#he's the grumpiest looking guy ever but you look at him across the room and he's giving you slow blinks without even knowing it Tumblr posts

[willowser]

oh there's something so funny about cat hybrid bakugou. even though he's wearing the grumpiest face ever, you give him a kissy on his cheeks and he starts purring. every night when he cuddles up beside you in bed, you can feel his wide hands very lightly kneading your thigh. sometimes when you're touching him too much, he can't help but bite you on the hand.

[pinkanonwrites]

Hello~

the fics where jamil and azul turned into their respective animals were so cute 😭 may I request one with riddle turning into a hedgehog? tysm

You most certainly may! This one has been in the works for quite a while, so I hope everyone enjoys now that I'm finally getting it out for you all to read!

GN! Reader, They/them pronouns +1,700 words

"Housewarden! Please come out!"

"Riddle, I promise I won't take any more pictures!... Well, maybe just one? For the likes?"

"Snrk- Yeah, Housewarden! You'll be super popular this way!"

"Riddle, the sooner we find you the sooner we can figure out what happened."

Of all the things to expect when you waltzed into Heartslabyul commons that afternoon, you couldn't really say that this was one of them. Sprawled out amongst the furniture in various, uncomfortable states of disarray were your friends, clearly searching for something. Or someone, considering that the notable Housewarden of Heartslabyul was nowhere to be found.

As if to make the situation even more confusing, none of the boys seemed to be searching anywhere that would make actual sense for Riddle to be. Cater was on his hands and knees, peering under the sofa by the light of his phone. Deuce had somehow managed to weasel his head into the unlit fireplace, laying amongst the soot ad debris as he called upwards into the chimney with only an echo to respond. Trey was crawling around under the tea table in the sunroom with a deeply concerned expression.

And perhaps least helpful of all was Ace, who seemed to be picking up the same textbooks and flower vases on the coffee table again and again, occasionally lifting up one of his feet to check the underside of his sneaker.

"What are you guys even doing?"

Deuce jolted at the sound of your voice, smacking his head on the fireplace brickwork with a groan. The other boys all stumbled to their feet, dusting off their clothes and making their way carefully over to you, all but tiptoeing across the floor.

"Prefect! Did you see any adorable little hedgehogs in the hallway when you came in? Like, totes adorbs? With the grumpiest little eyebrows?" Cater's eyes were gleaming as he held up his phone, like he was expecting you to whip a hedgehog from your pocket and present it for him to photograph. Trey slowly put a hand atop Cater's phone and pushed it downwards and out of your face.

"We aren't taking any more photos of him. Not if we want him to come out at least." He added. Cater humphed, stowing his phone in his pocket.

"I didn't. But aren't you guys looking for... Riddle? Why would he be in the chimney?"

Deuce, with a face full of soot, piped in next. "Some sort of spell was cast on the Housewarden! One minute he was eating, the next, poof! We need to find him so we can take him to the Headmage."

"And whatever you do, don't take a bite of that tart, No matter how good it looks." Ace elbowed you and pointed to a half-eaten slice of strawberry tart on the tea table. Laying next to it appeared to be Riddle's magical pen, unattended. "That's our prime suspect for the magicking."

"You think... The tart cast the spell?"

Ace snorted. "You really don't understand how magic works here, do ya? We think someone might've cast a spell on it while it was in the fridge. So probably someone from Heartslabyul. But we can't figure that out until we find the Housewarden first. Sooooooo, if you aren't busy or anything?"

But you were already budging past the gaggle of boys and into the room to begin searching under furniture. Not that you'd ever tell him or any of his housemates (though you were starting to think Ace was catching on) you did have a particular fondness for the uptight Housewarden. And without reading into things too much, you were hoping he had just a touch of fondness for you as well.

Riddle didn't give you the same lectures he did to other students when you arrived with your tie crooked or your hair disheveled. He'd just quietly fix you up, tutting softly with just the faintest red to his cheeks. Then he'd seem to realize what he was doing, and rip his hands away like they'd been burned. It never stopped him from doing it again the next time, though.

He had a temper with others, but he never seemed to direct that anger towards you. He was notoriously strict, but more often than not you seemed to get away with merely a warning or a word of concern. Out of earshot, Ace had begun to refer to you as 'his favorite.'

You weren't quite ready to admit just how much that made your heart flutter.

"Of course I'll help. Is there anywhere you haven't looked yet?"

"We've covered most of the commons, do you want to start on the main hallway? He may be trying to get back to his room." Trey said. "Though he probably won't make it very far."

"Got it, I'll start there."

"Watch where you're stepping!" Deuce called after you as you made your way to the halls. "Don't squish the Housewarden!"

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Deuce.

But Trey was certainly right about Riddle not being able to make it back to his room. The Heartslabyul dorm hallways were full of staircases, wandering and twisting up and away into nooks and corridors. Even if he did manage to safely make it down a staircase or two, there's no way he'd make it up the next one.

"Riddle? Are you in here?" You called, though you doubted his ability to reply. You tread carefully down each step, checking corners and around each banister as you went. And sure enough, at the base of the staircase leading up to the first hall of dorm rooms, you spotted a little red ball of spikes attempting to scale the first step.

"Riddle!" You gasped, causing the little critter to startle and tumble from the edge of the step. As he turned around you could see that Cater has been completely on mark with his description, Riddle's little hedgehog forehead graced with the tiniest pair of little furrowed eyebrows you had ever seen. You almost cooed at the image, but you got the feeling Riddle wouldn't appreciate it.

Speaking of not appreciating, rather than scampering into the relative safety of your embrace, tiny hedgehog Riddle chose instead to turn on his heel and make a mad dash for the next hallway, almost disappearing out of sight before your brain caught up with your eyes.

"HEY! Riddle, wait!" You bolted after him. You'd teased Ace and Deuce before, watching them chase awkwardly after their respective hedgehogs during croquet while yours remained perfectly well-behaved. You'd have to apologize after this. Despite their small size, hedgehogs could apparently really motor.

But this hedgehog was still Riddle, and if Riddle's P.E. grades were anything to go by, it wouldn't be long before he started running out of steam. And the moment you saw the little guy began to falter, you took a running leap, pouncing on him and scooping him into your cupped hands. He didn't give in without a fight though, thrashing in your grip and jabbing you with his pricked-up quills.

"OW!" You yelped, hissing through your teeth at the needling sensation. Riddle stopped thrashing immediately, staring up at you as you kept him still cupped in your hands. He looked... guilty? If you had to guess.

"It's fine." You murmured. “I know you didn't mean to hurt me." He began to relax ever so slightly, at least enough so his quills wouldn't continue jabbing into your soft palms. "You should have been more careful though! Why didn't you just let your housemates help? What if someone had stepped on you?"

He furrowed his tiny brow, opening his mouth and hovering it over one of your fingers like he was about to bite you.

"You won't. You're too mature for that."

You called his bluff, and he huffed to himself, pulling back and closing his mouth again before curling into a little ball in the center of your palms. You sighed, moving yourself to sit upright so you could keep him cupped close to your body.

"I'm serious. I know you have an image you want to uphold and all that, but everyone needs help sometimes. And I know Ace and Cater probably weren't very mature about it, but Deuce and Trey were really worried about you! I was too!" You sighed, bringing the little ball of spikes closer to your face as your voice dropped into a murmur. "I don't know what I would have done if you actually got hurt."

It took a moment but Riddle finally poked his head back out of his irritated spike ball. He unfurled, sitting in the palm of your hand as he watched you, shifting back and forth in a manner you would almost call sheepish if you'd seen a person doing it.

"Can you please let us help you, Riddle? For me?"

A long moment of silence passed, before he finally nodded. You sighed in relief, bringing your hands forward to press a little kiss to the top of his head. "Thank you."

POOF!

A wave of thick, pink mist began to envelop you, heavy with the scent of sugar and strawberries as it clouded your entire vision. A weight seemed to have draped itself over your lap, but it wasn't until the fog cleared that you were able to make out where it had come from. Seated facing you in your lap with his arms draped over your shoulders and somehow, despite all odds, redder than you had ever seen him in his life, was Riddle.

"I-I don't- I didn't- You-When-How did-?" He was stammering so hard you thought he was about to combust, and honestly you probably weren't that far behind him. But your brain was too fritzed to try and put any words together, so your body did the work for you instead. You wrapped your arms around his middle and tugged him in, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

"...Glad you're okay." You finally managed to force out.

He froze up, his whole body locked in place and for a moment you worried you made the wrong move. But then one incredibly shaky hand managed to find itself patting the top of your head in an awkward, placating manner.

"T-Thank you... for your help."

You couldn't have asked for a more Riddle-like response.

[sun-god-appollo]

The Mighty Fall (Part One) | Gavin x Reader

A/N: Hi all! This is my first time posting a fanfiction on here and I hope you enjoy it!

Basically, this idea has been swirling around in my head for ages. Reader is a detective from New York, but she has recently made the big move to Detroit for a sea change. She’s been working for the DCPD for a few months now and is settling in nicely. Little does she know, she might have just got herself partnered with the grumpiest coffee addict out there: Detective Gavin Reed.

Chapter 1/?

————————————————————————

7am, Monday:

I swipe my card as I enter the Detroit City Police Department’s lobby, one of the androids at reception greeting me with a wide, perfect smile, “Good morning, Detective Y/L/N.”

I nod curtly before striding past her and making my way to the bullpen. Heaving out a sigh, I drop my bag down next to my desk before sitting down in my chair. My desktop lights up, sensing my presence, and I plug in my password. The home screen greets me and I waste no time getting back into my open case. It only needed a few finishing touches before it could finally be closed - three months of work and I sure was happy to see that one go. With my eyes glued to the screen, I finish it up quickly before sending it off to Captain Fowler’s office.

Rubbing my eyes, I stand up from my desk and make my way over to the break room to pour myself a cup of coffee. I check my watch - it was 8:30am - good, plenty of time before 9am briefing. I walk past Lieutenant Anderson’s desk and the Lieutenant gives a nod. The android beside him pipes up, “Good morning, Detective,” Connor says in the robotic way he always did. I smile and give them both a small nod before continuing on to the break room.

As I pour my coffee, I feel eyes burning into my skull. I turn around and am greeted with two sets of eyes: Detective Johnson and Detective Reed. The former giggling at something Reed had muttered to her as I had entered.

“Gee, take a picture guys, it’ll last longer,” I mutter before turning back to the task at hand. How I had survived this long at work this morning without caffeine was a mystery.

“Maybe I will, Y/L/N,” Reed responds, shit-eating grin evidently spread across his face from the tone of his remark. I roll my eyes and place the coffee pot back in it’s place before stepping back towards the doorway.

Reed grins at me, “You know Fowler is handing out new assignments today, right? Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to be partnered with the best detective here.”

I scoff and grab a bagel from the table in front of him before exiting.

9am Briefing:

Sitting myself down next to a uniformed officer, I sip on my second coffee for the day. Thank goodness I did not drink this for the flavour. Captain Fowler enters the room around five minutes after I did and every officer in the room straightens their posture ever-so-slightly, except for one - Reed. I listen intently to the Captain as he congratulates us on meeting comp-stat numbers for the month before he moves onto new assignments.

“Johnson and Roberts, I want you to take over the Red Ice case that has been sent to us from the Chicago PD. It seems Detroit is where this dealer hides out,” Captain Fowler states as he flicks through his tablet.

His eyes land on me before quickly scanning the room and stopping on someone else, “Reed and Y/L/N, I want you working on the Turner Street murder case.”

I internally groan. Why? Why, of all people, did it have to be Reed? I force a smile and say with all the enthusiasm I can muster, “Of course sir, we’re on it.”

I can feel Gavin smirking behind me as he remarks, “Don’t worry sir, you’ve got one of your best detectives on the case. New York is in good hands.”

I look at Gavin over my shoulder and glare at him for the nickname he cannot seem to drop, the other officers starting to chuckle around me. With that, Fowler is done handing out assignments and the briefing is over. I grab my now empty coffee cup and push myself up out of my chair, making my way back towards the safety of my desk.

“Woah, c’mon partner. Where are you going?” Reed calls for me.

“Reed, if you seriously think I am going to play nice with you just because we have been partnered up for this case. You are sorely mistaken.”

He chuckles, “Playing hard to get, I see. I like a challenge”

I groan in frustration and turn on my heel to continue out of the briefing room, “Just- Hurry up and let’s get this over with.”

Oh, Reed was definitely going to enjoy this case.

10am Same Day:

“C’mon, let’s go to the crime scene,” I state as I hop up from my chair, glaring over the partition of my desk at Reed. Not only was I cursed to have him as a desk neighbour, but now I’d be stuck with him as a partner too.

Gavin smirks and follows me out of the precinct. His smirk quickly fades as he realises I’m walking to my car, “Woah, what the hell do you think you’re doin’, Y/L/N? We’re taking my car.”

“Hell no. I know for a fact your car would be like the inside of a trash bin,” I smirk at my comeback, pressing the button of my car key and earning a satisfying beep. I hop into the driver’s side, Reed slipping into the passenger side begrudgingly moments after me.

I push the start button and quickly put my car into reverse, the radio roaring to life. A pink hue colours my cheeks as the last song I was listening to blasts from the speakers.

“Far East Movement’s ‘G6’, huh?” Gavin smirks.

“Shut up,” I blush harder and turn the music up further to drown him out.

Once we arrive, I kill the engine and step out of my car. Shutting the door behind me, I make my way up to the house and pull my gloves on.

“What have we got, fellas?” I ask the uniformed officers on site.

“Double homicide,” one officer states, “it’s not pretty.”

Reed steps past me and into the house. I nod at the officers and quickly follow him, pulling out my tablet.

“Geez, ‘not pretty’ is an understatement,” Reed comments.

I make my way over to the kitchen and take notes of all of the marked evidence before heading to the bedroom.

After about forty-five minutes, I step back to the living room to find Reed with his arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently.

“Are you done?” He questions with a raised brow.

“Uhh, I was taking notes? For the case.. Oh, right. You must not follow protocol like that here in Detroit.”

“Don’t be thinking so high and mighty of yourself, New York,” he scoffs, “Coroner is here to take the body’s to the lab.”

I nod and remove my gloves before stepping back outside, “Reed, hear me out, I don’t think this was a human that did this..”

Gavin turns to face me and raises an eyebrow, “What makes you say that?”

I open up my tablet and show him the photos I took, “What human writes blood on the wall in CyberLife Sans?”

Gavin nods and chews on his bottom lip in thought. My eyes drift down to watch the small motion and I blink, shaking my head to clear the thought.

“You’re right,” he looks back at me, “We should head back to the precinct and call in some witnesses, yeah?”

6pm, Monday Night:

After what felt like forever, interviewing witnesses and following leads, it seemed that we were finally making a dent in this case. I stretch my arms over my head and let out a yawn.

“Right, I say we call it a night and pick up where we left off tomorrow morning?”

Reed looks up from his screen, “Sure.”

He picks up a piece of paper and scrawls something onto it, “My number. For the case. If you think of anything before tomorrow, obviously,” a light pink hue dusts over his cheeks and he looks away as he hands the paper to me.

I take it and pocket it before standing up and packing up my things.

Once I get home I decide to text the number Reed gave me: Is this The Detective Reed’s number?

I get the ping of a new notification before I can lock my phone: Could be. Depends if this is a cute new detective from New York.

I roll my eyes, a blush forming on my face and respond: Good. Now you have my number in case you think of anything.

I quickly send another message: For the case, of course.

I get another reply back, almost instantly: Dang, here I was thinking we’d be swapping pics ;)

I scoff and type back: You wish.

Another ping: Oh, but I do.

And another: On a more serious note, feel free to send all case related thoughts. No matter the hour.

I chuckle and lock my phone. Geez, this case would definitely be interesting.

If you like this so far, please feel free to like and share! Thank you for reading!

[violets-and-books]

The Crow's Hogwarts Houses for no apparent reason:

Kaz:

Slytherin, of course

A master of NV magic

Only had detention twice, surprisingly

Once in Second Year: Incorrect uniform - leather gloves

And again in Fourth Year: Found brawling in the corridor with another Slytherin student

Has an older brother, Jordie, graduated when Kaz started. Also Slytherin

Will say nothing if you're bigoted but you'll wake up tomorrow, a black crow slashed across your neck. And you'd better start atoning for your crimes

Broke his leg playing Quidditch in the First Year

No one expected him to get a girlfriend, especially not from Hufflepuff

Jesper:

Gryffindor

Kaz's self-proclaimed best friend

Moving stairs? Nah. Let's jump it!

Everyone looks at him and thinks 'Weasley twins'

Surprisingly very smart, if he'd just apply it

In and out of detention almost every day

In and out of the Hospital Wing even more

Good with Muggle weapons

Can often be found being scolded by his boyfriend

Nina:

Ravenclaw

So many uniform detentions that the teachers just give up

Muggle memes. Only Jesper gets them

The only Ravenclaw to try and flirt the Common Room door open

Once slept outside the Ravenclaw Common Room for two days because both she and the door were so stubborn

Resident translator of Hogwarts

Has a boyfriend on the Quidditch team

Homework? What's that?

Always sneaks down to the kitchen at night

Always has someone to carry her books for her

Inej:

Hufflepuff

Believes in second chances

Only one who can put up with Kaz

Moving stairs? Nah. Let's jump it but actually do it properly this time

Been in detention only once. No one knows why

Often seen as 'just Brekker's girl'

Woe betide anyone who thinks that

Half the time holding Kaz back from a fight, half the time he's holding her back

Master of Sectemsempra

Has several Muggle knives on her

Robes far to big, never seems to grow into them

Keeper on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team

Practices gymnastics in her spare time

Wylan:

Gryffindor

Was so unsure and scared about being put into Gryffindor that he found his way to the Headteacher's office to ask to be reSorted

When he wasn't, he wouldn't look at anyone for two days

Was sure he was a Squib for a good chunk of his life

Keeps getting letters from his father but doesn't dare pick them up. It'll be torture trying to work out what he's been sent in front of everyone

Was approached by Kaz in the second term of the first year, offering protection and a sort of friendship. Kaz also somehow knew Wylan's secret and offered to help him read in lessons. If needed

Head of the Potions Club

Gets full marks in Potions and Charms, flunks pretty much everything else

His Boggart is his father

Often found following Jesper around or running after Jesper, yelling after him angrily

Never goes home for any holidays and always comes back from the summer holidays slightly worse than he left

Has had to stop Kaz, Inej and Jesper from getting on the train to punch his father about 5 separate times

Is amazed he even got this many friends

Matthias:

Hufflepuff

The grumpiest Hufflepuff you have ever seen

One of the Beaters on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, that's how he met Inej

Does not trust Kaz with a fibre in his body

If you ask him to join a club or a cause, he will give you the most withering look possible

Only joined the Quidditch team because Nina practically begged him to

Carries most of Nina's books and is angry about it

Constantly insists about how he should've been in Gryffindor but decked a guy for being unsportsman-like

In detention three times, all for fights

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (9)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 5.2k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7​ @lorielulu7​ @1am9root6​ @sana-b​ @diamonddia-mond​ @jiminiessipabo​ @myhearttteu​ @rainbowmagicpixecorn​ @lidda​ @rosiethefairy​ @lovinggalaxies​ @midnight1199​ @trinityautumn​ @linniewritesficz​ @fearhoshi​ @juniesoftbot​ @kingalls00​ @toribug2020​ @daydreambrliever​ @sleepyje0n​ @yoonie-bby​ @honestlyfuriousharmony​ @itsoktheresbts​ @suzziequeuie​  @illnevertrustmyselfagain​ @annoyingpessimist​ @lovelikeyouwant​  @cigarettes-after-tears​ @kookie-vuitton​ @thefangirlsoul​ @lmna990​ @luvshorses08​ @nanananisstuff​ @marvelstuck​ @kissmeimwitchy​ @hxsxxk-180294​ @ratking101​  @shameless-army​ @yuukihime2097​ @heimdoodle​ @kissing-fear​ @toripeix​ @horanghae18​ @redperson58​ @awsome-small-k​ @salomea27​ @johnnystolemywig​ @adoorinyourheart @alltimeyoongi @miss–insanity @originalpersonawobblerduck @crazyxforxmyself @brittaney341 

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

The man gulps loudly, his eyes flying over your face in the darkness. Your body is frozen stiff with terror, your brain short-circuiting as he takes another step forward.

“C-can I help you with anything?” The man stutters, his squeaky voice somehow matching his lanky appearance. He seems surprisingly nervous to find you here, but it’s not like that does much to soothe your fears. You grasp his desk behind your back, rooting yourself in the feeling of the cold wood beneath your palms.

“My computer died, I don’t know how to fix it,” You say, praying he doesn’t hear the slight tremor in your voice.

“But it can wait until tomorrow, sorry for bugging you!” You push off the desk with a strained smile, quickly maneuvering around him as you start walking towards the door with hurried steps.

“N-no wait, I can help you!” The loud footsteps rushing up behind you makes your shoulders shoot up to your ears with tension, your flight or fight response begging you to get out of there as fast as possible. But the man reaches your side before you can make a choice, his breath slightly labored from the sprint he just did across the room.

“Sure,” You wince as he walks past you, his long legs already carrying him up the stairs. You make sure to keep some space between you as you follow him. It feels a little ridiculous considering he hasn’t actually done anything bad, but you learned long ago that it’s important to trust your gut, and you still don’t have an explanation as to why he has your things.

The man abruptly stops as he reaches the first cluster of desks on your floor, letting you pass him by to lead him over to your computer. “It just turned off and won’t come back on,” You give yourself an internal round of applause for how steady your voice sounds, despite your heart feeling like it’s about to jump out of your chest.

He gives you a curt nod, eyes glued to your desk as he slides down into your chair. You step back to give him room, following his movements carefully as he opens up a panel to look inside the consol. You let your eyes wander slightly, just enough to realize how odd this guy really is.

His clothes don’t match up with the uniform the IT department normally wears, and his hair seems to be too long. You’re honestly surprised he has managed to keep it at that length; your boss would surely throw a fit if he ever noticed. Even if you pushed all of those things aside, he still has this air of something being a little off surrounding him, and it’s enough to keep you feeling alert.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as your screen suddenly lights up, the man shifting in your chair to stand. As he rises, the soft blue hue illuminating your desk catches on a weird pattern on his neck. You inch forward to get a better look, but his hair falls back down to cover it before you can see it properly. It’s probably just a tattoo of some kind, but you feel like the pattern looks oddly familiar for some reason.

“Y-you should try logging in and see if it works,” Another wave of unease washes over you as he turns his attention back to you. You’re not even sure if you have seen him blink yet. Pushing it into the back of your mind, you take a seat in front of him, all too aware of his presence just behind your back.

You quickly type in your information, fingers flying over the keyboard with a speed you didn’t even know you possessed. It feels like hours have passed before the screen finally changes to your homepage, but your relief is short-lived as the program you had been working in tries booting up and failing, again and again.

“I-it’s overworked. Y-you just need to close it down and fill in new information one by one,” You stiffen as the man reaches over your shoulder for the mouse, his other hand tapping away on the keyboard as he forcibly quits the program. You hold your breath as you feel his chest against your shoulders, his face way too close to yours for comfort.

Your lungs are burning for air when he finally pulls back, your hands wrapped together tightly in your lap.

“I-it should be okay now,” He stammers out, eyes gliding over your form one last time before he scurries out of your sight.

You collapse against the back of your chair, running your fingers through your hair as you take some deep breaths. You can still feel the ghost of his body against your own, the lingering coldness he seemed to be radiating. Sure - it’s getting closer and closer to winter, but how can someone be so cold? It doesn’t seem humanly possible.

You quickly snatch up your belongings, only tearing your eyes away from the entrance of the floor to make sure you’ve got everything. The more you learn about him, the more suspicious he becomes. Obviously him taking some stationary, acting weird and being cold isn’t enough to tell your boss about, but you decide you’re definitely going to be keeping an eye on him. Something just doesn’t sit right with you.

You practically run out of the office, the brisk air doing little to calm your mind as you hurry home.

.

You take a step back in surprise as you’re hit with a wall of warmth as soon as you open the door to your apartment. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Yoongi has been cranking up the heating while you’re at work. You sigh as you remove your shoes and coat, the electricity bill just adding to your long list of problems. While you would love to not have to worry about things like this and just let Yoongi do whatever he wants – the reality is that you can’t. Not unless you want the both of you to end up on the street.

“Yoongi?” You call out as you put away your purse. You’ve grown so used to Yoongi practically waiting for you at your door, or at least coming out to greet you, that not seeing or hearing him at all is weird.

“M’here,” A muffled voice comes from your bedroom, the sound barely making it past the tiny crack between the door and the frame. As you push it open, you’re greeted with the sight of Yoongi swaddled up in all the blankets you own, his furry cat ears barely peeking out on top of them.

“Comfortable?” You grin teasingly as you make your way over to your closet, pulling out some cozy clothes to change into. You feel like a magician as you try to pull out a sweater without knocking over everything on top of it. You ended up moving some clothes around to free up some space for Yoongi, but your already tiny closet doesn’t seem to be too happy about the change considering it threatens to spew out all of your clothes whenever you try to grab something.

“It’s cold,” Yoongi grumbles in response, his narrowed eyes barely visible underneath the mountain of blankets he’s surrounded himself with.

“It hasn’t grown that cold just overnight Yoongi,” You gesture over to his form, but Yoongi just huffs in response. You suppose it’s probably just a hybrid thing. Maybe he’s just more susceptible to the cold than you are.

“I don’t mind you taking all the blankets, but you can’t turn the heating up so high. It’s ..” You grimace, voice trailing off as you see Yoongi’s ears start to flatten. He probably can’t help it if he’s cold, and asking him to turn the heat down might just be cruel if his internal temperature is suddenly so wonky. Maybe you can just pick up some extra work somewhere else during the winter months.

“It’s too expensive. I forgot, I’m sorry,” Yoongi finally pokes his head fully out of the covers, the corner of his lips tugging downwards as he looks at you apologetically.

“It’s okay. A little extra heat is fine, just not on the highest setting,” You’re about to exit the room when you see the little shiver than seems to run through Yoongi’s body, the cat hybrid closing his eyes momentarily as it passes.

“Are you sick?! Is that why you’re feeling cold?” You hurry over to the bed, carefully placing your hand on Yoongi’s forehead to feel for his temperature. You almost hiss in surprise as you touch his skin, he’s absolutely freezing in comparison to you.

You feel Yoongi’s body stiffen under your touch, his eyes snapping up to yours as you flip your hand around. You were hoping you might just have cold hands from being outside but no, his temperature is definitely way lower than it should be.

“Why do you smell like that?” Yoongi’s voice is tense as he leans forward, his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhales your scent.

“Like what?” You turn your head to sniff your sweater, already moving back from Yoongi in case you happen to smell bad. But a cold hand shoots out of the blankets to grab yours before you can step away fully, Yoongi pulling you back. You’re practically kneeling on the bed in front of the cat hybrid, one hand almost touching his chest from how close he’s pulled you in.

“You smell like someone else,” He hisses. And oh, the realization hits you just a little too late. The IT guy must have left his scent on you when he touched you earlier. You watch as Yoongi shakes off his blankets, his tail bristling up as soon as it’s free.

“Oh,” You say dumbly as Yoongi’s expression darkens. You can’t figure out why he seems so upset – you can’t imagine that this is the first time you’ve ever come home smelling like another person. You hug Jihyo all the time after all.

“Oh?” He echoes, lips pressed into a firm line. “Are you not going to tell me who it was, kitten?”

Your mind goes blank at the nickname as Yoongi grabs a hold of your other hand, the movement so fast it makes you stumble forward on the bed. You swallow thickly as you find your hands pressed up against Yoongi’s chest, his pale fingers wrapped around your wrists. Yoongi watches you through hooded lids, his black cat ears twitching as he hears your shaky exhale.

“I-it’s not important. He’s not important,” You mutter, heat creeping up your neck as Yoongi’s tail brushes against your legs. You don’t want to mention the guy from work. You don’t have any hard evidence to show except for him being a little creepy, and you don’t want to worry Yoongi with it in case it pans out to be nothing more.  

“So it was a he,” A displeasured sound rumbles from Yoongi’s chest, the vibrations so strong you can feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Why does it matter?” You ask. Yoongi scoffs as he slowly inches closer, the look in his eyes bordering on predatory.

“Of course it matters,” Yoongi says, his face is so close you can count every eyelash. He pauses, eyes turning dark as they flicker down to your lips. “You should only smell like me, you’re my owner after all.”

“Owner?!” You choke, eyes widening in surprise at Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude. You had never thought of yourself as Yoongi’s owner – the idea of owning something that was even remotely human making you feel sick.

Yoongi only hums in response, fingers leaving your wrist to cup your cheek instead. “I belong to you, you belong to me. Isn’t that what you promised when you signed those papers at the shelter?”

Yoongi runs his thumb across your cheek, the touch so soft and delicate you wouldn’t even had known it was there, if it wasn’t for the trail of fire his fingertips leave behind on your skin.

“I thought you were a cat!” You sputter.

“And?” Yoongi’s hand slips from your face, a fingertip ghosting over the corner of your mouth before he drops it. His adverts his eyes with a frown, ears pinned back against his head as he leans back. Your face is burning, but at least the little distance he’s given you is enough to clear your mind from repeating Yoongi’s name over and over.

“I don’t want to own you, Yoongi. You’re a human being. It doesn’t work like that.” Yoongi’s grip loosens around your wrist, just enough to allow to you pull your hands back down into your lap.

“Fine, if you say so,” He hisses, hands scrambling to wrap the blankets back around himself once more. You slowly rise to your feet, your chest churning with uncertainty as you pick up the clothes you dropped on the floor earlier. You can feel Yoongi’s gaze burning into the side of your face through the small opening between the blankets.

“At least go wash off that stench.” He growls.

You don’t waste any time as you hurry out of the room, quickly closing the bathroom door behind you as you get inside. You rest your forehead against the wood, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

This whole situation has made you feel weird. Yoongi has never acted like this before, never been so obviouslyjealous of someone else touching you, and well, judging by the blush in your cheeks and the hard pounding of your heart, you kind of … like it. And you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with that realization.

You groan in despair as you quickly strip off your clothes, hopping into the shower to wash off whatever scent might be left lingering on your skin. You find yourself outside of your bedroom door again in no time, hand resting on the doorknob uncertainly. It’s not like you can avoid Yoongi or the feelings that suddenly jumped you out of nowhere forever, you live together in a pretty tiny apartment after all. You open the door just enough to catch a glimpse of the pile of blankets, your voice soft as you call out to him.

“Have you eaten any dinner yet?” You get a grunt in response, and you take that as a firm ‘no’.  You’re pretty sure Yoongi must be coming down with something based on how freezing he feels to the touch and with how weird he’s acting, so you figure at least getting him to eat is important.

For the first time since Yoongi started warming up to you, you eat your dinners separately.

The cat hybrid refused your offer to come out into the living room, instead telling you to leave the bowl of soup just inside the door to your bedroom. You obliged of course, not wanting to pressure him if he doesn’t feel well, but you’ve grown so used to Yoongi’s company that it feels strangely empty eating alone again.

You swirl your spoon around absentmindedly, watching as the pieces of vegetables float around in your bowl. You know Yoongi is only at the other side of the door, but it feels too far – too lonely. You chew on your lip, annoyed with how clingy you’re acting. If you’re already feeling like this after just living together for a month, you don’t want to know how attached you’re going to become later. You don’t even know how long Yoongi will stay; he has nothing tying him down here. You’re just something in-between, just a place for him to crash at until it’s safe for him to leave. You push your bowl away with a sigh, your appetite spoiled.

A quick look at your phone confirms that it’s time to go to sleep unless you want to be a walking zombie tomorrow. And if you happen spend a little extra time in the bathroom getting ready for bed, in hopes that Yoongi will have transformed and gone to sleep by the time you’re done, then well that’s nobody’s business besides your own. But you should have known you wouldn’t be that lucky.

Your heart flips when you open the door, a very human looking Yoongi staring right back at you. He’s sprawled across your bed, using every inch for what it’s worth. You notice that the pile of blankets has been pushed down to the floor by his side.

“I’m staying here tonight,” He announces, his tail swishing languidly back and forth over your comforter as he watches you move around the room. The bowl you gave him earlier is empty, so thankfully he still has an appetite.

“Don’t you do that every night?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow. Yoongi hums, his pupils growing larger the more light you turn off. His eyes roam over your face unabashedly, the glint in his eyes matching the lazy smirk that grows on his lips.

“Sure .. but not like this.”

“Like what?” You step up next to the bed, pausing in confusion as Yoongi suddenly gets under the duvet. He usually always sleeps on top of it.

“I’m staying here the way I am now – ” Yoongi tilts his head, the challenge clear in his eyes as he makes himself comfortable in your bed, “Human.”

“The couch is breaking my back, so I refuse to sleep there. And it’s too cold for you, so don’t even think about it,” He looks smug, clearly having read your thoughts as they formed in your head.

“What about the rule?” You huff.

“That rule was technically broken the first time I woke up human in your bed,” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he impatiently pats the space next to him.

“Fine, just .. stay on your side,” You say as you pull back the cover, flicking off your bedside light as you climb into bed. You’ve barely laid down before you feel Yoongi’s tail brush against your calves, your sleepwear doing little to cover your legs.

“What did I just say?” You mumble, twisting your neck to look in Yoongi’s direction. You freeze as you find a pair of golden eyes staring back at you, the sliver of light coming from your window illuminating his eyes in the darkness.

“What? I’m on still on my side,” You can hear the teasing tilt to Yoongi’s voice as his tail swipes over your leg, the soft fur almost ticklish against your bare skin.

“Yoongi ..” Your words die in your throat as a cold hand wraps around yours under the covers. Yoongi easily slots your fingers together, golden eyes unblinking as he looks back at you.

“But I’m cold – No, I’m freezing,” He whines. Yeah, you think, Yoongi is definitely sick. There’s no way your grumpy hybrid roommate would ever sound so needy if he wasn’t.

You feel torn, and the fact that your fingers are itching to reach out and tug him closer just makes it even worse. Yoongi is obviously not in his right mind, and considering how your heart was trying to jump out of your chest earlier you have a sneaking feeling that your feelings for Yoongi aren’t all that platonic anymore. You don’t want to take the risk of making the friendship between you turn sour if he wakes up and regrets it in the morning. You’re not sure you can handle going back to how things were before.

“Please?” Yoongi softly adds, your resolve slowly chipping away for every pleading squeeze Yoongi gives your hand. You don’t need any light to imagine the puppy dog eyes he must be giving you in the darkness. You’re sure he could give Sana a run for her money.

“Only until you’re feeling warmer,” The words barely escape your lips before Yoongi brings you closer, his golden eyes glittering in the darkness. He expertly turns you over on your side as his arm snakes around your waist, fluffy tail wrapping around your leg. Yoongi tucks his face against the back of your neck with a content sigh, as shiver travelling down your spine as the puff of air hits your skin.

Your body locks up in shock, partly from having Yoongi pressed up against your back, but also from the icy feel of his skin. You definitely underestimated just how cold he was, it’s no wonder he was buried under so many blankets earlier.

“Thank you,” Yoongi mumbles against your hair, the arm around your waist tightening slightly. You can’t seem to form a coherent thought with Yoongi wrapped around you, but thankfully it doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for an answer.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the familiar broken purrs coming from Yoongi’s chest, the vibrations almost comforting against your back. As Yoongi’s breathing evens out, so does the tension in your body. He doesn’t feel as cold anymore, but that might be because you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out.

You would like to chalk it up to just being nervous because you haven’t been with anyone in a long time, but you know that isn’t true. You’re not nervous because someone is holding you, you’re nervous because that someone is Yoongi. You let out a soft sigh, Yoongi’s cat ears twitching against your jaw in response. You’re still not sure if this is the best idea, but it’s too late now. You’ll just have to deal with whatever outcome that will happen in the morning.

.

You wake up just in time to silence your alarm, your mind reeling to catch up as you feel soft breaths spill against your neck. It takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi is still cuddled up against your back, and another to realize how his temperature has shifted from freezing to boiling hot. You feel like you’re sleeping next to a furnace, and the drastic change worries you a lot more than what you would like to admit. It would probably be best to call in sick and stay home to make sure he’s okay, but then Jihyo would definitely be over after work to check on you, and that would probably just cause even more problems.

“I’m fine, you can go to work,” You let out a startled sound as Yoongi’s raspy voice fills your ears, the cat hybrid snuggling closer to your neck. You hear him inhale deeply, a happy rumble coming from his chest as he smells your mixed scents.

“You don’t feel fine to me Yoongi,” You desperately try to ignore how attractive his voice sounds, fighting to hold back the blush you can feel is starting to bloom on your cheeks.

“S’okay, nothing to worry about. Just need to sleep,” Yoongi untangles himself slowly, a low whine of protest escaping his lips as he flips around. He has never had to fight so hard with himself to let go, his instincts screaming at him to claim you.

You sit up to find that his ears are pinned back, his tail sliding from your legs to wrap around his own. He curls up into a ball, his hair plastered to the back of his neck. You gently lay a hand on his shoulder, but the wounded noise he lets out makes you snatch your hand back just as quickly.

“Please go,” Yoongi begs. “Don’t come back today. Stay with your friend and her dog,” Yoongi’s pained voice shifts into a growl at the mention of Jihyo and Sana. The sudden animosity in his voice almost gives you whiplash, but you have a sneaking suspicion he might be running a fever based on how hot he feels.

“Yoongi,” You hesitate. You can’t leave him alone if he’s sick, especially since you can’t take him to the hospital to get treated. He deserves to have someone to care for him.

“I said, go!” Yoongi whirls around so fast you almost tumble off the bed, the wild expression in Yoongi’s face making your stomach twist. His hair is sticking out to all sides, eyes blown out despite the light in the room. He reminds you of an animal ready to pounce as he lets out a loud hiss, his canines poking out over his lips.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing the first things you can see as you hurry out of the room. The moment you close the door behind you something smacks hard against it, Yoongi’s labored breathing sounding through from the other side. You’re about to open it to check if he’s okay when the lock clicks shut, and Yoongi lets out another growl.

“I wouldn’t want to stick around for too long if I were you kitten.”

You can’t remember the last time you got ready so quickly, only pausing in your quest to hurriedly pull out some food for Yoongi in case he gets hungry. While his sudden shift in demeanor scares you a little, you can’t help but worry. Something is definitely wrong, and while it might bring your early demise, you only have one person you trust enough to ask.

.

“I told you!” Sana chirps, her body seemingly a little confused if she should be happy or concerned that she’s been proven right. You waited until after work to spill the truth about Yoongi, not trusting the office to be a safe place to share any secrets.

Jihyo looks like she’s holding herself back from strangling you, a mix of anger and concern pulling her features tight.

“I thought you wanted me to get a hybrid?” You ask, leaning back in your chair as Jihyo points a shaking finger in your direction.

“Not like this y/n! You have no idea if Yoongi is telling you the truth. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to let your guard down so that he can murder you in your sleep!” She hisses, the action so similar to Yoongi it makes you feel even guiltier for leaving him alone at home.

“You and me both know he would’ve done that ages ago if that was the case,” You frown, anger lacing your voice at Jihyo’s ridiculous accusations. Jihyo crosses her arms with a huff.

“Scared,” Sana suddenly chimes in, her eyes glued to the table as you and Jihyo turn your attention to the dog hybrid. “He was scared. When I picked up the scent that was his strongest emotion,” She hangs her head, her white ears drooping down.

“I don’t think he would ever hurt y/n. He just seemed terrified that he would be exposed and thrown out,” You can see the guilt forming on Sana’s face, Jihyo reached out to comfort her immediately.

“It’s not your fault honey, you were just trying to protect my friend – your friend,” Jihyo pats Sana’s head comfortingly.

“I think he’s sick,” You mumble. “I can’t take him to get checked out in case they alert his owner, but I don’t know how to help him either. He looked really terrible when I left him,” Truth be told, you hadn’t been able to focus all day, your worry constantly eating away at your concentration.

Jihyo sighs, tiredly running a hand over her face as Sana leans against her shoulder.

“What kind of sick are we talking?”

“He was freezing yesterday, but when he woke up today he was burning up,” You miss the way Sana’s eyes light up in recognition, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

“Oh, uh, anything else?” Jihyo’s voice grows weird, her eyes refusing to meet yours.

“I guess he’s been clingier lately? But I just thought that was him opening up more,” You bite your lip, trying to rack your brain to remember if Yoongi has been acting weird in any other way.

“Yesterday he was uhm, uncharacteristically jealous? He said I had someone else’s scent on me, and he seemed like he absolutely hated it,” You wince.

Jihyo chokes on her breath, Sana quickly excusing herself from the table to fetch her a glass of water. Your friend glares at Sana’s retreating back with a look of betrayal as her coughing ceases.

“Yoongi isn’t sick,” Jihyo clears her throat.

“Really?” You slump against your seat in relief, but it’s short-lived. That’s should be great news, so why does she look so concerned?

“Yeah, what he’s experiencing isn’t a sickness, but rather something all hybrids go through,” You nod uncertainly as Jihyo grimaces.

“Sana had those symptoms a little while after I brought her home too, it’s uh, their heat. Or in Yoongi’s case, his rut,” Jihyo says, her hands twisting on top of the table as she tries to figure out the best way to explain it.

“It happens naturally a few times a year, you can’t really do anything to stop it. Normally the symptoms are a lot milder than what you described, but I’m guessing Yoongi’s body might have suppressed his rut for a while if he wasn’t in a safe environment. So I think this might have been multiple ruts hitting him all at once,” You can’t help but feel a little pleased at Jihyo’s comment, that Yoongi must finally feel safe for his body to try to correct what has been pushed down for so long, but it’s quickly overtaking by concern.

“So it’s worse than just a normal rut then?” You ask. Jihyo nods in response.

“I’m obviously not a hybrid doctor, but I did a lot of research before I got Sana. Usually hybrids can do just fine on their own during their heats or ruts, they just have a heightened sex drive for a few days. But for Yoongi .. It’s probably really painful to go through it without a partner. And who knows how long it might last since it’s multiple ruts stacked into once.”

“Fuck,” You murmur. You should have done some research the moment you realized he was a hybrid. He shouldn’t have to suffer just because you’re ignorant of his needs. You might not be his legal owner, but you still took him in and practically promised him you would take care of him while he stayed with you.

“Is it too late to find a partner for him now?” You give Jihyo a pleading look, desperately hoping she might have the solution to your problems.

“No .. not really. I’m sure you could find a female cat hybrid somewhere that could be with him,” Jihyo watches you carefully as the words sink in, your heart being dragged to the bottom of your stomach along with them. While the thought of Yoongi being with someone else – and in your bed of all places – makes you feel terrible, this can’t be about you. Not when Yoongi is in pain.

“But even if you do find someone, it doesn’t mean he’ll accept them.” She pauses, eyes flickering over to Sana’s returning form before settling back on you.

“He might have already chosen a mate for his rut,” Sana sinks back into her seat besides Jihyo, the dog hybrid clasping one of your friend’s hands tightly between her own. Jihyo swallows hard, Sana giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“If his behavior is anything to go by .. I think Yoongi might have already chosen you.”

- - - - Oh uh, is that some incoming smut I'm smelling? Hope y'all are ready for a chapter that will mainly be 90% filth, aksjsj. And our resident creeper is just becoming more and more suspicious, isn't he? P.s. In case you’ve missed it, I’m doing a follower event where you can request prompt for me to fulfill! So definitely check that out here if that’s something that interests you.  Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

[we-love-imagines]

Little Secret

Valentine’s Event: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Prompt: Kakyoin + Tattoos

Ao3 Link

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope you’ve enjoyed my little fic collection over this past week, it was so much fun to write! I’d like to thank @magthemage for beta reading all these stories! Go read her stuff, she’s awesome!

This story in particular is an everyone lives! au, where you are a former Stardust Crusader, and you, Kakyoin, and Jotaro are all college students who enroll in an American University and share an apartment. Also, while the reader is gender-neutral, I did say they were smaller than the rest of the crusaders... sorry if you’re a beefcake! There’s also the tiniest bit of suggestiveness, but no actual nsfw. Everyone in this fic is aged up to be over 21, and please drink responsibly! Enjoy!

“Kakyoin!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arm around your sober friend’s shoulder, “C’mon, it’ll be so cool!”

“Yeah, we can all get ‘em in the same spot too! It’ll be so rad! C’mon, even Jotaro is down!” Polnareff slurred from the other side of the table, motioning to Jotaro who only gave a solemn thumbs up.

“We are not getting matching tattoos,” Kakyoin deadpanned, getting tired of all his companion’s drunk antics. It’s funny- after defeating Dio, he thought all his troubles were over. But, because the injuries he got in Egypt rendered him unable to drink, he was forever doomed to be the designated driver.

Unluckily for him, this was a rowdy group to handle.

“Kakyoin,” Mr.Joestar placed a hand on his shoulder, brushing you off of him, “We’ll even let you pick. It’s not as cool if we don’t all get one.”

“You’re all wasted,” he chuckled, looking at how all of his friends swayed, red in the face, letting the conversation wander aimlessly after way too many shots. After you all defeated Dio, you made it a tradition to meet up and celebrate the bastard’s death by getting as plastered as possible. While you still saw the others fairly regularly, seeing as you, Jotaro, and Kakyoin became roommates after high school, it was nice to have the others fly in to see everyone again.

Kakyoin watched as Jotaro and Avdol sat in silence, the former’s signature cap pulled over his eyes. They were subdued drunks, getting all quiet when under the influence. Kakyoin noticed how Avdol would turn a tad introspective after a few shots, abruptly bringing up thought-provoking questions like “Do Stands Dream?” or “Where do the clouds go after they roll by?” Jotaro, on the other hand, tended to mellow out. His short fuse stretched out a bit when he was drunk, and for once, he could take a joke.

Polnareff and Joseph, on the other hand, embodied pure chaos. Joseph would always try to instigate things: karaoke, bar fights, getting matching tattoos, and Polnareff would sing his praises and go along with all of his crazy schemes. Somehow, the Frenchman would get even louder, barking for the bartender to bring him more shots so he could out-drink everyone in the building.

Then, there was you. While you could certainly hold your booze better than others of your stature, you were no match for the hulking giants that were your fellow crusaders. So, while you kept pace with them while you were drinking, you would get shit-faced before they were feeling the slightest bit buzzed. While you were usually pretty fun and adventurous, the alcohol in your system turned that up to eleven, making you down for anything and everything.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool to get something together?” You grinned to Kakyoin, eyes wide with excitement, “To show how close we are after everything that happened, Jotaro?”

“You’re talking to Kakyoin, (Y/n),” he sighed, calling the bartender over for the bill. You had all had more than enough for the night.

“Then why are you wearing that funny hat, hm?” You said, flicking Kakyoin’s pronounced bang with a giggle. You were trashed. Kakyoin thought about your impending wrath tomorrow, and having to deal with a hangover for the ages.

“What would we get for a tattoo? Dio’s name?” Polnareff asked the group, sitting back in the booth seat. Jotaro, with surprisingly little bite in his voice, grumbled and shook his head.

“I’m not getting that asshole’s name anywhere on my body.”

“Y’know that picture we took? When we first got to Egypt?” Joseph spoke up, “We could all get that across our backs!”

“That’s way too complex!” Polnareff protested with a smile. You got everyone’s attention when you slapped your hands down on the table with a thundering ‘boom.’

“Guys,” you beamed, pure excitement in your voice, “Iggy. Tramp. Stamps.”

The table fell silent as everybody stared at you blankly. For a moment, Kakyoin thought everyone would laugh at your silly idea. That was the tackiest tattoo anyone has ever thought up!

Polnareff, with a look as serious as death, gave a resounding “Hell yeah!”

After that, all hell broke loose, as even the more subdued members of the group went along with the idea. It was agreed that Iggy, who Polnareff took in after everything went down, would get a collar with his own face on it in solidarity. Despite the risqué location, everyone seemed pumped to get matching tramp stamps of the world’s grumpiest Boston Terrier. Even Jotaro was nodding along as the more vocal members rambled on and on.

“Okay, it’s time to go,” Kakyoin shouted over the group, causing the uproar to die down for a moment, “I’m driving, let’s get in the car.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s doing it,” you cheered, wrapping Kakyoin in a tight, powerful hug, “Kakyoin’s gonna drive us to the tattoo parlor!”

The others broke out in celebration, high-fiving each other as they readied themselves to get all inked-up. The bartender gave Kakyoin a sorry look as he herded everyone into his car, having to walk you there the whole way as you stumbled through the parking lot.

It seemed that everyone felt dizzy as they stood up from their seats, and while Polnareff and Joseph were still a little talkative, the car’s atmosphere was a lot more relaxed than the bar’s. Kakyoin had done this drive a few times before, having to calm down his former travel companions after a hearty night of drinking, so he had it down to a science. Putting a CD labeled “Joseph had a Crazy Idea -Mix” into the player, Kakyoin drove around the block a few times, waiting patiently for the conversation to die down.

Soon enough, the car fell silent as everyone stooped into a drunken haze, bodies limp in their seats as they nearly dozed off to sleep. However, you were buckled into the passenger’s seat, lightly snoring as you drifted into dreamland. Just as expected.

As Kakyoin slowly dropped off the various men at their hotels, who had forgotten about their planned misadventure in their intoxicated stupor, he found himself smiling at your sleeping form as you wormed around in your seat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for you- he knew he did all the way back when you two were teenagers, when you saved him from certain death at Dio’s hand- and seeing you like this always warmed his heart. You were a battle-hardened badass like the rest of them, having seen Dio’s horrors at an age that was simply too young for comfort; but here you were, sleeping peacefully with the giddiest look on your face imaginable.

Sometimes, being your roommate was hard. He knew you were so close, that he could just walk over to your room and confess his ever-growing feelings for you whenever he wanted, that one day he could share a bed with this sleeping angel right next to him. It was on days like this that he realized why he liked you so much: you were kind, cute, and a lot more fun then he was.

Pulling up to your apartment, Jotaro slowly made his way out of the backseat, not even giving Kakyoin a passing glance as he went into the apartment. Leaving Kakyoin to deal with your passed out form, the red-head sighed, unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulled your from the car. He carried you up a flight of stairs, careful not to let you stir, using Hierophant to open the apartment’s door.

Jotaro looked dead, passed out face-down on the couch. Kakyoin rolled his eyes as Hierophant pulled a blanket over his friend- he’d be a pleasure to deal with in the morning. 

“Jotaro,” you giggled out, taking Kakyoin by surprise as you lightly flicked his bang around, “Are we at the tattoo parlor yet?”

Kakyoin quickly tried to shush you, rushing into your room so as to not wake your more aggressive roommate, “No, (Y/n), I’m Kakyoin.”

“Jotaro,” you repeated, much to Kakyoin’s sober displeasure, “Do you think Kakyoin is gonna get the tattoo?”

“I don’t think so, you should try and get some rest,” he whispered to you, setting you down on your bed. He helped you take off your shoes, and despite being in full dress, you make yourself cozy under the covers.

“That’s too bad,” you sighed dramatically, looking up at him through blurry vision, “I was hoping I could see his ass while he got his tattoo. You know how much I like his butt!”

Taken back by your comment, Kakyoin couldn’t stop the hearty laugh that slipped through his lips. He knew he shouldn’t press this topic further, but he was so amused he couldn’t help himself.

“You like Kakyoin’s ass, huh?”

“Duh!” you laughed along with the man, despite not knowing what ‘Jotaro’ found so funny, “Have you seen him in that one pair of skinny jeans he owns? Hot Damn!”

Kakyoin started laughing even harder, wishing he could record this conversation and show it to you later. You’d probably kill him, but this was a nice treat after a long night of dealing with a hollering group of drunken idiots. However, he couldn’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy at your words- did you really find him attractive? It felt really nice to be thought of that way, especially by you.

“I think that ass is made of pure boyfriend material, if you ask me,” you snorted, taking Kakyoin completely by surprise, “Jojo, I know you tell me to just man-up and ask him out, but I don’t wanna scare him away. If he doesn’t like me anymore, he won’t take me to get tattoos!”

Kakyoin froze, trying to process everything he just heard. While cheesy, he never wanted to forget that ‘boyfriend material’ line, or the way your voice softened while you spoke about him. He was in awe of the fact that you had feelings for him- feelings so strong that they had to be confided in Jotaro- and how you feared that he wouldn’t be interested. The red-head was puzzled by your doubts. How could someone as wonderful as you ever not be enough? How could you ever think he didn’t return your feelings? Sometimes, he felt like his feelings were obvious- but, here he was, standing before you as you wearily blinked up at him, eyelids becoming heavy.

“Shhhhh, don’t tell him!” You yawned, weakly dragging your finger over his lips, “Wake me when we get to the tattoo parlor...”

Kakyoin watched your head clunk down onto the pillow, and you were out like a light. After tucking you in, he left the room feeling a little guilty; that was obviously a secret you didn’t want him to hear. However, at the same time, he was over the moon. The person he had admired for years was suddenly in his grasp, finally attainable after years and years of silent pining. 

Before he went to bed, Kakyoin made a point to pull his skinny jeans from his closet, laying them out on top of his dresser. He’d be needing them for tomorrow- he wanted his ass to look good while he asked you out, is all.

[hqsoftboysupremecy]

D&D PERSONALITY

Personality #5 is Kei Tsukishima. I hope you all enjoy!

Kei Tsukishima:

Race: The Human Race for Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) Fifth Edition (5e) - D&D Beyond (dndbeyond.com)

Class: Artificer - DND 5th Edition (wikidot.com)

Description: Kei would be a Human Artificer. An Artificer is someone who likes to make creations that are able to enhance their magical ability. Normally they are very smart people and work very hard to achieve the results that they want with their magic. This makes sense to me because I feel that at first he wouldn’t really care about his magic or anything like that, but his mind would change once he realized that he could use it to save people (like Yamaguchi and his brother). Maybe he also has a bit of a corruption arc because he gets a little too power hungry.

"So you're telling me that the guy we have to go and fight used to be your best friend?"

The green haired boy beside you released a tired sigh from between his lips. "Yes y/n that's what I've been saying this whole time."

You knew that is what Yamaguchi had been saying this whole time but you felt the need to hear it from him again. Nothing he said made sense. How was it that this power hungry and rude person that Yamaguchi spoke so fondly of used to be this guys friend.

Tadashi had come to you and your friends for help a few weeks back. Along with his shy and lovely personality he brought stories about his old friend Kei Tsukishima and how he was a causing trouble in a small town. Yamaguchi claimed that this is not how his friend would normally act and that there must be something, or someone, controlling him. You and your friends took pity on him and decided to try and help, plus the large sum of gold that he promised was a welcome push to aid this freckled boy.

A few days passed until you finally made it to the town that Kei was terrorizing. There was an obvious dark air to the town and little to no people were out and about. You could sense some sort of darker magic at work, but you were unsure if it was Kei or something else.

"This is the place." Yamaguchi led you and your party to a small shack just outside of the town. The windows were boarded shut and the garden out front was completely dead despite it being the middle of spring.

Raising a curious brow at Tadashi you shook off your worries. This guy couldn't be so bad could he?

Walking to the door Yamaguchi carefully knocked on the old wooden door, you couldn't help but think that it could use a fresh coat of paint. There was the sound of footsteps behind the door, which more than shocked you.

The door was flung open and you saw the most handsome, yet the grumpiest man you had ever seen in your life. His hair was short and blonde, glasses perched on his nose and a scowl that seemed to be forever etched onto his nice looking face. You couldn't help but think that this man only smiled when he saw a small child face plant into mud.

"What is it?" The man that you assumed to be Kei snapped. Did he not notice his old friend before him?

Yamaguchi opened his mouth to speak but then quickly shut it. You decided to save your poor freckled friend from his lack of words.

"Hello there Mr. Tsukishima. I am y/n l/n and I am with my friends here and an old friend of yours." You gestured to the green haired boy still standing in front of Kei.

Kei finally looked down at the boy before him and a flash of recognition go across his golden brown eyes. You could tell there was something else in his eyes, a darker magic was obviously at work here.

"I am not taking visitors at the moment. Sorry to disappoint. " It was obvious that what he said did not reach his eyes. There was a sort of longing to them.

"Well that's too bad," you replied, "...we are here to check in on you and perhaps help you a bit."

Kei thought for a moment and then opened the door for you all to enter. You entered last as everyone filtered into the main room, but before you could join the others you felt a firm hand wrap around your bicep. Looking down the hand had bandages around their fingers, this guy must be a klutz. Turning your gaze higher you met the piercing gaze of Kei. He truly was beautiful up close, and he was close. Bringing face down to the side of your head he whispered into your ear, "I'm assuming Tadashi asked for your help. That was rather smart of him. I hope you and your friends are much more competent than you look." Kei's breath tickled your ear and your face grew hot. You were about to make a curt remark when he cut you off, "If you help me there will be a great reward for you all."

Stepping back and standing back to his full height he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours. There was an obvious emptiness from where his hand had touched you and you craved for the feeling again. Shaking your head to clear your impure thoughts you met up with your party and Tadashi.

[jiaraendgame]

Hi! Can you write a little blurb about Rafe?? Maybe like his reaction to you deep cleaning your guys’ apartment and maybe you found a number or something? And he reassures you that it’s not what you think?? Idk something like that. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, thank you!

Wires Crossed Rafe x Reader

A/N: Lovely anon I’m sorry this took two days to finish up! Thank you so much for being the first person ever to ask me for a blurb! I had planned for it to be done way sooner, but uh I got a bit carried away. I am not good at writing anything small so oops! This is lowkey no longer a little blurb as requested but a full imagine/fic I hope you like this little adventure! 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past drug abuse, baby angst, fluff, domestic Rafe. Non-canon Rafe IE he isn’t a murderer. Probs out of character a bit cause I lowkey usually write the psycho mean Rafe so this was a challenge but I enjoyed it!

Word Count: 3k+

It was no surprise you were up before Rafe was. You’d always been an early riser. However, when you awoke right as the sun just began to kiss your cheeks through the blinds, you knew you’d be waiting quite some time for your sleepy boyfriend to join you for the day. You look up at Rafe’s soft face. Mouth slightly ajar as faint hums of breath leave his lips. He looked so saintly at this moment. You didn’t want to disturb him, so you attempted to slip from his arms, but the motion caused the boy to stir. Curse his light sleeping, you thought. The boy's eyes softly fluttered open and gazed down at you as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning, angel…” his voice slurred in its sleepy tone. “Where are you going so early this morning? It’s barely even…” He glances at the clock sitting on the nightstand. “Baby… it’s barely even 6:30am, don’t leave me yet.” He whines as he wraps his arms back around your torso.

You giggle at the pout on his face as he reels you in burying his face in your neck. You can feel his breath on your skin, tempting you to lay here with him for a moment longer. However, you knew if you didn’t get up now, you’d be late for the events Rafe had planned for the day.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe, I was just trying to prepare for today. Seeing as you haven’t told me any of the events you had in store. I need to be ready for anything with you.” A light giggle escapes your lips.

“ Just close your eyes again love, you can drift back off for a while, and in another hour or so, you can join me, okay? Just because I’m up doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“But baby doll, I want to make sure you are rested for the day I have planned. You know me and the boys can get a bit chaotic, I don’t need you getting worn out because of us.”

It’s true whenever Topper and Kelce visited from the Outer Banks, you were sure in for a rush of excitement that often ended up tiring you out. Unfortunately, you were the type of person who once you were awake, there was no way for you to fall back asleep. Even if you are comfortable and safe in the arms of your love.

The boy was drifting back to sleep, and you used this as your opportunity to free yourself from his loving grip. One more sleepy glance and sigh, leaving Rafe’s lips. He knew he has lost this battle. 

“Looks like you’re the one who will need the rest babe, just sleep a bit more I will be out in the living room when you are ready to get up.” You whisper to Rafe placing a soft but chaste kiss to his lips. “Sweet dreams, my sleepy boy.”

He smiles as you pull away, “I’ll be dreaming of you, angel.” With that, it was not long before Rafe had fallen back into his slumber. You raise from the bed as softly as you can silently leave the bedroom, closing the door with a subtle click. Today was shaping up to be interesting if Rafe was this lovey-dovey in his sleepy state.

Looking around your small apartment, you began to realize that neither of you had cleaned for days. There was glassware and other miscellaneous dishes piled in the sink. Books and papers spread across the breakfast bar from your late-night study session. But the worst culprit was the living room. There were clothes on the floor next to the almost toppling hamper and throw blankets splayed across the back of the futon. 

It’s not that you and Rafe were messy, quite the opposite usually, but as of late with everything going on, you both let your daily tasks slip your minds. The small one-bedroom apartment looked as if a tornado blew through it, and thus you found your distraction to keep you occupied until Rafe was ready to go to brunch. Topper and Kelce were visiting from the Outer Banks, and you couldn’t have them see your apartment in this state. Even if they were used to more luxurious accommodations, you didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable in your home. These were Rafe’s best friends, after all, you had to remind them that you could hang with the best of them even if you lacked the money they had. 

Even though you had been with Rafe going on 3 years now, you worried you weren’t good enough for him. So you always went the extra mile to impress the people in his life. Even though you didn’t have to. Rafe loved you for you, and you found each other at the right time. You saved Rafe from his downfall of addiction. Taking him in when his father kicked him out. Saving him from himself and ultimately helping him grow as a person. He uplifted you and motivated you to work towards your dreams that you once believed would amount to nothing. He proved to you that you were worth more than the words of hate that your mother spewed to you daily. He pushed you to achieve the best, and now you are going for your degree in criminal justice. The final push you needed to go for your goal was witnessing Rafe break down when his father was sentenced for murder. That nearly sent the boy over the edge, but you pulled him back, and that was when Rafe knew you were the one. You two were like a puzzle that just clicked, fitting into place so perfectly it was frightening for both of you.

Sighing at the chores in front of you, you decide to tackle the kitchen first, cleaning the dishes while simultaneously getting water everywhere. This is why Rafe was in charge of the dishes. You always seemed to make more of a mess than you planned to. Rafe would always joke that you weren’t meant to be a housewife. After cleaning up the dishes and mopping up the new mess you created on the floor, your first task was done. Before wiping down the counters, you cleaned off and organized your notes and books from the breakfast bar. These were the times you really wished you had a house with its own study, much like Rafe’s childhood home. It was evident with the two of you living together for so many years that you started to run out of space. As you cleaned, things began to feel better, the atmosphere calmer. 

You threw on a pot of coffee so it would be ready for when Rafe woke up, knowing he needed his caffeine before facing the day. Let’s just say if he didn’t get his morning cup, he was the poutiest and grumpiest of bears all day. You giggled to yourself, thinking back to the first time Rafe stayed over with you. You never drank coffee. It wasn’t your beverage of choice, but boy did you quickly invest in a small coffee maker when you saw him without caffeine. He stumbled out of your bedroom, groggy rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and subconsciously raided your cabinets for a mug. The shock on his face when you told him you didn’t drink coffee still makes you chuckle. He whined at you like a child until you took him to the nearest Starbucks. He was cute when he was grumpy, but boy did his childlike manner know how to get under your skin. This boy was no morning person.

Out in the living room, you started to gather up the throw blankets and folded them neatly, placing them inside the ottoman next to the futon. Sighing, you knew you had to attack the mountain of laundry next. You gathered the near toppling hamper and dragged it to the door so it would be ready to run down to the laundromat, but you couldn’t leave the excess pile on the floor. You grabbed an empty basket and started throwing clothes into it. A mix of sweatshirts, pants, polos, and crop tops quickly filled the small wicker basket The remaining items left behind are a pair of your jean shorts followed by a pair of Rafe’s khakis.

You picked up Rafe’s tan khaki shorts, and they feel heavier than normal. You dig your hand into his pockets and pull out the spare apartment keys that hung on a lanyard. Setting them on the table, you notice a torn piece of paper had slipped to the floor. You pick it up and see a number scribbled out on it. That was odd.

Why did Rafe have a random number in his shorts? Why didn’t he just keep it on his phone if he needed it? Who’s number was this? Was he using again? Your head spiraled, and panic set it. There was no way he’d hurt you, right? Not after everything you’ve two have been through. He loved you, right? You loved him. 

You knew better than to panic, but those three little words swallowed your heart when you thought of Rafe, and if there was any chance, he didn’t feel the same you had to know. Against your better judgment, you pull your phone off the charger and start to dial the number. Hesitating before pressing send.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Click...

“Hello?”

You gulp at the sound of a sickeningly sweet voice that answered the phone.

“Uhm yeah hi, sorry, but w-who is this?”

“This is Stacey, who is this?” The sweet voice sounded just as confused as your thoughts were.

“I found this number in my b-“ you pause before finishing your sentence. Instead, opting for asking what you need to know.

“Do you know Rafe Cameron?” You blurt out the string of words connected by one fast breath.

“Oh! Rafe! Yes, of course, I know him. He’s such a cutie!” The voice rang out with a giggle.

“We spent some wild times together back in the day, but anyways I never caught your name or why you’re calling actually.” She spoke a hazed tone to her voice.

The line was silent. You didn’t know what to say or think anymore. Only one thought rang in your head. Rafe was cheating on you.

Before Stacey could speak again, you hung up the phone. A mix of hurt and angry tears slipping from your sockets. You couldn’t believe he did this. All the times he told you you were his only one had all been lies. Nothing made sense, and throwing 3 years of a relationship down the drain hurt more than you could have ever imagined.

You loved this boy with all your heart, and he shattered yours. Your emotions took over as if you were on autopilot. You watched your actions unfold from within. You picked up the basket of clothes and stormed into the bedroom. The doorknob hit the wall startling the sleeping boy, but before he could realize what was going on, you dumped the clothes onto him in a huff.

“Did ya lose something, babe?” You seethe through your teeth.

The groggy boy wiping sleep from his eyes stutters out, barely coherent words.

“Wh-What? What’s going on? Baby, are you okay?”

You scoff at Rafe, “Am I okay? Ha! I’d be a lot better if I had never found this fall out of your pocket this morning, asshole.”

You ball up and chuck the torn paper at Rafe, who looks from your beet-red face back to the paper. Eyes going wide at your discovery.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? I can’t believe after everything you’d stoop so low Rafe Cameron.”

“I really fucking thought you’d changed, that you weren’t some arrogant prick who begged the world to praise the ground you walked on, but I guess I was wrong. Can take the boy from the Kooks but can’t take the Kook out of the boy.” You spat your words out.

“N-no baby, you don’t understand hold on just let me explain!”

“Explain what? That you cheated on me with some bitch named Stacey? That you held my heart in your hand and knowingly crushed it just to get your rocks off? Pathetic Rafe truly and utterly pathetic!”

Rafe was visibly upset, looking at you through glassy eyes. He didn’t want you to be hurt. That’s the last thing he wanted, but there was no way you’d listen to him that this was all just a big misunderstanding.

“Baby doll, please just take a few breaths. This is not what you think.” He sweeps his arms up and pulls your hands into his. You sit on the edge of the bed, avoiding his gaze.

“I swear to you I would never in my life do anything to hurt you. Babe, how could I? I love you more than anyone on this godforsaken planet.”

You looked over to Rafe, the anger you held, turning to pure sadness. You didn’t know what to think, so all you could do was listen. 

He rubbed circles with his thumbs on the backs of your hands. Holding you tight. “You’re my person, baby doll. My only person. You came into my life when I was so lost. You picked me up when my father kicked me out. You got me to get clean and was with me through all the relapsing and withdrawals. You never left my side. Always faithful. I would never dream of breaking your heart when you’re the one who found mine.” 

You sigh a shaky breath and look into your beautiful boyfriend's eyes, still just as lost, but you knew what he said was real. The warmth in your heart grew once more. Leaning into his touch, you speak with a sheepish tone.

“If this is a misunderstanding, then tell me the honest truth, Rafe. Who is Stacey, and why did you have her number?”

Rafe cups your face with his hands and looks you straight in the eyes.

“Y/N, I love you, okay?” 

He waits a minute, and getting no response from you, he continues. 

“Stacey is one of Sarah’s old friends from the Banks. We hung out a bit back in the day, but that was years ago. She was a big partier and a bit of an enabler. We would both do lines together and raise a bit of hell, but honestly, that's all our friendship was.”

“Okay... why are you talking to her now?”

“Well, baby, Sarah gave me her number because Stacey runs a well known...  uh, business.” The hesitation in your boy's voice makes you wince. Was he lying again?

“And what kind of business are we talking about? Rafe, you told me you’d be honest. I-I can’t take the lying, please just be straight with me here.”

Rafe sighed as he was about to come clean, but luck was on his side. You hear the rough knock knock knock come from the front of the apartment. Your guests were here. You knew this was his escape plan now, hoping you wouldn’t bring anything up in front of his friends. Usually, he’d be right, but this time you weren’t letting him off the hook. Not with how hurt you were feeling.

Rafe and you both stepped towards the door, opening it to see two smiling faces. Topper and Kelce looked strangely eager.

“My boys! You couldn’t have come at a better time!” The shirtless and sweat-panted boy spoke ushering his friends in.

They exchanged hugs and a few quick whispers as you stood back arms crossed.

“So, do you two know about Stacey?” The words fall out of your mouth.

They look at her and back to Rafe, concern in their eyes.

“Uhh, I mean, we know Stacey from back in the day,” Kelce spoke openly.

“Yeah she was pretty cool, I wonder what she’s doing nowadays. Don’t see her around the Banks anymore, really.” Topper adds.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what she’s been up to. Her and Rafe have been talking ain’t that right handsome?”

Rafe sighs, eyeing the boys. Before he could speak again, you spoke up.

“So to continue our conversation, Rafe, what business is Stacey in, and why you have any interest in it?” 

The two boys are wide-eyed. “Y/N really, there is something you're missing here.”

“Yeah, a real misunderstanding!”

“Oh, not you guys too! I can’t believe this. Why don’t you see what’s happened is wrong?”

“Baby doll, can I just say one more thing before you make up your mind in what has happened?”

“Fine... this better be good, Cameron.”

Rafe quickly turns to his boys, huddled up like they were having a meeting. Mumbles exchanged. Through the hushed tones, you managed to catch Topper asking Rafe if he was sure this was the right time and him replying he had no choice he couldn’t lose you.

Rafe turns around and looks you in the eyes, his hand hidden behind his back.

“Y/N, you mean the absolute world to me. You are my everything. You balance me in ways I never knew possible, and every day I wake up, I realize I love you more and more. I’ve grown so much with you in my life, and I wouldn’t beg for it to change. I want our lives to continue to keep growing together. I want our adventures to bring us to crazy places. I want to wake up every day with no doubt in my mind that you are truly and perfectly my girl. Forever. So please listen to me when I say, everything you are feeling right now is so incredibly false. I would never do anything to intentionally harm you. I love you so damn much Y/N, and that’s why I need to know...”

There is a pause as Rafe swiftly drops to his knee. Your mouth hangs open in complete shock. You are stunned at the sight in front of you as he brings his arm out front and opens up a small black velvet box. Inside, a dainty silver band holds a shining crystal clear diamond. Topper and Kelce beam behind the boy kneeling anxious for the next words that fall from his lips.

“Will you marry me?” Rafe’s eyes glass over once more, but not from hurt like earlier but with pure and resounding love for the girl in front of him.

Tears begin to slip from your eyes. You can’t believe you ever thought Rafe would take away all you have built together in the last three years. You felt the guilt in your stomach whirl. Unsure if you can accept the love and admiration coming from the boy you love knelt in front of you.

“Rafe... I am so... so incredibly sorry.” You sob out hands covering your face.

Rafe is up in seconds encasing you in his arms, laying a kiss on your hairline.

“Shh baby doll, it’s okay, I promise. I’m here. It’s okay, love. Don’t be sorry. I know it looked suspicious. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“I-I still don’t understand.”

Rafe chuckles a bit before explaining.

“My love, Stacey is an old friend from Outer Banks. She and Sarah are still pretty tight. And she happens to be in the business of custom jewelry... she makes some of the best work on the east coast.”

Realization dawns on you once more at how terribly you read the situation.

“I was in contact with her cause I wanted to make my girl a custom ring that was one of a kind, just for you and no one else. That’s part of the reason the boys came up. So they could deliver the ring to me.”

“I can’t believe I was so worked up, oh my god baby. I’m so sorry I never wanted to be the jealous girl, but I was just so, so heartbroken at the thought of losing you... I can’t lose you, babe.”

You stand silently inhaling the scent of the love of your life who you screamed at for trying to surprise you with the best gift you’ve ever received.

“So... does that mean she said yes or?” Topper and Kelce chuckle trying to defuse the awkward tension in the room.

You erupt into laughter, and so does Rafe. You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.

“Forever and always, baby... yes, I’ll marry you.” At that moment, you encompass him in a deep kiss, not caring you had company in the room. You were hungry for his love and embrace more than ever before.

You couldn’t wait to live the rest of your life with Rafe, and who knew what the future held for you both. One thing was for sure you would tackle it together face on because nothing mattered to you more than the bliss you felt for your one true love.

[babybottlepop96]

Home Again Chapter 1

Jean x Marco

Summary: Jeana and Marco have been friends since the tender ages of 5 and 7. They grow together and fall in love.... then Jean disappears.

Warnings: This story will contains mentions of past rape and abuse. The violence parts will probably be descriptive, but the rape will not be. There will be eventual smut further along into the story. 

~20 Years Ago~

"Jean, honey, this is mommy's new boss, Mr. Bott. He is the man who is going to help us, so I need you to be on your best behavior, okay?" The small five year old with ash blonde hair, dark brown undercut and honey golden eyes nodded his head as he stared at the tall dark haired man with dark chocolate eyes.

"Nice to meet you Master Jean." The man smiled down at the boy with a warm smile. "This is my son, Marco, he just turned seven a few months ago. Heard you enjoy dinosaurs and superheroes?" Jean nodded as he stared at the boy just two years older than himself with wide eyes, mapping out all the freckles along his tanned skin, milk chocolate eyes staring back into his own with a smile that could make the grumpiest of men relax. "Marco has a boatload of dinosaur and superhero toys, Marco, why don't you show Jean your room?" Marco smiled, grabbing Jean's hand and dragging him up the giant spiral staircase to the second floor.

Once inside the room, Jean's jaw dropped, the size of Marco's bedroom was bigger than his whole house combined. The ceiling was high with detailed trim along the edges, painted in a dark brown and a pale maroon shade of red. The bed was bigger than what any seven year old should have, a giant flat screen tv was mounted onto the wall across from the bed and games, movies and toys filled the rest of the room. "Do you want to play a video game? I have Spyro the dragon, Crash Bandicoot, Mario Kart?" The freckles kid asked, naming off games while setting up one of the many gaming consoles he owned.

"I… ummm.." Jean stood there nervously, rocking on his feet while twiddling his tiny thumbs. "I've never played a video game before." He looked up to see Marco smiling at him.

"That's okay! I'll teach you! We can start with Mario Kart, it's a multiplayer game, so I'll be able to teach you!" He smiled proudly as if he just won first place at the spelling bee.

"Oh, okay! Thank you!" Jean grabbed the controller Marco handed out to him with shaky hands. The two sat down on the squishy blue and purple bean bag chairs and started a game, Marco showing him how to pick his character, how to move and control the kart and how to throw the special abilities gained when hitting the boxes with the question marks.

"So, Jean, what's your favorite color?"

"Purple." Jean spoke as he tried to concentrate on what he was doing on the screen, still having a bit of trouble with the turns.

"Cool! Mines red!" Marco spoke as he gestures to the room around them. 

"Favorite food?" Jean asked, stealing a glance at the older kid next to him, he couldn't help but smile, Marco's smile was infectious.

"Spaghetti! Well, all kinds of pasta! Penne, ravioli, ricotta-"

"I thought ricotta was a cheese?" Jean questioned, he wasn't actually sure himself, he just knew that cheese was a luxury in his home, never having enough money most of the time for really fancy things like cheeses.

"Oh, yeah! It is!" Marco giggled, "I just really like ricotta cheese." Jean giggled too, this kid was alright. "You're my new best friend, Jean."

~8 Years Later~

"Will you just shut up, Yeager?" A thirteen year old Jean Kirstein, as calmly as he could, spoke with his fist balled up at his sides as he walked out of the middle school building.

"Come on, Kirstein, didn't your poor piss excuse for a mother teach you it isn't nice to tell people to shut up?" Eren, the school bully, asshole and dick, in Jean's opinion, insulted. That's when Jean's resolve faded into nothing and landed a swift punch to the tanned, unblemished skin, a crunch was heard throughout the whole parking lot. Eren fell to the ground but quickly regained his strength and landed a kick to Jean's guy. The wind was knocked from Jean's lungs, but his anger was dominant. He lunged for the bastard who insulted his mother, the only parent he ever knew who worked her ass off to make sure he survived, to give the douche-nozzle a good pounding, but warm, strong arms held him back before hos fist could collide with it's intended target.

"Jean." A warm voice whispered in his ear, Marco. He relaxed in the freckles arms but he was still livid. "Let's go." Then, he was dragged off to the black Chevy Impala.

"Is that your boyfriend Horse Face? Man, I knew you were fruity but seriously? You could do better!" Jean almost got out Marco's grip, but the taller, older teen had his grip firm and all but threw the teen into the back seat.

"Jean-" 

"No, don't start Marco! He taunted me about how I have to live my life, insulted my mother, then insulted you! He deserved to get his lights punched out!" Jean yelled, unshed tears forming in the corners of his Carmel eyes, threatening to spill any second. Marco just simply drew the younger into his arms and the driver drove towards Bott Manor. "He… he doesn't have to be so mean! I never did anything to him!" 

When they finally pulled into the Manor, Marco led Jean to his room, the same room they first became friends in eight years ago. The stuffed animals and small toys are now replaced with books, CDs and even more games and movies. Marco sat them down on the bed and neither spoke for a few minutes. "He was right, ya know." Marco finally spoke and Jean looked at him like he had four heads. "You could do better than me, if we were together."

"Marco Bott, you stop right there! No one could ever replace you! You are literally the best person alive! If I had the balls to kiss you I would!" Jean and Marco's eyes widened and Jean turned into a blushing, flustered mess. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I.. I don't know why I said tha-", but Jean couldn't finish, Marco's lips pressed firmly against his in a gentle yet passionate kiss that spoke thousands of words and so many feelings. 

"I love you Jean." Marco whispered as they pulled apart, foreheads still touching as both tried to regain their breath and slow their hearts. Jean cupped Marco's face in his hands and kissed him again.

"I love you too, Marco."

~2 Years Later~

Jean Kirstein, fifteen year old freshman at Trost High, walked through the park on his way home after work. He hates his job, hates working behind the counter at the local Taco Bell, hates that Eren works there too in the kitchen as a prep cook, hates dealing with annoying ass customers with snarky attitudes complaining that their crunch wrap supreme doesn't have enough sour cream. Well sorry, Karen, I don't make the fucking food nor do I determine how much sour cream goes on it. Today was a particularly bad day, Eren called off claiming he was sick when Jean really knew he was out with his "boyfriend" leaving him to prepare food and take orders. Then someone took a dump on the men's bathroom floor, didn't even try to aim for the fucking toilet! Just took a shot right there in the middle of the goddamn floor which he had to clean up himself while his manager bitched about him not doing his job at the counter. All Jean wanted to do was go home, talk to his boyfriend for a little before he eventually went to bed and got up early the next day for school.

It was a simple request that he wished for while the clock ticked by slowly. Jean was so into his own head, he never heard the footsteps coming up behind him until it was too late. A wet cloth covered his nose and mouth, his eyes widened for a second before the world faded to black.

-------------

"We have to find him!" Marco shouted at his father who was looking at him with a solemn expression. Marco paced back and forth in front of his father's desk, hands taking through his u kept hair. He has barely slept a wink since Jean vanished three days ago, his mind wondering about all the worst scenarios it could think of.

"We are trying, son, but we have no evidence of anything taking place. No struggle, no personal belongings, nothing to suggest anything has even happened."

"But Jean couldn't have just vanished into thin air! He wouldn't run away either! He loved his mom too much to just up and leave her and me…" Marco trailed off, thinking about his and Jean's time together over the last two years. Picnic and arcade dates, eating pizza and hot wings while they binge watched their favorite tv series at that moment, the soft and gentle kisses they shared between one another before they parted ways, always promising to text each other once they got home, letting the other one know they got there safe. That's the single most reason why Marco knew something was wrong. Neither of them forgot to send the 'im home safe and sound' text. Not once, in the ten years that they've known each other, did they miss sending that text. Even as children and Marco's father gave Mrs. Kirstein a cell phone as a gift to keep in contact, did they miss THAT text.

"Son, we are doing everything we can to find Jean. But we also need to think rationally, Jean might not ever be found." Marco froze at those words, Jean may be lost forever? He may never see those honey eyes, beautiful smile, perfect sketches and vibrant paintings painted by those slender pale hands and fingers? May never run his hands through those soft locks of ash and brown ever again? That's when Marco broke, he screamed and fell to the floor in a fetal position on the floor. His father looked at him with hurt in his own dark chocolate eyes, for him, his son and Jean's mother who was currently out looking for her only child as they speak. Don Bott rose from his leather chair and walked around the desk, kneeling in front of his son. He put his hand on his back and whispered a pained, "I'm sorry, Marco."

~10 Years Later (Present Day)~

Here he was, once again, at an underground auction. Mr. Bott hated these things, but he had no other choice, ever since Mrs. Kirstein passed away three years ago from a drunk driving accident, he hasn't been able to find someone who cleaned as well as she had. Every person he hired had an attitude or just didn't speak at all, always forgetting to dust the book shelves or take out the trash. So he relented and took up on Mr. Ackerman's suggestion to go to an auction. Getting there early to get a good seat, Mr. Bott, along with Mr. Ackerman, Mr. Braun and Mr. Hoover, the Dons of their respected parts of New York City, all sat down to converse while the auction for the…. Pleasure portion of the auction slowly came to a close. Mr. Bott cringed as the scum of New York bid money on these poor people just for the gratification of getting their dick in a hole.

"And now for our last and best prize of the night!" The auctioneer spoke as the Dons sighed in relief, none of them liked the idea of people being sold for pleasure as they themselves, tried for years to get it under control but never succeeding. "This one has been in the business for ten years, used and a bit rough looking, but this little beauty will be the best fuck you ever had. Clean and pliant, not a bad body either if I do say so myself. Number 54!" The announcer spoke as someone roughly shoved a young man out into the center of the room. The numbers flying from the crowd started pouring in left and right and it got the Dons wondering whom this "prize" was. "Three-thousand!" "Ten-thousand!" "Twenty Five-thousand!"

"Two hundred-thousand!" The crowd went quiet after hearing the deep booming voice coming from the front row.

"Two hundred-thousand! Going once! Going twice! Sold! To Do Bott!" The young man was then hauled out of the room to be prepped for leaving the facility.

--------------

"Dad! I'm home! Reiner, Bert, Mikasa, Eren and Armin are here too!" Marco called from the doorway as he and the others walked into the Manor. "Dad?!"

"In the living room son!" He heard his father call and the group walked towards the sound.

"What's up? We heard your voicemail and hauled ass here. What happened?" Marco asked as soon as he saw his father, eyes brimmed with tears and a small smile. The others in the room, specifically Dr. Yeager, looked at them, small sad but slightly happy smiles on their faces. "What's going on here?" The group looked at each other, confused and concern plastered on their faces. Once Mr. Bott moved to the side and gestured to the couch, it was then that the group realized what was happening. On the couch asleep, lay a thin pale man, dark circles under his eyes, bruises and scars and even some fresh wounds, now neatly stitched up thanks to Dr. Yeager, littering his almost naked form. Marco stared at the man laying on the pale green couch and tears flooded down his cheeks. "Jean?"

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 3: Wishes Do Come True

Synopsis: In which Sylvain comes to a horrible realization and Felix learns something new.

OR

Mercedes and Annette learn that they should really give disclaimers whenever they tell kids about wishing wells.

Pairing: SylVix

Chapter Index 1 / 2 / 3

It only takes a week for Sylvain to decide that his newfound knowledge about Felix’s sexuality is a horrible, horrible curse.

The type of curse that is initially disguised as a blessing because Sylvain is ecstatic that he might actually have a chance, but is really a curse because now he can’t stop noticing how many men seem to linger around Felix.

Did Felix always have this many men around him?

Sylvain never noticed it before, but now he cannot help but note that whenever he’s not sparring with Felix, there never seems to be a shortage of male soldiers clambering to challenge the sword master. In fact, if Sylvain is being honest, they all seem a little too eager to test their blade against the Fraldarius heir. Of course, none of them ever manage to win, but that doesn’t stop them from approaching Felix even on his grumpiest of days.

Sylvain doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

And if anyone notices that Sylvain is now sharpening his lance with a tad more force than absolutely necessary in the shadows of the training grounds while glaring holes at anyone who approaches his best friend… well, no one says anything because they’ve all seen him skewer his enemies with negligible effort.

“Lord Fraldarius! Sir!”

A new recruit that Sylvain can’t bother to remember the name of jogs up to Felix with a sword in hand and a traitorous part of his brain notes that he’s well built and boyishly handsome.

“Would you be willing to spar against me again? The pointers you gave me last time really helped to improve my form and I’m hoping that you could do the same again.” The soldier stands with his shoulders back and spine straight in the perfect picture of respect, but Sylvain has done this song and dance enough times that he can spot the underlying flirtatious tilt of his head and innocently deceptive tone.

If this were the first time that he had approached Felix, Sylvain would have given him a pass. Hell, even a second or third time would be okay. But this is the fifth time this week that his recruit has approached Felix, and Sylvain cannot figure out for the life of him why Felix is giving him the time of day when he could so clearly go practice sword forms on his own.

So, in typical Sylvain fashion, he saunters over to interrupt their conversation.

“How about you spar against me instead?” To his smug delight, Felix doesn’t shrug off the arm that he throws casually around his shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you. Plus, that gives Felix the opportunity to focus on critiquing you and giving you pointers.”

Sylvain picks up a training lance and gives it an expert twirl, muscle memory taking over as his feet slide into a ready stance that he could probably replicate in his sleep. There’s something fierce stirring in his gut and he can feel his body jittering restlessly; Sylvain has never been a fan of training (at least not as much as Felix), but his senses are on overdrive today and his mind is focused solely on winning.

“On my mark.” Felix puts away his own training sword and walks over towards a nearby pillar to watch the match. He crosses his arms across his chest and Sylvain can’t help but let his eyes distractedly trace the bulging lines of his biceps that drift down towards a tapered waist…

Damn it.

Now he’s turned on, frustrated and jealous.

A piercing whistle cuts through the air and Sylvain sends a silent half-hearted apology to the new recruit before lunging forward at full strength.

----

“You should have held back.”

“I did.”

His younger self snorts while cutting into his pheasant, “I’ve been your sparring partner for years. And I’ve fought by your side enough times to know what it looks like when you’re not holding back.”

A small smile creeps onto Felix’s face. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his past self’s conversation with Sylvain, but watching the red headed flirt stumble over himself with this new information has been more than a little amusing.

In his timeline, Felix is the one who is always flustered – although admittedly less so now, so it’s nice seeing the tables turn for once even if it’s not with his Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t give any indication that he is eavesdropping – his gaze is still fixed on his own meal and on little Sophie beside him, who has her tongue adorably stuck out while carefully eating wobbling spoonfuls of Onion Gratin Soup.

“I’m surprised that you’ve been helping train the newer soldiers.” Felix can tell from the offhanded way Sylvain tosses the comment out that he’s fishing for information. There’s a subtle edge in his voice that Felix can only hear from years of learning how to avoid arguments with his husband.

“Why? It makes sense. Byleth said she wants more swordsmen to add to my battalion and if they’re going to be fighting with me, then I need to make sure they’re up to my standard.”

“Fe, no offense but your standard is a bit high.”

“Your standard is just low.”

Felix is eternally grateful for Sophie when she masks his snort of laughter with a request for another bread roll.

“That’s not true! Admit it Fe, you always have extremely high standards for everything.” There’s a nervous energy to Sylvain’s prattle, like he’s stalling time to build up courage. “Not that it’s a bad thing! But it is true that you have that expectation for all aspects of your life.”

“Really,” his younger self says dryly, “like what?”

“Like your taste in partners.”

Honestly, Felix is impressed that Sylvain held out as long as he did before caving and broaching the subject with his younger self, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward or mortifying for Young Felix. He’s only listening in on this conversation and he can practically feel the embarrassment that is flooding his counterpart, but that will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster this conversation is headed towards.

Is it considered masochism if Felix is kind of enjoying this?

“We are not talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Fe! What did you think of that recruit? He was pretty cute.”

The violent coughing that follows is concerning enough that Sophie turns to look worriedly.

(“Papa, is he okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Sophie.” But not for long.)

“What?”

“The guy I was sparring! He was totally interested in you, by the way. Cute face, decent body, but kind of weak.”

“Goddess, kill me now - wait. You… since when were you interested in men?”

“Uh. Since forever? Fe, haven’t you ever heard Ingrid complain about me? I ‘flirt with anything that has a pulse’ – her words, not mine.”

As much as Felix is enjoying the explosive trash fire that is this conversation, he isn’t a fan of everyone in the dining hall knowing their business and judging by the steadily increasing volume of their conversation, there are at least a few others eavesdropping now as well, curious as to what has gotten the two nobles so riled up.

“What the actual fuck, Sylvain. Why have you never told me you were interested in men?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How was I supposed to know if you never told me?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

His younger self looks like he is on the verge of either combusting or stabbing Sylvain so Felix takes it upon himself to intervene. Sophie, who has since finished her dinner, tilts precariously to the side as her eyelids droop. With one hand, Felix ushers his daughter off the bench and towards the front of the dining hall while his other hand drips the tray laden with their dishes. When Sophie is finally far enough ahead that she will not hear him, Felix takes the opportunity to casually stroll by the two men.

His presence alone is enough to shut them both up and Felix can’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

As much as he would love to see the red head squirm some more, he does love the idiot and he cannot help but say something to him and ease his guilt. “To be completely honest, we already had a feeling.”

Once again, Felix finds himself on the receiving end of his infamous glare but he can’t find it within himself to care as long as he can end this conversation quickly. Consider it a mercy to his younger self, or to their privacy in general.

“Oh, and just so you’re aware,” Felix calls over his shoulder as he walks away, his calm voice at odds with the small shit eating smirk on his face, “Sylvain knows about us now too.”

Felix doesn’t stick around long enough to see the consequences of his words, instead quickly catching up to his daughter and scooping her up before depositing their dishes and heading back to his room.

----

Perhaps it is the consequence of eating cheese for dinner that catalyzes the stream of ridiculous night terrors combined with the fact that the Gautier cheese used in the soup was reminiscent of home, but  when Sophie wakes up for the third time that night in tears and crying for her Daddy, Felix swears that he is never letting his daughter eat Onion Gratin soup before bed ever again.

A lone candle sends flames dancing in their assigned room, casting shadows across the walls that flicker hypnotizingly and threaten to drag Felix back down into the dredges of sleep if not for his crying daughter in his arms.

As much as it breaks his heart to see Sophie in tears, there is very little Felix can actually do to make her feel better. He isn’t the one she misses, and he doesn’t have the magical capabilities to perform the time travel spell by himself – not that he would even consider risking the safety of his daughter in an experimental spell to begin with (speaking of which, he’s going to have a chat with Linhardt about how Sophie managed to get herself sent to the past when he gets back).

It certainly doesn’t help the situation that he is due to leave on a two day mission in the morning, which is why he shows up exhausted at Annette and Mercedes’ doors at sunrise dropping off a still slumbering Sophie in their care for the next couple of days.

Sophie may not be either his nor Sylvain’s biological daughter, but she certainly inherited some traits from her fathers; and the one thing that her and Sylvain have in common is that they both like to indulge in sweets whenever they are feeling particularly sad.

And so, with a request to bake cookies with Sophie and a hasty reminder to not let her eat too many sweets lest she get a stomachache, Felix hurries off to join his battalion that is set to depart shortly after breakfast.

Which is exactly how Annette finds herself sitting on a stool watching Mercedes and Sophie cut out cute little shapes from their rolled-out cookie dough.

“Sorry Mercie, I promise I’ll help out next time when there’s less… risk of fire involved.”

Mercifully, the healer simply laughs and waves off the apology; after all, it is no secret that Annette has an uncanny ability to make things explode in the kitchen without meaning to.

“Oh that’s quite alright, Annie. After all, I have a wonderful little helper already – isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie doesn’t reply but continues to meticulously push the Pegasus shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“Sophie…?”

Peering over the counter, Annette tilts her head so that she can see past the curtain of crimson that reveals teary honey eyes and a bottom lip wobbling dangerously with barely held back sniffles.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong Sophie? Do you want a different shape?” Mercedes coos and gently turns her so that both her and Annette can fully see her expression.

One lone tear manages to drip past long brown lashes before the flood gates open.

“I…I m-miss…” Sophie chokes out before abruptly stopping, her face scrunching up in distress.

Sweeping her dress under her knees, Annette crouches down to Sophie’s eye level and smooths her hair back in a comforting gesture. “Who do you miss, sweetie?”

Once more, a flash of uncertainty and reluctance crosses her expression before Sophie finally breaks down and whispers, “I miss Daddy.”

There must be something else bothering the little Fraldarius, Mercedes and Annette conclude after an hour of fruitlessly trying to comfort Sophie that Felix will be back before you know it, because nothing they say seems to elicit any reaction other than Sophia stubbornly insisting that she misses her Daddy. Any attempts to cajole further elaboration merely ends in Sophia clamming up with more tears, looking guilty as if she has broken an unknown rule.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to tell us more about what’s bothering you?” Mercedes frowns. “Is there something more than you missing Felix?”

Flour streaked hands grab the hem of her dress to wipe away the errant tear tracks on her cheeks. Shaking her head once more, Sophia invokes her Fraldarius stubbornness and repeats her mantra. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Annette pauses for a moment as an idea strikes her. There really isn’t anything to lose considering nothing else they have done so far has helped – not even the freshly baked cookies. “Hey, Sophie? Have you ever heard of a wishing well?”

“Wishing…well?” Little eyebrows scrunch up in curiosity.

Annette beams. “Yeah! It’s where you go when you have something you are wishing for that you really, really want to come true. I like to go there whenever I am feeling sad so that I can make a wish. How about we take you there so you can make a wish for your Daddy to come home faster?”

“I can wish to see Daddy?”

The hope stirring in her eyes makes Annette’s chest clench guiltily, but she’s desperate to cheer up this little girl who has taken up resident in her heart with her radiant smiles and cheer.

“Yep! They say that if you wish really, really hard that the Goddess will hear you and grant whatever you ask for.”

“Really?” Sophie turns to Mercedes with wide eyes in search of confirmation.

Smiling back, Mercedes nods. “Yes, that’s true. But if you want your wish to reach the Goddess, you must bring an offering that is connected to your wish. Do you know anything that your Daddy likes? Maybe something we can get from the pantry?”

“Cookies.”

There’s a beat of silence as Annette and Mercedes stare at each other.

Felix doesn’t like cookies.

“Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat the cookies?” Annette asks; neither of them are willing to call out a child, much less a distraught one. “Maybe there’s something else we can find?”

Even though they’ve only known Sophia Fraldarius for a little while, it doesn’t take a genius to know by the set of her shoulders and pout that her mind is made up, leaving the older girls no choice but to follow along, bundling up mini Pegasus cookies in a Mercedes’ white handkerchief and setting off for the well just outside the Cathedral’s main hall.

Thankfully, it is a relatively warm day and the wind does little to bother them, despite their high altitude. When the well comes into view, Sophie’s excitement grows with each step and by the time they reach the stone structure, the knot holding the handkerchief together threatens to spill cookies across the floor, loosened by her excited skipping.

“Oookay,” Annette claps her hands together and grins. “Before we make our wish, we need to make sure we properly present our offering.”

Placing the wrapped goods on the ledge of the well, all three girls take a step back and clasp their hands with Mercedes leading their prayer.

“Dear Goddess, we are grateful for your kindness and compassion. We offer these items in hopes that you will hear our wish and grant us what we seek. May you always watch over us and protect those we hold dear.”

Taking a step forward, Mercedes makes the first wish. “I wish for all our friends and comrades to come home safe from their battles.”

From Sophie’s other side, Annette goes next. “I wish to see improvements in my faith magic so that I can protect my friends.”

When it comes to her turn, Sophie steps forward hesitantly with her hands clutched to her chest. “I…I wish that I could see Daddy.”

Stepping back, Sophia hastens to mimic the other two and claps her hands twice to finish the ritual.

Even when they turn to head back towards the dining hall for dinner, Sophia carries her wish in her heart and repeats the prayer through the rest of the day and into bed. By the time she finally manages to fall asleep, her heart is swollen with enough hope that it chases away the night terrors and leaves her with dreams of riding through fields with the person she misses the most.

----

On the next day, Sophie rises with the sun.

Though still bleary eyed and exhausted, excitement runs like electric through her body and propels her from bed in a rush to get dressed in a forest green dress that matches a shirt she has seen in her fathers’ wardrobe.

If her wish really does come true, then Sophie wants to look her best so that her Daddy knows she has been taking care of herself and not out romping in the bush, wrecking havoc for her caretakers like she does so often when she visits the capital.

Breakfast crawls by ever so slowly, time moving with the same speed that her gloopy porridge drips from her spoon, but eventually the dining hall clears out and Sophie is able to drag Mercedes and Annette to the entrance of the main hall where she plants herself on the stone wall atop the staircase leading down to the marketplace.

“To make sure I don’t miss Daddy!” She had declared proudly to her caretakers when asked why she had picked this spot to settle down at.

Burnt sienna eyes focus heavily on the portcullis that protects the entrance to Garreg Mach. Even as the sky climbs higher in the sky and the noon bell tolls, Sophie does not leave her post, instead opting to eat her lunch consisting of sandwiches outside on her perch.

But as the hours of the day begin to count down and the sun sinks lower and lower towards the horizon, Sophie cannot stop the gnawing darkness of doubt that coils in her gut and grows stronger with the fading daylight.

“Still waiting?” Sylvain asks as he joins the small group of friends that have gathered anxiously anticipating the tears that will inevitably come when Sophie realizes that sometimes wishes don’t come true.

“It… probably wasn’t the best idea to give her false hope.” Ingrid frowns. “How are we going to console her when Felix doesn’t come back? He’s not due to arrive for another day.”

Letting out a moan, Annette drags a hand down her face. “I know! I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now she’s going to be even more upset.”

“Why don’t you just tell her that Felix isn’t coming back tonight then?”

“Because Linhardt,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “We’re not monsters who go around killing children’s hopes and dreams.”

“All I’m saying is that the upfront disappointment might be the better alternative.”

“I’m sure we can just talk to her and explain that Felix will be back the day after tomorrow.” Mercedes reasons.

When the dinner bell tolls, it echoes throughout the courtyard and through the now-empty stalls. The sky glows with reds, pinks, and oranges that are slowly fading into the dark blue of the night sky, casting their last brilliant rays on the earth.

The sniffling that ensues shortly after the bell chime fades is expected, but no less painful.

“Is… is Daddy not coming?” It’s almost unfair how lethal Sophie’s teary face is as it cuts into their hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Dorothea says, wrapping up the little Fraldarius in a tight hug. “I’m sure Felix is doing his best to come back soon. He’ll be here for sure in another day or so.”

Leonie flashes her best reassuring smile. “Yeah! I’m sure that Felix will be on his way home soon.”

“But I miss Daddy.”

More tears are coming now and the panic among the adults is steadily increasing.

Ashe and Annette do their best to offer small placating reasons as to why Felix hasn’t come back, however despite their best efforts, Sophie’s distress grows and grows until she is sobbing just as hard as when they first found her in the middle of the sealed forest.

“I want Daddy!”

“Hey, hey.” Dorothea coos. “It’s okay, no need for tears! Why don’t we get you inside first, hm? Sylvain can give you a piggy back ride, would that make you feel better?”

Ever on the same page as her girlfriend, Ingrid quickly drives her elbow into Sylvain’s ribs and pushes him forward.

“Ouch! Er. Yeah! Of course. How about it, Sophie? Want a ride back to the dining hall?” Sylvain beams and offers up his hands, but quickly retracts them when the wails increase in volume.

“Sylvain! What did you do?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ingrid huffs. “Well, clearly you did. Listen to her! She’s crying even louder-“

“Rider at the gate!” The shout from the sentry breaks cuts through their argument and for one blessed moment, everything falls silent except for the sound of sniffling and hoofbeats on stone that grows ever louder as it approaches.

“Rider? Not a messenger?” Caspar frowns. It’s an odd announcement – there are very few people who are brave enough to travel solo during war – and the sentries know and recognize the Resistance army’s trusted messengers.

Which means that whoever is approaching is an ally, or someone they recognize… which is even more odd because everyone they know is either already accounted for inside the walls of Garreg Mach or are out on missions and not due back for a few days.

But when the portcullis finally raises and the oaken doors part, they too recognize the person astride the horse, now galloping through the marketplace with hair the colour of crimson flame and very familiar honey eyes trained only on the weeping child seated on the stone wall.

They all continue to gape silently in various states of shock even as the rider slows to a stop at the foot of the stairs.

“What the-“

It’s undeniable now.

If the Resistance Army thought it was weird that they now had two Felix’s, they were definitely not prepared for the arrival of an older looking Sylvain Jose Gautier decked out in noble regalia with another Lance of Ruin strapped to his back.

The lazy grin he flashes them is unmistakably Sylvain, but when his eyes finally return back to Sophie, his expression morphs into something so soft that it leaves the current Sylvain reeling.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Sophie wastes no time in scrambling to her feet and dashing down the stone banister to throw herself into the arms of the older looking Sylvain.

“Daddy!”

----------------------------

Author’s Note: This was so weird to write. Originally I wanted to do it in Sylvain's POV, but then it switched to Felix's POV, then I realized that I defaulted to active voice for Sylvain's part and told myself I would go back and change it to passive voice, but then the chapter just kept morphing and morphing and dear lord I don't know.

Imma just leave it in active voice for now. Because that's what feels right LOL. Maybe I'll have to scrap my whole passive voice practice; this chapter was hard enough to write as it is. English is hard. (Says the person with a major in English Literature).

Tag List: @pato-social

[nights-legacy]

Major Huff AKA Jealousy - Raph

Raph- no specific version

 Requested by @dreams-delusional

+Everyone is used to Raphael being the grumpiest and have learned to live around it. But there is one person that he is barely ever grumpy with. The moment he sees them, his mood turns around. That is until one day where he super irritable and they can’t even get him to lighten up. That is until they finally hear why he is so moody. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

*Bang!* 

*Clang!*

*Grunt.*

The sounds that came from the dojo was getting louder and louder. Raph and Leo were in there for some reason that none of us knew. I had come to the lair to spend time with Raph and the guys but when I got there he was in there. I asked Donnie what was wrong but he had no clue, saying that he came back just before I arrived all upset.

“See that, dudettes?” Mikey yelled. “That’s a new record for me.” I heard April laugh and looked over seeing Mikey doing a victory dance. I looked at April on the couch and saw her roll her eyes. 

“Congrats Mike.” I called over. He turned and looked at me with a big smile. “Now I dare you to try and beat my high score.” I smirked. His face dropped and he quickly turned and pulled up the rank list on the game. 

“Oh you’re on, Y/N!”  He exclaimed and started another game. 

“You gonna regret that.” I heard Donnie say. I turned back and looked at him

“Not really. I really don’t care about the high score, it will just keep him busy for a while. Out of hair.” He made a face of agreement before turning back to the computer. 

“You are right.” He said. I nodded and laid my arms on the table in front of me. I was bored out of my mind and worried on why Raph was so upset. It was only a little bit before I heard the door to the dojo open. I swung around to see Leo and Raph come out.

“Hey guys!” I called. They looked at me.

“Hi Y/N.” Leo greeted. They walked over and Raph came over to me. He leant down and kissed my head.

“Hey babe.” He said quietly before walking away, muttering he was going to take a shower. I stared after him in confusion. I could see he was tense in the shoulders. 

“Hey Leo?” I slowly turned, only looking at him when Raph was out of sight. “What’s wrong with Raph?”

“I’m not sure. He came in a tense state and asked if we could spare. I agreed and he seemed like he was really upset.” He told me in between drinks of water. 

“Was he mad at you for something? Did he get in trouble?” He shook his head.

“No, we haven’t had any confrontations today and he hasn’t done anything as of late to get in trouble with me or father.” He stopped to think for a second. “He did seem to upset with someone or about something but he wouldn’t say anything.”

“Okay.” I looked in the direction of Raph’s room. “I’ll go see if I can find out what’s wrong.” I got up with out another word and went to his room. He was not in there so I sat on the bed. I waited a while he finished his shower. I had closed my eyes for a bit when heard him come in. I opened my yes and saw him standing, in a towel, there looking at me.

“Hi.” He said. 

“Hey.” I replied and looked away as he got dressed. With out a word he came over picked me up by the waist, turned and sat down before setting me on his lap. I giggled, silently. He buried his head in my shoulder. “Everything alright?” “Fine.” He grumbled into my skin. I made a face and moved slightly.

“Are you sure?” I asked with a knowing tone. “Because from what I was told, you came in a major huff before I got here. And that your sparing with Leo was caused by something other than Leo or anything in the norm. I asked Leo and he’s just as confused as me.”

“Dammit Fearless.” I heard him groan. I waited as he started muttering to himself. I listened to see if I could catch anything but never heard a coherent word to my ears. I sighed and pulled away from him. “Y/N?” He looked at me confused. I turned around and straddled him.

“You know you can tell me anything.” I set my arms across is shoulders. He nodded and looked away.

“I am jemlos...” He muttered.

“What was that?” I asked. He said it again but I still didn’t get what it was. “Come on Raph. I know you have no problem making your mind know so what’s stopping you know.”

“I saw you with that guy okay!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. I was taken back.

“What guy?” I asked. He made a mix of a sigh and a groan.

“That guy you were with before you came here. Blonde, skinny, basketball in his hand, brand name clothes…I saw you chatting up a storm with him. It made me jealous.” He finally admitted. My eyes widen. He wouldn’t look at me.

“Wait, what? Really?” I said laughing. I felt his glare on me. “Thinking about that just grosses me out. He’s not my type. Not in the slightest.’’ I tried to get him to look at me when I noticed a stray tear and watery eyes. “Raph.”

“What?” He gruffed. I sighed before trailing my hand down his face, wiping the tear.

“I only want you Raph. That guy is just one of the stuck up preps from school that always tries to hit on me and I always turn him down flat. He’s too stupid to take a hint. And not to be mean to Mikey, cause he is smart in his own way, but this guy makes Mikey look like a genius.” Raph looked up at me and chuckled. I held his face. “I want no one but you my ninja hunk.”

“You better.” He wrapped his arms around me and laid down. I giggled and got comfortable. “If any guy even tries to take you away from me they will have a date with my sais.”

“Not even a possibility but I’m glad I know you are going to fight for me.” He smiled real big. I sat up, sitting on his plastron. He set his hands on my hips. “You don’t have to be jealous of anyone. I won’t leave you for anyone.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He smirked and pulled me down into a fiery kiss. 

[angelicyoongie]

desolate (2)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x  reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 2.9k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou​ , @ladymidnightt​ Part one Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

A sharp tone rips you out of your dreams, your alarm screeching at the top of its lungs to make you get up. You groan, fumbling around before you find your phone to turn it off. You look at your screen through bleary eyes, annoyed that you forgot to turn off your alarm considering it’s a Saturday and you absolutely do not have to wake up at 6.30 am today.

You huff, throwing your phone further down your bed and turning over to go back to sleep. The noise startled you enough that you can still feel your heart racing, and even though you doubt you’ll be able to slip back into the dream you had, you can still take a few minutes more to just rest.

You stare at the sunlight that has started peeking through the gaps in your curtains, everything still a little hazy from the vivid dream you had. But the more you look out in your room, the more the golden eyes and black soft fur you thought was only a dream starts melting away and the day before comes rushing back.

You actually adopted a cat! Your stomach does a funny flip, excitement rushing through your veins as you quickly sit up in bed. The floor is cold as you plant your feet on the ground, and you hurry over to your closet with a grimace.

In a few weeks it’ll become too cold to have the heater off, and you already dread how high your electricity bills are going to become in the following months. But it’s either that or freezing to death, and frankly with your busy schedule, you don’t have time for that. You throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants, happy that the only thing on your agenda today is just lazing around the apartment.

You hurry to your bedroom door after tugging on some thick socks to ward off the cold, only pausing for a short second to take a deep breath before opening it. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but finding your kitty lying directly outside of your door definitely wasn’t it.

You freeze, foot caught mid-air as you stare down at the black ball of fur curled up on the floor. You carefully set your foot down again, clutching the doorframe as you slowly slide down to a crouch. He's so fluffy and cute that your legs wobble, and you have to put a hand down on the floor to keep from toppling over your cat.

You wince as the cold seeps into your fingertips, and you don’t like the thought of your kitty sleeping on it. What if he gets sick? Can cats get sick? You’re not sure, but you don’t want to find out either.

“Kitty?” You murmur, watching as one ear twitches in your direction. You reach out slowly, hand hovering over the furry body hesitantly. You want to touch him, but the band-aids along your forearm serves as a reminder of how much he didn’t like that last night.

“Kitty?” You try again, and this time, golden eyes slide open at your voice. You let out a small coo as it blinks slowly, obviously still sleepy. You figure it might be safe to touch it now that it’s awake, but the moment you fingers inch closer it hisses, golden eyes suddenly wide and alarmed before it quickly scampers under the couch again.

You sigh, pushing yourself up to get some breakfast. You desperately want to cuddle and coddle your new cat, but it’s obvious that it needs space and time, and you need to respect that. Owning pets isn’t always sunshine and butterflies and you figure it probably had a rough life on the streets before you picked it up. It was alone in a shelter, after all.

You change out the water in the bowl you put out for your cat the night before, a frown settling on your face as you realize the dry food you got from Yeonjun hasn’t been touched. You sprinkle some more kibble on just in case, hoping that the fresh bits might smell good and entice your cat to eat something.

It’s still early and you’re feeling a little too lazy to make anything, so you decide that today’s breakfast will be yesterday's leftovers. You bring your meal to the couch, placing the plate with rice and chicken on the coffee table in front of it. You hear a low grumble from underneath the couch as you take a step closer, and you decide that maybe delaying getting your feet mauled for another minute is okay as you run back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

You don’t like the thought of being scared of your own cat, but you figure he’s probably way more scared than you are, and so you just need to suck it up for a while. You gasp as you round the corner, shocked to find your cat eating away at a chicken breast on your plate.

“Kitty!” You rush forward, scared that he’s eating something he isn’t supposed to and hoping to stop him, but your cat is back under the couch before you even reach the table. There’s an obvious gap on your plate from the missing chicken your cat brought with it under the couch, but from the sounds of it, it seems like your cat was starving.

You can hear the hurried bites from where you’re standing, and your heart aches a little at the thought of it being so hungry. Despite your better judgement, you quickly grab another breast from your plate before you can second-guess yourself. Placing it close to the edge of the couch on the floor, you snatch your fingers back just as a black paw comes out and swipes the food in.

You tentatively sit down on the couch, perching on the edge so that your legs are as far away as they can be. Your cat seems to be too busy eating to notice your presence, or maybe it just doesn’t care as long as you bring it food, but you’re nearly all the way done with your meal before you hear a soft hiss from underneath you again.

“I’m done soon kitty,” You mutter, shoving the rest of the food into your mouth before you hurry off into the kitchen with your plate. You know you still have a long way to go before your cat starts to like you, but it still feels like a small victory.  

.

“He hates me,” You groan as you slump down in your chair, Jihyo’s bright eyes staring at your over her computer screen.

“Who? Your cat?” She tilts her head, a small frown on her face as she takes in your tired appearance. You didn’t sleep well all weekend.

You felt terrible for making your cat scared, and so you tried to steer clear of the couch as much as possible. But you also realized you needed to make your presence known if he was ever going to get used to you - so you spent the weekend feeling guilty for both staying away and staying close.

“Yeah,” You mutter as you blow a stubborn piece of hair away from your face.

“It probably just needs some time to adjust ..” She trails off, but you can see the words on the tip of her tongue forming already.

“Don’t–” You start, but Jihyo interrupts you.

“This is why you should’ve gotten a hybrid! It would never be so mean to you,” She pouts. You take a deep breath, trying to push down the annoyance that wants to bubble up and explode.

You love Jihyo and she’s one of your closest friends, but she doesn’t really share the same reality as you. She has money, and you don’t. And while it sounds trivial, it’s enough to create a rift in situations like these where she just doesn’t get it. You don’t have money for a hybrid. Period.

“Jihyo. Let it rest,” You grumble, tone serious and eyes narrowed as you stare her down. She opens her mouth, but seems to think twice and clamps it shut instead.

“Fine,” She huffs. She lets you work in peace until lunch, but you can tell she’s practically bursting with the need to say something as she tugs you inside the lunchroom. It’s empty, you two usually taking your break a little earlier than everybody else just to get some privacy when you eat and talk.

You’ve barely taken a bite of your sandwich when Jihyo sighs dramatically, eyes wide as she throws her arms out across the table.

“I know I’ve only had Sana for three days, but if something happens to her I’m going to kill everybody and then myself,” You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile at how fond Jihyo seems to be already.

“Stop being so dramatic,” You snort. A man quietly makes his way inside the break room; you think you vaguely recognize him as being one of the IT guys in your department.

His eyes grow wide as your eyes meet, and he hurries off to the little kitchen in the corner of the room with his head hung low when you give him a small nod as a greeting. Jihyo seems obvious, too busy dreamily staring out of the window behind you as she continues.

“Sana is so cute. She’s so happy and cuddly,” She gushes, quickly bringing out her phone to show you some of the pictures she took over the weekend. You two have been texting of course, but you knew she wanted to talk about it in more detail over lunch.

“She even picked out her own collar! Look!” You see the IT guy slip out the kitchen as you take Jihyo’s phone, paying him no mind as you smile at the picture of her Pomeranian hybrid.

“Aww, how adorable,” You can’t help but grin, happy that your friend found someone she enjoys spending her time with.

“Y/N!” Jihyo suddenly exclaims, “Maybe I can bring Sana over on Friday? She’s been dying to see you again,” You mull it over for a second.

You do really want to see Sana and Jihyo, and since your cat pretty much lives under the couch you’re sure an hour or two will be fine. Sana seems to sweet and quiet that you don’t think it’ll be much of a problem even if she is a dog hybrid.

“Sure!” You agree, happy to spend some more time with your friend.  

.

The moment you step inside your apartment after work, you’re sure you see a black tail hurry around the corner.

“I’m home!” You call out, but the silence that greets you feels heavy and uninviting, and you suddenly feel more alone than what you did before when you were actually by yourself. You quickly shed your shoes and your coat, briefly slipping into your bedroom to pull on some more comfortable clothes.

You’re hungry; the lunch you brought today definitely wasn’t enough to keep you sated until work was over. You quickly fry up some vegetables and meat, mindful to keep away from any seasoning. Your cat has made it clear it’s not eating the cat food Yeonjun gave you, and so you’ve been letting it eat some of your own food until you can get him something else.

Once you’re sure the meat has cooled down enough, you slip some on to a plate, bringing it into the living room. You’re about to place it down under the couch when you hesitate. If you keep doing this you’re sure it’s only going to get harder to get to know your cat, and that’s not what you want to happen.

So you carefully place it a little further away, so that your cat needs to take a few steps out to eat it. You hurry out to the kitchen to grab your own plate, and when you return, you find your cat halfway out from under the couch, golden eyes trained on you as he eats.

“I’ll stay over here kitty. Take your time,” You make sure to sit on the other side of the couch, giving you cat some space while still being close. You turn on the TV, getting more and more absorbed in the show as your dinner grows colder.

You eat absentmindedly, the plot too interesting to tear your eyes away from. So it comes as a surprise when you move your hand to pick up your fork, but your fingers come into contact with soft fluffy fur instead.

You eyes snap down in panic as you find your cat looking up at you with wide eyes, a piece of meat caught between its teeth. Your fingers twitch involuntarily at the feel of fur against them, and the motion seems to remind your cat suddenly as to why it doesn’t like you.

Its ears flatten against its skull, and you can practically see the murder written in his eyes before he jumps down and crawls under the couch again. You don’t realize you were even holding your breath until your lungs start burning, and you drop your outstretched hand into your lap as you gulp down air.

You stay in the living room for a little while more, ignoring the disgruntled noises coming from the floor as you finish your show.

“Night kitty,” You say as you turn off the lights, hurrying down the hallway to your room and closing the door behind you. You can still feel the brush of fur against your fingers even after you’ve gone to bed, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Even if touching him was an accident, he has still started to feel comfortable enough around you to take the risk to steal your food, and that has to count for something.

.

Nothing really changes between you and your black menace until Thursday evening. You have been tiptoeing around your apartment all week, apparently the cat’s mood has only soured after you accidentally touched it, and you have no idea how to make it better.

It’s grown colder outside as well, and you can only hope that your cat at least sleeps on top of the couch when you’re not there. You’ve taken to laying out some blankets on the floor, just in case. Work today was particularly exhausting, and curling up on the couch with a blanket and some mindless television watching sounds like dream come true. So that’s exactly what you do as soon as you get home and finish dinner.

You’re skipping through channels until you find something mildly interesting - a documentary on hybrids. The narrators voice is soothing, and it doesn’t take long before you start drifting off, feeling comfortable and full after your dinner. You vaguely listen as the soft-spoken voice tells you about hybrids habits, almost lulled completely to sleep before you feel the slight dip in the cushion near your feet.

You’re so far gone that you barely pay it any notice, not even when you feel the presence getting closer and closer. You’re on your back, head tilted to the side as you watch the TV through half-lidded eyes as something steps on your stomach.

The blanket you have over you is so thick you can barely feel it, but you catch a dark mass out of the corner of your eye. He thinks I’m asleep, you realize, just as you suddenly feel a weight drop down on your body.

You don’t move, afraid that you’ll scare him now that he finally seems to have gained some confidence and trust in you. Your neck is starting to cramp from the awkward position, but you refuse to move, opting to just watch him get comfortable out of the corner of your eye.

You count to two hundred in your head after the moving stops, and turn your head the slightest bit just to make some of the pain go away. Golden eyes blink open immediately, staring you down as you look back at your cat.

“Comfy?” You ask, slowly reaching your hand to see if he'll let you pet him. You feel claws digging into the fabric despite the thickness when he notices your hand, a hiss rumbling in his chest until you drop it back down.

“No touching. Got it,” You mumble, somehow feeling a little chastised. You almost feel shy having him so close, especially when your cat won’t stop looking at your face, almost as if he’s scrutinizing it. But that’s ridiculous, you decide, he’s just a cat.

Any trace of sleep is long gone by now, but you cat however, seems to be growing tired of his staring game, eyes slowly slipping closed with each breath you take. You can still see that he’s a little tense, but just the fact that he’s here, on top of you, warms your heart.

You watch him rest until you feel your own eyelids become heavy again. You know your back will kill you tomorrow if you sleep here, but you don’t want to wake up your kitty, not when you can provide him with some warmth. So, you fall asleep with a lighter heart than you have had in days, hopeful that maybe this will turn out better than you first thought.

Oh, if only you knew what you really had gotten yourself into.  

- - - - Hello! Hope you enjoyed the second chapter of desolate! Next chapter will be Jihyo and Sana coming over to visit you and your kitty, which said black fluffball might not be so happy about .. Not when he’s just starting to warm up to you.

OT7 version is coming soon as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that :) Thank you all for the lovely feedback on the first chapter, it made me really excited to continue working on this! My inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon!

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Organization Members as Babies/Toddlers

Suggested by: Anon.  Let me know if any of the links don’t work!!! I didn’t do actual babies because babies don’t really have personalities and they don’t really... do much? So it’s more on the line of toddlers instead of babies.

Thanks to the headcanon queen, @4ddictwithapencil for help with this one!

Let’s just say that most of this is happening at Grandpa Xehanort’s house.

Xemnas

Favorite Toy: a Fluffy Puppy Rocking Chair where he can sit and judge people with his arms crossed and hatred in his eyes.

The grumpiest of babies.  Nothing you do ever makes him happy.  Will glare at you and judge you for everything you do, practically being judgmental at your parenting.  Does not cry or scream, which would be a lot better because it would make him seem like a normal baby, but he does bite often and unashamedly.  Also pulls hair, but not to be spiteful.  He’s just fascinated by hair for some reason.

Sticks to a fairly strict schedule.  Goes to bed at certain times, eats at certain times, naps at a particular time, etc.  If he gets off of his schedule, he goes nuts and gets really upset.  A decently calm baby when he’s on schedule, but when he’s off schedule? He’s a nightmare.

Xigbar

Favorite Toy: Nerf Guns

The naughtiest of tiny babies, absolutely 100% the worst baby ever.  Gets into literally anything and everything because he likes to touch things just for the sake of touching them.  Most likely to stick a fork in an electrical socket.  Also likely to pee on you when you try to change his diaper.

Definitely a kid that will test your limits and really try your patience.  He likes to see how much he can get away with without getting into really big trouble, so if you’ll tell him not to touch something, he’ll immediately touch it when you look away.  Then during a scolding, he’ll pretend like he never did anything. Like this is literally Xigbar.

One positive about Xigbar is that he’s a great sleeper.  Goes to sleep without a fuss and barely ever wakes up in the middle of the night.  Also?? surprisingly cuddly when he’s tired?  He doesn’t like being picked up or coddled too much, but when you see him yawn? He’ll definitely want to be held as he falls asleep.

Xaldin

Favorite Toy: The Jungle Gym Playground Set where he and Lexaeus help to protect baby Zexion

A baby with a surprisingly big appetite.  He’s not picky when it comes to food and will literally try anything you put in front of his face.

Has a fascination with putting his face out of the window on long car rides to feel the breeze.  Also has a tendency to fall asleep in the car when driving around for a while.  For some reason it just makes him sleepy.

Xaldin is pretty content with being by himself.  Likes to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else play than actually participate.

Vexen

Favorite Toy: Science Experiment Lab

Super curious!!!  Like to pretend to be a scientists and make pretend experiments.  Never misses an episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy.

Never goes outside unless it’s winter and freezing.  LOVES the snow more than anything else in the world.  He’s one of those kiddos that you have to drag Vexen inside the house, even with the bribe of hot chocolate with little mini marshmallows.  He just loves the snow, having snowball fights, and making snowmen!

Lexaeus

Favorite Toy: Tonka Dig n Rig Playset

That kid who likes to dig in the sandbox because he claims he’s going to dig to China.  Just likes being in the dirt for some reason.  He can just lay outside in the grass for hours without moving.

The quietest of all the babies.  Seriously silent because he generally prefers to point at things instead of speaking.  Never cries or talks, either, and his parents were seriously getting worried, so they actually took him to a doctor to see if something was wrong with his hearing or vocal chords, but no.  He’s fine.  When prompted, he was literally able to speak in fully formed sentences and shocked the hell out of everyone in the room.  He just likes to stay silent more than anything else.

Zexion

Favorite Toy: Create Your Own Books Activity

Another baby who is seriously curious about the world.  Likes to get into literally everything if only because he wants to know what it is, what it does, and how he can use it or play with it.

SO CUTE AS A BABY.  Has chubby cheeks that you just want to pinch.  A seriously lovable baby who’s wonderful and amazing.

He’s that baby that always accidentally gets into trouble, and Lexaeus and Xaldin know it.  They’ve formed a pact between the two of them to follow Zexion around and keep him safe from other babies/bullies (aka Xigbar.)

Can’t go to sleep unless someone reads him a story.

Saix

Favorite Toy: Fisher Price Desk and Lamp to store his crayons and important documents

Pretty similar to Xemnas, Saix has a god damn schedule and you need to stick to it or he will go absolutely insane.  You’ll be left with a very unhappy baby and he’ll make sure you know how unhappy he is, loudly and often.  He needs order to function, more so than most babies.

Bossy as shit and a little know it all.  He will definitely correct adults when they’re wrong about something and has absolutely judged his parents on their parenting skills and tried to tell them what to do.

Axel

Favorite Toy: Sit and Spin - definitely makes himself dizzy as hell on purpose.

You can’t have candles in the house with this sweet baby.  He’s absolutely fascinated with fire and will very much stick his hands on or near the fire on the stove if given the opportunity.

He’s also very loud! Not in like the uncontrollable screaming way, but he just babbles a lot.  He’ll definitely be trying to have a conversation with you like, “Bla bla baa bebebe sha ba daaaaaa da ba.” And you just have to nod and agree with whatever he says.

Like Xigbar, he’s great sleeper because he has so much energy during the day that he’s practically exhausted by nighttime.

Axel sometimes throws tantrums, but it’s usually only when he doesn’t get what he wants.  You won’t let him have a snack or a piece of candy from the store and he’ll get pretty upset with you, but he’ll get over it fairly quickly.

Demyx

Favorite Toy: Sing-Along MP3 Player

Singing gibberish since literally the day he was born.  Demyx has one of those little machines that has a speaker and microphone, and he drags the thing around ALL DAY, practically screaming into it because he thinks it’s singing and practically drives everyone nuts.

Loves to go in the pool! Demyx is a natural swimmer that doesn’t need floaties and isn’t afraid of water or getting water splashed in his face.  Laughs hysterically every time you let him play with the hose pipe.

Luxord

Favorite Toy: Kid’s Playing Cards

Luxord likes all sorts of card games, like Old Maid, Go Fish, etc. He’s also a really great master at Peekaboo.  Even though he’s a kid, 100% definitely has the skill to take all of your money in poker. Also likes matching games where you can find the matching pictures, Solitaire, and board games like Mouse Trap and Guess Who!  Not Monopoly, though.  He hates Monopoly.

Attracted to shiny silver and gold things, especially coins.

Likes to have someone sing him a lullaby before sleep and, unlike most kids, he really likes to have a bath.  Can’t sleep unless he’s clean and in new jammies!

Marluxia

Favorite Toy: Kid’s Gardening Set

Marluxia loves playing outside! Spends more time playing in the yard than inside, so he gets tons of fresh air.  Likes to play in the garden, pull weeds, and plant pretty flowers.  Would try to plant acorns and other seeds because he wants to see them grow into something big.

Also gets dirty A LOT.  He’s that crazy kid that makes mud pies whenever he possibly can and gets the mud everywhere. Over his clothes, tracked through the house, all across the driveway, on his skin, etc.

Larxene

Favorite Toy: An Old Barbie Doll, but it’s beaten up, hair torn out, and damaged

Larxene is a drama queen baby.  Practically acts like she’s a teenager even though she’s only three years old.  Definitely bosses the other babies around, like Angelica from the Rugrats.  An unbelievable amount of sass within a tiny body.

Terrible.  Tantrums.  All the time.  Every day.  Everywhere. Larxene is the master of the temper tantrum because she knows it’s one of the best ways to get what she wants. Doesn’t care who she bothers with her screaming as long as she gets whatever it is that she wants.

Roxas

Favorite Toy: A stick that he pretends is a sword.

A happy, cheerful baby who laughs at everyone and everything, but he is very clingy. You can’t set him down or he’ll get really upset and worried that you’ll suddenly disappear.

He’s a happy baby, like I said, but he also has a short temper.  If everything is the way he wants to be, he is the cutest most lovable baby in the world.  If anything is annoying him, he’ll throw an absolute fit.

Also likes to play with styrofoam swords all the time.  And for some reason, he has a habit of stealing your car keys (though you aren’t sure if it’s because he likes the shiny stuff or the jingling noise.).

Xion

Favorite Toy: A GIANT teddy bear that she can cuddle and sleep on.

A content, curious baby who doesn’t do much and is just happy to look around and see new things.  She’s absolutely precious!  Such a cuddle bug that loves hugs and skin contact just because she likes the warmth.

She’s cries sometimes, but not because she’s being a brat or throwing a tantrum.  Poor thing just has a lot of emotions and the only way she can get them out is to cry.  A quiet cryer, though.  She doesn’t have loud, screaming cries.

Gets distracted really easily.  She likes shiny things and noisy things and toys that squeak and rattle.  She loves toys of any kind and is always happy to get new stuff.

[transagentstern]

hh, 12 , ,, jakeith?

Thank you SO MUCH for this prompt this was so much fun to write- I haven’t written much jake or keith so I hope this meets your expectations (and feel free to send me more prompts if you want this was really really fun)

12.  I’ve been writing lame jokes on your cups because you’re the grumpiest person ever and you finally crack a smile

Jake had had just about enough of Keith whateverthefuckhislastname.

He came in every single day, and normally, Jake loved the regulars. But Keith was always grouchy, always combative, never smiled. He was very fussy about how his drink was made, and so Jake almost always ended up making it, because apparently none of the trainees knew how to measure chocolate pumps (and okay, maybe that wasn’t Keith’s fault, but he could at least be polite about it!).

So one day, after one of the trainees had fucked up Keith’s drink again (seriously, it was a mocha! How did they keep fucking that up?) and the trainee was very upset because Keith had glared at her and she was scared of him, Jake had it.

He clenched Keith’s stupid reusable cup in his hand (and damn him extra for being environmentally conscious, it made it harder to dislike the guy) slapped the order sticker on it, and then, because he knew the order by heart at this point, he pulled out his sharpie and scrawled across it-

Espresso your opinions more politely.

And he practically flung the mug across the counter, turning away in a huff, and he almost missed the sound behind him.

It sounded like a snort.

Jake turned on his heel, because there’s no way he just heard Keith mochaonepumpofchocolateoneofmint laugh.

Keith was covering his mouth, his glare exaggerated as he faked a cough, and okay, he had definitely just laughed. He slapped the lid on his cup and practically ran out of the store, and Jake grinned.

He had a plan.

The next day, for the first time, Keith came in with a different reusable cup. Jake didn’t let that phase him, as he took over the order, slapped the sticker on, and wrote I’m getting déjà brew – have I seen you around?

Keith started at it in stony silence for a full minute before he grimaced and speed walked toward the door.

___

Hope you’re not Procaffeinating

Tired? We’ve all bean there.

___

Jake started to notice things about his regular. He wasn’t really rude- didn’t curse, didn’t yell. He was just a big, intimidating guy, and all the newbies seemed to be scared of him. He was too short with people, but it seemed to be out of a lack of social skills more then because he was trying to be mean. He looked upset when the cashier’s flinched at him, and once, he’d been on the deck for an hour petting a stray cat.

About a third of the time, he came in with a person about a foot shorter than him. Whenever he did, they ordered for him and he hung back, but they always gave Keith’s name and another one of Keith’s cups (they gestured for it and he handed it over, with a glance over to Jake), so Jake kept leaving his notes.

___

Sweet Bean-ough to make you sick

I’m glad to see brew

____

Keith’s companion was named Hollis- Jake found that out from one of his coworkers. Apparently on Jake’s days off they gave their own name instead of Keith’s.

“Are you guys dating or something?” Dani asked, raising her eyebrows at him over the rim of her cup. They were sprawled on the break room couch.

“He always looks super bummed out when you’re not here. Hollis was making fun of him.”

Jake tried not to look too interested.

“What did they say?”

Dani waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Hollis said ‘better luck next time, you’re going to run out of cups eventually.’ don’t know what that means, but- Jake are you blushing?”

“No.” Jake tried to hide his face behind his cup as he went to make a sip, but Dani grabbed it out of his hand.

“You’re blushing! Come on, you gotta tell me now! What is it about the cups??”

Jake sighed.

“I’ve been writing coffee puns on his cups, okay? It’s nothing i just- didn’t know he was keeping them, that’s all.”

“Pick up lines???”

“No!” Jake swatted at Dani, who dodged back easily and stuck out her tongue at him.

“Nothing like that! Just…stupid things. I wrote him a mean one once because he made one of the trainees cry- don’t give me that look, he just…glared. I guess. But uh, it made him laugh. And I haven’t even seen him smile before or since, so-”

“Oh my god you’re totally gone on this guy.”

Jake scowled, opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it.

Okay, so….maybe Keith was cute. Big tall grumpy guy who looked upset every time he made somebody cry. Total softie for animals and for his friend.

“…well, maybe.”

“You gotta tell him!”

Jake sighed.

“How would I do that? I don’t even know the guy.”

Dani gave him a look like he was the dumbest person alive.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

____

You Steal the Joe

____

Jake slid the coffee over and held his breath, chancing a glance up midway though the next customer’s drink.

Keith was still standing by the counter, looking at the cup. His expression twisted, and for a moment, Jake thought he’d really fucked up. But then he wheezed, and Jake realized he was trying (and failing) to hold back a smile.

Keith grinned.

It was like the sun coming out.

Hollis was next to him, looked up at his smile, and then down at the cup. They elbowed him in the side, and his hand lifted to cover his mouth again- but the smile was there. Jake had seen it.

He was totally fucked.

____

Bean thinking about you a latte (I’m off at 3?)

____

Jake was almost glad it was in the middle of a rush on the next cup, because he couldn’t even think about seeing Keith’s reaction. By the time the stream of people let up, it was three, and his shift was up. He took a deep breath to steady himself, ignored the thumbs up from Dani, and went back onto the floor in his jacket and his hat, only half hopeful that anyone was going to be out there waiting for him.

Keith was sitting at the table next to the door, looking nervous, and before Jake could overthink it he went over and held out his hand.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Keith blinked at him for a moment, seemingly stunned, but then he smiled again- and it was just as blinding as the first time Jake had seen it.

“Yes.”

He took his hand.

[hazelandglasz]

Voltron Legendary Patissier (A Shklance AU)

I came across a wonderful drawing by @lemonjuiceday when visiting a con and I was immediately inspired to write this little fic. Nothing major, just a bout of fluff and food porn for our favorite boys (strictly food porn, you pervs ;))

On AO3

Lance didn’t expect to find himself in such a position, caught between two hard chests while working his part-time job.

Then again, he didn’t expect his part-time job to be in a bakery.

“A pâtisserie, not a bakery,” his boss insists, his fond, exasperated smile growing less and less fond and more and more exasperated with each time he has to repeat it to one of them.

Lance doesn’t blame him, he would be very specific too about his craft if he was … well, as crafty as Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, his associate and their apprentices.

While Shiro splits his time between the kitchen and the till, Lance strictly works behind the counter, serving the customers and writing down the special orders.

And daydreaming about the way Shiro’s biceps flex so wonderfully in his tight shirt, and how mesmerizing are his eyes when he watches someone trying something new fresh out of the oven …

“Lance?”

And just how beautiful he is, inside and out.

“For Apicius’ sake, Lance, snap out of it!”

Lance blinks back into the moment and back to the voice calling his name in such a pissed off manner.

Sure enough, Lance’s binome glares at him, angrily shoving delicate little chouquettes in a paper bag while their customer smiles at them, her eyes moving back between them as if watching a tennis match.

“Yes, my dear colleague, how can I help you?” he replies sweetly--too sweetly to be subtle, if the intensification of Keith’s glare (and of the customer’s giggle) is any indication.

“For the third time, since we apparently lost you in the void between your ears,” Keith replies in the same dulcet tone, “can you, please, if it’s not too much of an imposition for you to move, get in the kitchen and get back mille-feuilles for the showcase?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Lance says, winking at the still-giggling customer while simultaneously hip-checking Keith out of his way, “of course, of course.”

Keith’s sigh still reaches Lance’s ears before the door closes between the two rooms. Lance takes a moment to breathe.

As much as he finds Shiro attractive and amazing, he cannot shake the itch that has crawled under his skin ever since he met Keith Kogane.

A need to punch him in his perfect face, with his fist or with his mouth, the jury is still out on that one.

Keith has seniority over Lance but he also works only in the front of the store. 

And thus lays Lance’s problem.

While he can escape Shiro’s … shironess every now and then, Keith’s mindfucking keithness is always around him, hovering, glaring, grumbling in a way that should not be as sexy as it is, dammit.

So, yeah, Lance is in a hell of his own making and, heartache be damned, he loves every minute of it.

##

Okay, this has gone on for too long.

Lance cannot prove it, but he would bet his favorite nerfgun that Shiro is doing it on purpose.

It here serves as a summary of everything that Shiro does around the shop: carelessly shaking his hips to the sound of the music drifting from the records shop next door, licking the tip of his fingers when he accidentally gets cream on them.

Accidentally, right, as if.

And he supposes Shiro also left a flour handprint on Keith’s ass by accident.

By all that he holds dear, Lance is not mentally equipped to deal with the image of those two together, together.

Separately, they are already forces to be reckoned with and Lance tries really har--ahem--he really tries his best to stay professional and not do something stupid, like drool all over them.

But if they are together?

Well, that takes care of his fantasies of dating either of them, but that sparks a fire under the possibility of dating them both.

Madre de dios, he’s only human and that’s just, to quote the great 21st century philosopher Bruno Mars, too hot, hot damn.

Lance sighs before shaking his head.

He needs to focus. If he cannot have the man, men, whatever, of his dreams, then he’s going to work, and have one aspect of his life that will be successful.

Oh, they’re out of Divorcés.

As there are no customers in the shop at the moment, Lance skips to the kitchen to get a tray of the delicious pastry.

Except that there is a conversation taking place that he is not supposed to hear and cannot resist any way.

“... insane, Shiro.”

“It would be complicated, sure, but--”

“Complicated? Try disastrous. You know that I agree with you on how attractive he is, but bringing him into our relationship? Let me spell it out for you: D-I-S-...”

“Keith …”

“Shiro …”

“Come on, babe,” a soft, wet sound pauses the conversation, “you’re always ranting about ways to shut him up.”

A soft laugh answers that, one that Lance would definitely characterize as a giggle if it didn’t come out of Keith “Badass” Kogane’s lips.

“You think that would do the trick?”

“No,” Shiro replies, laughter in the back of his voice, “but maybe you wouldn’t object if what came out of that beautiful, pouty mouth was moans and your name.”

“Or yours.”

“Or both.”

“God, Shiro …”

More wet sound that leaves little to Lance’s overactive imagination, and he flees the hallway to get back to the safety of the bright shop, where no one talks about threesomes and moaning and beautiful bodies intertwined …

Lance snaps his eyes shut and takes a deep breath just as the bell over the door rings.

“Welcome to Paladelicious, how can I sweeten your day?” he says reflexively, putting a smile on his face.

If he focuses on his job, he’ll find a way to bury his feelings, be it his lust or his jealousy over the man Shiro and Keith apparently want to bring into their bed.

Lucky bastard.

##

Or he can quit.

Lance doesn’t want to, he really likes this job, especially since he adores the world of pastry and really could see himself thriving in this field.

But.

This is just too painful.

He knows that neither Shiro nor Keith saw him eavesdropping on them, but ever since that day, Keith’s glare only intensified and Shiro is …

Well Shiro is Shiro, welcoming and warm like a cozy sweater and a hot chocolate with cinnamon sprinkled on top, but there is something behind his gaze that pulls on Lance’s heartstrings.

It’s with a heavy heart indeed that Lance came to the conclusion that he has to leave Paladelicious, and he’s not the only one already regretting it.

“Dude.”

“Hunk, don’t try to change my mind.”

“B-but, Lance!” Hunk still continues while Lance keeps on writing his resignation letter to Shiro--yes, he’s taking the cowards way out of writing to instead of facing Shiro, but can anyone really blame him?

“Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, I’ll continue to say your name until you stop and look at me, Lance, Lance, Lance, L--”

“Hunk! Stop it,” Lance replies, making the rookie mistake of looking up at his best friend.

Because in spite of his height and bulk, the only real danger coming from Hunk Garrett is his puppy eyes.

“You don’t really want to leave us, do you Lance?”

“Of course I don’t want to!” Lance explodes. “But the alternative, it’s just too … too much for my--”

Before Lance can finish his sentence, his mouth finds itself otherwise occupied.

With an oversized chou, which is definitely on the petit side.

“Hmph!!!”

“Eat.”

“Hunpbdfrr!”

“You’ll thank me later. No one can be as moody as you were after my praline’d crème pat. And then we can close this silly conversation.”

As reluctant as he may be, Lance has to admit it: Hunk’s crème patissiere could ungrump the grumpiest of Grumps.

“Grumph.”

“Swallow.”

Lance laughs, most of the chou soothing his soul and filling his stomach already. “You know I always do.”

Behind them, at the piano, Pidge tsks as they boil several caramels in copper pans.

“Now, do you still want to leave? That means no more free goodies.”

“You’d still feed me some goodies when we get together, Hunk, don’t lie to yourself.”

Hunk blushes. “You’re probably right. But no more trying out my ideas if you’re not here.”

“You wanna leave?”

All three heads turn toward the door where Keith is standing, face even paler than usual and, oh dear Lord who has no mercy on Lance, hair tied in a messy bun.

Hunk and Pidge turn to Lance, a question in their eyes. What are you going to do now?

“I--I have considered it,” Lance mumbles. “May be best for everybody, all things considered.”

Even though I don’t want to. Even though it will hurt like a thousand knives dipped in hot sauce.

“But, I thought we--we bonded ...,”Keith opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, eyebrows going from a frown to sad before settling on anger again; funny how Lance never noticed how expressive those eyebrows were before.

“Fine,” Keith finally says, voice a lot colder than it ever was. “Do whatever you want, like I care. Not having to deal with you will bemmph?!”

Apparently, chou-shoving is Hunk’s move of the day.

“Do not. Finish. That sentence.” Hunk’s voice is frighteningly normal. Lance would be glad not to be on the receiving end of that tone if his mind was not replaying Keith’s words on repeat, with added acidic commentary.

Like I care. See, silly, he really does not need you in his life, not even as a co-worker so can you imagine dating him? It’s a wonder how you can even walk and breathe at the same time. Time for you to be useless somewhere else.

“Hunk, what the hell?!”

“We want Lance to stay and you are being mean.”

“You could have killed me!”

“With a chou? A deadly weapon for sure.”

“Guys?”

“What?”

“Lance left.”

Hunk glares at Keith. “Go fix what you broke.”

“But …”

“I am not afflicted with Lance’s obliviousness. Go; get him back. For everybody’s sake.”

Keith repeats his goldfish impression before giving Hunk a firm nod and rushing out.

Hunk picks a chou from the plate and munches on it. “Stupid men being stupid, amiright?”

Pidge nods vigorously, opening the chou open to suck on the creme. “Men being men, then.”

“Hey!”

“Not all men are as wise as you, Mr Garrett.”

“A’right, can’t deny it.”

##

Shiro doesn’t say a word, once Keith is done explaining what just happened in the lab.

He doesn’t frown, he doesn’t glare, he doesn’t yell.

He stands, shakes his head and opens the door to his office, aka the door to the back alley behind the store, nodding toward his bike.

Overall, Keith feels shittier than he did when he heard Hunk talking about Lance leaving, which is saying something.

He almost would have preferred for Shiro to scream at him.

At a redlight between the store and Lance’s place, Shiro pats Keith’s hands crossed over his stomach.

In Shironese, that pat means “it will be okay but you fucked up, my love.”

Keith tightens his hold on him.

In Keithan, that means “I am so sorry I got scared I fucked please forgive me.”

Since Lance took the bus back to his place, the three of them arrive at the same time.

Keith can see the moment Lance spots them on Shiro’s bike: Lance’s eyes widen and he stumbles.

“Lance, can we have a word?”

God bless Shiro for keeping his cool.

“What more is there to say?” Lance replies dejectedly with the saddest shrug Keith has ever witnessed. Now that he’s closer, Keith can see how red his eyes are and how pink his nose, and he cannot help the mixed feelings of guilt and adoration for the man standing in front of them that threaten to submerge him.

“I think Keith here has something to say,” Shiro replies softly, not so gently nudging Keith forward. “And I wouldn’t mind adding my two cents to what seems to be a classic miscommunication-provoked mess.”

Lance considers them, the unhappy downturn of his mouth increasing until he sighs, dropping his head to his chest. “Fine, come on up.”

Shiro and Keith exchange a look before following Lance up the flights of stairs leading to his apartment.

Keith spares a second to take in his environment and he has to repress the smile that threatens to appear at the sight around him. Lance’s place looks, well, it looks like him, warm and just a little bit messy but inviting and comfortable.

“Keith?” Shiro calls him, one eyebrow raised perfectly to push Keith to get on with his apology already.

Keith turns to Lance with a deep, strengthening breath. “Lance, I--I’m sorry for what I said back at the shop. I felt, um, I was hurt by the idea of you leaving us so suddenly, because, well, I--I, err, don’t want you to leave. The shop. Or,” he pauses, blidnly reaching for Shiro behind him, “or us, really.”

Lance’s eyes drop to their joined hands and if anything, his arms tighten around his torso.

Almost as if he’s trying to hold himself together.

“We don’t want you to leave,” Shiro repeats, taking a step toward Lance while still holding Keith’s hand. 

Lance’s frown increases. “‘S not like I’m such an important cog in the Paladelicious’ machine,” he mumbles, turning his back to them.

Shiro blinks before sighing fondly. Keith is familiar with that sigh.

It’s Shiro’s “God knows why I am getting myself in such a mess, but boy do I love every minute with you” sigh.

“Lance,” he says quietly, letting go of Keith’s hand to put both his hands on Lance’s shoulders, “I didn’t say a word about my store.”

Lance freezes before following the motion Shiro’s hands are provoking.

When he faces them again, his eyes are wide and shiny. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m saying that we,” Shiro moves his hands from Lance’s shoulders to his cheeks, “want you in our lives.”

Lance’s mouth parts open, eyes darting to Keith. “Both of you? You--with me?”

Keith takes the one step separating him from the two other men and cups the back of Lance’s head. “Both of us, with you,” he whispers before leaning over Shiro’s arm to lightly press his lips to Lance.

Pina colada flavored lipbalm. Of course.

Lance laughs and hiccups at the same time, resulting in an adorable “meep” sound. With one hand, he covers Shiro’s hand on his cheek while the other reaches for Keith’s waist.

“What do you say?” Shiro asks, voice barely above a murmur as he runs his nose along Lance’s temple before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I--I say,” Lance starts before pausing, eyes fluttering shut as Shiro continues on kissing odwn his cheek and jaw, “I say that I’m all in, baby!”

Both Shiro and Keith lean in to kiss Lance, which results in quite a messy situation where noses are bumped and lips don’t necessarily meet the previously aimed for location, but neither of them would have it any other way.

“Hey!” Lance exclaims, pushing both men away. “Does that mean you want to shut me up? I resent tha--mph!”

As a matter of fact, it turns out that Shiro was right.

Kissing the living Hell out of Lance is a perfectly efficient technique to shut him up.

The End.

[sweetheartjeongguk]

twitchy witchy girl

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: kiki’s delivery service au, fluff, minor angst

rating: pg

warning(s): oc is mean to jimin but makes up for it in the end, slight public humiliation

word count: 3.3k+

summary: maybe human boys aren’t so bad after all. 

a/n: here’s a late birthday gift to the loml park jimin 

masterlist | studio ghibli masterlist

“He’s here to see you again.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Honey, stop slamming your head against the counter. You’re going to give yourself a concussion.”

“Sounds like a fun way to go.”

“He’s been waiting outside for quite some time.” The older woman hums, one hand on her pregnant belly and the other resting on top of your shoulder.

When you first arrived in the new beachside town, you had high hopes of being incredibly popular and staying in a fabulous mansion where you practically drown in luxury. Instead, you’re stuck living in a one-room apartment with your cat familiar, Mochi, and working for Lee Eunji and her husband as their very first delivery witch.    

While most of the townspeople saw witches as nothing but troublemakers, Eunji saw a new opportunity.

“Tell him I’m dead.” You rub at your forehead once the throbbing became too much.

“He said he’d buy a Ouija board.”

“Tell him I moved away.”

“He can literally see you.” Eunji scoffs, waving a hand towards the front of the store.

With a disgruntled huff, you lift your head to follow Eunji’s line of sight.

Park Jimin stands with his hands tucked in his front pockets and an exasperated look on his face. He paces in front of the doorway, muttering something to himself while glancing into the store from the corner of his eye. When he notices your staring, he skids to a stop.

To this day, you have no clue why he’s interested in you. Sure, you’re a witch who can do all types of magic and fly on a broomstick which is enough to entertain the grumpiest of fiends. But one thing’s for sure – you and Park Jimin are two different people heading down two different paths. He’s the stereotypical rich boy who’s loved and admired by all simply for breathing air. Meanwhile, you’re the scary girl who can’t hold a decent conversation with another person without them sputtering something about magic and witchcraft.

“See?” Eunji chuckles at your obvious discomfort. “Can’t back out of this one, bud. Just go see what he wants.”

“Do you think you can bail me out of jail after I charm him into a cockroach and squish him with my foot?” You lean your cheek against the crook of your elbow in thought.  

“How about…” Eunji brushes back the strands of hair that fall across your face. “…you not resort to murder and just talk to him like a normal human being?”

“You’re just saying that because you think he’s pretty. He’s cast a spell on you too.” You roll your eyes as Eunji motions for Jimin to come inside.

“You’re the only witch here, sweetheart.” Eunji winks before going to check on the freshly baked loaves of bread resting in the kitchen.  

Jimin glows brighter than usual, his swept-back blond hair hidden underneath a red beret that makes him look like a stereotypical French boy. You snort to yourself when you take in the rest of his outfit – black-and-white striped shirt tucked into slim-fitting slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

Talk about Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.

“Why, hello there, Mr. Park! What can we do for you today?” Eunji peeps her head through the kitchen doorway.  

“Hi, Mrs. Lee.” Jimin replies smoothly, hands crossed behind his back in an innocent manner. “I was wondering if I could grab Y/N for a second.”

You could barely hold back your disgust when you notice Eunji melting under Jimin’s sweet façade. He has virtually everyone in town wrapped around his stupid chubby pinky finger, and you refuse to let yourself fall for one of his tricks. 

“Y/N’s not here right now.” You grit your teeth. “Please leave a message after the fuc—"

“Y/N! Be nice.”

You push off of the stool you were sitting in behind the counter with a grunt. Your muscles are still sore from your delivery yesterday. Thankfully, there aren’t any major deliveries that afternoon so you’re free to stuff your face with as many as chocolate pastries as your heart desires.

Jimin draws in a small breath as you approach, mentally preparing his little speech he wrote on his way to the bakery that afternoon. He starts to open his mouth but only lets out a pathetic squeak as you roughly brush past him on your way to the pastry tray on the other side of the room.  

“Y/N!” Eunji scolds before turning to Jimin with an apologetic pout. “I’m so sorry about her, she’s still trying to get used to everything.”

“Oh no, I understand!” Jimin chuckles awkwardly, a hand reaching behind to rub the back of his neck. “Anyways…Y/N, there’s s-something I wanted to ask you.”

You hum absentmindedly as you stuff a large creampuff into your mouth. You wonder if you could cast a spell to speed up his spiel so that you’ll still have time to catch the new episode of your favorite television show that’s scheduled to air in a half hour.

“My aviation club at school is hosting a party this Saturday.” Jimin announces, his voice wavering from subtle nerves. “I was wondering if you would like to come.”

You silently scold your heart for thumping a little harder than usual. Attending a party with Jimin as his…date. The word should have sent a disgusted shiver down your spine, but all you get is a flood of butterflies in your stomach.

For some reason, the thought of Jimin in a tuxedo didn’t seem so bad.

“Oh, that sounds lovely!” Eunji claps her hands excitedly. “It’ll be a great chance for you to make some friends, Y/N!”

“Oh yeah, definitely!” Jimin blurts out. “The rest of the guys are just dying to meet a witch. They’re really curious to learn more about how your broom works!”

Just like that, the mood dies. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t just die. It comes barreling towards the earth in a frenzy of fire and heat, striking the ground with tremendous force and destroying everything in its path.

He didn’t want you to go with him – he just wants to show you off like some circus act to his friends.

In that moment, you’re reminded of why you didn’t trust him. He might have Eunji and everyone else fooled, but you know better. Park Jimin’s just like everyone else, and you curse yourself for nearly falling into his trap.

Eunji watches inquisitively as you make your way towards the boy holding the invitation in both hands. There’s a tight grin that stretches across your face in a Cheshire Cat-like manner. The sight is quite unsettling to Eunji, but Jimin still beams at you as if he’s found the answers to his prayers.

“An invitation just for me?” You grab the invitation, ignoring the pleasant sensation of his soft skin brushing against yours.

“Yup! I saved one just for you.” Jimin nods excitedly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! We’re really interested in learn—”

Rrrrip.

Jimin’s smile breaks as you tear the card in half. You barely hear Eunji gasping in the background as you shred the invitation into several jagged pieces. With a snap of your fingers, the slivers of paper burst into flames and float pathetically to the linoleum floor in a burnt crisp.

In an instant, your crazed smile transforms into a disgusted scowl. “Thanks for the invite, but I’d prefer company with people who don’t use me as their personal flying monkey.”

“Y/N!” Eunji hisses sharply.

You ignore her. “I know you think that you’re being cute and funny, but honestly, you’re just annoying and pathetic.”

Jimin stands frozen in the middle of the bakery, his bleary eyes fixated on the burnt strips scattered across the floor. Eunji rushes over from the kitchen to collect the mess with a broom and dustpan, glancing up when she notices your figure escape through the backdoor towards your living quarters.

“Jimin, I am so sorry about her.” Eunji sighs in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

Jimin nods stiffly. “It’s n-no problem. I understand…”

Eunji opens her mouth at another attempt of a worthless apology, but Jimin’s already turning on his heel and heading out of the door, the tiniest sniffle betraying his quiet composure. Eunji watches in pity as Jimin disappears down the street with his shoulders slumped forward and his hands tucked into his front pockets once more.

He’s lucky that his route continues straight down the road. That way, Eunji doesn’t notice the tears dribbling down his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.  

Ever since you burned his invitation in his face, Eunji hasn’t spoken to you. After you escaped the bakery and hid in your room to watch tv with Mochi, she barged in with the pile of ashes in her hands. She promptly tosses the charred papers on top of your nightstand, turning on her heel with a repulsed sneer.  

“I’m disappointed in you. Honestly.”

Whether you like it or not, your chest twinges with guilt. Apart from being like a second mother to you, Eunji’s your best friend. When you faced the threat of living out on the streets with no food or money, she was the one who took you under her wing and offered you not only a job but a place to sleep and eat.  

Now, it’s as if the sight of you makes her sick to her stomach. This time, you couldn’t even blame Park Jimin for it.

“If he just left me alone like I told him millions of times before, we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“That may be,” Mochi purrs. “But you did embarrass him by burning his invitation in his face. The very same invitation he had kept specifically for you and only you.”

“So?” You grumble. “He only invited me because he wanted me to entertain his dumb friends.”

The gentle evening breeze soars in through your open window, chilling you to the bone. You slightly curse at yourself for not dressing in warmer pajamas, but your earnings for the month wouldn’t give you much. You’d borrow from Eunji, but 1) most of her wardrobe right now are maternity clothes and 2) she currently refuses to speak with you.

You let out a long whine, sounding exactly like your five-year-old self who cried when a wave toppled her over during a family vacation to the beach. “Do I have to?”

Mochi stares at you without a word.  

“What if I fake my death?”

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine…but if he doesn’t accept my apology, then can I fake my death?”

You feel silly.

Dressed in a white dress that molds tightly against your waist and puffs out at the skirt, you look and feel like a creampuff. After begging for her forgiveness for two hours straight, Eunji goes to work on preparing your party outfit. You pout about the centimeter-thick layer of foundation and powder, but Eunji shrugs off your complaints with an uncaring smirk. Perhaps it’s your punishment for not listening to her in the first place.

“It’s itchy.” You whine as the lace fabric continues to scratch against your skin.

Eunji holds in her laughter as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “If only you focused on your special magic training and not on hurting the feelings of people who like you, you could have learned how to cast an anti-itching spell.”

“Spells are hard…” You pout. “And he doesn’t like me, he just wants to pretend to get to know me so that he can tell people that he knows a witch. It’s exploitation at its finest.”

Eunji shakes her head in disbelief. “I’d think you witches would have some type of clairvoyance about you, but you’re completely dense.”

“I’m not a psychic.” You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to think that no one in this town cares enough to educate themselves on witch culture.”

“Well, if you weren’t such a grumpy old troll, then maybe you could educate those people about witches.” Eunji pokes your nose with the end of a concealer brush as she finishes up the last touch-ups to your makeup.

“I shouldn’t have to.” You try to cross your arms, but you find it almost impossible considering how tight the chest of the dress was. “For once, I want someone to learn for themselves for once instead of using me for laughs and giggles.”

Eunji sighs in defeat. While the makeup and fancy dress did wonders to brighten your usual gloomy appearance, the frown marring your brow seems to remain there permanently.  

“Honey…” Eunji says quietly. “I might not be a witch, but I know a thing or two about love. That boy definitely likes you for you, not because he wants to cross ‘Meet a witch’ off his bucket list.”

You continue to fiddle with the lace of the skirt, nearly ripping out a stray thread before laying your palms flat in your lap.

“I’ve never seen a boy so adamant about visiting a girl everyday even if he can just get one sentence in.” Eunji laughs softly. “Reminds me of my husband when we were first dating. He wouldn’t let me go for one second.”

You try to laugh, but you end up looking like you swallowed something inedible.  

“I’m not saying that you need to date him or anything.” Eunji shakes her head. “I’m just saying that you should give Jimin a chance. You’d do good with some friends in this town, even if it’s just him.”

With that, Eunji holds out a clenched fist. You’re quick to grab whatever’s in her hands, but you instantly blanch when the substance fills your palms. While most of the invitation’s burnt to a crisp, one part of the paper remains semi-readable.

“Ms. Witch…”

A couple days ago, you’d be rolling your eyes and threatening to shove your broomstick where the sun won’t shine if Jimin had called you by that nickname. Now, all you could feel is a delightful warmth that spreads from your face down to your toes.  

You’re screwed. You’re definitely screwed.

“You might want to head off now!” Eunji yells. You lift your head in surprise when you notice that she’s already escaped into the kitchen. “It looks like it’s going to rain! Better not be late!”

Desperately shoving the remnants of the invitation into your bra, you barely spare a coherent farewell as you dash into the street and kicking off the ground with your broomstick between your legs. As you head southwest towards the party, you force several deep breaths as you settle the anxiety that plagues your veins and kickstarts your heart into overdrive.

“This better work.” You whisper to yourself, ignoring the tiny droplets of water that begin to fall from the cluster of clouds above.

Your jaw drops at the vast size of the house. Classical music plays on repeat as the guests mingle around the dining room that looks as though it could fit an entire country and a half inside. You observe from the outside, completely unbothered as the rain soaks through your clothes and streaks your makeup. While you take a moment to admire the decorations strung across the walls and on the ceiling, your eyes wander in search of one individual in particular.

“Excuse me.” Someone coughs.

Behind you, a boy watches you with a dirty look, almost as if he wishes to say, “You obviously look like you don’t belong here”. While he isn’t far from the truth, you couldn’t help but mirror his unimpressed glare.

“I’m sorry, but this party is reserved for members only.” He retorts snootily. “I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Jokes on you, asshole, I have an invitation…” You answer quickly.

“Is that so?” He asks with a pretentious scoff. “Where is it?”

You choke on your words. You almost forgot that the evidence is literally shoved inside your cleavage. “U-Um…well the thing is…”

“Y/N?”

You, along with Mr. Stick-Stuck-High-Up-In-My-Ass, turn towards the new visitor. Your heart prickles with something foreign at the sight of Park Jimin in a suit and tie and a cute flower tucked inside his pocket.

“Hi…” You reply meekly, eyes fixated on the growing puddle on the edge of the sidewalk.

You completely miss the elated glint in Jimin’s eyes.

“She’s your guest, Park?” The boy asks warily, still viewing you as some kind of creature who escaped from the Black Lagoon.  

You’ll be sure to add a little something extra to his hors d’oeuvres when you get the chance.

“Yeah, she’s my plus-one.” Jimin answers confidently. “I didn’t get to give her the invitation, but her name’s on the list if you want to check.”

The boy watches Jimin carefully before rolling his eyes. “I’ll be sure to check the list. Be sure that next time, everyone has an invite before they just show up unannounced and unwanted.”

Oh, how you wish you could use your magic for bad just once. Sure, you might face lifelong consequences that could inevitably affect your future…but would one time really make a difference?

“Sorry about him.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “Jihyun can be pretty uptight sometimes…”

“I can handle uptight just fine.” You shrug awkwardly. “T-Thanks though.”

Jimin clears his throat. “Yeah, of course! Anytime…”

There’s a brief moment of silence that you wish you could break without looking like a complete fool. Thankfully, Jimin takes the initiative from you.  

“Y-You look really pretty.”

Thankfully, the foundation that Eunji caked onto your cheeks covers any sign of redness. Unfortunately, it did make you look like you took a dip into a giant frosting container.

“Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself.” You force yourself to playfully nudge at his shoulder. “You clean up rather nicely.”

“T-Thanks, my mom picked it out.” Jimin immediately clamps his mouth shut. You smile at the obvious embarrassment that floods his features and purses his lips into a demure pout.

It’s cute. In fact, it’s the type of cute that makes you want to drop everything and bring him back home to introduce to your entire family.

If only Eunji were here, she’d be getting a kick out of your emotional turmoil.

“Uh, a-anyways,” Jimin stammers nervously. “Why did you come tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, making Jimin quickly backpedal on his words.

“N-Not that you’re not allowed to come! You’re totally allowed to come, it’s totally fine by me. I j-just thought you didn’t want to…you know, after you…burned the invitation to a crisp.”

“Oh yeah! That reminds me…”

Jimin pales as you dig inside to collect the blackened scraps, your tongue poking through the side of your mouth in concentration. He quickly diverts his attention towards the large oak tree hanging overhead, trying hard not to think about how your breasts are half a foot away from his face.

“There we are!”

Hesitantly craning his neck towards you once more, Jimin meets your upturned hands that cradle the destroyed scraps of the invitation. He cocks an eyebrow at this – what’s he supposed to do with that?

Jimin swallows his retort when suddenly, the papers swirl around almost like in a mini tornado, fusing back together. With a poof, the paper transforms from a charcoal black to its original eggshell white, complete with the original detailing and “Dear Ms. Witch…” at the very top of the card. As a special treat, you add an extra touch that Jimin can’t help but crack a smile at.

There’s a crude stick figure drawing of the two of you sitting side-by-side with a tiny pink heart floating above your heads. It may have been a trick of the light, but Jimin could swear that your little stick figure presses a kiss to stick figure Jimin’s cheek.

“Ta-da…” You smile shyly as you slip the paper into Jimin’s hand. “It’s corny, I know, but…”

“W-What changed your mind?” Jimin asks bashfully as he presses the card to his chest.

You shrug teasingly. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were. Also, it helps that you’re a little cute.”

“And the truth?”

“Eunji threatened to steal my broomstick and sell it in next week’s yard sale if I didn’t show up.”

“Why am I not surprised?”