#i cannot stress enough though JUST HOW MANY DRABBLES OF THIS I HAVE

[forwhump]

Don’t Do This

a/n; I was gonna try and take a couple days off posting ‘cause I felt bad for being way too much but I’m addicted to the panicky feeling that a new post gives me & I could only hold out for one day :’) hello again

I wrote this world in drabbles so that’s a big part of the reason it’s getting posted in drabbles but the conundrum I’m having now is that two or three of them are now actually following the plot & the rest are all just completely random so WHAT is the rhyme or reason here ?? there isn’t one buckle in

here’s another random ♡

(introducing the rest of the unit ! fun fun fun)(I’ve created a universe that’s just so much fun for everybody involved)

tw/cw: grievous bodily harm, mutilation, disfigurement, life altering injuries, rape, noncon, guns, graphic depictions of violence, gore, transphobia, misgendering, psychological torture, torture, amputation, humiliation

living weapon whumpee, creepy whumper, super soldiers, punishment

word count : this one’s long as hell, like almost 4K words, that’s why you’re getting the heads up <3

Good days, in a place like this, are far and few in between.

Most days are wrought with some kind of torment, haunted by something unimaginable. Silas’ day to day can be averaged out to mutilation, brain surgery, training exercises — a game of slaughter for the soldiers — and field tests — a game of slaughter for Silas.

Silas doesn’t have a lot of good days.

When he does, they just make him tense.

It’s like something is missing, and how fortunate it is that the missing piece is some kind of agony but Silas finds himself bracing for it all the same.

They’re sprawled across the common room, across the couches and the mismatched carpets, and Silas isn’t in surgery, nobody else is in training, their wounds are all healing. Silas is dwarfing the loveseat but Wren had fit himself into the spot at his side and he’s so warm next to him that it’s a good day. It makes Silas’ fingers twitch. Something’s just —

Something isn’t right. It’s electric, and it prickles at the back of his neck. He’s already looking at the door when it chirps to life; a keycard is accepted, then a fingerprint, then the vault lock is unsecured.

Silas was right. Something’s wrong.

The door grinds open and a cavalry of soldiers explode into the room like a swarm of flies. It’s an ambush. They move quickly, covering the door and the perimeter of the common room, shouting over each other, shouting commands.

They flood through the common room, guns pointed towards them.

Wren’s small hand finds Silas’ quickly and Silas squeezes. He helps Wren to his feet as guns are aimed into their faces and soldiers shout at them, commanding and militant, “on your feet, asset! On your feet!”

They’re herded into a row, which gives Silas a cool, uneasy feeling he doesn’t let show on his face. Standing next to each other, they’re too drastically different in size to hold hands in any practical way, but Wren keeps close at his side, fingers woven through Silas’ sleeve so tightly his knuckles are white.

It gives Silas a pang of — not of reassurance, because it’s next to impossible to ever be reassured in a place like this, but something a bit more akin to resolve. Something’s wrong, but it really doesn’t matter what it is. If Wren’s in any sort of danger, Silas will raise fuckin’ hell. No harm will befall even a hair on his little blonde head as long as Silas has something to fuckin’ say about it.

He shifts, only slightly, shielding Wren behind his arm just as Point saunters into their unit, hands behind his back, at ease. He walks with casual, unhurried footsteps, pacing up and down the line of them, and he’s quiet for a long time. He stops once in front of Wren and Silas doesn’t like the way he looks at him.

“Assets,” he greets finally, loud and commanding. “It has come to my attention that this unit has been causing me some trouble. Again.” He stops, turns to face them, arms still at ease. “One of you,” he says, “has been feeding some information to the big guy —“ he points at Silas “— that we suspect will make him extremely volatile. That puts us in danger, and that just won’t do, will it?”

Point looks down the row of them before he settles on Wren, close against his back. “And it was you, wasn’t it?” He asks. “You weren’t a very good girl.”

Wren inhales sharply at his back and Silas isn’t sure if the race of his heartbeat is Wren’s or his own. Something cold starts to trickle down the back of his neck, just as cold as whatever’s started to frost over the inside of his ribcage.

“I asked you a question,” Point says.

Wren’s fingertips dig into Silas’ arm so hard he probably draws blood. “No,” he breathes, so soft it’s barely audible.

Point grins at him. “No?”

“No,” he insists, just as soft. “I’ve never — no. They don’t — they don’t know.”

His eyebrows lift. “They don’t know?” The way his smile spreads wider across his face is grotesque. “My,” he says. “Didn’t this just get a whole lot more interesting?”

“Please,” Wren whispers.

The way Point grins at him makes Silas’ stomach bubble. He pushes Wren behind him entirely. “Fuck off.”

Point’s gaze flickers up to Silas’ face, almost appraising, before that awful, grotesque smile spreads across his face again. “That’s why you’ve got such a soft spot for her,” he says. “She never told you she’s a whore.”

Wren inhales sharply and Silas is going to rub that smile off Point’s face with the concrete floor.

Before he gets the opportunity, Robin says, “it was me.”

He doesn’t break line, he doesn’t change face, a proper and trained soldier. But, “I talked to Silas. Wren didn’t know.”

Point turns his head before he follows the movement of it, stalking the line of them to Robin.

Wren’s older brother, the familial resemblance is undeniable; they have the same white hair, the same dark eyes, the same cheekbones. The difference between them is that Wren is a person, soft and warm, and Robin is a super soldier. He’s big and he’s broad, his hair cropped short above his ears. When he isn’t in combat, he wears round, dorky glasses. He’s always scared the hell out of Silas and Silas doesn’t quite know why. Not much else scares him.

Robin had come to him maybe a week ago, and he hadn’t said much. He didn’t know much, even. Wren hasn’t really been…himself, he’d said. More than usual. He won’t tell me what’s going on with him but I was hoping you would…keep an eye on him. He trusts you.

He really didn’t even need to ask, because Silas was always keeping an eye on Wren but Robin was worried about him and Silas knows more than enough how that feels.

He keeps his chin up as Point approaches. Wren is shaking at Silas’ back. “You?”

“Sir,” Robin agrees.

Point hums thoughtfully. “This unit is just full of surprises today, isn’t it?”

He just barely looks at his men, tipping his head towards Robin. The militia descends on him, shouting and aiming and threatening, getting Robin to his knees, hands behind his head. Two of them hold him there, kneeling on the concrete as Point stands in front of him with a grin.

“Asset,” he says. “You have been charged today with inciting violence.”

“No,” Wren breathes. “No, please —“

“Normally,” Point says, grinning wider, not turning his head, “the punishment for inciting violence is execution. But we’ve made exceptions for the freak,” he explains, his eyes flickering to Silas, “so we’ve decided to show you mercy. You will get to walk away.” And he grins, flicking his wrist, and a buck knife slides out from his sleeve and glints tauntingly in the fluorescence. “We just need to make absolutely certain you are no longer capable of inciting violence in our facility. Precautions need to be taken.” With his other hand, he grabs a fistful of Robin’s white hair and he drives his knee into his windpipe.

Robin chokes, gasping for ragged breaths as Point takes a step back, just far enough that he can boot Robin in the face and throw him off his knees, onto his back. From there, Point stomps down onto his face, and the pitch of the gurgling noise that Robin makes gives Silas goosebumps.

“Today,” he announces, “we will take your tongue. We will no longer have to worry about threats of violence, and you will be used as an example to your unit. We don’t make empty threats. We will not have any more insurgence in this fuckin’ place, do I make myself clear?”

“Please,” Wren breathes, peeking out from around Silas’ arm and Silas tries to shield him again but he’s stubborn, he’s insistent. “Please. Don’t do this.”

Point looks at him and he looks for a long time. It makes all the hair at the back of Silas’ neck stand up, and he holds out an arm, not shielding Wren, just blocking him, just in case. Silas can see the idea form in the way that Point’s face lights up, cruel and delighted. He clicks his tongue at Wren, angling his head, some kind of signal. “Bring the girl over here,” he commands. “I want to be inside her while I cut out her brother’s tongue.”

“No,” Robin grunts, with the wet strain of somebody bleeding down the back of his own throat.

“No,” Wren breathes, taking a quick step back.

A wall of black tactical gear and assault rifles closes in on him quickly, and Silas moves without any hesitation or conscious thought at all.

He pivots. He’s gentle, he’s so gentle with Wren as he pushes him behind himself and barricades him from the nightmare cavalry. Wren’s hand finds his arm so tightly that Silas’ bones grind together and it’s his resolve. He won’t let anything happen to Wren — he can’t. Over his dead fuckin’ body.

Robin — whatever. Silas could take him or leave him. But he means a lot to Wren, and Silas won’t let Wren down.

“I fuckin’ dare you,” he spits.

Give lifts his gun. “Stand down, asset.”

“Tell you what,” Silas says, lifting his chin. “If you get me down, I’ll stay down.”

Give aims his gun towards Silas’ dick. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard.”

But the funniest thing about these soldiers is that they know Silas. They were here for his creation. They’ve witnessed every field test. They know what he can do. They know exactly what he’s capable of. When Silas needs to be escorted from the unit they’ll argue amongst themselves, throwing weight and rank around, about who has to stand in front because none of them want to put their backs to him.

They’re scared of him. They’re right to be, but they’re scared of him. But there’s something in this unit — maybe it’s because Silas is corned and drastically outnumbered, but it makes them cocky. It’s like they forget to be scared.

They should always be scared.

Silas rips the gun out of Give’s hands and shatters every bone in his face with the base. He drops into a limp pile of limbs and Silas can’t tell if he’s breathing. He struggles, sometimes, with how little it actually takes to kill a human being. Overkill, sometimes, but he’s never tried to tone it down.

“Asset!” Preach bellows, and Silas hooks his foot behind his ankle, sending him sprawling. Once he’s on the ground, Silas drives his heel down and right through the centre of his face. He hits concrete, and bone tears through his sock and bites open the bottom of his foot.

He’s rewarded with a knife between the ribs.

It’s whatever, it’s a knife to the ribs, it’s definitely not Silas’ first. But it hurts, of course it fuckin’ hurts, it hurts all the way through him and deep into his chest and he rips the knife out of his side with a roar. Rock, still standing close at his side, exhales an, “aw, fuck,” before Silas gives him back his knife. He brings it up, through the underside of his chin, into the roof of his mouth. Blood pours out of his face like a faucet had been turned on. He hits the ground with a noise like a splatter.

This time, he’s rewarded with a bullet to the face.

It isn’t lethal, but Silas is still shot in the face.

His cheekbone shatters on impact and he goes completely blind on his left side. For a second, for only a second, the world around him blurs completely, but it happens for a second too long. Silas sways, and when the vision clears in his right eye they’re all close, they’re all way too fuckin’ close.

“Back up,” he snarls, but then everything blurs again and their hands are on Wren and they’re trying to wrench him from his side.

“NO!” Silas roars.

“Silas!” Wren cries. He reaches for him, and Silas grabs him quickly by the hand.

While his arm is outstretched, Need strikes, and he breaks all the way through Silas’ elbow with a buck knife.

It crackles with pain for barely a moment before Silas stops feeling anything in his arm. It falls to his side, useless and limp, and Silas quickly reaches for Wren with his other arm but Silas thinks he might be losing a lot of blood and quickly isn’t quick enough.

Wren is hauled away as Silas is surrounded, guns aimed at all his most vital spots, fingers on triggers.

Wren fights, begs, struggles, but Tide and Vineyard make easy work of dragging him across the concrete. His wrists are tied behind his back, and when they drop him at Point’s feet, they drop him on his back, his hands trapped against the concrete. There’s something really helpless about it and it makes Silas really nauseous. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.

Point lifts his boot and presses it down against Wren’s throat, holding him there.

Silas doesn’t snarl so much as his chest makes some kind of noise, something low, like some kind of predatory animal. The barrel of a gun is hoisted, cold, against the nape of his neck, a warning.

“This is getting just fuckin’ ridiculous,” Point snaps at the room at large. “Ridiculous! All of this fuckin’ trouble! For some whore!” He looks down at Wren and tells him directly, “you are not worth all this fuckin’ trouble.”

Something akin to hatred knots in Silas’ chest, something akin to hatred but something so much stronger, something he doesn’t have the words to describe. It’s heavy, and it’s restless under his skin. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.

Point coils Wren’s braid around his fist and drags him over to Robin as Wren cries. Robin tries to protest, makes a hiccuping sort of sound, but he doesn’t speak. He probably can’t. He’s drowning.

“You people have been giving me a lot of trouble,” Point announces. He props Wren’s head up against Robin’s chest. “I’ve earned this.”

Wren sobs and it’s the single worst sound that Silas has ever heard. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget it. The knife is still pierced through his elbow.

“Please,” he begs, “please, please. Don’t do this. Please.”

Point grins at him. “You know how much I love it when you beg.” In a single, fluid motion, he hauls Wren’s joggers down his thighs.

The knife is still pierced through Silas’ elbow. He takes quick stock. He can still use one of his arms and he can still see from one of his eyes. He’s probably still at an advantage over a regular, human soldier.

Except Hal is swarmed, too. Not the same as Silas, because Hal’s a little more human than Silas, but he’s swarmed, and still, he shoves a soldier out of his way by the side of his head as he shouts, “you can’t do this!”

Point looks up quickly. He kind of scans the room before he settles on Hal. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t fuckin’ do this!” Hal cries.

“Stand down,” a soldier warns him and Hal pulls that guy’s knees out from under him.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” He protests. “This is fucked up!”

Point looks down at Wren for a long time, who cries quietly and doesn’t look back. Finally, he leans over him, up to Robin, and pries his mouth open. Robin doesn’t fight him. He doesn’t even hiccup this time.

Point eases his tongue from his mouth and severs it with a flick of his wrist. Stepping over Wren and Robin, he sidles up to Hal, getting right up in his face. “Which one are you?”

“Singh,” Hal answers. He adds, mocking, “sir.”

Something flickers in Point’s jaw. “Singh,” he agrees. “They tell me you’re not very bright, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I will choose to believe it is ignorance and not defiance that has made you think you have any right to stand up to me or to tell me what I can’t do. You do not. I can do anything I’d like. I can do whatever I want to you people. Do I make myself clear?”

Hal doesn’t deign that with a response.

Point flicks Robin’s tongue into his face and bellows, “do I make myself clear?”

Hal doesn’t flinch, but he closes his eyes.

Point delights in it. “Soldier,” he says, and when Hal looks at him, he goes on, “you know to look at a superior when they’re talking to you.” He looks at Vineyard. “Both eyes. Left and right.”

Vineyard nods.

Hal says, “what?”

The swarm is back at him in a second and it’s bigger this time. They force Hal onto the ground, onto his back, they pin him there by his arms and his legs and his wrists and his chest and his chin. Tide holds his eyelids open.

Hal thrashes. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? This is bullshit!”

“You should’ve known better than to misbehave,” Point says.

He hands Vineyard the same knife he’d used to amputate Robin’s tongue. Vineyard flips it over in his fist, and straddles Hal’s chest. Hal thrashes again, trying to throw him off. “Get the fuck off me! You can’t do this shit! This is fucked!”

“What did I just say?” Point snaps. He snaps his fingers, and Vineyard carves both of Hal’s eyeballs out of their sockets.

He screams the whole time.

He screams himself hoarse, and when Vineyard climbs off of him, when the swarm depletes, he’s a pile on the floor, head down, and Silas can’t tell if he’s still conscious.

“I am getting sick,” Point spits, “sick of the behaviour from this fuckin’ unit. You are livestock. You are property. You belong to me. You have no power here. And I’m delighted to let you know, livestock, that you aren’t even our best. You aren’t special. If you can’t learn to behave yourselves, you will all be put down, and our efforts will be relocated to another unit and you will not be missed. Except the girl,” he adds, mostly to Wren, standing over him again. He winks. “What a waste of such fuckable meat. We’ll keep her in the barracks until we get bored of her. She will be kept busy.”

Wren sobs and Silas’ fingers twitch. His arm is hot with bleeding.

Point crouches down above Wren again and makes a sound, a mock sigh. “I was really looking forward to fucking you while I cut his tongue out,” he says, pulling his joggers the rest of the way down, “and now I’m really disappointed. So you’re gonna have to make that up to me.”

Wren sobs again. His voice is trembling as he begs, “please, please. Please don’t do this. Please.”

“Be good,” Point tells him, and there isn’t even any mocking amusement in it. “I’m already disappointed. Don’t put me in a bad mood.”

“Please,” Wren sobs.

Point pulls him a little closer, pulls his head off of Robin’s chest. “Be a good girl,” he says. “I’m not asking.”

His hands find Wren’s waist and Wren wails. “Please.”

Something shifts in Point’s face. His bad mood. “Just be a good girl!” He cracks his fist into Wren’s face so hard that the back of Wren’s head ricochets off the pavement before he goes completely, unsettlingly still. His cheekbone is already bruised as Point snaps, “fuck sake.” With a grunt, he spits in Wren’s face. “Dumb bitch.” As he stands, he looks right at Silas. “Not as much fun fucking her when she’s not awake to fight me off.”

Silas is a violent person, but the kind of violence that Point stokes in him is something like nothing else Silas has ever experienced. It’s dizzying, not a thirst but a lust, and Silas doesn’t just want to kill him but he wants to eviscerate him.

He makes it half a step closer before the soldier standing closest, Vienna, lifts his gun and shoves the barrel tight against the bottom of Silas’ chin.

“Stand down.”

Silas doesn’t even have time to remove the knife from his arm. Silas grabs Vienna around the throat and crushes every bone in his neck with his other hand. He’s dead before he has time to react.

Two gunshots are the soundtrack to his body hitting the concrete. The pain registers a moment later.

It explodes through both of Seven’s kneecaps, one at a time, a white hot sort of pain that seeps into the marrow of his bones and hurts from the inside. He drops to his knees, and fire licks up into his hips, his chest, it churns his stomach with something hot and acidic that crawls up the back of his throat as he bellows.

Point lowers his handgun. “He told you to stand down.”

“Eat shit,” Silas seethes, and Point fires another shot into the already shattered plate of his right knee. The way the pain ripples through him knocks the wind out of him, and Silas groans through his teeth, breathless.

“Down, boy,” Point says. Silas snarls as he saunters closer, gun raised but almost mocking in its brandishing. “You embarrass yourself, you know,” he tells him. “Losing all this blood for the sake of the fucksleeve. This is a waste of your talents.”

Silas snorts at him. “Get fucked.”

It brings back Point’s grin, and he points at Wren’s limp body. “Like your little girlfriend’s going to be?”

Silas rips the knife out of his arm. He means to throw it, but he doesn’t get that far.

He gets shot in the face. Again.

It blows everything to darkness for a second and when Silas comes back to himself he’s on his back, looking up at Point, illuminated ominously by the fluorescent lights.

Point grins down at him again. “For constant belligerence,” he says, “left leg. Below the knee.” He holds out a hand, and Vineyard hands him an axe. “I’ll do the honours. Shame the girl isn’t conscious for this one.” He turns the axe in his hands, brandishing it dramatically before he hoists the end of it towards June.

“Tollier,” he says. “Any grand, heroic gestures for this one before I amputate his leg?”

June looks at Silas like she might try.

He shakes his head against the concrete.

She looks at him for as long as the moment will allow. Still, she doesn’t look away when she whispers, “no.”

“Hmm,” Point says. “Good girl.” He looks at her with an almost genuine approval. “Two fingers from your left hand for general insubordination,” he orders. “But I’ll let you pick which two fingers.”

Vineyard’s grin glints in the overhead lights.

Silas is sure June screams, but it sounds like his ears are full of water and he can’t hear much of anything else.

Point grins, wide and maniacal. It’s the most evil Silas has ever seen him look. “Brace yourself, big guy,” he says, and he leans in real close to make sure Silas can hear him. “This is really going to hurt.”

[daenysx]

I can't stop thinking about modern!aemond with his pregnant wife or with the baby, like him caressing her little bump, or massaging her when she feels tired

i wrote a little drabble for this, i hope it's okay <33

modern!aemond targaryen x pregnant fem!reader , fluff

you wrap your fingers around the cup of herbal tea aemond made for you minutes ago.

he's not sitting here with you, because he needs to make calls and work in his room. you told him it's okay, never liked keeping him away from his job. working is something he needs to do to keep his mind occupied, otherwise you think he'll be worried for you or the baby. it happened before.

your other hand draws absent-minded shapes on your belly. it's grown huge, to the point where you can't see your feet when you're standing up. it feels unbelievable sometimes, the fact that you'll be able to see your baby girl in such a short time. you will hold her in your arms, feed her and kiss her. it's gonna feel like a miracle, you're not familiar with miracles.

you are curious about the details, of course. not the giving birth part, you try to keep your mind away from it these days. but what will she look like? doctors are saying she's healthy and everything's okay. will she have aemond's hair? maybe your eyes? will she read lots of books when she's grown like her dad, or will she like obsessing over fictional characters from tv shows just like you did years ago? she'll be perfect, you know that much. a mix of aemond and you. perfect.

you can't wait to meet her for many reasons but it would also be nice to stop being pregnant and get rid of the aches in your body. it's not easy to carry a baby, no matter how excited you are, physical aspects cannot be ignored for too long. you feel swollen everywhere, it's hard to leave the bed or couch by yourself, and sometimes even your face doesn't feel like your own. you think it's normal to feel that way most times, but- not always. not today.

the couch beneath you is usually comfy, not now, though. it feels like something's digging up your spine, you tilt your head back to the pillows with a low groan. baby girl moves, she's a bit restless today. you want to move your legs, maybe walk a little to relieve the numbness in them. well, you can't leave the couch by yourself. tough luck.

your hero steps in, and you manage to take a nice breath. aemond comes to you, his face is unreadable. he tries not to let work bother him, especially when he needs to be okay for the three of you now, but you sense him feeling stressed over it. it looks like today will be a small disaster for each member of his little targaryen family.

"what's wrong?" aemond asks, the moment he sees your discomfort. "are you hurting anywhere?"

you hand him the tea cup, only took a few sips from it before. "can you help me up, please?"

"of course, my love." he softens immediately. it's time to be a good husband, he's not gonna sulk over business deals just now. "here, let me hold you." he says, supporting your body to lift you up.

it's nice to feel your legs again. you hold aemond's hand, his other arm supports your waist to give you something to lean back. you look up to him to get a kiss. it's needed desperately, and he's quick to give you what you want. your belly gets in the way a bit, but aemond is tall enough to still tower over you, your lips meet just right.

"do you wanna walk with me?" aemond asks. "let's go to kitchen and find something to eat for you."

"a walk would be nice." you say, accepting his lead. "she's moving too much today. it's feels like she's angry at me or something."

"she's just impatient." he defends his girl. "she'll be here soon."

"yes." you say happily, stepping into the kitchen. "we still need to decide a name, though."

you lean against the kitchen counter as aemond takes out some fruits from the fridge. he starts preparing a whole plate of them, pineapples and strawberries. just what you like.

"i mean, at least we have options." he says. "we just decide what feels right when we get to see her."

"mm, okay." you say, not having enough energy to discuss the name thing over again. it's hard to pick it, even harder to stop yourself from thinking another option and trying to decide which will be better.

aemond is done with the fruits, he washes his hands and gets a towel to dry them before reaching for you. "you look like you need to get some sleep." he says with a little smile on his face. he cups your cheeks to kiss your chin.

"but you just made me snacks." you tell him. snacks are important.

"they'll be here when you wake up." aemond reminds you. "i'm done with work today. we can go to bed and wake up at dinner time if you want."

normally it's a shock to hear these words from your husband, he doesn't like spending hours on sleeping during the day. after you started getting more tired though, he tries to stay with you as much as he can. you like having him in bed even when you can't cuddle properly, it's the way he makes you feel safe. also, quality time for your tiny family.

you nod, holding his hand again to go to bed. walking seems a bit harder now, you wrap your free hand around your belly. you're thankful for having aemond's clothes on you, nothing feels restraining at least. you sit on bed and try to find a nice position to lay down.

you don't like having covers on you but aemond still pulls the thin blanket on your legs. he lays down after, keeping his body as close to yours as he can. his hand finds its usual spot on your belly. he's gentle with the way he rubs your skin. you close your eyes, your poor muscles give up.

"why is my girl so restless today, hmm?" he asks softly, leaning to your baby as he talks to her. "you need to give your mommy a break, little love, i don't like seeing her so exhausted."

aemond kisses where your baby's head must be and you feel a sudden comfort spreading all over your body. "keep talking to her, please." you say. you love how he manages to calm both you and your baby.

"you'll be here soon." he says, his fingers meet with her as she moves. "we'll get to choose you a name, and you'll wear your tiny clothes. we need to pick up a teddy bear for you, and decide your favorite color to get you nice dresses. you need to be here to do all that, okay?"

you reach for aemond's hand when you feel sleep taking over you. he keeps talking to your baby, and she finally settles down. he doesn't sleep, he doesn't need to. he can only watch you and stay with you just in case you need anything when you wake up. he gives both of you occasional kisses to remind you of his presence.

[sandinthemachine]

König Workout HC

@itsagrimm and I were having a lot of fun the other day talking about gym König and this is the result, it definitely got away from me. Probably gonna turn it into a drabble or two at some point

When He's Alone

The gym is definitely a safe space for him. He's had to work out pretty intensely as long as he's been in the military, so the pain and pushing his body is second nature to him. He puts on his heaviest metal playlist and immediately enters his own little world

Find him headbanging and bouncing his leg between sets

When he's really into it he'll even make very quiet humming and growling sounds deep in his throat as he's rocking out. He doesn't notice. Do Not Point It Out, he would never recover from the embarrassment

Man does not spend much money on himself, but he DID invest in really nice noise-canceling earbuds that play the bass tones in his music perfectly

Going off of that point, it is almost IMPOSSIBLE to get his attention once he's into the workout. He's taller than everyone else so he can already completely miss people way shorter than him, add that to the fact that he cannot hear anything with the earbuds in, he is barely aware he is in public anymore. You basically have to physically run into him or he will NOT notice you

He can huff a little when his weights get really heavy, but he doesn't tend to grunt or make many sounds

He gets really hyped and energetic, always pushing himself to lift just a little more and do just one more rep. He absolutely LOVES the burn when his body is protesting and enjoys the soreness after almost as much, it's a reminder of what his body can do and he's intensely proud of that

He never asks people to spot him, if he chooses a weight too heavy he just suffers in silence, usually he's stubborn enough to push through it though

Absolutely TERRIBLE at cooling down and stretching afterwards, when he's done he's done and just wants to move to the next thing. He always tells himself he'll stretch at home and then immediately forgets

When You Work Out Together

When you first start getting close the two of you can't STAND working out together. He likes being a lone wolf and doing his own thing while ignoring everything around him, so he's a bit grumpy at first, and then he tries to be supportive of you but turns into more of a drill sergeant, stressing you out even more than when he'd ignore you

But as you two get closer you decide to try again

And this time it's much better

You realize that everyone gives you plenty of space, even the annoying gym bros give you a wide berth and you get to use any machines or weights you want no matter how busy the gym is. You love it.

He's still very intense, but he's gotten better at being supportive about it.

He spots you and encourages you to add just a little more weight or do just one more rep, even if you're telling him you can't he's arguing right back, stubborn as all hell until you try again and

You do it

And he gets REALLY excited

He might even yell out in the middle of the gym

"Yes! I knew you could do it!" "That's MY girl/guy/partner/friend/etc!"

He isn't usually very verbal but you get all the praise every time you push yourself, he gets very bouncy and keeps smiling at you saying how proud he is

When you take breaks he's making sure you're drinking water and checking if you need anything else, he has a horde of all kinds of workout snacks and makes sure to always bring your favorites

And when you're between sets you get to spot him

You usually don't have to do much work but he makes you do it anyway. He secretly likes watching you eye his muscles or touch them as they flex, he worked his ass off for them and loves when you admire them.

On cardio days you assume the two of you can go for a run or maybe a bike ride together, only to find out he's one of those batshit insane people who loves suicide runs. He convinces you to join him once. Never again. You're happy to watch, though. Even if it terrifies you just a little, especially when he gives you a big toothy smile after every lap even as he gets flushed bright red and struggles to breathe.

He is definitely one of those people that gets even more energy after working out, you'll be walking on jelly legs and he'll be all !!! "Let's go for a hike!" but when you're too tired he's just as happy to go for a drive around town getting all the best food (his appetite is IMMENSE esp. after a hard workout), and while he's on that post-workout adrenaline he's almost a different person, bouncing on his heels and getting really excited at everything, grinning at you and getting you to grin and laugh back until both of your cheeks are sore

After you've both showered you like to sit on the couch together doing your own thing, maybe put a movie on in the background. He tends to still have a lot of energy, stimming and tapping his leg with his hands or bouncing in his seat, very content and happy

Eventually, EVENTUALLY, he'll settle down and crash on the couch, sometimes with his head in your lap, sometimes with you climbing into his

When you both wake up sore he'll be grinning at you all over again, hiding his chuckles behind his hand

[hollyhomburg]

Color me pretty

(Bts Little space au)

Summary: When it came to the littles, the caregivers knew there was no better activity than coloring. 

Tags: SFW, implied bts x reader, pure fluff, little space, little! kookie, Little! m/c, Caregivers! bts, 

W/c: 1.5k

A/n: If you don’t like this kind of content please just skip over it and pay it no mind! this is very sweet and fluffy. this can be read alone, but i did use the characters from my other little space ask au titled ‘the peanut butter to my jelly’ it’s linked at the end of the fic!  i wrote this drabble in one sitting! 

- On the nights that Koo and the m/c are non-verbal but still feeling energetic enough to need stimulation the caregivers have a special little ritual that they like to do. 

- it’s something tucked away, always ready to have on hand when they need it, it never fails to calm an overly excited or sugar high little; the blanket made out of a special material that can be washed after it’s doodled on, painted, and made new. 

- On those special days, the caregivers bring around all their ‘messy blankets’ the fort making supplies that no one minds if they get ruined, if koo gets his apple sauce on it or if a sippie mistakenly gets it’s lid taken off. they make a nest in the living room with markers and crayons and they’re allowed to get the blanket as colorful as possible. 

- The blanket is magic in the littles eyes! filled with simple flowers that they can color in as many times as they want! All the laundry fairy (Taehyung) has to do is pop the blanket in the washer and voila! it’s all ready for more coloring! no more marker marks. 

- I just picture her and Koo stretched out on it with half of their stuffed animals for “moral support” while cartoons play in the background coloring to their hearts content. Koo gets a little younger in his headspace sometimes than the m/c though they’re pretty equal in general.

- Eventually koo just gets so small that he forgoes coloring all together, instead busying himself with sucking on the end of a marker. while the m/c just giggles with her tongue hanging out, swinging her feet, the picture of adorable concentration as she struggles to keep her pink marker inside the lines.

- Occasionally one of the caregivers will come in to check on them. And they’d come pet over their heads and koo and the m/c just excitedly gesture to the mess they’ve made! their brains too cottony to make many words other than “flower! made’ pink!!!” koo in his little sing song voice going “flower flower flower~” 

- And whichever caregiver who is on “baby duty” will praise them, today it’s yoongi who takes a second to sit, each of the littles tucked under an arm. yoongi leaning in close and tracing his finger along their pretty lines. “you guys got so far today! almost all of them are filled!” he loves how puffed up both of your chests get at the praise. 

- He can almost tell how far down they were when they first started coloring. on the outside border the flowers are carefully patterned, but the ones just under where you where sitting are full of wilds scribbles. Yoongi reminds himself to take a picture before they wash it, wanting to save a memory of today. 

- “Oh did you make this for us little ones? I bet Joonie’s going to love it you know how much he loves nature! and you even gave each of them little stems.”

- And of course, eventually they find the m/c and koo are asleep in their little puddle of markers. Maybe the m/c has a little bit of purple splotch on her cheek. After they wake them up to put them to bed she whines softly when they clean it off her cheek “oh you poor fussy baby, don’t worry it will only take a second” her cute pout demanding a kiss for every rub.

- Eventually she presses into bed and koo kisses the faintly red spot on her face. his kiss a little wet and open mouthed but so innocent it makes the caregivers bookending them on either side coo. it’s as much of a sorry as koo can articulate right now. his mind feels like marshmellows and stuffed animals, like a too squeezed juice pouch and an empty packet of fruit snacks. totally devoid of big scary thoughts. 

- The caregivers are glad they made the decision to throw out all and every permanent marker in the house after the last little incident when Koo decided that people were a viable canvas. I think their whole house would be full of little doodles from the two littles. When they get big they always blush and say that they don’t need to pin them to every available surface. But the caregivers just shush them because they honestly love their drawings. 

-To the caregivers, their collection of drawings is a representation of the love they have for their two youngest. A mark of a healthy relationship- that they can give love in a way that matters to the two of them. Maybe jimin gets a tattoo of one of their flowers, a little purple one for koo and a pink one for the m/c on his hip at once point. 

- Maybe one day the m/c has what they affectionately call a ‘tiny day’ where she’s small and can’t seem to snap out of it. she tries valiantly, but after that catch her pouting down at her coffee and staring wistfully at her stuffy on the bed they tell her it’s okay. she can be small today and they’ll handle all of the big thoughts. 

- Of course they can’t stay home because they have a track due soon, and alas they are adults, so certain things have to be accounted for. There have been many times that the m/c has had to pretend to be at least a little big in public, luckily for the caregivers their littles are always remarkably well behaved. 

- They treat it as a game, today, bunny is a secret agent and cannot be discovered by anyone, sent to protect the princess. Nothing can happen to her as long as bunny’s there. But no one can see bunny- or else his powers are nullified. It does the trick. They love to see her nodd seriously when Tae weaves the story for her. it makes their heart hurt when they catch her talking to the bunny. “i gots you.” it makes it so hard to seperate from her for the day. 

- Seokjin packs up a day bag and gets her in the comfiest clothes possible and she spends the whole day quietly coloring in the corner of Joonie’s studio with her favorite bunny stuffie in her lap. She’s always careful to tuck him under her blanket and hide him whenever someone comes knocking, pretending to tap away on Namjoon’s tablet, but luckily no one pays her much mind, used to her presence. 

- When the noise and the stimulation gets too much for her namjoon puts her in a pair of noise canceling headphones that play soft nature sounds and pretty soon when he turns around to check on her he finds she’s nodded off in his couch. And he gets up to fix the blanket around her before he goes back to work for a few more hours. 

- She’s still asleep when the others finish up and decide to pry joonie away from work (a feat in itself) and when the others softly knock at the door she gets up, all bleary-eyed and honestly half-asleep rubbing at her eyes with a closed fist. almost tripping in happiness when she sees jungkook. hitting into his chest with a little ooof, almost tripping to get out of her blanket. So excited to see him- her favorite playmate “Koo play now!? koo get tiny!!!??” 

- Already the stress is weighing on Jungkook’s shoulders, his eyes getting all misty when he sees her bunny and the blanket and just wants to regress so bad. He starts to help her clean up the day bag but seokjin and Namjoon ease him away from it.

-  “You’ve got to watch her for us Kookie, can you do that? can you be a good boy?” by now they know how to softly nudge Jungkook into his headspace and it does the trick, lets him have a task before he can truly let go. they end up giggling softly with their foreheads pressed up against each other, telling stupid little jokes that are no doubt from jin and playing with each others hands. 

- On the ride Home, they both hold onto one of bunnies ears in the backseat of their car. Their heads loling by the time they pull into their safe underground parking garage ready for some snuggles and probably a nice relaxing bath for kookie because he hates feeling sweaty from practice when he’s little. He Just wants to sit and play with some bubbles and bath toys while someone runs shampoo through his hair, the soft-smelling kind that's meant for babies.

- Inevitably Koo always looks up from his bubble bath and points at himself and says “baby?” Hobi nods sagely while smoothing his hair into a goofy mohawk, “baby” he agrees.  

- But that’s not exactly true- the better term would be ‘their babies’

~Fin~ 

Please reblog and comment! Likes are nice- but they do little to support content creators! 

(You can find more little space content here)

[kass-storycorner]

Rainbow Anon~

Hhhhuuuu, those sleeping asks where so cute!? Do you think you could another part with Diluc, Zhongli and Albedo having come home late, but their s/o has a nightmare later on the night due to stress? (hurt/comfort plz lol)

//I said that I needed to stop simping for all of the characters but, I literally cannot physically do that. Everybody is so beautiful;;;!!

Aaaah, hello Rainbow anon! Thank you, I'm glad you liked them!!! Also never stop simping, they really are all beautiful. Genshin is at this point a "character I simp for"-collector haha And now on to the request, thanks for sending this in, I've been struggling with every other piece I've been working on the last days so idk writing these small drabble / bullet point fics is a nice change. Though I have to apologise that the Albedo s/o hc is the only one that actually doesn’t really fulfils the request…

And I didn’t add Zhongli, I had this request for a while now in my drafts, Albedo and Diluc finished but idk I couldn’t come up with something for Zhongli and it frustrated me so now I’m posting it like this 😩

Nighttime headcanon part II. - Nightmare headcanon

Genre: Angst with comfort

Rating: SFW

Content Warnings: none I guess

Characters: Albedo, Diluc,

Format: Bullet points / HC

Albedo

Ah, he did it again. Albedo didn't intend to stay so long at the laboratory inside of the headquarters of the knights again. To be honest he had planned to come home earlier that night, but alas - he didn’t notice the passing of time again until Sucrose knocked on the door, pulling him out of the trance he gets into when he works and reminding him of the time.

When Albedo opened the door to the shared apartment it was already filled with darkness again. A deep sigh left him as he took of his coat and shoes, making his way towards the shared bedroom. He really missed going to bed with you. It was so different than joining in bed, there were no sweet good night kisses nor wishes.

Though when he walked into the bedroom he didn’t expect to see this. Normally you would sleep peacefully, the only noises coming from you would be your snores. But when Albedo saw your sleeping body in bed tonight there seemed nothing peaceful about you.

It looked like you have been tossing and turning in bed for a while, the blanket didn’t cover your body, it was already halfway on the floor. But your face was the give away - you looked so scared.

Slowly Albedo made his way to the bed, sitting down next to you, still in his clothes, not sure what he should do. It would be best to wake you up, wouldn’t it?

“No… don’t”, he heard you whimper. He really should wake you up. But something, maybe it was is damned curiosity, in him wanted to hear more. Albedo wanted to know what scared you so much in your sleep.

“Albedo, please- albedo-“ ah, a sharp pain made it’s way through Albedos heart. What were you having a nightmare about that involved him?

Albedo wanted to know more, wanted to hear more. But he couldn’t stomach how scared you sounded, scared of him, so he gently put his hand on your hair, stroking it in the hopes it might sooth your dream.

However at the touch you woke up, looking directly in Albedos eyes. Before he could say anything tears already made their way down your face, hands and arms wrapping around Albedos waist and hiding your face in his stomach.

“Hey, hey it’s fine. I’m here. It was just a nightmare”, he said in a quite and gentle voice.

But that’s it - it didn’t feel like a nightmare at all to you. The moment you woke up the dream already was forgotten, except for the last thing you saw in it. You remembered the bitter feeling of betrayal, heartbreak and you were so scared. So horribly scared. The last imagine that burned itself into your head was Albedos face, looking at you with an blank expression, his eyes empty from all of the love he had for you. It felt more like a horrible future and not a nightmare.

This was nothing you felt like you could tell Albedo… it sounded quite silly, didn’t it? And the way Albedo looks at you right now, eyes filled with worry but so much love for you. There was no way those eyes would grow cold one day, would there?

Diluc

The last few weeks have been extremely stressful, for you and Diluc. With festivities right around the corner and many new visitors in Mondstadt because of them, Diluc and you had your hands filled.

Diluc for once more as the owner of Dawn Winery than the ‘Dark Knight Hero’ ah how much he despises that name

While yes, the crime rates and suspicious behaviour just grew with the amount of new people that visited Mond - but so did the demand for his alcohol. And after some incidents with slimes and some inefficient knights - Diluc had his hands full, day and night.

And you? You were busy yourself with your work, the festivities tripled your workload too and the worst about it was: there was no time to see Diluc for more than a few minutes awake.

When you went to bed he wasn’t there and when you woke up - rarely the past weeks was he asleep next to you (only once to be honest). Most of the time he was already awake again (or maybe still awake, you couldn’t tell at how short your encounters have become).

Diluc felt horribly guilty about how he didn’t spend any time with you. Yes you both were quite busy the last weeks, but even he could feel how the stress and the lack of your sight slowly tore him down.

So tonight he decided to skip his duties as Mondstadts protector - just for this one night, wanting to spend it with you. But even then, when he arrived home, entering the shared bedroom he saw you already asleep. It wasn’t too late in the evening, but he figured that you were just exhausted. And honestly? He was too.

So Diluc decided to lay down beside you, maybe you both couldn’t spend some time awake again but for now this must be enough. Though Diluc promises to himself that once all of this madness is over again to give you the attention you deserved.

The moment Diluc took his place beside you in bed, he noticed a small shift in your behaviour. Your breathing wasn’t calm like normally and how did Diluc just notice the way your brows furrowed. It looked like you had a nightmare.

Carefully he took you in his arms, hoping to give you the comfort you need for the nightmare to end. But it did not. It seemed like it was just getting worse and when you started to cry in your sleep was when Diluc had enough.

Softly he wiped away the tears, whispering “hey (y/n), it’s fine. Wake up, it’s just a dream, it’s okay”.

His soft touch and quite words woke you up, finding yourself in his arms. What? How and when?

You pressed your face into his chest, taking in his smell. Ah. How much you missed him, all of it. You felt how Diluc planted a kiss on your head.

“Are you alright Darling?”, he asks and you sigh at the sound of his voice, at with how much love and concern in it he asks. You shift a bit, now being able to see in his eyes in the dark. “It’s fine I’m- I’m just stressed.” His thumb trailed the dark circles under your eyes. “To me it seems like you are more than stressed.”

“I just couldn’t sleep because of it that well the last days, it’s fine”, at your words Diluc shot you a look of concern. “It’s not okay, since when do you have these nightmares?”. You hid your face again in his chest before mumbling out your answer. “It’s only when I sleep alone.”

Diluc felt a wave of guilt go through him. Only having those nightmares when you slept alone? Now to come to think of it, Diluc hasn’t slept next to you in the past few days (that idiot hasn’t slept much at all)

Squeezing you in his arms he lays his chin down on your head, promising you that you won’t have to fall asleep alone anymore. And he’s here now. It’s okay.

After a while you fall asleep, Diluc listening to your calm and soft breathing until he falls asleep himself.

Both of you had to wake up early that morning, but when Adeleine walked into the bedroom to wake you - ah, you two looked so peaceful in bed together and she just hadn’t the heart to disturb that peace.

[author-morgan]

Hi, i was woundering if you were doing requests and if you are can i request M eivor x F reader, where he finds her crying or she feels down and he comforts her, please.

sorry it took so long, but i hope you enjoy this little drabble! ♥

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

ANOTHER BATCH OF honey cakes ruined. You sigh, watching the crows and songbirds peck at the burnt remains scattered behind the bakery, wondering how much larger their feast will grow before you’ll have something fit to serve your Jarl for the spring feast. Eivor is more than just your Jarl, though. He is one of your dearest friends of many years —and the one person always willing to put his stomach on the line to sample what sweets you craft. Honey cakes happen to be his favorite, and you’ve made them more times than you care to count, but it's as though the gods are against you today. 

Sliding another batch into the stone oven, you take to a stool, watching with a keen and focused eye. Not about to let more flour and eggs go to the bad. It’s not but a minute or two later that Tekla appears in the doorway, asking for a hand in rolling one of the mead barrels onto a cart to take to Grantebridge. Thinking it a quick chore, you agree to help, certain you'd return in time to tend the honey cakes. But you should have known it would take longer than what Tekla said —the scent of bread almost to burn fills the air and sends you in panic.

Using the linen of your apron, you grip onto the handle of the cooking pan. It takes a moment before the heat of the metal handle seeps through the thin fabric, though when it does, you drop the pan with a yelp, unable to get the pan to the table. Hands red and blistered, you look down at another ruined batch scattered across the earth and plank floor of the bakery —one final crack in the dam of your resolve, enough to let loose a flood of emotion. It feels silly, crying over burnt sweets, but you can’t help it. 

Floorboards creak as someone steps through the doorway. You spare a glance —seeing Sýnin take to pecking at crumbs on the floor before you see him. He slides onto the bench across from you at the table, brows furrowed. and concern written in his clear blue eyes when he notices the tear tracks on your cheeks and the dampness around your eyes you try to hide with a wipe of a sleeve. “Eivor,” you sniffle, finally deciding to sit up and meet his kindly gaze. He doesn’t like to see you in distress, and he especially doesn’t like seeing you cry. 

Eivor takes your wrists, seeing how you hold your hands against your chest —knowing you’re hiding something. “Your hands,” he frowns, looking at your red and blistered fingers and palms. You won’t be baking anything else for a little while with those burns, especially if they don’t get cleaned and bandaged. A soft sigh escapes his lips. It won’t be the first time he’s helped patch you from a mishap in the bakery, and —much to his disliking— he knows it probably won’t be the last either. Rising from the bench, he moves around the table. “Come,” he breathes, helping you stand, “let’s get you taken care of.”

He motions for you to sit on his bed in the longhouse while he plunders through chests and small boxes for a roll of linens and one of the Valka’s salves. Eivor kneels before you, pressing a cool, damp rag against one of your hands and then the other. You watch, lips twitching upward at how careful he is, and how mindful he is of the rough spots on his own hands while working. “What were you doing?” The question snaps you from the daze and brings the color of shame rushing to your cheeks. 

You look away, biting down on your lip as he spreads the chamomile salve across your other palm. “Wanted to make you some honey cakes,” you admit, not meeting his soft gaze yet, “but kept burning them.” Just the thought of watching the crows feast is enough to make your stomach churn and eyes water. Messing up a recipe you’ve made over and over again for nigh twenty years after the added stresses of helping Randvi and the others during Eivor and Sigurd’s absences was too much. 

It’s wrong of him to laugh at your misfortune and distress, but Eivor’s lips tug into a smile, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips. You are too good to him, and he knows it. Tying off a final knot in the second bandage, he wipes his hands on his britches and moves beside you on the bed, draping an arm around your shoulders to draw you into his chest, lips ghosting above your forehead. There’s something about Eivor’s embraces —the warm comfort that makes everything feel like it’ll be okay in the end.

“As much as I love your honey cakes,” he muses, “I’d prefer you not hurt yourself trying to make them.” That shameful flush races up to your cheeks again, but before it can surface, Eivor brushes back messy wisps of hair and leans in, kissing your forehead —his golden beard tickling your cheek and nose. “Besides” –a larger smile twists his lips– “you’re sweet as any honey cake.” Sweeter even.

At one time, you would have said you were immune to Eivor’s flattery, but it's become increasingly difficult as of late to ignore the way his sweet words make you feel —and more than a few times you’ve caught his lingering gaze watching you with an unfamiliar gleam in his clear blue eyes. Eivor may be your dearest friend, but he’s also the man you cannot help but love. “Eivor,” you chide, eyes flitting down to study the linen wrapped around your hands. 

Eivor cups your cheek, tilting your chin up so you can see he's being sincere. “Why don’t we make them together?” He proposes, unable to deny a fresh honey cake would be welcome. You lift a brow, a silent challenge. Eivor has helped you bake in the past —taking pans from the oven and scrubbing dishes mostly, but the image of Eivor elbow deep in flour is an amusing one. “You can tell me what to do, and with two sets of eyes, we won’t let them burn.” He smiles, nudging your ribs lightly.

“Deal,” you agree, glad to know you’ll have him all to yourself for the rest of the day. You mean to kiss his cheek in thanks —for tending your burnt hands— instead, you find your lips against Eivor’s and little desire to shy away. He turned his head at the last moment to see you smile, but this was certainly better. In all your foolish daydreams, you’d never been able to imagine how his lips would feel against yours. They are softer than you expected and gentler. You sigh against his parted lips when his fingers trail along your cheek and jaw, slipping back into your hair —not eager to part— and all the reassurance you need to know he feels the same.

[taglist:  @angstyoutlaw @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelaen ] if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[sparklingchan]

Phenomenal you are || Choi Jongho(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Jongho

Word count : 2.1k+

Warnings : cuss words.

Genre : Fluff, angst if you look with a microscope, romance, rock band au.

Description: In which, a band practice for the Annual Winter Festival brings Jongho to finally face his true feelings for you. 

A/N : I wrote for ateez after soooo long. I’ve been pre occupied kinda but I’ve written a few drabbles to post from time to time. 

Enjoy!

In the quiet summer afternoon , while the sun is at its most cruel forms and the rest of the world is enjoying their holiday at the pool, the only sound that can be heard from Hongjoong's old car garage is the soft strumming of Jongho's acoustic guitar. Lazy and unmotivated.

"We need a singer." Hongjoong says with a sigh louder than Wooyoung's laugh as all the boys stare at him.

How dare he!

The tension in the air is so thick someone could cut it with a knife and though no one breaks the silence, they know what is to come next.

Jongho stares at Hongjoong, eyes big with curiosity and mouth gaping, half expecting Hongjoong to suddenly start laughing and declare it all a prank.

"We really need a singer." Hongjoong stresses on every word yet again. That's a combination of words he never thought he'd hear the older boy say yet here they were.

"Man, come on, we already have Wooyoung and Jongho. We don't need another singer." Mingi groans, absent-mindedly playing with his drum sticks. His foot is slightly tapping against the bass drum pedal.

Jongho and Wooyoung shake their heads in agreement but Hongjoong looks unconvinced. Like always.

"But the rules for The Winter Music festival are clear. They said that a band needs to have a separate singer along with the instrument players. Or else they won't be allowed to participate!" Hongjoong argues.

Jongho sighs with frustration. He loves singing as much as he loves playing the guitar, but if he had to choose between one, he'd always choose the former. He can't let someone new take his place as the voice of the band.

It hurt his ego more than he'd like to admit to his friends.

"I'll stop playing the guitar. I'll just sing." He suggests, although he's immediately met with Hongjoong's disapproval.

"Don't be fucking ridiculous. Who will play the guitar then? I play the keyboard and Wooyoung is on the bass. We can't play the guitar!"

There he is, leader Hongjoong, who's always right.

"Fine. Fine. So does anyone have any singers in mind? Should we hold a small audition or..?" Mingi says.

Wooyoung smirks at Jongho's direction, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Dude, its your chance to shine. Come on. Tell them."

Except Wooyoung can't whisper. He can only yell.

"What? Tell us what?" Hongjoong questions.

"Oh, you know y/n right? She sings really well. She has a YouTube channel too." Wooyoung exclaims, walking as far away from Jongho as possible.

Jongho elbows the older boy right in his stomach.

"Y/n? As in Jongho's y/n?" Mingi asks with a mischievous grin.

Jongho hides his face in his hands, cheeks burning red as an unknown combination of happiness and embarrassment wash over.

The sound of your name always makes him feel vulnerable yet he cannot bring himself to hate this new found side of his personality.

Were you truly Jongho's? He didn't know. But did he want you to be his? Obviously, yes.

"So who's going to talk to her?" Hongjoong asks, actually considering it.

Jongho is beyond exasperated at this point, "Hey! We can hold a small audition or something. I'm sure there are other singers who'd want to try out?"

"Do you really want that ?" Wooyoung teases.

No, he doesn't. He doesn't think there's any better singer out there than you. Your honey like voice with the most beautiful texture ever gifted to a human and the way your eyes close in concentration when you feel the music right in your bones always makes him feel weak in the knees. He wants to be able to watch it all live and not from behind a laptop screen.

"Fine. I'll talk to y/n."

No one reacts because they already know Jongho could never say no to anything that involves you.

*

"I'm not very confident, Jongho, I'm telling you!" You cry out loud as you walk down the unfamiliar road with Jongho close by your side, not paying heed to any of your protests.

When Jongho first asked you to join his infamous band as the lead singer, you were sure he was joking. But he insisted that he wasn't and the serious expression plastered on his face showed nothing but honesty so you let yourself believe him.

Of course, you did throw around your own set of tantrums which you were sure irritated him, even so he somehow manages to take you to the boys' practicing session in Kim Hongjoong 's garage.

"Y/n, please, you and I both know you're the best choice. Mind you, Hongjoong personally discarded the idea of an audition just to save this position for you!"

Lies. It was him that had said no to the prospect of holding an open and fair audition for all the students of their school. Because he only ever wanted you.

"Why do I feel like you're buttering me." You mutter to yourself but Jongho obviously hears you, and a smile crawls its way onto his lips.

The garage is old and a little small, you notice the moment you enter the place, but that place also has everything you ever dreamed of - instruments, good mics, a band who wanted you to be their lead singer, and Jongho.

"Hey, y/n! I'm so glad you actually came. You know Jongho's never been the most convincing man on earth, right?" Wooyoung greets you, his fingers busy fiddling with the tuning keys of his bass guitar.

You smile, "I think he convinced me well enough though. "

You shoot Jongho a shy glance, only to find him staring right back at you, his eyes reflecting the same yearning as yours do. The sides of his mouth are slowly curving into a grin, and the thumping in your chest increases as you watch him blush under the warm, afternoon sunlight.

Ethereal is what he looks like to you.

Mingi clears his throat, breaking the unexpectedly long eye contact, "Guys, come on. We have to practice."

And with that begins your musical journey with the boys.

There were really nice and welcoming and made you feel very comfortable. It almost felt like you were...home.

Within weeks, you had gotten so close to the guys, one would almost confuse you of having known each other for a long time when in reality you guys barely talk to each other at school. And nothing would have changed if you hadn't joined the band.

And on the other hand, we have Choi Jongho. Nice and sweet and talented and has heart eyes for you and only you, yet with your new found friendship with the other boys, he finds a foreign feeling of insecurity settling down in his heart, like foreign sediments in fresh water.

Until a few days ago, you were his little secret, his only friend out of his normal social circle at school, he had you all to himself. But now that his other friends have started showing equal interest in you, he feels neglected, jealous even. Though he would die rather than mention it you or the boys.

"We're going for ice cream. Come on." Wooyoung unlocks the door to Mingi's car, and slides is as if it were his own, "I'm driving."

Hongjoon mutters a warning under his breath before sitting in the front passenger's seat while Mingi follows suit, and sits behind them.

"When was this decided?" Jongho leans against the car's door , an irritated expression etched onto his face. His forehead is creased, his eyes alert and his hands are stuffed in his pocket - he looks displeased  .

"When you were in the toilet. What's the big deal." Wooyoung says impatiently.

Jongho looks at you, his forehead crease deepening, "Why didn't you tell me?"

You are taken aback; in all honesty, you hadn't thought it was such a great deal to him. The five of you were just going for ice cream. Its not a life or death situation.

"I-I didn't think it was that important. " you reply.

Jongho scoffs, a sarcastic smile on his lips, "You didn't think it was important to tell me we were going somewhere? I see, I wasn't wrong to think you'd finally sidelined me. "

"Jongho, what are you even saying?" You say, exasperated.

Jongho has never been a man of too many words, or too many gestures. He doesn't have the habit of beating around the bush. Which is why is words are often too honest, too harsh.

You knew this, yet you couldn't help but feel a sting when Jongho accuses you of sidelining him. It feels like your chest is on fire.

"Dude, just get in the car. What's gotten into you?" Hongjoong says.

You are utterly confused - you couldn't believe Choi Jongho is throwing tantrums over something so trivial - the man who is known for his high tolerance and abundant patience.

"Nah, I'm good." Jongho pulls away from the door and turns on his heels , "See you guys tomorrow!"

And with that, he walks in the opposite direction, toward his house. And needless to say, he doesn't even bother sparing a single glance at you.

"Should I go after him?" You ask out of impulse, but you do mean it.

What's the point of going with the guys when your mind would anyway be preoccupied with Jongho?

"Not to play cupid, y/n, but yeah, I think you should." Hongjoong sighs, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows .

You nod, closing the door, "I'll see you guys later then."

"Give him a smack in the head while you're at it ,y/n." Mingi chuckles, shaking his head.

"Oh, I will."

*

Jongho had not walked far enough yet, making it easier for you to run up behind him.

"Oi! Jongho! Wait."

Now, Jongho is sure he's making up things in his head because he genuinely believes you’d not have left the boys behind just to chase him. Well, prove him wrong now, y/n, will you?

"Jongho! " you yell again and this time he stops in his tracks, not having the guts to turn around yet curious enough to wait for you.

"What?" He demands without sparing you a glance still his eyes somehow manage to stare at your shadow on the concrete of the street, "Why didn't you go?"

You quickly catch up to him, though the run exhausts you badly but you convince yourself it's worth it.

If it's for Jongho, everything is worth it.

"Because its no fun without you. "

Jongho had built up this weak wall around him, a wall meant to protect his fragile heart from being broken but there has never been anything as fragile and delicate as this wall - and the words that leave your mouth does exactly that.

"Y/n, I-" he begins but you cut him off.

"Uh, no. Firstly, you owe me an apology for all that you said before, and secondly, you owe me a whole tub of ice cream because I chose my crush over ice cream and that is not done."

You'd never been the best at confessions, really, and before today You'd never felt the need for it either. Yet here you are. Confessing to Jongho as if it were the most natural thing to do.

"You - what?" He asks in disbelief, his body growing warm under your intimidating gaze.

Y/n just confessed to you, dumb ass, wake up!

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get too ahead of yourself." You roll your eyes, wrapping a shaky arm around his.

"Do you really mean it, y/n?" He asks in the most sincere voice, the tremble in his voice giving him away completely.

Jongho doesn't deny your touch but he does look away from you, his face scrunching in a peculiar way.

You don't know if he's crying or laughing or about to combust, but whatever it is , the slight blush on his cheeks and the softness of his eyes makes you feel all mushy inside.

"Of course! " you whine, "Why don't you believe me?"

Jongho pulls you closer and then wraps his arms around you - like how he'd seen people do in those stupid rom com movies. And when you hug him back , placing the softest kiss on his cheek, he realises how relieved he is.

“I believe you.” He sighs, “And I like you, too.”

And he realises how much more special this feels than the scenarios he’d often make up in his head. He realises how terribly sweet you smell, how radiant your laughter is and how phenomenal you are.

[hey-there-juliet]

Random Drabble Day (2/23)

Summary: First off, let me just say that this is more like a one-shot than a drabble because I'm a wordy bitch and I cannot control myself 😅

That said, I always had a hard time imagining Julie writing some of the Perfect Harmony's lyrics about herself, so I thought why not make this just another song that Luke and Julie wrote together? This is set somewhere between Finally Free and Edge of Great, in that week when Ray was stress-eating. This is supposed to fit back into the show at the end, so it might seem like a cliffhanger, but it's not.

Quick shout out to @jamestkirkish for betaing this for me! I love you and you are amazing! Any remaining mistakes are my own. And to the fabulous Sloan, for helping me out with Luke's handwriting! Enjoy 🧡

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Relationship: Juke 💜

in the great scheme of life and ghosts

No matter how many times Luke insisted that she had been snooping through his things, Julie knew for a fact that she had done no such thing. In reality, she had simply been cleaning the studio when she came across it.

For three ghosts who didn't eat and could barely even touch anything most of the time, the boys sure knew how to make a mess. Every morning Julie would walk into the studio to find the chairs or coffee table rearranged, at least one of the rugs was always askew, and the clothes... the clothes were everywhere, and the worst part was: they reeked. 

And so every morning before leaving for school Julie would shoot them a stern look and tell them to pick up after themselves. Which they did - when she got back home, things were mostly in their rightful place. Still, every weekend Julie would make sure to take a moment away from homework and rehearsal to tidy the place up to perfection, just like her mom liked it. She'd dust off the furniture, water the plants, sweep the floor, and even vacuum the whole place. One Saturday when she was home alone (her dad photographing a wedding, and Carlos at a friend's house), she even went through the trouble of washing all of the guys' old clothes. 

Somehow, and she didn't even want to think about how that worked, the clothes didn't stink when they were actually wearing them, but at any other moment when they made no contact with their skin? Yeah... not good. So she washed them all (three times, using every trick and product she had). She washed them a fourth time for good measure and, by the time she was finished, any traces of twenty-five year old mold was gone, and so was the smell.

So no, she was not snooping - no matter what Luke said - when she came across the crumpled paper ball between the couch and the low cabinet, just behind a big vase her mom had gotten from tía Victoria.

Julie sighed, making a mental note to tell Luke to put his discarded ideas in the bin (again) if he didn't want them anymore, when one scribbled and wrinkled word caught her attention: Perfect Ha-

She bit her lip, staring down at the teasing word. Perfect what? Was it lyrics? Maybe half formed ideas? Doodles? Julie knew Luke liked to doodle in the margins of his notebook whenever he got stuck trying to come up with the next best piece of lyric or melody. She also knew she should probably just leave it alone, put it with his stuff to ask him later if he wanted to keep it, or put it in the garbage. Except the more she glanced down at that damn word, the stronger she felt it pull her towards uncovering whatever else the crumpled paper ball was hiding. 

In the end, the pull was too strong. She'd just take a quick look, make sure it wasn't anything important before she threw it away. And, she reasoned with herself, trying to squish the guilt that was making itself known in the pit of her stomach: Luke had gotten rid of it, so he clearly didn't care much for whatever was in there. 

Not able to resist any longer, Julie carefully unfolded the paper, slowly making her way towards the piano and using its surface as a table to help smooth the page over.

Luke's (horrendous) handwriting covered it with the bare bones of a song, random lines were scribbled in the margins with a couple of doodles for company, and even a little note from their bassist - ‘Reggie was here ;)’.

It took her a minute before the chicken scratches became words, and then Julie's breath left her in a rush, as the guilty feeling in her stomach turned into butterflies and flew away with her imagination. 

It was a song, parts of one, anyway, and - more importantly - it was a love song.

Unprompted, her own words came back to her, "Wow, Luke! I didn't know you were such a romantic." Quickly followed by Alex's short reply, "He's not."

She knew now who Unsaid Emily was really about, but these new words were clearly about a different kind of love. The romantic kind, and Julie couldn't help letting herself believe - just for a moment - that the song might be about her.

Before she could let herself be carried away in a daydream, there was a - now familiar - shift in the air, a sound almost like static, the only thing letting her know of a ghost's appearance. Without a thought, she crumpled the page again and shoved the paper ball in her pocket for later inspection. 

"Hey, Julie!" Reggie's cheerful greeting sounded across the studio from where he had poofed in, and soon - with his "help," bless him - Julie was finished with her weekend clean up. 

As if summoned by the end of her chores, Luke poofed in, ready to rehearse. Alex soon followed; and by the time Julie retired for the night, the song had been almost forgotten where it hid inside her pocket. 

Almost.

***

After getting ready for the night, Julie settled on her bed with the wrinkled page and her dreambox. She read over the words again and again, imagining they were about her.

Step into my world, 

Bittersweet love story about a girl 

Shook me to the core 

Voice like an angel, 

I've never heard before, 

- 

You and me together, it's more than chemistry 

- 

Love me as I am 

I hold your music 

Here inside my hands 

- 

You are my brightest burning star 

- 

We create Perfect Harmony.

And unless Luke had been singing with another girl, there didn't seem to be many options on who it could be about, right?

From the beginning, Julie had felt something connecting her to him; to all of them, in different ways. But Luke had been the one to give her a little piece of his soul right after meeting her when he let her use Bright to earn back her spot in the music program. Seeing his passion reflecting back on her, the way he treated music like she used to, made her miss it more than anything for the first time in almost a year. It made her miss the way it felt to use music to connect with her mom.

After they spent a whole weekend finishing each other's songs and working on new ones, getting to know each other's inner workings - the part of them that bled out feelings into paper to create beautiful melodies, Julie knew she was a goner. Finding out he'd been the one to write the words that shaped her taste in rock certainly didn't help. Like he'd been helping her find her way to music long before they even met.

Her crush on him had been inevitable from the start, and while falling for him was probably one of the worst things she could’ve done, it was too late to stop it. She'd been free falling for a while, and hopefully she'd land in his arms soon enough. Reading over his words again gave Julie a warm fluttering in her stomach that made her think he was more than ready to catch her once she reached the ground. 

Carefully folding the piece of paper, she put it inside her dreambox, then placed the box back on the shelf.

***

The following week went by without any hiccups. Every once in a while, Julie would remember Luke's song and a familiar warmth would fill her up, leaving a soft smile on her lips and glazed eyes staring off at nothing. Just as often, Flynn would have to shake her out of her daydreams.

She didn't think much would come of it until her dad decided to throw the band a party so he could film them and post their video on YouTube. Which was fine. Amazing, even. It was most certainly great! Until Luke came to the school, staring at her with his stupid, beautiful, awed eyes, and with his soft, perfect smile, saying things that made her combust and melt, all at the same time.

"I think you make me a better writer." 

    "I think we make each other better."

Calling Nick 'Luke' was bad enough, but slipping into a complete musical sequence as she danced with him? "Goner" didn't even begin to describe her. 

Like the other times they'd written together, the lyrics flowed through her, finishing the song he'd started with the same ease as one would take a breath.

Julie knew that whatever was going on between her and Luke couldn't happen or, if it did, it couldn't last. In fact, in the great scheme of life and ghosts, she didn't know much, but what she did know was that - be it in life or in death - love was constant. 

He didn't need to have a heartbeat or to be able to touch her for her to love him. He was just as real to her as the next person, and whether it would hurt in the long run or not, it didn't matter. 

She knew Flynn was only looking out for her, but that ship had sailed, and Julie was already so lost in his ocean eyes that avoiding eye contact wasn't going to bring it back. She would entertain her though, even knowing it wouldn't work. Just like the tide, eventually he'd pull her right back in.

She could love him just as he was, for however long they had together, and especially after that.

-

End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it! And, if you'll notice, at the beginning it kind of gives off the impression that Luke eventually finds out about the song and Julie tells him how she found it. Which may or may not lead you to believe that they're in a relationship. I guess it all depends on interpretation though ;)

Oh, also! Shout out to the chaos squad folks that guessed right! You guys are no fun :( /j lmao

[tickle-bugs]

Hi! Do you have any advice for those who want to start writing?

Yes! So honored you asked. I'll put it below the cut. Other writers, feel free to chime in!

(Gearing this specifically towards tickle fics because, well, *gestures around*)

- Mentioned it a whole bunch in my other advice post but it really is a big deal: Write for yourself. I cannot stress it enough. Whatever you like to write, make sure you're having fun and you're writing what you like.

- Find your style! There is no krabby patty formula for The Ideal Style. Everyone has different preferences. Your preferences matter most! If you like all caps laughter dialogue? Great! No laughter dialogue at all? Cool! Reader fics? Nice! First person fics? Sick (pos)! Most people emulate the things that they like to read in their writing and I think that's a great place to start! I like 3rd person POV with an internal monologue and that's what I stick to, pretty much.

- Follow your inspirations. Okay so this one, yes, but be careful. If you like someone's writing or style, there's nothing wrong with emulating it/borrowing bits. That's how I learned to draw, actually (and how most artists learn their craft). If you like a certain author and they do something you like, try it out for yourself! I personally am not a fan of laughter dialogue, so I looked to the amazing writers around me to see how they describe laughs/sensation. It's a great way to learn, because your voice and style will filter through. What this doesn't mean, though, is plagiarizing. Not to sound like a school teacher but if it ain't yours, don't use it.

- Your style will change. Embrace it. I have improved so much since my first fics, and I did that by embracing change. Changing things up is good, actually, and it helps keep things fresh for you! Take a risk, switch something up, etc. It'll help avoid feeling like your fics are stale.

- Writing is practice. The only way you can possibly learn is by doing it. Whether or not you have a blog, just get writing! Try things out! Pick a pairing/group/character and experiment. That's how I started my blog in the first place. I posted a few FinnPoe experiments that I had and decided that I liked it here. Practice, practice, practice, my loves. Don't crunch or make yourself miserable.

- (re: write for yourself, writing is practice) if you find yourself writing fics for the sake of writing/attention, not because you enjoy it, then step back. I had...trauma relating to creating any sort of fandom content because of this. Not everything is gonna be sunshine and roses (talked about in the next point), but if you feel miserable, it's okay to take a break. I don't want to lean too heavily on this, but if you'd like to read more on it, this post about covers it.

- You don't have to like everything you make, okay? You really don't. Don't let anyone tell you that you do. Not every fic is gonna be the Mona Lisa, either. I have many a fic that I've made that I loathe--some posted, some not. Sometimes you run out of steam, sometimes the idea doesn't blossom how you want, sometimes you just fall out of love with a fic. That's okay and normal. Just try to learn from the creative experience for your next go around.

- Taking prompts is hard. Don't hurt yourself. This...is one I need to get better at. If you're looking to run a blog and take prompts (which you don't have to do, btw), that's so cool and funky fresh of you, but do so with your health in mind. Please. If you get a prompt for something you don't like/are uncomfortable with, you don't have to write it. If you are creating content, you have no obligation to create anything that makes you uncomfortable.

If you wanna take prompts, take a number you can handle and the ones that inspire you most. If you have to decline a prompt, that's totally fine. Start and don't finish? That's okay too. People may be disappointed, but you matter more than that disappointment. I can talk more about taking prompts in another post if anyone's interested but I'll leave it at that for now.

- (Re: writing is practice) Get going! Easier said than done, I know, but really do get going. No amount of theorizing is gonna get a fic done, just do it. Try it out. You and your writing are worthy and ever-growing. The writers you idolize are likely agonizing over a WIP or five (hey writers go write a sentence on one of your WIPs rn). Take the leap and try.

- It's okay to work on a fic little by little. I have literally 30+ fics cooking at the moment. Every once in a while I add a paragraph or two. Sometimes I get inspired and write a fic or two in one go. I've had WIPs I've been sitting on since my blog's inception (*casts a sidelong glance at the Home Again series*) and that's perfectly okay. You'll see some people churning out fics every week. If that's you, great! If that's not you, that's okay. Be gentle with yourself.

- (Re: writing is practice, get going) Headcanons and drabbles do wonders for inspiration. I do this all the time. Tell us your thoughts on a character, write something short, etc. It's a great way to dip your toes in the water. Ask for headcanon requests if you want! I have a headcanon tag and I treat it like my spice rack when I write. Not only will writing little bite-sized bits help your brain get going, you'll be able to lean on these bits for later works. Do one of those little "send me a character" ask memes! Reblog a sentence starter list and ask for submissions! Or just do them on your own! Get going.

- Submit fics if you want! My submission box is open (I only take SFW submissions at the moment) and other writers likely take them too. Send an ask/message and ask the person (me included) if it's okay to submit something, and they'll host that fic on their blog! This is ideal for anon writers who don't want to/can't run a blog. I always sing the praises of having a blog because there's nothing better than having a space that's yours, but if you're nervous, that's an excellent place to start. Make sure you follow any submission rules that person may have (and sign your work)! AO3 is an excellent avenue as well.

- EDIT: Writing is like riding a bike. It may take some time for you to get used to it/get into a groove you’re happy with. That’s okay. Take your time and soon enough you’ll be on your way. If you fall, just make sure you get back up.

If you're looking for a sign to start, this is it. I believe in you. If anyone has any more questions, feel free to ask. Anon, I hope this helps <3

Other writers feel free to add your own advice!

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, this is a little goofy thing featuring Arkham Knight Eddie and a female!o/c  that was inspired by an actual dream I had recently. Like, literally, the dream mentioned in this story is almost exactly the same.

It’s pretty short and I’m....not entirely sure it’s good but I dunno...I wanted to get that dream out of my head somehow and turn it into something positive so...here is this silly drabble.

Contains some smut and suggestive comments, but nothing overly explicit. 

Words: 2104 Title: i'm best when I'm In love Rating: M (going with the AO3 smutty content labels here)

“My Dear, you’re struggling,” Edward said as he moved one of his pawns. 

“Well, I have yet to beat you, Eddie,” Sara responded in a tense voice, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“True, but lately, you’ve been performing much better than this. Right now, your tactics are sloppy, like when I first started teaching you.”

“Chess takes time to learn, right?”

“Correct, and you have the benefit of learning from an astounding genius like myself. However, your focus is not on the game, so no matter what I say, you’re still going to lose much sooner than you should.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Edward’s gaze moved from the chess board to Sara’s agitated expression, noting the almost pained look in her eyes as she tried so very hard to concentrate on the game. It was easy to see that she was becoming more panicked by the second, and whatever skills she had acquired from his teachings had gone out the window for the time being.

“No, but the way you’re tap, tap, tapping that Knight piece on the table indicates there’s a much more serious problem here,” Edward said.

Sara hadn’t even realized she was doing it, and quickly stopped once she looked down at her right hand. The Knight piece was given a much-needed break as she set it on the table and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Sara said, running a hand through her hair. 

As much as Edward wanted for Sara to look at him, he knew how nerve-wracking it could be for her to make direct eye contact when she was upset. It did sadden him, though, that she had barely glanced at him the whole time they’d been together that day, and part of him wondered if there was something he did to make her uncomfortable -- or something he didn’t do. Both of them had a lot of pent up emotions, and while they were quick to unleash them when under stress, they were also terrible at asking for help or simply being vulnerable in general. So, he had to approach this cautiously. 

“Where is your mind at, Dearest Devinette?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Sara let out a little huff which was as close to a chuckle as she could muster upon hearing one of his (rather adorable) nicknames for her.

“I’ve just got something on my mind,” she replied, resting her head in her left hand as she leaned on the table.

“Obviously,” said Edward, rolling his eyes. “But what precisely is on your mind?”

Sara chewed on her lower lip as she pondered how to respond. It was stupid, she told herself, what she was thinking, what she had been thinking, and she was almost embarrassed to admit it out loud -- let alone to herself. Edward was not going to take “no” for an answer, though, nor would he believe any lie she could toss into his lap. She was a terrible liar to begin with, and he was far too perceptive. 

“It’s about, um….” Sara began, her throat starting to clamp up as her heart raced in her chest. “It’s, uh, about...a…”

The need to “hide” was too great at that moment, and Sara abruptly stood and turned her back to Edward, bringing her index finger to her mouth to bite at the second knuckle.

“It’s about a dream I had recently,” Sara confessed, her mouth dry and her heart beating so loudly in her ears she thought Edward might hear it.

“Ok?” Edward said slowly, waiting for her to continue despite feeling a little impatient.

As much as Edward wanted to help his love, there was little he could do without knowing the details of what troubled her so. Being helpless like this -- being helpless at all -- always drove him crazy. He needed to solve this, but he also needed answers first.

“Well, in the dream, we were working together,” Sara continued. “At a job. At a company. We were programmers.”

“It sounds like a very tame dream so far,” Edward commented.

“We were on a project together, and we liked each other. You liked me. I felt so happy to be noticed by a guy, and I thought I had a chance with you. But then...things changed. A new programmer started working there, a pretty blonde woman who was really smart. Like, a natural. You suddenly stopped paying attention to me, choosing to spend time with her. You both looked very happy, had lots to talk about, and whenever I tried to get your attention, you would...brush me off. You even...removed yourself from the project we were working on so you could work with this woman on a different one. I was invisible to you after that, and very alone.”

Edward felt a mixture of frustration, sympathy, confusion, and hurt over Sara’s dream. It was pure nonsense, no doubt, in every possible way, but clearly, it had an effect on her. Insecurities could twist your thoughts and emotions in painful ways, ways that didn’t even make sense. But they tugged at you until you gave into them and believed what they believed. 

He could relate to that, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Edward got up from the table and approached Sara, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her against him.

“Oh, my silly little riddle,” he said with a smile, trying to brighten her spirits in some way. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

“But...would you ever…?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Leave me for someone smarter, prettier…”

“What? No! Don’t be foolish!”

Edward made Sara turn to face him, his heart breaking upon seeing her tear-streaked face.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Edward said, cupping her face in his hands so she’d look at him. “You are the only one I want to be with. That dream was absolute nonsense, My Dear. I cannot even fathom for a second the mere idea of choosing someone else over you…” He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, smiling sweetly. “...my favorite distraction, my Darling Devinette, my Ravishing Riddle...”

Sara snorted, a grin spreading across her face.

“My Endearing Enigma,” Edward added, relieved to see her giggling.

“The nicknames are killing me,” Sara said, wiping her face. “You’re goofy.”

“”Goofy? Goofy, you say?” 

“Yes, and a total fucking nerd!”

“Oh, is that how it is then? Hmm?”

Edward scooped Sara up into his arms, humming contentedly.

“Well, this ‘Goofy Nerd’ is going to whisk you off to bed and physically  -- very physically -- demonstrate to you exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, my…” Sara said with a chuckle.

“I am going to make it so that you won’t be capable of coherent thoughts or speech,” Edward said with a smirk as he carried her to their bedroom. “You’ll be so overwhelmed with pleasure that the only thing you’ll be able to do is feel. No more negative, idiotic thoughts!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said, biting her lip.

---

“Oh, God, Eddie, there, please!”

“You’re so perfect, My Darling, so perfect…I can’t get enough...Oh, God!”

“What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no...not now!”

Sara watched Edward sit up, one hand covering the lower half of his face. While she couldn’t see anything yet, she knew what was happening.

“Oh, Eddie,” she said, quickly grabbing tissues for him. 

Edward took them and applied them to his bleeding nose, looking completely humiliated. Sara reached out to him, brushing hair from his face, but he jerked away, too embarrassed to even look at her. The poor man suffered from chronic nosebleeds, probably because his nose had been broken so many times (Thanks, Batman), and sometimes he got them during the most inconvenient moments.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Sara said.

She followed Edward into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels to hand to him for his nose. He threw the bloody tissues into the waste bin with a grunt, still unable to look her in the eye.

“I’ll run a bath,” Sara said as she went to turn on the tub faucet.

Edward’s nosebleed did slow while the tub filled up, but he still hated himself. Why did he have to have one while he was in the middle of…? With her? He was supposed to be making her feel good, not...bleeding on her. It was disgusting -- he felt disgusting. What kind of lover was he? 

Sara tapped Edward’s shoulder, telling him the bath was ready. He mumbled something, tossing the blood-soaked paper towels into the waste bin before turning to her. Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was worried? Why did she care so much? Why wasn’t she angry with him for ruining ‘the mood?’ Or grossed out? There was drying blood on her shoulder still, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. 

Edward and Sara got into the tub with her sitting behind him. Taking a rag, she soaked it in the bathwater then handed it to him so he could clean his nose, lips, and chin of blood, and thankfully, the nosebleed had stopped by then. When she started to shampoo his hair, her elegant fingers lightly scratching his scalp as she hummed some random tune, he remembered the dream she had told him about. Once his hair was rinsed, he turned to face her, his expression full of guilt and sorrow. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Sara asked.

“This is just one of the many reasons why I could never want someone else,” Edward said quietly. “You’re so kind to me, so gentle...and I didn’t do anything to deserve it -- to deserve you. No one has ever treated me the way you do, no one has ever looked at me the way you do, no one has ever spoken to me the way you do.... I never realized how...how alone I was until I met you. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you…”

Even my own life, he thought. 

“So, please, never doubt how much you mean to me,” Edward said.

Sara was blushing, trying to come up with a response but too flustered to speak properly. 

“I...I don’t know ….I don’t know...what to say,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “I’ve….never heard someone say something like that before…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward assured her with a small, warm smile. “Just be with me.”

“Of course.”

Edward turned around so he could rest against her, his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. While he was planning to finish what he started once they were out of the tub and back into bed, in that moment, he felt absolutely perfect where he was. All his life, he’d never had affectionate physical contact. Sure, there was the awkward hug here and there, or obligatory embrace when he had a lover (and there were very, very, very few of those), but nothing that was genuine or even remotely pleasant.

But in moments like this one with his beloved, he felt like he could be as vulnerable as he needed because she’d never hurt or humiliate him. When she hugged him, it was always warm and welcoming. Whenever she held his hand, she loved to lace their fingers together, almost like she was “trapping” him but in the most romantic way possible. Whenever she kissed him, he felt absolutely smitten because her kisses were so comforting or even playful.

“I love you, My Dearest Horny Geek,” Sara whispered, barely holding back a cute chuckle.

Edward rolled his eyes but smirked at her outrageously endearing nickname for him. 

“And I love you, My Dearest Horny Enigma,” he replied, and they both couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Two horny peas in a pod,” she said as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. “And, you know, if you’re still up for it, you could put your ‘pea’ back in my ‘pod’ once we’re done with this bath.”

Edward slowly turned his head to look up at Sara, his cheeks a bright pink and his gaze full of bewilderment. When she snorted in amusement, he soon found himself joining her in a fit of childish giggles. And here she had been worried he would fall out of love with her. No one could make him laugh or grin like he did. No one could make him feel loved and needed like she did.

Only her. 

What a lucky little shit he was….

----

And there we have it! Hopefully it’s not too crappy. I’m not totally satisfied with it but don’t feel like making it a longer story (at least, not right now). Let me know what you think and damn, I have really depressing dreams sometimes.

[blossom-hwa]

hello!! first off i love u and ur writing<3

I just had a couple questions about how you started off writing on tumblr, if you would be happy to lend some advice!

I really enjoy writing random one shots and drabbles, I’ve toyed with the idea of developing some full-length fics; but I just have no idea how to go about posting them online. I was wondering, how did you start getting your works out there? do you have any tips for someone just starting out? that kinda thing

but I totally understand if you don’t have the time or just don’t wanna be bothered answering haha. hope you’re having a good day regardless!!

hi anon! first of all I want to apologize for taking a bit to answer this, I wanted to make sure I had enough time to sit down and give you a well thought out reply :) before I start though, I do want to say that I am by no means an expert at writing or at navigating Tumblr, and all of this advice only comes from my experience and that of some of my mutuals! that being said, here are my thoughts:

there is no right or wrong way to start out here on Tumblr (or on any other writing platform, for that matter). my first foray into fan fiction was on wattpad, and it was this horrible, very much self-insert oc fanfic I was writing with some of my friends at the time. I stayed on wattpad for a bit, posted a little on quotev, and eventually turned to asianfanfics for a while before finally settling on Tumblr, where I've been writing for about four years now. the only reason I decided to start posting here was because I had a fic that I wanted to gain more traction since I really liked it - nothing special, really. so my tip for starting out is to just... post your stuff. make a sideblog or start transitioning your main, create a masterlist, and post your first fic! if you're looking for formatting tips for things before the actual writing (pairing, genre, etc.) just look at how other authors do it and pick and choose what you want - that's pretty trivial. for tagging, I'd also recommend looking at how other authors tag. I do not have a foolproof way for getting people to read your fics through tags. I still have no idea which tags get more usage or which ones are best for exposure. it's really just trial and error, honestly, but when it comes to actually posting, this is the advice I can give.

now for some unsolicited thoughts on user/reader interaction.

writing on Tumblr can be extremely discouraging a lot of the time. if readers interact at all, the majority of the time it's in the form of a like and nothing else. I live for reblogs with tags and replies - I'm sure many of my mutuals would agree - but it's true that they're sparse. try not to let that get you down. it's taken a while, but I think I'm more or less at the point that I'm posting more for myself than solely for my followers. I post my work because I like it and it's the kind of stuff that I want to see - the entire reason I began writing was because I couldn't find the types of stories that I wanted to read. as long as I like what I've written and think it's good enough to post, then that's enough for me. while reader appreciation is always appreciated and I do find myself in slumps sometimes when interaction is at a low, I think I can say now that reader validation matters less to me than when I first began writing.

it isn't easy to get to this point, I'll be honest. it's taken me years. but have confidence in your own works, and - I cannot stress this enough - write what you want to write. try not to write things just for notes. of course, this isn't to say that if what you're writing is getting notes, you need to stop - it's just that if you feel like you're burning yourself out with writing and you don't enjoy it anymore, take a break. reevaluate. writing solely for reader validation isn't going to work out in the long term, a lesson I learned the hard way - it's why I only really open requests every once in a while. that being said, if you do want to open requests, go for it! just set your boundaries, make sure your readers know what you're comfortable with writing, and always know that you are in control of your work and your blog. your readership should not be the sole determining factor of how you run your blog!

having said all that, I hope I haven't scared you away from posting :( it's a wonderful thing that you enjoy writing, and you by all means should share it with the world if that's what you want!! I hope you find these tips somewhat helpful at the very least, and if you ever have more questions, feel free to send another ask or pop into my dms - I'm sure I've forgotten something or the other here, anyway. really, though, just go for it!! I'm cheering for you, anon :) best of luck with your writing <3 and have a good day yourself!

[lunaticpuppetmaster]

  My contribute for Konoha Simps server collab! 

Trying to do both drabble and an art was a poor decidion as i am a lil bit late. 

Special Thanks to @pfreadsandwrites who beta-readed this drabble!

Title: Lost and Found.

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x OC (Tsubasa Yuki)

Summary: Everyone knows that everything you lose will end up in your soulmates possesions. Some people go crazy trying to find their destined one with practically no information. Tsubasa was never interested in finding hers and there is a chance she would never be able to.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

Word count: 6907

   When the first symptoms of the family curse appeared, Tsubasa already knew she was doomed. The sickness was rare and there wasn’t much information about it in the Yuki clan library even before the genocide, while after it…  well, no information survived. To be honest she did not have much hope at the beginning when her ice-natured chakra just only started to act like a parasite, eating her body and breaking thin bones.

But her sensei had. Mei had always been protective of her pupils, acting like a big sister even after the trio passed the chunin exam. So, when the worst happened, she used all her resources in order to save one of them. Unfortunately, even Kirigakure medics famous for their body knowledge were unsuccessful. The only hope was the best medic alive, Tsunade-hime herself.

Tsubasa did not know how she convinced Tsunade to help or what she promised to her (probably rare Kiri herbs), but the sannin agreed to work on her case. She didn’t promise a cure. To the girl’s pleasure, unlike her sensei, the 5th hokage was rational and she stated right from the start that the chances of recovery were very low and more likely she would just extend the Yuki girl’s agony. It was hurtful, but honest. Tsubasa always respected honesty… and her sensei. She had no other choice, but to promise Mei that she will fight till the end even though she did not want to.

“Maybe you will find your soulmate there,”- said Mei before her departure.

Mei was one of those people who always wanted to find their soulmate, however that was not the reason why she said it. She appreciated different manifestations of love: between friends, parental, sisterly and etc. She also knew that Tsubasa was a pessimist and even the love of people who were close to her was not enough to restore her will to live. At least if she were deeply in love with her soulmate, Mei hoped that Tsubasa could finally find the strength to fight.

Soulmates were always a bone of contention between different social groups: commoners, nobility and shinobi. Especially the last one. Missions and loyalty towards the village must be a number one priority for a ninja. But with soulmates everything became much harder.

Still even the biggest soulmate deniers tried their best to ‘lose things’. Even though little was known about soulmates nature, over the years people were able to learn a couple of useful things:

1 - Every item you lose will end up in your soulmate’s possessions.

2 - You cannot send a letter or any kind of writing this way.

3 - You cannot just throw away a random thing in the air or leave it intentionally on a park bench. So, you must really lose the thing to make it reach your soulmate.

The world was never peaceful. Neither for commoners nor shinobi, so desire to help for so called “true one” was understandable. People tried to tie various useful items with slim strings to their clothes like meds and water. When it came to shinobi they usually tied small scrolls to their bags or jackets hoping that during fights the thread would be cut or ripped and the item lost. Such scrolls were usually filled with food, kunais or ninja pills. Supplies that suddenly appeared managed to save some shinobi on the verge of death more than once. So even soulmate deniers had an opinion that it was practical to help the soulmate and very rude to ignore it. Help for help, life for life, nothing more. Tsubasa was one such person.

Of course, every skilled shinobi could tell from which village the lost item appeared.

Yuki’s soulmate for example was from Konoha. Her teammate Hiroto recognized a specific plant in a found ninja pill. So, she had some chances to run into him during her stay.

But Tsubasa did not want a soulmate. She did not need some stranger. She wanted to stay in Kiri and spend her last days with people she loved with all her heart and soul. Hadn’t she suffered enough? It didn’t look like it.

This was how she ended up in Konoha; or rather in a spare room of Yamanaka-hime’s house. Although Tsunade made efforts, in Yuki’s opinion, she clearly did not have an intention to heal her, but to collect information about how the disease proceeds under various factors, in order to save other unfortunate ones… Tsubasa could tell it from her students. Tsunade put her under the care of somewhat inexperienced newbies, ones who could crawl into her head and feel the patient’s condition themselves. Tsubasa did not blame her for that. She would be happy if her death could help someone. The girl rather felt sorry for distracting Ino from her more important patients. The hime herself was cheerful and sunny person, but in moments that required professionalism she could turn cold and focused with the flick of a finger. “She would be a perfect clan leader one day,” Tsubasa thought.

To be honest Yamanaka’s jutsu was useful for more than just therapy. When they first met, Yuki just simply let Ino read her mind and see her past. It was much faster and easier, plus all the secret information she knew as an ANBU was sealed. In order to get it, they would have had to use much stronger and more traumatic jutsu (and of course torture). Moreover, she was going to die soon, so did it really matter how many people knew her story?

Though when Tsubasa saw the girl’s blank face after reading her mind, she felt guilty. The blonde stayed silent for a few seconds before giving her a hug. She did not need words to say that she will do her best.

    Ino was easy to befriend. She also was good at distracting from negative thoughts. Between her regular Tsunade checkups and preparations for missions (It was important to monitor the development of the disease in the field, and all missions would be related to information gathering about the Yuki clan) they were chatting, watching movies and sometimes working in the flower shop. Thanks to Tsubasa’s honey-coloured hair most people mistook her as a distant relative of Yamanaka, so no one asked questions.

Once they ended up talking about soulmates. It started when Ino found some spilled ink on her carpet one day. Hime did not know much about her soulmate except he was really… an artistic type. Through the years she collected various brushes, pencils, erasers and doodles. Once she even found a whole sketchbook (unfortunately half torn)! But there was one thing that made her upset. He never “lost” anything to help her like the majority did.

“Maybe he is from a strict ninja family or a specific ANBU team”, she said with a sad smile.

If Ino’s soulmate was artistic, Tsubasa’s was… quite “special”. Because only a “special” person would end up losing a 6-kilo bag of dog food. Even now, after seven years Tsubasa sometimes wondered ‘how?’.. It was not a pen or a trinket which could be easily left on an academy desk, but a giant bag of dog food! No, he was a good soulmate who was “losing” supplies for her (that once saved her teammate’s life) unlike Ino’s, but still… Even when the blonde heard about it, she could not believe it and then started to laugh hysterically. After such silly small talks Tsubasa felt like she wasn’t fully alone in this foreign village. It almost felt like she had found a friend.

Unlike the other forced teammate.

Every village had a system of having at least 3 people in a team. Moreover, Tsubasa was suffering from her disease and Ino concentrated on helping her. They needed another member.

Tsubasa did not like him from the start. He was loud, narcissistic, clingy and insolent. The kunoichi was easily fed up with his behaviour. She spat out what exactly she thought of him to his face before going back to the Yamanaka estate. Only when she was alone in her room, she understood all her stupidity. She shouldn’t have acted so idiotic and lose her cool. It was essential for a ninja. She also understood why he was chosen among all of the shinobi. As a member of the Inuzuka clan he had a ninken who was already big enough to carry a man. It would be useful in case she became unconscious due to the illness. But she could not help it. A lot of bad things were going on in her life. She felt useless and helpless since she was banned from using her ice chakra. Mei also banned her from using anything that would hide her emotions. She thought that Tsubasa finally needed to learn how to speak and deal with new people. Babysitting was not helpful, so she wanted to try something more radical. Tsubasa understood, but understanding wasn’t enough to cope with the stress. Now she was sitting in the corner of her room shivering. Usually, she would take her father’s mask – the only thing left after his death- and put the cold material close to her forehead thinking what he would say or do. She couldn’t do it any longer. Some of her belongings and a mask were lost during a powerful chakra release at the beginning of the disease.

A few minutes passed before she started to feel better. A sudden knock on the door took her out of thoughts. Tsubasa went to open it thinking it would be Ino. Unfortunately, it was him. The cause for today’s bad mood and their third teammate – Kiba Inuzuka himself. She sighed and looked at him through the door, hiding most of her body behind it. The young man in front of her hesitated and looked a little bit strange or uncertain.

”Listen, I came here to apologise.“

Tsubasa raised her brow. Surely she should have been the one to apologise?. Plus, the boy looked like someone who would rather make a bunch of excuses and snap back than accept he was wrong.

“Well, I shouldn’t have invaded your personal space in the first place.” He scratched the back of his head and looked away. Judging by his behavior, the girl started to understand what actually made his behavior change.“And …uhm, Ino told me about your case so…”

“Showed you,” said Yuki her guess as a statement.

”She d-did not show me much!”

”That’s okay. I don’t mind and Ino knows that.”

“Anyway, I want to start on a clean slate. Here, take it. It’s a half mask and a bottle of blue paint so you can customize it with your clan symbol.”

”Actually…”

“I know that you are not allowed to use anything to hide your emotions, but it is a half mask and I made the holes for eyes bigger so your emotions will be perfectly visible. This is not technically breaking the rule and you will definitely feel better due to your um… well, habit. Just enjoy it, okay? I have to go now, bye!

“W-wait! I cannot…”

But the boy already left, forcing the girl to accept.

After that, though the relationship between the trio smoothed out, it was far from perfect. Tsubasa preferred to act more as a solo player despite her health condition, Kiba was still too loud and tried to act like the leader he never was and Ino … Ino tried not to go crazy in this whole mess called a team. However, overall, their missions were rather calm. Perhaps the three of them needed time to get used to each other before they could accept the others’ faults and learn to compromise. The tension completely disappeared at rest time, when tired teenagers passed time by talking to each other. Often they talked about soulmates. Someone was consulting with others about what would be more useful to seal in a tie-down scroll, the other one was looking through a travel bag for new supplies (or accidentally dropped useless things), another was thinking about loud who their soulmate might be. On one of such days, all of a sudden Tsubasa discovered earrings in a sealed scroll. They were simple and consisted of three deep blue feathers each. The girl looked at them in surprise, not knowing how to react. But, on the contrary, Ino reacted too happily.

“These are so cute! And they match your eye color! Quite a nice present for a soulmate that has never seen you.”

“This must have been a mistake.”

“It was in a scroll. How could this be a mistake? Looks like your soulmate really wishes to meet you and…”

“I don’t need a soulmate, Ino! Like, I don’t believe in perfect matches made by spiritual forces or some sort. I never wanted to have him in the first place! I have a dream to achieve, a family in Kiri. No way if I survive, I will leave it all behind because of some questionable romance! That’s ridiculous!”

Ino sighed and Kiba remained silent. The conversation came to an end. But not the attention from Tsubasa’s soulmate or their mission.

One of those days, when all sorts of cute things and sweets instead of standard ammunition began to show up in Tsubasa’s scrolls more and more, their group stumbled upon really strong opponents. The longer the battle continued the more obvious it became that they were not going to win. Unless Tsubasa broke the rule and used her clan’s abilities. Mei’s order, both as sensei and as Mizukage, always stood above many moral principles for Yuki, but now it was a completely different case. Neither Ino nor Kiba with the sweetest and bravest Akamaru should have been involved in this from the very beginning. They were not supposed to die or risk their lives because of some terminally ill girl from another village and a questionable contract between their Kages. They must live, survive and Tsubasa made up her mind. At first, she managed to eliminate a couple of ninjas and slightly injure the rest using the element of surprise. She was incredibly lucky, because the disoriented opponents were much easier to finish off for Kiba and Ino. Tsubasa by this moment had already lost her eyesight from the tension and saw the battlefield only as a set of white and light gray colors. She lost her breath and her strength to stand upright. But it was nothing compared to the pain that washed over her seconds later.

     The kunoichi screamed in pain as she felt blood filling her mouth and an ice crust covering her internal organs. She fell on the cold dusty ground, heart-rendering screams leaving her lips with the blood pulsing her temples, ice needles tearing the muscles of her arms and legs. It seemed like nothing existed except for the all-consuming pain. Through the wall of never-ending white noise, she heard the sounds of Ino’s commands and Akamaru’s frightened barking. This was the last thing she felt before passing out.

Tsubasa woke up with a heavy head and pain all over her body. She listened to her senses before opening her eyes… and it would have been better not to listen to them. Someone brazenly pressed her close to their body and sniffed into the ear. When she opened her eyes the girl immediately screamed. In general, it was a completely normal reaction when you find yourself half-dressed in the arms of an equally half-dressed man. Of course, given that she was half-asleep, her only response was a stream of unpleasant curses and swearing. At first Kiba, who was still sleepy, was happy that the girl woke up, but soon joined the exchange of curses until a joyful, but terribly tired Ino ran up to them, immediately trying to interrupt the catfight and change the topic. Kiba waved his hand resentfully and went off in an unknown direction. Ino stayed with Tsubasa alone.

“Sit down and drink this.”

“Okay, but can I ask you a question first? What the hell happened here?”

”Your disease went out of control. I could barely suppress it. This time it was… too strong. Not like before. When I was finally able to improve your condition, you were still unconscious, your temperature dropped to terribly low levels, and some ice crystals did not disappear. We didn’t risk taking you back to the village in such poor condition. At first, we tried to wrap you up warm, but that didn’t help. Your clothes were quickly soaked by the cold coming from you and it only aggravated your condition. Then we decided that we would warm you one by one with the heat of our bodies. Well, Akamaru too.

Tsubasa howled in embarrassment and Ino sighed.

“Don’t worry. I think Kiba understands what the situation looked like for you. Or he will understand. He is a hot-head, you know, and he needs some time to calm down. But he will.”

”Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I snapped at him twice for literally nothing, especially the last time when I should have said ‘thank you for trying to save my dumb ass’. I feel terrible.”

The blonde girl patted her dejected friend on the shoulder and then said, “ Drink the medicine or, I swear to God, you will regret that you woke up.

The group’s return journey took place in silence. Despite the fact that Tsubasa apologized to Kiba and he accepted the apology, the kunoichi was still tormented by her conscience. She needed to apologize to him properly. Stealing a glance at the still visible ice crystals on her hand, a thought flashed through her: “While I can still do it.”

Night is definitely a wonderful and mysterious time of the day. Too bad that not everyone can enjoy its beauty, but there are also some who would be glad to miss it. For example, some unfortunate souls from the Inuzuka clan. It just so happened that a heightened sense of smell was not the only animal trait some clan members shared. Heightened hearing, too. In battle it was somewhat useful while in everyday life - irritating. During the day, in a mixture of noises, it did not cause much discomfort, but at night, when all the sounds disappeared, a can kicked by a drunk felt like a hit in the head. It is not surprising that such “lucky” clan members often suffered from insomnia and generally lived in the rhythm of night owls, which was very difficult for the shinobi world, where everyone was entirely early birds.

So was Kiba. However, tonight it felt different. His day was active and the sounds on the street did not disturb him, still he could not sleep. It seemed that the whole atmosphere of the house became more and more oppressive with every second spent inside, and the inner desire to walk through the village at night became stronger with every minute. He just wanted to go outside and run. He did not know where, but somewhere, where it was important for him to be now. In the end, when he accepted the fact that he obviously would not sleep today, the young man called his faithful dog and quietly left the house. The night was calm and fresh from the recent rain. Perhaps even too much, but it did not bother Kiba. He gladly wandered through old village streets, breathing in deeply the cold night air until he found himself near the playground. Or better to say, found someone.

Tsubasa sat on the swing all hunched up, almost motionless like a statue, and although this time her face wasn’t hidden by a mask, but her honey hair, Kiba knew that the girl was clearly not radiating joy.

“May I sit?,” he asked. Tsubasa didn’t even flinch.

“Yes.”

Kiba looked at the girl. When they first met, she was strong, cold and impenetrable. A true warrior. But now things were different. As a shinobi, he was not afraid to die on the battlefield, surrounded by dead and, possibly, even rotting bodies. But seeing a person fade like this, when they were unable to do anything about their state, when they burned out like a candle, turning with every second into a pale copy of their former self is what really scared him. At first, he didn’t care much what would happen to Yuki, but now, when her life glimmered on a candle stub, saving her was important. Either she will survive, and he will get rid of animal all-consuming fear, or her pale face, disfigured by illness, in the tongues of the funeral flame will haunt him till the end of his days.

Akamaru rested his head on Tsubasa’s lap. Still lost in her heavy thoughts, Yuki let her hands go of the swing chain and started to mechanically stroke and scratch the ninken behind the ears.

”Hey Tsu, I know that you are that type of shinobi who tries to follow the code perfectly. But we are not made of steel. You are not made of steel. You are feeling bad and tired. It’s unlikely that I will hear something that Ino did not show me or did not hear from you. Sharing pain as a shinobi is hard, but it’s even harder to keep your cool when you are on the verge of being broken by your own emotions. Even though I talk too much, anything you tell me tonight will stay here, I promise. So, tell me what’s eating you.

”You’re right. I am tired. I am weak, although I’ve tried to prove myself otherwise for my whole goddamn life. Even when I felt bad and thought that everything was lost, I clung to a few good things that I had. What does not kill makes us stronger, and the world, even drowning in war and blood, is still too beautiful to give up, especially the little things that everyone forgets. That’s what my father taught me. My path has never been covered with rose petals. Well.., for most people, actually. Still, I didn’t stop fighting for the people I love. Only when the clan curse showed itself… I was really scared. I felt completely helpless. And after the recent events… Fuck all my experience, knowledge and even more ranks. I am useless. I… I must accept the truth. I will die soon Kiba and I do not want to die here.”

Her previously smooth and still voice started to crack. Her shoulders shivered slightly.

“You, Ino and your friends are wonderful people and in general I like Konoha, but it will never be my home, and you will never replace my family. I hate to break promises, but I really don’t want to keep the one I gave to sensei and friends. I just want to give up and go back to Kiri. I miss them so much and want to see them one last time. Besides there is also one thing that bothers me…”

Mei was not that wrong when she said that Tsubasa might fall in love in Konoha. She actually did, but not with the soulmate destined by the stars. She fell in love with an eccentric, slightly arrogant and silly boy who may have not really known her, but still tried to help. Simply because he did not lose faith in her or their team, because he acted friendly with her and could cheer her up even in her darkest moments. For the fact that he could knock on the window at one in the morning and invite her into the forest to look at the fireflies. Just like that. It wasn’t like love at first sight, or a long courtship. With each passing day her feelings grew stronger washing over her like waves. Unfortunately, there were few “BUTs” that Tsubasa could not ignore:

She was from another village and even though there were many bad things in the hidden Mist, she was not going to betray it or move anywhere. She promised herself to help Sensei make the village a better place, and she was not going to give up on her dream either. Kiba was also too loyal to his family and friends. He would never leave them for some Kirigakure girl.

Moreover, Tsubasa felt guilty about her soulmate. Yes, she never saw him, but that did not stop him from taking care of her and obviously dreaming about their meeting. It would be wrong just not to care about his feelings.

Most importantly, that applied to both Kiba and the unknown “true one” - she was dying. She was a weak sick girl who had a month left to live at best. Of course, she could confess her feelings to the boy next to her right now, feel loved and die with a drop of happiness… But was it fair for Kiba who would have to live with this burden until the end of his days? Definitely not. She couldn’t do that to him. That’s why she would rather stay silent, burn out from her feelings, because at least she would not let him suffer.

“I just don’t know what to do… I feel lost.”

She lifted her head, blue feathers of her earnings blowing in the wind. Her face was emotionless and her body calm, yet uncontrollable tears were streaming down her face.

The boy took her freezing hand and pulled her into a hug. Tsubasa bit her lip, burying her face in his shoulder and soaking his jacket with tears.

”You lost only because you gave up right away as soon as you found out about your diagnosis! Stop thinking about the fucking disease! Focus on something else! Not on the loved ones, since it causes you so much pain. Focus on your dreams! On your soulmate!”

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of soulmates?”

“Why are you so disgusted with the idea itself?”

She let his hand go and exhaled. There was no trace of her emotional outburst except for her bloodshot eyes. Tsubasa grabbed the swing chains, thinking for a second.

“I do not believe in fairy tales about gods, who loved each other and were separated, that blessed all mortal couples with a secret connection, in revenge to the rest of the pantheon. Why did everyone suddenly start to think that it was a love connection? What if that bond means a strong friendship? And how can finding lost things help my soulmate find me or specifically, my body? The only variant I see is where you tattoo the coordinates on your hand and lose it in battle. An ‘excellent’ plan! Moreover, where are the guarantees that soulmate couples will be happy? Give me one example.”

”Ino’s parents are soulmates.”

Both of them suddenly turned silent.

”As far as I know, Mrs. Yamanaka did not even know our language when she arrived here. She was from another country, with completely different customs, still she risked going into the unknown. And I don’t know any stronger couple.”

“The way you talk about it… Your parents aren’t soulmates either, are they?”

He nodded.

”Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. In fact, my father left when I was one year old, so she and my sister raised me. But… My mother is a very difficult person. As far as I can remember, it was always important for her to be the first and she never cared about the feelings of others. This is good for a warrior, but not for a family member. She could easily say things that will hurt you, including the ones she said on purpose, as a joke in order to please her ego. When you tried to talk to her about this and ask her to tone it down a little, she pretended to listen at first, but soon forgot about it. As for my father, he was not from our clan, not even from our village. He was a stranger and ended up being at the very bottom of the clan’s hierarchy. My sister said that he could stand a lot of things, but not the betrayal and disregard towards him from his once loved one. Of course, this was not the only reason he left. After that, looking at how Ino’s parents perfectly understand each other and always try to find a compromise, on how strong their union is… I want the same kind of family. Yes, I can act like my mother, be short tempered and impulsive. I think you noticed it when we first met. I admit I behaved horribly, but with people close to me, whom I don’t want to lose, I try to control myself and work on it.”

“That’s… amazing Kiba. And despite the fact that you mostly act like a jerk -” he snorted and a small smile formed on her lips- “I have to admit that after knowing you better, I have respect for you. You don’t try to please everyone. You give all of yourself and your warmth only to the ones that are close to you. Only to those who, in your opinion, deserve it, disregarding the rest. This is right. I share the same point of view. But since you really want to find your soulmate, have you ever thought that you might end up being the one to leave your home? Are you ready for such a sacrifice yourself?”

Kiba fell silent. At first it seemed that he was deep in thought, but in reality, everything was different. He was frightened and listened to the silence of the night trying to find out if someone was eavesdropping on them. For a moment, the girl even thought that he used ninjutsu to sniff out strangers and make sure that there were no one near them.

As white as a sheet, he took her hand and ‘wrote’ his answer on the inside of her palm with a finger:

“Yes”

She glanced at him. His actions spoke louder than words.

“Your father is dead, isn’t he?”

”Were you born in a clan or joined it later, you cannot leave it.”

”I understand. After all, in Kiri, a lot is happening inside our clans too.”

They both sat in uncomfortable silence.

“When you said that my parents are not soulmates, you also said “either”. So..?”

“You heard right. You know that before Terumi-sama, Kirigakure was overflowing with nepotism and bribery? Well, people were willing to do anything to move up the career ladder. My mother really wanted a higher position in ANBU, so she made my father fall in love with her and convinced him that she was his soulmate. As you understand, it was also important for my father to find ‘the true one’ but when he realized that he was fooled it was already too late. He comforted himself with the fact that he seemed to love my mother even without that spiritual bond, plus he loved me with all his heart and soul. But in fact, the love between my parents was one-sided… and because of the special treatment to the Yuki clan, my father was never at home. So… when you start looking for your destined one, please be careful, okay? I do not want the same fate for you or for anyone else.”

Okay, let’s change the topic” - he waved his hands in a playful defensive gesture “You mentioned that you have a dream. So, what kind of dream?”

“Well, you chose a bad one to distract me, because my dream is deeply connected with my family. You know about the genocide of the Yuki clan?”

“Mmm, sorry, to be honest, not really. Only that when the Uchiha clan was massacred, the elders whispered with each other that it could be the same case as it was with your clan, where it was the Kage’s order or some sort.”

“The Yuki clan was once considered to be one of the most powerful clans in the village of the Hidden Mist. And of course, quite dangerous, especially for the past Mizukage, or rather, for the one who controlled him. So, one night, the entire main branch was killed and the clan’s library burned down. The Yuki clan was officially made part of a lower caste. Some clan members managed to escape, while others were often sent on dangerous and suicidal missions. Now from the once large clan, only 30-40 people remain in Kiri, and most of them are elders and children. For comparison, grandfather Naoki had four children, the same age as my father, and only one daughter remained alive. As you know, my frightened and repressed clan avoided communicating with each other. In fact, in my childhood, it was as if the clan did not exist at all. Childhood in Kiri was not easy, but the other children at least had a clan, a large family that stood up for them. I wanted it too. I wanted to be a part of a clan and before my illness I dreamed of reviving the Yuki clan, regaining lost knowledge and finding all the relatives lost around the world, whom, as far as I heard, were not liked by both ninjas and civilians. But now after that illness… I must find every single Yuki alive to make sure that no one will be alone while fighting the family curse and that no one will go through the same pain as me, giving them a chance to be cured. And I will do it, no matter what… If I survive, of course…”

“It’s … A great dream to achieve-,” he scratched his head not knowing what to say- “And I am sure you will! Just don’t be so pessimistic! “

”I am realistic.”

“Pessimistic.”

“Realistic!”

“OK, OK!” he chuckled.“Looks like only realists like you, who talk about how bad and terrible everything will be, turn out to be chuunins.”

“What? Kiba, I don’t… urgh forget it! Arguing with you on any topic is simply useless when you are stubborn as a mule.”

“Said another mule!”

She laughed. Warmly and sincerely, for the first time this evening, and perhaps since they returned from that ill-fated mission.

”By the way, if your life in the hidden mist was so bad why do you hate the idea of moving to another place? Like here, to Konoha?”

“First of all, my life in Kiri is perfect now. Secondly, when people will learn that I am from the hidden mist they will hate me. The only thing that saves me now is that commoners think I am a distant relative of Ino.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You never heard why Kiri women are hated so much?”

“No.”

“Well let me tell you,” she grinned sinisterly. “One year, in our village, due to hunger, disease and war, there were practically no men left. Then the women decided to fill this gap by stealing men from other villages. But then they questioned themselves, how to transport healthy and adult shinobi without harming them? This is how the world-famous art of Kirigakure ANBU was born, thanks to which we can immobilize even the most powerful warrior,” she chuckled as a senbon she used in some missions appeared from nowhere, - “With the combination of many factors, but still. Well, those poor souls who ended up in Kiri … they essentially had no choice, but to marry ladies there if they wanted to live.”

“Are you joking?!”

“I’m not! In fact, my great-grandfather was kidnapped from the village hidden in the Stone. So, be careful Inuzuka Kiba! Who knows, maybe my illness is just a part of a secret mission and I’m actually here to pick up suitable candidates… And you might end up being one of them! You may turn out to be a good third husband for me, you know?”

He laughed.

“Oh really? Well, I would die to see how you would try to steal me with such an amazing guard as Akamaru!”

“Oh darling,” she grinned and hugged the huge white dog,” I would find a way to make that adorable boy my partner in crime! “

Akamaru happily barked in agreement and both teenagers burst into laughter, almost falling off the swing.

“By the way,” she said after a small pause, “I have to admit that fireflies are much more beautiful in Konoha. Thank you for letting me enjoy such beauty…”

He bit his lip and took her hand in his. The Ice crystals were still showing from her bandage returned them both to the dreadful reality.

“You will survive Tsu, I promise you, and you will see many more fireflies. Not only these.”

She looked at him with a faded, crooked smile. A smile that only gravely ill and very tired people have. Kiba returned her a look and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest, skipping a beat.

“Don’t make a promise that you can’t keep.”

”I’ll keep it! You will see. We are close to finding the ancient temple of the Yuki clan, and there definitely should be information on how to cure you. And after the next mission is completed, we will go to a grill bar! In the land of water there are only sea creatures and practically no normal beef. I cannot let you go back to Kiri without letting you know all the delights of good meat.”

She chuckled.

“If you say so.”

But there would be no grill bar or any next time. They found information about the temple location, but at the cost of everything else. The disease turned out to be unstoppable at this point. Luckily, they managed to reach it in time and save Tsubasa’s life.

Three months had passed since her miraculous recovery. Representatives of the Mist village appeared in Konoha the next day and took the girl with them, not allowing her even to say goodbye to her new friends. Still, their paths will cross in the future.

Upon returning to Kiri, Tsubasa began to communicate a lot with Ino through letters, which made the Mizukage almost ecstatic. She hoped that friendship with the clan princess would turn into a possible strong political tie in the future. One way or another, Mei was going to make her children, if not a future Mizukage, then those on whom the village could rely. Sometimes Mei was so happy about the benefits that Tsubasa had a feeling that her illness and departure to Konoha were part of Sensei’s plan to improve relationships with the village from the very beginning. However, she thought it was too weird and silly to be true.

She also sent letters to Kiba. Feelings for him that suddenly flared up in her heart were not planning to disappear, but she still had no intention of getting into his personal life. He wanted to find his soulmate, and she respected that wish. This was the least she could do for him. “Besides,” she thought while drinking peach tea in the evenings and remembering how he was trying to warm her drastically freezing body on their trip to the temple, “it is unlikely that we would have succeeded even if there would be no soulmate. We are too loyal and attached to our villages and clans. None of us would move to another village for the sake of other. Only a soulmate had such privilege.“

Therefore, she was happy to be his friend at least, send the boxes of tangerines and dried seafood snacks on special occasions, help with advice on everyday problems that all teenagers went through, regardless of which shinobi village they were born in, and just talk about all sorts of nonsense.

At six am, there was a loud knock on the door. Tsubasa was just getting ready for the training and she had no idea who would need to see her at such an early hour (her teammates were waiting for her at the training field, so it could not be them).

A familiar figure was standing outside of the door. Tired from the road, a little nervous, but smiling. Holding a medium-sized flat box under his arm.

“Kiba? What are you doing here, especially this early?!”

“There were reasons,” he said giving her a box, “may i come in?”

“Of course, you can, I’ll make you some tea and something to eat for you two.”

The girl moved away to the side, letting the boy and his dog into the apartment. Akamaru immediately stretched and laid himself on the carpet of the living room, while Kiba took a seat in the kitchen.

“So, what’s the reason you came here?”

“Open the box,” he said with a smile.

Tsubasa raised her eyebrows skeptically. She put the box on the table, thin fingers gripping the blue lid and pulling it up. Her father’s mask with its cold material was staring right into the girl from the inside. Frozen in complete shock, looking at the once-lost thing dear to her heart, she did not notice how Kiba approached her from behind.

“I just felt lost,” he said in a soft voice, while tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Their faces were only a few inches apart, “And desperately wanted to be found.”

[seriouslyhooked]

Can’t Say No (At Christmas)

CS one-shot set in the future. Hope is three and Emma and Killian are still very much in the throws of a happily ever after, but Killian wants to do something special for Emma for Christmas. With the help of their family and the town, he manages to fulfill a Christmas wish for his wife in exactly the kind of over-the-top fluffy and sweet way you’d expect from me. Includes holiday surprises, Christmas cheer, and a healthy dash of true love. Rated T. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! I really did not know if I was going to be able to get this drabble done, but I am so happy to say that I did and to share it with you all tonight. I know that this Christmas is going to be so different for so many of us, and that it has been a hard year of uncertainty and stress. My gift to our little fandom is this story, focused on Emma and Killian a few years after we got to see them in the show. It’s inspired by the spirit of Christmas, the cheesiness that only Hallmark movies can provide, and the song ‘No Problem’ by Dylan Schneider. I love the idea that Killian cannot deny Emma anything, and that at Christmas he has to make Emma’s wishes come true. I hate to spoil any more of this, but I will just say thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“I don’t know how the hell you pulled this off, mate, but I got to hand it to you, this is really something special.”

The words David uttered from the bottom of the ladder were high praise, despite the dig at Killian’s favorite endearment. Tonight though, Killian would let the jab slide. He simply didn’t have the time or energy to pretend to argue with Emma’s father. Instead he hustled down the rungs and back to solid ground beside his friend. He took stock of the room once more, running his hand through his hair and tracing each corner of the barn with his gaze. There was very little about the place that was recognizable. It had been sufficiently transformed, from an old, dusty tomb of farm equipment, to a space fit for the evening ahead.

“It pays to be a good guy in the end,” Killian joked. Playing up the early days of their knowing each other when Killian was anything but a hero. “Turns out I’ve helped quite a lot of people these past few years. They were eager to return the favor.”

“That’s true enough, but I think the fact that you did this all for Emma plays a big part too.”

There was no doubt about that, and the mere reminder of his wife brought a smile to his lips. She was going to be surprised by this, and there was nothing that he loved more than surprising his Swan. Killian could hardly wait for the look of excitement that would spread across her face, and the light that would appear in her jade colored eyes. Her cheeks would flush from realization, and her hands would move unbiddenly, as if she couldn’t quite contain the excitement or suspense. Emma was always the most beautiful of women, and a miracle to be sure, but when treated to a gift that was truly worthy of her, she was transcendent, his own personal star and tempting taste of heaven.

“Any word from Snow?” Killian asked, checking his watch and seeing they had made good time, despite the hecticness of the day. He had enough time to catch a shower and prepare himself, but he needed to be sure that Emma and Hope were sufficiently occupied in the meantime.

“Better – she sent a video while you were hanging the last of the garland.”

David offered his phone and Killian laughed at the sight. Snow and Emma had taken Neal and Hope out of town to a nearby ski resort that was hosting all sorts of winter activities for kids. In the video Emma, Hope, and Neal were all making snow angels, until Neal gave the signal and he and Hope pivoted to throwing snowballs at Emma. The only problem was Hope was far too little and bundled up in snow gear to be effective. She was having the time of her life though, and at the end of the video, Emma scooped their daughter up and nuzzled her close, bestowing a kiss on her curly brown hair, which had escaped its winter cap. Hope was a dazzling blend of him and Emma, but her goodness and ability to inspire love was totally her mother’s doing.

“Perfect. You good here for the time being?” David nodded, pivoting from his assistant role to commander in chief with the quickness of one-time prince. Content that his tasks were in good hands, Killian headed out, eager to put the next parts of his plan in place.

Things moved quickly from there. He showered and readied himself for the kind of night his Emma had imagined, ignoring the strangeness of his reflection as he did. He would never feel quite right in these damn tuxedos, but Emma’s wish was specific and it included the blasted suit. It also included a number of gifts for Emma and for Hope, which he pulled from the one place in the house Emma never ventured to – the garage. From the back of the storage space there, he grabbed a number of boxes that he’d stuffed away last week, and brought them all inside. After checking the contents were free from any water or dirt, he was convinced things were as they should be, and he left the gifts underneath the Christmas tree.

The only thing left to craft was the note for Emma that would set her surprise in motion. He hadn’t dared to write it out before, wanting to save it for this moment. It felt right to speak from the heart and to put in words exactly how he felt tonight. Still, it took time to get the letter exactly right, and he must admit he grew a bit sentimental when crafting it. A time or two he fell into recent and more distant memories of their lives together, feeling the warmth in his soul that could only ever come from the truest love. Luckily, he had enough of his wits about him and time was on his side. Soon he heard the sound of a car pulling up the drive just as he closed the envelope with Emma’s name and placed it on the tree, and with the stealth accrued in his past life, he slipped out the back door just before his girls came in.

“Mama, look! Santa came early,” he heard Hope say as he quietly rounded the side of the house. For a moment he was truly tempted to steal a look and watch this scene play out, but he reminded himself that there was still more to be done, and instead headed down the street to where a not so patiently waiting Snow was parked.

“Killian, thank God! I thought you’d never get here!” she exclaimed as he opened the door, but before he could reply, young Neal let his own thoughts be known.

“Mom, it’s been like sixty seconds. Literally. Look, I timed it on the stopwatch Henry gave me. 63 seconds.

“No, has it only been a minute? I’m so excited I can’t tell. It feels like forever. I was waiting for this all day. It was so hard not to spill the beans.”

“But you didn’t, right?” Killian checked, pivoting to Neal for the truth. When the boy gave him a thumbs up, he let out a breath. “Good. But it all might be for not if we don’t get a move on.”

“Oh, right. We’ve got to go. We’ve got a Christmas miracle to deliver.” Neal groaned at the words and Killian remained quiet prompting Snow to ask the question, “Sorry, too cheesy?”

“For tonight? No, strangely it’s just right.”

And with that, they pulled away from the curb, headed back towards the barn and the long-awaited surprise.

……………….

“Mama, look! Santa came! Santa came!”

At first Emma didn’t understand the words from her daughter. She was just trying to get her bearings after peeling the snow clothes off of Hope and discarding her own jacket on the hook by the door. Her boots were barely off and her scarf was still wound around her neck. She couldn’t imagine how Hope still had so much energy, but then she remembered – three year olds were like comic book characters, with a super power of endless energy.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow, honey,” Emma said, righting her clothes and letting go of a big breath, before walking towards the living room. “Two more sleeps until Santa.”

“But look, Mama, pwesents!”

Emma followed her daughters pointing finger across the way, and low and behold there were gifts under the tree that had not been there this morning. Her curiosity was peaked, but when she saw the white envelope secured in the branches of their evergreen tree, she had an inkling of what was happening.

“Killian,” she murmured walking forward, and running her fingertips across the delicate paper.

“Daddy?” Hope asked excitedly, and Emma nodded as she opened the envelope, only to fight off tears of love when she read the letter.

My Dearest Emma,

There are no gifts that I could ever give you that compare to all you’ve given me. I know and accept that, but this time of year is different. It’s a season predicated on love, light, and yes, even a bit of magic. So I had to try, for your sake and for mine.

Christmas is about showing the people you love what they mean to you. It’s about giving love and feeling love, and knowing that even in the dark of a winter night, there is hope and light ahead. It’s about reminding loved ones that you care, that you’re rooting for them, and that their dreams are your dreams too. You taught me that, you and Hope and Henry, and I swear to you that all I could ever want is to make you happy, and to grant the wishes you carry in your heart.

“Ooo, pwetty,” Hope said, dragging Emma’s eyes down to where her daughter had already begun opening the parcels below. Inside the white garment box was a gorgeous crimson colored dress, breathtaking in its elegant design. The satin and the beading were exquisite, and the color was to die for, and like something from a dream. Hope offered the box to her, knowing even at age three that it wasn’t the right size for her. “For you, Mama.”

“Thank you, princess,” Emma said, taking the box in hand, wanting to look at it in full, but knowing the letter was still more important.

You are everything to me, Emma. Everything and so much more. You and our children hold my whole universe in your hands. Tonight, I hope to take your hand in mine, and remind you that in life, all you really need is the perfect partner.

“He didn’t,” Emma whispered, looking down from the letter which had been signed with love by her pirate. Then she looked at the other presents Hope was opening. A beautiful pair of heels, a white fur muff, and a necklace that sparkled, along with all the same things for Hope that were more their daughter’s style and perfect for her size. The last gift was another envelope, with a card. On the top in cursive script it read ‘Selected Suitors for Emma Jones’ and the only name was Killian’s. “Oh my god, he did. It’s a dance. He planned a Christmas dance for me.”

“Dance?” Hope asked and Emma crouched down to help her daughter really open her own garment box, where a beautiful princess-style dress was waiting for her. As soon as she saw it Hope let out a sound of pure delight, clapping her hands together at a hastened clip. At that moment, the front door opened, and Emma looked, expecting to see Killian but instead seeing her son, dressed up in a tuxedo and looking downright dashing. It would have been a shock either way, but this year, when she’d been bracing herself for her son being away for the holiday, it felt like an even greater gift.

“Henry?” she asked, as Hope bolted for her brother. Instinctively, Henry scooped her up, accepting all her hugs and kisses before turning his eyes back to Emma.

“Surprise! Well, part of it anyway. But we’ve got to get a move on, or we’ll be late.”

“Where are we going?” Hope asked. Henry responded by whispering in her ear, low enough that Emma couldn’t hear. Whatever he said made Hope gasp. “Really? We’re going there?”

“Sure are. But we have to get ready. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ve got Hope. You do what you need to do.”

Emma was spurred into motion, grabbing the gifts marked for her and heading upstairs. In thirty minutes, she and Hope were both ready for whatever awaited them, and though Emma had her suspicions, she was in no way prepared when they arrived at the old McDonald farm. Pulling around back to the barn, there were dozens of people milling around. Everyone in town was here tonight, dressed up and partaking in merriment, but when they left the car and walked inside, Emma was truly stunned.

“It’s beautiful,” she said aloud, taking in the gorgeous decorations. The space was totally transformed, a perfect blend of rustic refinement. The colors were vivid and vibrant, the air was warm and filled with the scent of cinnamon and honey, and the joy here was palpable. There was a buzzing electricity that crackled in the air. This was what all those Christmas movies strove to recreate but could never quite capture, and Emma took it all in knowing that her husband had made this just for her.

Scanning the room for him, Emma was first greeted with the sight of her Mom and Dad and brother. They came forward immediately, hugging her and Hope and Henry and extending their thoughts.

“Oh, honey, you look spectacular!” her mother exclaimed with tears in her eyes, holding her hands and looking at her red dress. It was a truly wonderous design, that hugged every one of Emma’s curves just right while still feeling of the season. It was classic and timeless and more than a little sexy, but it was appropriate for the night, when everyone was dressed to the nines.

“So do you guys,” Emma said honestly, taking in her mom’s sapphire ball gown, and her Dad and brother’s tuxes.

“I’m a princess, Grandpa,” Hope said happily and Emma’s father immediately agreed as the band began to play a slower melody.

“There’s no denying that. Care to dance with me, Princess Hope?” He asked, bowing to her daughter. Hope giggled but took Emma’s hand instinctively, looking at her for permission and clarity.

“What about you, Mama?”

“Don’t worry, sprout,” Henry said nodding across the room and using his favorite nickname for his sister. “Dad’s got her taken care of.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Killian, as if this was a first date and not years into their marriage. She couldn’t help the butterflies swarming within her, and then, like magic the crowd of people parted, and there, across the room was her man. It should have come as no surprise how handsome he would look. Emma was well versed in how roguishly hot her pirate could be, but in a tux it was a whole other story. Maybe it was the rarity of seeing him like this, or maybe Killian was just one of those men who was born to wear a tux, but either way she was struck by him. Everything seemed to stop around her, and all she could sense was the man who completely owned her heart.

A few moments later they were together again. Emma hadn’t even realize she’d been walking towards him, and him to her, but when he took her hand she felt her blood hum in anticipation. She was caught in his eyes, sensing the mixture of love and desire that was so intoxicating, and waiting for him to speak, because words in this moment truly failed her.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he said to her, the gravel of his tone washing over her and sending a shiver down her spine in that delicious kind of way. “The fantasies I’d conjured in my mind’s eye could never do you justice.”

“So you were fantasizing about this, huh?” she asked, her voice thready as she turned, purposefully taunting him with a view of all her best angles. This time he let out a low growl that spiked her desire to tease him. God damn, there were people around! How could she be this hot and bothered? Oh right, she was married to a sinfully attractive and impossibly romantic man. This was par for the course.

“Aye, love, and I promise those musings will prove more than satisfactory when we get home.” His voice dipped low and she swallowed hard, trying to tamp down her own building need. Then something shifted in his eyes, and she knew before he said a word that something immensely thoughtful was about to be shared. “I hope it’s everything that you wanted, love. Those blasted ‘Hallmark towns’ have a lot more built-in Christmas cheer than Storybrooke, but all it took was a hint that this was what you wanted, and everyone came together.”

It dawned on her that the wish he was referring to was one that she’d made a few weekends ago when they were laying in bed watching TV. She usually skipped the Hallmark Christmas extravaganza, but this year she was feeling sentimental. Maybe it was the fact that Hope was finally hitting an age where she was starting to understand the season, or more likely it was the pregnancy hormones from their little one on the way. She was only twelve weeks along, and wasn’t even showing yet, but her self-coined pregnancy induced crazy brain was in full swing, and had been from the start. The only thing getting her through most days was Killian, and then he went and did something like this… it was too much for her, she couldn’t take it.

“I love you,” she confessed, blurting it out like it was some big secret instead of established fact. “Like a lot. A lot a lot.”

“A lot a lot,” Killian parroted with a grin, pulling her with him out to the dance floor before taking her in his arms. She melded into his muscled physique, trying not to swoon as the melody carried them away.

“You know I’m not as good at the whole poetic declarations thing as you are.”

“Few can be, love,” he joked. She raised her brow at him in quiet consternation, and he only laughed before turning her into a low dip on the dance floor and reminding her that he was in total control of himself out here. “But where words might fail you, action is your strong suit. You show me every day how much you love me, Emma. And every day I thank my lucky stars to have that love.”

He made a fair point. Emma was, after all, a woman of action, and so she decided to take some now. Though they were dancing, she stalled their moment to pull him in for a kiss, giving them both a taste of what was to come when the night drew to a close. The sparks between them ignited instantly, and without looking, Emma knew some of her magic was radiating from within. When they pulled apart she was almost dizzy from the delight, but Killian was even more effected. He had that boyish grin of his in full display, and that tiny hint of bashfulness that came when he’d done something really well. Only when she heard the oohing and aahing of the people around them did she realize their magic had created stars along the ceiling of the barn, making it appear that they were all dancing under an inky black sky bursting with constellations.

From a distance, Emma heard her daughter ask if it was ‘magic time’ now, but before she and Killian needed to step in, Regina told her ‘Not tonight, kid,’ and Henry whisked her off for her another dance. This gave Emma and Killian time, time to enjoy the fruits of all he’d done, and to revel in this moment for as long as they could.

“Merry Christmas, Killian. You’ve made it so perfect, I never want it to end.”

“What is it they say in those movies, love? Oh right – every day is Christmas when we’re together.”

And even though it was horribly corny, and she should have rolled her eyes at such a lame joke, Emma found that she couldn’t. She was simply too happy and grateful to feign otherwise. Instead she savored every moment of their Christmas dance, and the night they shared thereafter, knowing this would be one of the best days she’d ever had, and that somehow, some way, her pirate would find other means of making the future just as bright.

……………………

Girl I got a no problem Yeah, it's a bad habit, the way I gotta have it With or without you around All ya gotta do is call me, and tell me that you're lonely You're always stringing me out Yeah, they say the first step to quitting it Is admitting it, so here it is Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Girl, I should know better, yeah, I should know never To let you in just to leave If it's just two letters, then why can't I ever Find a way to piece 'em together Let's say the first step to quitting it Is admitting it, I'm admitting it, here it is Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Those smokey blue eyes staring back at me Yeah, you already know if you're asking me What the answer's always gonna be It's gonna be, yeah Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Those smokey blue eyes staring back at me Can't say no to you Yeah, you already know if you're asking me Girl, I got a no problem That the answer's always gonna be 'Cause I can't say no to you Girl, I got a no problem 'Cause I can't say no to you

Post-Note: So, what did you think? Hopefully you enjoyed this little dose of holiday cuteness and none of this is offensive in any way or to any story line. Most of you know I never watched the last season of the show, so I don’t know what they say happened to Henry and everybody. I only knew Emma and Killian did eventually have a baby girl named Hope. Anyway, I want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and healthy holiday season. I am grateful for you all, from the ride or die readers who comment on every post, to the people passing by who just wanted a little bit of Christmas cheer. You are such a force for good in my world, whoever you are, and I thank you for your light and kindness in these trying time. I wish you all the best this Christmas and in the New Year, and more than anything I wish you love! Sending my best vibes your way now and always, xE.

The Captain Swan Mixtape oneshot series:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195

[daisylincs]

Author Interview Tag

Tagged By: so, long story short... these tags happened right as I was getting super busy with end-of-the-year-craziness, and I completely didn't see them until I was re-scrolling through all my mentions on Tumblr recently. So the people who initially tagged me have probably forgotten they even did (🤣😬🤦‍♀️) but my my count, they would be: @loved-the-stars-too-fondly, @libbyweasley, @aleksandrachaev, and @everythingirl44. Thank you very much indeed, all of you!! This looks like an absolutely amazing challenge, late as I may be to it.

Name: Lily

Fandom(s): Agents of SHIELD (TV) and Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Where You Post: AO3, and the occasional drabble/prompt fill to Tumblr - which, upon consideration, I should probably collect on AO3 🤔

Most Popular Oneshot: for Spideychelle, and overall too, apparently it's my, my, just how much I missed you, my surprisingly angsty (but with a hopeful ending) ten-years-post-FFH fic for Day 4 of Spideychelle Week.

For AoS, it's time can break your heart, have you begging please which, to be entirely 100% honest with you, I completely forgot I wrote in the first place 🤣🙈 It's post-7x10 angst on... that 7x10 and very spoilery death, with some Dousy hurt/comfort. Apparently, Dousy hurt/comfort is the rage, so... that's cool, I suppose.

Most Popular Multichapter Fic: just a few weeks ago, I would have responded with something like, "multichap? Me? As if 😳😅" But now... well, I'm actually posting my first multi-chapter fic later today, so we'll see how that goes!!

Favourite Story You've Written So Far: oh, gosh, that's a really, really hard one!! I've really, really enjoyed almost everything I've written, so picking is going to be very tough cookies xD

For AoS, I think I'm going to go for take my hand, take my whole life too, which is one of the first few things I wrote, but still holds a very special place in my heart, because I felt that it was a fic I could really be proud of, you know? Plus, it made me feel ridiculously soft and shippy-happy throughout the writing process. Plus plus, it has an absolutely stunning banner created by the amazing @ughfitz, which still touches me a lot, because I'd never had such a beautiful banner made before and askjgddfshhdhh it's just perfect.

I'm also very partial to july second, the birthday fic I wrote for @doctorofaos - because Hunter's point of view, it turns out, is ridiculously fun to write, and I had an absolute ball. The whole arc - a surprise birthday party for Daisy, and some team bonding/family fluff - just really works for me, too.

Another one that has to go on this list is hold out your hand, 'cause friends will be friends, my DaisyMack Soulmates BroTP, because that one is my amazing wife @aleksandrachaev's favourite, and it melts my heart so much to hear how much she likes it. 💜

Then lastly, for Spideychelle, my favourite thing I've written is quintessential spideychelle, no contest - it's a Roommates AU and my birthday gift for @eowima, and all the bonding those two dorks do over Lucifer and fandom in general brings me endless delight.

My Aladdin AU, now when did you last let your heart decide, will also always hold a special place in my heart, because it's the first really long thing I wrote. I put a ton of effort into it, and, well, I still think it's kinda fab.

(also I'm so sorry for the relentless self-plug that turned into, oh my God, apparently I'm just that indecisive and love talking that much. I apologise once again)

Fic You Were Nervous To Post: Aubrey, high-five! Because one of the things I was definitely the most freaked out for was that is good, my first-ever Quakerider fic and birthday gift for @acerobbiereyes. The response to that turned out to be overwhelmingly positive, though, and I have even made promises to venture into Quakerider-land again 🥰

I was also a little stressed for we love you, we love you, and we hope you love we too, which was my first-ever polyship fic - Fitzskimmons and cute notes for the fluff bingo - and something I also dedicated to the amazing @bobbimorseisbisexual. Also the formatting for this thing was HELL, and computers and I do not get along, so I was in cold sweats that it wouldn't work and fail on me completely... but, no, it worked, and the wonderful response to it too, very much melted my heart 🥺💖

How You Choose Your Titles: song lyrics. Almost always song lyrics. And if it's not song lyrics, it's a quote of some kind - it just works for me, and I actually find it fun to go hunt for something that works. Maybe I'm weird, but I actually do love it xD

Do You Outline? absolutely, yes - in fact, a great many of the things in my WIPs folder are solely outlines, or even just the beginnings of outlines. I find that outlines are a really good way to save your ideas if you don't have time to write them out properly, so you can come back months later and be all, "what the hell I'm actually so clever." (or, y'know, occasionally, "what the hell can the earth come swallow me up." But let's go with the cleverness 🤣👌)

In Progress:

... I think it's better that we don't talk about my WIPs folder, which, as most people who know anything about me can tell you, is an utter mess, and more than a little insane. (If you don't believe me, check it out here - I bet you do now, right?)

Out of that monstrosity, I'm currently working on numbers 20, 64, 192 and 174, which would be my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, and fics for my three Secret Santas - Spideychelle, Fitzsimmons, and then one for the AoS Secret Santa whose pairing is, in delightfully SHIELD style, classified until the 24th of December.

Then in the very background, I'm also writing some Pipsy, Fitzsimmons and plat!Diper for the fluff bingo yes which I have still not finished I'm awful I know, and I'm going to make my lateness a liiiitle better by passing them of as gifts for my friends. I do love my friends very much, though, so that's more than fair I think 🥺💜

My Complete AO3: ta!

Do You Accept Prompts? yes, always! I have this plan in the back of my mind of gathering up all the prompt lists I've got saved to my drafts and doing like a masterpost/mass prompt request thing, but I'll leave that for a little later yet, because goodness knows I have enough to finish 🙈 In the meantime, though, if there's anything you'd really like to see me write, I'd be just thrilled to do it for you! It'll definitely take me a couple of months to actually get to it, but if you don't mind the wait, then yes, absolutely, I'm your girl! 💖

Upcoming Work That You're Most Excited About: oooooof, another tough one, but I'm very much looking forward to posting the first chapter of my Skimmons Hallmark Rom-Com, which I'm going to do later today!!

Then there's also my three Secret Santas - though I'm not particularly religious, the idea of a gift fic exchange brings me endless glee and I cannot wait to see what my giftees think! I also can't wait to get my own gifts, too, of course... ;) Oh, it's just going to be so much FUN!!

Tagging: well, everyone did this a couple of weeks months ago, so I'm not actually going to tag anyone - but if you see this and think it's cool, by all means go ahead and say I tagged you! 😍 Also, have a very big virtual hug, all of you, and thank you so much for reading through all my blathering!! 💜💖

[marshunter06]

You’re always so supportive of self indulgent writing, so I thought I would prompt you 14 for Trentney 💙

This is why you’re my favorite 💜 I’m well aware no one else really cares for this ship, but I love them and I love you for prompting me! I could go on and on about why Trentney owns my heart some days, but I’ll just post the drabble instead 💕

14. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

If someone told Courtney she would end up falling for her best friend, she would’ve laughed at them, bold of them to assume she even had a friend to begin with. Sure she was somewhat popular in school, her reputation precedes her, an overachiever who would do anything to win. That made her a lot of enemies, and just as many fake acquaintances who needed a passing grade. She pretty much gave up on having real friends that she could rely on until Total Drama. She found that even though it seemed as if these teens would clash given their different personalities and upbringings, their shared bond from the trauma they suffered at the hands of a sadistic television host was more than enough to call each other friends. Sure she was upset she never won any money and basically suffered through tortures no human being should ever go through, but at least it gave her a chance to connect with people her age. For the first time, she felt as if she had a family, and she even ended up with a boyfriend. Sadly all good things come to an end.

After the cheating fiasco that she would rather not think about ever, and another failed season of redemption, she relapsed into her most toxic self. She pushed everyone out even sweet Bridgette who’s always been on her side, she still regrets doing that. She probably would’ve lived a miserable life if she continued the path of self loathing and working too hard, but luckily she ended up bumping into Trent. She was of course being difficult at first, not wanting anything to do with anyone associated with the reality show, but then she realized he was the only one who could understand how she felt. They were both wronged by the same people and without a chance for closure.

Now three years into their friendship and one year of being roommates, Courtney couldn’t be more grateful to have him in her life. Together they mend some bridges that seemed burned, but were actually still standing. They made their peace with their exes and now everyone on the cast was back to being one big happy dysfunctional family. There’s still some awkward moments, but overall it was nice having friends again. She owes it all to Trent, without him, she would never have been able to find her way back to happiness. Which is why she absolutely cannot tell him that she’s developed a crush on him, it would ruin everything she’s worked so hard to get to. It’s better this way, she would rather keep him as her best friend than lose him just because she couldn’t contain her emotions. So what if she swoons whenever his green eyes are on her? Or the fact that he remembers all her likes and dislikes and likes to surprise her with her favorite meal? Or that his hugs feel like home especially after a long day at work? She couldn’t possibly tell him that the song he wrote for her still makes her cry when she hears it play on the radio. She's in way too deep, this is worse than she thought.

“Court? You alright there? You’ve been staring into space for the last five minutes. Did something happen at work?”

“Huh? Oh no, nothing. I was just zoning out. I’m tired of thinking.”

“Oh okay, does that mean you want me to decide where we order takeout from tonight? I’m not feeling up to cooking and you’ve been so busy.”

“I’m not too busy to make us dinner. Plus I know you’ve been stressed too, why don't I make your favorite meal for a change. We have all the ingredients here at home!”

She smiles at him as she attempts to walk away into the kitchen, but his expression changed almost immediately after hearing her offer. Normally he would smile back and thank her for being so kind, but something was different tonight, he seemed like he was holding himself back. Now she was concerned, maybe his latest collaborator was giving him trouble. She moves closer to him then gently touches his shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

She feels her breath catch at his admission, could it be? Did he actually feel the same way too? Her eyes widen, she doesn’t know what to say.

“This is probably a mistake, but I don’t think I can pretend I’m not in love with you anymore… Courtney, I’m crazy about you.”

“Trent…”

“I know it seems out of the blue, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. I’m sorry I hid it, I thought I could get over it, but the more I got to know you… the more I got to see how amazing you are. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same…”

She leans forward to capture his lips, silencing any doubts he had. She’s been dreaming of this for so long, it feels as if she’s waited her whole life for him. Her hand clutches his t-shirt while the other moves up to cup his face, his arms wrapped around her waist as he deepens the kiss. She couldn’t be more delighted, her happiness was clearly written on her face as they broke apart for air with their foreheads still touching.

“In case that wasn’t clear… I don’t wanna be just friends anymore.”

His laughter brings butterflies in her stomach as he leans in for another kiss. She closes her eyes in contentment. This, this was what happiness feels like, finally being with the one you’ve always loved.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist. 

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful. 

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks. 

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty. 

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed. 

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it. 

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?” 

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind. 

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” 

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.” 

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges. 

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.