#how are you meant to give expressions to something that always has a permanent smile

[umblrspectrum]

hi little comic im too lazy to color or shade or attempt backgrounds ok b

and of course, the bonus panel included with every lego set

[mazeinthemiroh]

Hii could you write skz when you buy them a present they’ve been wanting really badly 🙏 no rush ❤️

stray kids when their s/o buys them a special present

genre: fluff

warnings: none

thanks for you request! please like and reblog if you enjoy <3

bangchan

he's so honoured! honestly, he never expects any type of present really, even if there is a special occasion involved. so he is taken aback that, not only you bought him a present, but also its something he has wanted for a long time. he gives you a massive, sloppy kiss and thanks you for the rest of the night. and will also probably scold you for spending money on him ....

minho

he blinks like a thousand times, completely in awe. he doesn't know what to say at first because he's so touched by your gesture. he grins shyly and holds the special present in his hands carefully, like the precious possession that it is. he feels he's not very good at expressing just how much he appreciates this through words, but you can tell he loves it just by the sparkly in his eyes.

changbin

he gets super touchy with you. he just wants to express how much he appreciates all your efforts in getting him this special present, and he feels that his actions and physical affection can give you more of that appreciation than his words can. but he would thank you and kiss you and hold you close. he just found another reason to love you even more!

hyunjin

he probably cries, i can't lie. he definitely tears up, if anything. he just feels so touched that you thought of him and that you know him so well, enough to get something that means a lot to him. you didn't realise how much this special item meant to him until he opened it; seeing his eyes shining with happy tears confirmed that it meant so much to him. and his love for you only grew.

jisung

he's so happy he's bouncing off the walls. he gets such a rush of energy but he contains it well, mostly showing it on the gummy smile he's got on his face. he gives you a massive hug and kisses you all over until you protest otherwise. probably really clingy for the rest of the night because he's like super happy and grateful and just wants to give you the same love you've given him

felix

felix is usually the one to give gifts. and he's really good at it. it's hard to compete with, honestly. he always knew what to get people. but after thinking long and hard about what felix wanted the most, you managed to get him the perfect gift, something he's been wanting for ages that he always put off buying. the joy on his face when he opened his present... you don't think you've ever seen him smile so widely.

seungmin

out of all of the members, i feel like he'd be the most touched. little things like giving gifts mean a lot to him, but the fact that you got him something extra special out of the goodness of your heart gets him really tearful. he loves you so much and his heart would be filled with such joy. he would tell you just how much this gift means to him, and how much you mean to him.

jeongin

he's extremely happy. there's a permanent smile on his face for the rest of the week because... wow?? he just wasn't expecting such an amazing present. probably teared up a bit when he opened it but he made sure you wouldn't notice. you could tell he was really touched, though, and with his beautiful smile on display, you were glad you got him this special gift.

[mychlapci]

Coworker hypnosis, like, office wife au Blurr always resented being the one go get the energon for everyone until it gave him the express privilege of slipping Sentinel his aphrodisiacs once or twice a day. Once the medics handed off the powder and the tech crew tweaked the datapad’s hypnosis it was go time. And Blurr can’t deny the warm feeling of arousal pooling in his gut watching Sentinel drink it down. The hypnopad has been preparing him all morning, telling him he loves his morning energon. That it’s the same as always, that there’s no difference in texture or flavor. That a little moan when swallowing something nice is normal. Blurr’s a little disappointed that there’s no immediate results, but they all knew it was meant to be a subtle build up. That Sentinel needed gentle guidance to be what he was meant to be.

Seemingly picking up on his disappointment, Sentinel gives him a little smile. Glossy lips parting in a thank you as he rises to stroke Blurr’s arm. And then Blurr’s slamming the no on his HUD to prevent his spike from pressurizing when Sentinel gives him a tiny little kiss on his cheekplate. And then laughs a little at how pink his face has turned. There’s still nothing visible by mid cycle, but Blurr brings everyone their energon again. Sentinel, having been deeply amused by Blurr’s earlier blushing and stammering, gives him another little kiss. This one brushes the corner of his mouth. The whole office is watching as he drinks his energon down with a tiny moan. Sentinel loves their optics on him. Their attention right where it was meant to be.

It takes almost two weeks for the aphrodisiacs to build up enough to see real results. That’s fine, since it pairs nicely with the hypnopad’s latest subliminals. Sentinel definitely notices how sensitive his plating has become, how warm he feels when the others stroke their thumbs against the small of his back while leading him around. Doing his work with his overlays on, not even noticing when he begins grinding ever so slightly in his seat. It’s good to let his coworkers touch him, it feels so nice. It’s right to be touched and to feel so good. Sentinel is meant to feel good. He loves when his coworkers touch him, no matter where it is. It’s normal to feel aroused by your coworkers’ touches, because Sentinel is meant to feel good. And so he doesn’t question it when hands begin to stray a little lower. Trying to keep his little breathy squeaks of excitement contained when they ghost over his aft plates. Stroking them so slowly and lightly, driving Sentinel crazy. Finally, when he’s bent over a conference table to reach the model in the center, Jazz grabs his aft. And instead of screaming and tearing the mech a new one, Sentinel only arches his back and lets out a small moan of pleasure. Heat rushes to his faceplates as he tries to stammer an apology for the misconduct. But everyone is smiling at him, and Jazz is kneading the mesh so distractingly.

“Does that feel good, sir?” Cliffjumper asks knowingly. Sentinel can only whine and push back into Jazz’s hands. “Good, we’re all glad. You work so hard, sir, you deserve to feel nice.” And then as if nothing had happened they all go back to the meeting. Sentinel could swear he still feels Jazz touching his aft but the mech’s hands are on the table. He almost misses the touch. But from then on his coworkers are happy to grab or pinch his aft. Running a teasing hand over his chest. Or, for the most daring, slipping their hands from his lower back to just between his legs. Teasing his permanently hot panel with their fingertips before groping his aft to play it off. It leaves Sentinel a distractible, horny mess as he denies his spike pressurization regularly. Until, between his constant denials and the hypnopad telling him that his valve wants to play, his spike stops trying to pressurize and his puffy, needy pussy starts gushing lubricants instead.

Sentinel, of course, rushes to the medics. First Aid feels blessed by Primus to be the one getting to examine Sentinel’s array. He hmms and mumbles under his vocalizer as he strokes and pets the hot valve under his hand. Making nonsense notes on his datapad as Sentinel grows more and more aroused until First Aid grants him a small overload by stroking his node. The spike tries to pressurize a little, the tip peeking out of its housing once or twice. But First Aid just gently presses it back inside, careful to make a worried noise and tell Sentinel that it shouldn’t be so easy to do—though it absolutely should.

“Well, from what you’ve said about your sensitivity and arousal, and between your cute spike failing to pressurize and your valve overloading so easily, diagnosis is easy,” First Aid says matter of factly, “You’re going into heat.” This is, of course, a lie. No one on Cybertron has had a heat since before the Allspark was lost.

“Heat?!” Sentinel cries, thighs still in the stirrups and valve drooling lubricants onto the medical berth, “I can’t go into heat! I-I���m too busy for one! And I don’t even like using my valve.” First Aid would roll his optics if he could, given the needy way the calipers were cycling at his as he petted the outside of the array. But he has a job to do.

“I’m going to prescribe you some suppressants. It can take up to two weeks to see any effect, but if you don’t see any results you’ll need to come back.” And then promptly hands him a bottle of estrogen.

It only makes Sentinel feel softer and needier. Imbalanced and emotional, but also burning with need and sensitive from the aphrodisiacs. But he can rely on his coworkers to comfort him when he cries from embarrassment at leaving a wet print on his seat for the first time from sheer arousal. Or when tears run down his faceplates because he forgot to say thank you, and what if they’re angry with him. Or in frustration, painted lips pouting when Blurr won’t let him have his energon cube without giving him a kiss and then insists on feeding it to him to “make sure he’s following medic’s orders.”

After two weeks of “no effect,” First Aid prescribes him a higher dose and tells him that if this doesn’t work they may just need to put him on birth control and let the “heat” run its course. And all the while Sentinel’s aft fills out and his hips begin to widen. With the increase in dosage, his chest feels oddly sore. The hypnopad assures him it’s all normal. That he only feels this way because he’s denying his frame’s needs. That he can rely on his coworkers, they’re so handsome and strong. How kind they’ve been to him while he’s been such an emotional wreck. And Sentinel is meant to feel good, after all. How bad could one little heat be?

YES YES YES dose him with some robo-estrogen, he won’t even see it coming. He thinks his suppressants are warding off his heat, and his colleagues let him believe it for a little while, easing off on the teasing so that Sentinel doesn’t get too suspicious while his meds and the hypnosis run their course…

I’m imagining him storming First Aid and telling him that he must have messed up his meds or something because– because he’s, well… It takes a private room for him to finally take his chest-plates off. His model was not equipped with energon sacks, all the protomesh around his spark-chamber was strictly protective, covering his delicate components. But there they were. Two little peaks have puffed up under his chassis, the nozzles, meant to release pressure from under the protoform, are now swollen, constantly rubbing up against the back of his chest plating. It’s awful, and he hates them, he can’t help but get all flustered and teary as he shows them off. First Aid just tuts, and after taking his fill groping Sentinel’s tits for “examination” he says it’s possible the heat is pushing through the meds in, uh, creative ways… He definitely needs a higher dose.

Sentinel’s symptoms only get worse. He’s still a wreck and his body just won’t stop changing. He’s gaining weight in his hips and thighs, he’s still so horny but he can’t get any relief because his spike doesn’t work anymore. He can’t coax it out of its sheath and when he does, it comes out hardly pressurized, a tiny cocklet that has barely any sensation in it. In the evenings he lies feverish and horny in his bed, forcing his silly little spike out and struggling to wring out just one overload out of it, constantly left unsatisfied when all he manages is one weak, dry orgasm a night. The only thing that makes him feel good is his work, and the mechs at the office, when they touch him and tell him he’s doing so well, and he looks so pretty. Sentinel never thought of himself as pretty. mhmm I wonder how long it will take him to finally crack and touch his valve. The overload he’ll clumsily finger out of himself will be explosive, he won’t be able to stop gasping, trembling for at least another ten minutes afterwards.

He can’t stand it. He’s gotta make the heat run its course, he needs it. He can’t keep fighting it, he realizes, it’s only going to take a couple weeks, his coworkers will help him… they’re good mechs. hrghh Sentinel’s “heat” never really passes. They keep dosing him with aphrodisiacs and estrogen, keeping him in his “transition” while he blindly believes he’s just about to be relieved of his heat… He doesn’t notice when it’s been three weeks, a month, two months…

[gamerwoo]

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Part Three)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, boy next door/neighbor!hyunjin, generally inexperienced and painfully shy virgin!reader, fluff, humor, there’s a little angst if you count reader panicking lmao, chan does onlyfans lmao, reader almost walks in on something she shouldn’t (but nothing spicy happens), mentions that reader and chan madeout once while they were a little intoxicated and she had a panic attack, reader has anxiety, implied that reader has issues w her mom, reader and co get drunk (if i missed anything lmk!!), minors dni!!!

Word count: 5,890

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

tag list: @hyuneyeon​ @ack-aashi​ @rindomo​ @fridayamirah​ [be added to the taglist by filling out this form!]

permanent tag list (italics are unable to tag): @minluvly​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @woozarts​ @septicrebel​ @4kwp @thepencilkorner​ @shmooooo​ @bubblelixie​ @byunhoebaek​ @dejavernon​ @ahandfulofkeys​ @slut-for-dabi​ @avyskai​ @pussymode @sunoosult​ @moonlightcandy00​ @missrobyn81​

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Mrs. Park texted you that morning, saying you wouldn’t be needed. Apparently Hajoon was sick and she wanted to stay home with him, which you didn’t mind. It meant you had a free day to yourself, and after what happened with Hyunjin the previous day, you really wanted to see your friends and get their take on everything. As much as you wanted to gush about everything to Chan last night while playing Smash, you found yourself listening to how his day had gone and getting off-track a lot, so you didn’t really have the time or space to say anything. So you got ready to go out for the day and make your way to your old apartment to see your friends. 

Seungmin and Minho might’ve been busy, but you knew Chan was always home. Plus, he let you keep the spare key that Minho illegally copied, so you could get in even if Chan was for some reason not home.

“Yo, _____!” Jeongin waved at you from the front desk as you walked through the lobby.

Your eyebrows knitted together, “I thought you worked nights.”

“Had to switch shifts,” he shrugged. “Where’re you off to today? You’re leaving later than usual.”

“No work today,” you sighed as you strolled up to the desk and rested an elbow on it. “Gonna go visit my friends and hope they’re around.”

“Do they live far?”

“Couple hours away or something like that.”

“Oh, well have a safe trip,” he grinned.

“Thanks!” you chirped and waved goodbye, starting to walk away.

“Oh, hang on!” Jeongin suddenly gasped, making you stop and take the few steps back toward the desk as he fished around for something on the desk by the computers that you couldn’t see. “Before you go… This is for you.”

He held out a folded piece of paper with a knowing smirk, though you didn’t know why.

“Oh,” was all you said, taking the paper with a slightly confused expression.

You continued to stand there as you unfolded the paper, and then you felt butterflies in your stomach as you read the short note, a smile creeping onto your face despite not wanting it to with Jeongin standing right there.

I forgot to give you my number. Text me sometime

-Hyunjin

P.s. I’m holding you to this too

“Have a good daaaay, _____,” Jeongin sang.

‘He definitely read the note,’ you realized, folding the note and waving to Jeongin again before swiftly leaving the building.

-

Chan’s car was parked in the usual spot, so you knew he was home. But knocking on the door left you with no answer. Chan was probably asleep since it was before noon. So you let yourself in.

You left your bag by the door as if you still lived there, kicking off your shoes and hanging up your coat in the usual spot you used to. Then you went straight to the bedroom you used to share with Chan, busting open the door and mouth open, ready to yell at him to wake the hell up because you had a situation.

Except there was a new situation in front of you that made you stop dead in your tracks, inhaled breath held, and mouth still open.

Chan stood in front of you, facing the door with his phone on a tripod between him and the door, the screen facing him. He was dressed in a nice white button-up and some black slacks. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his toned abs that you’d seen far too many times, and his hands were frozen, in the middle of unbuckling the belt around his slacks.

He stared at you silently, as you did the same to him.

Finally you let out a sigh, “I thought that this would stop happening now that we don’t live together.”

“Well maybe if you’d knock,” he stated, dropping the buckle.

“I knocked on the front door, how did you not hear?”

“I figured you were like, a delivery person or something and you’d just leave it out there!”

“Well I figured you were asleep!”

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, “You realize I have to do this commission all over now, right?”

“Well, do it later,” you told him. “I need your help.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave you a concerned look, “Help? You doing okay?”

“Love life help,” you confessed with a sigh, knowing that would absolutely pique your friend’s interest.

And it did, as gasp leaving his lips as his eyes went wide, “Really? Aw, _____!”

“No, it’s… I don’t know what it is. Just get changed and I’ll wait in the living room.”

“Why can’t I just wear this?”

“Chan, you’re almost half-naked.”

“Yeah, and? _____, we slept in the same room forever and you’ve definitely seen me wear less,” he scoffed.

You shrugged with a slight nod, “Yeah, touché.”

-

Curled up on one side of the couch with your back to the arm rest, one knee to your chest with your other leg curled under you, Chan almost mimicked you as he sat on the other side, only one of his legs was stretched out in front of him, almost reaching your leg. He folded his hands on his stomach as he kept his full attention on you.

“So you know Hyunjin?” you asked.

He narrowed his eyes, quirking a brow as he thought, “That’s…the front desk guy?”

You shook your head, “Hot neighbor. Front desk guy is Felix the Austrailian.”

“Right, hot neighbor!” he nodded, wagging a finger at you. “Still think you should go for front desk guy, but I’m just biased.”

You rolled your eyes, “Anyway, he like…hit on me, I think?”

“You think?”

“I mean, like… Okay, so he asked me to help him bleach his hair so I went over, and we watched a movie in between him processing, and then he told me he actually knew how to dye his own hair and he just wanted an excuse to invite me over because he wanted ‘a pretty girl to play with his hair’.”

Chan kept his eyes on you through your entire babbled recap. Honestly, he was surprised that he even kept up with how fast you were talking, but he seemed to understand everything, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Aw, _____! That’s good!” he grinned. But he saw the way you were biting the inside of your cheek despite the small smile on your face, and how you were fiddling with the strings of your hoodie. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a groan as if it were obvious, bursting, “Chan, I’m a virgin!”

“Okay, didn’t realize we were jumping to sex so quickly,” he commented.

“No! He didn’t jump to anything – I mean, I think he almost kissed me but then you called.”

Chan seemed upset with himself, giving you puppy-dog eyes as his jaw dropped slightly, “I cockblocked? I didn’t mean t– Oh, wait, is that a good thing?”

Chan knew how you got when people kissed you. He may or may not have discovered your issue himself when the two of you were kind of drunk during a night at home without Seungmin and Minho where you both admitted to finding the other cute – you still thought Chan was good-looking, but you definitely did not see him as someone you wanted to date. You still weren’t sure who kissed who first, but Chan’s tongue was in your mouth and suddenly, you shut down. Eyes squeezed closed, body tensed, and your breathing was jagged and uneven.

You were having a panic attack. And it happened every single time somebody new kissed you, and it usually took you a few times to actually warm up to them enough to makeout with them comfortably. You still didn’t know why you were like this – maybe it was just the anxiety of knowing you were inexperienced and you feared you were a bad kisser or whatever awful thing that could go wrong – but you were embarrassed every single time it happened nonetheless.

But Chan was now fully aware of your fears. He was there to hold you and promise you that you were okay in between your breathy apologies. You opened up to him about what might have caused you to do that, and told him it happened with your last two – and only two – boyfriends, so you were pretty sure this was just…a thing. 

A thing that you hated so, so much.

You frowned and looked down at your lap, feeling defeated, “I don’t know, dude… I wanted him to kiss me, but I also didn’t want to, y’know, hyperventilate and freak him out. But also, I don’t even know if he only wants to kiss me. Like, what if he’s just looking for a hook-up? Or even if he does want a relationship, how am I supposed to explain that I have no clue what I’m doing in regards to basically anything?”

Chan just shrugged, his lips pressing into a thin line, “You just be honest. If he’s worth your time, he won’t care. No decent person will think less of you, _____; I’ve told you that so many times.”

“I know, but I care!” you shot back.

“You care too much,” he stated.

“I know!”

“Look,” Chan sighed, letting his head tilt to the left and rest against the back of the couch, looking at you softly – if it were anyone else, you’d think it was pity, but because it was Chan, it was more like…a weird sense of understanding; like he could see your point of view, “I know you’ve said your anxiety is manageable, and I do think it is. But when it comes to more…physical relationships, I think that’s when it really stops you. You care too much because you're anxious, and you need to figure out where that stems from and work on it.”

You scoffed, “I think we both know where it stems from.”

“You can’t blame everything on your mom, _____.”

“She made me a people pleaser!” 

“Sweetie, you’re far passed people pleaser,” he chuckled, even though he found no humor in your mental state. “You’re more like a…”

As Chan stopped to think of a word, you let out an annoyed huff, “This isn’t even about any of that. Can we get back to the Hyunjin thing?”

“Right,” Chan cleared his throat as he readjusted himself on the couch to get a bit more comfortable. “Well, my dear, I think… I think you need to just see what his intentions are. Go from there and just explain your boundaries.”

“But it’s embarrassing having to tell people I’m in my 20’s and have only had two one-month-long relationships, and I’ve never done more than makeout with someone,” you whined, looking at Chan with desperation like he could make all your problems go away if you begged him hard enough.

“If he thinks it’s embarrassing, you call me and I’ll bring Minho and Seungmin over to embarrass him,” Chan promised with a laugh. “They don’t hold back.”

You let out a sigh, eyes staring off as you recalled the many times the pair had made a virgin joke to you, “As much as I sometimes wish they would. Even they were shocked when they found out I’m still a virgin!”

He cocked his head to one side, eyebrows creasing together in confusion.

“When we played that drinking game, I had to confess how many people I’ve slept with,” you explained. “I said I was a virgin and both of their jaws dropped.”

Chan’s eyes widened when he recalled the memory, “Oh! Oh, _____, no! They weren’t shocked because of your age, it’s because they didn’t think like… Like someone like you could be a virgin.”

It was your turn to be confused, “Someone like me?”

“Well, you don’t exactly look like an incel, y’know?” he stated, gesturing to you across the couch. “You’re good-looking, _____, and you don’t act like…weird. I mean, you’re weird, but in a likable way. You don’t have the appearance or personality of someone you’d think would still be a virgin. Think, like: sweaty guy who lives in his mom’s basement.”

“Oh…” you figured that made you feel a little bit better that your roommates were never judging you that hard. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” he grinned, his eyes crinkling in the outer corners. “So, did you wanna go do something, or what? Maybe get your mind off things for a while.”

“Kinda was hoping we could just play video games or something,” you told him. “When are Seungmin and Minho coming back?”

“Seungmin should be back any minute, and Min’ll be a couple hours,” he said, checking his watch that he really only used for ‘daddy’ commissions for his Onlyfans, so you laughed a little seeing that he still had it on despite being changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He looked back up at you and narrowed his eyes. “You shut your mouth.”

“Didn’t even open it,” you replied.

-

Changbin eyed Hyunjin from across the table, watching as the younger boy kept his eyes on his phone as he nervously curled a strand of blonde hair around his index finger, biting at his bottom lip and bouncing his leg. To his left, his girlfriend, Kit looked over the menu, oblivious to whatever was going on between the two friends – or she didn’t care.

“Are you going to like, be here anytime soon?” Changbin asked.

His voice made Hyunjin jump slightly, looking up with wide eyes, “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like, ten minutes,” Changbin told him. “And judging from your nervous ticks, I don’t think you’re just scrolling social media. Honestly, I haven’t seen you nervous in a long time. What’s up?”

Hyunjin sighed, dropping his phone on the table and running both hands through his hair, “She hasn’t texted me.”

Changbin’s eyebrows dropped as he deadpanned, “This about about apartment girl, isn’t it?”

“Can you stop judging me?”

“A girl?” Kit asked, eyes widened as her interest in the conversation piqued, her menu being lowered to look between her boyfriend and his best friend. “There’s a girl involved? Jinnie, you like a girl?”

“He hardly knows a girl,” Changbin corrected. “Remember, the girl who moved in across from his apartment?”

“Oh,” she nodded, recalling Changbin briefly mentioning the situation to her – well, he ranted about it but she picked out what was important. “She made you blonde. Y’know, Jinnie, I’ve pegged you for a lot of things but never a hopeless romantic.”

At least her stupid joke could make Hyunjin laugh, looking down at the table as he seemed to relax slightly in his seat.

“Did you give her your number?” Changbin asked.

“I left it with one of the guys at the desk – Jeongin, remember him?”

“Maybe he just didn’t see her today.”

“She always works weekdays,” Hyunjin insisted. 

“Maybe she didn’t like your ‘move’ as much as you thought,” Kit chuckled, mostly just trying to tease him a little and lighten the mood a bit more.

If anything, it made him more tense as he said, “No, she did, I know it! I’m so good at reading people, Kitty -- you know! She was blushing and hiding her face and everything. It was honestly really cute…”

Though, it more so sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than them.

“Maybe she’s busy,” Changbin suggested with a shrug. “If she’s working, that’s probably what it is. I mean, what does she even do?”

Hyunjin scoffed, picking up his phone again and sliding a little bit down against the seat of the booth, “I’m not asking. Then she’ll ask what I do and I’m not getting myself wrapped up in any lies before I can…explain.”

“I mean, if she’s as shy as you said, maybe she’s afraid to text you first,” Kit said as she went back to looking over the menu. “Bet you didn’t think of that one, loverboy.”

Hyunjin looked at her absolutely dumbfounded. He looked like she just casually told him the meaning of life. Honestly, why didn’t he think of that? He obviously knew how shy you were.

While Changbin just smirked at her and gently nudged her side, “Good call, babe.”

“I know everything,” she nodded. “The only way that girl could ever possibly have the courage to text you is if she’s drunk – and that’s still a solid maybe.”

And almost on cue, Hyunjin’s phone buzzed against the table. Kit set her menu down and Changbin glanced at the glowing screen as Hyunjin picked up his phone slowly, eyeing Kit before his eyes flickered down to the screen to see a text from an unknown number.

-

Two slices of pizza and two rounds of Beerio Kart later, you were considering just spending the night at your old apartment. Despite loving your own space, you missed having people around. You missed the good moments of being drunk and laughing about nothing and everything because they could somehow make anything a joke – including the one time the four of you heard a thud from the apartment above you and Minho suggested that the old man who lived there finally kicked the bucket and instead of calling someone, all of you were laughing until you were crying.

Except Jisung basically lived there now, sleeping on their couch more often than not.

And boy, was explaining the situation to him fun.

“I don’t get why this guy maybe wanting to date her is a big deal,” he had said when you were recapping the situation to Seungmin and Minho.

“She’s nervous because she’s scared he’ll think she’s like, weird or undateable if she’s still a virgin,” Minho deadpanned, eyes still on the screen.

Jisung’s jaw dropped, “You’re still a virgin?!”

Needless to say, you finished your drink first and won the first round.

Now, you were two whole drinks deep, you were feeling pretty tipsy – like, tipsy to the point that you were about to confidently tell Jisung your whole life story for fun – and you were contemplating just not going home at all since you were having so much fun. But you also knew it was the alcohol talking because, god, you loved your bed.

“One more?” Minho asked, setting the controller down on the coffee table.

All five of you crammed onto the couch, with Jisung perched on the back, one foot planted on the right armrest while the other was behind Minho. Chan sat beside him on the back of the couch with you sitting comfortably between his legs, leaning back into the cushions as your legs stretched out in front of you. Minho made damn sure to manspread enough to get his own space, while Seungmin leaned into the left arm of the couch. But Seungmin at least seemed content having to lean into the arm of the couch. It could be worse – he could be sitting by Jisung.

“I don’t think _____ should keep drinking,” Chan spoke up, always the voice of reason. “She’s gotta get home, remember?”

“She can crash with you, it’s fine,” Seungmin told him, waiving the worry away.

“The bed is gone, remember?”

Minho and Seungmin looked up at Chan, then at each other, like they forgot you were really gone.

“You guys had a fourth bed?” Jisung exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s in the dumpster now,” Minho told him as he got up from his seat. “Why don’t you go sleep in it?”

“What if we make sure _____ gets home safe?” Seungmin asked as Minho went to the kitchen for another beer, and Jisung swung his legs around the back of the couch to go follow him. “Then can we play one more?”

“Yeah, dad,” you leaned forward and turned your head to look up at Chan with pleading eyes, “can we?”

Chan gave you a stern look, “How will we know you made it home? We can’t go on the train with you.”

And that was when you remembered something. Something that made butterflies erupt in your stomach before, but now only brought you drunken delight.

“I have Hyunjin’s number!” you squealed. “I forgot! I can text him and I can see if he’ll pick me up from the train station and–”

“And you can blow him in his car!” Minho teased with fake-enthusiasm, though the shit-eating grin he gave you when you glared at him was very much real.

But then you raised your eyebrows and said, “Unless…”

“You won’t,” Chan stated, but it wasn’t like he was telling you that he didn’t want you to. He was telling you that they all knew you wouldn’t.

“How did you forget to tell us you have his number?” Seungmin wondered, leaning toward you as you fished the note from your pocket and began typing the number into your phone.

“It’s _____ we’re talking about,” Minho scoffed.

“Are you sure you wanna text him right now?” Chan asked warily.

“I’m not that drunk,” you promised. “Only enough to have a little more confidence and courage.”

“You go, bestie,” Jisung chimed in before taking a drink of his beer.

Minho groaned, looking at him in annoyance, “Now you need a new beer to play!”

You drowned out their bickering as you typed Hyunjin’s name into your phone before starting a new message.

?????: hey, it’s _____! sorry i didn’t text you earlier!!

“That’s so dry,” Seungmin commented beside you before adding with a shrug, “I mean, you are a virgin.”

You lifted your head to glare at him, meeting his innocent gaze, “Do you want me to announce that I’m drunk?”

“It would make things more interesting, yeah.”

Before you could quip a reply, your phone buzzed in your hand.

Hyunjin 😳💌: no worries! how was work today?

_____ 😌🥰: i didn’t. i hung out with friends all day

Hyunjin 😳💌: oh, that’s fun!

Hyunjin 😳💌: what did you do?

_____ 😌🥰: beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: im a PRO at beerio kart lmao

Hyunjin 😳💌: did you make it home alright after that or are you staying over there?

_____ 😌🥰: ummmmmm

“He’s also unbearably dry,” Minho commented, disgust in his tone as he watched you text from over your shoulder.

You shoved him away from you, his face landing in the cushions.

_____ 😌🥰: I still have to take the train home

Hyunjin 😳💌: you’re not still drunk, are you?

_____ 😌🥰: i mean…..i’ve been drunker

Hyunjin 😳💌: do you need me to pick you up from the station? will you be able to get on the train okay? i can pick you up wherever you are

Jisung clicked his tongue, “He sounds desperate.”

You turned your head around to give him a confused look, “I hardly even know you.”

Hyunjin 😳💌: sorry if i’m being a lot lol i just want you to get back okay

“Does he even know where you are?” Seungmin asked. “I don’t think he’s that committed to driving all the way here. It’s kinda long.”

“How much do you trust this guy?” Chan wondered, looking a little concerned. “You’d be in a car alone with him for about two hours.”

“That also means even more Beerior Kart than just one more round,” you pointed out, a grin spreading across your face.

“Yeah!” Minho cheered, holding his beer in the air. “We love Hyunjae!”

“Hyunjin,” you corrected.

“Whatever-the-fuck!” he said in the same tone with the same smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t know if I would want you in a car with him for two hours if you’re gonna be even more intoxicated,” Chan admitted, placing a hand on your upper back.

Your phone buzzed again in your hand, but it continued to buzz after the first one. You looked down to see Hyunjin’s name illuminated on your screen.

“He’s calling!” Seungmin gasped with wide eyes.

“Go take it in my room,” Chan told you, helping you to your feet and gesturing to his bedroom door. “I already know these freaks will start moaning in the background and shit.”

“Can you be like, a little more fun, grandpa?” Minho frowned.

You went into Chan’s bedroom and shut the door, feeling nervousness wash over you despite having liquid courage in your system. Maybe that was just the overall anxiety of taking phone calls. Still, you forced yourself to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, _____,” Hyunjin breathed. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m at my old apartment with my friends,” you explained. “They’re trying to figure out the whole ‘me leaving’ situation.”

“Like I said, I can come get you,” he offered again. “Where are you?”

“It’s almost two hours away,” you chuckled.

“That’s okay. I’d rather you be safe than worry about a long drive.”

“Weeeeeeell…” you began slowly, wondering if you should even admit this to Hyunjin or not but your mouth was talking before your brain could consider anything else, “one of my friends is kinda concerned about me being drunk and alone in someone else’s car for two hours.”

Thankfully, Hyunjin laughed, “Understandably so. I can pick you up from the train station if you need. Do you need money for a ticket?”

“No, I’m okay. I think maybe Chan just wants me to get a taxi from the station or something.”

“I can call one for you and have it there by the time you get there.”

Feeling maybe too bold from the alcohol, you blurted the question that suddenly came to your mind: “Hyunjin, why are you being so nice to me?”

Your boldness seemed to catch him off-guard for a minute considering his silence, but you heard somebody chuckle in the background, along with a feminine-sounding laugh. It made your heart sink a little bit. Was he with another girl?

‘Are you seriously getting jealous already?’

But in your tipsy state, you’d basically forgotten about it when Hyunjin started talking.

“I’d be like this with any of my friends,” he told you. “If you’re drunk, I want to make sure you make it back safely. So if I can’t personally make sure, I’ll call a taxi at the very least.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to pick me up,” you babbled, unable to control your mouth because about 50% of your brain was just spilling whatever it thought up, “I just want Chan to not worry about me, either.”

He chuckled, “Sweetheart, I get it. I’m not offended.”

Your face was already feeling flushed from the alcohol, but it somehow got hotter hearing him call you that. You were kind of glad you weren’t around him because you didn’t want him to see how big your smile was at the name.

“‘Kay, just making sure,” you told him, still giggling from the way your heart fluttered from the use of ��sweetheart’. You were probably going to think about that all night.

“Let me know when you leave and I’ll have the taxi ready for you,” he promised. “Let me or your friends know if anything happens, alright?”

“I will.”

“Have a good night, _____.”

“Thanks, Hyunjin!”

The bedroom door creaked open just as you ended the call. You looked up from the phone to see Seungmin’s head poking in, a devilish grin on his face.

“One more?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, “One more.”

-

The train ride went smooth despite you having the spins, and you were pretty sure you were almost fully-sober by the time you were in the taxi. But when you got out of the car and went to walk toward your building, you stumbled slightly.

Okay, so maybe you did play more than one more round.

It was almost 2am as you entered the lobby, and you expected to hear Felix’s deep voice greet you. But instead, you heard one that made your heart skip a beat.

“_____,” Hyunjin stood from one of the chairs in the lobby and strolled over to you, a casual smile on his face. “You made it back okay.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, absolutely shocked that he waited up for you and stayed in the lobby to make sure you showed up. Nobody had ever done that for you – well, except for your grandmother when you would spend the nights at her house when you were in high school and she wanted to make sure you made it home safely, and sometimes Chan did.

“Are you still drunk?” he asked, seeming a little concerned as he slightly tilted his head to one side, eyes studying you.

He mostly asked because you were just standing there staring at him and not saying anything. In fact, you were staring at him like he was some famous person that had strolled in and taken you off-guard.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted in a mumble.

“Do you want some help to your room?” he offered.

A yawn escaped your lips as you nodded, and it hit you just how tired you really were. You kept yourself occupied with your phone on the train and in the taxi, yawning a little here and there since you weren’t surrounded by the excitement of your friends anymore. But knowing your bed was only a few floors away now, you were ready to pass out immediately.

“Need a hand, Hyunjin?” the familiar deep voice commented from by the counter.

“I think I’ve got her,” he replied, carefully sliding an arm around your waist and putting your arm around his shoulders, keeping his hand in yours. “Thanks, though, Lix.”

“‘Course! Have a good night, guys. _____, call down if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Felix,” you slurred slightly, glancing over at the counter to give him a lazy smile. “You’re the best.”

He grinned brightly with a wave as Hyunjin helped you to the elevators.

All you could think of was how good he smelled. Would it be weird to try to subtly nuzzle into him or would he notice? Could you even be sneaky like this? 

Being drunk typically gave you some sort of god-complex, but all of a sudden, you were basically back to being your shy, anxious self. 

‘I sobered up at least a little bit,’ you reminded yourself, ‘I’m just not drunk enough. ...I should’ve gotten drunker.’

Had Hyunjin been around you at your peak drunkenness, you probably would’ve been throwing him pickup lines left and right. 

“Was your trip home okay?” he asked as he pressed the button on the elevator with a slender finger.

“Yeah,” you yawned, trying to not let your head drop onto his shoulder. “Pretty boring, honestly.”

“How was hanging out with your friends?” he continued as the elevator doors slid open.

Honestly, you were fine to walk on your own – it might not have been in a perfect straight line, but you knew you wouldn’t fall on your face – but you continued to let Hyunjin think you couldn’t just because it was nice feeling a strong hand on your waist and his warm fingers wrapped around your hand. And also just leaning into him was nice. Everything about Hyunjin thinking you were far too drunk to function was nice.

And then if you did decide to be bold, you could pretend like you didn’t remember it tomorrow. It was a win/win!

“I didn’t win,” you pouted as you entered the elevator and Hyunjin pressed the button for the 8th floor. ��I’m not the best at chugging my drinks…or at driving…”

“Remind me to not get into a car with you, then,” he smirked, glancing at you with a teasing look.

You huffed back in his face, “Okay, real-life driving is not using a fucking controller and trying to drift on Rainbow Road.”

“It could be,” he shrugged, “if you try hard enough.”

“I think you’re the drunk one,” you stated, going so far as to reach up and press the tip of your index finger against the button of his nose.

His eyes closed as your finger touched him, and then he blinked a few times before laughing at you. And you stared at him in a way that clearly said ‘why the hell did I do that’, trying to process exactly why in the hell you did do that.

Then you stared straight forward, whispering to yourself but very much out loud, “What the fuck am I doing?”

“So, who’s the drunk one again?” he continued to laugh, and you could feel teasing eyes on you but you couldn’t look at him.

Maybe you wouldn’t look at him ever again after this.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy?” he chuckled, releasing your hand to put his fingers under your chin and guide you to look at him.

Doe eyes met his slender ones. You couldn’t tell what kind of emotion he was looking at you with. There were hints of a smirk on his face but there was still softness in his eyes.

‘Oh god, it’s happening.’

Your heart was hammering in your chest, bracing for whatever was going to happen next. If he was going to kiss you while you were drunk in an elevator, you at least hoped you didn’t also get trapped in the small space because that wouldn’t help you at all.

The elevator dinged softly.

His features broke into a sweet smile as he said, “You’re cute.”

As the doors slid open, Hyunjin dropped his hand to hold yours that you now realized was fisting the shoulder of his shirt because of your nerves. He guided you out of the elevator and walked you halfway down the hall to where your doors faced each other.

“Keys?” he asked.

“Ummm,” you hummed as you fished around in your bag with your free hand, your mind still reeling from whatever Hyunjin was doing to you in the elevator.

You finally found your keys with shaky hands, handing them to Hyunjin. He made sure you weren’t going to fall over if he let you go – you wouldn’t have before but now because of him, your knees felt like jelly – before he unlocked your door and pushed it open slightly for you. Then he handed you your keys back with a smile.

“I’m glad you made it home okay,” he told you.

“Thanks for making sure,” you mumbled, still finding it difficult to look him in the eye.

So all you saw was one foot step forward toward you. You didn’t see his hand come up to cup your cheek, or his head lean forward to press plush lips to your hairline, making your eyes squeeze closed as you felt your heart implode, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

“Have a good night, _____,” he murmured softly. Then he gently took your shoulders, turned you toward your door, and lightly pushed you inside because he knew you wouldn’t move your feet on your own. You could hear him chuckling at you as he added, “Don’t forget to drink lots of water.”

And then he closed the door.

And you stood in your kitchen/living area in the dark, feeling somehow more drunk than when you even left Chan’s.

[thoughts-world]

First before I say anything I have to shout out Evan who has been the most incredible father not only the past 7 weeks but also the 9 months prior. Evan literally changed both mine and amalias diapers in the hospital and there was a time where he was running between me, extremely sick in recovery post emergency surgery, and Amalia in the NICU,  receiving updates, giving comfort, all at 4 am.

 I have a memory of Evan and I in college before we started dating late one night intensely debating if god existed. If god existed what did he (or she) have power over? Should that mean we should be observant? Why did bad things happen? If he doesn’t exist what’s the point in religion?? What is life all for? We never reached a conclusion. 

I say all of this because we ended up choosing the name Amalia which means “gods work” or “work of god” and I think I can speak from both of us when I say after seeing the way Amalia came into this world, after spending 7 weeks with her perfect little nose and fingers. Seeing her smile in the bath, the way she curls up into us and holds onto my chest. Her expressive faces and her leg lifts, we have no doubt she is gods work. She is our work of god. 

Amalia (or as her cousins call her, baby Mali) is named for my mother, Melissa. For anyone who didn’t know my mother passed away 4 years ago at only 54 years old. My mother was so many things. Too many for me to be able to speak about in my allotted time. There’s so much of my mother that I want Amalia to have but I’ve decided to just highlight a few today.

I hope, just like your savta missy, Amalia, you always stands up for yourself. I hope you’re never quiet and always advocate for what you believe in even when it’s hard, even when it feels like no one is listening.

Just like your savta missy I hope you put family above all else. I hope your life is filled with Shabbat dinners with so many people you have to permanently have the leaf open in your dining room table. I hope you take the extra flight, even when you’re exhausted, even when it’s expensive,  for a family simcha, a chag with your best friends, a funeral for someone you’ve never met but meant the world to someone you love. 

Lastly, just like your savta missy I hope you know that just by being born, just by being you, you are you are apart of something much larger than yourself, you are apart of the jewish people. and no matter how you practice or where you go, you are apart of a resilient nation. One that even in times as dark as October 7th, finds light and repairs. 

Amalia, your abba and I love you so much. You are already our entire world. Our hearts existing and beating outside of us in human form. We can’t wait to see all the ways you honor and use your powerful name.

[catonatrain]

ok hello everyone i am back here to fight for oikawa and iwaizumi, who at the time of writing this, are losing horribly <3 but that is ok!! never give up until the end !! fight with everything you have !!

again id like to mention that they permanently changed my brain chemistry like nine years ago and hold a special place in my heart for growing up with me <3 i think everyone should consider checking out haikyuu because i truly believe the story only climbs and climbs

under the cut will be me talking a bit more about them!! its not everything of course, but it's what i have for now!! hope anyone who reads enjoys :D

this is the last post i wrote about them for this poll but for a tldr

theyre childhood friends who play volleyball together, and we never get to see how they met; they've just simply always been together according to the readers

they have immense trust in each other, with oikawa depending on iwaizumi in tough moments, which was something that helped our protagonists win a set against them!!

oikawa calls iwaizumi, "iwa-chan" and this nickname came before the author created iwa-chan's full name of "iwaizumi hajime" so he was iwa-chan first and foremost!!

firstly, i'd like to talk about some cool symbolism they have going on!!

oikawa is nicknamed "the grand king" -- he has a lot of king and commander imagery as seen here:

[Image ID: Manga panel of Oikawa in historic clothing leading several knights. The text bubble says: "He'll still command them with ease." End ID]

[Image ID: Chibis of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi is putting a volleyball to Oikawa's head. Oikawa is wearing a crown and is winking while sticking out his tongue. End ID]

in fact, his birthday is july 20th which is alexander the great’s birthday!!

now check this out, their birthdays are matching!! iwaizumi's birthday is june 10th, which is the day alexander the great died.

what humanizes a king? it's death... and its iwaizumi who grounds oikawa who has grand ambition...

now, one of the most prominent times where iwaizumi was there to ground oikawa was in their middle school days

in middle school, oikawa and iwaizumi, while a part of very strong volleyball teams, always found themselves unable to defeat ushijima wakatoshi and his team… it got to the point where oikawa became desperate to improve himself he, like many other haikyuu characters, work extremely hard towards their goals. they put so much focus, energy, time, and their heart and soul into their dreams

and he wanted to rise as high as he could… because after all, if he could never defeat ushijima and his team, he could never stand on the national stage… oikawa may be a formidable volleyball player, feared by many in his prefecture, but he’s rather unknown to the rest of japan

anyways, this time of oikawa’s life was described by iwaizumi as a time where he wasn’t smiling– this is especially because oikawa felt threatened by kageyama tobio, who people called and considered a genius setter (whether he is one is a whole other story)

despite being two years younger, he had incredible talents, and so oikawa found himself on edge, as sometimes he felt inferior to those he and other deemed as geniuses

he began to stay longer after practice, willing to overworking himself in order to improve his skills. of course, this desperation of oikawa worried iwaizumi immensely…

[ID Two panels with the top panel of Oikawa with a desperate expression saying “I can’t possibly win against Shiratorizawa the way I am now!” ; The bottom panel is a zoomed in expression of Iwaizumi who is angry. The speech bubble is still Oikawa saying “I want to win and go on to Nationals! In order to win, I have to–”]

here, iwaizumi recognized that oikawa was losing track of what it meant to play volleyball, as oikawa kept talking about the I’s and Me’s here and so what does he do? he reminds oikawa that in volleyball, it’s the team with the strongest six players win, not the strongest individual!! he reminds him of one of the fundamentals of volleyball… and what does oikawa say about it?

[ID panel of Oikawa saying “All of a sudden, I feel invincible”]

he feels invincible!!!

of course i could talk about them more, but for now, ill leave it here!! here is the final message for everyone, please watch/read haikyuu <3

thank you so much for your time reading or skimming or whatever!!

Poll: Round 2A

[Image ID. AN image of Sasha, Anne, and Marcy from Amphibia. They are in a park in daylight with green grass , a tree, a chained fence around it and some patches of dirt. In the center is a picnic table. Near the left of the image, near the end of the table, is Sasha. She has Light skin, blonde hair in a ponytail, and she is wearing a blue uniform shirt, a greenish blue jacket with the sleeves rolled up and a pink skirt, black heel shoes and longish white socks. She is holding a drink cup. She is leaning back in shock as she watches Marcy and Anne on the other side of the table. Marcy is falling off of the top of the table, where Anne is trying to catch her. Marcy has olive skin, short black hair with a green clip in it, and a panicked look on her face as she falls. She is wearing a green skirt and a blueish grey hoodie. She has brown shoes and long socks. Anne has light brown skin, and auburn hair. she is wearing a purple skirt and the same school uniform shirt as Sasha. She also looks panicked. And an image of Oikawa and Iwaizumi from the Haikyuu!! anime. Oikawa is on the right of the image. He has messy brown hair, light skin, and he is wearing a sports uniform which is white, with blue lines in it. He is holding up a peace sign, Be hide him in the left of the image, is Iwaizumi. His face is blocked by Oikawa's peace sign, but he has short dark brown hair, his skin tone is slightly darker then Oikawa's. He is wearing the same Uniform as Oikawa. Be hide them is a row of seats, where some people are sitting. End ID}

[classyinnie]

𝐎𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

content: Bokuto Kotaro x reader — fluff, (best) friends to lovers |  0.8k words

warnings: none.

notes: Excuse the low quality writing TT. Akaashi the real mvp in this one.

It was nearly impossible for Bokuto to realize he was in love with you. The idea too far-fetched as the ocean drying up or the implication of traveling back in time. Hardly anything could open his eyes to the fact that he was over the moon in love with you. It would have been a little better if it was one-sided, but the dilemma of the situation doubled when you were the exact same – Oblivious.

People around you would always comment on how you two were almost like a married couple, but the mere notion just confuses you because you’ve always labeled your relationship as close friends. Friends who live in each other's homes. Friends who held each other to sleep at night because they hate the thought of sleeping alone. Yeah…friends.

You would have ignored all of their comments if it hadn't been for what Akaashi once said, which was meant well but still managed to keep you pondering at night: "The man adores you. Anyone can tell just by the way he looks at you."

From then on, you can't help but notice the soft touches, sweet forehead kisses, and frequent visits, and give them meaning. Because you now understand what they mean when they say that friends don't behave the same way you do.

But that wasn't the wake-up call; what made you realize you love him was entering the kitchen one morning to find him cooking breakfast. It wasn’t supposed to surprise you or anything because he does it all the time. But something about this day, with the perfect view of him illuminated by the sunrise–almost glowing in the morning rays–made you realize that he does fit perfectly in your kitchen. Or more so, in your life. You can't imagine waking up one day without him by your side. Without his cheeky smile and "good mornings”.

You approached him without much thought, burying yourself at the back of his shirt, clearly startling the focused man. You can't help but hug him tighter; Afraid that if you let go, the pleasant reality you've been encased in will vanish.

“Good morning to you too, beautiful.” Bokuto chuckles.

The endearment should not have made your heart rate pick up as much, knowing it was nothing more than his usual endearments. And for the first time, it hurt you. Surely, it would have taken him nothing to spit it out, but it means everything to you now.

“You alright?” Your silence must have given him the impression that something was wrong.

You nod.

“You sure?“

“Of course, why would I not be alright?”

This time he doesn’t push further. “If you say so. Can you hand me some plates, please?”

You were running out of options as to coming clean. You're not sure why, but that disappointed you. Enough to blurt out the words. “I love you.” 

I’m not alright because I finally realized I’ve fallen for you! You wanted to shout.

Bokuto, with no hesitation, immediately replied, “I love you too.”

How do you persuade him that this isn't a figment of your supposed ‘platonic relationship’?

“No, Bokuto. Like I’m in love with you.”

He turns to you with a puzzled expression on his face, and says, "I know."

Bokuto has your face cradled in his hands before you can ask him what he means. The other wrapped around your waist. Taking you by surprise.

It was now your turn to be baffled. Hoping he's not playing with you. Knowing how this will turn out will either result in one of you fleeing or brushing it off as just what friends do. The former much more preferable.

"Me too," he whispers, leaning in close enough to make your knees weak. “I want you to be a permanent part of my life.”

That seemed to ground you because it appears improbable. The idea, just a few minutes ago, was nearing impossible. “What?” You take a step back. "When did you realize?"

“This morning, I had you wrapped in my arms and felt like I was sinking in this overwhelming feeling. I'm fairly certain it's love. There's no better way to put it." Bokuto says.

A slow smile spreads across your face. He continues, "... And I took a test yesterday to see if I was in love with my best friend. And all the results stated yes.”

Now you were in disbelief. Smacking Bokuto’s arm in exasperation, “You realized you loved me because of a test?”

Bokuto comically clutches his arm. Betrayal written all over his face. “Ow! Partly yes, but it’s all thanks to Akaashi. I told him about this song I discovered that reminded me of you. In return, he sent me those tests calling me an idiot.”

"Remind me to thank him then," you hum, drawing him back to you, apologizing for his “bruised” arm.

Come to think of it, the people surrounding you were right: you and Bokuto weren’t just friends but merely oblivious idiots in love.

[oh-katsuki]

author bakugou who writes in beautiful, sensitive prose. his words are like milk and honey, soft on the mind. his sentences don’t grate across the page but instead flow beautifully into your mind’s eye and he has a way of describing things that makes you able to experience it in full. 

so it’s shocking when you finally meet him. bakugou katsuki speaks and his voice is harsh. his words are brutal and crude and you find yourself wondering if this could be the same man who wrote all those lovely paragraphs that soothed some part of you. because the author bakugou katsuki is anything but soothing. 

you sit down with him in front of a white tarp, hung up in the background of your interview. you know his face will be blurred out on the film, so you’re privy to a special moment. his features are harsh, a sharp jaw and nose, hulking muscle, sharp crimson eyes, and a seemingly permanent scowl that doesn’t leave his face even when he laughs. it’s meant to be a routine interview, but you’re almost disheartened by the reality that is this author. people always say not to meet your heroes.

he is so unlike his work that it’s startling. you’d imagined someone gentle, with sloping features and a soft voice to match the one you read with. instead, you sit across from a man who looks like he belongs anywhere but behind those novels. bakugou katsuki is handsome, no doubt, but he’s abrasive. his personality is disagreeable and you can only imagine the impression he must have given as an immature young man. 

“how long is this gonna take?” he asks, leaning his cheek onto his fist. you don’t think he means to sound dismissive or upset, but he does. 

“only a few minutes.” you respond, putting on a smile as if that would help soothe this man’s nature. “it’s a short two minute segment, so you’ll be out of here in no time. though i do wish we had a bit more time, your work is really something.” 

bakugou nods and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. he glances sideways, like he can’t meet your gaze, before nodding his acknowledgement and you think for a moment that you can see the author of what you read in that nervous response. the one unaccustomed to praise for something not inherently given to him, but earned. 

“my face’ll be blurred out right? don’t need anyone fuckin’ recognizing me in the grocery store.” he grumbles, looking behind the camera to where the director stands beside his editor and publicist. they all nod and bakugou rests deeper into his seat. you wince at the curse. 

the interview goes smoothly, bakugou giving short and confident responses to most, if not all, of the questions. you wonder how this will translate to his readers. after all, it’s his first interview on camera. bakugou katsuki is much more gentle with a pen than he is spoken word, maybe that’s why his work is best read in the quiet comforts of home. 

finally, the last question is upon you both. it’s a heavier one, saving the hard-hitting questions for key parts of the two minute segment, and you’re eager to ask it. someone so different from his writing is bound to have a good answer for it. bakugou doesn’t disappoint. 

“finally, mr. bakugou, why do you write? is there some reason for your work or anything in particular that keeps you going?” you ask, the words tentative but hungry on your lips. 

at this, bakugou looks up and glances to his editor who gives a knowing nod. 

“to be seen.” it’s a simple answer. three words that sum up the stark contrast between his writing and the man who sits before you. 

“oh? could you elaborate on that a bit?” 

bakugou shifts again in his seat, rolling his eyes slightly. “m’not sure if i could in how much time we have left.” 

“don’t worry about that.” you comfort and he seems to respond to your words, glancing at you with crimson eyes before poising himself confidently in his seat. 

“fine. i’ve never been very good at, y’know, expressing myself.” the words sound uncomfortable on his lips. you’ve hit a nerve. “i’m not a fuckin’ idiot, y’know? i know how i come across.” 

they’ll have to edit that curse word out, but you don’t interrupt. you nod intently at him, setting down your notebook and just listening. 

“so instead i create worlds and stories. it’s pretty simple. my writing is an extension of myself. it’s just... the parts that i can’t share as easily.” he goes between looking at his hands, his editor, and you. “in writing and shit... you can get across points and feelings you couldn’t, y’know, speaking. so i write to be seen. that’s the best way i can describe it. i don’t wanna get fuckin’ sappy or anything on camera. if you wanna know more, you can read it.” 

at this, you chuckle. not a very eloquent speaker, is he? bakugou raises an eyebrow at you and you just shake your head, charmed by his answer. 

“that’s a great answer, thank you.” you smile. “and i can safely say that you’re seen in your work. it’s very distinctive. thank you for sharing it.” 

bakugou nods again and then looks to the director. “we done?” 

you hear the director yell cut and bakugou sighs heavily, standing up. 

“you had some good questions.” he walks over to you, though it’s not so much walking as it is stalking. bakugou is far more confident talking about other things than he is his writing. 

“thank you. i do it for a living.” you laugh. “i look forward to your next piece. it’s been a pleasure meeting you.” 

“yeah, you too.” and with that short statement, he leaves. bakugou walks to his editor who mumbles something, and then scowls at his publicist who has no doubt mentioned his prolific swearing throughout the interview. 

when you return home, you find yourself running your fingers along the worn spines of books on your bookshelf, picking up one of his from the scores of novels resting there. it’s a collection of short stories, each more lovely than the last, about nostalgia, a longing for a home you never had. as you read it, you think about the beautiful structure of his sentences, the way words flow like water in a steady stream. and in it, he is seen, just as he promised. 

bakugou katsuki as an author writes in beautiful and gentle prose. bakugou katsuki as a man speaks in swear words and harsh tones and he writes to be seen. he writes to express what his personality won’t let him, a part of himself you’re privy to only through typed words on a page. 

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Steven & Marc (2/4)

Word count ; 4.1k

Steven hunched over the sink, the communal museum bathroom completely deserted, all except for him and his other half. The water was running and he’d just splashed his face. He felt ridiculous; embarrassed; disappointed. He knew it would be a bad idea to ask her out. But he also knew it was better than wasting his time later. 

“You should stop moping now.” Steven looked into the mirror, to which Marc was staring back with an unsure expression.

“How can I?” Steven quickly replied. “I mean, I should’ve known better, but…” His heart fluttered with a foreign emotion. “Even though you made a complete fool of me, she was still absolutely stunning. Bloody hell, what a woman.”

Marc snickered, rather amused by how head over heels he was for the woman. “Stunning or not, you’ll get over her. It’s just one girl.”

“I suppose you’re right, but… That ‘one girl’ - absolutely perfect in every way, I’m sure of it. Hell, I wish that fiancé of her’s would just disappear from existence. Clearly, he’s the only reason she didn’t agree, you know.”

Marc sighed, placing his hand against the glass. “Honestly, man. Just let me have the body. You can go mourn in the abyss while I ensure that we’re being a productive, normal human being. How about it?”

Steven’s mouth went dry, and he leaned over to splash his face again before twisting the knob permanently. Even now, after being rejected, she was all he could think about. He wished there was a way to make it convenient for her to accept his feelings. Hell, he was vegan - although a bad one - and he’d take her to the fanciest steak restaurant in London if it meant even a single date with her.

Marc was still trying to get his attention, ranting loudly in the abandoned bathroom. But Steven paid him no heed. Marc was stubborn, but so was Steven. After all, they were torn from the exact same cloth, if you counted Steven technically being a former figment of Marc’s imagination. 

Steven finally raised his head again, making eye contact with Marc. Marc fell silent, realizing everything he’d just said had gone out one ear and out the other. Steven bit his lip before stating,” I’m sorry, Marc, but I don’t think I want to give the bird up just yet.”

Marc let out an exaggerated cry. “Oh, come on! What are you going to do, type up an essay about why she should throw away her serious relationship and cancel her wedding and elope with you instead? I hate to break it to you, man, but the movies lie. The girl doesn’t always choose the underdog.”

Steven shook his head. “No, I don’t mean that. Clearly the straightforward tactic didn’t work, Marc. Of course she wouldn’t go on a date with me, she barely knows me! She has to get to know me first. Then, slowly, I can convince her to leave her partner. I have to be her friend first! After all, she already said we could be.”

“It’s a little late for that, lover boy,” Marc argued, waving his hands dismissively. 

“Maybe. Or maybe not,” he said thoughtfully. “There was something that rubbed me the wrong way. About how she talked about her fiancé. Usually when you’re in love with someone, you wouldn’t be so reluctant to talk about him, yeah? She’s probably been sucked into a loveless marriage with some rich arsehole —“

“O-o-or she’s in a loving relationship and was just awkward. I did speak over her a bit.”

Steven sighed, rubbing his forehead. He sent Marc a determined glare. “Please, Marc. Let me do this one thing. But what I have in mind, though… It’s a little mad.”

“Oh no,” Marc muttered. 

“Oh, yes.” A coy smile arose to Steven’s face. “This fiancé of her’s is suspicious, see. I just know it. Bloody hell, if we can find some dirt on him and prove he’s not a good guy, I can swoop in and be her hero and friend and eventually, boyfriend.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Oh, boy. You’re serious, aren’t you? Steven, you don’t even know her last name. You don’t even know who her fiancé is! You barely know anything about her. How the hell are you going to find dirt on a guy who’s name you don’t even know?”

Steven, with one balled fist, hit his open palm as a ‘Eureka’ moment. He continued,” Well, I’ll tell you my idea. But you definitely aren’t going to like it.”

“Do go on. Enlighten me, pal.”

“I mean, you have to promise not to call me mad first.”

“Sure, but I might call you crazy.”

“Okay, okay, so hush. Significant others usually hang at each other’s flats, right? What I’m thinking is that we could follow Y/n until she meets the beloved fiancé —“

“Steven that’s called stalking —“

“Hush, hush. Listen, Marc. From there, we follow the fiancé home and find out his identity. Then we can look online and possibly inside his house —“

“No. No, no no! Steven, we are not committing crimes. That is breaking and entering!”

“Technically just entering.I don’t plan on breaking anything —“

“Steven! Steven. We aren’t doing that. We legally cannot do that. That is stalking and breaking and entering. I wish I could tell you to do whatever you want, but if you get thrown in jail, I’ll have to be there with you,” Marc angrily argued.

Steven’s mouth twitched and eventually formed a frown. He banged his fist on the marble counter, sufficiently shutting up Marc. Steven knew this would work. That fiancé was no good and he had to prove it. Just because he didn’t know the guy didn’t mean he wasn’t a villain. And, no, Steven definitely wasn’t falling onto the depths of despair over his crush.

Steven sighed filling the silence that had fallen over the bathroom. He finally replied,” …Listen. It’s for a good reason. And I promise that if you help me do this and the fiancé’s perfectly alright, I’ll let it go. But I just have this feeling! Isn’t it better to be safe just in case?”

Marc also sighed, leaning against the void behind him. He didn’t reply.

Steven was glad he was getting through to him. They were one of the same; that meant he’d eventually cave because Steven felt strongly about this. They’d been on opposite sides of the coin before, but Steven was known for being the more persuasive side.

“I swear it. If we don’t learn anything, we can pretend it never happened,” he coaxed. “Marc, I don’t want to fight you on this, but I will if I have to. I know with a strong conviction that something’s wrong about her fiancé and I need to find out what. For closure.”

Marc rubbed his temple, grumbling underneath his breath. Steven watched him expectantly, a grin growing on his knowing expression.

“…Fine. But if we end up in the slammer, I’m punching you in the face. Got it?”

~~~

“This is definitely stalking,” Marc muttered into his pocketed mirror. He had just transformed to normal, having gotten onto the roof of the fiancé. As conspicuous as a bright white cape and suit was, no such attention was drawn to them due to it being about three a.m. 

After a ruthless night of trailing after Y/n from the shadows - and locating her apartment, although it’s not like Marc was the one who wanted to know where it was -, they located the fiancé. Steen certainly thought that he wasn’t anything special. If anything, he looked rather uptight. The fiancé eventually left after several hours, and from there, they followed him back. They waited a few hours, and voila, it was time to strike.

They had already scouted the area, and Marc reluctantly agreed that the chimney was the best way to go. So, here they were.

“Consider it as an unsanctioned police search,” Steven chirped in response.

“You’re definitely crazy. You owe me big time.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s get on with it. We don’t have all night.”

Marc sighed, tucking the mirror into his jean’ back pocket. He trudged carefully over to the stone chimney. No smoke was coming out of it, so he could presume it wasn’t lit. He hated that he had to do this, but even if they were in the same body, Marc was naturally more athletic than his other half.

Marc was glad that Khonshu hadn’t spoken to them in a while. That meant they weren’t fucking everything up, even if they were breaking and entering. As terrifying as prison would be, it was preferable to Khonshu’s threats. He was a god, after all.

Marc lowered his body into the soot cavern. His legs dangled in the air, and the only thing preventing him from falling was his strong forearms. He grunted and turned until his feet were on one wall and he felt safe enough to lower his arms in. He almost screaming when he slid a bit, the wall tearing at his jacket, but he gulped it down.

Slowly but surely, he slid down the chimney. He had never been more relieved than when his behind made contact with a pile of wood and his legs dropped onto solid ground. Even with a twig up his ass, he was glad to have made it safely. 

He pulled the black face mask and hood on. His clothing was dark and gave him full coverage, just in case there were cameras.

His eyes flitted around the living room. The coast… seemed to be clear. He phased out, letting Steven take over.

When Steven came to, he immediately examined his surroundings. It was a quaint living room, but it was obvious that the man had funds due to the elegant nature of the furniture. He dusted off his pants as he silently rose to his feet. His limbs ached and his muscles flexed.

He decided that, while he was here he might as well raid the fridge. He weaved through the living room. Across the hall was the entrance to the kitchen, to the left the front door, and to the right a hallway that lead deeper into the house and the stairway. He checked for any cameras before scampering into the kitchen. He carefully opened it.

Bingo.

There was a bag of potato chips. Who in their right mind refrigerated potato chips?

He paid it a lot of mind, but took it anyways. He shut the fridge again before setting the snack on the counter. He’d come back for it later.

He rounded the corner and proceeded up the stairs. The trip was slow, because a few of the stairs creaked, and then he’d have to wait and listen. Still, the house was silent.

When he arrived on the second floor, He peered to his left and right. Each section was riddled with closed doors, so it was impossible to decipher where an office would be. He sighed silently, deciding to check the door at the end of the left hallway.

He pressed his ear to the doorway. He heard no snores and no movement. Slowly, he turned the knob and lacked open the door. 

He cringed when it squeaked loudly. He paused halfway, listening for any stirs, hoping that didn’t wake the sleeping man. He head nothing, and peered inside.

His heart dropped when he realized that he was inside, coddled up in his sheets. He hadn’t heard any snoring because the man was sleeping on his side; the one staring directly at the door. 

Steven froze, removing his hand from the door knob. He went through a bought of mental gymnastics, weighing the odds of wether to close the door again or leave it be as to not make more noise. Close the door or leave it be…

He decided to leave it be. He slunk away from it, pressing his body against the wall behind him. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, so. Such so that he wondered if it was audible to the sleeping stranger. He gulped down his terror. 

He already knew that Marc would not be happy with how things were going. A part of him wanted to scram, but he knew he was already in too deep. 

He veered his body back down the hallway and stopped in front of the opposite door. He was a little less careless this time, knowing that the fiancé wouldn’t be behind the door. This time, though, it didn’t release an croaks and opened with ease.

Jackpot. Inside was a tidy office that was more modern than the rest of the house. It had a clear desk and comfy spinning chair in the center. Lining the walls were bookcases, Beside the desks were some file cases. And in the middle of the desk was a sleek, expensive laptop.

Steven hissed out air through his nose, some of his anxiety washing away. He wished Marc could’ve done the dirty work for him instead, but he would’ve never agreed. He immediately surveyed the bookshelves, trying to find something incriminating. He even pulled some out of place in hopes a secret villain chamber opened up.

But it was in vain. Instead, he began opening the file cases. Each time he slid a drawer open, he cringed, as a loud, metallic squeak rolled across the room. 

He should’ve closed the office door behind him just to be safe.

He began searching through various papers. Contracts, reports, financial scans… nothing that didn’t seem legit. Damn it.

He plumped into the chair and opened the laptop.

Of course it was password protected. Why wouldn’t it be?

He suddenly heard a creak from down the hall. Instinctually, he slammed the laptop shut, immediately regretting his actions. He pushed the chair away and rose to his feet, heart pounding in his chest. His hands were trembling.

He was awake.

Footsteps thudded down the hallway. In fear of an unsolicited weapon, he made a mad dash to shut the door. Instead, though, he came face to face with a sleepy and equally terrified man.

“Who —“

Steven didn’t even have to think. He raised his fist and pummeled it into the man’s jaw. The man let out a shout of pain, tripping and falling onto the ground behind him. The man immediately tried to recuperate, but it was in vain, as Steven hopped to the side and kicked him in the stomach several times.

As fretful and as anti-violent as he was, in his head, the guy definitely deserved it.

The man kept grunting and rolled into the wall. Before Steven found himself in a complete frenzy, he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed. “Some ice will help with that.”

And with that, he made a mad dash for the stairs. He gripped the wall and swerved. Clumsily and thoughtlessly, he slipped the wood surface and fell down the flight of stairs on his rear end. He let out an ‘ouch’ for each step descended until he arrived at the bottom.

Hearing the man cry loudly for help, he knew he had to get the fuck out of dodge. Marc would be furious. 

So, Steven rushed out the front door, abandoning the refrigerated potato chips.

~~~

I tapped my fingers against the napkin, my gaze cast away from the man sitting across from me. Charles had taken a day off due to a break in last night, and too me to also take a day off so he could spend the morning with me planning. So far, I was relieved he was too busy with calls and messages from his phone, because it meant I didn’t have to bombarded with stupid decisions about what color the roses should be and what texture of table cloth worked best for the occasion.

My friends told her those sorts of things were necessary, and Charles said they were, too. But it was probably because I was brought up in a poor household and saw such things as trivial. Charles mistook it as cold feet, and when he thought something, it always took a lot of convincing to change his mind.

The outdoor cafe was nice, at least. There was an umbrella protecting us from the sun and the streets were crowded - but not too crowded - with window-shoppers. It was a beautiful day. 

I smiled gratefully to the waitress as she set our pastries down on the quaint table. Charles didn’t move a beat, eyes glued to his phone. Even with how purple and bandaged his face was, his movements were still robotic.

I took a bite into the pastry. It was sweet, and temporarily distracted me from my sour mood. Wasn’t a bride-to-be supposed to be happy to spend time with her fiancé? He took a day off, after all. It wasn’t for me because he was a busy man, so I felt guilty for not appreciating his presence. I couldn’t help but feel that if he warns’t here, I’d be quite happy and would enjoy the pastries without a care in the world.

But, then again, she would’ve been at work. Because today she had work. And he told her to take it off.

I jumped in my seat, surprised when he finally set the phone down. Its vibrations ceased, and his stony eyes moved to me. My fiancé, as much as I… loved him, was a cold man.

He clasped his hands together. “Is the bread up to your standards?”

I couldn’t help but feel like that was some sort of jab. I smiled anyways and nodded. 

He quirked a brow. “Good. So, have you reviewed the questionnaire document I sent about the wedding? I’d rather get married sooner rather than later. I can only take so many days off of work, after all.”

I nodded again. “Yeah… I sent it to my friends since they ca - er, they know more about fengshui than I do.”

“Are you kidding? It’s our wedding. I don’t give a shit about what your friends think,” he snipped, irritatedly grabbing a pastry and shoving it in his mouth. In between bites, he instructed,” just go over it now with me, since clearly you aren’t responsible to do it yourself.”

I bit my lip and did as asked. As annoyed as I was - although, I was usually annoyed with him to some degree. That was normal, right? -, I listened anyways, searching through my phone until I found the file. Even just glazing over the questionnaire, anxiety rumbled in my chest.

“Um…” I trailed off, not sure what to do.

He snatched the phone out of my hands. He quickly asked,” What color should the balcony lights be?”

“White, I guess?”

“How are you going to see them in broad daylight if they’re white? Are you planning to blind everyone?”

“Then… f/c.”

“…Okay. That works. But the rest of the decorations have to follow that color scheme as well… You know color theory, right — ?”

Suddenly, from down the street, a man I black with a suspiciously large bag came barreling down the street. Charles, noticing my shifted attention, peered over his shoulder. The man was about to pass us by, zipping by the plastic decorative fence, but he was suddenly tackled from above. I covered my eyes, a flash of white having descended into my peripheral.

Charles was quick to jump into action, rushing to my side and grabbing my arm. He pulled my away from the scene, but the crowd of people was still watching.

I identified the caped hero as Moon Knight. Also known as Steven slash Marc, my former coworker. I didn’t think I’d see him again so soon, especially in this context. I watched in awe as the man beat the everlasting crap out of the supposed thief.

~~~

Steven confidently huddled over the man, feigning violence. The actor, who he’d paid to pretend to be a robber, was letting out grunts of pain. He spotted some people taking videos. The actor and him made eye contact and winked. It was a signal to move onto the ‘scene.’

He grabbed him and tossed him into the outdoor cafe zone. The ‘money’ bag was left on the ground. The actor let out an authentic yelp of pain as he collided with the uncomfortable faux grass carpet. More of the onlookers gasped.

Steven jumped the fence with ease, crouching over the man, who had fake-passed out. Steven wiped his hands off on his suit, rising back to his feet. He’d always felt more confident; regardless, though, when he inevitably unsuited, he knew it would drain in her presence.

Steven had roped Marc into another shenanigan. This time, though, his other half had no choice. Steven would go through with this regardless. He hired the actor in advance, so no refunds were possible. And after Steven had spoken last night, Marc would be damned if he got caught because Steven had a crush on a girl.

Steven stepped away from the criminal. His suit extinguished, and as it did so, he let Marc take over. Marc blinked, still aggravated from how much Steven screwed him over. However, he forced a smile and raised his hands. 

“Crisis averted! Everyone can go back to what they were doing now!” he called.

Some people grabbed their stuff and left, while others sat back down. Marc made eye contact with Y/n, who’s fiancé was fed up with the cafe already and pulled her over to collect her things. Y/n looked away, though.

Marc mentally steeled himself for what he had to do. If this would get Steven off his back about wooing the girl, he had to do it. He put on as charming as a grin as he could and sauntered over to the couple. He could tell Y/n was shitting herself.

“Y/n! Didn’t think we’d run into each other so soon.” The blonde-hair, blue-eyed fiancé paled immediately, and it inflated the man’s ego. “So, is this the lucky man you were telling me about?”

Y/n meekly raised her hand and waved, grabbing her former seat tightly with the other. “Uh, hey, Marc. Yeah, this is Charles. Charles, this is Marc. We… used to work together.”

So, his name was Charles. Marc made a mental note of that - for Steven’s sake, obviously. 

The man nodded stoically, suspiciously eyeing his girlfriend. “Right… nice to meet you, Marc.” He held out hiss hand for him to shake.

Marc took it, taking note of how stiff and cold Charles was. He supposed that opposites really did attract if such a sweet, shy girl was interested in this buffoon. Sure, he was rich, but what else to his was there? He quickly shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing the high grip he had on her fiancé’s hand.

“We were just going,” Charles remarked, grabbing Y/n’s wrist tightly. But before they could shove past, Marc slyly replied,” Oh, wait, Y/n. I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

Charles halted, and Y/n seemed like she was shaking in her boots. Why? She’d done nothing wrong, so why was she so terrified? Suspicion coursed through his veins.

“And what happened yesterday?” Charles questioned, turning back to the man as his gaze flitted between Marc and Y/n.

Y/n shook both her head and hands dismissively. "I - it’s nothing, really. And it’s fine, Marc.” Charles visibly squeezed Y/n’s shoulder tightly, and Marc glared at his hold. “Marc accidentally ran into me while I was leaving work yesterday and spilled his coffee on my blouse. That’s all.”

“Your shirt seemed fine when I came over for dinner. Why didn’t you mention it?” Charles grilled further, glare boring into the poor woman.

“Because it was nothing. I just hand-washed and hung it up to dry before you arrived.”

Charles paused, but released his grip. “Oh. Okay.”

Y/n was caught off guard as he thanked her hand and they were off. Y/n could do nothing but wave to the man from over her shoulder as they disappeared into the cafe to pay.

Marc couldn’t help but feel like Steven was right. After seeing how Charles was, something was definitely off about the guy. And, even though Marc wanted nothing more than to leave it, he couldn’t help but feel a dedication to the woman. Steven was obsessed with her, so naturally, a part of him was, too.

He hopped over the face and began walking down the street. He pulled out his small mirror. Steven looked back at him with anticipation. “I guess you were right about him.”

“See? I told you,” Steven chirped excitedly, placing his hand against the glass.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right, I was wrong. Whatever. What matters now is we have to figure out what that guy’s up to.”

@slutalexis46

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

angel wings- g.satoru

synopsis: you ask gojo to tattoo you.

warnings: mentions of sa. mentions of sa tattoos. childhood trauma. mature themes. mentions of groping and unwanted advances (18+)

a/n: a part of me didn't want to post this and wants to delete this while another part of me sees this as something that has to be mentioned. I have no idea where this surfaced, but I want everyone to know that I admire you for being here. sa is not a joke and should never be treated lightly. if you know anyone or you yourself struggle with sa, please reach out to anyone- whether it be me, a friend, a counselor, or a trusted individual, I encourage you not to internalize your emotions for they are valid.

"I want to get a tattoo, gojo." you speak, slowly aware that the path you chose meant a change in your relationship. "and I want you to do it for me."

"really?"

"yes," you breathe, in hopes of composing any shaky speech, "I uh... I did some research and I saw how much people use medusa as an exam-"

"we don't have to talk here," he says, motioning to the back, "we can talk in my room if you want."

"okay."

this was it, you think, following his larger frame from behind. gojo was everything but energetic right now, you noted. his footsteps were gentle, breathing serene, and his movements were graceful. the dress shirt he always liked to wear was rolled up, covered by a black apron. one he always wore by custom as it was -according to him- his lucky 'cloak'.

you met gojo during your sophomore year of college, an art class you thought he was too advanced for. the professor, though disliking his character, couldn't say anything about his art. it was beautiful, detailed, profound, and striking.

they're looking at you, you whisper to him smugly during a group project full of girls. they want you to draw them.

I won't draw someone because they ask, he whispers, I only draw from inspiration. right now, your hands are more inspiring than their faces.

you look down, seeing your hand hold a pencil as a sketchpad rests against your thighs.

you're only saying that because you want me to do your part of the project.

oh right, he smiles teasingly, that was my plan all along. befriending you to get my work done.

a cleared throat pulls you from your memories, gojo leans against a wall, "okay, now you can tell me."

"r-right. I was wondering if you could do a tattoo. I did some research on what I'd like... but a medusa tattoo is too obvious..." his silence remains as he encourages you to continue, "I was thinking some flowers, maybe a ladybug... just something that symbolizes moving on." you pause, "are you still doing those temporary tattoos?"

"still am," he replies factually, "they last about a few weeks to a few months."

"that's good," you sigh in relief, "I didn't want something permanent. sounds perfect."

gojo seems to show no exterior expressions, his facial structure remains the same; serious. and you can't tell what his eyes are thinking under the covers over them.

"I could give you some wings..." he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear. "let me get my sketchbook..." he pulled you to his artist desk, offering you his chair before he sketched the details. and you were surprised to find that this was just what you wanted.

"how does your inner ankle sound?" he asks, biting the tip of his pen between his teeth, "we could try your forearm too, but if you want something private then your ankle would be-"

"that's perfect," you nod, "do you have any appointments for next week?"

"I was actually hoping you could stay and I could finish it by tonight..."

"but aren't you full like two weeks in advance?"

"only when I want them to," he smiles, "I have some hours open for drawing or for walk-ins. I like it that way."

"okay... so do you want me to sit?"

"yeah," gojo points with his pen, "you can sit on the chair. I'll elevate the chair so that your ankles are at a good level, is that okay?"

"yeah."

I can't believe we finished that assignment in one go, you breathed as you lay on your friend's couch that same day. the clock across from you read 3:03am.

yeah, but it was us who did most of the work. gojo frowned. all those girls did was stand there and look pretty.

you forced a chuckle, yeah but don't you need pretty? artists need muses too, you know.

he shrugs, not always. sometimes... what we need is practicality, order, and stability.

then... you didn't find that today?

of course, I did, he said, I found that and much more.

oh yeah? like what?

like... you, for example. if it weren't for you, I probably would have quit already.

that doesn't sound too convincing...

he laughs at something you can't understand.

you never know, do you? he grins, but that's okay. it's getting late. do you want to stay the night? I think it's too late for you to be driving at this hour...

I wouldn't want to impose, you say, I'm sure you have to wake early for tomorrow.

nah, he grins, I can sleep in. if you want, you can take my bed.

there's no way I'm doing that to you.

come on, he nudges, it's just a bed.

your, bed. you enunciate, I'm not doing that to you.

it's just a bed, he casually rolls his shoulders, or are we gonna discuss till dawn? I'd rather be sleeping already.

alright, you fail to hold back a yawn, but I'm sleeping on the sofa.

don't be ridiculous, he says, sleep on my bed. it's clean if that's what you're worried about.

I never... you lose your words, I didn't mean to-

-it's fine, he smiles, now, can you go to bed? man needs his beauty sleep.

fine.

I've got some pj's if you want, he says, suddenly getting up. I've got some basketball shorts and a tee that'll fit, if you want.

satoru, you say his name for what seems like the first time, I'm not doing that to you-

-I'm just being a good host. come on, will you let me be one? I hardly have people over. come on, please?

you finally accept. for the remainder of the night you sleep in gojo's borrowed clothes, and his bed. meanwhile unbeknownst to you, satoru happily snores from the comfort of his own couch. a warm satisfaction swirls in his stomach; knowing that you were sleeping in the best place of the house.

"is there any reason for the tattoo?" he asks you, holding the pen in his hand, "you don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

"I..." you struggle to find air, "I wanted something to commemorate my freedom..." you watch as satoru takes a glance at you before he arranges his ink cart. "I didn't have the most ideal childhood..."

"so it's a childhood tattoo?" he asks.

"kinda, well, if you consider my childhood a childhood- which I don't think was." you sigh, hoping to not get too gloomy, "you remember in grade school when all the kids used to have their parents bring snacks for school parties?"

"yeah,"

"my parents were never like that," you shrugged, "maybe it wasn't a priority... I don't know for sure, but as a kid... all you care about are those small things, you know? game nights, camping, and field trips..."

"then..." he asks softly, "where do the wings come in?"

"my home life was never harmonious, surprisingly. I always felt like I was walking on eggshells with everyone that... I didn't know who I was. you don't really focus on your identity when you've got a lot of yelling going on in the house..."

"was there anything physical?" he asks, worry laced in his tone.

"not really," you swallow the lump in your throat. unsure if it's because of the needle approaching your skin or the explanation you were about to give.

"did he ever hit you?" he asks, "your dad?"

"stepdad," you correct.

"same thing if it's a dad," he says, "they're meant to protect, are they not?"

you don't meet his eyes after a moment of silence. he calls your name gently, and you feel shivers run down your spine.

"he wasn't... really a dad." you speak, evidently unsure on how to word your next sentences, "he would...um, as a child... he'd do things in my room. I never really told anyone, because- how could I? we were financially dependent on him. if I told my mom, then we'd probably be on the streets, and I worried about not going to school anymore."

"so you let him."

"yes and no," you want to smack yourself for your answer, "I um... he'd do it most of the time... when I was asleep. so it's not like I hardly noticed anything." a dry laugh erupts from your chest, "but when you're 16 and obviously grown... things escalate further. stares last longer, hands in the kitchen sink lower, and pats on your back end up fixing your bra strap..." you shake your head, smiling to fight off tears.

"I uh... I'm glad I'm gone though. I promised myself, once I get out- I'd celebrate. I'd do something great. I'd get a tattoo against their wishes to commemorate my freedom." you laugh, "and here I am."

when you look down to gojo's frame, you notice how the ink has barely touched your skin. his pen, floats above your ankle, and his eyes are piercing the skin of your ankle. processing things.

"I probably shouldn't have said all that," you frown, hoping your apologetic smile would be enough, "I'm sorry."

"what..." he chokes, "what are you apologizing for?"

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..."

"I'm not uncomfortable..."

"oh?"

"I'm..." he bites his tongue, "I'm distraught... how could you live like that?"

"you get kinda used to it, really-"

"-that's not something someone has to get used to," he replies, "especially not a child."

"but I'm okay now," you smile in hope, reaching his jaw to look at you, "still conflicted at times, but I'm mostly okay."

his eyes won't meet you. "satoru," you call, grabbing his forearm gently.

your friend puts his pen down before turning to look at you. and slowly, you find yourself loosing composure.

satoru's eyes are watery, eyes pink, and the color of his face is not the same luminous color you have known. his hands slide right below your knees, but you don't pay attention to his hands, you frown when you meet his eyes.

"why are you crying?"

"you don't deserve this," he croaks, hot tears run down his face. "I... your childhood was taken from you."

"I know," you whisper, allowing hot tears to stream across your cheeks, "but I'm done, I survived. I don't have to live through that again. and now... I'm lucky to live the life I want for myself." your thumbs reach to wipe down his tears from his beautiful eyes, "I've met the people I want in my life. people I care about, people who make me smile everyday." you grin.

"that's why I love spending time with you. you always find a way to make me smile."

gojo feels his head spin. his skin feels warm, and all he wants to do is close his eyes, but when you're in front of him wearing a smile, he wants to be the stronger one. wants to be the one you tell him things. so he grabs your hands.

"thank you for telling me this." his eyes meet yours, "I had no idea what you were going through... I... I understand why you wanted to do this so badly now.'' gojo fails to see the frown on your face when he lets your hands go, but rather focuses on the new drive pumping through his blood encouraging him to finish this piece. he wants to do this.

the both of you rarely speak a word except for gojo's, tell me if it hurts, when his needle inks your skin. he stops once when you hiss, and proceeds when you nod in approval.

the wings themselves are relatively small. they almost look like a doodle, small enough for only you to see. your secret that no one besides you, and now gojo, will know.

you don't ask him to keep your story a secret because you know he will. gojo is a reliable friend, unbeknownst to all. he respects your privacy and understands the seriousness of the subject never to bring again casually.

as he makes final touches to your tattoo you realize that you hold no regrets, your chest feels lighter, and the air in the room feels cleaner. as if an invisible barrier had been broken.

placing his pen down, gojo sighs, in relief. turning to you with a look you can equally identify as the feeling in your chest. he smiles.

"you're free, angel."

[harcove]

hiiiii! <33 i dont know if you are taking any requests but can you write a leon x reader in which the reader gets bitten? (i love drama lmaoo)

love uuuuuu<3333

Okay so I do have like a bunch of other stuff to finish in my inbox, but I tend to not do things in order of when I get them, I do them in the order of whatever I get done first (since I start them all whenever I get them and work on them over time) and whatever I'm getting the most inspiration for at the moment, and this baby right here: chefs kiss right now. I LOVE angst so much, it is my favourite thing to write.

Also I'm always open for requests! It's just a matter of when they get done, since like I said above, and also my final year of uni just started so oof. ALSO: Decided to do RE2 Leon oop... I hope that's okay!

I LOVE YOU TOO! Here you go bb,

Warnings: angst, blood/gore, injury, character death

Length: 2.8k (I- oop.)

Request: in the ask!

RE2 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not you.

Your hand squeezed your thigh with as much strength as you could muster. It wasn't that it was hurting too much yet, you were still running off the shock and adrenaline from the events moments before that the pain hadn't yet settled. Dark blood oozed between your shaking fingers and coated your hand like you had just decided to dip your hand into a bucket of red paint. It was hardly sanitary considering the situation you were in, dirty and sweaty, having been going through the sewers earlier.

The undead man who had done the deed lay a few feet away with your survival knife Leon had given you stuck in his temple. You could see your own blood and flesh on his face, in his mouth. It was unnerving, and you usually wouldn't have noticed such a detail, except that it was your skin. Your blood. Your body.

You inched yourself towards the corpse and used the tip of your foot to make sure it wasn't still going to get back up. When it did nothing after a few pushes, you deemed it safe enough to take your knife back. With a few hard tugs, it dislodged itself with a squelch and you fell back against the wall behind you, exhausted.

The sudden sharp pain that run up your leg into your spine and made you arch your back for a moment as you stopped breathing forced you to pay attention to the wound on your leg. Hesitantly, you moved your shaking fingers away from the bite on your leg to take a peak.

There wasn't really a point to looking at it, you realized moments after you laid eyes on it. It wasn't going to fix anything, and there was nothing for you to assess. A bite was a bite, and you knew what it meant. Leon and you had seen what happened to Marvin. You yourself had seen a friend turn after being bit before you had gone to the RPD. So you knew.

The skin near the bite was incredibly hot to the touch, and even without touching it, you could feel the heat coming off your skin. Your jeans sported a hole where the bite was and you wondered if there was anything in your bag to cover it with. It was ugly to look at, and scary.

You let out of deep sigh as you closed your eyes. There wasn't much you could do but sit there. Leon was somewhere inside the NEST, and you were at the entrance. You weren't sure if you wanted Leon to find you dead or alive, but all you knew was that this was not something you nor him could fix.

It felt like hours had passed when Leon had shown up. But in reality, it had only been about half of an hour. Whatever was in the bite, whatever the virus really was, had done a number on you as you felt sweat bead at your forehead and slowly trickle down the side of your face. The furrow in your brow from the pain almost felt like it was permanent.

"Y/N!" He called out when he spotted you. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure. The way his shirt had been ripped on the sleeves, and the bandage you could see just beneath his shirt and RPD vest. He was caked in blood, sweat, and dirt too.

And yet he was a welcome sight for your tired eyes.

He quickly slid onto his knees and if you weren't in so much pain yourself, you would've winced at how harshly he landed on the hard floor, but it didn't seem like he was affected by it.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said breathily; he reminded you of a little puppy, and it made you want to squeeze him close to you, "what happened, what-"

Your hand squeezed your leg unconsciously and he looked down when you did so, his beautiful blue eyes resting on your bloodied hand and whatever you were covering up. His eyes looked back up to you almost hesitantly, asking to look. When a half-smile was your only response, he looked back down and focused on your leg.

His hands gently pried your fingers off your leg and he carefully let your hand go on your lap, giving them a squeeze.

"I'm..." he seemed at a loss for words, you would've been too, "I have to... Cut this away to see it better, okay? It's..."

Carefully he used his own survival knife to cut away at the pieces of your jeans, which were dyed deep red around the wound, so he could see it better. Your hand came up to his shoulder as he did so, peeling the bloody fabric away from it as much as he could without hurting you, and you squeezed his shoulder so tightly, fighting the urge to scream in pain. But he didn't seem to notice, or care, about the harsh grip you had on his shoulder.

"Oh. God..." it was said softly, almost as if he had no air left inside him to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's really ugly, I know," you tried to make the situation less dire, but it didn't seem to work, because Leon just looked at you with his big eyes, full of so many negative emotions.

"It's not..." even Leon didn't know what he was doing to say as he trailed off. He began searching through his pockets till he came up with a bottle of antiseptic that looked half empty.

"It's gonna be okay," he finally spoke again as he started to open the bottle, but your hand reached up and seized his own holding the open bottle above your leg.

"Don't use that," you pushed it closer to him and further from your leg, "you can't afford to waste that."

"I'm not wasting it."

You hadn't heard him sound so sure of his words, so... Angry. You hadn't known the boy long, but that was the first time you'd seen him react that way to anything. It made your push your lips together in a thin line, but you kept your hand on him, stopping him from using the antiseptic.

"I'm pretty sure we both know how this ends," you prompted slowly, "I don't think an antiseptic is going to fix it."

"The vaccine is here somewhere, it has to be," he stated firmly, "we just need to find it. It's going to be okay."

It wasn't that you didn't trust him, or that you didn't believe him. But how long was it going to take to find a vaccine? And how did you truly know you were going to find one? You didn't even know if it would work.

You didn't have much say when Leon moved to put your arm over his shoulder, and looked at you, counting to three before he helped you off the ground.

It worked initially: you had managed to stand up with the help of the rookie cop beside you, who kicked the zombie that had done the deed further from you two when you had gotten up. But it didn't last long, as pain shot through your leg and seemed to spread through your entire body. You could barely keep yourself upright even with his help, your body felt too weak to even function.

"Leon, I can't," you cried, falling back against the wall, "I can't."

"Damnit," Leon cursed under his breath, looking around him urgently before he left you against the wall to open a door across from the two of you.

He was missing for less than a minute when he came back out from the room and quickly came back to you. One of his arms reached under your legs while the other went to your back.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

Ever the gentleman, even when you were definitely dying.

"My hero," you smiled softly but it came out as more of a grimace as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

You supposed training to be a police officer meant he wouldn't have trouble carrying fully grown human beings.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. There was a bed right across from the door, and a desk close to the door. Someone must've used this room as not just a study but a place to sleep. Like a bedroom.

Leon gently placed you on the bed in the room, being careful on how he placed you, and never taking his focus away from your leg.

"Okay," he breathed out pulling back, "I'm going to go find the vaccine. And then we're going to get out of here. Together."

It was a wonderful thought. It was the dream, right? For everything to be okay, for you to be fine, and for the two of you to get out of Raccoon city and away from this mess. Together.

And yet you knew it wasn't going to happen, you knew you weren't getting out of there. You knew you were dead. And it was a scary thought to have to face alone because you wanted so badly to live. To live with him.

He would've been out that door had you not reached your hand out and grabbed his hand as best you could, squeezing it as hard as you could.

"Don't," your voice cracked as you swallowed hard, the ache in your chest only growing when his pained expression met yours, "don't leave me. Leon..."

"But I need to..."

It was blatantly obvious to not only yourself but also to him that there wasn't anything he could do. Not anything he could do in time for you. He didn't even know what he'd be looking for exactly, but he'd go find it if he could. He'd do anything to help you. To save you, and keep you near, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was a cold hard truth, and one he so desperately wanted to avoid.

But he couldn't.

Not when he looked at you, and really looked. Not just second glances over your form and your leg that lasted seconds as his blue eyes frantically moved like they were trying to find something they couldn't. No, when he really stopped and stared at you, he couldn't avoid it.

Your skin was ashen and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your eyes somehow looked like they had sunken in a bit, and looked dull compared to what they usually looked like. The way you breathed was alarming, it was shallow and sounded tiring, and then some moments it would speed up only to slow down moments later. You were in pain, and you were hardly there anymore.

"Y/N..." Leon's voice cracked, and you never thought you were going to see him cry. He held your hand back tightly and noted your fingertips felt cooler, "This isn't happening. Not to you."

"I should've paid more attention..." you said softly, "I don't... I don't want to die."

"I should've been here, I should've..." he exhaled through his nose, "damnit!"

"I'm not letting you blame yourself," you sternly interrupted him and squeezed his hand as best as you could, "not now. Not ever. None of this is your fault..."

Leon said nothing as he took to the ground beside the bed, kneeling right beside you. His face was close to your own as he leaned forward, his hand still holding your own tightly, which he brought up to your chest where your intertwined hands sat.

"Just..." you knew what you wanted to say but you didn't want to make the hurt worse, "just... promise you won't forget about me? And promise... Promise you're going to get out of here. Alive."

"I could never forget you," he said hurriedly as if he was offended you would have even thought he could forget you, "even if I wanted to, I could never..."

There was something there, between the two of you, that was trying to lay itself bare, but something was stopping it. There was something unsaid, simple words that were hard to say and had so much meaning, so much weight. But neither of you could say it.

If you did, not only would it be the first time, but also, the last time.

With your remaining strength you slipped a ring off your finger; it was an old thing, something that you had for a while and you didn't even remember why you got it or where you got it, but you always wore it just because. It had no sentimental meaning, but now it did as you pushed it into his hands. The look of confusion on his pained face made you smile slightly.

"So you always have a piece of me," you said, "and if you ever try to pawn that off I will come back and find you, Kennedy..."

His eyes trained themselves of the silver ring in his hands, it was so plain, just a band. But it was yours. It was you. It was all he could keep of you, he realized because this wasn't going to end with your life. Pocketing the ring, he took your hand again.

"I might just sell it then if you show up," he tried to make you smile, which it worked, but he also felt the need to reassure you, "I won't get rid of it. Ever."

"Good to know," you let go of his hand again and pulled out the gun in the holster that he had found for you in the station, inside was a round of ammo that you wouldn't need. Pulling out the ammo, save for one of the bullets, you gave him the rounds.

"What? What are you-"

"I'm not... Going to need this," you said, slightly out of breath from the pain you were in, "and I know they fit Matilda. But I'm keeping the gun, and one of the bullets."

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant by your final sentence and he frantically began to protest.

"Hey, wait, no," he shook his head, "no. I can... You don't have to... Let me."

It was the idea that you would have to shoot yourself that made him uncomfortable. The idea that you would need to take your own life upset him. But if you didn't want to turn into one of them, he would do it for you. He would... He...

"We both know you can't," you justified, "and I don't want you to. I could never ask you to. So, you go. You leave Leon, and you find that virus. You get out of here, and you live. You don't do anything stupid or reckless, and you make these bastards pay."

You were adamant, and you left absolutely no room for argument. Even if he wanted to argue, he couldn't. And he wanted to argue. But denial would get him killed, and you wanted him to live. And some part of him wanted to live for you.

"Alright," his voice didn't waver this time as he spoke, "Alright."

He placed his head against yours for a moment when he stood up and squeezed your hand a little tighter in his own when he grabbed it again. Softly, you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and ushered him to leave. It felt like he was walking on hot coals the whole time as he walked out the door, he regretted it when he looked back at you at the door, like he was waiting for you to get up and go with him. It just made closing the door behind him a lot harder.

He hadn't really been keeping watch of the time since he arrived in the RPD. He didn't really realize how fast or how slow time was going. But at that moment, outside that door, he really felt the way time flowed. It was impossibly slow, agonizingly so, and it was deadly quiet. Something that happened in only moments felt like it had taken an eternity.

He was used to the sound of a gun by now. It didn't make him flinch anymore. But this time it did. It made his stomach clench and his jaw tighten, his body stiffens. He hated how it sounded more than he ever had before.

The piece of metal in his pocket weighed heavy as he ghosted his hand over it.

Leon was going to find who did this. He was going to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. But most of all, he was going to make them pay.

[flashflames]

tamedflame:

“what do you mean, you ‘should have lost’ ?” the question hangs in the air like a bruised cloud. what she says next also gives him pause: i thought you didn't want anything to do with me anymore. his lips settle into a slight frown at those words, and he squashes the urge to immediately tell her that she has it all wrong. but the truth is something that cannot be so succinctly expressed; and in the years that they had not spoken, it’s grown to the point that he can hardly get his jaws around it all. chanyul does not know how he feels about her, not completely, nor does he know where to begin in articulating his thoughts. what he did know, in that heartbeat of a moment between winning and losing, was that the thought of closing the door on them — whatever they might mean to each other — felt impermissibly permanent. “keran—“ he wants to find the right words to tell keran that he has only ever wanted to understand her, that despite their immaturity in their youth, he had seen her as a partner in later years. that when he saw their future laid out for them, piece by piece, at some point, it stopped being something that he dreaded. he thinks of the gifts they had exchanged, even those earlier ones that were still painstakingly chosen by his hand even if they were placed in her soft palms with an unimpressed pout on his small features, her rare smiles that gradually became more common as the years passed. it wasn’t love; or, at least it wasn’t the kind of love he’d seen between his mothers, the kind that he would have wanted for himself. but keran was important to him. admittedly, chanyul knows it was the thought that it could have all been solely on his end that burned in his chest. the humiliating, terrifying possibility that he could have been the only one happy to shoulder the weight of these feelings, their responsibility to each other, when keran was more than willing to rid herself of them when given the first opportunity. it wasn’t love, certainly not the kind performed in plays or written about in songs, but it was something. he will never be able to verbally express what it meant to him. so, he won’t try. they're already close enough that chanyul hardly needs to move. he tilts forward, his lips easily finding keran's, as though guided by magnetic attraction. he pulls away slowly, not really wanting to, but he can’t risk more than this. chanyul already regrets his actions. he kissed keran without asking. while she was in distress and desiring nothing more than answers from him, no less. he should’ve had better self-control. used his words. and now he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes, expecting keran to be staring at him, confused and perhaps revolted.

they were ten and eleven when they agreed that love should not have felt so underwhelming, even with a meeting of their lips. the fleeting warmth outweighed by the shudders they took in their childish understanding of love, wiping her lips away and running to tattle to aera about the foreign sensation. it's been more than a decade since then, and this time it feels like she's kissed a stinging nettle, sweet despite the sharp burn of it, all of her breath stolen from her now.

he'd asked her a question, but keran doesn't have a good answer for it—or any answer, fleeing from her mind with the function of her lungs. she just hadn't meant to win. the same way she hadn't meant to leave, except for a breath of fresh air one night, and that had turned into the full cycle of a moon and more, into a revolution of their nation around the sun. it wasn't chanyul she thought she was leaving behind. there was no version of her future without his laughter sticking to his teeth, or the frown she learnt he made specifically in her presence. he's just always been there, ever present in the corner of her mind. in a box marked for them to open up into a home one day, even when she lived in the urban centre, and when she returned, unaware that their engagement had been recalled. even now, as he kisses her, still tangled up in their past, and their lost future.

how is she supposed to say all of that? it feels easier, almost like an escape to follow down the path he's already shown her once. she presses her lips to his once more in lieu of an explanation, as if what comes out may replace her words. the way her lips shape around his, forming an i missed you, or i'm sorry. it isn't long enough to keep count of all of the things she hadn't thought to say, but keran's grip over his collar loosens when she finally pulls away.

"i will—" she takes a breath, run out of air from what she's just dared to do. a single breath doesn't help to collect herself at all, when her heart is demanding the rest of it. "i'll see you at the tournament," she says quickly, standing up over him. "or another time." she feels, suddenly, quite foolish. an overconfident komodo rhino cub who's just discovered a bigger animal than itself exists, the looming size of what she's feeling taking her by surprise.

but keran doesn't shy away from a challenge, or the mounting confusion of what beats steadily. if it's big, she's determined to simply be bigger. "you lost, so you have to hear me out. next– next time." she's not beating a retreat. just—turning back to form a plan. she meets his eyes, insistent and waiting, and the faintest tinge of hope that sparkles in the sun.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Kilgharrah: “Kill that child, Merlin.”

Merlin (like a normal person): “No?? What the fuck???”

And with that, everything changed.

Part 2   Part 3(final part)

“You must let the boy die.”

Kilgharrah’s voice echoed incessantly through Merlin’s head for days after the Druid boy’s appearance, and subsequent disappearance. 

Merlin had, of course, ignored the scaly old bastard, and hadn’t once questioned if he’d done the right thing by hiding Mordred away in his tiny bedroom.

If the boy truly had such a terrible destiny, then the best thing for Merlin to do was to keep him close, if not to steer him away from his fate, then to at least be able to see it coming if it was indeed inevitable.

Currently, Morgana was the only one aware that Mordred was still here (other than Gaius of course, who was somehow disapproving and proud at the same time). As far as everyone else was concerned, Arthur and Uther included, the boy was never found, and must have slipped out of the city somehow (going by the extra patrols in the woods, as opposed to the castle and town).

The Warlock was nervous about anyone knowing at first, but when Morgana had tearfully thanked him for saving Mordred, and proceeded to sneak in spare blankets, food, and money for clothes, Merlin was glad for the co-conspirator.

The boy was currently curled up in the corner of Merlin’s room, a pile of blankets and pillows organised like a bird’s nest around him, wearing a soft shirt and sleeping the night away.

Merlin watched him from his bed, realising with growing horror just how protective of Mordred he had already become. He was so young. How could Merlin even consider punishing a child for some stupid destiny he didn’t even know about?

He had to think of a solution quickly. He couldn’t risk sending him away, not even to the Druids, they were as much slaves to the so-called prophecies as Kilgharrah was, and Merlin had once been (”Gods. Sounds like I’ve been dealing with destiny for years. It’s been like six months. I’m too young for this shit.”). But equally... what could he do with him??

Thankfully, no one had really gotten a good look at the boy, so hopefully with a change of clothes and a haircut, he wouldn’t be recognised, at least not if Merlin came up with a convincing enough story.

To be honest... the cover story worried him far more than the prospect of someone recognising him. Uther hadn’t recognised Nimueh, the woman who had been his court sorceress for years... the man was apparently not very observant.

In the end, it was a throwaway comment by Morgana a few days later, about a week after the Druid boy had “escaped” that gave Merlin a very stupid idea. So stupid, that it might just work.

~

Morgana had once again snuck away from the main castle to sit with Merlin and Mordred in the servant’s room. 

Gaius had said nothing as she’d entered the Physician’s chambers, enough food for four hidden away in the picnic basket she carried, just raised his eyebrow slightly, and thanked The Lady for the food offering that was definitely-not-a-bribe.

She gave him a quick wink, and the old physician rolled his eyes fondly as he set an overturned bucket in front of the door; if anyone came in, they would come in loudly.

Mordred was happy to see her, and Merlin hid a fond smile at the boy’s quiet giggles. He still didn’t speak much, so it was a relief to see him finding joy in something, even if it was clandestine visits from Uther’s ward.

She ruffled his hair slightly, resisting the urge to pull the touch averse boy into a tight hug, and set the basket on the bed. Merlin sat against the pillows, and Morgana sat down opposite him, the basket in between them as Mordred clambered up to sit just in front of Merlin.

Morgana and Merlin talked quietly as they ate, Mordred staying silent as the adults (or...as adult as they could get. Like Merlin kept thinking to himself, he was too young for this shit at sixteen, and Morgana was only two years older than him) avoided the elephant in the room.

The elephant being that they couldn’t keep this up forever. Arthur had a habit of bursting in whenever he so pleased, and it was a miracle he hadn’t done so already. Plus, it would be cruel to expect Mordred to stay cooped up in here for much longer. He was a child, he deserved to play outside and explore and do all the other things he couldn’t do in Merlin’s bedroom.

Once they finished eating, Mordred moved to his makeshift bed in the corner, tightly clutching a book that Morgana had bought him, and furrowing his brows in concentration as he read.

Morgana stared at him with a soft smile, and Merlin sighed, once again worrying about his new ward’s future.

Morgana tilts her head, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, and looks slowly between Merlin and Mordred as the servant raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You know Merlin, the two of you look remarkably similar.”

Mordred is engrossed in his book, and doesn’t react at all to Morgana’s quiet comment, but Merlin’s eyebrow goes even higher as he huffs out a laugh:

“You think? I don’t see it.”

Morgana looks at him with a deadpan expression:

“Merlin, you don’t have a mirror in here. I’m fairly certain you have no concept of what you look like.-”

Merlin looks indignantly offended for all of two seconds before he sighs and nods, she’s right to be fair. He’s tall-ish, with pale skin, and he thinks he has brown hair. That’s about all he knows.

Morgana chuckles as she once again looks at Mordred:

“You both have very dark hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin. You know...-”

She looks back at him with a thoughtful frown on her face:

“-if someone told me you were brothers... I’d believe it.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow:

“Really?”

She nods decisively:

“Yeah. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I look between you, yes. You could definitely be related.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, thinking. He takes in a deep breath and tilts his head slightly:

“It could work. I haven’t really talked to anyone about my family so... we could say that... he came to live with me? Because life here is... good?”

Morgana snorts slightly, rolling her eyes before looking back at him seriously:

“You’d have to be more convincing than that. You could say that the harvest was poor in your village? That Mordred was better off coming to stay with his big brother in the big city?”

Merlin nods at her words, grimacing slightly as he mutters:

“If we’re running with the whole... brother thing, I need to write a letter to my mum, just in case. Gods she’s going to laugh so much.”

Morgana laughs at him quietly, but the noise finally catches Mordred’s attention and he looks up in confusion. Merlin moves the basket to the floor, and gestures to the boy to come over.

He walks over wordlessly, climbing up to kneel between them, biting his lip nervously.

“Is it time for me to leave, Emrys?” echoes through Merlin’s head, and he gives the boy a comforting smile, shaking his head slightly, before saying out loud:

“You’re staying with me, Mordred-”

The boy smiles slightly as he stares at Merlin in reverence, and Morgana quickly hides her questioning gaze. She could see that there was more between them than simple protectiveness over a child, and thankfulness for being saved, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Merlin continued:

“-but we can’t keep you hidden in here forever, so we’re going to tell people that you’re my younger brother, come to live with me. Is that alright?”

Mordred nods his head vigorously, and Merlin chuckles slightly as the boy’s grin grew:

“Ok. We’ll get you a haircut and tell Gaius the plan. Probably wait a few more days for things to settle down further, and then see how it goes, ok?”

Mordred nods once more, smile not leaving his face. Morgana bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Merlin’s shocked face when the boy threw himself into the servant’s arms for a tight hug.

~

Merlin spends the next few days teaching Mordred all about Ealdor and his mother and Will, so that the boy could have at least a little knowledge on what was supposedly his home and family.

The next time Morgana came to visit, she brought a comb and a sharp pair of scissors, as well as a few more changes of clothes that looked less... Druid. By the time she left that evening, Mordred had much shorter hair, and a wide grin on his face at the prospect of finally being able to go outside (he was Druid after all, he needed trees and fresh air).

The letter had been sent home, and Merlin was expecting a reply any day now. The only thing left to worry about was how to hide Mordred’s Druid marking. It would be easy to cover with clothes, but Uther’s increasing paranoia meant that it would be best if they could find a more permanent solution.

Gaius suggested some sort of glamour spell fairly quickly, but Merlin was unwilling to cast one on the boy until he’d mastered it.

And THAT meant showing up to serve Arthur with ink all over his hands that he had tried and failed to cover.

Merlin had also realised with dawning horror, that he would have to tell Morgana the truth. She knew about the marking, and she was smart, there was no way that hiding it wasn’t something that had occurred to her. She would bring it up eventually, and how could Merlin explain without having to... explain??

Morgana was already risking her favour with the King, and frankly, her life, by protecting a Druid... she would do the same for Merlin, right? But Mordred hadn’t actually done any magic... BUT she’d always spoken against executions... BUT Merlin had lied and hidden it from her, his friend...

Hmm...

In the end, he’d decided he would just have to suck it up, and tell her. Fuck whatever that dragon said. After Kilgharrah’s last round of... advice, Merlin had been ignoring his calls. If there was an emergency, the cryptic bastard would tell him, and until then he could just sulk in that cave on his own.

That two weeks was also enough for Uther to become convinced that the mysterious Druid boy really was long gone, and to just forget about it. He was pissed of course, but talking about it and extending the search just highlighted that a child, barely eleven summers, had managed to evade all of his forces and that... did not cast him in a good light.

It took Merlin about two weeks to fully master the spell, which was longer than the three of them were hoping, but he was adamant that he perfect it before he cast it on Mordred, and Gaius was incredibly impressed at his ward’s determination.

Morgana was of course confused about why they kept pushing it back, she thought they were only going to wait a few days before they started introducing Mordred, but she trusted Merlin and saw no harm in waiting a little longer.

When Morgana arrived that evening, she could tell that Merlin was... anxious. They’d agreed on a specific day to make introductions but it wasn’t until the end of this week, it didn’t make any sense for Merlin to suddenly be nervous about it.

Mordred wasn’t quite as good at hiding his emotions, and didn’t even giggle like he normally did when Morgana came over, just stared at his “brother” anxiously.

Morgana rolled her eyes and huffed as she shut the door:

“Alright, Merlin. What is it? Spit it out.”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to come out with an excuse, before he snapped it shut again and took a deep breath.

It worried him, how easy, how automatic it was for him to lie, but that was a worry for another time.

Mordred reached up and took his hand, squeezing it, and Merlin looked down at him with a weak smile before sitting on the bed and gesturing that Morgana join him.

She looked at him worriedly, but settles where he gestures, and doesn’t acknowledge the way Mordred sits defensively between them.

The boy looks back at Merlin:

“Are you sure, Emrys?”

Merlin gives him another smile, and squeezes his shoulder slightly as he raises an eyebrow:

“I’m sure. And you need to get used to calling me Merlin at some point.”

Mordred pouts slightly, and Merlin ruffles his hair as he laughs, before looking back up at Morgana’s questioning stare.

He takes another deep breath, before slowly speaking:

“I... we’ve found a way to properly hide Mordred’s marking.”

Morgana looks taken aback, but relieved:

“Oh. Is that all? That’s good isn’t it? I have to admit, it was worrying me.”

Merlin gulps:

“Yeah it... it is good... it’s just, it involves... magic.”

Morgana raises her eyebrow, and nods slowly, as if it were obvious:

“I figured it would be. It’s not like it would be easy or reliable to cover it with make-up every morning, or hide it with clothes.-”

It’s Merlin’s turn to look taken aback now, and Mordred fixes her with an unreadable expression. Morgana continues:

“-The problem, lies in finding someone willing to do whatever spell it is. Someone we could trust wouldn’t share the secret, no matter what.”

Merlin grimaces slightly, more gulping, and taking yet another deep breath:

“We already have someone. Me.”

Morgana gasps slightly, and she’s vaguely aware of the brothers in front of her tensing up, but all she can focus on is the gold of Merlin’s irises.

The gold fades, and Merlin clears his throat, breaking her out of her stupor. She reaches over and punches Merlin harshly on the arm before getting up and beginning to pace, speechless.

Merlin and Mordred panic at first, but when she makes no moves towards the door in her pacing, they relax. That only lasts for a moment or two however, before she looks back to Merlin, furious:

“Are you thick Merlin? Why on earth would you learn magic in Camelot of all places?? Do you have a death wish!?”

Merlin laughs slightly, cheeks turning pink as he rubs the back of his neck:

“Actually uh... I was born with magic; I’ve always had it. My mother sent me here because she thought I would learn to control it better.”

Morgana looks incredulous as she continues to rant:

“What? With the fear of execution hanging over your head?! That’s not control, that’s terror.”

Merlin shrugs:

“It works though. My magic is mostly instinctual, the threat of torture by pyre sure as hell stops me from losing control when I’m angry or scared or whatever...”

Morgana huffs, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare. Both Merlin and Mordred cower slightly as they are reminded of angry and disproving mothers; as if they were about to be scolded for getting their clothes dirty, or ruining their dinner with too many snacks.

She just stares at him for a minute, before she sags slightly, and begins chuckling at the boys’ fearful faces:

“You are ridiculous. But it’s far too late to persuade you to leave now. Does Arthur know?”

Merlin’s face morphs into a mournful frown, as he looks to the floor and mumbles:

“No. I wish I could tell him but... with Uther...”

Morgana sighs, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“Uther won’t be here forever. We’ll just have to keep Arthur from turning into too much of a prat before he becomes King.-”

Merlin laughs at that, and looks up to give the woman a grateful smile. She returns his smile before continuing:

“-So, you can do the spell?”

Merlin winces slightly and gestures for Mordred to pull the collar of his shirt down, to reveal a blank patch of skin:

“I’ve actually already done it. It’ll stay there permanently until I take it off. Though we should keep checking, just in case.”

Morgana looks surprised, and smiles:

“What’s the problem then?-”

She rolls her eyes when Merlin looks at her incredulously:

“-Oh, come on Merlin. I’m not going to turn you in, you’re safe with me. You both are, and you always will be.”

The servant jumps up to give her a tight hug, which she quickly returns as Mordred nervously joins in. Morgana smiles to herself, and squeezes her boys tighter.

She may love Uther and Arthur, and she knew they loved her back, in their own way, but this? This was family.

~

The time finally came for Merlin to introduce his baby brother. Hunith had supposedly dropped him off late last night and left immediately, having to get back home quickly. 

Morgana had gone to gather Gwen and Arthur whilst Merlin and Mordred waited in their room (it was definitely their room now, instead of just Merlin’s).

It was early in the morning, and to say that Arthur was grumpy at being woken by Morgana instead of Merlin, was an understatement.

But he eventually caved, and dressed himself as he grumbled, allowing Morgana to drag him to meet Gwen (who was equally confused) before the three of them made their way to the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius was suspiciously absent, and Morgana knocked on Merlin’s door, before slowly opening it and walking in, Arthur and Gwen following her quickly.

Gwen was surprised at the sight of Merlin stood behind a child, hands protectively on his shoulders, but smiled and gave Mordred a soft wave in greeting.

Arthur however, froze, and stared at the boy with a shocked expression.

Morgana moved to stand next to Mordred, and took one of his hands as Merlin began to speak:

“Gwen, Arthur, I want you to meet my baby brother, Mordred. He’s come to live with me.”

Gwen waved again, and bent over to Mordred’s height:

“Hi Mordred, I’m Guinevere, but all my friends call me Gwen. I didn’t know that Merlin had a brother, but it’s lovely to meet you.”

Mordred gave her a small smile, and Merlin suppressed a chuckle as-

“I like her, Em- Merlin.”

-echoed through his head.

Arthur’s gaze moved away from Mordred finally, up to Merlin.

Merlin stared back at him blankly, but Arthur saw the way his jaw clenched as he moved a protective hand down, to pull Mordred closer to him.

The Prince let out a deep sigh, growling slightly as Gwen looked at him in confusion, and Morgana and Merlin stared at him challengingly.

He shook his head as his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands before looking back to Mordred with a strained smile:

“It’s nice to meet you, Mordred. My name’s Arthur.”

With that, Morgana smirks slightly, and Merlin relaxes. Gwen just rolls her eyes:

“Sorry about him Mordred, he doesn’t spend much time around people your age.”

Mordred gives her another smile, and Merlin glances to Gwen, before looking down at Mordred:

“Why don’t you go with Morgana and Gwen to see the city a little? Me and Arthur need to talk, I’ll catch up with you later, ok?”

Mordred turns around quickly, and grabs Merlin’s hand tightly:

“You promise??”

Gwen holds in an “awww” and Morgana hides her smile. Mordred rarely talks aloud (she’d been told of the mental link), but she’s glad to see he was feeling at least a little more comfortable.

Merlin crouches down, and pulls the boy into a tight hug, stroking his hair slightly as he stares straight at Arthur:

“I promise. I’ll never leave you for long Mordred.”

Arthur gulps at Merlin’s hard stare, but gives him an almost imperceptible nod, which Merlin returns as he stands up. Mordred gives him one more look as he takes one of Morgana’s hands, and one of Gwen’s, and follows them out of the room.

Morgana shuts the door quietly, and Arthur sighs again before looking at Merlin:

“What are you thinking Merlin?? You just thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Merlin crosses his arms, his glare still hard:

“No, I knew you would notice, I just had faith that you’re a better man than your father.”

Arthur is still deep in his “my father can do no wrong” faze, and takes great offense at that, taking a threatening step forward and growling:

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin just huffs and raises an eyebrow slightly:

“I had assumed that you were not the type of man to have a child executed, just for existing.-”

Merlin copies Arthur’s step forward, raising his chin and continuing, his voice low and dangerous:

“-Did I assume correctly? Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that kid, Arthur. Nothing.”

Arthur stares at him incredulously, only managing to hold Merlin’s surprisingly confident stare for a few moments, before nodding and stepping back:

“Of course. He’s a child, Merlin, I won’t see him hurt, if I can help it.”

Merlin nods slowly, not looking away from Arthur as he softly says:

“I’ll hold you to that.-”

He walks around The Prince, opening the door and stepping halfway through before looking over his shoulder, and quietly saying to a confused Arthur:

“-If you truly believed that all magic is evil, and always corrupted, no matter what, then you wouldn’t care that he’s a child; you’d want him dead anyway. So perhaps think about your... prejudices, a little more deeply, maybe you’ll discover you are different to Uther in other ways as well.”

Before Arthur can even really process what Merlin said, the servant is shutting the door behind him, and rushing off to find his new brother.

~

OK SO!!! 

I really LOVED writing this, there will definitely be more parts, I just figured I should end it here before I got carried away

This series is finished!! (Links at the top <3 )

[echoversit]

Questions 1

I'll probably turn this into a mini-series of questions I wish I could ask Sun and Moon and their replies. This was inspired by @bamsara 's immaculate fic Solar Lunacy (which I have been posting a lot about whoops). Word count is about 1.8k so enjoy!

----------

     “I’ve got a question.” You say, sagging into the desk chair the same way you do after every long shift. You’re not even halfway through yet. Sun watches you curiously from the other side of the desk, moving to sit on it, hands moving to support him as he leans back. 

     “Shoot!” he sends you a grin and you mostly send one back. His gaze seems to intensify slightly, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“How do you guys solve problems?” you ask. Sun’s eyebrows raise slightly as he starts to think, a hand coming up to his chin.

“Permanently.” He seems to interrupt his own thinking, looking surprised and then his face goes suddenly blank, before he comes back and chuckles nervously. “Ahaha, what a thing to say! I’m not sure that was quite what I meant to-”

“You know, your face goes blank when you’re talking to Moon.” you interrupt him, eyebrows raised incredulously but a smile on your face. He blinks at you, genuinely surprised. 

“Really?” You nod.

“Oh yeah…I can also tell when Moon’s talking even when it's your turn. It’s kind of obvious. But you don’t talk a lot when it’s his turn. Is it harder to talk when it’s you or do you not have alot to say..?” You take a moment to look at his reaction. His eyebrows are raised in consternation, and there’s a wide smile on his face despite the intensity of his gaze.

“Well, sunshine, I didn’t realize you knew us so well!” he said, a hand coming to frame his face charmingly, sending you a wink. “But we got off topic, how do we solve problems? I usually try to figure out exactly what the source of the problem is and work top down.”

Your eyebrows narrow in thought. “...um, could I have an example?” He nodded quickly.

“Sure! Just the other day, a whole group of children had an upset. If I tried calming down each child individually, it could take all day and the problem might not be solved. I found the one that was the most upset- one of the younger ones- and discovered that he was extra hungry since he hadn’t had breakfast and it was already lunch! I gave him some food, he stopped crying, and with a little comforting, the rest of the children stopped too, since they were only crying in reaction to his tantrum.”

You scratch your cheek absentmindedly. “That makes sense. I like that approach.”

“Well thank you!” he leans a little closer to you. “What made you ask that question? Something happen in the outside world?” You cocked your head, a different question suddenly in mind.

“Sun..do you ever wish you could leave the daycare? Or even the pizzaplex?”

Sun’s face instantly went blank for a full ten seconds. When he came back, he fully shivered back into his frame, before his eyes jolted wide as his shaky grin. “What? What a silly question, that can’t have been what you were thinking of!” 

Your eyebrows furrow in concern. “No, I’m- are you ok? You just always say ‘outside world,’ and it made me curious-”

“Yes! We’re fine!! Now, no more pesky distractions, what happened to make you curious about problem solving?” His tone is a little less warm than you’re used to, but you try to shrug it off, studying his expression and latching onto the tiny, pinprick pupils that only appear when something has not gone to plan. You hold them for a long moment, watching as his guard tenses again, before your lips press together and you sigh, giving up. His tension lessens.

“I asked because there’s some stuff going on in my project group, and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“Hmm, is that why I see a contact named “GP Idiot DNI” show up in your phone notifications?” he said casually, and you frown at him, glancing down at your phone, tossed onto the desk carelessly, now lighting up with text messages. You groan, partially forgetting the tension still in the air. 

“Yeah. Some of my groupmates have an issue with the leader, who…” your phone buzzes again, and you silence it decisively. “will not leave me alone. I’ve kind of become the center of the problem without even attempting to get into their argument.”

Sun made a sympathetic sound. “That does sound tough. Have you tried asking what happened?”

You roll your eyes. “I did, actually. I got a couple versions. The original argument was a year ago, they don’t even fully remember what happened. Making amends is out though, both parties made that clear.”

He hummed. “Well, have you tried switching groups? If you’ve become the center of a problem that’s not even recent, remove yourself. They can fight it out amongst themselves. Or just fail the project.”

You straighten. “I guess that’s a possibility. I’ll have to email my prof. I just feel bad..it’s my only on-campus class this semester, and I’ve been trying really hard since I know the professor.”

A large hand is placed on your shoulder.  Raising your head, Sun looks down at you kindly. “If you know them, they know how hard of a worker you are. I’m sure they’ll understand.” You smile back up, pleased with your solution. Thinking about it a little, you’re pretty sure if you explain it at the next class, the prof will let you switch. There’s still enough time. You put your hand over his in a show of thanks.

“Thanks, Sun. I guess I just needed a new perspective. I don’t really have a lot of people to ask, but I’m glad I talked to you about it.” You fiddle with your other hand a little as you say it. His smile shrinks but grows considerably more genuine.

“Well I’m flattered that you thought to come to me first.” he says softly, thumb smoothing slowly over your hand exactly twice before he stood up suddenly. “Now, we need to finish cleaning up! We’ve left this awful mess for this long?”

You chuckle quietly and heave yourself out of the comfortable security chair.

-----------

You make eye contact with the red-eyed wonder to your right as you fiddle with a broken security bot.

“Hey Moon?”

His attention on you sharpens. His eyes are always on you anyways, but you tend to attribute it to his security programming. Facial recognition and all that.

“How come you can speak when Sun’s out but he doesn’t speak when you’re out?”

He blinks once, face going neutral for a moment before he shrugs. You grimace at him, and he tugs at his cap. After you glare at him for a few more seconds, he lifts into the air slightly on the wire system, body going slightly limp as he does so- his nervous tell. You try not to break your gaze in triumph.

“-gets more time.” You blink. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s more lights on than off. I get a little bit of his turn.”

You consider this. The pizzaplex is lights on around 7AM, but opens at 8. Then, the building closes at 10:30 at night, but depending on your shift the lights can stay on until midnight. That’s only 7-8 hours for Moon versus- you double check your math- 16 or 17 for Sun? No wonder they’re so neurotic- Sun barely gets any rest and Moon gets barely any time to stretch his legs. You say the first thing that comes to mind.

“That’s not fair.” Moon floats a foot or two above the ground, still. Listening. You continue. “Management or Parts and Services need to even that out. Or make lights turn out quicker or something. You only get a few hours to be fully active and Sun has to run for most of the day? You’ve got to be restless out of your mind and Sun’s got to be fucking exhausted. I bet that’s part of why he doesn’t say much when it’s you turn.” you finish, frustrated on the animatronic’s behalf. 

Moon stares at you, eyes white. He doesn’t even manage a “language.” You take this as a confirmation of your speculation.

You hum. “I bet if I email Management about that and make a case about not overworking one side of the daycare attendant over the other they’d do something about it.” you think for a moment. “I might say something about it to Freddy too? I think he mentioned that he can make complaints to management one time.” You walk over to Moon and pat him on the arm since you can’t reach his shoulder. “Would that help a bit?” You don’t want to overstep. Moon looks at you, blinking one eye into a red glow. He smiles at you, something closer to real from Moon than you’d seen yet.

“Problem-solver. New nickname?” You laugh at the reference to your earlier conversation. “No, I’ll keep the one have, thanks.” you flash your gifted nametag and his smile sharpens in delight. You wink at him, and turn to screw the last few bolts into the security bot and watch it's eyes flash on. After setting it on it’s way, you turn back to Moon as he does what Sun did earlier and shivers slightly, eyes refocusing on you after a moment. You stand again and wipe off your knees, stretching and then checking your watch. It’s late. You look up meet Moon’s eyes head on, finding him quite a bit closer to you than a few seconds ago, watching you very closely from just a foot or two to your side, feet back on the ground. You startle slightly at the looming animatronic, but shrug it off, clearing your throat. 

“I should probably head out, I have class tomorrow..” you say, almost regretful to go, but you can’t think of any other reason to stay. Moon silently escorts you to the staff exit door onthe wire system. As you wave and open the door, he snickers seemingly to nothing, then turns back to you.

“If you are not removed from your group project idiot..remove them.” You shake your head in amusement. 

“Nope, sorry. Not happening, thank though. Goodnight, Moon.”

He stares into space for a minute, face blank and eyes black. The red glow comes back after a moment. 

“Goodnight Brat.” then, a slight crackle. His eyes flicker white briefly. Then, a much brighter voice comes out then you were used to. “Goodnight, Sunshine! See you tomorrow!”

You straighten, then grin and wave again. Moon’s eyes shift fully to white. “Goodnight Sun! Both of you have a nice night!” a silent wave accompanies you out the door. 

As you clock out and exit the building, the night’s discussions leave you thinking. An email to management was definitely in order to solve that issue- Sun and Moon would probably be a lot calmer if their schedule was evened out. They might enjoy things more, and that might help whatever was wrong with Moon...? You tuck that thought away for now. That was one problem solved, but you wouldn’t be forgetting that system reboot when you asked if they ever wanted to leave. Getting in your car, you russle through your bag and toss the heavy “Fazbear Entertainment Extended Staff Rules, Guidelines, Legal Reminders, and Permissions” book onto your dashboard and prepared yourself for a late night of McDonald’s coffee. You had some reading to do about how far your animatronic handling responsibilities can stretch.

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning:

--

Dot lays on her bed, hands under her head, staring at the ceiling, wondering. It’s been a week since you ran away from Bucky. Bucky has been locked away in his room ever sense, and hasn’t come to see her yet. I mean I get he had feelings for you, but enough is enough. Bucky has to know that you were not the one he was meant to be with. The fact that she managed to find him nearly a century later is fate. Surely Bucky knows that.

Suddenly there is a knock on her door, bringing Dot out of her thoughts. She opens and sees Bucky standing there, looking tired. 

“Oh Jamie, what is wrong?” Dot asks innocently enough.

Bucky looks at her with sad eyes, “Y/N left me. She didn’t tell me why, but she left me. I-I feel so foolish. I thought she loved me,” he said as tears came to his eyes.

Dot pulls him into a tight hug. And of course because he cannot see her face, she smirks in victory. After some time Bucky pulls back. Dot grabs his flesh hand and pulls him into her room and toward her bed.

“I’m so sorry this happened Jamie. When did she leave?” Dot asked.

“Last week,” Bucky said looking away. “I have been trying to find her, but she has made it nearly impossible. Should have known not to trust one of the best spies in the world.” Bucky says.

Dot furrows her brows, “She is a spy? I thought you were all were Avengers.”

Bucky looked at her, “The Avengers are made up of all different people with different skills and powers to fight the evil in this world. Y/N was kidnapped as a child and turned into a spy. Natasha helped her escape and now she is... or was... an Avenger. She always felt we were her family, so I must have done something if she was willing to leave. I just wish I knew what,” Bucky said.

“Jamie, I know you love her, but obviously she didn’t love you as much as you thought. You need to stop thinking about what you could have possibly done wrong and move on. Now I want to hear more about the different skills and powers you were talking about with the Avengers. I mean I have lived here for several months and know nothing about this,” Dot says.

Bucky looks at her with a mix of shock and annoyance, but shakes his head, “Uh, well you know Steve has the super soldier serum, Tony is a genius and has made suits that can do anything, Natasha is also a spy from the Red Room, Clint is a spy and the best shot I’ve ever seen, Sam can fly and was in the military, Wanda has powers and can read minds, Vision is a robot from the same source that Wanda got her powers from, and Thor is a god from another planet,” Bucky said quickly.

Dot paled a little, especially hearing Wanda can read minds. She looked at Bucky, “And... and you?” she asks quietly.

It took a lot to not smirk at the scared expression on her face, but Bucky leaned in, “Me? Well, I was taken by Hydra, given a similar serum like Steve, and was brainwashed to become the greatest assassin in the world. they would freeze me until they needed me and I would kill anyone they wanted, and any witnesses. Unfortunately that included Tony’s parents, but he and I have made up so to speak,” Bucky says.

He watches Dot pale more as she suddenly looks frighten of the man on her bed, “How... how could you not tell me that before? We spent so much time together and you.. you never mentioned any of this,” Dot said.

Bucky looked at her and tried to seem sincere, “Does it matter? I mean as you said maybe this is fate, the two of us being here, in this time, together. I mean I do miss Y/N, but maybe this is a sign that I need to stop fighting the feelings I have... for you,” Bucky said.

“Jamie... I-,” Dot hesitates.

“Surely you still love me like you said you do, now knowing my past,” Bucky says.

Dot swallowed and put on a brave face, “Y-Yes Jamie. I-I still love you,” She says.

--

You wait in the conference room, knee shaking under the table as Steve and Nat sit in front of you.

“Y/N, you have to calm down,” Nat says.

“I’m trying but this is taking too long. What if it doesn’t work. What if--”

You are cut off by the door opening and Bucky walking in. You both stop and stare at each other. Your heart beats quickly in your chest as your stare into his blue eyes. He stares right back into your Y/E/C eyes.

“So? Did it work?” Nat asked, snapping you both out of your staring contest. Bucky looked at Nat, and then back at you before he smirked.

“She is terrified, but is going to pretend she can handle being with me. This should be easy,” he says.

You smile and look at Nat you nods, “Good, step 1 complete. The bitch knows who she is dealing with. Now Barnes, I need you to seduce her. Make her think that you are interested. We need this to go on for a bit before she snaps, which she will. Or I’ll snap her like a twig,” Natasha says.

Nat continues to talk about the beat down she wants to give Dot, while you and Bucky go back to staring at each other. Bucky walks around the table to stand in front of you, “She thinks you are still gone,” he says softly.

You nod, “Good. She needs to think she won.”

“Can we talk, alone? Tonight? Maybe on the roof?” Bucky asks.

You take a deep breath and look down at your hands, “I... sure, Buck. Once Dot has gone to sleep. You belong to her now,” you say.

Bucky steps closer, “I know you know the truth, but please know that everything that I am doing now is to make her pay for hurting you. If I belong to anyone, it’s you, baby,” he says before kissing your forehead and leaving the room.

You take a shuddering breath as tears come to your eyes. You know Bucky is innocent, but all you can hear are the words his voice said to her. Bucky still doesn’t know what happened, but you know he will ask you relentlessly until you tell him.

You have to keep your eye on the prize. Dot needed to pay for what she has done. But when it’s over, will you be able to get over everything and still be with Bucky? Will this plan drive you further apart?

--

Chapter 6 / Chapter 8

So what do you think the overall plan is? Will the reader be able to ignore the fact that Bucky needs to seduce Dot, while she is still in pain about everything? Feedback is appreciated.

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[fernweh-writes]

Hi dear, I was wondering if you could do headcanon about slashers having s/o, who is really insecure, that she is not pretty enough, doubts herself and is afraid that she is not worthy of them.. So basically some comforting fluff? 👉👈

Some of these are kinda nsfw. Mostly just Jesse and Asa’s though.

-Fern🌿

Michael Meyers

Michael was a person who didn’t understand social cues and had no clue how to deal with people and their emotions. But he’s also a stalker who is good at observing people and you’re the love of his life.

He notices the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes so sad and also so filled with hate at the same time. Your eyes always focus on the same parts of you and it’s like he can almost hear the criticizing thoughts in your head.

Today as you stood in the mirror your hands squeezed your sides, wishing that your waist was small like all those models on TV and magazines. You wish you looked like the girls you noticed Michael always looking at, the kind of girls he always seemed to admire.

You were so busy glaring yourself down you hadn’t even noticed Michael walk up behind you until he was setting his hands on top of yours. His mask was still down over his face, so your eyes met the empty dark holes of it in the mirror. You had only ever seen him without it once before.

Spinning around in his arms, you turned to look up at him, “You’re being extra sneaky today, I didn’t even hear you unlock the door.” He didn’t look down at you, his head still tilted up, watching you in the mirror. The fact he didn’t acknowledge what you said made your heart drop.

That was until his hands left yours and crept up to his mask, slowly removing it. His blue eyes searched yours before tilting your chin up and placing a firm kiss to your lips. Without breaking the kiss he grabbed your hips and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you over to the bed.

He planned on showing you just how much he appreciated you and your body.

Bo Sinclair

It was pretty common for Bo to make comments about your body. His sexual comments sometimes made you feel slightly better, like you were desirable. Other times it made you feel like a piece of meat, like all you were good for was a quick fuck.

Bo may be insensitive and he usually never thought twice about what he said, but he was also observant and good at picking up on people’s emotions. He noticed when his comments stopped making you laugh and shove his chest and you began to force a smile that looked more like a grimace. Still, he was Bo, and he figured that if it really mattered you would just tell him to shut his trap.

After some time though he figures it’s best to lay off the vulgar comments and switch on the southern charm. He can sweet talk anyone he wants but he especially loves the power he holds over you whenever he uses that charm against you. You’re so easy to fluster, you melt into him every time he compliments you.

He quickly decides that he enjoys praising you. After all, it seems to make you so needy for him. The fact you seek out his praise just fuels that big ego of his.

Comes up with plenty of pet names. His favorites are definitely darlin’ and pretty girl though. Calling you honey is one of his cheesier favorites. You can expect him to start saying “Honey, I’m home,” whenever he comes home in a good mood. If he doesn’t say it, it’s best to just hand him a beer and let him yell at whoever he decides to be upset with.

If you open up to him about your insecurities he really won’t say much. Bo has never been a big feelings person and he doesn’t know how to do a good job of comforting or relating to people. However, you’ll notice him being extra sweet and affectionate. Just don’t mention it or else he’ll feel the need to be an asshole. He’s gotta keep up hsi reputation after all.

Long story short, Bo isn’t all bad and he can be soft and sweet sometimes.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent saw you as his muse, his goddess, his reason for living and he made sure to always show you exactly how much you meant to him.

He knew your body better than you ever could. His hands had traced every curve, every dip, every perfect imperfection of you and he could always find something new about you to admire.

Vincent knew the parts of you that he hated, so he always made sure to pay extra attention to those parts of your body just to show you how much he admired everything about you. Everything you thought was the worst part of you would quickly become his favorite.

He’s no stranger to insecurity, he grew up in a small town where people loved to talk and gossip. Talk and gossip isn’t much fun when you’re the kid with only half of a face who wears a mask everywhere he goes because his parents didn’t like to look at him. He would rather die than to ever let you feel that way about yourself.

He still has a favorite part of you though and that’s your eyes. They tell him everything he ever needs to know about what you’re thinking or feeling. He’s seen your eyes show how much you hated your reflection to the amount of love for him that was bottled up within you. Your eyes always gave away what you were thinking, which allowed him to be able to swoop in any time you were troubled.

You quickly become one of his favorite things to draw. He no longe needs a reference for you anymore either, he has your whole body memorized. He couldn’t forget anything about you no matter how hard he tried. Even then, why would he ever want to forget something as beautiful and perfect as you.

Brahms Heelshire

He completely understands feeling insecure. After all he had to hide in the walls and cover his face after the fire. He watched his parents love a doll more than they could ever love him. So he makes sure to tell you how beautiful he thinks you are even if you aren’t a blonde. But he doesn’t understand why you feel like you don’t deserve him.

Brahmsy thinks you’re the best person ever, he wouldn’t have kept you as his nanny if he didn’t think that you were perfect. After all you take care of him and handle everything your strange life throws at you.

He’s seen every part of you while hiding in those walls and there isn’t a single part of you that he isn’t mesmerized by.

There really isn’t ever anyone for you to feel lesser than in the manor. After all, it is just you, Brahms, and Malcolm. However, if anyone ever came along and made you feel inferior or undeserving Brahms wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of them. He can’t have you feeling upset.

He’s touched starved and handsy so he uses each and every single chance you give him to explore your body. There’s nothing he wants more than to touch every part of you. He’s in awe of you and he wants to show you just how much he needs you.

He makes sure to express to you that if either of you weren’t worthy of the other it would be him. After all, he got extra lucky for you to have stumbled into his grasp and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you escape.

Thomas Hewitt

There’s not a moment where he isn’t showing you just how much he loves you. Once he becomes comfortable with you, Thomas is surprisingly affectionate. He is not against PDA and the family never mentions it. After all Luda Mae wants grand babies and Hoyt knows better than to anger Tommy. Besides, Luda Mae thinks that the two of you are absolutely adorable.

Thomas is well aware of how it feels to hate the reflection in the mirror and he hates that you could ever feel that way about yourself. He does his best to show you that he sees you in a completely different light than you see yourself in. To him, you’re the sweetest most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.

The fact you think you don’t deserve him leaves him feeling flustered. He never expected anyone to love him the way that you do. For you to say you’re not good enough for him blows his mind. He’s a murderer and he doesn’t see how you could ever find him attractive. He. Can’t even speak to tell you how much he adores you but there’s times where he really wishes he could.

Whenever you’re having days where you feel more self critical than usual he puts off his chores to take care of you. Hoyt can bitch all that he wants, Thomas is always going to put you first. Will spend all day in bed with you running his hands over your body and placing gentle kisses against your skin.

Listens to anything you have to say. Although he can’t contribute much to the conversation, Tommy is still a very expressive person. You can see the criticizing look he gives you anytime you say something negative about yourself. He’s not above huffing and rolling his eyes either, grumbling anytime you say something that he doesn’t like.

Billy Loomis

It’s no secret that Billy had plenty of people throwing themselves at him. Sure, he never really paid much attention to them, but that doesn’t change the fact that so many people wanted your boyfriend. So, it was easy for you to begin to think about how easy it would be for Billy to find someone better than you.

As soon as you open up to Billy about these things he’s quick to shut those thoughts down. After all, Billy rarely ever let’s people get as close to him as you have. In fact, the only other person that comes close is Stu. Billy wouldn’t have opened up to you if he didn’t think that you were permanent and he makes sure that you know that.

Begins to shut down all your self critical comments as well. Before he just thought you were joking, and in a way you still were, but he knew that you thought there was some truth to your words. He’s basically going to force you to be kinder to yourself whether you like it or not.

Billy can be an ass sometimes, he likes to pick fights, and he can be insensitive, but never would he use something he knows your insecure about as leverage against you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.

Lots of heavy petting and make out sessions whenever your having days where you feel more self loathing than usual. You may not like the person in the mirror but he sure as hell does. He’s gonna make sure you know just how much he loves you and how much he loves your body as well.

Stu Macher

Simply cannot allow you to think that you are anything but the hottest and coolest person on the planet.

Before, it was pretty common for Stu to flirt with the girls at his parties, sometime he could even get kinda handsy. However, as soon as he finds out that you’re doubting yourself, he cuts it out quick. No one could be better than you and he feels bad that he even allowed you to think he could ever be interested in anyone else but you.

He enjoyed showing off but once he finds out your insecure he begins to flaunt the fact you’re his. Points out how many people wish could be him whenever he’s showing you off. He believes that if you see how many people want you but can’t have you, you’ll start to feel more confident.

Stu has always been very affectionate, which includes being physically affectionate. Don’t think that he would ever shy away from PDA either. You point out someone staring at him, jealous of you? Great, he’ll make sure to make out with you right in front of them to prove he’s off the market. Won’t hesitate to feel you up in front of people either cause he’s definitely a perverted little shit.

Lots of cuddling and compliments from him. Also enjoys spoiling you to show you just how much he loves you. Shopping sprees to find clothes you feel confident in become very common.

Jesse Cromeans

For you to not feel good enough for him insinuates the idea he has bad taste, and Jesse does not have bad taste. He will go to any length to prove that to you as well.

His favorite pet name for you is princess because to him you might as well be royalty. He wants you to know that your a treasure to him. Expect to be spoiled with the finest clothes, expensive jewelry, you’ll be living lavishly once your Jesse’s. He sees himself as your protector and provider, prides himself in that fact, so obviously you deserve nothing but the best there is.

Jesse understands what it’s like to be insecure, especially after what Gem did to his face, so he’s quick to shut down any negative comments. He knows how to say all the right things as well so you can expect plenty of messages from him that make you absolutely melt. This man can charm anyone, but he mainly focuses that charm on you.

Likes to dress you up in expensive lingerie and tell you how pretty you are before absolutely wrecking you. Jesse will make sure to praise you the entire time.

Feeling insecure about what his employees think of you? He’ll make you sit on his lap during his meetings just to show you off. If you’re blushing like crazy it just makes him feel more justified in caressing your body while his employees can do nothing but stare at the pretty little thing in his lap. Although, if they stare for to long they’ll no longer be an employee or alive.

Would most definitely fuck you in front of a mirror just to show you what he sees. Look at how pretty you are when he’s absolutely wrecking you, how could he not be in awe of you.

Asa Emory

Do you really think that you would be the most prized part of his collection if you weren’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. You’re his favorite pet, he keeps you in his home, in his bed, you don’t get to feel unworthy. Although, the fact you feel like you don’t deserve him would fuel his god complex.

If you’re having a hard time with your insecurities his rough touch will turn into gentle caressing. It’s a rare occasion so make sure to savor the moment.

He notices when you’re feeling upset. Asa knows that being away from you so much gives your mind more time to run rampant. So whenever he’s been away longer than normal he makes sure to indulge you a little bit, even if he is busy. Expect him to let you sit in his lap while he works on grading papers and assignments that he’s gotten behind on. Occasionally he’ll rub your back as you snuggle against his chest. He’s allowed to be soft sometimes to.

Admires everything about your body and he makes sure you know it. Gently caresses and kisses every part of you, especially the parts you’re insecure about.

Much like Jesse, mirror sex is 100% on the table. Asa would love nothing more than for you to see just how beautifully you fall apart because of his touch. He knows your body better than you do and never fails to get exactly the reaction he wants from you.

Domestic Asa Domestic Asa Domestic Asa. If you’re having an extra hard time with your insecurities he would definitely make you breakfast in bed. For just one day you’ll be allowed to call the shots. Or at least you’ll believe you’re the one calling the shots.