#i can smell the fanfiction shipping himself with himself from here

[tired-demonspawn]

"kiss eachother!"

"dont think it hasnt occured to me"

as each day passes and more discussions about the tumblr sexymanification of simon we inch ever closer to the second coming of the onceler

[penheadie]

Can we hear some treasurecop headcanons now??? mayhaps???

All right, strap yourselves in boys. Any of you guys are allowed to take these headcanons and do with them what you will. I honestly tried to write a fanfiction about this but I didn't see anything going anywhere. Someday I really want to pick this back up and modify it and turn the story onto their own fully fledged storyboard much like the one for Skippingstones as well. If you don't like my ships that's cool I'm just going to be over here enjoying my own thing that you aren't obligated to like and enjoy it by myself. 

Vinnie was the first one to catch feelings. After Tre had saved Vinnie after she made an accidental miss-slip when she was trying to run away, him actually being willing to save her despite rooting for the opposite team sparked something strange within her. That hand-holding man, he suddenly didn't seem as annoying as she remembered. 

After Tre had a saved her and was able to get her a light sentence of community service (or have her help out with such things as being a lawyer or helping him solve cases to a crime which meant she would be spending a lot of time with Tre around the clock) Vinnie started showing up around him, in which she would take time out of her day when she would usually go on heists and missions stealing with the boys she somehow found it was much more entertaining to annoy cop boy when she found out how easy it was to fluster him she quickly turned it into a game and found it to be more entertaining than anything else. So for a while it sort of becomes a thing that's more about flustering the cop boy and Tre trying to think of a way to fluster her back.

Another thing that definitely drove Tre towards Vinnie was how absolutely funny he could be whenever he was angry and expressed his rants (think of Alfred as Eggman from the Sonic fandub because it's my headcanon that he sounds like that whenever he's upset or angry) and how absolutely funny he could be whenever he expressed his grievances towards Stone. Vinnie thinks it's so funny to watch him go off the handle and spew nonsense in order to make her laugh even though he's making fun of Stone. 

First time that Tre actually does something nice for Vinnie and starts showing feelings of connection and something more is when he buys bread for a thief to feed her and her gang for the rest of the week. That was the first time that Tre probably left Vinnie speechless before she tried to act like it didn't affect her that much. That was the first time that Tre got Vinnie to blush in return without even realizing it. 

Vinnie is a chaotic bisexual and Tre is questioning as he's very insecure about his sexuality and is unsure of where he stands but he'd like to imagine he's straight or at least tries to be. There's probably a storyline in there where Vinnie helps him be more confident in his identity. 

Tre finds out that Vinnie basically has a sense of smell that is basically the equivalent of a canine unit which has helped him solve a lot of cases when Vinnie was paired up with Tre as community service. Tre is able to see Vinnie’s odd talents and strengths as useful. 

In terms of cute couple shit Vinnie has a secret sweet spot underneath her chin that basically is an override switch that temporarily paralyzes her body from the neck down and makes her entire body go limp and turn into jelly whenever he scratches the area underneath. Tre found this out by accident but he does take advantage of that sweet spot from time to time in order to keep her in line. He finds out that Vinnie is secretly just a giant puppy dog in disguise. 

Sometimes when nobody is looking Tre will attempt to be a daredevil of himself attempting to do the same fancy footwork that he always sees Vinnie does across planks and boards whenever she maneuvers out of his grasp when he tries to catch her. It just reminds him of her. Only for when he reached the other side Vinnie would of course be there smugly smiling at him.

Tre needs to take a note or two from Vinnie because he is always waiting for the perfect moment to happen but he learns from Vinnie that the best things that happen out of life are living in the moment instead of waiting for the perfect moment. It's one of the things that Tre needs to learn as character growth, because he always wants to wait for the perfect moment to catch the trio and impress his father. 

Tre and Vinnie’s dynamic definitely plays off of questioning each other's morals and what the other side stands for. As Vinnie is definitely all for the tear down of the establishment political uprising where the poor overthrow the government, eat the rich and give back to the poor. As she's seen as some sort of a martyr among the other street gangs. Meanwhile Tre argues that the laws are there to help protect the world from people like her because even though their side fights for justice they still put innocent people's lives on the line in the name of starting a movement. Their world views definitely challenge one another and makes the other genuinely question their stance and think about what side they are on. 

Vinnie shares her secrets with Tre such as the ones as she has trouble getting into relationships with people including her ex lovers (Aka Ditch and Jewlie Sue because I want to make the joke that Vinnie ditched Ditch to go become a Tree climber) 

Vinnie is secretly the daughter of Captain Jack Sparrow and her existence is supposed to be a secret because her father wanted to keep her safe and not have to deal with his legacy and the risk of people coming after her for her bloodline if they found out who she was related to. So there's a whole storyline and conflict about that somewhere. 

Tre is a hopeless romantic that loves watching those movies that you would probably see on the Hallmark those dramatic romcom soap opera movies that always makes him crave for real love and connection whenever he watches them. And he really wants something in his life to play out like the ones that he sees in movies.

Tre is a perfectionist and he is a maladaptive daydreamer in which he often daydreams perfect scenarios taking place in his head that usually have to do with this black and white detective filter with Skipp and Stone playing instruments since it’s in my belief he often waits for the perfect moment to happen but part of his development is that he finds out you have to make the most of life while you have the opportunity instead of waiting for it to happen you make the opportunity happen yourself.

It was confirmed by Zi in a Discord message that Tre would not be a fan of Shakespeare but for some reason he would have the entire memory of the play Hamlet engraved in his mind so the play is engraved in his mind very much like Vinnie (which I wish I could dig up but I'm not in the Discord server anymore but if you search up somebody mentioning Shakespeare or Hamlet it's definitely in there) 

(Now this is just a massage that I sent a friend that I'm going to copy and paste here because I think that I would do a horrible job of re-summarizing it again in a modified format) OK so I figured I'd have to tell you about this sooner or later but one day I plan to actually write a Tre x Vinnie fanfic. And I keep thinking about a future scene that is probably going to be the end. All I know is that Tre is boarding a train to leave Ramshackle and he thinks he's seen the last of Vinnie and this is there final goodbye. But low and behold he sees Vinnie jumping on the roof tops outside his window, chasing the train before it has a chance to actually pick up speed. Vinnie jumps on one of the stairs of the train as she and Tre have a face to face confession. And I'm thinking Vinnie steals a kiss from Tre, along with stealing his hat. But before he has a chance to even realize what just happened the train leaves the border of the town. With Vinnie putting on his hat waving goodbye to him and staying in Ramshackle as she gets further and further way. As Tre with a smile waves goodbye to her as well. The end.

And in the modern AU Tre and Vinnie definitely have a true crime podcast that they host together as a couple (Think of Boze vs The World, Skipp and Stone meanwhile would totally have a gameplay or movie commentary channel where they just make fun of horrible movies together)

There was one time Vinnie died taking a bullet for Tre and she literally fought Satan to bring her back to life because not even he wanted to deal with her in Hell.

[tripleglitchwriting]

You mentioned Ultra Magnus trying to cope with the world of One Piece and the Strawhat Pirates and I. Am. Here. For. It.

UM is a very ernest stressed out lawful good character. and the Strawhats are a chaotic good force. More Chaos than all the Wreckers and the Lost Light put together.

So in honor of that post If you don't mind me asking for two requests in one request box open run I'd like to request a One Piece/Lost Lighters crossover.

The Strawhats are helping The Lost Light crew because Luffy and Rodimus vibe. Roddy has a grand fleet flag and Luffy has a Rodimus star.

Either, Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus in a lull in the action asks Robin why she's a Strawhat Pirate. She's the only sane one here.

Or, if your in the mood for something lighter, Franky and Brainstorm Share The Brain-cell^TM while Usop and Perceptor attempt damage control.

YOU UNDERSTAND. YOU GET IT. I will be happy to write this!! I’m sorry it took me so long, I’ve been going through a rough patch when it comes to motivation.

The lost light characters may be a bit ooc because I’ve been having a hard time gauging their personalities. A lot of what I have for them in my head is from other fanfictions.

Also, this is just the start of the story, it’s just how they meet. I’ve yet to write specific interactions between characters, but I wholeheartedly plan to write more!

A little side note for clarification on One Piece in case anyone needs it:

- This takes place sometime after Jinbei gets on the ship

- I watch the dub so I’m going to use all of the names and such they use there (ex. Black foot Sanji -> Black leg Sanji)

- Sanji and Brook will be normal to women. I just don’t want to write them being weird.

Without further ado, I present…

Ten Idiots Meet A Ship Full Of Other Significantly Bigger Idiots

Synopsis:

After an experiment gone bad on the Lost Light (again), a portal is temporarily opened up to another dimension. Before it could be closed, however, a group of strange individuals manage to slip through.

After a long day at sea, The Strawhats always look forward to a first-class home cooked meal by Sanji himself. It was a beautiful evening- the crew opted to stay out on the deck of the Sunny to watch the sunset.

“SANJI! I’M HUNGRY! FOOD! NOW!” Not that much peace could be had with a captain like Luffy.

“I’m coming! Not every cook can whip up something like this every night you know. I swear, you guys eat more than a whole island every day.”

“Hey, that’s just Luffy. Don’t include the rest of us in this!” Nami shouted from the stairs leading to where the rest of the crew sat.

“I’M YOUR CAPTAIN AND I SAY FEED ME! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” Luffy pumped his arms as he chanted, sticking his tongue out as he watched Sanji cart out a giant platter of cartoonishly large meat.

“Smells as delicious as ever, Sanji.” Brook commented.

“Thank you, Brook. At least someone appreciates my food around here.” He glared at his captain, who was completely oblivious to everything else around him and solely focused on his food. Everyone else chatted away. Laughing, eating, looking up at the beautiful swirling vortex that had just appeared in the sky.

Wait.

Luffy had to stretch his arms up as his food began to be sucked into the portal above them, but it was in vain as he began to float too. The Sunny creaked as gravity shifted around them, everything but the ship itself beginning a startling ascent upwards.

“MY MEAT! NAMI, WHAT IS HAPPENING?”

“How should I know?!” She clung to an uprooting tangerine tree, “This is NOT normal! I haven’t read anything about whatever this is!”

“Everybody hang on to something!” Jinbei ordered, staring to float himself. Brook didn’t seem to get the message, as he was the first to loose his grip.

“SOMEBODYHELPMEIMBEINGPULLEDIN—”vwoop! And then he was gone.

“BROOK!” Luffy, having already eaten everything on his plate, launched himself into the portal.

“Damnit Luffy!” Zoro did the same soon after.

“What? Are we seriously going in that thing?” Chopper squealed, Usopp and Nami seemed to agree.

“Maybe we’ll all be immediately killed once we enter. It would be a painless death at least.” Robin said calmly, affixing herself to the ground with her devil fruit powers.

“YOU ARE NOT HELPING!” Usopp, Nami, and Chopper all screamed in unison.

“I suppose this is our next adventure!” Jinbei leapt through the portal. Sanji sighed and followed after him.

“Well, Sunny’s too big to go through that thing, so I guess we’re goin’ in without her.” Franky detached himself from the mast.

“Okay everyone, come on.” Robin peeled Usopp, Nami, and Chopper from their death grips on the ship and took all of them with her as she joined the rest of the crew.

“ROBIN WHY-“ Vwoop! And just like that, the Thousand Sunny was left empty.

————————————

Brainstorm was in big trouble. And possibly the entire Lost Light. And maybe the universe. The good news is his portal machine worked! The bad news is it was now pulling in random things from a random space in the multiverse. This would be a great opportunity to study it, unfortunately the stability of the thing was questionable. That is to say the portal was currently beginning to implode.

“Brainstorm, what are you doing!?” Preceptor skidded into the room right as he heard the snapping and crackling of something that probably shouldn’t be making that sound.

“Oh, nothing. It’s fine! It’s fine. I just need to- oh that’s not good. Actually do you mind helping me shut this down before it destroys the entire ship?”

“You’re going to be the death of all of us-” right as he began to walk toward the vortex, a screaming clatter of something came speeding out of it. On closer inspection, it seemed to be the corpse of a human.

“Oh, well, that’s new.” Brainstorm oh so helpfully commented. Just after another being came from the portal, also screaming but not quite as dead. Another followed, this one with a complete and utter look of annoyance on his face.

“What in the- Brainstorm, what did you do?” Ratchet entered, as did Ultra Magnus.

Soon there was an array of things entering the room. Aside from the array of random objects, there was a large blue organic followed by an another human wearing a black suit, then large possibly techno organic. Four other small people shot out shortly after.

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT NOW!” Ratchet ordered.

“Oh why didn’t I think of that- oh wait, I did, and I COULD USE SOME HELP!” Together they pulled on a comically large mad scientist like lever affixed to the portals control panel. As quick as it had arrived the portal was gone, though what- or who- it had just pulled in were gaining their bearings.

“Hahahaha! That was fun!” One of the humans, one wearing a yellow hat with a red line across it, put his hand on his head and looked around. It took him a second to notice, but when he finally realized where he was the man yelled, “WOAH! Cool! This place is huge!”

“It seems to be some sort of… metal building. A giant workstation perhaps.” The blue man said thoughtfully.

“Well I say we get out of here! I don’t want to be around when we find out why this place needs to be so big!” A long-nosed human whisper shouted.

“What, like those freaky statues?” The very annoyed man gestured at Brainstorm, Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, and Preceptor, who were all standing completely still. That is, until Rodimus showed up.

“Brainstorm, I heard yelling, is there a fight? Without me?” He strolled in casually, not looking at the floor, and instead focusing on his crew who were all staring at him. “What? What did I do?”

“That. Is. AWESOME!” Something from the floor shot up at Rodimus’s face. “Are you a robot? Can you shoot lasers? Do you eat metal?!” Somehow, someway, there was an ecstatic human right in front of his optics.

“Luffy! Get down from there!”

“Woah. So, care to explain? Anyone?”

“We are not robots, we are Cybertronian.” Ultra Magnus automatically stated.

“Cool!” ‘Luffy’, as his friend called him, somehow managed to launch himself on top of Rodimus’s helm. “Is there any food here?”

“Luffy! Damnit-” Another of the humans, the one in the suit, jumped. Accept when one would normally begin to succumb to gravity and fall back down, he took another step in the air and kept going. “You are so reckless!” The man tackled Luffy off Rodimus and they both began to plummet down to the ground- a height deadly to something so small.

“Sanji, let me down! I want to talk to the robot!”

“How about you shut up and come up with a plan before you get us all killed!” The moment they jumped off, Ratchet was already in motion. He was able to dive behind Rodimus to catch the two, but as he slid on the ground to save them ‘Sanji’ jumped off the air again and landed perfectly safe.

“I… I can’t even begin to explain this.” He admitted in a completely defeated tone, now chassis down on the floor.

“Do they all move?” A small voice whispered from the group still standing where the portal once was.

“I hope not.” Another replied.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” Brainstorm said calmly.

“I don’t think anyone could have predicted this.” Ultra Magnus put his servo on his helm. The two that had just survived a deadly landing like it was nothing walked back to their group- one much more unhappy than the other.

“Sorry about him. He does this a lot.” The annoyed green haired man glared at both of them.

“Oh, like you’re any better moss head.”

“Oh yeah? At least I didn’t jump in the face of a giant robot!”

“Yeah, cause you’d get lost on the way there!”

“You take that back-“

“STOP IT!” Half of the new arrivals shouted at the same time. One orange haired girl stepped up to comfort the bickering duo.

“This is not the time to argue! We’re kind of… we- look!” She gestured at, well, everything. Everyone else seemed to silently agree.

“Greetings visitors from another world! Welcome aboard the Lost Light!” Brainstorm announced with a flashy arm movement.

“Hey, I’m the captain, I get to welcome people into the ship!”

“You’re a captain?! Is this a pirate ship? Are you giant robot pirates?!” Luffy shouted in awe, though still in the arms of Sanji, who promptly dropped him.

“He said he was ‘Cybertronian’ bro. Not a robot.” The probably techno organic chastised.

“Psh, whatever.” Luffy got himself to his feet.

“We are not pirates.” Ultra Magnus said very sternly. “We are on a perfectly legal exploratory expedition.”

“Oh, bummer.” He glanced around once again. Apparently deciding now was a good time, he introduced himself. “My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy smiled brightly and giggled, either ignoring or disregarding his friends facepalms.

“Well, I’d say this was a great success!” Brainstorm cheered to himself. “Who knew that was possible! I really am a genius.”

“And who are you?” ‘Moss head’ sneered at him. “Who are any of you? This is weird.”

“Well, if I’m allowed to introduce my own ship this time, my name is Rodimus Prime, captain of the Lost Light!”

“Hang on, this is your ship? How did you build something like this, it looks like it’s straight outta Vegapunk’s lab! What part of the world are we in anyway?” The blue hair techno organic asked, putting his oversized hand on his strangely shaped chin.

“Space, my friend. We’re in space. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if anything living would make it through that portal. Looks like it’s got about a 9 out of 10 survival rate which is better than most multidimensional portals I’ve seen. That is to say I’ve never seen one before, because I built the first one. Just now. No need to congratulate me.” Ignoring Brainstorm’s blatant narcissism, the of new arrivals looked absolutely flabbergasted by this information.

“We’re in space? Like, space space? Outer space?” Luffy asked with eyes wider than any moon, a big bright burning ball of excitement building in his chest.

“I assume you’ve never been off your planet before?” Perceptor asked. Luffy didn’t respond this time. He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, though his crew mates didn’t seem to pay much mind. One or two of them shook their heads in response to the question. “Well, Brainstorm, care to explain what you’ve done here?”

“What I’ve done- well, if you have the mental capacity to understand- I can give you a basic rundown. I’ve designed this portal to reach into alternate dimensions, which have hardly been confirmed to exist other than the dead universe. I’ve been worked steadily on it for a while now, and today I tested it out. It brought these ten organics here as well as some other junk.”

“Brainstorm.”

“Yes?”

“You mean to tell me, you turned on an untested and extremely dangerous machine that could obliterate our entire existence within nanokliks for no reason other than bragging rights? And when it miraculously did work, you pulled in ten random people from an unknown possibly incredibly dangerous world that could have also imploded our entire existence?”

“Yes that about sums it up.” Perceptor’s optic twitched, but as it seemed time was moving a bit too fast for him to start lecturing. The corpse on the floor began to move, slowly at first, and then in a sharp practiced motion it popped up on its feet.

“Yohohoho! I think I passed out for a second there!” The skeleton looked around. “Oh. I definitely passed out. No bones about it!” The apparently not corse laughed to himself.

“Cool! I didn’t think those human stories about corpses coming back to life were real!” Rodimus said with a childlike playfulness.

“They’re not.” Ultra Magnus argued bluntly.

“Oh, I am a skeleton. It’s a long story. Say, Luffy, what is going on?”

“We got sucked through a portal and now we’re talking to giant robot guys.”

“Oh okay.” The skeleton nodded, and then quickly scurried to where three of the other humans (and animal thing?) were huddled.

“Well, remind me to change that to a 10 out of 10 survival rate!”

“I feel like introductions are in order here…” Perceptor stated, “I’ll go first. My name is Perceptor. I’m a scientist. Now, you.” He gestured at Brainstorm.

“Well, if you insist. I am Brainstrom. Genius inventor of the machine that brought you all here.”

“I am the duly enfor- ah, I mean Ultra Magnus. I try to keep the peace around here.”

“You know me, I’m Rodimus.” He nudged Ratchet. “It’s your turn, doc.”

“Fine. I’m Ratchet. Retired head medical officer.“

“Cool names!” Luffy, having sprung back up, was jumping up and down. “This is my crew, the Strawhat Pirates!”

“Roronoa Zoro. Soon to be greatest swordsman and second hand man.” ‘Moss head’ introduced himself. The orange hair girl stepped out of the group.

“I’m Nami, the navigator.” The long nose man shakily emerged after her.

“I am commander Usopp! Best sniper in the world! I’m also the leader of one thousa-“

“Don’t even start.” The suit wearing man stepped up. “Sanji. I’m the crew’s chef.” The animal like thing approached from behind another crew member.

“Um, my name’s Chopper. I’m the doctor.” He tapped his hooves together nervously. A woman, one who hasn’t said much until now, patted the hat on his head in a compassionate manner.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archeologist.” She smiled sweetly and quickly got out of the way of the blue haired inhuman human man rushing to the front.

“Name’s Franky!” He struck a strange pose. “A SUPER good shipwright!” The skeleton stepped up beside him and did a short bow.

“My name is Brook. I am lucky to be the musician of this crew. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he stood up the large blue man stood beside him.

“I am Jinbe, the helmsman. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” He bowed deeply.

“Now that we did that, do you guys have any food?” Luffy asked immediately and without hesitation.

The fifteen of them stood in Brainstorm’s mildly disfigured lab space, each with very different thoughts running through their heads. A new world, a new people, things most on the Lost Light never even imagined possible. From then on, the world got a little more chaotic.

[mimiwrites2000]

Hello!

My name is Mimiwrites2000, you can call me mimi.

I’ve been writing in the Attack on Titan fandom since 2020, and I mainly write AruAni.

I have all of my fanfictions on Archive of Our Own, and some of them here on Tumblr.

I have one ongoing fanfiction, called Legends, and it’s my pride and joy.

Anyway, here is a masterlist of all my fanfiction up to February 2024.

Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Legends {M}

Archive of Our Own

A legend that was unveiled by a miracle.

These miracles sometimes are better forgotten, left in the past where no one can go back. But Armin engraved his name into the folds of her mind, tear a piece of him and gave it to her, following her everywhere. Annie ran away, to the edge of earth, but when she closed her eyes, she saw his blue eyes. They danced around a legend that made them encounter each other over and over again, a time in crimson blood, a time in a cold night under the stars, and a time in an embrace.

everything happens for a reason

The Last One To Reach The Tree {G}

Archive of Our Own

If the tree could speak, it would’ve cried. If the tree could speak, it would’ve sobbed and wailed and mourned humanity, mourned the death of humanity in every human’s heart. If the tree could speak, it would’ve begged to be burnt, to be cut down. Mikasa was eager to meet with Eren, she was eager to reunite with him. And so was Armin.

Post Canon story about the theory that Armin is the last one to reunite with them.

Attack On… Podcast! {T}

Archive of Our Own

As the Attack on Titan series comes to an end after ten years, the cast is reunited in hosting a podcast, talking about their times on the set of the filming, their friendships, and all in-between. And well, shenanigans are inevitable.

Attack on Titan acting AU, as the cast host a podcast, and interview the rest of the cast.

What Does White Mean? {M}

Archive of Our Own

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

Heal Me, and I'll Heal you {T}

Archive of Our Own

Annie decided that she had enough of fighting And as she waits on the ship, watching the ocean, she visits memories from years ago, up until the night before, when she saw him for the last time. He waved at her, with a shiny, silver ring around his finger. They were separated with an unspoken promise, and healing wounds

A fanfic about Annie giving Armin her ring, and all the events leading up to it~

*Chapter 131 and up spoilers

I Don’t Want to Let You Go {T}

Archive of Our Own

The rumbling started, titans were stomping people to death all around the world. The world was ending, But they were on a sailing ship, trying to save whatever they could reach, they were on the desperate mission of stopping Eren. But Armin found himself tangled in Annie's embrace, inhaling her scent, feeling her warmth.

Chapter 131 one-shot.

When I Was a Human {M}

Archive of Our Own

The boat sailed in the middle of the ocean, trapped within a repetitive blue patterns of waves and glistens of sun rays adorning them. On it sat two lost souls, that forgot what it was like to be human.

Armin told Annie many tales when she was in the crystal, however, there was one story he never got to finish… Annie asks about it, and Armin finds himself in a swirl of memories of how he was revived four years ago…

Betrayal {M}

Archive of Our Own

They met in an alley, a narrow, foul-smelling passageway, in the middle of a cold night A few months later, he found himself walking to that place, the place where his life crumbled and was reborn, and just like last time, she was waiting for him. a journey of lies and deception, desires and emotions

What If I Kiss You? {G}

Archive of Our Own

‘What if I kiss you?’ He asked, and she answered.

“My Love” {M}

Archive of Our Own

On a boat, in the ocean, when the sun is the only witness of their love, the only one who knows about their secret.  Content, joy, satisfaction, a combination they never thought they could live, until they met each other, until they loved each other.

tell me, what’s on your mind? {G}

Archive of Our Own

On one particular evening, at a dinner for the ambassadors, the serene night was too loud. Her chest closed on her lungs and her thoughts fogged her mind. Her thoughts weren’t the only thing troubling her.  On that night, her father joined her silence, and pieces fell into place.

A fanfiction about Annie’s feelings, and her father helping her accept them~

Blue Meeting Blue {G}

Archive of Our Own

When Annie looked in his eyes, the world stopped spinning, time froze, air halted. The waves in the ocean quietened, the forests' rustles ceased, and the wind subsided. For a moment, peace engulfed the world, the chaotic place wrapped in a fragile silence. To witness the blossoming love in the youthful hearts.

the day of their wedding was finally here, Armin and Annie, the world waiting for them, and they were ready to face it, as one. Husband and wife. a one-shot about Aruani wedding, based on fanart by Bella (_superspicy on twitter)

Red Eyes See Grey World {M}

Archive of Our Own

He realized that he knew the ocean long ago. When he first looked into her eyes. She held the ocean and the sky in them, colliding and harmonizing to the waves. If only he knew, he would’ve held the ocean in his hands, never letting it go. But she was slipping away from him, Away she drifted, far from him. Wars never held happy endings. But the universes shifted and clashed. The constellations reformed in the sky, and life was reborn again. And maybe, just maybe, he might be able to fullfil his promise to her, in another life, in another universe.

When Champagne Is Served {M}

Archive of Our Own

His feet glide through the hall, meandering between fancy dresses and tuxedos, a shiny tray in his hand. The servant of the Leonhart’s mansion, at yet another annual ball. But then the grandiose gates are opened.

She steps in, shoulders back, chin high.

He looks away, a smile pulling at his lips.

all the things that could have been {M}

Archive of Our Own

There’s a first for everything. A numb mind and a loose body. A light head, free of conflicts and thoughts. But a blessing only lasts for short, fleeting moments, before intruding parasites attacked his mind, bringing him back to himself. An invader of far-fetched wishes and unrealistic hopes, circling around a person far away from his reach.

A story of Armin drinking with his friends for the first time while they were in Marley, Annie not leaving his mind~

Trust {G}

Archive of Our Own

A one shot about Armin and Annie finally having a moment after they met in chapter 126

*spoilers for chapter 126

Kiss (Blue) {G}

Archive of Our Own

*spoliers for chapter 125 Armin had set off with Gabi by his side, trying to catch up with Connie, who wants to feed Falco to his Mother's titan form. However, on their way, they meet with someone...

Continue On Being You {G}

Archive of Our Own

It could take him years to compose imaginary symphonies in his head, but one speck of reality to break it all. Four years are enough to change a person from the inside out, but the core might not change, the core might be as solid as a crystal, if the person continues on being themselves.  For four years. He was trapped in his mind. She was caged in crystal. But the shields will break off, and the two oceans will collide.

A fic about Armin finding Annie after she breaks out from the crystal~

A Quiet Witness {M}

Archive of Our Own

A candle sees more than it could ever tell. And as it witnesses the lifetime of two miserable souls, maybe some stories are better left untold. 

A story about Armin Arlert and Annie Leonhart... and a candle.

Fire and Rain {M}

Archive of Our Own

Fire Igniting from within herself Rain Pouring, cold on her skin And just like any other human, she has a limit as well. She cries, on their bed, alone. Until the door creaks open, and he walks in. Annie is facing a new feeling that she never experienced before, jealousy, and her insecurities only fuel it. However, Armin knows exactly how to blow these insecurities away. And so he does.

If The Stars Could Speak {T}

Archive of Our Own

One life time is not enough. Maybe two or three. They would relive their lives, over and over again. As long as they met again, under the same sky, beneath the same stars. But the stars sometimes opted to play, and one time, the stars entertained them being enemies in one of those lives. However, it is said that fate can pivot the stars malicious plots, deciphering them and blowing them apart in the vastness of the black sky. With a careful eye at the clear sky, reading between the glimmering dots, fate found the way to bring them together, where they belonged: by each other’s side, in that life, and every following one.

This is a two chapters fanfic, written by mimiwrites2000 and XianKar, it's a part of the Summer Fic Exchange (July - 2021), under the prompt: Stargazing in a Field

This Is Goodbye {G}

Archive of Our Own

He decided that today was the day. The day he'd turn a new page, a new beginning, and start over. And for someone to head into a new path, they might need to let go of their past.

This is goodbye.

‘stop saying my name like that’ {G}

Archive of Our Own

She looked around the room, as if she wanted confirmation from anyone or anything around her, to confirm that what she was hearing was true. Her eyes darted at the bookshelves, at the wooden chairs, at the photo frames, at the bottle of wine on the desk— but they didn’t speak, they just watched her bleed out.

That Christmas and That Necklace {G}

Archive of Our Own

It was Armin’s first ever Christmas, and for Annie, it was her very first one after the war. To say the least, they both were looking forward to spending this occasion together. Faste But, if there was something they learnt from the many wars of army and wars, was that nothing goes as planned. And that Christmas was no exception.

[kaonarvna]

An Insecure Line

(written by kaonarvna)

This fanfiction short story contains the characters: Zack Fair; Sephiroth; Genesis Rhapsodos; Angeal Hewley.

Summary: Following the mass desertion that went with Rhapsodos, everyone in SOLDIER has been stretched too thin for Zack to be trained on his non-combat responsibilities as FIRST. When asked by a THIRD for training support, not knowing what to do, he goes upstairs to the 51st to ask Lazard for guidance. He finds Sephiroth there instead, glued to his PHS in one of his "moods".

There are no explicit ships intended, or shipping terms in use (though I'd call it sephesis-coded). There are no content warnings that I can think of that may apply here. This fic is the result of this poll, which I put up last month. This could be considered "hurt/no comfort", "light angst", or "emotional angst". It's been about five years since I've written fanfiction, so if there are any posting/tagging conventions I'm missing, don't hesitate to get in touch!

Excerpt below the cut! The full piece is easily accessible by the AO3 link.

An Insecure Line (Zack ; Sephiroth ; Genesis ; Angeal)

Brittle bird-bones crack and split as the tip of a standard-issue SOLDIER’s blade twists into the final staggered needlekiss’ fragile skull. Its screeches of disquiet cease, as do the struggling half-beats of wings pinned beneath heavy boots. He twists—as his father once showed him to do with fresh-caught fish—until every quivering reflex stops. The brain froths, scrambled beyond recognition inside its cracked open bone shell. It’s the quickest way, the most humane way, Zack thinks—the faster the better. Making sure every part of a dying creature is gone is the most compassionate way. Empathy for the fish, empathy for the beast that spears man and fish to feed itself, honour for the SOLDIER.

“Another one down—!” he laughs to himself, pulling his blade free and wiping off the perceived filth. The monster’s gore dissolves into the air, as does the warm Western Continent sun, the great trees that filtered its evening light into dancing crescents on the faux forest floor. It disappears procedurally—first the target, then the environmental hazards, the skybox, the light itself—a too-pleasant victory jingle returns the party to reality. Another simulation completed. Zack stands in that blue-grey room with the half-dozen perspiring SOLDIER in his company. They all smell of worn leather, droplets of sweat glistening in the overbearing fluorescent lights.

Thick black wool wicks away the beads of sweat dripping down from Fair’s hairline and underarms. “That was a good one!” He exclaims, laughing as he looks among his subordinates, stretching his arms up into the air and breathing without tension. Breathing, without worry for the too-real creatures poised to kill. The SECONDs, the THIRDs, they too ease, sighing and chattering amongst themselves. In a moment, the exercise’s outcomes project onto the wall, ranking SOLDIER beside SOLDIER for performance: harm dealt, harm received, weapon used, rank, improvement from the previous instance should they have run the sim before.

Zack is on top—FIRST, the only one in the room, surrounded by no-longer-peers and friends that have become inferiors. It’s strange. It shouldn’t be different, he thinks, but it is. It has only been a few weeks since the bittersweet promotion and the change is all too tangible. Yet, he stands just as everyone else does, watching the exercise information light up in the projection. He smiles at others’ progress and his own alike.

After pleasant congratulations and the one-armed hugs and shoulder-pats a good man exchanges with comrades, he steps out of the training facility into the forty-ninth’s open corridors. That corporate air conditioning hits his sticky skin with a revitalising chill, and he lingers, re-orienting himself.

“Hey—Zack?” A familiar voice peeps from behind, having caught the sim door before it closed. “Do you have two seconds?” The boy takes off his helmet—he recognises him, a THIRD, young and new.

Zack knows that he should know his name. It escapes him. “Yeah! Yeah? What’s up?” Turning to face the boy, he wipes the stickiness from his brow, though only smears it. He hardly notices. Leather gloves are not the most absorbent.

“I know you’ve only just got the promotion—and congrats, man! Sir! Really—” he begins, tucking that helmet between his arm and torso. “But—do you think you could put together a training regimen for me? Sorry if it’s inappropriate to ask—Genesis usually oversaw my cohort, and I haven’t had a chance to talk to Deusericus about it, and—” the words spill out of his mouth one after another, between half-exhausted breaths. Zack wonders how he might have fared against real and less predictable beasts.

“No no! It’s cool, it’s cool, don’t apologise,” Zack laughs, popping a hand on the boy’s padded shoulder. He’s probably the same age as when Zack started out, he thinks. “I’m flattered! And ah—don’t call me ‘sir’, I’ll...I don’t know how that’s supposed to go—”

“That’s okay, that’s okay! Sorry if it’s a bad time, sir—Zack—I know everyone’s spread thin because, you know, and now you’re FIRST now that there’s, well—"

It stings, connecting the recent waves of desertion to his promotion, but Zack keeps smiling. “I’ll talk to Lazard and see what I can do! Don’t worry about it, it’s cool—” he reassures, watching as the other bodies begin exiting the training room. They exude a mix of pride and complaints, as always. The swarm wanders towards the showers, that click-click of strap buckles getting undone just as loud as their footsteps and laughter. The THIRD glances over his shoulder at them, and Zack nods in their direction. “I’ll take care of it.”

Smiling wearily, the kid thanks him before turning to join his peers, half-jogging a few steps and calling out before being absorbed into their bubble. Fair lets out a held breath, decompressing, watching them go. He pulls out his PHS—19:30. That was the last training run of the day. “He’s usually still here...” he mutters to himself, “Might be able to catch him.”

The lift always takes too long, and the cool stairwell air is a treat after a full day training inside. He takes the steps three at a time, despite the weakness in his quads. Legs are important, he reminds himself, he can never skip an opportunity to work legs.

Emerging on the fifty-first after scanning his keycard, the space is black, lit only by the faint green glow of the emergency exit lamps. It’s lifeless. Zack waves with both arms towards the ceiling, waiting for the automatic lights to flicker on. With a chirp and a whine, they slowly warm. The floor has always felt too sparse for its own good—the few comfy chairs; extra-long sofas for lounging away from the rest of SOLDIER; the small library with Genesis’ work still scattered across the tables and couch in a “productive mess” he’s not allowed to touch; the couple of pristine PCs set aside for admin work; and Lazard’s office. “Please be in, please be in...” he begs aloud, speed walking towards those heavy doors.

He knocks. Silence.

He knocks again. Silence.

The door gives when he nudges it forward.

Pushing them open, he’s not surprised to see the big lights are off. The golden glow from the director’s plant-lights illuminates the shuttered window blinds, the desk, and the comfy chair that often gets dragged between the workstation and desk. It all confirms that the director is out. Not even the display screen on the wall or the green lights lining the floor are on.

“That’s okay!” he quietly reassures himself, “I’ll try again tomorrow, and—” Zack pivots to leave, before spotting a pair of green dots peering at him from a shadow obscuring the overgrown palm beside the wall. The way it gleans, the same way a cat’s does when you catch it in a dark alley—he knows it well. “Oh! Hey—!” he joins Sephiroth in the room. Lights flicker on once he steps beyond the threshold. “How long have you been in here? In the dark?”

Sephiroth says nothing, raising a gloved finger to his lips, shushing. His other hands pins the PHS to his face, obscuring almost all of its light.

(read the rest here!)

[craftylittlenerd]

Snippet Sunday

Tagged by @westernlarch for another snippet Sunday, or more like snippet Monday as I got to spend the day with the family yesterday 😁 Tagging @kalliesa @luciferbecons @partofmycharm @misseffect  @serendipitys-teapot @hauntedjellyfishtraveler to participate if you are so inclined.

So I have a few projects in the works and I debated on weather I post a snippet from one of my fanfiction or from one of my original works. After some debate I figured I post a snippet from my oldest fic that I’ve been taking a break on as I’ve hit a bit of a road block with it. 

Working Title: New Life “So, you’ve been staying here with the Commander?” Castis asks outright; he was never a man to beat around the bush.“ Until she wakes up, I don’t...we’re in this together... I...”  Castis nods understandingly, “Towards the end of your mother's illness, I never left her side.”  His voice grows soft as he remembers Laurus, how Corpalis Syndrome robbed her of being able to do the simplest of tasks. The subtle shake of her hands, the smallest stutter or slurring of words in her otherwise eloquent speech, the weakness she felt in her body. It was too late before either of them realized that these were all early symptoms and not just signs of old age. The disease took its time, taking Laurus away from him slowly over two and a half years, the preventive medication barely doing anything but prolonging the inevitable. Robbing them of their golden years together.  Garrus remembered how his dad hovered over his mother every chance he got while he and Sol had to coax their dad into simple tasks like eating or sleeping. Now the tables were turned, and it was his father’s turn to do the same to his son. Castis could see the weariness on his son’s face, how his clothes fit loosely around his frame.  “I cannot fault you for wanting to do the same, but I will fault you for the smell. When was the last time you showered? Garrus felt like he was thirteen all over again with that question and the look, spirits his father knew how to make him feel like a child.  His father grined, knowing he’d gotten Garrus right where he wanted him. “Wash up; your sister will be a bit longer with the doctor. Then we can go grab a bite to eat.”  Garrus looks around, unsure of what to do or even if he could use the shower in Shepard’s hospital room. He didn’t have a clean change of clothes either, not having returned to the Normandy in the last few days. Miranda and Dr. Chakwas were always able to shoo him away when Shepard was heading into another surgery. Even primarch Victus was able to persuade Garrus out of the Commander's hospital room while one of the other crew members visited.  Usually, he returned to the Normandy to shower, if not quickly buff his plates before changing his clothes. Sometimes he was able to get some sleep; other times, Garrus had enough of an appetite to eat a small meal.  When someone couldn’t visit, or no surgery was needed, Garrus stayed by Shepard’s side no matter how much the staff grumbled. He didn’t want her to wake up alone thinking she was resurrected again; it was her biggest fear. Something Shepard had confided in Garrus early on if not Cerberus, then the Alliance, or worse, some other fringe group would try it again.  It made her uncomfortable in hospitals — even the med bay on her own ship made her skin crawl. Yet she pushed that down anytime any of her crew was injured, or doctors at Huerta needed supplies they wouldn’t otherwise be able to get in Reaper-controlled territory. It's why Garrus never left because he knew Shepard would never leave any of them. Even when Ashley was in the hospital and the two women were at odds, Shepard still looked out for her friend.  “I can’t; there’s no one...I don’t have...” Garrus stammers as his father tossed him a small travel tote.   “I made a call, was able to pull a favor and get you an overnight bag, and your pilot friend Joker said he’d be by momentarily.”   One of these days, Garrus told himself he’d stop being surprised by his father. Today wasn’t one of those days, and tomorrow wasn’t looking any better. Garrus looked at the bag he had just caught mid-air like it was some puzzle to be solved. Upon opening it, he found a change of clothing, some toiletries, a sanding stone and buffing brush, and a few other needed items.  “I’ll watch over her until you’re done washing up. She won’t be alone, son I promise.” Garrus nodded and went into the small bathroom with a mundane shower hoping to get enough hot water to drown the ache in his muscles.   Once Castis heard the bathroom door latch, he pulled a necklace out of his pocket. The slim golden chain of turian design had a simple locket holding an image of his beloved. “Laurus, what do I do? You were always better at these things than me.” Sighing, Castis sat in the all too familiar uncomfortable hospital chair, watching over the woman who captured his son’s intrigue. Castis wasn’t ready to call it love yet. He’d only heard Garrus’s side of things. Made the connections during those long conversations when Garrus first arrived back home. He even approved of the human commander; she was more turian than the two of them combined. Castis knew the feelings were mutual, Victus had told him as much when they talked that morning. There were rumors of a taboo hand-holding incident with a high-ranking Reaper Advisor and the famous Commander on Menae.  Though here she was frail and in a hospital bed — Commander Jane Shepard of the Normandy, first human Spectre, hero of the Citadel, conqueror of the Collectors, Savior of the Galaxy. Her image on the extranet and vids didn’t do Shepard justice, painting her as a larger-than-life figure for humanity to live up to.  Something Castis was sure even she couldn’t live up to. Maybe it would have been better if she had died in battle — to die for the cause, be the legend she had been built up to be. An honor for any family. What more could the Alliance ask for? Yet what kind of world would she be waking up to? What impossible pedestal would she be put upon? All of that didn’t matter to Castis, what mattered was his son, as selfish as that was — but he knew Garrus. No matter where Shepard went, he knew Garrus would follow.  “I’m not good at these things. Garrus's mother was the delegate and worked in the diplomatic corps back on Palaven. She turned down a council position after the kids were born, wanted to give them some form of stability. Something Citadel life doesn’t always allow. I know my work didn’t allow that even after joining C-Sec. Duty always came first. It’s the turian way, but Laurus could always find the balance.” 

Castis sighed again as he looked down at the locket in his hand. “You two would have gotten along. From what I’ve been told, you're a strong, confident woman, eloquently spoken, and have a wicked sense of humor — all things my Laurus was.”A hitch in Casti's voice. “If not for you, I have a feeling I would have buried a child and my wife. It’s a debt I can never repay, yet I owe you my thanks, Commander.  You brought my son back to our family. He was able to say goodbye to his mother,  but if you could just do one more impossible thing and wake up.”  Castis leaned over Shepard’s bed and placed the locket next to her head, pinning it to the pillow so it wouldn’t get lost.“Laurus, watch over our son’s mate. Help the commander find her way back to the world of the living. I’ll watch over our boy — make sure he keeps both feet on the ground.”  Garrus had exited the bathroom, washed and dressed in the items his father had brought him. The clothing hung looser than Castis liked, his brave child wasting to nothing. Still, he didn’t blame Garrus; he knew too well what it was like to wait in this hell. How it aged your soul and left you a shell of who you once were. 

[seven-meds]

Hello! I love your work, man. It seriously intrigued me to see all of the characters that deeply impacted me from your lens!

I have a question regarding a particular ask of Lou/Arthur writings. Is there anywhere I can find it? I am just really drawn to the pairing.

Either way, thank you!

-👁️

(Sorry this took some time to answer, I had to gather a lot of links.)

Thank you so much! I appreciate the compliment immensely, it’s extremely uplifting.

As for my fanfiction, it is compiled here on my website. It’s not archived by ship or content (though both are listed before each entry), so here is a link list to the Lou/Arthur pieces:

Pose

Reveal

Chess

Away

Glass

Undress

To understand the dynamic you need an outline of the AU. I have been meaning to write it out more formally, but since I haven’t, here is a transcript of a description I wrote out for someone else: 

“Arthur kills himself on the Murray Franklin show in 1981. His death is filmed and broadcasted, but is slowly wiped from public memory. Two decades later, while browsing some obscure forum, Lou finds the footage of Arthur's suicide and becomes obsessed with it and obsessed with Arthur - his life, his death, everything about him. He finds scans of police xeroxes of his journal, the autopsy report, crime scene photos. He pours over fluorescent-lit pictures of Arthur's body stripped of his suit, of his face cleaned of paint, of the bullet hole in his skull. Lou develops a voyeuristic connection to this man he has only seen in death.

The intensity of his obsession feeds reality until Arthur begins to regrow within his coffin. Skin re-wraps around muscle and muscle clutches bone. His hollow chest refills with organs. Lou isn't aware of this when he drives across the country to visit his grave, to bring back something he can own. So when he pulls open the lid of Arthur's coffin with dirt-covered hands he's surprised to find a living man inside. Beneath him, Arthur smells Lou's sweat-slicked body before opening his eyes to see him for the first time, outlined against the sky and framed by the crude hole he'd dug.

Lou's surprise wouldn't transform into fear or even confusion. He'd be strangely unquestioning. He'd feel a tingle up and down his spine and a warmth pouring through his brain - the same physical reaction he has when he comes across a grotesque crime scene. His relationship with Arthur would contain elements of his relationships with everyone else who comes into contact with him, but because Arthur is literally constructed from his own thoughts he'd be able to reach a closeness with him that he could never reach with others.

Arthur would be scared, disoriented. At first he'd think he'd woken up in hell. He wouldn't question Lou's existence until much later. For a while all he'd feel is gratitude toward this strange but handsome man taking care of him, almost fawning over him. Once he began to consider Lou's actions and motives he'd be too wrapped up in the elation of being consumed and the intensity of what they shared.

While it may seem like an absurd pairing at first, what makes the idea of them being together interesting is Lou's voyeuristic, obsessive nature clashing with Arthur's desire to be seen and known. Being seen and known by Lou would be exhilarating in its intensity, but frightening in its predation. There would be a lot of emotional push and pull, a lot of sickness.”

I don’t write as often or as much as I wish I did, but thank you for the interest regardless! I apologize for the haphazard nature of the archive, coding solely in HTML and CSS does not allow for much automation. 

Thank you again!

[i-love-shoutoko-so-much]

NEW SEROROKI FIC!

Hello, world! I am back writing BNHA ship fanfictions!

I finally manage to finish and post my last Seroroki fanfic that I started... In September?!!! In my defense, I had a big thing to solve so I needed to stop writing (I mean, I still tried some words some days). ANYWAY, here we go!

Chapter 12: SERO/TODOROKI - Together by chance and forever

Summary:  After running away from home with no plan in mind, the omega, Shouto, gets help from Sero, an alpha who is the complete opposite of his father.

READ IT HERE!

It had been hours since Shouto wandered non-stop. His legs ached, his mouth was dry and his stomach was begging for food. But he had no way to satisfy his needs. He ran away from home with only the clothes on his back. At least the night was warm. Dark, lonely and scary, but warm.

He didn't know what time it was, but he knew it was quite late, as he hardly saw people on the street. Even most of the bars were closed or not very busy. Not that Shouto felt any comfort in the ones that were working. On the contrary, he wanted as much distance from drunk people as possible. Being so pitiful – and being an omega, to top off his unhappiness –, he would be an easy target.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Shouto allowed himself to stop for the first time since leaving home. He leaned against a wall of a closed shop and tried not to think about the pain in his feet and stomach and head. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, but he straightened up with a start, having the impression he almost fell asleep on the spot.

Maybe it was time to find a place to rest. He knew there were homeless shelters in town, but he had no idea where they were. And at that time of night, who knows if I'd get a spot? And even if he did, would it be safe to sleep there with a bunch of strangers?

A shiver went up his spine, and Shouto crouched down, dragging his half-red, half-albino hair on the wall. Despair, fear and weariness seemed to pull him down, and he wanted to curl up and cry. Not that it would help in any way, he reminded himself. He had to get up and keep going, he couldn't show any sign of regret at finally being freed from the hell that was his home. Or rather, his father.

Just thinking about his old man, Shouto gained strength to get back on his feet. He wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Even if he had to cross the entire country walking. Before he took the next step, however, a new chill hit him when he heard joyful voices:

"What's up, pretty thing?"

Shoto slowly turned around, casting a cold stare at the three approaching men, even though his instincts screamed for him to run.

"What's a cute omega like you doing out here alone at this time of night?"

The men smelled of alcohol and drugs, they were thin like Shouto himself, and two of them, a little taller. The omega began calculating what his chances were in a fight.

“If you don't have a place to go, you can stay with us, cutie. We can have a very nice night…”

Shouto didn't let him finish talking. As soon as one of the men tried to put an arm around his shoulder, he grabbed him and punched him in the face hard enough to knock him to the ground.

“Hey!” The other two shouted and tried to hold him back, but Shouto dodged to one side and tripped him. On the third, Shoto grabbed his arms and kicked his private parts without hesitation.

The first one, however, returned to the attack, this time, taking a small penknife from his pocket.

“Looks like we're going to have to teach you manners, little omega.”

Shouto growled, cautiously backing away. He hated being reminded of his second gender. He wanted to rip those people's tongues out so they would never refer to him that way again. However, he began to worry more about getting out of this mess in one piece. His brief hesitation gave the others time to also recover and arm themselves.

Now it wasn't just his instincts that begged him to run.

“Come on, pretty boy. Be good and we won't hurt you, okay?”

As if he was going to hand himself over like that, Shouto snorted before turning around and running desperately. The men shouted after him, but the boy did not check how far away they were. He just moved his legs as fast as he could, knowing how futile his attempt to save himself was, but being unable to just surrender.

He turned a corner at full throttle and saw someone getting on a bus. His eyes gleamed with hope, knowing he could escape if he managed to get into there, but his world spun when his shirt was grabbed, and he was yanked backward, bumping, falling, and rolling across the floor with one of his pursuers.

He felt a cut on his arm, but he couldn't care less. He got on top, but was soon grabbed by the other two and pressed against a wall. One hand tightened around his neck and the other pointed the knife at his face.

“Why did you have to run away from us, pretty thing? Do you want us to cut you up so badly? We can add a few more scars to that cute little face of yours.”

Shouto was paralyzed. Although his hands were free, he couldn't react. He couldn't scream. But even if he could, who would listen?

“ARGH!” One of the men was hit by something and fell on top of the one threatening Shouto. The switchblade scraped across his nose and cheek and onto the floor with the drunks and a backpack.

In the next second, Shoto was pulled from the wall and to behind the broad, protective back of an alpha. His presence was aggressive and exuded in droves, accompanied by a low growl.

“You better get out of here now, you cowards. I just called the police and there's a battalion two blocks away, so they should be here any minute. You know what they do to molesters in jail?”

The three guys staggered to their feet and faced each other hesitantly. The police threat worked, as the man who had the switchblade pointed at Shouto a minute ago snorted in exasperation and backed away, calling his friends with him. The other two didn't look happy, but they also turned and walked away muttering to each other.

The alpha in front of Shoto only stopped growling when he lost sight of them. He ran a hand through the hair that covered the back of his neck and sighed deeply, his shoulders slumped, as if they were lifted by the tension before, and he turned around with a worried smile.

“Are you okay?”

Shouto's legs gave out.

READ MORE HERE!

And if you enjoy my writing, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi!

[lotusthewriter]

Beaming Sunlight

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Rating: G

Relationships: Alphonse & Edward

Characters: Alphonse Elric, Edward Elric; MENTIONED - Winry Rockbell, Pinako Rockbell

Summary: Maybe Al is still asleep. Maybe that’s why he didn’t answer earlier.

Ed sighs in relief, heading to the kitchen to leave the groceries, so he can go to his and Al’s bedroom to check on him.

He stops dead in his tracks.

Near the phone lies…

“... ALPHONSE!”

Word count: 1.225

AO3 / Fanfiction

TRIGGER WARNINGS - flashbacks and implied past character death

DO NOT SHIP THE ELRIC BROTHERS. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

He shouldn’t have left home.

They already had plans to spend the weekend at Rush Valley, only for Alphonse to decline. Which meant he would rather spend the entire weekend alone. Edward knows his brother better than anyone else; Al is the last person to ever want to be alone.

Ed should’ve trusted his gut and not gone with Winry and Granny. Hence why, thanks to Winry’s encouragement, he decided to head back home. Especially after he did try to call Al, receiving no answer from the other end.

After a trip that felt absurdly long, the once Fullmetal Alchemist buys some groceries to make Al some food. He knows he can’t keep babying his brother forever, now that Al is learning how to walk by himself, yet Al was acting so strange last night. He was… distant, sad, and tired. Ed noticed and still ignored it. He can only hope nothing went horribly wrong.

When the Rockbell house is close enough, it feels as though the remaining distance has grown bigger, like he’s in a dream.

And when Ed does arrive at the door, he hesitates.

He doesn’t know why this feels so familiar.

Either way, he goes in.

The house is dark. As in, the curtains must still be hiding the sunlight.

Maybe Al is still asleep. Maybe that’s why he didn’t answer earlier.

Ed sighs in relief, heading to the kitchen to leave the groceries, so he can go to his and Al’s bedroom to check on him.

He stops dead in his tracks.

Near the phone lies…

“... ALPHONSE!”

Ed has dropped the groceries and rushed to him, desperately taking him in his arms. Al looks much worse than he did last night, so, so pale. He looks lifeless, even though his heart is still beating as Ed checks on it.

“Al,” he begs, shaking the other boy desperately, “Al, can you hear me? Al?!”

There’s… a small cough. Eyes that barely open.

“Br… other…?” Al asks, confused. “You’re… back?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

Al, however, shakes his head.

“You… shouldn’t… have.”

He blacks out again.

“Alphonse,” Ed shakes him once more. “Al!”

Nothing.

The older Elric puts a hand on the other’s neck, flinching like it’s boiling.

Shit. He’s really sick.

Al has been sick this entire time and Ed was too stupid to–

No. No, he can’t blame himself. He needs to call a doctor. And of course, he needs to call Winry and Granny to let them know.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Ed promises his little brother, even if he can’t hear him. “You’re going to be okay, Al. I’ve got you.”

Al doesn’t move while Ed carries him to their room.

The latter wants to not cry.

But it’s impossible.

--

… Macaroni.

It smells good.

Simple but tasty.

Al’s vision is blurry, only acknowledging a warm, soft lamp illuminating the room. He’s aware the sun is strong outside, hence why he… didn’t open the curtains…

Wait.

Why is he in bed?

He doesn’t remember coming back here.

The last thing he does remember was the phone ringing downstairs, and him on his way to pick it up. Nothing after that.

If he blacked out, then… who carried him to bed?

Alphonse hears… someone speaking downstairs. Maybe to the phone, because soon enough he can make it to the noise, indicating that the call is over.

Then, he hears said person rushing upstairs.

… sniffing.

Al immediately sits up, which makes his vision darken suddenly. His head feels heavy.

“Hey, easy!” Edward orders, then softly, “Easy.”

He makes Al lie down again, gently.

“Brother, what are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be in Rush Valley?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ed looks terrible, tear-stained. “Are you feeling okay?”

Al hums. “Head hurts.”

“I can tell.” His brother is touching his cheeks, both to check on his temperature, and to make sure he’s there. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Okay.” Ed reveals a plate of macaroni indeed, and he puts it on the bedside table, preparing the fork.

“Brother, I can eat it myself.”

“Oh, after you quite literally passed out? I don’t think so.”

Al gulps, even though Ed doesn’t actually sound angry despite the comment. The former is also too sick to protest, so he allows Ed to help him eat, which brings him back to the days at the hospital. Ed also gives Al a glass of water to take a sip every now and then.

“You’re taking medicine later, okay?” He tells Al. “I called a doctor while you were asleep.”

“Okay.” When Ed gives him another piece of food, Al shakes his head. “I think I’m good.”

“Alright.”

Al nervously looks away from his older brother’s concerned frown, already knowing what he’s going to ask.

“... why didn’t you tell me?”

Alphonse sighs.

“I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Ed is taking one of his hands.

“Al, you could never get in my way.”

“I mean, you were all so excited to go to Rush Valley, I didn’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Al…”

The sick boy is tearing up.

“It’s true, Brother,” Al sobs quietly. “I’m just a burden.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You always have to sacrifice things for me.”

“Well… yeah. But it’s worth it.”

“Why?” Al looks back.

Ed’s eyes are glowing with tears, too.

“Because you’re worth it. And you’re sick, Al. You don’t deserve to be alone for being sick.”

Al contemplates.

“I… don’t have to be useful?”

“No,” Ed answers obviously.

Indeed, it should be obvious, right?

“Al… I know you were taught to believe that while you were an armor,” Ed says like he’s reading his mind. “I know back then you couldn’t focus on yourself. I want you to know that it’s okay to prioritize yourself, especially now that you’re human again. You get to be human now, Alphonse.”

He gets to be human now.

Al cries harder.

Ed hugs him.

The other clings to him like a little kid. It also feels like Ed is hugging him in relief.

Al sniffs, “I-I’m sorry for w-worrying you, Brother.”

Edward sighs. “I’m always going to worry about you, Al. That’s not really your fault.” He pauses. “Just promise me you’re going to tell me when you get sick, okay?”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Good.” Ed is the one that sobs now.

It hits Al, then.

How his brother must have felt finding Al unconscious downstairs. How familiar it must have been for him…

“I’m sorry,” Alphonse repeats.

Ed tenses, probably realizing the meaning of the apology.

Thus, he squeezes Al a little tighter.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

“Yeah,” Al smiles sadly on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That seems to reassure his big brother, since he relaxes for once.

Al doesn’t want to let go. Not yet.

Or ever.

But he doesn’t want to force Ed, either, not with him being sick.

Yet apparently, with his older brother instincts…

“Hey, scoot over, will you?”

“But… I’m sick,” Al argues.

“Well, you need me, Al. I’m not going to leave you.”

“But what if you get sick?”

“I’m gonna be fine.”

“Brother.”

“It’s okay, Al. Really.”

Al hates that he wants Ed to stay and hug him. He hates that he doesn’t want to be alone.

But… It's okay to be human.

For both of them.

[justahopelessaromantic]

Let there be damage ensued and tabloid news and that kind of love (Scene 1: Honey, I laugh when it sinks in)

Fandom: South Park Ships: Bunny (Kenny/Butters) Link to Scene 2 Accompanying Playlist for this Fic on Spotify and Youtube Disclaimer: The author of this work does not condone/endorse the messages, themes, and concepts presented by South Park. Considering how said work is melodramatic gay fanfiction written in theatrical script format of all things, I'm sure this seems reasonable to assume. However, it’s astonishing how many times I've stumbled upon people in this fandom who are wholehearted believers of almost everything the show says, and, quite frankly, I would rather evaporate from this plane of existence than potentially be presumed as a bigot or, god forbid, a centrist. Summary: In the wee hours of the morning, a prayer is answered. (Or:) "Your friends are a fate that befell me / Hell is the talking type / I'd suffer Hell if you’d tell me / What you'd do to me tonight"

SETTING:

An upper-middle-class kitchen in the dark. Blood is everywhere. Two corpses, dressed fairly plainly and modestly while appearing as somewhere in their mid-40s, are spread across the room. The man is bleeding out via gunshot wound while the knife, covered in blood, peanut butter, and jelly, is still sticking out of the woman’s throat. Two PB&J’s rest next to a children’s lunchbox. The crusts on one are only partially cut off. A part of the floor has sticky white stuff splattered here and there. The kitchen window shines a ray of blue/white light into the room that lands right between the window and the woman’s body. The audience can see the stove. The soft sound of its humming is optional, but preferred.

BUTTERS is standing opposite of the man’s body on the other side of the room, holding an overly large shotgun in hand. A beat passes. He‘s still frozen as he drops it, only fliching as it hits the ground. A beat passes. He shakily stumbles over to the window, completely out of it as he awkwardly steps over her body before sinking to his knees in front of the window. He folds his hands on the windowsill before a beat passes. He suddenly remembers himself, shutting his eyes, bowing his head, and bringing one of his hands to his throat. He makes a cross with his hands while reciting the beginning of a Hail Mary prayer like someone who’s memorized it perfectly but is clearly in shock. He speaks with a heavy southern drawl and accent.

BUTTERS

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Now trembling, he laces his fingers together again.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee. Blessed art Thou amongst women, and blessed is the Fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now…and at the hour of our death. Amen.

A beat passes. He begins, sounding unsure of himself, almost like he’s perpetually asking a question.

…Dear lord…Hi…I know we haven’t exactly spoken in a while, and- and I do apologize for that!...I’m sure it must be frustrating, waiting on one of your most devoted followers to check in. Lord knows- Oh, whoops! My bad. I know it drives me up the wall when I text my friends about hanging out over the weekend and then ERIC don’t even say nothing about it until third period. O-or when KENNY calls me back, but it takes him a sec, and then when ya pick up the phone, his throat’s all deep and scratchy and you know he’s not really calling to talk. He’s just calling to show off, ‘cause he knows I can tell he just got some good pussy, I can smell it on his breath through the damn phone line. So then- then he starts going on about how he’d loooove to make plans, and “How was your day, Leo?”, and “Hey, Bun bun, I aced that test you tutored me on, ain't ya just so proud of me?” Fucker. All while that poor girl’s probably just sitting there, waiting for him to just quit his yammering, so she can finally get some fucking beauty sleep!

(Snapping his fingers and pointing)

Or- Or when you call your parents about the list they left you ‘cause it just don’t make any sense, but they only pick up while they’re pulling into the driveway, and by then it's too late and you're practically grounded already, so you’re all like “Well, to hell with it!”. And then you get into even more trouble for saying that, even tho-

(Pausing for a second before remembering himself and folding his hands again)

..Oh…Sorry. I don’t mean to make any excuses or nothing. I know missing your nightly prayers still ain't acceptable behavior…Well, I mean…

(Gesturing vaguely)

I know none of this is acceptable behavior. What I said, what I did. I- I just…

Butters makes a frustrated sigh borderlining between a growl or groan. He continues, voice gradually getting shakier until Butters is barely holding back the waterworks.

Everyone’s coming here for the wake…and my uncles are already real sore, I bet. ‘Bout grandma dying…Can’t imagine how sore they’ll be, seeing what I did to their baby sister!

Butters bursts into tears at the phrase “baby sister”, burying his face in his hands and letting out a few sobs.

And how sore I’ll be if they figure I should-

He lets out a choked sob before taking in a shuddery breath and exhaling slowly to collect himself, voice grave and wavering.

…I know I ain't in any position to ask for nothing, on account of what I’ve done…But if you could just send down something nice…like a sign or something, or…

(Pausing, his tone shifting into something soft)

…or an angel…Yeah…yeah, an angel. The loveliest one you got, won’t you?…One I could trust.

A beat passes. Kenny climbs through the open window, speaking in a muffled voice.

KENNY

(Sly)

Sure you need one, ‘cause I’m looking at-

Butters stumbles back as Kenny lands face first before frantically scrambling to his feet. A beat-up parka covers his mouth and hair. The hood has fur lining the edge. He’s illuminated by the light as he stares at the dead father before slowly lowering his head to meet Butters’s gaze. A beat passes.

BUTTERS

(Overjoyous)

That’ll do!

Butters throws his arms around Kenny’s legs, burying his face in them. Kenny does not move.

KENNY

(In abject horror)

…Holy shit, dude.

(Looking over to the mother’s corpse and pulling down his hood, unmuffling his voice)

…The hell did you get dragged into this time?

BUTTERS

(Cheerily)

Nothing!

KENNY

(Trying to sound casual, but still failing)

Ah, so this is all a morbid hallucination my fried brain cooked up…That checks out.

BUTTERS

(Realizing)

Oh! Well, no, this ain't nothing! This is landing me a one-way ticket to hell. I mean I didn’t get dragged into it.

KENNY

…Meaning…like, Cartman’s not gonna burst out of your dad’s dead body and start waving around his lower intestine in a victory dance? This is all you?

BUTTERS

Yup!

(Letting go of Kenny to sit criss-cross applesauce, peering up at him contently as he starts taking care of evidence)

You see, my mom came in while I was packing lunch for the both of us, and she starts hollering about me being a perv and a homewrecker, and I didn’t quite get what she meant, so I ask her, right? So she whips out this old condom my uncle musta left from yesterday, and I figure she suspects my old man, so I try to explain myself, but she just kept yelling and crying—And, she’s getting real hysterical, Ken! Think she might’a had too much wine at the funeral.

KENNY

(Not looking up from what he’s doing)

Oh, I believe it!

BUTTERS

(Giggling)

So-so she keeps waving that…

(Gradually growing more anxious and uncomfortable before delving into pure rage)

…thing around. And I start explaining even harder and she just keeps dangling that thing in my face and some of my-my stuff starts spilling on the floor. And then I start fretting over stepping in it and how pissed off my dad’s gonna get if I don’t clean up in time, and how he’s almost home, and how mom’s just…holding the proof- I didn’t even have to tell her! She’s fucking holding it! Which means she knows, and she’s just standing there, yelling at me! And…well, by then, she was just yelling at the lord, I think, but she just-

(Trembling and crying tears of anguish and anger)

I just couldn’t-

Kenny whips around at the sound of crying. At some point, Butters has stood up in anger, now facing the audience.

Stop thinking about how I was…

He trails off, roughly whipping under his nose with an open palm and sniffling before hitting the side of his thigh twice in frustration. He balls it into a fist and hits himself a third time, gingerly shaking his head before turning back to face Kenny.

…What’d you call it again?

KENNY

…Assaulted?

BUTTERS

(Aggressively pointing)

Yeah, that! I was- I got assaulted-

Butters stumbles. Before he can collapse onto the floor in violent, furious sobs and gasps, Kenny catches him, holding him up in his arms and keeping a steady grip. Constantly switching from burying his face into Kenny’s arm and screaming in his face, Butters tries to pull himself together multiple times while ranting. He doesn’t fully succeed once. Slightly frantic and at a bit of a loss for words, Kenny doesn’t waver once, though he sounds like he’s just on the cusp of doing so. He just keeps eye contact, fervently hanging onto each word.

He fucking touched me and I was a baby and she was holding it in her fucking. Hands-

Butters stomps his foot on the words “fucking” and “hands”. He lands on Kenny’s foot the second time. Kenny does not let go.

And she still didn’t do shit, and it was a big fucking deal! I mean, it was, right?

KENNY

(Anxiously reassuring)

Yeah, yeah, it was, man.

BUTTERS

And I just thought that somebody should be…someone shoulda been doing something about it, yaknow? And they didn’t! So I did it- I did something.

KENNY

You did. I can tell.

BUTTERS

I told that fuck- I said “I don’t! Care! Somebody has to pay for what happened to me, and if God won’t do it, you will!” And then I shoved it in her throat and I laughed in her face, and then dad storms in screaming his freaking damn head off and I didn’t trust him, I never did-

KENNY

As you should.

BUTTERS

So I watched him go for that fucking belt, the bastard, and then I got pissy, ‘cause he didn’t even have to kill his mom, she croaked all on her own, and the last kid she put her fucking hands on was me, Kenny, me! Not him, me!

KENNY

I know, dude. I know.

BUTTERS

And, and I got the shotgun off the wall and I fired two, I fired two warning shots, and I felt bad, so I cried, and my eyes got blurry, so, so I missed, but I don’t care! I did it. I did it, goddamnit. I did it all on my own, Ken! I did it all by myself!

Butters finally falls apart, hysterically sobbing into Kenny’s shoulder as Kenny pulls him into a bear hug. He rubs circles into Butters’s back, scrunches a hand into his hair, and alternates between shushing him, whispering sweet nothings, and roughly planting kisses all over the top of his head. He starts crying, though he’s notably much more composed than Butters.

KENNY

You did, you did, man! You did it all by yourself, and now everything's gonna be okay, and I’m gonna take care of everything, and I’m so, so, fucking proud of you, Bunny, holy shit, I’m so fucking proud!

BUTTERS

(Looking up and gasping for breath)

Honest?

KENNY

(Letting out a watery cackle)

Fuck yeah, are you kidding me? Dude, I just slit my mom’s throat and booked it.

(Hoisting Butters up and spinning him around)

This shit was performance art, baby!

BUTTERS

(Giggling while slapping Kenny’s shoulders and kicking wildly)

Kenny! Kenny, put me down, ya silly! I’m gonna puke!

KENNY

And miss this lovely view?

BUTTERS

(Slightly annoyed, but still in good spirits)

Kenny!

KENNY

(Chuckling as he sets Butters down and bends over)

Sorry! Shit, sorry. C’mon, hard part’s over, man. Now I get to teach you about all the cool, sexy stuff I learned from the investigative murder porn channel. You know, the one you're such a scaredy cat about.

Butters, now riding on Kenny’s back, piggyback-style, shoves a fist in the air and cheers. Kenny laughs and walks offstage. LIGHTS OUT.

[holylulusworld]

Courting

Title: Courting

Square Filled for @spnabobingo​​​ (Round 6): Opposites attract

Ship: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Rating: Teen

Summary: When a tall and handsome alpha moves to town, you do something no one would expect from an omega.

Warnings: angst, pining, courting, shy reader, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, sick reader, cuddling & snuggling, fluff

Word Count: 2,1 k

A/N: I found a cute headcanon about an omega courting for her chosen alpha on @omegaversethings​​ and turned it into a fanfiction. Thank you again. <3

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​​​

You always were a ‘classic’ omega. Meek, silent and shy. You never dared to talk to a foreign alpha let alone introduce yourself to one.

But here you are, offering the new alpha in your neighborhood a homemade cherry pie. You hope Dean, that’s the name of the alpha giving you sleepless nights, will like it.

“Hi, uh-erm,” you stammer, eyes glued to the ground. “I know how it feels to be new in town and the neighborhood. I made a cherry pie. If you don’t like it, it’s okay.” Before the alpha can say anything you push the container with the pie in his hands to run off.

“What?” puzzled Dean watches you run toward your house. His eyes dart from the pie in his hand back to you struggling to unlock your door. “She just brought me pie…awesome.”

The alpha strolls back inside his house, grinning as you baked him his favorite pie. “Love me some pie.”

Over the next week, you spied on your neighbor. You tried to talk to him again, to give him more gifts but you’re not the only unmated omega in your neighborhood.

Last week Lisa offered her help with decorating his house.

Three days ago, Cassie parade along the street, wearing a skirt leaving little to nothing to your imagination, and right now, Bela tries to hit on Dean, purring for him.

You hate omegas like them as they always get the alphas you like. Being a shy omega, plain and meek, means a disadvantage when it comes to courting for an alpha.

“Not again, Bela-“ you growl low in your throat, rummaging in a paper bag. You bought random things for your chosen alpha to impress and court for him. “This one is mine…”

“Hi,” you whimper catching the tall alpha’s scent. You can feel his intense gaze on you and the heat creeps into your cheeks. “I-I,” for a second you look up at the alpha, give him a soft smile before you place a pair of socks in his hands.

“Hi,” he says but you are halfway on your way toward your house, whimpering as you can still smell his scent linger on your clothes.

“What?” Dean stands outside of his home, looks at the socks in his hands, puzzled. 

“Do you want to finish the kitchen now or not?” Sam asks, poking his head out of the door. “Dean? Is something wrong?”

“Last week she brought me a cherry pie and ran off, today it’s socks, with pie on them,” Dean huffs. “What’s going on?”

Sam starts laughing, he even holds his stomach at his brother’s puzzled expression.

“Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s question. “Did you really not realize you are being courted?”

“I get the pie, but why socks, Sammy? And since when do omegas court for an alpha,” Dean sniffs at the socks, growling low in his throat when he catches your scent. 

“Some omegas do court for an alpha. I just never thought Y/N would do so. She seemed to be shy and meek,” Sam smirks when Dean presses the socks to his chest. “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“Why? I got pie and socks,” Dean grins. “I will just wait for her to come back. Maybe she makes me food too.”

Watching Lisa talk to the alpha again you growl low in your throat. You waited patiently for Dean to come home and now that woman is chatting him up again.

“He’s mine,” you mutter. “Get your hands off my alpha. Can you just not be all over my alpha, all of you.” your hands ball into fists when Lisa giggles and her hands grip one of the tall alpha’s biceps.

“Hi,” you shuffle from one foot to the other, offering the container with food to the tall alpha. You still don’t meet his eyes, not even when he clears his throat.

“You know, you could just talk to me, Y/N,” chewing on your lower lip you lift your head to glance at the tall alpha. You don’t know why he knows your name, but your heart began to race when he said it. “Hi, I’m Dean and I liked your pie. What did you bring me today?”

“Uh-steak and green beans. Potatoes and sauce. I-I wanted to bring you pie too, but I can only carry one container,” nervously babbling you hand Dean the food, ready to run off again.

“Why don’t we share the food?” he offers, smiling softly. “You gave me all those nice things and I would like to-“ you dash toward your house, unbeknownst Dean just wanted to invite you. 

Your heart races and your head starts to spin when you slam the door shut to sink to your knees. 

“He-he talked to me,” you whine, sniffing at your hand. Dean brushed his fingers over your skin, and you can still scent him. 

Another day passes when you sneak toward Dean’s house. Right, when you try to knock he opens the door, offering a soft smile again. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, and you whimper when he says your name. “The food was delicious but I would’ve liked to share it with you. Why don’t you come inside?”

“I-I got a pie for you,” looking at the container with another pie and another pair of socks on top you bite your lower lip. “I hope you’ll like it.”

You try to hand it to Dean to run away once again but he steps outside, cups your face with two fingers to force you to look up at him. “Omega, come inside,” he says, and your heart does somersaults. “I want to share the pie with you. And,” he dips his head to catch your scent, “I cooked. Thought I should invite you over.”

“Y-you cooked,” you squeak when Dean moves his hand to your neck to brush your scenting gland. “I-I don’t know if I should-“

“Come inside, omega,” he says, voice deeper now, more commanding. You immediately drop your gaze and nod silently, knowing he just used his alpha voice. “I want to get to know you better, sweetheart.”

“O-kay…”

After you had dinner with Dean, you decided to think about better gifts. You assume he tried to be friendly and pay you back for your food, but you want him to know you courted for him.

“What can I bring him next?” pinching the bridge of your nose you sigh deeply. “Maybe new socks – no, I already did twice. Underwear – too obvious. Oh, maybe a hairbrush.”

A knock brings you out of your thoughts. You slowly get up, wondering who knocks at your door on a Sunday evening.

Sighing deeply, you make your way to the door, opening it to find Dean on your doorstep.

“Hi,” you gasp when Dean offers you a book and a chocolate box. “I wanted to come over and thank you for the delicious pie and food, and I’m wearing your socks.” He points at his feet. 

“A-are you-“ biting your tongue you look at the gifts in Dean’s hands. “Are you courting for me, alpha?”

“Thought you’ll never ask,” Dean grins, stepping closer to catch your scent. “Can we go out? I’d like to invite you for dinner, Y/N.”

“You are courting for me,” your heart flutters when Dean hands you the gifts. “Yes, uh-please. I’d like to go out with you, Dean.”

“How about Saturday?” he asks, demanding an answer. The alpha makes his interest known when he looks at your mating gland. “Omega?”

“Yes, I got time,” you nod eagerly, gifts pressed tightly to your chest now. 

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at six,” he says, giving you a once over before he nods to himself. “I’ll be seeing you, Y/N.”

When he turns to leave you must stop your heart from racing. You watch him waltz toward his house, giving you a little show when he purposely stops at his mailbox to raise to his full height and rolls his shoulders.

“Damn,” you bite your lower lip, squealing when he turns around to give you a wink. “He’s so tall and handsome…and cocky. Oh-God-where-did-I-get-myself-into?” you babble, walking back inside your house.

“Omega, Y/N? Did you change your mind?” Dean mutters, knocking at your door. “It’s quarter past six.”

“Hi,” you cough, barely finding the strength to hold the door open. “’m sorry but I don’t feel good.” you whine, hating you must turn Dean down. “I got a terrible cold and I’m freezing and I’m hot all the time.”

“Jesus,” Dean immediately scoops you into his arms to carry you toward your couch. He looks you all over, presses one large palm to your forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetheart. I’m gonna help you out of your sweaty clothes. You’ll have a hot bath while I get you something, okay.”

“Uh-“ you sigh, eyes fluttering close, “you can’t see me naked, Sir…” you drift into sleep, mumbling something about pancakes when you suddenly feel like you are floating on air. “Wait!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I will prepare the bath and you can undress. I’ll just go back to my house and get something for you. ‘K?”

Humming you rest your head against Dean’s shoulder, let him carry you upstairs to look for your bedroom. 

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second room to the left,” you whine, nuzzling your face in Dean’s shoulder. “I can’t scent you.”

“You’re sick, sweetheart. Lemme just get you comfortable, Y/N,” he ushers inside your bedroom, carefully places you onto the bed before he looks for your bathroom, cursing as you almost roll off the bed. “Careful, omega. Hmm…guess I must stick around…”

Dean came back when you finally made it out of your bathtub.

You barely had the time to walk out of your bathroom when he stormed into your bedroom, blankets, pillows, and a few of his clothes tugged under one arm while he balanced a bowl of chicken soup with his other hand.

“I changed the sheets and tried to get you my clothes, blankets, and anything fluffy I could find at my place. It’s not much, though,” you purr when Dean puts everything on your bed to create a safe nest smelling like him. “Lie on the bed and I’ll help you get comfortable. I brought you chicken soup.”

“Soup? You made me soup?”

“Uh-I asked my mom how to make it,” Dean shrugs, explaining his mother always made chicken soup for him when he was a boy. “Now let me help you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to, Dean,” you sigh, snuggling into one of his soft plaids. “Smells like you, I like it.”

“Yeah, everything smells like me,” he purrs, watching you relax on the nest he made for you. “You’ll smell like me too.” Dean hides he feels his heart swell when you rub his scent into your skin.

The primal part, his alpha purrs in delight, loves that you are covered with his clothes and scent.

“I’m so tired…”

“You need to eat something first, sweetheart,” Dean insists. He helps you sit while you claw at one of his shirts. You press the fabric to your nose, inhale his scent deeply, finally purring when he sits next to you to feed you with the soup.

“I wanna sleep, Dean,” you protest but Dean pushes the spoon carefully past your lips, smirking when you swallow the warm soup.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Good,” you cough. “And tasty…”

“I got my stuff for the next few days. Food. Clothes. Toiletries and my phone and laptop. I can work from home and take care of you,” Dean explains, while he covers you with a warm blanket. 

You are wearing one of his plaids, and he can’t help the smile creep onto his face when you snatch another from the nest to cradle it in your arms.

“I called in sick,” you whisper, closing your eyes. 

“Good,” Dean crawls under the covers, not missing your breath hitches in your throat when he lies behind you to bring you in his arms. “I’m gonna take care of my omega.”

“Your omega?”

“Mine,” he kisses your mating gland, purring when you tilt your head to grant him more access. “When you are healthy again, I’m gonna take you out, or make you dinner, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think I got a chance,” you mumble. “I’m shy and meek, you are so—” 

“I like you are shy and sweet,” he noses his way along your neck, breathing you in. “You smell so good, like – home.”

“Home,” you whisper happily. “You smell like safety and adventure at the same time. Musky and like a warm apple pie.”

“Did I tell you I loved your pie?” Dean licks his lips, “I love me some pie. My omega bakes the best pies in the world.”

“Your omega,” you hum, liking the sound of it…

Tags in reblog.

[kharmii]

I have seen a lot of guilty feeling Ingo around with blankshipping, but what are your feelings on "Brutally honest with himself , but believing his feelings to be unrequited, thus just wistfully smiling and pining at his brother " Emmet? It hurts that his brother won't look at him like that but it's alright. He knows Ingo loves him and that's the most important thing. He would bluntly admit it if he asked. But he won't. And that's... That's just how it is. We have some untapped angst here folks!

It's too sad for me because I want them both to have equal feelings for each other. The only thing in this vein that might interest me is if Emmet years for carnal intimacy, but the best he can get is platonic intimacy. I'm talking a sort of intimacy that would come across weird to other people, but since they have a close (maybe psychic?) twin bond, it's their personal norm. They live together. They make cuddle piles on the couch and rub lotion on each others backs. Someone not into blankshipping wrote a cute story about how they have a ritual where they remove each others coats after a work day. If I was the only one into shipping them, all that could be enough for me.

The scary thing about this scenario is that it's common in fanfiction, and it never ends well because Emmet is always written as a dysfunctional version of a "Field Marshal" (ENTJ) personality type. It's a rare (and real) personality type often associated with people in positions of authority. A functional version might be Cyllene from PSA. They will stare at you with blank expressions void of emotion and will blurt out hard truths in dead pan voices. They can't lie. They enjoy winning. They're really good at convincing people to do what they want, and the 'evil' ones have an 'any means necessary' mentality toward achieving their agendas. Most importantly, they don't make brash decisions and are in it for the long game. Those types will have the patience to plot revenge for years. This is how we got a crazy pants Emmet in fan fiction who was able to manipulate Ingo into initiating his own molestation or force him to be housebound with his legs cut off at the knees.

Since they're supposed to have a perfect yin/yang dynamic, I think it would be funny if we had an Evil Ingo able to perfectly mirror the Evil Emmet antics. He’s more of an idealist personality. He’s polite, in tune with the feelings of others, and he sees Pokemon battles as an adventure. He still knows how to push Emmet’s buttons and isn’t a perfect victim. A funny way he could punish him for his sexual aggression could be to play on his (my head canon) OCD fussiness. He’d say, “Break time is over, Emmet. All your coworkers are going to smell the sex on you....and is that a stain on your white coat?” 

Emmet would get uneasy and start sniffing at his armpits, He’d reply that pure black is no more forgiving of a color than pure white when it comes to stains, -Ingo looks tidy enough- and besides, he doesn’t smell anything too strong. Ingo would reply that it’s because he’s desensitized to it from exposure. The coworkers are going to notice right away that he smells like a goat’s balls, and how are they going to feel about that? Emmet wouldn’t give a dog about how anybody felt, but he really likes his job and doesn’t want to lose it. Ingo makes it worse by pointing out that if someone could smell it on them, then they’d wonder with whom. They are seldom seen with anybody but each other. After hearing that, Emmet would start wringing his hands and sweating profusely. That would make his pungent scent steam out of his clothes even worse.

Another funny Ingo prank could play after an overexuberant Emmet assault would be to truss him up like this......

....then only untie him like five minutes before the coworkers show up. Emmet would have to scramble to come up with an excuse for why he’s verrrrry disheveled, and the guy can’t lie and can’t really speak that well over all. It would be a torment. He’d have to bid a hasty retreat at best, making people wonder why he’s so nervous and flustered.

Art credit to: 정식승객@subwaypassenger and  き@Emiya_izumi and  ▲▽달력콘티짜_마이니@myni_2362 Twitter.

[bonos-grindcore-sideproject]

✨Unconventional Writer’s Ask✨

— How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Not sure, but sometime around 1990 I wrote a story in which the B52's travel the length of Route 66 (or Highway 61?) to confront and ultimately defeat Satan, who has possessed the body of a Republican frat boy and is attempting to destroy the world from the kid's basement rec room. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but it was a long time ago. No ships or anything, but I might have been a minor character. I didn't know fanfiction was even a thing. I was just trying to entertain two specific friends.

— Do you have a favorite word? (One that you love. Doesn’t necessarily have to be one you use all the time.)

Not a favorite, but I like the sounds of certain words. Here's one: riparian.

— Share a favorite run-on sentence that you’ve written.

From Boy:

I’m far away from the fat ladies and the pretty girls and the children who run in the sand like little birds and I’m far away even from the smell of chips and the ice cream bells and I think I might have actually walked to the end of the world.

— Share a bit of a scene that you’ve written that still gives you FEELS.

From The Monster Words:

I hold you close and feel your chest rising and falling, the breath going in and out of your tough little body, stirring a stray lock of hair that's fallen over your cheek. I can see you in my mind's eye, about thirty years younger, shoving your hair back behind your ears a little roughly, because hair was just a fact of life back then, and there was no need for you to be gentle with it. Ah, sweetheart.

“Monsters,” I whisper, naming them, acknowledging them. “Stay out of this room. You have no business here.”

And I kiss the top of your head, just as if you were a child of mine.

— What is your favorite kind of character interaction to write?

Banter. Nothing makes me happier than having my OTP go on for the equivalent of several pages as if they're a comedy duo, either giving each other a hard time or just doing observational shit about their highly specific Situation.

— Do you have a hyper-specific genre?

I really don't even know what the genres are. I mostly do one-shots, or as we called them in my MFA program, short stories. :P

— Any personal or frequently used tags?

Not really, though once in a while I'll throw in something like "French dudes" or "namechecked politician."

— Share a joke or funny moment that you’ve written that still makes you laugh.

This fake newsheadline/subheadline combo, which incorporates lyrics:

He Falls Down: Old Fart Bono In Traction Again after Bathtub Mishap “He broke himself,” says doc

— Best editing tip?

This is hard and I mostly don't practice what I preach, BUT: Try not to edit as you write. Just write. Once you've got the bulk of the fic written, you can go back and edit a zillion times if you want to.

— What drives you to write?

This isn't specific to fanfiction, as I do write other things. But absolutely it is a way to keep verbalizing about my obsessions without haranguing anyone who doesn't want to hear it. This has been the case since I was a kid. I have always been obsessed with something, and I've always written. This is what makes me happy, and I don't even understand not having obsessions. (Why I've been on tumblr for 10 years in midlife.)

— Where do you draw inspiration?

Music, obviously. Comedy. Conversations with friends. Reading a book that's particularly well-written and wanting to apply that same level of quality and detail to a fic about two dadrock men in love. :P

— What is your immediate reaction when you receive a new comment on a fic?

"It's about time" and/or "Thank God."

— What is your biggest challenge in writing?

The part where I have to write.

— 1-2 sentence preview from your current WIP?? (Only if you are willing.)

I don't have one at the moment! Got very busy with day job and of course with achtoonbaby.com. (Shameless plug.)

— What story or scene are you most proud of?

I am still most proud of Boy, despite having written a lot of stuff subsequently. While it's not historically accurate, I did write it in a kind of fever dream where I felt I was really channeling my protagonist. We'll see if that's the case when his memoir comes out.

— Please link your profile so we can admire your works!

It me

Thank you @breathinginthissilencecence for the ask. I shall tag... @jeevey and @iinchicore!

[imagineyourworld]

Congrats on the 100 followers 👏 can I request number 5 with Commander wolffe please? Maybe a mechanic reader?

Hi,

Thank you <3

Sure thing! If you'd like also check out my Wolffe x Reader fanfiction The Wife, it has (amongst others) the only one bed trope ;)

Love, Charlie

-------

Wolffe x Genderneutral!Mechanic!Reader

Warnings: Shirtless Wolffe (if that counts a warning), nightmare (no detailed descriptions though)

5. Only One Bed

-------

You loved your job, you really did, but you hated being covered in grease. Granted, it didn't happen every day, in fact it happened quite rarely, since you always made an effort to be really careful, but today was just one of those days. Your alarm didn't go off in the morning, meaning when you entered the mess hall all you got was cold caf, H9J, the droid that usually assisted you with repairs, had some lose wiring that needed fixing before you could even start work for the day and once had finally finished repairing the first starship and started on the second you were startled by a loud bang, which resulted in you cutting the wrong wire and the engine unloading every milliliter of oil and fuel and grease onto you. "If one more thing goes wrong I'm gonna kill someone", you muttered under your breath while walking through the hallway to get a change of clothes before hopping under the shower. "In that case I don't think you'll like what I have to say." You came to an abrupt halt and turned around to see Wolffe walking up to you. Just seeing him brought the hint of a smile to your face. Wolffe was probably the only person who could always make you smile, which was ironic, since the stoic soldier didn't smile much himself. "Just tell me so I can get out of these clothes." Wolffe looked you up and down, a slight hint of disgust on his face, probably due to the different fluids staining your overalls, but there was also the hint of something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. “The ship needs to be taken in for some sort of internal moderation, so we’ll have to spend the night somewhere else.”  You raised an eyebrow at him. Not only because ‘internal moderation’ sounded a bit suspicious, but also because he knew as well as you did that none of you, neither clones nor crew, had someplace else to stay.  “The GAR has arranged hotel rooms for all civilians on board”, Wolffe quickly added, probably having recognized your shock and disapproval.  You just nodded. “When do we have to leave?”  His crooked smile told you everything you needed to know. Apparently this day could get way worse, now you couldn’t even shower in peace.  “Alright”, you sighed. “Just give me fives minutes to pack an overnight bag and then we can head out.”  You didn’t wait for Wolffe’s reply, sure he’d turn up at your door in five minutes to tell you to hurry up. What you didn’t expect was for him to follow you once you turned around and made your way to your room.  “I won’t be going with you, none of the clones are. The hotel rooms are for civilians, not clones”, he clarified. His tone made it very obvious how little he liked the arrangement. “Most of my brothers have already left, the majority lent some camping supplies and the rest are hoping to find someone at the local bars to spend the night with”, he continued.  You hesitated for just a moment before voicing your proposal.  “In that case I think it would only make sense for you to stay with me. Unless you’d like to go to the bar as well.”  You didn’t dare to look at Wolffe and just kept your eyes locked on your door, which had finally come in sight. The idea had been rather spontaneous, mostly because you knew how he despised camping, but in the time it took him to reply you quickly came to regret every single word.  “You don’t have to let me stay with you, I’ll be fine”, Wolffe tried to argue.  Though this might have been your way out of this awkward situation, you shook your head. You were nothing if not stubborn and since you had proposed it you couldn’t back out now.  “Please, you’ve done so much for me, helped me when I first joined the 104th and protected me ever since then, it’s the least I can do to repay you.”  When Wolffe finally nodded in agreement you weren’t sure whether to be glad or if this was the final straw on your bad day. 

-------

About twenty minutes, and a deadly silent walk, later you found yourself in front of yet another door, though this one didn’t lead to your room, but rather a hotel room.  “Here goes nothing”, you mumbled as the doors opened after you scanned the key card, knowing how little funds the army had and that they wouldn’t waste them on hotel rooms.  “This isn’t that bad”, you exclaimed as you made your way into the room. “Look, there’s even a pretty decent view of the city.”  Other than you, who now stared out the window, Wolffe focused on the bed. Bed, singular. He should have known, after all the room was only supposed to be for one person. It wasn’t even a large bed, just slightly bigger than the one Wolffe was used to in the barracks.  “Maybe this is a bad idea”, Wolffe said, hating how uncertain he suddenly sounded. But who could blame him? He’d have to sleep next to you, with only very little possible space between his body and yours. Just when he thought he was finally getting over his crush interest, this had to happen.  “Why would you say tha... Oh... Oh, Wolffe, I didn’t realize”, you said as your eyes followed his and also landed on the small bed.  “I’m gonna go”, Wolffe said.  He began to turn around when he suddenly felt your hand around his wrist. You both knew that you weren’t strong enough to keep him here if he really wanted to leave, but just this slight touch broke down all of Wolffe’s walls.  “C’mon, Wolffe, we’re friends, and more importantly, we’re both adults, I think we’ll manage to sleep in the same bed for one night.”  The part of Wolffe that was still thinking straight was telling him to get out of the room as fast as possible, but the irresponsible and honestly down right tired side of him relented. How bad could it be?

-------

Though you were having second thoughts while brushing your teeth in the small refresher, once you stepped out and saw Wolffe, in only the trousers of his blacks and with hair more unruly than you had ever seen it laying on the bed you thanked the stars for your spontaneous idea.  “Do you need to use the refresher again?”, you asked as you sat down on your side of the bed.  Wolffe only shook his head, his gaze glued to the window and the city beyond.  “Alright then... Good night, I guess”, you said as you pulled the blanket (yes, only one blanket for the two of you to share) up, though you were slightly disappointed at the fact that it now covered more of Wolffe’s toned chest.  “Night”, he echoed before reaching over to the bedside table and turning off the small lamp.  You didn’t know how it was possible, but in the dark you were somehow even more aware of Wolffe laying only a few centimeters away from you, so close that you could feel his body heat under your shared blanket and smell the shampoo in his hair, which somehow smelled better on him than the other clones, even though they all used the same one.  Even though it took you a while to fall asleep, you tried your best not to move, partly because you wanted to avoid accidentally touching Wolffe, which would only result in even more confused feelings, and partly because you knew Wolffe was a light sleeper and didn’t want to risk waking him up.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of laying still in the darkness, you fell asleep.  Though only shortly, because next thing you knew you were awake again. Awake and sweaty and shaking.  “Shh, it’s alright, everything’s fine. Just focus on me, focus on my voice.”  The voice was familiar, as were the hands on your cheek and shoulder, though it took you a moment to place them, still too consumed by the nightmare you had just woken up from.  “W...Wollfe?”, you stuttered, hating how shaky and scared your voice sounded.  The hands on you grew firmer and you could have sworn that for a split second you felt a pair of soft lips on your sweaty forehead.  “I’m here, cyare”, the same voice, definitely Wolffe, whispered in the dark.  Though you still couldn’t see him, his familiar voice, touch and smell helped you to return to reality.  “Wolffe, I... I’m so sorry”, you choked out, trying your best not to sob. The nightmare was still in your bones, and the embarrassment of having woken Wolffe didn’t help.  Instead of the gruff reply you had been expecting Wolffe suddenly pulled you closer. Your chest, clad in only a thin top, was now pressed against Wolffe’s naked one, one of his arms around your shoulder and the other grabbing your hip.  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You had a nightmare, we all have those. Hell, mine could probably give yours a run for their money.”  You just nodded before moving closer to him so that your nose was buried in the crook of his neck. You might have just had a nightmare, but luckily it had been replaced by this dream, a dream of laying in Wolffe’s arms that you had already had more often than you’d like to admit. Sadly you knew deep down that that dream would never become reality. 

-------

When the light of one of the planet’s suns streaming through your window woke you up the next morning you were somehow still tired.  It took you a moment to remember where you were, and even longer who you were with. Your eyes widened in realization when you noticed that you were cuddled up next to Wolffe, your legs intertwined with his and his arm around your waist. Though you had to admit that you were rather fond of this position you knew that it would be terribly awkward once Wolffe woke up.  Speak of the devil...  “Hey, you feeling better?”  You looked up at him through your eyelashes. Surely this had to be another dream, if this were real Wolffe wouldn’t be so relaxed to waking up with you in his arms.  You gave him a moment, maybe he was still too sleepy to realize who exactly he was cuddling with.  “(Y/N)? You alright?”  The way he said your name in his even rougher morning voice, and the fact that he said your name at all, clearly knowing who it was next to him, did things to you you’d rather not analyse, at least not in that moment.  Finally it dawned on you that the dream after the nightmare had not been a dream after all, it had all been real. Your nerves slowly began to fade away at the realization, and curiosity took over.  “Wolffe, what does cyare mean?”  Instead of answering your question he untangled his body from yours and sat up against the headboard. The look in his eyes was something you couldn’t decipher, though it wasn’t altogether unfamiliar.  “Buy me a cup of caf and maybe I’ll tell you.”  A laugh escaped you, unexpected, but not unwelcome since it seemed to lighten the mood.  “How about two cups of caf and you’ll call me that again?”, you tried to bargain with a raised eyebrow and a smile you hoped was something between smug and seductive. In truth, you’d buy him all the caf in the galaxy if it meant he’d say that word again in the same voice he used that night, if he held you again like that even better.  “Oh, cyare, I don’t need caf for that, all you had to do was ask.”  His tone easily beat your when it came to being smug and seductive, but you didn’t mind at all, not after hearing that word again.  Stars, that man, especially early in the morning and without a shirt, would be the death of you. 

-------

I sorta just used this prompt to deal with the terrible nightmare I had last night, so sorry for that, but hopefully you enjoyed it anyway

[lotusthekat]

Every little thing he does is magic

Fandom: The Owl House

Rating: G

Relationships: Luz Noceda/Hunter

Characters: Luz Noceda, Hunter (Golden Guard)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Luz discovers more about the boy behind the Golden Guard. More specifically, his caring side.

*Not compliant with Eclipse Lake!

Word count: 1.394

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that I’ve been thinking about this ship in the past few days, so now I wrote a very self-indulgent fic for them. My very first TOH fic for that matter. I hope this isn’t too OOC, haha.

TRIGGER WARNING - implied child abuse

HATE COMMENTS WILL BE DELETED AND BLOCKED.

--

There is… a light.

No. More than one.

The smell of fire and the magic woods welcome her senses, her brown eyes finding a small campfire and several light spells, small balls floating around, protecting her from the darkness of the mysterious forest.

Luz’s head hurts, though.

She grunts, and once she tries to try and stand…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice, at first, alarms her and she’s ready to take Eda’s staff to defend herself. Except it’s not by her side, and when she realizes, Luz is not actually in danger.

A few feet away from her is the Golden Guard – Hunter, she remembers –, sitting by the campfire with a frowning but saddened gaze. His red eyes are dark in contrast to all the light surrounding them, and besides his absent golden mask, he’s not wearing his trademark white cloak, either.

… in fact, said cloak has been covering Luz all this time.

Before the girl could question it, the little cardinal lands in front of her, chirping in happiness.

“Hey, little guy,” Luz awes in spite of her pain, allowing her to sit – with a few struggles. She notices her arm is bandaged by some ripped white cloth, apparently from the cloak.

Unlike the little Rascal, Hunter doesn’t even look at her. He looks like he’s in too deep in the fire, seeing things no one else can.

“Wh… What happened?” Luz asks, unsure.

Hunter refuses to take his eyes off the flames; he seems to hug his knees tighter.

“Kikimora found us in the woods when we tried to escape,” he replies. “Let’s just say, she was less than happy to see us.”

Bits and pieces come back to Luz, having her recall they were on a mission together; as much as she still didn’t trust him, she couldn’t quite refuse when Hunter had gone all the way to the Owl House to ask for her help, in the middle of the night, to fight off the Emperor’s Coven from eradicating the few wild magic there still is.

“Did- Did we at least take some of the wood with us?” Luz wonders, searching for her bag.

Hunter looks down. “No.”

Luz stares at him sadly.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“… it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean? T-They were going to destroy it-!”

“Kikimora almost killed you!”

The tone of anger and frustration in his voice shuts Luz for good. Maybe she’s still a little doozy, but she swears she might even see Hunter���s eyes glowing thanks to the light spells.

He takes a deep breath, however, and looks far away into the dark forest.

“We barely got out of there alive,” Hunter rephrases, his voice noticeably a lot quieter, as if afraid the world might hear. “And then, when she had me cornered, you”— his hands clutch his sleeves —“you jumped in to save me.”

Luz remembers.

She replays the entire scene in her head, and she sees herself stepping in. Despite all the conflicting thoughts, Luz did not hesitate; she yelled and took the blow, and that was the last thing she saw before blacking out.

The teenage girl can’t help but hear the conflict in his words. Hunter sounds guilty and confused. Then she realizes. The white cloak still protecting her, her bandaged arm, the light spells illuminating her view…

No one has ever gone out of their way to protect him.

Knowing Lilith, Luz is aware the Emperor’s Coven is hell. Imagine then, how it must be for a teenage boy who could’ve been a normal student at Hexside, being forced to work for Belos. Luz might only see it through Hunter’s scars and his short-tempered and distant attitude, but… truly, the Emperor is not a merciful man.

It’s all he must’ve learned.

And yet he’s so desperate to get out, that he told Luz about his life, he reached out to her… and now, he’s taking care of her. This isn’t a joke, nor a plan.

Hunter must be very confused.

Luz has… so many thoughts. Strange ones. Quite usual for a human living in the Boiling Isles, really.

The little Rascal flies over to Hunter’s shoulder for comfort. The boy might flinch at first, but he relaxes his body. Luz smiles in support, while the other hides half of his face in his arms.

“Hey,” she says, scooting a little closer to him, “thanks for looking after me.”

Hunter finally snaps his head at her, and his face… becomes as red as the cardinal chirping.

“I-I—” He coughs a little too violently, “W-Well, what else could I’ve done? I couldn’t just leave you there, after I asked for your help! I mean- we still have our truce, remember?”

“Well yeah, but…” Luz gestures at the light spells that join them. “I think there’s some light inside you, after all.”

After a few seconds, Hunter groans, “That was terrible.”

Luz giggles along with the Rascal. The boy sighs it out.

“In any case, we’ll have to stay here for the night. You’re not in any condition to fly all the way back to the Owl House,” Hunter observes her, with a speck of worry. He blushes again and avoids her eyes. “Early morning, we’ll get out of here.”

Luz hums. “Roger!”

“… my name is Hunter.”

“Nevermind.”

He shrugs. “I made sure to leave traps near us. I had to use some papers of yours, though.”

“Wow, someone’s becoming a pro already?” She smirks.

“I-It’s not that hard,” Hunter scoffs, “but yeah… I’ve been practicing when I can.”

“Too bad you can’t come to my glyph lessons. I’ve been teaching Eda.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The Owl Lady?”

“Mm-hmm,” Luz grins. “You could learn a lot more from me.”

Surprisingly, Hunter smiles back. “I already do.”

The girl admits, he looks good smiling. Wait.

Noticing that, he returns to his serious persona.

“You should rest now,” Hunter advises, “the healing potion I gave you might take a while to have effect.”

“Okay,” she yawns as soon as he says it. How convenient.

As soon as she lies down, Luz watches Hunter not following his advice at all.

“Well, aren’t you gonna rest too?”

“I don’t need sleep.”

Luz frowns. “Your eyebags beg to differ.”

Hunter hisses silently, like a grumpy cat.

“Hey, we’ve had a long day, some hours of sleep won’t hurt you,” she insists.

“I can’t let my guard down again,” Hunter says firmly. He faces away from her. “I can’t ever lose focus.”

She would’ve teased him more, but it wouldn’t feel right.

“… I’ll be okay,” Luz reassures him. “You made sure we’re safe; they’ll think twice before getting to us again.”

The sixteen-year-old boy holds a very long stare, mentally trying to trust her words. Luz smiles at him with support.

“Right,” he sighs. “You win.”

Luz is, admittedly, kind of surprised he’s complying, but he must be really tired. When does he even get to rest?

Hunter lies down beside her, though he keeps his distance. It allows the Rascal to sit between them, and Luz pets the adorable little bird. As for Hunter, he turns around and she only finds his back.

“Hey, um, do you want your cloak back?” Luz asks.

“You need it more than I do. It’s cold out here.”

“You sure? Aren’t you cold, too?”

“Not really. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” Luz hugs the white cape close, and quickly smirks, “I might not give it back though. I’m a known heat stealer.”

Even when she doesn’t see his face, the girl can tell he’s rolling his eyes.

“Whatever. Go to sleep.”

She snorts.

Although the Boiling Isles are not generally peaceful, there’s… quite a beauty to it. Even when she’s being hunted by the evil Emperor himself, this might be one of the few moments of peace Luz’s had since arriving here.

Ironically, with the guy she once hated. She’s not too sure how to feel about him yet… but he’s really just a kid, forced into a destiny that is not his own. He’s really trying to come out of his shell, and it’s pretty sweet.

Luz might lean a little to check if he’s asleep – as it turns out, he’s already sleeping like a rock. Who knows how much he needed it.

She smiles and soon joins him, guarded by his newfound magic.

[miss-choco-chips]

F’coffee

-.-.-.-.-.-

Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.

Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.

So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…

Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.

It was bound to go down like this.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.

But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.

So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.

“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”

Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.

It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.

(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)

“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.

“You are twenty.”

“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

“What can I get for you?”

“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”

“Bart, no.”

“Please put that in a grande cup”

“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”

“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”

“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”

“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”

“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”

“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”

“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”

“What do you want, Kon?”

“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.

Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.

Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.

Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”

Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.

“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”

“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”

Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.

“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”

At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.

“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”

“What do you mean, when he comes back?”

“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”

That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.

Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.

The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.

In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.

Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.

Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.

“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”

Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.

“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”

Or…

“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”

Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.

“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”

“But you don’t even know what I/”

“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”

And also…

“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”

“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”

“...noted.”

Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.

“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.

“Six espresso shots.”

She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.

“...okay, and?”

“And that 's it.”

“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”

“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-