best to keep him out."

"And we'll help," Min replies and reaches out his hand. "Phone."

After a moment of misplaced incredulous staring, as if I didn't know the next step was necessary, I hand it over. With a few calculated, overjoyed swipes and clicks, Minho does his part to ensure that Mac's gone. I have the best friends. The thought floats in my head like a proud flag I proudly fly, but then the door bell rings. And ten minutes later it does the same thing. And I only get more proud from there.

The rest of the night is amazing. I haven't felt this light in millenniums. The five of us indulge in wine, chips, pizza, donuts and movies. It's exactly what life should feel like. Sometimes I catch Felix staring at me. His response to our gazes connecting is either a swift redirection of his head or a goofy face. I'm sure I made him uncomfortable somehow. Maybe he thinks that I know what that thing was and wants me to not feel bad about it. Because he's kind and selfless that way. But the thing is that I don't know what the damn thing is. The drink swirling in my wine glass isn't wine, it changed into a demonic version of a Gin & Tonic two full glasses ago. It's Sprite and Gin, the two ingredients Minho has in his apartment, if you don't count milk. Which I do not. The blasphemy still goes down fairly easily, and I'm finding it harder and harder to stop staring at my beautiful, blonde savior. I need to know what made him make those faces as well as how he feels about everything that went down - and didn't go down - at my apartment.

I'm pretty sure my brain is demanding things I shouldn't really demand of him. He doesn't owe me anything, it's the other way around really. But I don't want to repay him physically. I mean I do... but only as a disguise to hide the fact I really do want to touch him and feel him. Okay, I'm going over the rails. I set down my glass, slowing down the drinking to make my thoughts calmer, but... when did I empty this? Never mind.

"Y/N-ya, it's almost one, you need to go or you're going to miss the last bus," Minho's voice rings from the kitchen. One? How can it already be one in the morning? "Wanna sleep over?" he continues after a slight pause, mouth obviously full of something. I've taken shelter in his lovely home countless times, but somehow I feel like going home. Today has been such a hurricane.

"Nah, thanks," I get up and skip to the kitchen, pulling my best friend in for a hug. "But brunch tomorrow?"

Minho nods against my shoulder. He hugs me tighter than usual. He utters the next sentences without lifting his head.

"I'm fucking glad that he's gone. I wish I'd known you were still... Anyway, call me, Felix, anyone else when you get low okay?"

My turn to move my head up and down. I hear the quietest, most fragile "I love you" before he straightens up and ruffles my hair sloppily. "Get going, or you'll have to run!"

I give Hyunjin, Jisung and Elle their goodbye squeezes, but as I'm rashly moving closer to Felix's torso on the couch, he captures my hands in his and fixes his eyes on mine, this time obviously wanting me to notice. They're slightly glossy, a little red, as is his nose. An intense feeling burns through me as his skin glues to mine, identical to this afternoon.

"I was thinking of heading out too, can I make sure you get home okay?"

I swallow and nod.

We stand about twenty feet from the bus stop as we watch the vehicle drive by, almost empty. I let out a laugh. Last night bus, cab costs an arm and a leg, walking takes an hour and it's freezing. So...

"Well, back to Minho's I guess," I rub my hands together and glance at Felix, ready to turn back to the mini party only a few minutes back the way we came. "I can wait for your bus with you if you want,  where does it-"

"I can walk, I... I live pretty close."

"But..." I mumble and stare at the imaginary Google Maps opening in my brain. "You could've just gone home to shower today then, you didn't have to come to my house. I thought you lived so far that it wouldn't have made any sense for you to..." my voice disappears when the shyest and most embarrassed smile I've ever witnessed starts to adorn his features.

"Yeah... I live like, fifteen minutes from here. I just... I don't know, I just wanted to hang out. With you."

"Why?"

Felix laughs, loud, incredulous, glancing up at the dark heavens. "Why? 'Cause you're amazing, that's why. I've been... shit, okay... I've been wanting to hang out alone with you for weeks. I've had a crush on you since- well I guess since the first time I saw you in class months ago. It was just physical at first, I think, but then we got into the same team and you just... every day you just turn out to be cooler and cooler and I've just been gathering the guts to fucking ask you out... I was going to ask today, but then we made these plans, so I just used that to try to steal a few moments alone with you. But then..."

I gulp.

"We met that asshole who made me lose my shit, and I'm still just so sorry I got angry, but I just needed to get him out, I mean, how could he talk to you like that? Treat you like that? And then when you cried and I held your hands for the first time, all I wanted to do was kiss you, and I thought you wanted the same thing, and I'm so sorry for that."

We've made our way to lean against the apartment block's stone wall side by side, eyes on the ground. But the flood of questions that take over my brain at this apology physically fling my gaze to him.

"I'm sorry I was thinking of something like that when you were so vulnerable. You obviously didn't want that, you made it really clear with how fast you left the room and how nervous you've been since... I made you uncomfortable, and I'm so, so sorry. It was never my intention. And... well, the more I think about it, the sillier the thought of you wanting to go out with me feels-"

"Why? Because you're kind? Handsome? Funny? Talented? Intelligent?" I blurt and turn to stand in front of him. "Felix..." I whisper and take his hands into mine, suddenly shy again, since I can't seem to look up. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. Not at all. The reason I did this," I repeat the forehead kiss, only slower. His body goes fully stiff. "And ran into the shower was so I wouldn't kiss you right then. It didn't feel fair."

"What do you mean?" his voice is low and hoarse, chin tilting up so his eyes reach mine. How can someone look this ethereal?

"Because... I didn't want you to think that I was only doing it because I was trying to get over Mac. I haven't let myself think about anyone else since we started going out and I... Now, I feel desperate to just forget about him and find something better. I want to believe I deserve it, it's a lot of work but because of you, what you did today, I think I can. I just... desperately need to get him out of my system. I want something more."

"You deserve it. You deserve so much," he whispers and I watch his Adam's apple bounce.

How does alcohol give me so much confidence? Four drinks ago I would've turned as red as a tomato and moved away, but now my eyes stay on the man in front of me as he slowly straightens up and is suddenly towering over my short form. But when Felix towers, it's safe and strong, not intimidating in the slightest.

"I'd like to help you think about someone else."

"I want to kiss you," I bring our hands up, placing them between our chests. "But only because I want to kiss you, Felix, not just anyone. You."

"B-But I don't want you to feel like-"

"Shh... I don't. I want you. I just don't want to hurt you, because I don't know what my heart can take at the moment, I can't promise that I'll be a good person to date right now, I-"

"What if..." Felix gently lifts my chin higher with his thumb as his voice trails off softly. "We just... kiss good night, and then I'll take you on a date tomorrow... Let's see how it goes and... take it from there. Sound good?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah?" he grins before leaning down to press his lips against mine. Right before they touch, he hesitates. He's kind. Too kind. His breath beckons me, calls for me to close the gap.

They're so soft. I need to grip hold of his hoodie just to stay upright as we melt together. Felix's hands pull me closer by my waist, I feel him crumpling up my hoodie too. He tastes like sprite, it's heavenly. The good night kiss turns into a much longer goodbye, as we slowly explore how our lips and tongues fit together. I could stay here forever. I can't remember anyone I've ever gone on a date with, dated, let alone kissed before this. It's heavenly. It's all just... heavenly.

Today, I found two things that make Felix's eyes darken. That's really exciting. They're almost black when they open as we pull away from each other, but return to the gentle chocolate shade when he smiles.

"Good night," I whisper and give him one more peck, which almost turns into a another session.

I wave shyly as I watch him disappear behind the corner. I don't know how I'll get to sleep. Or how I'm going to explain this grin that just won't. Go. Down.

The next day I have brunch with Minho, and Felix and I head to the movies in the evening. That date turns into another, and another... and another. By the time Christmas comes around, we've been together almost every day. I've found a lot of things that make Felix's eyes darken.

But since we've been together, I haven't been late to practice once. Okay, once, but that time we were late together.

[susan-enthusiast]

I Missed You,

I'm Sorry.

Yall the only way I can let out my love for Nancy and Susan is writing and drawing and I REALLY felt like writing Susan getting rejected by Derek, and Nancy finally admitting her little crush on Susan.

ALSO I GUESS DONT READ IT IF YOU DONT LIKE FLUFF!

"Are you sure you sure breaking a window and taking Derek out of there that way is a good idea?" Nancy turned to Susan with a raised eyebrow, giving her a 'are you crazy' type look.

"Look, he might be a little frightened at first, but then once he realizes it's me, it'll be okay!" Susan reassured, more for herself then Nancy. Yet, Nancy didn't think Derek was very enthusiastic about Susan's return, he didn't even show up to see her come back. He prioritized his work over seeing his fiance again after 3 weeks, it just seemed odd.

Nancy shrugged it off, walking alongside her friend with a smile. It had been nice saving San Francisco from a giant alien robot, even at the cost of the famous Golden Gate. Susan was probably super excited to tell Derek what she had done the past 3 weeks, defeating a alien robot and all.

"You okay Nance?" Susan asked, noticing her friend staring off into space.

Nancy looked up at Susan. "Hm? Oh yeah! I'm fine." She paused for a moment. "Just thinking how excited you are about telling Derek about our adventures."

"I am really excited to tell him! He's probably going to be blown away." Susan beamed.

Nancy hoped that was true, she really did.

Once at the News Station, Susan waited for Derek to finished his broadcasting before, well, grabbing him out of there.

"I'm gonna laugh if he screams." Nancy chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He probably won't, the worst thing that'll happen is he'll flail around." Susan smiled at her comment, preparing herself to reach in there and grab Derek. "Well, here goes nothing." Susan sighed, breaking the glass off the window and reaching her hand in there.

Nancy heard the little complaints from Derek and laughed softly, stepping over to were Susan was.

Susan, of course, spun Derek around and 'hugged' him, before leaning to kiss him, even though he was almost suffocated in the process.

"Ew, was that necessary?" Nancy laughed, watching them reunite before she heard the sounds of Derek, who looked like he was actually being suffocated.

Susan immediately realized and started apologizing, setting him down on the rooftop so he could get his air back. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!"

Derek started breathing heavily, trying to collect himself after almost being crushed by a 50 foot woman. He looked up at her in shock. "Wow you really are big!" He must of just taken it in since seeing her at the wedding was a blur.

"Yeah but I'm still me! I'm still the same girl you fell in love with." Susan smiled softly, looking down at Derek.

Nancy crossed her arms, waiting at the side of the building, listening in on their conversation, hoping Susan wouldn't have her heart broken by the end of this.

"Yeah, but you and your friend did just destroy the Golden Gate bridge.." Derek signed, rubbing his temples.

Susan almost looked defeated. "Yeah.. but that was the only way we were going to defeat that giant robot!" She paused. "Did you ever think I could do something like that?" She asked.

Derek, once again, sighed. "No, I can honestly say it has never ever ever ever ever ever ever occurred to me." He stated.

Susan looked even more defeated but shrugged it off and continued on. "Okay, this is going to sound weird, okay, maybe a lot weird, but we'll figure it out. I know that together we can find a way to get me back to normal."

Nancy was surprised she still wanted a normal life, in all honesty, she loved being a giant and wouldn't change it for the world. She finally felt like she meant something in life.

"Wait, wait.. you want me to put everything on hold, so you can unfix everything that happened to YOU? That I had nothing to do with?" There was emphasis on 'you', and it made Nancy turn to look at Derek, she couldn't believe he had just said that.

"Yes, that's what I exactly expect.. Derek, what about the life we talked about together?" Susan was trying to deny what he was saying.

Derek looked down at his shoes. "Susan, look, try and look at things from my perspective. I have a whole audience waiting for me everyday, to tell the weather, daily news, and cheesy fluff pieces, and you want ME to put my life on hold, just to try to undo the thing that you did?" Nancy wanted to grab him so bad and knock some sense into him, but that'd probably kill him

Susan now looked very upset. "Derek please.." she knelt down a little.

"Look don't crush me for saying this, but I'm not looking forward to spending the rest of my life in someone else's shadow, and you're casting a pretty big shadow.." He stopped and looked at her for a moment. "I'm sorry Susan, it's over.." He walked towards the roof door and looked back one last time.

"Good luck, Susan." The door shut abruptly.

Nancy immediately walked over to Susan who was already a sobbing mess and walked her to a patch of grass in a field.

"You dont need him, all he cares about is himself.." Nancy started, bringing Susan closer to her.

Susan looked at her, wiping away the tears in her eyes. Nancy felt terrible, she looked so vulnerable and weak at that moment, she looked so,, alone.

"You still have people who love you okay? You don't need Derek." Nancy rubbed her back, placing her head on Susan's. "You deserve more in the world then that selfish jerk."

Susan sniffled, wiping more tears threatening to spill. "You're right.." she managed to get out. She paused for a few moments, looking back at Nancy. "I don't need him."

"That's right, there's more people in this world then him, and I honestly don't get why he dumped such a sweet woman.." Nancy chuckled softly, rubbing her back, making sure she felt comfortable.

"You're just one of the most beautiful people I've met in my entire life and still can't understand why he left you like that. I love that about you." She took one of her hands and placed it on Susan's cheek, bringing her head up to look at Nancy.

"Don't let him get you down, there's plenty of people in this world."

Susan smirked. "Like you?"

Nancy laughed nervously. "Hah! No- I don't know what you're talking about." She fixed the collar on her shirt.

"You do know.. I see the way you act around me. I'm not blind you know." Susan smiled softly.

"I for one, think you're very beautiful too." The other woman looked at Nancy and her face went flushed.

"There's no way, you-" Nancy was cut short with a small kiss on her lips, short and sweet but she enjoyed it.

"Susan, you seriously have feelings for me? Like, you're not joking right?" God Nancy hoped she wasn't.

"I'm not, Derek made me realize I didn't need him, I needed you in my life.." Susan cupped her cheek, bringing her closer.

Nancy pulled Susan into a tight hug, not planning to let go anytime soon. "So glad I get to be with the most prettiest girl I've ever laid my eyes on." Nancy kissed her cheek softly, leaving Susan a giggling and blushing mess.

Nancy had never felt more happier in that moment.

AAAAAAAA I FINALLY FINSISHED IT AFTER PROCRASTINATING!! HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE FLUFF

[supernovaquirrel]

Christmas Lights

Summary: In this family, Christmas is a big deal…

Pairing(s): None

Word Count: 2480ish

Warning(s): none worth mentioning, some mention of character(s) death(s), other than that this is just Christmas crack 😆

A/N: Happy Christmas Eve Eve everyone! Enjoy this little speck of our imagination while celebrating the holidays!!

Craving more? Here’s our Masterlist!

“Hey, Dean pass me one of those wreaths.” 

Standing at the top of the makeshift stool you had forged together, you almost stumble back as you call Dean over. You grip onto the bookshelf in front of you and turn your head towards Dean who seems to be enjoying watching you flail about with the decorations. 

“Dean get over here before I decide to skin your ass…” you mutter a bit irritated. You have to get this entire bunker decorated and ready before everyone shows up. In this family, Christmas is a big deal.

The last Christmas you remember seemed so long ago. You never pictured yourself celebrating anymore. But now, you find yourself surrounded by the faint golden glow of the lights adorning almost every inch of the war room. Hollies and garlands are draped over every corner where the wall meets the ceiling and you had a lot more where that came from. 

“Okay here you go”, Dean said, holding a small wreath for you to clip onto the draping garlands that you lined earlier. 

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“Don’tcha think you should slow down a bit Y/N, you’ve been doing this since you got back from the market this morning.” Dean chuckles while he thinks back to that morning, “you were there forever by the way. I mean I would have gone with you, but there is nothing like killing a bitchy gnome on Christmas eve eve.” The asshole was pretty proud of himself about that too, while you were out at the Christmas market hauling ass. 

“Dude, you may not have noticed but the bunker is HUGE!”

“Your point?”

“The point, Michael Scott, is that everything has to be ready in 5 hours. And I still need to decorate the kitchen, the rest of this room, our rooms, the Dean Cave, library, and even the shower room!” Exasperated, you jump down and push past him to get another garland from the stash of decorations you bought. 

“Woah woah woah,” Dean turns with a questioning expression, “5 hours? And the shower room? Since when are you Genji girl for Christmas?” Dean chuckles at his own conclusion, and takes a couple of steps back with outstretched arms to try to block you from moving. 

You stop abruptly and he is met with your famous bitchface. You try to duck under Dean’s short arms to get to the decorations, but he decides to duck down with you instead.

You glare at him and hiss, “Dean, now is not the time.”

“What do you mean? I always have time to decorate.” Dean says with a stupid grin on his face. 

This asswipe.

Does he not realize that you have to make this dull overglorified geek mancave look amazing in a few hours? You want to ask him to move again but think better of it and opt for grinning back at Dean as you clock him in the kidney instead. Dean brings his hand to his stomach area and hunches in surprise.

“What the he-” he starts but you decide to Judo flip him for good measure as a kind of ‘fuck you’ for being annoying. As soon as Dean hits the ground with a big “oof”, you step over his idiotic self to get to your hard earned decorations you got this morning.  

As you start digging into your decorations to find something to complement the table in which everyone usually does their research on, you turn to Dean.

“Are you gonna help now that I flipped your ass or —,” Seeing that Dean is still on the ground, you realize that it probably was not a great idea to rough him up after a gnome hunt.

 “Okay. Look fine, I’ll call Cas to help me. I already sent Sam to go get us a tree. Fuck! I still have to deal with the goddamn tree!” You pace around the room and then turn to Dean again who is trying to peel himself off the floor “You . . . you take a breather.”

You decide to add two nutcracker soldiers and a poinsettia to the table. 

So far, you have hung up lights outside and have decorated the research area, the front entrance and, like, a fair amount of the kitchen.

You walk back towards Dean who is now in the kitchen getting a beer out of the fridge. 

“C’mon Dean, time to decorate the rest of the kitchen and then our rooms.” Dean pops open his beer and glares at you. “I’ll buy you a pie after we’re done, how’s that?” Dean looks like he contemplates this proposal and then decides that decorating is worth the pie.

“Alright, but I need a case of beer to get through this.” 

After about two hours of decorating, you and Dean have the kitchen, the Dean cave, and all the rooms done. Now all that is left is the shower room. You leave Dean to his last beer in the Dean Cave and head to the shower room. When you step inside, you realize how filthy it is and decide that you do not in fact have to decorate this room. You head back to Dean and declare the end of the first half of decorating.

“Okay so, Cas should almost be here by now since I called him two hours ago and I think Sam texted me five minutes ago saying he’s got the Christmas tree.” You look at Dean to make sure he is still listening and head to the front door, expecting him to follow. “Now all we need to do is help Sam bring in the tree and wait for Cas so we can decorate it.”

At the foot of the stairs to the entrance, you realize that Dean has stopped following and is now staring at you.

You're about to tell him to hurry up if he wants pie but Dean cuts you off. 

“Hey, thanks a lot Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to Sam and I. I’m sure Cas will appreciate it as well, despite how much he likes spouting off the history of Christmas for dummies.” He stops for a second, hesitating then continues, “after Bobby, then Kevin and Charlie, Christmas was hard, but thanks for, y’know, decorating.” 

You turn to face Dean and consider him for a second. 

You weren’t there when Sam and Dean lost them. 

You weren’t there to see how that may have affected all of them and you have never brought up anything about it unless one of them talked about them first in fear of bringing up memories that were not welcome. Maybe you should have asked about them more and maybe you did the right thing by waiting for them to pop up. But one thing is for sure. You are here now and every hunter knows that you take every moment that is granted to you as a blessing, because no one lasts very long in this line of work.

“No problem Dean,” you smile, “Christmas means a lot to me too.” 

He seemed visibly more relaxed now that that’s out of the way. 

Dean smiles back and not long after there is a knock at the door. “That must be Sam, or Cas, or both,” you jog up the stairs now, “took them long enough to get here.”

Dean follows after you when you open the door. Sam is there looking exhausted and Cas is behind him staring up at the lights you painstakingly put up. At least someone appreciates them. 

“Hello Dean, Y/N.” Cas says without breaking eye contact with the lights.

“Heya Cas. Thank you for coming to help. Someone wasn’t exactly…in spirits”, you chuckle. 

“Hey! You know I helped!”, Dean interjects defiantly. 

“After being bribed with a goddamn pie.” You shoot back.  

“Uhh hellooo, guy with a huge tree here!” Sam loudly says considering you and Dean are only two feet away from him. Either way, Sam still effectively shuts the two of you up. 

“Okay Sammy, we get it.” Dean looks like he is two seconds away from rolling his eyes. “So, um, where exactly is it, because it would suck if you spent all day in town looking for a tree while I killed some creepy ass garden gnomes on this fine Christmas eve eve.” 

“It’s right behind me Dean,” Sam says while pointing behind himself, “maybe if you actually looked for once instead of just standing there, you would have just seen it.”

“Whatever bitch,” Dean throws at Sam.

“Jerk,” Sam says back while holding back a laugh.

“Okay guys, why don’t we get the tree from wherever it is before we all freeze out here?” You interject because it's frickin’ cold out and you will be pissed if you catch a cold on Christmas day. 

Looking around his slouched form, (let’s be real he is far too tall even when slumped against the wall) you see a pine tree tied up and leaning against the Ford Sam borrowed from the garage, easily looking 10 feet tall. 

That’s an impressive find considering that you sent Sam to look for a tree two days before Christmas Day. You were expecting him to return with one that was 3 feet tall looking like an overgrown Charlie Brown tree.

“Wow okay and uh, how do we plan on getting Sasquatch 2.0 into the bunker?” 

“Well, uh, I was thinking of just getting Cas to carry it, seeing as he is the only one with super strength here,” Sam says while looking behind him to find Cas who is nowhere to be seen. “Yeah so, did anyone see where he went?” 

“Nope,” you and Dean say in unison. 

“Okay,” you start, “you guys might as well help me with the ornaments to go with the tree. While you're at it, I’ll grab some beer eggnog that I hid away in the fridge.”

Sam looks at you in disgust. “That sounds revolting,” at about the same time Dean says “as long as it's beer.” They look at each other and look like they are about to initiate a staring contest. These two are absolutely ridiculous sometimes. 

You giggle, “Well c’mon, I’m cold and we can look for Cas later to get him to bring the tree in.”

Sam and Dean follow you down the stairs to the kitchen for a much needed refreshing drink of what may or may not be the most disgusting beer they will have. They all pop open the beer after grabbing it from the fridge and are about to have a swig when they hear a loud crash from the general direction in which the library is. 

“We should probably go check that out,” Sam says, attempting to conceal his happiness now that he has an excuse not to try the beer. 

“Yeah fine, I wasn’t exactly digging the idea of eggnog beer.” Dean says while looking back at you like you had made a mistake. Traitors.

“Fine, be that way then,” you pout as you put the beer down and walk away from the counter, Sam and Dean hot on your tail out of the kitchen. 

When you guys get to the library, Cas has already got the 10 foot christmas tree in the door and has set it upright on a makeshift base made out of wood he got from who-knows-where. The tree itself proves too tall for the library and is tilted at an odd angle to make up for the height. The whole thing looks to defy the laws of physics, but it works, and no one questions the being who has been on this earth for longer than all of them and their family trees combined. 

Cas himself is still nowhere to be found for some strange reason. 

“What’s with the disappearing act again?” Dean says, “how did no one see or hear Cas bring this in and set it up? And how the fuck did he get it through the door?”

“Beats me,” you start, “maybe it was because you and Sam wouldn’t stop bitching about the beer.” 

“I never bitched about the beer!” Dean says, “That was all Sam.” He points at Sam to make his point.

“Well, I mean, no offense Y/N but it is a weird flavour.” Sam says and backs up at the same time, thinking that you are about to make a deal about the beer. Which you are. Before you get the chance however, Cas speaks up from behind the tree.

“My apologies everyone, but it seems I have found myself to be in a predicament.” 

“What the hell Cas. Why are you behind the tree?” Dean says while making his way to Cas. “Holy shit, guys look at what Cas did.”

Feeling a sense of dread, you and Sam peer around the tree to take a look at Cas. The sight itself is hilarious. It is funny enough to make you forget about the beer no one wants to drink. 

Cas seems to have managed to tangle himself in multiple lights that suspiciously look like the ones you spent hours setting up outside. You would be pissed about the fact that Cas took them down, but he looks like a kicked cat right now because he is bending over with a hand at his feet trying to untangle himself, and another stuck to his side by the lights. Serves him right. 

“Cas, buddy, what did you do?” Dean says while making a very large effort to not laugh. 

“I seem to have tangled myself in some Christmas lights,” Cas says like he’s stating the obvious.

“Yeah, Cas we know, but how?” Sam adds. He, unlike Dean, is already chuckling.

“I thought the lights on the bunker would look nice on the tree, so I took them down after carrying the tree in.” Cas continues to claw at the lights at his feet while simultaneously trying to stand upright. “I didn’t realize that the lights did not come apart and were instead made to be one long string of small bulbs and got tangled. I fell over soon after and now seem to be stuck int his position.” Cas looks to have given up on the lights and just stares at all of them.

“Well, I’m up for that beer now.” Dean says. 

“Me two,” you add.

“Me three,” Sam says.

“I would like to point out that I am still stuck,” Cas continues to stare at them like he can commune you guys to help him out of his predicament. 

“Buddy, I think we all need a beer before we help you out of that crap.” Dean says while making his way to the kitchen.

“I second that.” you began to say, “you guys really know how to spice up a Christmas eve eve.”

[tennessoui]

no see like this:

(2k)

When Anakin opens the door to the apartment, the first thing he hears is Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice.

He toes off his running shoes and leaves them by the door, pulling his headphones down to his neck as he enters the living room. 

Ahsoka has crashed on the couch, it looks like, one arm thrown above her head and the other still stuck halfway in a bag of chips. Her mouth is open in a snore, head tilted back at such an uncomfortable looking angle that Anakin doesn’t even feel a little bad for reaching down to grab her ankle and give it a vicious shake. As he knew she would, she lurches awake with a curse.

“You’re cleaning that up,” he tells her, moving backward before the spray of chip crumbs and her flailing limbs can strike him.

“Fuck you,” she mutters with a sleepy glare, sitting upright to toss the bag onto the coffee table. The movement turns into a languid stretch that reminds Anakin of a spoiled house cat. “Some of us had early morning class.”

“Some of us had an early morning shift,” Anakin points out, swinging himself over the edge of the couch and sitting on the other end. “You’re not better than me just because you’re not a college drop out yet.”

“Gross,” Ahsoka decides, wrinkling her nose at Anakin’s sweat-soaked clothes. “Go shower. I can’t talk to you like this.”

Obligingly, Anakin leans forward and shakes the ends of his sweaty hair in her direction. It makes her yell out in disgust, striking out with the heel of her foot to keep him away.

“You’re too disgusting to be as famous as you are,” she says, upper lip curled up. “What if your fans knew you were just a disgusting boy?”

It makes Anakin bark out a laugh, chest expanding with the sort of brightness he only ever feels when someone—even a member of the band herself—mentions their success. They’ve been having success.

“They’re all Padmé’s fans, and you know it,” Anakin says instead, and Ahsoka throws a cushion at him in faux-outrage.

Before she can say anything else, the flickering image on the television screen captures Anakin’s attention just as Obi-Wan Kenobi lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’m glad it’s been such a success among your family,” the rockstar says. His eyes are crinkled, ear piece dangling onto his chest, and hair an artful mess ontop of his head. He and the interviewer are sat on a makeshift stage, in the middle of a crowd. He must have just performed then. 

Anakin immediately wonders which songs. The lead off the new album, most likely. 

It’s an earworm and something Anakin’d actually just been listening to on his run, though it’s far from his favorite song on the record.

“Of course,” the interviewer says. She’s smiling too, though it’s a smile with too many teeth. Like that of a shark. “It’s the album we’ve all been waiting for. Each track is a downright masterpiece really.”

“You know he’s not going to announce his opening acts via Today Show interview,” Anakin tells Ahsoka, lolling his head to the side to glance at her. She’s picked up her phone from the floor, attention half-focused on the screen and half on him.

“Singers do weird things,” she says. “Who knows.”

It’s a dig at Anakin, because most things out of her mouth are digs at Anakin. Anakin reaches out with his foot and kicks her. “If his management was going to ask us to tour with them for the North America leg, they’d have reached out weeks ago. Hell, did they even confirm receipt?” This makes Ahsoka raise her eyes from her phone, eyebrows cocked skeptically. “I think his management may be a bit too busy with Obi-Wan Kenobi’s divorce settlement to confirm receipt on our audition email.”

Anakin scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes drawn back to the figure on television.

It’s probably true. 

After all, Obi-Wan Kenobi divorcing his wife of fifteen years has almost definitely caused a shit ton of work for his management team, especially as they fight against Satine Kryze’s team to have Kenobi come out on top in the public perception. It sounds both incredibly easy and incredibly hard.

On one hand, it’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s been America’s darling since he was a child-actor. News headlines usually fall in his favor, despite all the nasty rumors that have dogged his music career. He’s charming. He’s handsome. There’s something about him that’s magnetic. Something besides his vocal talent and stage presence that sells out his shows, no matter the size of the arena, no matter the place.

On the other hand, the cause for the divorce has not fully been released. On the other hand, half the news outlets are running with a rumor that Kenobi cheated. That while Kryze was filming for a few months out of the country, Kenobi had had an affair.

Anakin isn’t sure why it’s anyone’s business but theirs, Kenobi and Kryze’s, but he’s mature enough to admit that may just be because he’s been a fan of Kenobi’s work—and the man himself—before he was ever even married. He’s biased.

He’s also biased because Kenobi came out with an album—his first in years—and the announcement of a world tour shortly after the announcement of the divorce. And Anakin’s band had answered a call for an opening act for that tour.

And that had been weeks ago.

And the tour started in five months. 

And Anakin has never wanted anything more badly in his life. It’s not even because he’d be opening for Obi-Wan Kenobi either. It would be—shit, the band is small. Bigger online, sure, but nowhere near as big as he wants them to be. As he knows they can be. He and Ahsoka had started Helical in his bedroom when they were still in fucking middle school, all of thirteen and fourteen, and Padmé had joined a few years later. 

In the long scheme of things, they’re young and stupid, and they’d have gone nowhere fast if it weren’t for the fact that the Internet had a place for all kinds of music, all kinds of bands, and Padmé’s parents had endless wells of patience—and funds—for extracurricular activities they thought looked good on university applications.

But Ahsoka is about to enter her second year of school, Padmé is about to graduate, Anakin’s a college dropout, and every day it feels like they’re running out of time. That the band has an end-date they’re running full-tilt towards.

“You’ve been nicer than most interviewers,” Obi-Wan Kenobi says on the television, charming half-smirk on his face. “Thank you for not asking me yet who—or what—the album is about.”

“I think it’s a bit obvious,” the interviewer replies, holding up the album cover. Avalanche is printed over the top of it in big, unignorable letters. “Given there’s several…particularly famous quotes floating around of you calling your ex your rock.”

“Quite,” Obi-Wan Kenobi says. He laughs again, but something in his eyes has shuttered. His laughter is off, hollow. “Well. I suppose thank you for not asking if I’m going on a world tour because my ex-wife got the house in the divorce.”“Or the continent,” the interviewer points out, and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s smile goes hard and flinty.

“Right,” he says and then says nothing more.

“They’re really gonna have to give him a refresher on media training,” Ahsoka says, tugging at the end of one of her braids. “This is just sad.”

Anakin scoffs and runs a hand through his sweat-stiff hair. “He’s just divorced, come on, Ahsoka. He’s probably sick of the questions.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t have written an entire album about the divorce,” Ahsoka points out. “While asking everyone to respect his privacy during this trying time.”

“It’s not all about his divorce,” Anakin snaps, “Track nine is about losing his grandfather to—”

“Whoa, okay, okay,” his step-sister says, raising her hands in false compliance. “I forgot you were Obi-Wan Kenobi’s biggest fan.”

“I’m not,” Anakin mutters, but he can feel a flush working its way over his cheeks. He’s not. He just—he has a healthy respect for Obi-Wan Kenobi, one musician to another.

“So are you excited for the tour?” the interviewer asks. The question is practically spat out, an attempt to override the dead air of the last several seconds. “It’s been four years since you’ve toured.”

“I really am,” Obi-Wan replies, and he gifts her with another smile now that the topic has moved onto something he deems more acceptable. It makes Anakin snort. Ahsoka’s probably right—they will have to give the man more media training. He’s acting woefully unprepared and a thousand times too obvious. The media’s gonna eat him alive. “I’ve missed touring the entire time I’ve been away—I’ve found nothing quite like it, nothing that gives me the same thrill as touring. I sing my songs rather…ad nauseum, honestly. Literally all the time. But when I’m singing them with the fans, it feels like I’m the one singing along. Like they’re the ones that have written it. And it feels amazing.” He laughs, and this one is honest and closer to happy than Anakin has heard so far this interview. “I feel like, ‘Alright, take them! They’re yours, please. Always have been.’

“We’re gonna be like that one day,” Anakin tells Ahsoka absentmindedly, rubbing at the corner of his jaw. “They’re gonna know all the words to all our songs. They’re gonna sing along.”

“Anakin,” Ahsoka says. Slowly, distractedly. Obi-Wan Kenobi smiles at something the interviewer says though, and Anakin is distracted. 

“Yes, it’s something I love as well—giving that platform to new artists, getting to tour with people who may have never performed in venues the size of these, in front of crowds like these. It’s like doing it for the first time myself.”

“You’ve kept the opening acts close to your chest,” the interviewer says. “But do you know who you’re going to be touring with?”“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan nods. His hand falls to his wrist, turns the thread bracelet there around a few times. “We’ve reached out to everyone, and we’re expecting to make an announcement soon.”

“Anakin!” Ahsoka snaps, loud enough that Anakin’s attention is torn from the screen even as his heart drops into his stomach.

Oh. Obi-Wan’s team has contacted everyone.

Obi-Wan’s team hasn’t contacted them.

Obi-Wan doesn’t want them. Him. The band.

It’s to be expected. Really, it is. There must have been thousands of bands who applied. Thousands of hopefuls with more of platform, more of a discography, more of everything than Helical can offer. 

And yet the blow feels crushing.

“Anakin, why the fuck have you not been checking the band’s email?” Ahsoka asks, scrambling up and towards him. He catches her hands. They’re shaking as if she is about to collapse, and her movements are frenzied as if she doesn’t know whether to hit him or hug him. “Anakin! Fuck!”

“It wasn’t my week!” Anakin protests, “what do you mean? You were supposed to be monitoring the account!” “Like fuck I was supposed to be monitoring the account!” Ahsoka shouts in his face. “What the fuck, Anakin!” “What? What?” he asks when she definitely succeeds in hitting him across the face. 

“Look!” she wriggles more, this time in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. When he lets her go, she thrusts a phone in his face. “Look!” It takes several moments for the words to emerge from the bright light of her screen. Then it takes several more moments for Anakin to read them. Then it takes him even longer to make sense of them.

“What.” Dear Helical,

It is with great enthusiasm that we write to ask if you would be available to audition in person for the Obi-Wan Kenobi On The Rocks Tour. The audition would be just a formal process—we would like to offer you the position of second opener during the North American leg regardless. We think your sound matches the tour and are—-

“Holy shit,” Anakin yells, rocketing up onto his feet and dropping his step-sister halfway to the ground in the process. “Holy shit, Ahsoka! When did they send this?”

“Why weren’t you checking the fucking emails!” She screams back, leaping onto her feet as well. “It wasn’t my week!” “Like fuck it wasn’t, fuck you!” Ahsoka says, but her voice is high and excited and she’s still shaking and Anakin’s shaking too and holy shit. Holy shit.

Obi-Wan Kenobi wants them.

Him.

Them.

His band.

Holy shit.

so i've been thinking about this premise for so long but it wasn't working for obikin (which of course i took as a challenge) and i think i finally got it where i want it so

au where 35 yo obi-wan is a music sensation across the world but he's recently divorced and going on tour again after releasing a very cutting, personal, and well-received album

and 19 yo anakin joins his tour with his very small band of two other people (ahsoka, padmé) to be his opening act - they have a small but loyal following, a pretty big social media presence, and there are even people who ship anakin and padmé which you know means these are die-hard fans

anakin has definitely looked up to obi-wan and his music for a good portion of his life and he's like. beyond excited that he's going to tour with The Obi-Wan Kenobi - this is big, not just for his music career but also for himself and the little boy he was listening to obi-wan's music for the first time!!

i'm just imagining like....obi-wan and anakin meeting after a few days of rehearsal for opening night, and it's not the most auspicious start because obi-wan's going through like 20 different emotions at any given moment (he's on tour, he's divorced, he's tired, he loves the music, he can't be the person he was in his twenties when he was first on tour but that's a whole different matter, he has all the media training and charismatic instinct to cover up these less than savory emotions with flirtatious empty words) and anakin is just like. sorta starstruck sorta shy sorta eager sorta awkward so:

"i'm uh, i'm a singer it's nice to meet you. hi yeah. hello. i'm on tour. as well. with you. actually." "ah no, are you one of my backing vocal artists? we can't have that - you're much too gorgeous and my ego is much too dependent on the audience focusing on me." "um 😳"

so it's a relationship that begins with a lot of flirting and being flustered and progresses through moments of vulnerability and honest emotion which turns into mutual affection which turns into anakin's celebrity crush becoming very real....meanwhile obi-wan googled anakin and the opening band after the first show/introduction and finds all the stuff about him and padmé being together and that's. that's fine. young love. how sweet. any sort of disappointment obi-wan feels is because he's recently divorced and bitter about it and he's going to have to spend at least half his tour watching the lovebirds snuggling up together.

and even when all the misunderstandings about relationship statuses have been addressed and the pretense has fallen away to leave just attraction, both have to think about their careers - it's all well and good for obi-wan to date someone sixteen years his junior, post divorce, but that's an image he's never wanted to deal with or be associated with. and this is the biggest shot of anakin's career - his best chance to make it in the music industry. in the words of his bandmate, is he really, honestly thinking about risking it for a chance to sleep with The Obi-Wan Kenobi?

but what his bandmate doesn't seem to really understand is that for anakin, obi-wan hasn't been The Obi-Wan Kenobi in a long time. he's just been obi-wan. and that makes a world of difference.

[morosis-haze]

hii babes i was wondering if u could do a tr boys x( beyonce )reader maybe bonten?like how their s/o is famous and they are world criminals .have a good day <3

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰/ 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬/𝐨

A/n: Gn!reader. Mocchi isn’t in this b/c I was struggling to try writing for him, when I feel like I have his character down maybe I’ll do his version. I’m sorry this request is late, but I hope you enjoy.

Warning: curse words, threats, words implying to violence

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨—

- there’s a bunch a people who know y’all are dating just not the whole public

- mikey knows how to keep peoples mouth shut

- let someone see y’all together and he is on them

- doesn’t go anywhere with a lot people though to begin with

- being in a relationship with Mikey would be complicated at times he wouldn’t always communicate and would push you away

- with you being busy yourself caused more problems

- you have to have patience to make sure you get Mikey to sit down with you every once in a while and actually spend time together

- Mikey does love your private moments

- at times he’ll make up a random game

“How about I say something and you sing it to me back”

“mikey ..”

“What it will be like an exercise for you,right?”

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨—

“ So, can I listen to the album?”

“Sanzu it’s not done yet”

“Just one song please”

- you played 2 seconds of a song and didn’t let him hear more than that

He just paused and stared at you in disbelief “… that was not the full thing”

“Yeah I never agreed to let you hear it”

-Dramatically flailing out his arms and whining “I didn’t even get to hear your voice”

- Negative comments are something you’re already used to, but let anyone say even the slightest negative shit about you near sanzu and we might have to pray for that person’s life

- “people who listen to y/n are brainwashed” “ I don’t understand people who listen to y/n they don’t even sound good”

- sanzu just has to go ‘talk’ to this person cause ain’t no way they said such bullshit with confidence

- y’all relationship did get to the public quickly, but that ain’t really surprising

- this of course caused discourse, and now a bunch of articles are on you

- “y/n seen out with bonten member”

- the album you dropped afterwards still hit #1 sooooo you do you

- everything that was being said was getting to sanzu though

-he didn’t want to cause you any problems

- you reassure him he isn’t causing major problems and your relationship will not end

𝐊𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞—

- koko had showed up to a photo shoot of yours one time and let me tell the look on these peoples faces

- they’re all having a wtf moment seeing you send a little wave his way

- they knew better than to question the relationship when seeing the side eye koko was sending

- just making sure nothing’s going wrong

- whenever he does want to go out with you it’s always in a secluded area where everyone knows him, and knows not to open their mouth about how he’s with you

- he’s quite helpful when it comes to your career

- you want his opinion on what the album cover should be he’s right there giving reason why the first cover matches the energy of the album better

- right there when you have writers block, letting you know there’s no need to rush

-he’s your assistant but he’s not

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨—

- your biggest fan

- very careful with his relationship with you

- he didn’t want it to get public that you’re dating a bonten member as he knows how it could effect you

- now kakucho is a very supportive boyfriend

- he’ll listen to your songs on repeat, and then praise you for your work every single time

“ you did amazing on this!”

- though at times he forgets not to play the unreleased songs

- you showed up to his place and heard your song blaring through the walls

- like sir you can’t do that

- kakucho doesn’t want to cause any problems, but give the word that someone’s been messing with you and he could go handle it then he’ll do just that

- he won’t involve himself in a situation till it’s necessary

- kakucho just minds his business except when it comes to your music

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢—

- was here since day motherfuckin one in your career

- Takeomi is like your bodyguard at times

- “ y/n when do you plan on giving us another album? It’s been such a long time since you dropped-” this person kept on pressing you while being all up in your face

- that’s where takeomi comes in cause ain’t no one gonna make his s/o feel uncomfortable

- odd as it is to the media y’all are just coincidentally in the same area there ain’t a photo or video to prove you and Takeomi actually know each other

- have people all on the internet concerned for you, some think you’re in bonten, just a list theories

- Takeomi just knows how to make sure you guys aren’t caught looking like you’re together

- he knows y’all are both busy people so he tries his best to make sure there won’t be any interruptions when you’re both together

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢—

-shows up to your studio every time you’re there

-he knows he’s intimidating people there

-you got writers block and he’ll help in some way

“Let me do a verse” “mmm actually i just thought of what I wanna say. How about next album,ran?”

- when your relationship did get public it was a mix of hate and amusement from people

- he didn’t give a fuck

- went out for dinner right after like it was nothing

- “so, are you paying?”

- the nerve of him to ask like he didn’t order damn near everything off the menu

- thing is with ran he’s doesn’t care being in public with you cause he wishes someone would try you and him

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢—

- another who’s wants to keep the relationship private

- rindou will just be sitting in your studio as you record songs

- only other people in there being your closest friends that work with you and they had no problems with rindou or either they decided to be quiet then to start one

- rindou does get jealous of the people that get to be around you

- seeing another so close to his s/o on the media and he can’t even be there due to the issues it would cause

- part of him wishes to let everyone know you’re dating him, but the problems it could cause you isn’t worth it to him

-bonus: rindou def was a fan when he met you

Taglist :: @milliumizoomi @plutosexc @sscarchiyo @iridesent-folly join taglist here

[algebaricproofy]

Fuck You Series: Part 1

Part 2: Part3 part4 part5 part6

genre: smut, bit of angst, fluff, band au, uni au, enemies to lovers au

pairing: beomgyu x gn reader (afab tho when it comes to smut parts)

warnings: nsfw, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, just reader and beomgyu arguing with each other for so goddamn long, degrading & slut shaming

synopsis: you and Beomgyu are both from infamous rival bands at the same uni, you being the bassist of your band: Blue Moon. Beomgyu being the lead guitarist of his band: Tomorrow x Together . You hate Beomgyu the most out of all of them though and one night at a party you decide to teach him a "lesson" and become...fuck buddies ??

word count: 1.2k

Song of the chapter: Bad influence - Bernard Park

Loud music blared, a faint smell of drugs, alcohol and BO drifted over the room. People were awfully dancing about, flailing their arms with red solo cups accompanying their hands. A typical house party.

You weren't very much of a fan to be honest, but that was what uni life was famous for: being absolutely hammered and having a lecture the next day in the morning with a hangover. All old people were so reminiscent of their uni days you just thought you'd be thankful in the future.

Suddenly needing to go to the bathroom, you go upstairs, wading past the numerous people and see a door that you assume could be it. You reach for the knob but your hands are met with someone else's instead.

Of course it was Choi Beomgyu.

"I was going to the bathroom first thank you very much." You say, pulling his hand away from the knob.

"No way I need to go right now." He says, putting his hand back on the doorknob.

"So do I and I'm going first." You argue.

Both of you continue bickering for a while, each pulling each other's hands away from the knob and shouting at each other until you've had enough and just turn it, both of you falling forwards into the room that was most definitely not even the bathroom.

"What a dumbass. You didn't even know whether it was the bathroom", Beomgyu sneers at you.

"Neither did you?"

"Yeah but I just assumed it was since your face looked like you were gonna piss right there and you were going towards the door like your life depended on it."

"Fuck off."

"Your band performing at the the uni music festival then?" He asks, ignoring you.

"Yeah we are obviously, both of our bands are the only reason why people even go."

"I can understand why people would go for us but not really for you guys."

"I could say the same for you. Your band is like barely even mediocre at best."

"Yeah? Go on, give me one reason."

"Well first off, all your songs are so fucking annoying they just use the same melody and lyrics over and over and over again like your newest track, lover loser or whatever? Like, we get you're a loser and we agree actually but you don't have to keep repeating it every 5 seconds."

"As your latest song was any better? I wouldn't even classify that a song. What even was that shit I swear my ears were actually bleeding"

"Also what even is your fucking band name? Tomorrow x together? It just sounds like you typed in band name generator and picked the first thing you saw."

"Hey! Our name has a very sentimental meaning actually! We've come together under one dream in hopes of buil-"

"Yeah I've heard that way too many times."

"Also what even is your guitarist, bro can't improvise for shit it's like they never learnt any basic scales"

"Ryujin is an extremely talented guitarist and that's rich coming from you."

"Um no I can-"

You can't even be bothered to pay attention to whatever crap he was saying, instead you focus your attention on what his face looked like right now. His pretty perfectly shaped and sized eyebrows were furrowed at you, nose slightly scrunched, long hair swaying and those plump lips moving about fast, probably spewing something about you or your band members. Sure you disliked him but he was slightly attractive, you hate to admit. Why would the universe gift someone who was so annoying such a face like that?

You hated everything else about him though, the way he thought so highly of himself and was such a cocky bitch and the way he treated you and your band.

It made you want to see what he'd be like underneath you, all of that stripped, begging you for mercy.

So when you attached your lips to his, shutting him from whatever shit he was going on about, you didn't expect him to let you continue or to kiss you back. And when you grabbed him by both of his wrists, pinning them by the sides of his head and moving him towards the bed, you expected him to let go immediately and ask you if you've lost your mind. Had you lost your mind? It wasn't even like you could blame it on the alcohol because you hadn't had any.

Even when you were now trailing rough kisses on his neck, you were still waiting for him to throw you off him but he didn't. Only squeezing his eyes shut, same furrowed brows and slight whimpers escaping his lips.

It made you wonder what other sounds he could make so one of your hands travelled to his clothed dick and you started palming him, earning extraordinarily pretty moans and gasps from him, especially when you only focused on his sensitive tip.

You could tell he couldn't take anymore of it. His mouth was hanging wide open, his only free hand squeezed tightly shut. You smirk at his state. Never would you have thought you'd see him this way.

"I didn't know you were such a plain slut, Beomgyu", You laugh but he only moans out your name in response, "What? Want me to fuck you?"

He nods his head fast and whines out a please.

"Say my band's better than yours and that Ryujin is a better lead guitarist than you could ever be then"

He looks at you with pleading eyes.

"No? Okay then." You stop what you're doing and start to get off him but he stops you by grabbing your hand.

"Your band...is better than mine and Ryujin...is a better lead guitarist than I'll ever be" He doesn't make eye contact with you, his head down but you swear you can see tears in his eyes. He must feel totally humiliated right now it's quite funny actually.

"Aw. What a good boy." You say sarcastically, ruffling his hair then finally freeing his painfully hard dick which was pretty much oozing with precum. Taking off your pants too, you position his dick at your entrance and slowly sink down, Beomgyu throwing his head back, already a moaning mess.

You pin his hands next to his head again and start to move and roll your hips on him. Really, such pretty moans were coming out of him, encouraging you to go at a much faster pace. Until finally, you could tell he was gonna cum any second, evident from the way his moaning and whimpering became more and more frequent and high pitched and how is eyes were rolling back slightly and then, obviously him saying "I'm gonna cum" and then he does. Quite a lot. But you carry on rolling your hips on his dick.

“W-what are you doing?” He asks, gasping

“Oh I’m not done with you yet Choi Beomgyu.”

Reblogs are really appreciated <;33

a/n: tell me if you want to be added to the taglist in the comments of this post or ask box ! I'm not sure if I'll continue this bc I'm dying from cringeness rn