#i dunno i don't really get shoving everything at you as soon as you start. like do i really have to have these little journal things Now ?

[keeps-ache]

game wants my email to play, i give it my email. i don't play game, because it was kind of eh anyway. they send me emails, because i gave them my email. i ignore them. they send me more emails. i ignore them. they send me email with a subject title that is essentially 'hey free stuff !!!!'. i boot up game. game wants to update. i know this takes forever so i do other stuff in the meantime. it doesn't finish updating for 3 hours. my computer is lagging. my music is bugging. my stylus is trying to fake another death. it's finally done updating !! i hit 'play'. loading screen for 30+ minutes and i can't listen to my music now because i don't have the option to turn off game's music on the loading screen. my everything is so slow. so so slow. but also.. despite all this................. free stuff.........

[mydearchoso]

Haunted Hearts

-gojo satoru

//angsty. devoted reader. depressed! gojo because i can fix him </3

A/N: haunted hearts, we melt over the fabric of your floorrrr (couch, but ptv reference ehehe). i wrote this in like an hour?? i don't really write for fun like this often, so idk how this turned out 😫 it's been like 4 years since i've written anything like this. ALSO, i didn't proofread it 🤭. dunno why its so angsty but i was just churning it out... sorry? divider by cafekitsune

wc- 550ish

coming home after a long day. walking down the seemingly endless hallway to your apartment as your chest heaves and your heels drag. your day isn't over yet though, as you're greeted by a cluster of white hair and a long, lanky body that shrivels against your door. who know's how long he had been there, how long he would have waited. with one final sigh, you exhume as much of your fatigue — physical as well as mental, before pushing your key in the door, unlocking it.

before twisting the knob, you shove the bag hanging off your shoulder behind you, and squat down in front of the grown man at your door. a soft smile graces you lips as you push a tuft of his messy, unkempt hair back and whisper, "what am i to do with you, huh?"

the same heavy silence that usually permeated your hallway became more dense as the man greets your question with silence. as your smile turns weary and your voice softens, you implore him, "come on, satoru. i can't pick you up all by myself. help me get you on your feet."

as you wrap your arms around his torso, you bring one to the handle in preparation. under your breath and into his ear, you count, "one... two... three." he comes up surprisingly easy for as dead as he had first appeared. shuffling inside the dimly lit apartment, you first slide off your own shoes, before leaning gojo against the wall to help him take off his own.

once all shoes were properly discarded in the entryway, and coats were dismissed, you lead him to the couch (what could also be recognized as the the lounging area closest to the door). you let him situate himself, before joining him on the opposite side of the couch.

almost as soon as you settle, gojo is leaning towards you. twisting his body to allow his face to rest between your hips and waist, while his arms snaked themselves around you. he held you tight, the pressure catching you off guard. despite his unusual behavior, your hands naturally assumed their position, the left carding through his hair and the right rubbing his back. a shuddering breath racked his body as you did so, his face pushing deeper into your belly.

a new, but familiar silence hung itself in the air as everything fell into place. the damp, sticky one that clings to every fiber of your being. the one you can't manage to wash off no matter how hard you scrub, that stains your skin and maims the soul. the one that gojo would never be rid of.

over time, this same silence started clinging to you, much like a scent or habit does. you didn't mind it. you never would. if sharing even an ounce of it would take any of the weight off his shoulders, you would take it on gladly.

for as long as he was the strongest, as long as death continued to follow him, he would never be able to rid himself of this silence. soap and water could do wonders for the blood he's had on his hands, but only time (and perhaps some love) can work to chip away at the guilt harbored deep in his heart.

[thegamingcatmom]

Usually, I have thoughts on Tanya and Kate, but here's a thought for Irina

Thoughts on MC talking books with Irina?

Idk what Irina would be reading. Part of my mind goes she's sophisticated, classy, some old book she picked up that's like a first edition.

Then the other part of my mind goes yknow....what if she read romance or fantasy romance. Girl's expectations are built high on the novels of young adult romance. With her being a romantic and all, I can't help but feel she'd like reading pining and other things.

But anyways MC sees a story she knows and likes that Irina is currently reading again cause irina likes the series. MC then, despite her fear and better judgment of this denali sister, strikes up conversation like an excited child talking about their favourite thing. Except then shipping is brought up. Idk where I'm going with this, but say MC asks who's her favourite pairing? Irina going with the obvious canon pair, hasnt considered anything else, and then MC goes cool. I like (ships character with other character)

Irina: confused

They don't get together??? Character goes with canon pair

MC:well yes but this pair has better chemistry, and then MC proceeds to bring up multiple points on a different perspective to how story could be viewed

Idk MC introduces her to fanfiction?

Irina: >:|

First time hearing about shipping

Not sure how to feel about other character in her ship with other character

Can't accept it(yet)

Thinks canon ship is superior

Don't think Irina has talked to many people about her favourite series

It isn't until later that she really thinks about it and goes damn MC kinda right

Cue Irina reading fanfiction in private

She won't tell MC that she's right

But she will chat about story with MC cause idk I don't expect her chatting with her sisters about a Fandom she likes, like Irina keeps her favourites secret

Anyways ye that's my Irina thought

(Shoves Irina forward and books it out the door)

-📚

Hi 📚!

Aight so, I have to admit, I´m not a huuuge fan of including/seeing fanfiction in my fanfiction. Y´know what I´m saying? 😅

(Same with Y/N btw. That´s a huge turn-off for me. Sorry to anyone who´s feeling addressed rn! 😖)

I dunno, it just feels a tad bit weird to me. It´s like watching someone watching someone watching someone watching someone watching someone watching-

...Y´know?? 😭

But to each their own ofc! And something I can totally get behind is Irina and MC discussing book matters. Or well, MC somewhat anxiously asking about a thing or two when she hears Irina and Carmen talk about it.

Carmen is only all too happy to include her ofc. She immediately starts gushing, asking MC about her favorite character and pairing, and so on. Which prompts MC to gush as well, asking about Carmen´s favorite character and pairing, and so on. Soon, they find themselves in a heated discussion of their own.

And Irina? Well, she doesn´t find it at all funny that the mortal worms her way into every aspect of her life. Can´t she have a conversation in peace anymore?? Without the human being the center of attention?? My God-

She was about to leave, not at all willing to listen to that rubbish-

MC, in response to smt Carmen said: "You think so? I don´t know...they just don´t make sense to me, y´know? Zero chemistry and all. I never really liked Julian anyway. He´s so...treacherous."

Irina: *stops in her tracks cause...bish said what?*

Irina, turning back around: "...Treacherous?"

MC, who didn´t expect Irina to actually listen to what she´s saying: *panics*

Irina, walking back to them cause the dmg is done now: "How is someone who´s willing to do everything for the one he loves treacherous?"

MC: *gaping like a fish out of water as she struggles to remember the English language*

Irina, who has reached them by now: *raises her eyebrow, crosses her arms*

Irina: "Well?"

MC: *shoots Carmen a look that clearly says 'HELP ME'*

Carmen: *smiles lovingly at her in a way that clearly says 'You got this...dumbass.'*

MC: *turns back to Irina*

Irina: *starts tapping her foot impatiently*

MC: *fml, here goes nothing-*

MC, taking a deep breath: "For one, I think he´s incredibly selfish-"

Irina, already starting to lose it: "He´s-"

Camen: *shoots her the look*

Irina: *...wisely shuts her mouth again*

MC: "...And he´s...manipulative. He knows exactly what to say and how to behave to make people trust him, and he exploits that trust the first chance he gets."

Irina: *mulls it over for a moment*

Irina, refusing to back down: "He didn´t exploit anything. He acted in a way that he thought was best-"

MC, slowly forgetting who she´s talking to: "Best for whom?"

Irina: *blinks at her*

MC, emboldened by the silence: "He didn´t take one moment to think about the consequences of his actions, because he didn´t care. All he cared about was settling an old score-"

Carmen: *slowly backs away and out of the living room*

Tanya & Kate: *entering the house, only just returning from their hunt, about to greet Carmen*

Carmen: *makes the shushing motion*

Tanya & Kate: ❓👀❓

Carmen: *gestures to the living room*

Tanya & Kate: *take a look...and then another*

Kate, in a low voice: "...When the hell did that happen?"

Irina, in the distance: "-only did that because he saw no other choice! He did what he thought necessary to protect himself and the one he loves-" MC, in the distance: "Are you kidding-"

Tanya, planting her hands on her hips in utter disbelief: "What in God´s name is going on?"

Carmen, proud as punch: "I think we have a breakthrough."

.

.

.

OKAY I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH. 😭

In fact, I added this idea to my list of things I wanna include in The Sisters at some point because this is just too damn accurate. Tysm for inspiring this. 🙏

Oh btw: I think Irina is heavy into anything romance. She´s always dreamed of finding "the one," which is why you´ll most likely find her with her nose buried in some tragic love tale or a story about mutual pining where external circumstances always prevent the pair from getting together at first.

In other words: She enjoys a good slow-burn. 😉

Tysm for your ask! 💋

EDIT:

Who do y´all think "Julian" is meant to represent? 😏

[spctrsgf]

Hi. If you're taking requests, could you write like cooking/baking with Steven Grant, like it started as a fun activity but it quickly turned into a competition. Like flour everywhere, playfully sabotaging eachother (not too much ofc). (Gn reader)

flour and powdered sugar

word count: 1.5k

warnings: language 

a/n: anon!!!!! thank you for this, you singlehandedly got me off my ass and back to writing! i hope this is what you were envisioning :) also this gif doesnt match the story but its the same energy ykyk

“Love,” Steven calls as he flutters into the room, a mess of flailing hands. “Love, love, love, love-“ 

“Yeah?”

“We— we should—“ his words tumble so fast out of his mouth they’re barely words at all.

“Hey,” you grab his hands and attempt to center him. “Calm down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Can we- can we pleaseeeeeeeee bake something?”

“Like what?”

“Well, what do we have in the pantry?” He pulls out of your grip and over to the kitchen, and you collapse again onto the sofa.

“I dunno; it’s your apartment.” 

He grunts distractedly, sticking his head into every cabinet. 

By the time he speaks up again, you were halfway into a stupor. “So,” he grins down at you from his position above your head. “Let’s bake a cake!” You raise your eyebrows. “A cake? What type?”

“Well, we have the ingredients for a vanilla, lemon, or chocolate cake.”

You sit up suddenly and meet his gaze with light shining in your eyes. “Lemon.”

He nods. “Lemon.”

You squeal with excitement, nearly knocking over Steven in your quick ascent and scramble for the cookbook. Soon enough, the two of you had collected all of the ingredients, each placed in a neat semicircle around the cookbook. 

“Preheat the oven, will you?” You turn expectantly to your counterpart, who did as he was told with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s get going!!” Steven said, trying to contain his excitement to a dull hum with little success.

You smile. “Okay, but first—“

“Separate the supplies for more efficiency?”

“You know it.” It only slightly surprises you that he knew you so well.

“Alright, so you do the dry ingredients.” He tries to move the dry ingredients towards you, but your hand wrapping around his wrist stops the movement short. 

“I was thinking we separate doing everything.”

He frowns playfully. “What, don't like baking with me?”

“Of course I don't,” you drawl playfully, going along with the act. “You’re the worst person to bake with.”

He slaps his hand to his chest, matching your energy. “How could you say such a thing!”

“It’s true.” You shoot your hand up in front of his face, turning your face away from him. 

He grabs your hand and then your chin, making you meet his gaze and big smile. “Don’t do this to me, love! I just can’t go on without you!”

You knock his hand off of your chin with slightly dusted cheeks. “Alright, alright, enough.”

He chuckles. “Back to baking— you really want to split up entirely?”

“Yeah.” you grin at him mischievously. 

“Oh no. Do I want to know why?”

“Probably.”

He grimaces. “Why?”

“It’ll be a competition.” 

“What-“

“You’ll probably win.” You shrug. 

He narrows his eyes at you. “Bullshit, we both know you’ll win.”

“That’s true, but you’ll do it anyway.”

“Yeah, I will.” He sighs. 

“I call the mixer first!” You lunge towards the drawer where the said item resides. 

“Wha— no!” Steven shoved your hands away, using his proximity to the drawer to his advantage.

“Not fair!” You shout at his triumphant face. “I called it!”

“Finders keepers,” He laughs. “Good luck with the whisk!”

“You fucker.”

“Love you too!”

The room faded into silence as you both got to work on either side of the countertop, the only noise being the whir! of the electric mixer and your huffs of effort. 

As soon as you finish mixing up the butter and sugar, you pull out an empty bowl, ready to mix up the dry ingredients. Seeing that Steven was close to grabbing the flour, you crowd the bag in towards yourself. He groans in frustration, and you make sure to take your sweet time with measuring.

The crease between his brows and the deep set frown on his face is almost enough for you to take pity on him, but the adrenaline had pulled you too far to turn back now. As soon as the last speck of flour hits your bowl, Steven is leaning over the counter to grab the flour.

“Hah!” He exclaims, sticking his tongue out at you. “Hey! Rude!” You bite back a smile. He’s so caught up in the victory of getting the flour that he doesn't see the bit of flour left in your measuring cup. 

You consider in the moment to not follow through with your plan, seeing as it would end up with the kitchen full of a mess that you two would have to clean up. The prospect wasn’t nearly as enticing as seeing Steven’s shocked face, so the smile on your face grows exponentially larger.

As soon as Steven’s head tilts down, you grab a bit of the flour and prepare yourself to attack. When his head starts to tilt upwards, you launch the flour across the countertop and to its destination. The laugh you let out sounds like it came from a six year old, but you couldn’t care less.

Steven’s face twists into surprise just as you had expected, and his face is dusted lightly in the white powder of the flour. He spits the flour out of his mouth in disgust, glaring at you. One hand comes up to ruffle the flour out of his curls while the other hand goes into— the flour?

The next thing you know, there’s a poof of white dust and flour has been thrown into your face, some even in your mouth which had been open while you’d been laughing. Your gasp of surprise sends the Brit next to you into ear splitting laughter, and you watch bitterly as he grabs the countertop for support. 

“You dick!” You yell at him. “I didn’t even throw that much at you!” 

“You—“ he juts out between breaths. “You totally deserved that!”

“I did? Really? Well how do you like this!” You toss a glob of flour at him, only half of it meeting Stevens face. 

“Oh really?” He throws more flour back at you.

By the time you’re done throwing flour, the floor sports a light sheen of flour for a six foot radius and half the bag is empty. “Damn.” you huff. 

“That was a new bag of flour.” Steven pouts. 

“I’m glad we’re at your place and not mine.” You shrug, going back to adding your dry ingredients. 

“Hah! At your place you wouldn’t even have a bag of bloody flour.” 

You throw a puff of powdered sugar at him. “Rude!”

“You know I’m right.” He quips, tossing a dash of sugar back at you.

“The only reason I’m not throwing more sugar at you is because I don’t want to clean up more stuff from the flour, not because I’m backing down.” 

“Mhm, tell yourself that.”

If looks could kill, Steven would be absolutely obliterated under the weight of your glare. Your teeth grit together and your nails dig into the skin of your palms in concealed anger, but you still don’t retaliate, instead opting to go back to pouring in your ingredients. Steven too falls back into making his own cake, you both laughing and teasing each other along the way.

Soon (and that’s putting it lightly), the cakes had been placed into the oven and Steven had collapsed onto the couch. You, on the other hand, are busy in the kitchen, cleaning up a bit of the mess. “Funny how this is your kitchen yet I’m the one who’s cleaning it.” You complain, rolling on to your tippy toes to place the sugar away. “Funny how I didn’t ask you to do that.” His retort is lightning quick.

“Oh, I’m sorry for wanting your place to be clean so you can’t blame me for it being messy.”

“You should be, my gods.”

You roll your eyes, dropping the half empty bag of flour onto the table. “Fine, I’m stopping, but you can’t say I didn’t try later!”

“Actually–”

“Shut it.” You interrupt him, rounding the counter and heading towards him. 

“Of course, love, at your service.” He mocks.

Your only response is to plop yourself next to him on the couch, tossing your legs on top of his and settling into the couch with a contented sigh. “Hey!” He protests. “Get your stinky feet off of me! They smell bloody awful!” You snort. “You’re not actually mad at me.”

“You threw flour in my face!”

“Mhm.” You snuggle further into the couch. 

“Twice!”

“That’s true.”

“And then you threw powdered sugar in my face!”

“Steven, you keep stating facts like I don’t know them already.”

“It’s all in my hair.” You could hear his pout.

“And?”

He deflates. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You shoot up onto your hands, staring up at him with mockingly wide eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“You heard me.”

“No, I didn’t, could you please repeat it?”

He shoved your shoulder. “Fuck off.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. How else are you going to have some fun in your ever so boring life?”

His arm shoots out and his fingers push into the junction of your elbow, sending you crashing backwards onto the sofa. “I hate you.”

You laugh at him from your debunked position. “No you don’t.”

He sighed with a grin. “No, I really don’t.”

[starblubberball]

Prompt: While messing with the wand Janna accidentally curses herself to become the worst thing, a fat bunny girl that can only be satiated with carrot desserts

~ BwwWW- BOOOM! ~

A loud blast and explosion is heard coming out from Star's bedroom, it was so thunderous that it almost caused a quake in all Echo Creek... But what could have caused this? Could it be Star trying to make something she hasn't even tried yet? Could it have been her practicing to get her magic back to normal?

None of that... From a huge cloud of pink mist and a constant coughing, something would emerge from the clouds of magic... A pair of tubby rabbit paws would lightly stomp in the ground, and a familiar voice could be heard...

"Cough cough! Ugh... Alright, I guess I deserved that... My head hurts...".

As soon as the mist disappeared, what could be seen was a extremely obese, wide and confused rabbit humanoid, with a pair of long ears, a twitchy pink nose, long, adorable teeth, and coated on white fur with a few light brown patches around on it... As well as a really stretched out yellow skirt, a dark blue short coat, a dark green shirt, and most remarkably, a green beanie that couldn't cover the rabbit's ears.

It was Janna, who seemed to have finally gotten something in exchange for maybe trying to "borrow" or play around with Star's wand.

"Phew!... O-kay... I am going to leave that in here and uhh...- HUH!?".

Just right when she was about to put down the wand, she could notice her white furred paws, just turning around immediately to Star's strange mirror/phone hybrid, and being surprised by herself turned into a rabbit.

"GAH! What the-!? W-What did the wand-!?".

One thing would have been getting a part of her body swapped or change, or even turning into a monster, but turning into an adorable, extra, extra cuddly and padded morbidly obese rabbit girl was not one of the things she would like, mostly based on her usual attitude and hating being seen as... Cute.

"Awww c'mon! I knew I shouldn't have taken Star's wand, but you could have at least turned me into- I dunno, a blob-like beast? Maybe a dragon? A demon at least!".

Janna yelled towards the wand that simply laid down in Star's extra wide bed, just to turn around again to the mirror, looking at herself, putting her tubby paws around her whole body, even noticing how she remained largely obese as she was... Her shock would be interrupted by a sudden ~ GrrRRRWwwwlll... ~ that her huge belly released, and getting Janna's furry cheeks to go pink.

"Not now... Uuugh, I have to find a way to change myself back! I can't stay like this any longer! I don't wanna look like this-! This... Th... This... Mmmh... Damn it, I'm craving for some carrot cake now...".

Janna patted her fur coated gut with both hands as she looked around for something that she could use to calm her belly down... Until a sudden flashing light was viewed from where the wand was left.

Just when Janna turned around, she would notice that a large carrot cake was laying in Star's bed, it looked pretty big, very well made and... Delicious, above everything else.

"... Carrot... Ca- N-Nononono, Janna, control yourself, you don't need that... Ha! I ain't falling for that one, Star's... Stupid wand! It's gonna take much more to... T-To get me distracted!".

Janna was already chanting victory before anything, feeling her belly gurgling and growling again, demanding for some of that cake to be shoved into her mouth... Janna did her best to ignore the screams of hunger from her gut, but it was not enough.

"M-Mmhh... C'mon, you can't make me fall for that... You would need much more for-!".

Just like it was listening to Janna, the wand would start making large carrot cakes to start spawning around the room, they all looking just at the first one.

Janna's pupils shrunk as she saw how one cake became two, then from two now we're four, and so on... That would only make Janna release a little sight out of realization.

"Uuugh... Y'know what? Screw it".

And so, Janna went right away to where the cakes were spawning, starting to shove chunks of the delicious, magical pastry work into her mouth, beginning to soothe the demands of her belly, just enjoying herself as she laid down in Star's bed while eating.

"Mmooph... Aummph... Yeah, I'll jusht'sh change back later... Not'sh gonna let'sh deshe carrot'sh cakesh to go to washte".

The end :)

[anditvanisheslikemist]

Literally everything you write with sick Ian is great so that’d be my preference!

Thank you for the prompt!!

(re: this post... and the offer still stands if anyone else wants to make a request!)

Set at some point after this angsty thing. Here's the link to all of the World Above stuff. :-)

You can read this fic below or on AO3.

. . . . .

"How was the show?" Josh leans his head back against the couch, and Finley takes the opportunity to shove his nose into Josh's face and start licking him enthusiastically.

"Finn! Hiii, puppy," Ian coos.

Josh laughs. "Yeah, he's always gonna win out, huh?"

"Mm, maybe." Ian turns away from the camera to cough.

Kate comes around the back of the couch to get in frame as well. "Hi, Ian."

"Kate!" Ian's eyes light up, but his voice wavers a little bit when he says, "Ah, I miss you guys."

"We miss you too." Kate tips her head against Josh's and frowns a little. "You okay? You look really tired."

"Yeah." Ian rolls his shoulders and grimaces. "I dunno. I used to be better at sleeping in motels. Or tour buses, god."

"Or that frickin' van?" Josh raises his eyebrows.

"I do not miss that," Ian agrees, and turns aside to cough again.

The stove timer beeps, and Kate sits back up. "Ah, I've got to get that. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Ian nods, still coughing, and waves as she heads for the kitchen.

"Ian," Josh says, in a way that's synonymous with oh, buddy.

"I'm okay." He's sounding kind of hoarse. "It was loud at the bar."

"Hmm."

Ian scrunches up his nose, then scrubs at it with his fist, but he can't stop it when his breath catches and builds into a strong h'ET-schiew! "Oh," he mutters, scrubbing at his nose some more. "Fuck."

"Bless you."

Ian groans and lets himself fall sideways onto the pillows of his motel bed.

"I have to play tomorrow." Now that he's started, he can't stop sniffling.

"Not if you're sick, you don't."

"Not sick," he says, but it's more of a pout than anything.

"It's not like before," Josh says gently, running a hand through Finley's fur. They'd played through all kinds of shit. Before. He wonders if it'll ever go back to being like that, or if this is just how it's going to be from now on.

"I know." Ian scrubs at his nose with the flat of his palm. "I just…" He shakes his head, not meeting Josh's eyes through the phone.

Josh gives him a minute. "Yeah?"

"I just thought we'd all be here together." His sniffle this time is emotion as much as illness. "I mean, not here in this motel playing at some random bar. But like." He bites his lip. "Here."

"I know." They'd been working on it, slowly and uncertainly. And then the whole world had shut down. He wants to tell Ian that it'll happen, that they can try again at trying again, even after all this time. There are just too many unknowns. The state of the world, for one. And the fact that they've all got stuff going again. Danny's producing out in Oakland. Lauren's started streaming online, sometimes music and sometimes video games and sometimes just talking about whatever's on her mind. Nate and Ellie are having another baby. Josh had moved his guitar lessons to Zoom and for the most part kept them there, and the idea of leaving the safety of his life with Kate and Finn to go back out on the road seems too overwhelming to even think about right now.

Ian, though. Ian's never been good at staying in one place. He'd gone back to touring as soon as it was reasonably safe. He's happier now, for sure, but sometimes just as lonely as when he'd been stuck in his apartment. More so, given how many roommates he'd been squeezed in with at the time.

"Hey," Josh says, gentle. "Tell me about the show."

That gets him a little bit of a smile. "It was good." He swipes at his nose with the back of his hand. "There were these girls who drove three hours to come."

"Wow."

"Yeah. And I wrote some new stuff." He shrugs, suddenly shy. "It went over pretty good."

"Send it to me, I want to hear it." For so long, Josh would've been there, in the hotel room and the tour bus, hearing the song come together bit by bit, rather than hearing about it after the fact.

"Okay." It's just a whisper. There are tears in Ian's eyes. Finn whines at the phone and tries to lick the screen.

"You're getting puppy kisses from Finley."

"Thanks, Finn." He sniffs, and coughs, and rubs at his forehead.

"How're you feeling? Seriously," he adds, when it looks like Ian's going to say he's fine.

Ian shrugs. "Like I'm getting sick." He coughs again. "I don't know. My head hurts. And my throat."

"Do you feel like you have a fever?" If he does, it's low. He's not glassy-eyed and rosy-cheeked, he's just exhausted and sniffly and sad. Past experience says he's hanging out somewhere right around the tipping point between warm and feverish.

Ian considers for a second, and then shivers. "I'm kinda cold. A little achy, maybe."

"Get under the covers."

"It's too early to go to…hhh…k'TCHHH! to go to sleep." He wriggles around anyway until the comforter's pulled up to his chin. He absentmindedly wipes his nose on it and Josh flinches.

"You're the reason I don't trust hotel sheets."

"Oh. Sohhh… h'NGT!choo…" Caught in the bedding again. He doesn't finish the apology, just sort of stares into the middle distance past the phone.

"Bless you." Josh sighs. "Okay, who's letting tomorrow's venue know you're out, you or me?"

"No," Ian says, voice wavering again.

"Yes." This move from Ian like he's pushing his forehead into his pillows, and Josh knows that if Ian were here he'd be doing that move against Josh's shoulder right now. "I can do it. The info's in your business email?" Josh has had access for years, but it's been a while since he needed to step in.

Ian nods miserably. "And we need to get you a test— yes, even if you're sure that's not what this is— and some groceries, and meds, some nice tissues. And extend your motel reservation."

Kate's been listening from the kitchen, and she comes to sit on the couch with Josh and Finley. "We've got it, Ian. Text me your grocery requests."

"I'll do the reservation at the same time I call the venue," Josh says. It's the sort of thing that would have sent him anxiety-spiraling five years ago. Now, here at home with Kate and Finn, it feels easy. An act of love.

"I can't." Ian's shaking a little bit, now; exhaustion and frustration and that little bit of fever.

"It's okay." Kate's voice is reassuring. "Having to cancel for being even just a little sick is just part of the deal now. Everyone will understand."

The kitchen timer goes off again and Kate gets up to turn off the stove and put the finishing touches on dinner.

"We'll work on all that," Josh says. "Call me back in an hour or two if you want."

"Okay." Now that he's under the covers, his eyes are starting to close.

"I think Lauren's streaming tonight, so if you can't get her on the phone you can always show up in the chat."

Ian laughs at that. It turns into a cough. "Everyone always freaks out when I do that."

"The best medicine." For Ian, it really is. He needs attention the way a plant needs water and sunlight. It's not an insult, it's just the truth: he wilts and fades without it, and when he gets it again, he straightens up. Fills out. Comes back to life.

"Hmm." Ian's already perking up a little bit at the thought. "I guess I could do that."

"Good." More screen kisses from Finn. "Finley says he loves you. Talk to you soon."

"Okay." A small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Josh."

He smiles back. "Any time."

[arthrobug]

1. Whatever font Google Doc has that wrinkles my brain/Whatever font Wattpad is in

2. I used to write while books and everything by hand, there's a reason there was a giant bump there and only has become smaller in recent years. Thank glob for computer writing my hand, wrist, and arm has never been so painless.

4. First thought was the usage of 'cocked'. Off the top of my head it can be used in four separate ways that are all slightly or incredibly different.

6. That I suck at it- ya know, the usual writer's fear.

7. The power to make people clench their chest or punch the air in happiness, pain, sadness, anger, etc. Feel your heart rage at my lexicon, I beseech you.

8. A philosophical story. That shiz could go on forever and I wouldn't see a lick of movement until page 117.

9. 👻

10. A Lidge (Lance x Pidge) fic was the first thing I published on Wattpad. I don't regret shipping the pairing itself, but DAMN was the writing, pacing, ALL OF IT was off as hell... A paragraph break was the rarest thing in it, e u g h .

12. The ability to know what word I'm desperately trying to recall for what I'm writing. How to write the emotion I want to portray in the way I want to (bad, okay, good). Lastly, the ability to change writing styles/genre styles incredibly easily.

13. Difficult? Uh, that's difficult to think about ironically lmao- I'm not exactly sure, but I guess topics I don't know much about. That changes quickly though, I research fast and thoroughly. Easiest has to be emotional outbursts, mental health situations, and other shtuff similar to that. Hilariously, romance is also kind of easy, says the AroAce asdfghjkl-

14. Books be mine, no touchy. That's it, memory be very poor-

15. I read exclusively on my bed/anywhere that's comfortable to me, and no I don't write or bend physical books, never have and never will... Actually, I bend corners a little cuz of my wiggle brain BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT-

16. A cat's tail; sanitized/covered food; my leg or head

17. 'The Seven Deadly Skele-Sins' follows the story of an incredibly traumatized skeleton monster blackmailed into doing burlesque work. The leader of one of the two gangs in the city, Nightmare, saves him from an attack, and they slowly become friends, and eventually the gang leader reveals who he is to the blackmailed monster. After some plot points, training, etc, the blackmailed skeleton decided to officially join the gang as the Seventh Sin, Lust. There's also the several Warriors fics my brain has suddenly shoved into my eyes, the most prominent one being (name might change) 'Dripstar's Protection', where a loner becomes the leader of a Clan, and he and his Clanmates' arrival saves the other three Clans from further destruction of themselves.

19. I started when I was four, and it's been going pretty well, I guess. People would always tell me my writing and reading ability was far higher than the other kids, but nowadays? I'm clearly slowing down and I almost seem to be getting dumber or something. It's getter harder to read, speak, and occasionally write. It's probably because of my blatantly obvious mental disabilities, but I dunno, lmao. I want to expand my vocabulary a bit more, and try out new genres of fanfiction to write!

20. 😰... thesecondchoice

21. Heck no, mun.

22. I either organize my notes really well or I just sh-t out the story as soon as I think of it lkjhgfds-

23. My writing environment is very commonly in the comfort of my room. I usually sit or lay down on my three blanketed bed, the lowest layer being a thin, pale blue, and cool sheet. The second being a thicker, warmer and fluffier blanket of the same colour, and the third being a light yet heavy light brown comforter, the underside of the sectioned comforter a ghostly brown, almost white. The sheet covering the scratchy white mattress is also the same shade of blue as the previously mentioned blankets. It's slowly peeling off, and needs to be reattached to the mattress soon. There are three store-bought pillows on the bed, the longest being the farthest back: a red and black checkered item with a black cover. The two other pillows on it is a pillow with a pale grey cover, and a scrunched up white pillow with a red cover. There is a large and worn Panda Pillow Pet resting on the red pillow, a slightly less used and smaller panda to the left of it. The smaller Pillow Pet is barely propped against a big homemade pillow, it is cyan and fluffy, and a much smaller homemade pillow of the same style rests on it. It's top side is also cyan and furry, but the bottom is smooth and soft, a lace design of faded white on it. An additional store-bought pillow is propped against the homemade one. It has a black cover, and it is very feeble and easy to bend. This pillow rests under the three blankets, which means 3/4 of it is covered. For comfort, 13 plushies of different designers and styles are scattered across the messy bed and pillows. A Fresh!Ink plushie is tucked under the blankets. Two handmade insect plushies sit on the big fluffy pillow, their colours like the Asexual flag: black at the front, grey next, then white, and lastly purple, with their little nubs of legs reflecting the colour they are attached to, four white eyes on the black section, and crooked grey antennae attached to the dark head as well. Behind the insect plushies, and again, on the largest pillow, the smallest homemade headrest -one the size of a hand-held purse, covered in cyan fur as well,- acts as a blanket for three Pikmin toys: red on the left, blue in the middle, and yellow on the right. Their stalks of leaves, bulbs and flowers lay on a large, cylindrical corgi plushie that is wearing a corgi hat, and has a paler and smaller corgi plush standing on all four paws on its bright orange back. Directly above the smaller panda Pillow Pet, a ferret toy lies. It's name is Minty, and it is a replacement of the original ferret plush, Vainilla. Next to Minty, a kangaroo Squishmallow named Ross lies on its back, staring with its beady black eyes up to the white ceiling. The side of the bed that is against the wall sits two gargoyle plushies. They're clearly Squishmallow ripoffs, but they're cute anyways. Finally, stuffed away to the open side of the bed, a tiny and old hedgehog stuffie hides under the large homemade pillow, tucked away under it.

This was too many words lmao next question

25. About most of my characters: 3/4ths of them are either gay, disabled, monsters, or all three. It's actually more like 7/8ths,,,,

26. I sometimes think if it happening to me (dark/sweet I know), or I already know what it's like and I apply my personal experience.

27. No clue! Honestly, maybe characters I don't like/relate to at all ahaha-

28. Monsters and trans masc characters 😌💞🏳️‍⚧️💀

31. Y'all pretty if you give me comments, votes, whatever more than simple reads, I give you smoochies muah muah

32. The poem 'Ozymandias'. I've been following SAD-ist long before the green rat man was scuttling around, and I simply loved that animation a ton, but that poem... I don't know why, but it's very important/influential to me.

33. Illustrations of course! I make those for my writing works lmao

35. "Write everyday!" B-tch I'm tired let me rest

36. I know that centipedes on my absolute favorite arthropod. Did you know their family name class name can't remember whatever is called Chilopoda I find that funny millipedes are called diplopoda you know like diplo's and no man's sky what fun I'm using Texas speech no one really cares not Texas all right whatever. Y'all know what pauropods are if anyone ever seen the f****** troll movies trolls movie God those movies suck in my opinion but like the little little dj things they ride on those things look like pauropods and pauropods are so f****** cute that's not how you spell pauropods you s***** ass text to speech I'm swearing a lot oh jeez this is a wall of text hahaha holy crap it actually caught me laughing well actually I just said hahaha but you know whatever wait what was the question

37. A very wordy and depressed sociopath maybe

38. I talk to myself to figure it. I don't actually find it weird but non-writers def do. My cat is always talkin sh-t bout me while also cuddling and loving me

39. The thought of failure.

40. I don't know how to write poems, I'm really bad at them asdflkjhg-

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[peanutpinet]

Lucas (mafia leader) x Reader (female)

A/N: I had this thought for days now and was like, ya know, just let it out. This is my first NCT (?) WayV (?) fanfic? Scenario? Yea XD For those who have read my past fanfics/scenarios, you know how horrible I am in explaining XD but yea, essentially I just imagine that you, the reader are a uni student whilst Lucas is part of the NCT mafia, "leader" of the WayV unit (I know Kun is technically the leader, but just for the sake of the story), okie, leggo

Sighing in defeat, you gathered all your books, stationery and some clothing before sneakily going out of your dorm and to your boyfriend's apartment since he gave you the spare key, saying that it was for emergencies or whenever you wanted to come over.

After texting Lucas that you were heading to his apartment, you went to grab a cab and head there. Truth be told, you never really went there and only got the address from Lucas. Which is why upon arriving, your jaw nearly dropped when you saw his apartment; even making sure whether the address Lucas gave last time was the exact one and making a mental note to yourself to look up things beforehand.

Upon arriving, you felt like you just came from the countryside to the big city. You went to the front desk and inform them who were you looking for, handing in your ID card and was immediately directed to the elevator, one of the securities pressing the highest floor of the elevator and left you in the elevator on your own.

Just when you thought that it couldn't get any fancier, the minute you stepped out of the elevator, you were amazed at the decor and the fact that there was only one door made it even grander. Taking out the key Lucas gave you, you were actually hoping that it wasn't the correct one and Lucas just sent you the wrong address but as it turns out, the key fits and you took a deep breath, walking into the room.

But on Lucas' side, he actually didn't receive your text message. So, the second he heard someone coming into his suite, he was already reaching for his gun because he wasn't really expecting anyone to come. But as soon as he heard your signature nervous voice, he felt relieved but worried at the same time. Did something happen to you?

"Lucas? Ar-are you in here? The people at the front desk just directed me here. I uh sent you a text" you called out

"I'm here sweetheart. Now, what brings you here at this late hour? Is there anyone I should be concern with?" Lucas stated, coming out of his bedroom

"Huh? Wow. I mean, no. Sorry, it's my first time here. I uh, I was just wondering if I could stay for the night. The dorm was so loud that I couldn't study nor sleep" you admitted, trying to avoid eye contact with Lucas, thinking that it was a lame excuse to come over

"Of course you can. I gave you the spare key for a reason, didn't I? Uh, sorry about the mess and all. I didn't expect you to come. I didn't receive any messages. C'mere sweetheart" Lucas mentioned, giving a hand motion for you to go to him

"Really?! I could've sworn I...(looks at your phone) I forgot to click the send button" you sighed, hitting your head as you went over to Lucas

"Hey, hey. Don't do that. You'll hurt your brain even more. No harm sweetheart. My place is yours. Come. I'll order some McDonalds as well if you'd like" Lucas cooed, bringing you into his office

"Damn. Two desktops?! Bro and this processor is the latest one?!" you commented, placing your bag down and immediately inspecting his desk

"Sometimes I play some games with the guys. Feel free to use it if you'd like. Lemon tea or coke?" Lucas asked, scrolling through his phone

"Lemon tea, no ice. It's worth the money better. Are you sure I can study here? Am I not disturbing you?" you questioned, sitting on the chair

"Not at all, sweetheart. It's almost 10pm. I'm done with work. You're free to use my computer. I've ordered your favourites already. I'm going to go for a shower for a bit. Feel free to turn on some music as well, alright? And please don't study for too long. I worry you'll hurt that gorgeous head of yours" Lucas chuckled, kissing your forehead before leaving you in his study room

After settling, putting on some music with your account (which was already in Lucas' Spotify), you grabbed your books and stationery then started to study for your finals. In the midst of it, you heard Lucas coming in with McDonalds; wearing a plain T-shirt and sweats.

Because there was only one chair in his office, with your consent, Lucas placed you on his lap as he was feeding you McDonalds whilst scrolling through his phone, occasionally leaning his head on your back as he does so.

After finishing the food, Lucas was about to get up and cleaned up so you could study a bit better since he knew you didn't like a messy space but when he felt your head slightly leaning backwards, he questioned whether you were already sleepy or not.

"What's wrong love? Tired?" Lucas murmured as he placed his chin on your neck, wrapping his long arms around your waist

"Huh? Oh? Sorry. I didn't realise I was leaning back" you yawned, scrubbing your eyes but Lucas stopped the motion

"Don't. Your eyes will get irritated. I think it's about time you sleep, hmm?" Lucas commented, tucking a hair behind your ear as he kissed the side of your cheek

"Hmm. I guess so" you sighed, leaning onto Lucas's chest

"Alright princess, let me just shut everything off. Kay, let's go to bed" Lucas chuckled, carrying your small figure in his arms and tucking you into his bed before going to the other side of the bed

The next morning, you were woken up by the sound of your phone's alarm but just stayed in bed whilst scrolling through your phone until you realised that you had exams that starts in 45 minutes. Immediately, you got up and went back to the study room to grab your clothes, without even calling out to Lucas and head to the bathroom to get ready.

After getting ready, you were so ready to rush out the door and call a cab until Lucas finally called out to you. Once you told him that your exam was starting in literally 15 minutes, he just chuckled and told you that he'll drive you there; which was a first since all this time, you guys just have dates near your campus since your dorm had strict rules and Lucas would just walk you there (A/N: how you guys met is a story for next time, lol).

After packing some food for you, Lucas grabbed his car keys in one hand and your hand in the other, making your way down to the parking lot where your jaw also almost dropped again since the car Lucas owned is probably enough to pay your whole entire undergraduate life.

Whilst in the car, Lucas told you to eat so you wouldn't be hungry during the exam. He also mentioned that he'll come to pick you up to celebrate finishing your finals since he knew that you've been stressing over this last final for weeks; saying that he'll treat you out.

Once you've arrived, Lucas pulled you to give a slight peck on your forehead, encouraging you to do well in your finals and that he'll see you right after you're done. You smiled and thank him. Getting out of the car, you saw nearly the whole campus that was by the front gate staring at you; even your friends were stunned before rushing to you, managing to get a glimpse at Lucas who just smiled before leaving.

"Gurl!! I knew your boyfriend was hot, but well off? You definitely hit the jackpot!!" one of your friends blurted

"Sis!! Can we save the conversation for later? I need to get this exam over with first" you bargained

"Okay, okay, good luck with your exams!! I'll see you later!!" your friend exclaimed as you went to your exam hall

Thankfully, the exam wasn't as hard as you'd thought. You didn't know if it's because Lucas actually helped you study since he actually knew the subject or something else but you were glad to finally be done with it. After the exam, you got a text from Lucas, saying that he'll be running a bit late which you didn't mind. Your friend, who was also done with her exam, came to your exam hall and didn't spare a second before plastering with all sorts of questions.

Asking you where you've been the night before since you weren't at your dorm; and when you told her you were at Lucas' place, she squealed, asking if you guys did anything spicy which you immediately cut her off, saying that you just went there to study because the rooms near yours were getting too loud and rowdy.

You also explained how kind and caring Lucas was; despite the amount of work he had to deal with, he was still soft when it came to you. Ordering your favourites from McDonalds, letting you just barged into his apartment whenever and even using whatever he had; hearing this, all your friend can do was just squeal, saying that Lucas was the perfect boyfriend.

And right on cue, Lucas texted you saying that he's almost at the front gate. Your friend saw your smile and teased the heck out of you before letting you off just because she supported your relationship; knowing that you had a rough past and it was nice to finally see you happy with someone; someone that genuinely cares about you.

But of course, life ain't that easy. Because just as you were skidding along the halls to the front gate, you accidentally bumped into someone and dropped your phone. You immediately apologised about to get your phone when the person you bumped into stepped on your phone. Looking up, you met with the campus' miss popular with her boyfriend.

"Can you please let go. I really have to go now" you sighed, looking up

"Can't your boyfriend get you another one? Oh wait, is he the one that you're meeting? Honestly, I dunno what he sees in you. Oh wait, I think I do. He's probably just in it to play around or probably did it because of a bet" the girl scoffed but you were just not having it and shoved her feet off, nearly falling if it weren't for her boyfriend being there

After getting your phone, you were about to make a run for it before she grabbed your hair, pulling you back and making you fall; calling you names and all. When you got back to your feet again, she nearly slapped you when you got ahold of her hand about to push her back when her boyfriend came and took your hand, twisting it behind your back, allowing an opening for her to get a good punch out of you.

It felt like forever since you were trapped between the two "bullies" of your campus and for Lucas, it meant something was wrong. It's been almost 30 minutes since he arrived and called you but there was no answer at all. Frustrated, he called Winwin to track your phone as he went in to find you; thinking that you were held captive by one of NCT's enemy.

When he did see you, he felt a slight relief that it wasn't one of NCT's enemy but he was still very much pissed at the sight. When the girl was about to hit you for like the 15th time, Lucas grabbed ahold of her arm, throwing her to the floor before looking at her boyfriend who turns out to be one of the bartenders in one of NCT's bars.

"B-boss..." the man stammered, letting go of your hand as you almost dropped if it weren't for Lucas catching you

"You better come to work tonight. We'll have a lil discussion about respect? Hmm? Make sure everyone comes. Or I'll just have to report Taeyong about this" Lucas growled, making the man cowered in fear

"N-no sir. Everyone will come tonight" the man stuttered as Lucas stood up, holding your figure firmly in his arms

"Good. Wouldn't want to make a big deal out of this hmm? Oh, and do bring your girlfriend while I take mine to treat the wounds you both caused" Lucas scoffed, bringing you out of the campus

Once you've reached his car, he gently placed you and put your seatbelt on before going to the driver's seat. Once he was in, he called Kun, telling him what happened and that he's planning to have a meeting later tonight in the bar. After the call, Lucas took your hand in his, stroking your knuckles as he drove back to his apartment.

Upon arriving, he helped you get out of the car and into his apartment. Inside, he brought you to his room before going to the bathroom and grabbing some medicine for your bruised face and cut on the lips. Lucas treated all your wounds as gently as possible, worrying that he might accidentally hurt you, treating you as if you're as fragile as an egg.

After he was done, he threw all the cotton buds and ordered some food for the both of you; knowing that you will tell him whenever you're ready. He put his hoodie onto you before bringing you to the living room to cuddle and just watch the whole day. Occasionally, food will come and it was all from your favourite restaurants.

After the next 5th Disney movie ended, you told Lucas that you wanted to take a shower and he told you that you can borrow any of his clothes. He even said that he'll run you a bath but you told him that you were just going to take a light shower which Lucas didn't mind. Whilst you were showering, Lucas prepared a T-shirt and shorts along with the hoodie you were just wearing.

After your shower and putting on the clothes Lucas prepared, Lucas came and redid the medicine on your wounds before going back to watching some heart-warming movies on the bed. Feeling better, you decided to tell Lucas what happened and whilst it seemed that he was calm, his mind was off wondering the endless possibilities of teaching the two that harm you; whether it'd be physically or mentally.

Either way, Lucas listened to all your rambles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, leaning you onto his chest, giving kisses on your forehead, cheeks and occasionally your neck, chuckling when he saw you flustered; basically making you 10x better, treating you like a queen up until you fell asleep.

When you did fall asleep, he gently tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead, smiling at your sleeping figure before leaving the room to the bar where he was more than ready to make the two-person harmed you suffer; not forgetting to ask Hendery and Yangyang to come over to watch over you.

"Sleep tight sweetheart. I'll be back before you know it, alright? No one treats my queen like trash and gets away with it" Lucas mumbled, kissing your forehead as he left as quietly as possible

and let's just say that everyone in the bar that night experienced a side of Lucas that no one would like to see or hear ever again.

"Try and lay a finger on her again, I won't be so nice next time" Lucas scoffed, seeing all the staff looked down, especially the two-person who hurt you

A/N: I hope that this was alright but yea, this fanfic has been stuck in my head for days

[tenmadontyouknow]

"You have a point. Snorlaxes do those two things too. And Komalas!" Tenma's eyes widen, as he just realized something. "You could've been a normal type specialist, dude! You pretty much fit the bill perfectly. But then again, dragons are such guys, I understand why you chose them. Heh."

He grabs a handful of chips, shoving them into his mouth. "Learn some etiquette, Tenma!" He looked up to see Crispin angrily staring him down. He paused. "Okay, fine. It's not like you're my dad or anything. I don't even have a dad. Or parents." He continued to eat his chips more slowly, ignoring the incredibly out-of-pocket remark he made.

He turned to Drayton. "Well, you're in for a story alright. Lemme just. Finish these," Tenma said, pointing to his chips. Once he finished, he began to speak again.

-

"So," he started, straightening his posture. "I was around six or seven years old when this happened. And I've probably already mentioned that my family's all fighting-type experts. Or, well. Not my family anymore." He paused. "So I went outside for a bit, right? Getting fresh air and all. I was always kept indoors for some reason, but I just wanted to go outside. It was nice. I didn't have any Pokemon or know better at the time, so I just walked into the tall grass alone and unsupervised. Totally safe," He joked. "And that's when I met Kyle. I was TINY at the time, so he was bigger than me by a lot. I've never seen a Dunsparce at the time, either, so he was the coolest Pokemon six-year-old me has ever seen. And he still is! But something was off."

He pulls up another photo of Kyle the Dunsparce, pointing at a small extra spike on his yellow tail. "You see that? That spike's an injury he got. I don't know how he got it, but I knew he was hurt. I brought around a lot of potions and bandages around, since my parents practially relied on me to heal their 'mons. So I put a bandage on the spike thingy and used a potion on him. I had to leave obviously, but someone was in the way. It, uh. Was my dad."

He fiddled with his gloves. He absolutely despised bringing up his father, or just his father in general, but unfortunately, he was a big part in the story Tenma loved to tell oh so many times. "Obviously, he was pissed," he continued. "Yelling at me for going outside without his permission, screaming that I could've gotten hurt, et cetera. No are-you-okay's, no I-was-worried-about-you's, just anger. I tried to explain that I was only helping the poor mon, but he didn't let me. He never did. I felt like I was gonna die, dude."

He was looking at the ground. This part of the story always stirred something up in him. Something bad. It's okay, though, because it'll get better soon. "He was gonna, um. Beat me up. He did that a lot. I always thought it was normal for that to happen. I thought it happened to everyone. Apparently not. But before he could really do anything incredibly scarring, both literally and metaphorically, someone came bursting through the door, and it was Kyle! Dunno how he found my house, but I didn't have time to worry about that. I had to get away from my dad, since he pretty much COLLAPSED ON THE FLOOR."

Tenma looked back up to his friends, feeling a bit better. "Kyle let me get on his back, and he was pretty fast for a Dunsparce, so I pretty much rode him around like a Tauros in Alola!" He was excitedly telling the story, remembering how it felt to have the wind in his hair for the first time. Nothing could compare to it, not even if he was flying around on his Braviary. "We were unstoppable! I pointed him where to go, and he made sure I was safe while we were making our way to Virbank. I told him to take me to Cris' house, and he did! I looked like a mess, so it was hard summarizing everything, haha. Thankfully, Cris' folks took me in, being his friend and all. So yeah. That's how I met Kyle."

Closed RP Starter with @the-drayster + @bbleague-crispin !!

The lax normal-type specialist casually, yet proudly walks into the league club room with Crispin excitedly following behind him, frying pan slung over his shoulder. "Hey, Drayton!" Tenma says while smiling and waving, as usual. "It's me, Tenma. Oh, and Crispin's here too. Cheesed to see ya." Tenma then proceeds to lean back in a chair, pulling at one of the strands of blue in his hair as Crispin runs up to Drayton, giving him a hug. "I brought David, too. As long as he's allowed, of course," he says before whispering something in Paldean and gesturing to a shiny Porygon that slowly enters the room.

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Thirty Three

Edelweiss

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader

previous | next | black canary

ATSUMU'S P.O.V.

After I wake up in the morning, I see Y/N's letter telling me that she'll be home as soon as possible. Though I'm not sure where she's gone, I don't bother calling her. So, I have a quiet breakfast alone and watch some television to pass the time. But when the sun starts to set, my stomach is in knots waiting for the door to open. I have a really bad feeling that something has happened to her, though I desperately hope that isn't true.

I then message Y/N, asking if she thinks she'll be home for dinner. I try not to sound like I'm too worried, but I need to make sure she's alright. However, after another hour, there's still no answer. With a sigh, I open my contacts in my phone and call Momoiro, hoping she might know where Y/N is.

"Hello?" she answers the phone, causing a sigh to fall from my lips.

"Momo, thank god you answered."

"Why? Is everything okay Tsumu?" she then asks nervously.

"No. Y/N left early this morning saying she'll be back as soon as possible, but she still hasn't returned or answered my text. Have you heard from her?" I respond hopefully.

"No," she tells me. "I haven't heard from her. And now that you mention it, I haven't heard from or seen Kana in awhile either. Maybe they're together?"

"Shit, I have no idea where she's gone..."

"Did you call Rhodes? She might've gone to the laundromat if something needed her attention down there. Maybe something with a customer and she's doing paperwork or something?" she tries to explain though it's all just speculation.

"I'm going to give him a call next. Thanks, Momo."

"You're welcome. Keep me updated if you hear anything. I'll call Aoi, too, and see if she knows," she then says before I hang up. After ending the call, I search for Rhodes' contact in my phone and call him.

"Yo, what's up, asshole?" he answers rather rudely.

"Is that really how you answer the phone?" I sigh.

"Like you answer it any differently," he huffs. "What do you need?"

"Have you seen Y/N today? She told me she was going out but she still hasn't come back and I'm getting worried," I explain to him.

"Ever think maybe she doesn't want to tell you where she is?" he scoffs.

"Rhodes, I'm being serious you fucking prick. Have you seen Y/N today? Yes or no?!" I begin to shout over the phone.

"No need to yell. How can I answer if you blow out my ear drum?"

"Have you fucking seen her?!"

"Yeah, I saw her. She came in this morning for something. I asked her to help me out. Then Daisho came and I left," he explains calmly.

"Daisho was there? Why?"

Rhodes then explains to me the locked door that the cops kicked down. He tells me about the attached club that Nohebi was in charge of and explains that's why you asked Daisho to come over.

"And what happened after Daisho explained all of that?" I continue to press, hoping he'll give me a better understanding of where Y/N went next.

"I dunno. I left. Y/N told me I could take the day off so I didn't stick around after that," he tells me.

"Dammit," I curse over the phone. "I've got to talk to him then. That damn asshole better not have done anything to her or I swear to god-"

"Aw," Rhodes hums on the other side of the phone, "you're gonna go save your brother's girlfriend? How nice of you."

With that, I hang up the phone. Rhodes helped, sure, but he's always such a dick about it and I don't have time to fight him right now. 

Since I don't have Daisho's phone number, I get in my car and drive over to his not-so-secret hideout. I bang on the door several times until Kuguri answers it.

"Outta my way, Kuguri," I huff as I push on his right arm and shove him out of the way. I let myself right in until I find the fallen Yakuza member sitting in a large chair facing me as though he expecting my arrival.

"What the fuck did you do with her?" I ask as I stand almost right in front of his face.

"You mean Y/N?" he smirks. "I didn't kill her if that's what you're thinking."

"That isn't what I asked," I shout back. "Where the fuck is she?"

Without waiting for an answer, I pull out the pistol I had tucked into my waist. I thought Kuguri would at least attempt patting me down and honestly, it threw me off a bit when he didn't, but it isn't time to dwell on it now. I could kill Daisho right here if I wanted to, but then I wouldn't get my answer out of him.

"If you kill me," he says as though practically reading my mind, "you'll never find her."

"So you admit it?" I scoff. "Where is Y/N, you freak!? You know if she turns up dead the rest of the syndicate will come after you."

Daisho's smile drops, but that doesn't mean he's ready to give in so easily. "Then why the fuck should I tell you? All I have to do is make sure she doesn't turn up at all and I've already made sure of that."

"Fine with me," I shrug. Kuguri is still standing nearby, anyway, so instead of firing my gun at Daisho, I backhand the grip right at his face. I then fire a warning shot straight into Kuguri's thigh. As he clutches his leg and drops to his knees, I beat the crap out of him until he lies helplessly on the ground. 

"She's being shipped out," Kuguri mutters as he protects his head from my foot. "Don't kill me, please, Daisho."

Surprised that he said Daisho's name instead of mine, I stand up and turn back to Daisho.

"Thanks," I tell him. It's my turn to smile now. "I'd kill him if I were you. Can't let information like that fall into the wrong hands now, can we?"

previous | next | black canary

want to join the taglist? Click here for more

Taglist: @isentsworld @allie-mcginn

[rogue-durin-16]

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

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

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

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

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

[hawksugarbaby]

Todoroki x male reader- Caramel and Honey

Fluff + Au where todoroki rebelled and never became a hero 

Todoroki hummed to himself laying out the ingredients in front of him with his mixing bowl in the centre of the counter top, the mix of ingredients in organised lines from first to last except he was missing one ingredient.

It was soon to be your birthday, and todoroki being the gentleman as always was desperate to make you a cake as his local supplier. You deserved it for the kind smile you wore dropping of his orders at the back of the shop and hovering around for a few minutes to talk before disappearing into the wind again driving away in your van with (y/ln) Produce, stamped on the side of the van in big, black cursive.

He took over the shop from his mothers side of the family before she fell ill and had to go to hospital. not wanting anything to do with his disgusting father he chose to stay and manage the store of light pinks and pure whites. He heard your tires pulling up outside on the gravelly path and he opened the door for you to drop off your produce inside on the counters by the door.

"Hey Roki! How's it hanging, making anything special today?" you asked hauling a crate of freshly picked fruit for the season in and dropping it onto the steel top, wiggling under the weight and scooting forward a millimeter. "What do you consider special?" he asked bluntly helping you carry the boxes into the kitchen and put the items in their respective places.

Finally you brought in the cardboard box layered in bubble wrap filled with decorative jars of golden honey pockets of air suspended in the viscous liquid and Todoroki nodded happily in receiving everything he asked for. Sometimes you'd forget the blueberries, or the tea leaves or the bananas grown specially by your quirk. You grabbed a glass of honey flicking the lid open and dipped your finger into the glossy amber tasting it yourself.

"Something special? I would love a rustic honey cake. Just the way mum used to make it with our honey. Not the dumb store bought stuff, the stuff we make ourselves. With the bee's we lovingly care for, for a reason!" you shout but it was muffled by you sucking the honey off of your finger.

Todoroki wiped his chin and cleared his throat "you've got some... there's uh... like a little" you looked up at him and touched your chin the sticky threads of honey clinging to your hand. "Shit" you tutted and wiped it away with the heel of your hand getting that just as sticky as the rest of you. "Well this is embarrassing" you sighed and todoroki exhaled quickly, which was close enough to a laugh to make you smile. "Here" he ran a tea towel under the warm tap and wiped it over your chin and pressed it into your hand for you to clean your hands yourself.

He felt his own face light up red and grabbed a cup of blueberries in preparation for the blueberry muffins he would bake today and you blinked a few time's rebooting your brain after the short interaction making you flustered.

You wiped your hands down and neatly folded the towel over the side of the sink and shook your head clearing the busy, buzzing thoughts from your head and drew your eye's away from him focusing on the calendar hanging next to the wall. Delivery, nothing, delivery, nothing, delivery + (y/n) Birthday. You grinned and pointed to the red circle around the familiar number on the calendar and twisted your neck to watch him stir ingredients together into a pale yellow batter.

"You remember my birthday?" you quizzed and he nodded furiously beating the whisked eggs into the mixture and poured in the cup of indigo berries fresh from the bush. "Hey are you busy right now?" Todoroki asked moving on from the topic of your birthday and lifted his eyes from your strong arms he'd seen carry so many boxes of fruit, to your joy filled (e/c) orbs sparkling happily at the prospect of him. HIM. remembering your birthday.

"I can be not busy?" you raise your palms to the popcorn roof and flick out your phone calling a coworker. "Hey Bro, could you perchance come get the van from the Todoroki Bakery and deliver the rest of the products?" you ask and pushed the phone to your ear with your shoulder and mouthed 'frozen fruit' to todoroki and you quirked an eyebrow. He nodded to the bottom drawer.

"No I dropped a crate on my foot carrying the peaches into the shop and It hurts to walk on it I dunno how driving would go" you chuckle nervously and wink to todoroki who just looked back down at his muffins filling the white, paper cases not quite understanding. "No, I know it's so unlike me! But it's okay, Todoroki said he'd give me a lift home but can you just do the rest of the rounds?"

Your brother agreed and you said your bye's on the phone. "I now have the entire day off" you said proudly and leaned your elbows on the counter admiring todoroki's fluffy hair straying further from the style it was originally in while he pushed the baking tray into the oven. "Wait but I should check your foot if you hurt it" he said crouching down and pressing his cold hands against your ankle making you flinch "no I didn't really hurt my foot I just needed to get out of work" you chuckle.

"Oh okay. Will your dad believe that, aren't you supposed to be the big strong son?" Todoroki craned his neck up to look at you still resting with one knee on the floor and the other pulled up like he was going to propose. You lost yourself in your thoughts again imagining that instead of his hand on your foot he was holding out a small grey box with a gleaming band tucked into the cushion.

"Hey what the fuck is this?" your brother laughed at the scene in the kitchen and you whipped your head up to see him leaning against the door frame uncaringly. "Uhh todoroki was checking if my foot was swollen or anything. No evidence of broken bones yet! So you should just get going with the van here are my keys!!" you said hopping over like a professional actor and shoved the keys into his hand. "Mhm i'm sure that's what it was. OUTSIDE!" he shouted at you pulling you round the corner clipping your arm on the wooden pallets leaning against the wall out back scraping up inside your elbow.

"Hey what the hell, that hurt!" you shouted lightly tapping the bleeding scratched that didn't seem to want to stop bleeding. "Look I know you like that todoroki kid but you can't just skip work to spend the day with him!" your brother turned around and looked at your face, mouth agape and eye's furrowed into annoyance and he shrugged "what i'm just being hon-" "ARE YOU BLIND OR STUPID!?" you shouted back thrusting your profusely bleeding forearm in his face.

"Oh shit what! are you feeling okay?" he panicked suddenly drawing Todoroki's attention and he poked his head out the back door. Being the observant boy he was, his eyes went wide and he jogged over to where you were standing and wiped the blood away with the already honey covered tea towel but the crimson immediately started pouring out again. "He needs an ambulance" the dual haired baker tightly wrapped the tea towel around your arm which was quickly soaked in red.

You moaned in pain and annoyance feeling your head spin. "What could he have cut his arm on?" your brother asked and you held your hand out in front of his face snapping your fingers closed against your thumb shutting him up. "There's a huge fucking rusty nail... on the pallet you dragged me past you dickhead" you huffed. The ground span and swayed around you and the brightness in your vision was turned down so you could barely see the outlines of the boys surrounding you.

And then you were on the floor.

And then you were in the hospital. Staring at the white plaster ceiling at midnight with no one by your side. "Huh" you hummed and checked your phone hissing at the brightness lashing the dark hospital room.

todoroki was in the shop with a bowl and cake pan next to him. The jar of honey you scooped from open and his phone laying open waiting for your answer to his text.

You replied to the questions he asked and Todoroki's phone buzzed on the steel countertop and he perked up immediately reaching for the electronic, slowly running out of battery.

Roki 💖🍰

Hey are you okay?

Fri 12:18

Do you like pistachios?

Oh also raisins, do you like raisins?

Probably not, no one likes raisins

I like raisins...

Anyway. Text me when you see this

Fri 18:35

Roki 💖🍰

I hope you wake up.

I wasn't supposed to get a delivery from you today

But I wish I was cause I like seeing you

You make my heart feel... weird.

Good weird

Sat 8:44

Still don't know if you like raisins and pistachios

Sat 12:27

Roki 💖🍰

It's your birthday tomorrow you know.

Sorry I didn't text yesterday but you were sleeping anyway

How can you catch tetanus so quickly

It's supposed to take 4 days dumbass.

You got it in like 1. You fainted because of the blood btw

Mon 13:21

Please just wake up for your birthday.

I have something special for you

But I need to know if you like pistachios and raisins

Mon 14:56

Roki 💖🍰

Happy Birthday (y/n)

Tue 00:00

You chuckled to yourself at the sweet messages todoroki sent you over the course of the days and glanced at the clock. "I wonder if he's still awake" you croaked and wiped your eyes from sleep then yawned filling your waterline with unnecessary tears.

Bumblebee 🍯

Hey Roki. I'm up

I like/don't like pistachios

And I like/don't like raisins

Sorry for worrying you. Promise I won't get anymore tetanus

I'm going back to sleep

Come visit tomorrow

today*

Sent

Tue 4:13

"You better not be awake dumbass" you mumbled and turned over on your pillow burying your face into the uncomfortable pancake for your head.

Seen

Tue 4:15

The baker smiled and finally started working on his surprise for you chopping his toppings and thinly slicing/ throwing away his toasted pistachios and crunching on a few raisins while working.

At 2pm he walked in and went to visit you with his surprise balancing carefully in your hand. He carefully tiptoed to your bedside and pushed your side slightly. You snorted and rolled over, opening your eye's to an amused todoroki settling himself into the chair next to your bed. "Something smells great" you muttered pushing your face back into the pillow and smiling. "Thank you for visiting" you muffled and todoroki chuckled nodding.

"Happy birthday" he smiled pulling the foil off of the top of your surprise. You peaked your eyes open and sat up smiling brightly. "I didn't know how your mum made it but I made my own recipe" he scratched the back of his head and moved to sit next to you on the mattress. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek lightly before you could take off the handheld slice you were slowly lifting to your mouth.

"My heart feels weird around you" he sighed and thumped his forehead against your shoulder and you snickered, taking a soft bite of the sticky, nostalgic cake in your grasp. "I know. Thank you for the little updates by the way, very sweet of you" you emphasised the sweet as a pun on the honey cake but of course, it flew over todoroki's head. "But yeah. Thank you for the cake it's delicious" you complimented and leaned your head on his. "Can I go back to sleep now?" you joked and he smiled and pressed you down by your hard chest and lay on top of you. "Just don't sleep for 4 days again" he mumbled nestling into your t'shirt.

You stared down at the parting in his hair with huge, round eye's and put your hands on his back, grasping them together in a hug-ish type thing. "Okay"

[enviedear]

secrets that you keep → peter parker

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in a consolation trip back to europe, the kids of midtown high are eager to have a normal vacation, finally. but you on the other hand are on a mission. something weird is going on with peter parker, and you’re going to figure it out.

PAIRING ⌙ peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.4k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“-smaller group than before, but we’ll still have fun guys. the tour company has made precautions for you kids. there will not be a repeat of last year.” mr. harrington babbles.

you sink lower into the bus seat. you did not want to be back in europe. truthfully you want to be anywhere but here. wherever, here, was. no one knew. cell service went out about five miles back and the bus driver didn’t speak english. 

“yeah guys, don’t worry. this trip is going to be ten times worse than the last. it’s already started bad since we don't know where we ARE!” flash yells, running a hand down his face.

mr. harrington tries to calm him and the rest of the bus down, to no avail.

you block out the commotion and stare out of the bus window. grass, farm, cattle, shack, more grass, more farm. and not one single cell tower in sight. this is it, you think, this is how it ends, stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying people you’ve ever known.

“guys, GUYS! my service is back,” betty yelps. “it says we’re in wiveliscombe, and that it’s going to be three hours until we reach london.”

her words are met with groans.

“at least we have cell service now.” jokes peter parker, who’s sat in the seat across the aisle from you. he’s cute and nice, but weird. last year’s trip he had about a thousand excuses as to why he’d leave the group and if it happened this year, you were gonna figure out why. no matter what it took.

“mhm, and since we have access to the endless possibilities of the internet again, we don’t have to talk..” you huff.

“i.. sorry. i didn’t-” you cut him off by placing your earbuds back into your ears and turning the volume up. 

something about peter irked your nerves in a way you couldn’t understand. maybe it was the way he knew fucking everything. maybe it was the way his body became incomprehensibly fit in such a short period of time. you really couldn’t understand that. even went as far as to do research on steroids, but found there was no way he could be using those. most probably it was the nonsense of his idiotic excuses. he might be able to fool everyone else, but not you. you knew there had to be something going on.

he and his stupid cute little brown curls, button nose, and six pack were under your firm watch.

by the time the bus reached the hotel the sun was beginning to set. jet lagged and in need of a long shower, you’re one of the first to fly into the hotel.

“It's me and you for the next week.” mj smiles, holding out a room key for you. truthfully, you really liked mj. she was cool and liked a lot of the same things as you. but she had one fatal flaw in your eyes, she used to date peter parker.

it was a short lived relationship, almost everyone saw it as a fling. peter and mj were just… too different. but they remain close friends.

it’s not like you were jealous... just, a tad bit jealous. besides, that ship had sailed and your goal wasn’t to end up like mj on the last trip to europe. no, you had other plans.

“cool. we can watch murder mysteries tonight and grab some snack from the convenience store down the street.” you grin.

the rooming situation for everyone else took entirely too long. it started with flash being upset that his room requirements weren’t being met. he wanted nothing to do with a roommate. this, caused his previous roommate, zander, to object to rooming with someone so, ‘coddled’.

took a full twenty minutes to resolve the issue. 

“mj, you still wanna visit the national gallery tomorrow?” asks the one and only peter parker.

“uh, yeah. y/n, wanna join?” she questions.

you were ready to object, finding it far more intriguing to stay in and sleep but then you remembered your little mission. if you wanted to figure out what peter parker’s deal was, you’d have to be around him. 

“sure. nothing better to do.” you shrug, peering straight into peter’s eyes. 

“i, uh- i thought we’d get an early start to the day. ned wants to go on the jack the ripper tour, so that gives us until one to look through the museum.” peter rambles.

“alright, me and y/n will meet you two down here around ten thirty.” mj clarifies.

“see you then. night mj,” he looks to you. “goodnight y/n.”

you narrow your eyes at him, “sleep tight parker. busy day tomorrow.”

with that you and mj enter your room, ready to sleep off the jet lag. and soon enough, sleep carries you into her open arms, preparing you for the day ahead.

the next morning consists of peter and ned rushing in and out of their room. the duo forgetting nearly everything they needed for the day. it was extremely annoying. but you’d take watching the two ninnies scramble about over this tour you’re forcing yourself to get through right now.

the national gallery was proving to be a bore. maybe it was you. or maybe it was the dull ass tour guide. either way, you’re finding it hard to focus on any of these artworks around you.

“this is the arnolfini portrait. it’s the work of jan van eyck and it is believed to depict an italian merchant named giovanni di nicolao arnolfini. this painting has remained in the national gallery since 1843.” the tour guide drones.

you peer up at the art, searching for anything to interest you about it. you try to focus of the dark green of the woman’s dress, then the small dog, but nothing about this art is appealing to you. instead, you find the whispered conversation going on behind you to be much more intriguing.

“ned how am i going to make it all the way to japan and back here before the ripper tour?” peter grumbles.

japan?

“i don’t know, but i really don’t want to go on a tour of the most infamous and creepy serial killers of all time without my best friend.” ned whispers.

“but mj will be there, and.. y/n.” peter assures.

“great. they both creep me out. that’s like, two extra loads of creepy added onto the already creepy tour.” ned huffs.

“dude, i have to go… mr. stark is waiting on me.” peter pleads.

you hear ned give an annoyed, “fine.”

you wait a few seconds before turning around to face peter’s friend.

“where did peter run off to?” you ask, as innocently as you can.

“uhhhh- the bathroom. the uh, hotel bathroom. yeah, must have been those tomatoes he ate with his breakfast today.” ned gulps.

“mhm. well i think i’ll meet up with him. he shouldn’t walk all the way back alone.” you smirk, shoving past ned and running the direction peter went.

it took a good minute to find him outside, the boy running into a bakery. but once your eyes find him, you rush straight in, right behind him. eyes narrowed and full of questions. 

the brown haired boy quickly enters a bathroom and you grin. 

no escaping now, parker.

you wait outside the bathroom eagerly. only for minutes to pass. no sound escapes the room and you furrow your brows.

you knock on the door, no answer. annoyed you open the door, only to be met with an empty bathroom. 

an empty bathroom with an opened window.

what the fuck?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“we’ve been upgraded!” mr. harrington gleams, looking down at our tired faces.

“last time we were upgraded we almost died.” betty sighs.

“ah- what did i say, we’re not going to repeat last year,” harrington retorts. “now...how do you guys feel about paris?”

well those words certainly livened up the breakfast table. train tickets are soon passed around, and you study yours, spoonful of yogurt still in your mouth.

“hey y/n, mj and i are gonna go to the louvre when we get there,” ned grins. “wanna come with?”

you chuckle, “another museum? nah, i’m good.”

mj quirks a brow at you, “this museum is home to the mona lisa. it’s not just any museum.”

“and the mona lisa is not just any painting… it’s an ugly one.” you huff.

ned guffaws at you.

“honestly, i might skip out too.” peter says.

you turn to face him, “great. you and i can explore paris while mj and ned explore another museum.”

he shifts in his seat, “i dunno i was thinking of-”

mj cuts him off, “i think that’s a great idea y/n. don’t you, peter? you remember what harrington said.. no repeat of last year.”

her eyes are cold as she awaits his answer and he fidgets more in his seat.

“i just think it might be best for me to stay here… ya know in case mr. stark needs anything.”

you roll your eyes, “dude, you’re just an intern. what could he possibly need that his other ten thousand interns can’t do.”

“technically he only has like six other… interns.” peter mumbles.

“but uh.. they can handle whatever mr. stark needs from you. i mean they’ve been av- uh, interns, for a while.” ned says, eyes pleading with his friend.

peter sighs before smiling at you, “alright, me and you versus paris.”

no peter parker, me and myself versus your dirty little secret.

somehow you got to sit next to peter in an empty train car for the ride to paris. and holy shit.. could he talk.

his eyes did have a way of lighting a fire inside you as he talked but, that, was not the point.

it was between an empty car with peter or full car sat between flash and harrington.

peter is always better than the latter.

“-anyways, how’d you convince your parents to let you go back to europe?” he asks.

“i didn’t. they made me.” you say simply.

peter slumps into his seat a little, “uh, why?”

“because when they were younger they traveled the world. i dunno, i guess they expect me to want to as well.” 

“oh. well, are you enjoying it so far.” he asks.

i’d enjoy it more if i could figure out your damned secret, parker.

“sure.”

and then, finally, peter is quiet. 

but not for long, as the train comes to a screeching halt.

over the train speakers comes a booming voice, “veuillez rester calme. le train s'est arrêté en raison d'un dysfonctionnement du moteur.”

your body tenses and you look at peter, “please tell me you understand french?”

“a little.. i dont think we need to worry. they said it’s just an engine malfunction.” he nods, looking around the train car.

you try to breathe. 

everything is okay. there’s no evil robots coming to destroy a train car with two innocent teenagers. that’s so pre civil war. just breathe. 

suddenly a loud bang is heard from the car behind you. not just any bang… a gunshot.

“holy shit.” you whisper, stiff as a board.

peter on the other hand is rummaging through his bag.

“parker! what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss.

“i.. just trust me okay? when i tell you to run… run.”

you look at him with a scowl, “i’m not going to be the sacrificial pig for slaughter, asswipe.”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m going to run with you. we’re going to find an empty car and then… wait for spiderman.” 

you blink. the kid’s gone insane.

“peter. listen, i know coping with your own inevitable death can be hard but, spiderman.. really?” you groan.

another loud bang comes from the car behind you. 

peter looks at you, taking your hand in his. 

the door to your car bursts open.

“run!” peter yelps, rushing into the next car, the gunmen not far enough behind.

“holy shit i’m gonna die.” you scream.

peter throws something at the gunmen when the two of you enter the next car, separating the two of you from the monsters.

but the kid didn’t throw just anything at them. motherfucker threw a damn door. a metal train door.

by the time you process the information, peter is pulling you into a cramped bathroom.

“i don’t have much time but basically, hi, i’m spiderman. those guys back there are people tony stark pissed off really bad and i need you to hide in here until i fix this issue.”

with that he pulls his jacket off revealing the spiderman suit you’re so used to seeing on the news.

“that’s your secret? this entire time i’ve been hanging around you trying to figure it out, and it turns out you’re spiderman. i would have thought anything before fucking spiderman.” you dwell, eyes wide.

he slips his mask on, “wait, you only hung out with me because you thought i had a secret? i mean.. i did but-”

another loud bang interrupts him, “nevermind. we’ll talk about this later. stay here and don’t tell anyone what i just told you.”

you nod, and watch him exit the bathroom.

so much for “not a repeat of last time.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“at least it wasn’t witches this time.” mr. dell sighs.

your entire fourth period groans. 

“what! our world is infested with witches now. i don’t even know why i’m teaching science. i’m gonna turn around one day and suddenly i’ll be teaching witchcraft.”

your eyes return back to your desk, staring a hole into the old wood. your trance is broken by a crumpled piece of paper. you roll your eyes and turn your attention to peter, who after europe has been watching you like a hawk.

you open the paper to see, ‘listen, mr. stark said i need to get written evidence that you won’t spill the beans. please sign below.’

you grimace but sign at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to your new ninny friend.

that’s right. friend. despite being one of the most annoying people on the planet, with the weirdest secret ever.. peter was nice. he was really nice. he liked almost everything you did and listened intently to whatever you had to say.

“earth to y/n.” his voice calls from beside you.

“oh? is class over?” you ask.

he nods and holds his arm out to you. you take it and give him a half smile.

you may find peter parker to be the weirdest dude ever, but you can’t deny that the secret superhero is starting to flood your mind. you never thought you’d be the one to say it, but peter parker is the coolest weirdo you’ve ever met.

and besides, your mission was a success. you figured out his secret and obtained a friend along with it.

well, friend, until you could complete your newest mission.

telling him you like him. like, a lot.

[nah-she-didnt]

Erm.... hi.... I don't think this was on the prompt list that you posted recently, but it's a prompt I've seen somewhere else on Tumblr: for Wolfstar, could you do "I love you no matter what your brain tells you."? It's totally 100% okay if not ofc, no pressure <3

Hello! Sorry this took a bit, inspiration struck, but free time did not. I altered your prompt a tiiiny bit to make it a cleaner fit for my idea.

Also, while I LOVE my jily-centric followers so much, if any wolfstar blogs out there wanted to reblog this I would love to get into that space more since I do write a fair number of remus/sirius fics!

Enjoy! Once again, I did not proof read this thoroughly, so I apologize for any obvious typos!

--

“I Love You No Matter What Your Head Tells You”

Remus was utterly exhausted.

His first night as a prefect had not gone smoothly. One particularly thick first year had managed to get himself lost on the way to the Gryffindor common room, a feat that Remus previously thought was impossible considering that the prefects always led the first years to the dorm in one large group. However, Matthew McMorris claimed he’d been so distracted by a painting of medieval witches on the third floor that he’d looked up to find his group nowhere to be found. And so, it fell to Remus to retrieve him. Thank god for the map.

Remus turned to shoot McMorris a stern look as they climbed through the portrait hole. “Right, straight upstairs with you. You’ll be grateful for a full eight hours of sleep before your first lesson tomorrow, trust me.” The boy scowled at him before scampering away to the boy’s staircase. 

Remus yawned and stretched dramatically as he glanced around the room. Most of the students had already gone to bed, but James, Peter, and Dorcas sat together on the couch in front of the fire. 

“Alright?” James asked absentmindedly as he studied his hand of Exploding Snap cards. Peter held his hand upside down as if hoping that a new perspective would allow inspiration to strike. 

“Fantastic,” Remus muttered as he dropped into the seat next to Dorcas, “who’s winning?” 

“Who do you think,” Peter grumbled as he watched James play a particularly good hand, “how do you manage to rope me into this stupid game every time?” 

James shrugged. “I guess you’re a glutton for punishment.” 

The boys continued to bicker. Dorcas nudged Remus with her elbow. “Do you know what’s up with Black tonight?” 

Remus didn’t meet her gaze. He knew that Sirius had been in a particularly bad mood on the Hogwarts Express. The mood must have been the result of an entire summer spent cooped up in Grimmauld Place. “What do you mean?”

“The berk snapped at me earlier!” Dorcas scoffed, “I asked him how his summer was and said ‘mind your own fucking business.’ Very uncool.” 

“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly as he glanced towards the boys’ staircase, “extremely uncool.” 

“Don’t even think about going up there, Moony,” James called over his shoulder, “he’s not in the mood. We’re giving him some space before we go up.” 

Remus frowned at James. “You mean you’re just leaving him up there, alone? After the summer he’s had?”

James shrugged again. “He said he wanted to be alone. I wasn’t about to argue.” 

Remus shook his head and stood. “Well, I’m going to check on him.” 

“Godspeed, mate,” Peter called at his retreating back. 

Remus marched towards their dormitory determinedly, but lost confidence with each step up the spiral stairs. Sirius could be wildly unpleasant when he was in one of his moods, and he’d already had a stressful night of rounding up wild first years. Nevertheless, Remus couldn’t bear to think of him up there all alone. Perhaps when Sirius said he wanted space from his friends, he didn’t mean Remus himself. Maybe Sirius would be glad to see him. 

Remus paused with his knuckles inches from the door. One last chance to turn back, he thought to himself. After a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his worries aside and rapped loudly on the door. 

A loud hmph greeted his knock. Remus took this as an indication that he was allowed to enter. 

Sirius was sprawled out on his four-poster bed, still fully clothed. He stared up at the ceiling as he tossed an old quaffle up into the air only to catch it at his chest again and again. He didn’t look around as Remus sidled into the room.

“Um, hi,” Remus offered awkwardly, “did you have a good time at the feast?”

Sirius grunted again.

“Oh. Well, good,” he waited for Sirius to say something back, but he seemed fixated on throwing and catching that damn quaffle. 

At least a minute of silence passed. Remus felt himself sweating slightly. He glanced around the room, desperate for something to talk about. The silence was oppressive. If he didn’t say something soon, he would explode faster than Peter’s cards.

In his desperation, Remus felt himself ask the worst possible question. “Did you have a good summer?” 

Sirius caught the quaffle one last time, then hugged it to his chest. Remus could have smacked himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I just meant- we don’t have to talk about your summer, let’s talk about something-” 

“No,” Sirius said softly, still gazing at the ceiling, “it’s alright. My summer was shit, thank you for asking.” 

There wasn’t a hint of irony or anger in his tone. It was a simple truth. His summer had been pure, total shit. 

“I’m sorry,” Remus mumbled to his shoes. 

He heard Sirius scoff. “Not your fault.” 

Another moment of silence followed this pronouncement. However, this silence wasn’t like the one before. Sirius seemed to be thinking long and hard about what he had just said, completely lost in his own thoughts. It was as if he’d forgotten that Remus was in the room. 

Finally, he spoke again.

“They’ve gone absolutely mental,” he nearly whispered, “mental. You know they’re full-on blood purists now, right?” 

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Sirius’ parents had become more and more radicalized over the years, but Sirius had rarely opened up about their beliefs, and Remus never asked.

“They think I’m the ultimate blood traitor. Worse than a blood traitor, actually. A ‘lazy, ungrateful, sorry excuse for a son.’ That was what she called me last night when I told her I didn’t want to come home for the holidays. Ungrateful because I don’t want to end up a hateful, spiteful hag like her.” 

Sirius grew more agitated with every passing word. Remus could see his knuckles growing white as he gripped the quaffle fiercely into himself.

“And the really fucked up part is that they clearly love Reg more. And I get it, right? I can see why they love him so much because he kisses their arses. I know he loves me and all, but he cares more about what they think than about supporting me. That’s the worst fucking part.” 

Sirius brought his hand to his face under the pretense of scratching his nose, but Remus knew that he was wiping a tear on the cuff of his shirt. 

“I just can’t get them out of my head,” he sighed, “stupid, useless, blood traitor. Unworthy of love. And all the rest. It’s like there’s a record in my head that plays over and over again, and I can’t turn it off. It’s hell.” 

Remus felt completely frozen. He had absolutely no idea what to say to any of this. All the responses that ran through his head felt tired and unhelpful. Sirius did not need someone to lie to him and tell him that his parents really cared for him, deep down. He didn’t need someone to tell him that it would all be alright in the end, that everything would work itself out.

The only thing he could think to say tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. 

“Well, I love you no matter what your head tells you.” 

Sirius’ head snapped up. He looked Remus in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. A beat passed between them, a moment that allowed Remus to realize what he’d just said. He felt his cheeks burn with panic. 

“We! We love you, me and James and...and Peter,” Remus finished weakly. Excellent. There was nothing unreasonable about expressing the familial love shared between four boys who were like brothers, right? 

Sirius blinked at him, then nodded slowly. He looked as if he were trying to solve a particularly complicated arithmancy equation in his head. “Right. Thanks, Moony.” 

Remus let out a breath. He started to back up towards the door to the dormitory. “Well, I’ll leave you alone again. Or, I dunno, do you want to come downstairs? Pete’s about ready to blow James’ head off if he wins at Exploding Snap again.” 

Sirius still looked preoccupied as he eyed Remus. Finally, he lifted his gaze back up to the underside of his four-poster. 

“Nah,” he grunted as he threw the quaffle into the air again, “you go. I’m not in the mood.” 

Remus nodded, then turned to leave. Just before he could shut the door behind him, Sirius called, “Moony?” 

Remus nearly tripped over himself as he hurried back through the door. “Yeah, Pads?” 

Sirius grinned his lopsided grin. The one that made Remus’ head go fuzzy. “Thanks again. I love you too.”  

Remus smiled back, then closed the door. He hardly noticed the way he pounded down the cold stone steps back into the common room, as he was too busy walking on air.

[rosy-cheekx]

“You’re such a dork.” for the emotional writing prompts! I don't know anything about critical role, really, so for TMA :)

I spy, with my little eye, Bryce’s attempts to shove her own interests into her fics. Anyways, I am an American in college so I was basing this on my own experiences oops. Enjoy!

Date night was Wednesday evenings. Jon and Martin both found it preferable for a variety of reasons; it was the most likely nights for happy hours at the pubs in town, guaranteeing a cheap drink, and keeping to a weekday night minimized the chance of Jon seeing one of his students out. He hated seeing his students. Not that he hated them of course, he really rather liked them…not that they would ever know that. Being a professor, of parapsychology of all things, was rather rewarding. He knew the content inside and out (it felt good, using the mark of The Eye to actively work against it, to pass along information instead of consuming). And they didn’t seem to mind him either.

That was the thing about university students. They really didn’t care about who he was or where he came from. The fact that he was a scrawny, scarred Englishman in a lecture hall in Scotland didn’t matter to them. In the classroom, all they cared was whether he taught the material well (he did) and was kind to those with late assignments (he was. He had been a university student once too; he remembered the anxiety and depression that took him and his mates in waves). He was a good professor; Jon knew that objectively in the marks his students received. But in the subjective? His student had decided they liked him.

This had dawned on him at the end of his first semester; when he was inundated with emails of sincere thank-you for a great semester, for being such a helpful teacher, for taking the time to help review, et cetera. Martin had grinned at him, poking a tongue out his mouth and making some remark about teacher’s pets coming full circle (Jon was never a teacher’s pet though. He had always asked too many questions. He welcomed those questions with open arms now, to be the teacher he hadn’t had.)

The next semester it had been more obvious that students liked him now that he knew where to look. It was in the open “good-mornings” and questions about his weekend plans, and in the fact that he had the best attendance records of his department. It was in the way they asked genuine questions about his material and the waitlists miles long to get into his sections. Later on, it was in the gentle ribbings about his looking tired and the grey hairs even as they celebrated his fortieth birthday with him, bringing in cupcakes and sneaking in between lectures to decorate his office and the sincere questions over his scars, his life, his relationship with Martin (his introductory lecture always featured Martin and Her Regency, their thick orange tabby). To make eight wonderful semesters short, he was familiar with his students, and they weren’t afraid to be familiar back. Which was wonderful in the classroom and all, but not when he was trying have a relaxing evening with his husband.

Which brings them back to Wednesdays. Wednesdays were the days least likely to have students out in town, he had learned from Dr. Kerrigan, the positive psych professor, because Thirsty Thursdays started off the weekend’s partying and drinking for the undergraduates. Wednesday was the day students, in theory, buckled down to finish homework and give themselves a free weekend.

So here they were, Martin in a collared shirt, printed with tiny flowers, and jeans, hair bleached white from the Lonely and curling softly at his temples; Jon in a slouchy ribbed turtleneck and high-waisted pants, his own thick curls half-piled atop his head. Jon was listening intently as Martin spoke animatedly, talking about his own day as a guidance counselor at the local primary school.

“…and I swear Jon, if it wasn’t bad enough that Kimmy has decided never to speak to Lawrence again, now Lawrence has confided in me that he is positively in love with her.”

“Did he say that verbatim? In love, I mean.”

“I mean, no, but he said he was willing to give her all his Squishmallows for a playdate. Squishmallows. That’s real eight-year-old commitment, right there.”

Jon barked out a laugh and put on a puppy-eyed expression, grinning all the while. “Martin Blackwood, do you hereby take Jonathan Sim’s stuffed animals, to have and to ho-”

A gentle swat to the knee with Martin’s shoe cut Jon off. “Oi! Respect my children. They may be fools but its not their faults their brains aren’t developed yet. And yes, I know, ‘they’re not developed ‘til twenty-five and you can argue that your students’ brains aren’t developed either.’ But it’s different. They’re babies.”

“And I’m the All-Knowing One,” Jon mused thoughtfully around a forkful of food, earning him another love-filled kick.

“Speaking of,” Martin pointed to Jon with his glass, eyeing him deliberately. “Midterms next week, yeah? How do you think it’ll go?”

Jon shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “Alright, I hope. First exam went well but could’ve been better. I’m worried about Avonni, honestly, he’s nodded off a few times in class and I’m not confident he has someone to get the material from.”

“He has you.” A pointed, snow-white eyebrow.

“Right, but sometimes students don’t want to ask for notes because they think I’ll say no. Maybe I should email him. Speaking of email! Did I tell you what Suzanne sent out?”

“Oh no, what?”

They carried on like this through their meal and into dessert, and not for the first time Jon was struck by the sheer normalcy of it all. His greatest concerns were Suzanne’s passive-aggressive emails and his students, not the inevitable destruction of reality as they knew it to be. They were scarred, inside and out, everyone who had escaped The Magnus Institute was, but they were safe and free and happy. In defiance of everything that had happened to and because of them.

“Dr. Sims!”

Uh oh. Spoke too soon.

Bite of lava cake halfway to his mouth, Jon squeezed his eyes shut, rolling his eyes back in his head and willing there to be another professor with the surname Sims in the restaurant. When he opened his eyes, Martin was valiantly trying to suppress a smile as he eyed something, someone, over his head. Jon twisted awkwardly in his seat to see—

“Parker. What a surprise.” His voice was warm but carefully measured, and the dark-skinned boy waved, shit-eating grin on his face. “I have told you that you can call me Jon.”

“Yeah, I know, but you earned that doctorate! And “Doctor Jon” sounds awful, like you should have your own show or something.”

He hadn’t earned that doctorate, actually, but Martin’s expertise in lying and the disastrous apocalypse that had left everyone disoriented meant it had been easy to exaggerate some of Jon’s CV and manufacture a fake diploma.

“I do have my own show. Monday and Wednesday mornings, where I teach a bunch of caffeinated undergrads parapsychology,” Jon replied easily. “You’re welcome to tune in.” He liked Parker; he was a bit of a class clown, liked to ask off-topic questions or pretend to sneak a look at Jon’s answer sheets, but he was sharp and knew his stuff. Jon respected that. He reminded Jon of someone he dearly missed.

But Parker had already turned his attention to Martin, who was watching the interaction with mirth in his eyes. “Hello sir! I’m Parker McMichael, Jon’s favorite student.” Martin shook the extended hand and nodded in mock seriousness.

“Of course. Pleasure to finally meet you. Are you the one with the essay on ESP or the one on psychokinesis?”

“Neither,” Parker shook his head proudly, short dreads swaying gently with the movement. “The Validity and Continuity of Near-Death Experiences,” he made a mock marquee with his hands, arching curved fingers to indicate the title hanging in the air. “Researching any consistencies in near-death experiences stories, whether they’re legitimate, and what they mean if they are. But-” Parker shook his head and turned his attention back to Jon. “That’s not why I’m interrupting.” He took his phone out of pocket idly as he spoke. “I’m afraid I’ve come to settle a dispute among the 11 a.m. section.”

Oh no.

The Ceaseless Watcher whispered to him, unbidden, the dispute in question. Jon generally knew how to suppress the powers, and they were weaker than they had been, once upon a time, but when he’s caught off guard with the desire to know, to Know, it could still overtake him.

“This you?” A blurry screenshot of a Youtube video is shoved under his nose, a part of a text chain titled Sim’s Spoopy Spirits, captioned by many text bubbles expressing disbelief and objections and a variety of emojis. Jon took the phone and examined it, the truth already sure in his chest. Yes, that was him, dressed in his Jonny d’Ville costume, eyeliner streaked and eyes closed, mid-ballad. God, he wished he could be rid of those Youtube videos.

Jon’s gaping silence must have been enough of an answer for Parker because he whooped a little too loudly for the restaurant they were in and pumped his fist to his chest before typing very quickly on his phone. “I knew it! Take that Sabina,” he was mumbling to himself, lost in his texts for a moment.

Martin took the opportunity to clear his throat. “Sorry, uh, no one’s asked so I will. How did you know to look for him-us-here?” Jon frowned, He hadn’t thought about that.

“Oh, a couple of my mates work here and mentioned seeing Dr. Sims and his husband here a lot on Wednesdays and I dunno about you so much, but Dr. Sims is pretty habitual. Figured it was as good a guess as any. Some things can’t wait til Monday.”

“..an email. Parker. You could’ve sent me an email.” Fingers ran over scarred face, as if he could wipe the irritation (and Martin’s poorly-hidden laugh) from existence.

“But then I couldn’t do this.” His phone was back up again, level with his own face and he twisted so both his own and Jon’s faces were in the shot. “I’m here at 7:02 pm on Wednesday the 26, here to make a very important announcement,” Parker spoke to the camera with confidence. “Dr. Sims just confirmed to me that he is the one, the only, Jonny d’Ville.” Parker held the camera to Jon’s voice. “Anything to say to your adoring fans?”

Jon sighed and tugged on an errant curl. “Don’t forget, reading due Monday.” He wasn’t genuinely upset with Parker, just filled with fond embarrassment.

Parker sent the video off and clapped the back of Jon’s chair. “Well, Dr. D’Ville, its been a pleasure. Everyone’s really excited to get a confirmation on your status of coolest teacher. Any plans for the evening?”

Jon sighed through his lower lip, stray curls framing his scalp flying upward in the sudden burst of wind. “Watching a documentary and trying to forget—wait. What?”

“Oh yeah no, everyone thinks it’s badass. You’ve got a super nice voice and the stories you told were really interesting, if a little buckwild.”

Jon felt his cheeks flush and Martin grinned slyly at him from across the table. “Y-Yes. I guess we were rather good.”

Parker gave his farewells and Jon’s shoulders sagged (he had immediately righted his posture on seeing Parker, his grandmother’s voice in his ear reminding him of his manners), turning his full attention back to his husband. Martin had maintained that grin and was eyeing him intensely, like he expected Jon to say something.

“What, Martin?”

“God, you’re such a dork.” The words were soft, expression fond, and Jon could feel the radiation of unadulterated love Martin gave off in his smile, the one only ever used for Jon. “You really love your students, don’t you? You know how much they love you, right?”

Jon grumbled, but he couldn’t quite sweep the smile off his face either as their waiter made his way over with their check.

“No comment. But we are switching to Tuesday date nights.”

[mbcorvo-author]

I started this a few days ago but I cannot think of some plot to put behind it to continue this thing... so I guess that it'll remain a simple 2k words drabble lol

I don't even have a title for this! The file was named "guywhotalkedtotimetraveller" so I guess that it'll be the title for the time being?

Inspired by this prompt by @writing-prompt-s

(also I hope it's understandable enough, I'm trying to write directly in English instead of translating every time but English is not my language;;)

The guy who talked to the time traveller

"I'll be what now?" Thomas said, a puzzled expression on his face, staring at the man standing at the entrance of his cubicle. The man that looked like an FBI agent out from some spy movie huffed and rolled his eyes. "You'll be interrogating someone for us." "A-and why me?" Thomas asked "I... I'm just a mere pencil-pusher here, I'm not... like... okay, I'm a Government employee but- but I do not work for that- that kind of... department," he stuttered, nervous under the glare of the stranger, fixing the glasses on his nose. "I... I- you maybe... dunno got sent to the wrong building, maybe?" The FBI-like man moved a step inside the cubicle, staring down at the bumbling clerk sitting on an old desk wheelie desk chair. That guy was trying hard to not appear intimidated by him. And failing at that. He shoved the manila folder in the clerk's chest that jumped at the sudden movement and clumsily grabbed the folder with all the files inside it. "Then this is a promotion for you, congrats." he said in a flat tone "Now get up and follow me."

Thomas opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but he still didn't have the words, so he closed it again and got up from his chair, clutching the manila folder to his chest with his right hand The man in a dark suit huffed something under his breath, then stepped out from the office cubicle, followed by the nervous employee. He started walking down the large room towards the corridor that leads to the elevators.

They walked in silence, Thomas nervously stealing glances at the man escorting him. Only once closed in the elevators, the employee finally gathered enough courage to speak up. "Uh, so-" he started "From... you..." he mumbled, "You look like an FBI guy..." "I'm not." "Then...uh...what...? Who are you?" "Agent Bancroft, from the Bureau for Research and Assessment of Special Threats" "Oh." the employee fell in a silence that lasted for a long couple of minutes before he spoke again, "And what's that? Never heard of it." he asked, "Sounds like something coming out from... from dunno a- a comic book. Like the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence from Hellboy... or- or also the SHIELD from Marvel comics. Or!" he lifted his free hand "The Men in Black!"

The man pinched the root of his nose and took a deep breath. The higher-ups couldn't have possibly found someone more pathetic than this pencil-pusher even if they tried hard for aeons. He understood that they wanted someone low-profile, not important and easily replaceable, but this guy was too clueless and... well, surely didn't look like he was the right person for the assignment they wanted to entrust to him. "Yeah," Bancroft said after that long pause "Let's say something like that." "That sounds pretty cool," a weak smile on Thomas' face, "I'm Thomas Bohnam, a low-level employee in the..." he stopped, "Oh, wait, you already know. Haha-" a short dry laugh, while he ran his free hand on the back of his neck.

The elevator finally dinged their stop at the ground floor, and Agent Bancroft exited as soon as the doors opened, followed suit by the clerk clutching the manila folder. They walked through the building hall and left it, the agent walking towards the nearby parking lot. "So uh- where... where are we going now?" "You'll see when we'll be there." he stopped near a black SUV with tinted windows and opened one of the back doors. "And... and why do I have to interrogate someone for your Bureau?" Thomas asked, getting in the car followed by Bancroft that proceeded in closing the door. "Orders," he stated. He gave a quick nod to the agent in the driver's seat, who promptly started the engine and drove out of the parking lot, taking the road leading to their destination. "So... are we going to be... like... dunno, sort of colleagues?" "Probably" "And who I-" "I gave you some of the files." Bancroft interrupted him, pointing at the manila folder, "Up to you if you want to read them now or when we'll be there." "Ah." he completely forgot about that folder, even if he held it in his right hand all the time.

----

The drive to where they were supposed to be - probably the Bureau headquarters, guessed Thomas - was at the same time long, but not that long. Maybe some strategic tactic to confuse outsiders and keep the exact location unknown? That would also explain why the tinted windows in the back seats didn't let you see anything going on outside and why they lifted a similarly tinted screen to separate them from the driver. Thomas was not supposed to know where they were going.

When they stopped and left the car, they were inside what - to the clerk's eyes - appeared to be a plain empty hangar. Agent Bancroft and agent Leavitt - the one that was behind the wheel - started walking towards one of the ends of the hangar, while Thomas was looking around trying to figure out where he was.

"C'mon! We don't have all day, buddy." exclaimed agent Leavitt, their nasal voice echoed in the empty building. Thomas jumped, clutched the folder to his chest and started walking, picking up the pace to reach the two agents that - meanwhile - stopped in front of what looked like a reinforced door with a keypad and another panel probably for some type of biometric scan, Thomas imagined.

Thomas nervously fixed his glasses on the nose and lowered the gaze onto his battered black Oxford-style shoes. His anxiety was starting to rise again. The agents called for his attention again and ushered him inside what to the simple employee's eyes looked like another elevator with really high security. And that started going down. "So... uh- underground?" Thomas commented, breaking the silence and trying to distract himself, "Th- that's cool. It's kinda... like the bureau in Hellboy and... and the MiB headquarters," A glare from agent Leavitt shut Thomas up. He shuffled a bit, fixing his wrinkled white button-down inside his black pants, then his grey tie around the neck. Thomas still had his little badge pinned on the chest pocket. He wondered if to keep it or remove it, but the elevator reached the floor of their destination, and the clerk's attention was back on the two agents leading the way in a large and anonymous corridor.

He clutched again the folder to his chest while following the two agents leading the way in that underground floor with corridors too similar to each other. “Bancroft, Leavitt!” called a voice unknown to Thomas, who lifted his eyes back up to look in the voice’s direction. The owner of the voice was a man in his fifties (or so Thomas assumed), with salt and pepper hair and a serious expression on his square-ish face, that was walking towards the three of them. “Boss” replied Leavitt, halting their walk followed by Bancroft. “Finally you’re back, why did you take so much time?” the man asked, stopping a few steps from the trio. “Bohnam here was a bit… skittish about being assigned a task outside his field of work” replied Leavitt, moving a hand to gesture at the nervous clerk between them and Bancroft. “But I was able to convince him, in the end.” added Bancroft “As you can see, boss”. “Ah, good, good.” nodded their boss, eyes then moving onto Thomas, “I’m Gibson, Head of this section of the Bureau.” he quickly introduced himself “I’d explain you some more things, but we don’t want to get too behind schedule,” and saying that he turned around and started walking, followed by Leavitt and Bancroft and - a beat later - by Thomas.

“I need you to lead this interrogation with the suspected time traveller we are keeping into custody and-” “A what?” exclaimed Thomas, not realizing of having interrupted the higher-up. “...A time traveller. Did you read the files, did you?” he asked, turning his head a little to glance at the clerk. “Uhhh… well, actually… I barely remember what I read because I had a panic attack and words started to not make any sense.” Thomas confessed, lowering his gaze. Gibson sighed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. You’ll have time to check everything while you're interrogating him.” and on these last words, he stopped near a plain black door on the right of the corridor. On it, there was only a little label with ‘2-C’ written on it. “We’ll be in the adjacent room, listening and monitoring the interrogation.” added Bancroft, before following Leavitt and Gibson through another door.

“Oh, shit” Thomas exhaled. His anxiety was starting to rise up again, but he tried to put on his best work persona and at least appear calm. He removed his nametag and shoved it inside his breast pocket while picking from it his cheap ballpoint pen with the chewed bottom. A big breath and then he entered the interrogation room.

The room was plain: grey walls, a supposedly two-way mirror on one of the walls, a metal table that was screwed to the floor, two simple chairs and on one of them - on the side opposite to the door - there was the time traveller. For Thomas’ eyes, the time traveller looked like any other normal dude… probably on the side of having a bad taste in clothing. Or maybe it was himself the one with bad taste, but surely the man in front of him looked like he did not know how to match colours… but, also, he didn’t understand a single thing of fashion so-

“Finally someone showed up!” grunted the alleged time-traveller, stopping the random train of thoughts that was running free in Thomas’ mind. “Ah- ehm-” Thomas cleared his voice “Yes. Hello.” he said, walking towards the table and sitting on the free chair. He put the manila folder and the chewed pen on the table, nervously fixed his glasses on his nose before starting to speak again “I was appointed to conduct this interrogation. Or you could see it more like an interview if it makes you feel more at ease.” a weak smile on his lips. “Name’s Thomas Bohnam and you’re” he lowered his gaze and opened the manila folder “Stardust… uh- how is your last name pronounced? Anyway, from what I see you’re a time traveller? That sounds very interesting, I’d honestly never thought that time-travel could be possible and-”

Thomas lifted his gaze back on the time traveller, finding him frozen and staring at him wide-eyed. It looked like Stardust also paled a little. “Something is wrong…?”

“W-what… What did you say? Y-your name, what did you say it is?” stammered the time traveller. “Thomas Bohnam, why?” he repeated, a brow lifted and tilting his head on one side, confused by the weird reaction from the other guy. Thomas jumped a little when Stardust slammed his hands on the table, swearing and then quickly standing up making his chair fall on the floor.

“Fuck! Fuck!” the time traveller repeated, running his hands on his face and hair, walking back and forth on his side of the room. “Fuck! Of all the people I could accidentally meet while in this Era, I had to find Thomas fucking Bohnam!” Thomas was shocked by the reaction of the time traveller that was freaking out after discovering who he was. But why? Why this strong reaction? He looked in the two-way mirror, hoping to see some kind of signal but obviously, he could only see the reflection of what was happening in the room.

“Ahem” he cleared his throat again, trying to get the time-traveller’s attention “Why… what…” he stammered before shutting up for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. “What is the problem? We’ve met in the future? Or maybe you’re confusing me with someone with the same name? Homonymy is not that rare…” “The problem?! The problem?!” the time traveller exclaimed, turning towards Thomas. “The problem is that you-” then he cut himself off and swore again. “Can’t talk. How the hell am I supposed to know what could cause a goddamn paradox? I can’t say jack shit.” he huffed, lifting the chair from the ground and returning to sit on it. “God. Can’t wait to tell the others I’ve been in the same room as that motherfucker.” he muttered, crossing his arms.