#i’m incapable of going an hour without having them on my mind

[indybob]

Idk why but early to mid forties hangster has been stuck in my head and they won’t leave me alone. I’m thinking they’ve been married for going on ten years, they adopted two kids, a pair of siblings, a girl and a boy. The first few years are difficult at first, but they both get promoted beyond flying, and Jake is still so in love with his job, though Bradley is less so.

After a long and difficult conversation, Bradley decides to retire from the Navy after 20 years. He misses flying, and he finds that he genuinely would rather help raise the kids, so he becomes a sort of stay at home dad. He gets his penchant, healthcare, and all those other benefits for himself, Jake, and their kids, while Jake continues to rank up to a two star admiral.

Bradley lasts about three months in “retirement” before he applies to be an instructor at a local flight school, deciding that his fighter jet days are in the past, but his love for flight will never fade. He picks up a few students throughout the year as a sort of part time passion job. Something to do for fun while the kids are at school all day and his husband is at work.

It works out great because not only does Bradley have something to do, but he finds he has a knack for teaching and that it brings him just as much joy, if not even more, than flying fighter jets. It becomes the best compromise for himself and Jake so one of them can be at home a little more consistently with the kids, and neither one of them has to give up their dreams.

And, well, nothing fills Jake’s heart with love quite like seeing his husband so happy.

[fastandcarlos]

Late Cravings : ̗̀➛ George Russell

summary: what baby wants, baby gets, even if she does want it at 3am, much to george's dissatisfaction

You barely managed to walk through the door before George appeared in front of you, his eyes were wide as his hands held onto your arms, studying you closely before closing the door. 

“George, at least let me get in,” you told him, being directed by his hold. “What’s going on? Why do you look so scared?” You questioned, sliding your shoes off and kicking them to one side. 

It was only once George stood still that you could see how nervous he looked. His heart was racing as he finally let you go, brushing his hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, taking a moment to pace and compose himself a little bit once again. 

The fear of stirring in the night and not feeling you there brought a terror that George had never experienced before. He had no idea where you were, terrified that one of his worst fears during your pregnancy had come true. 

“Where were you?” George frantically asked you, “what sort of person just gets up and leaves the house at three in the morning without telling anyone where you’re going first.” 

You felt guilty as you heard the panic that was still in George’s voice, encouraging him to take a seat beside you. Your hand rested against his leg, assuring him that you were there and that you were safe. 

Your free hand reached into your bag and pulled out what you had bought on your late-night adventure, with George’s eyes watching carefully to see many of the things you’d been craving in front of you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about these and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep without getting my hands on them,” you told him, ripping open the packet of crisps you’d bought. 

“But I could have gone to get them for you, all you had to do was ask,” George groaned, staring across at you as you placed a crisp into your mouth, throwing your head back in satisfaction. 

The thought of waking George did cross your mind, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it, he was peacefully sleeping beside you and you didn’t have the heart to disturb him. 

“You were asleep and with how busy you are you need to rest as much as possible,” you told him,  I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t feel like I was up to it George.” 

George’s head nodded, he understood where you were coming from, knowing that you wanted to remain as independent as possible, but even by his standards this was a stretch too far. 

“I could’ve sat in the passenger seat and slept,” he suggested with a smile on his face, “at least then I would have known exactly where you were.” 

“But you know where I am now, that’s the main thing, right?” 

George’s eyes narrowed on you, as safe as you were now, half an hour ago he was worried that it was going to be a whole different story. 

“I wish you’d tell me when you’re planning on giving me a heart attack,” George joked. 

“It’s all part of the fun,” you argued, resting your head down against George’s shoulder as you continued to eat. “You know I am just pregnant though George, I’m not incapable.” 

Whilst George was overprotective, you were a little carefree making the two of you a little conflicted. George wanted to know every last detail while you tended to not tell him much about what you were up to, confident you could still take on the world, even if George was a little more doubtful. 

“Maybe going out so early in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea,” you reasoned, much to George’s delight, “I suppose I could have sorted out my cravings in a little bit of a better way.” 

“I know how you get when you’re craving though,” George mused, “if there’s one thing that I know about you it’s that you definitely get whatever you want when you’re craving.” 

You nodded in agreement with him, you were determined with everything that you did, but now you were more determined than ever to do as much as you could for as long as you possibly could too. 

“I don’t mean to constantly be on your case,” George told you, kissing against the top of your head. “I need to remind myself to trust you more, to know that you know how far you can push your body.” 

“I wouldn’t do something if I couldn’t,” you assured, “and as much as you might not believe me, if I need help then I will ask you for it George.” 

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “I know you will, and I’ll always be there whenever you need me to step in and help you out.” 

“That’s why you’re such a fantastic husband.” 

You weren’t oblivious to how lucky you were to have George by your side doing absolutely anything that you needed. He was beyond excited to have a baby, wanting to do as much as he could to help both you and the baby out, maybe sometimes a little too much, although you knew George always meant well. 

“I draw the line at three in the morning,” George then spoke up, sending you a knowing glance. “It’s dark outside and you can’t see where you’re going. No craving can be as important as keeping you safe in conditions like that.” 

“I was driving and my lights were on.” 

“Still,” George sniggered, dismissing your protests. “From now on if you need anything in the night then you can shake and kick me awake, regardless of how sleepy I might look beside you.” 

Your eyebrows raised as George spoke, “I can kick you?” 

“That’s the bit you focus on,” George grumbled, rolling his eyes at you as you threw your crisp packet into the bin. “You got anything else in there, I’m hungry now after all the energy I’ve just exerted panicking for you.” 

“Are you pregnant and craving?” You asked him as his head shook. “In that case then you get nothing, these are mine and mine only.” 

You reached forwards and opened up the packet of sweets that you’d bought, taking one out. Luckily for George you reached across and popped one of the sweets into his mouth, much to his delight. You leant back against his chest as you started tucking in, his arm wrapping around you. 

Despite the way his heart had raced just a few minutes earlier, it was a lot calmer as George noticed the content smile now on your face. He knew that pregnancy was far from easy for you, trying his best to understand your mood and emotions as much as he could. 

“Maybe we should stock up on some of the things you crave,” George suggested, watching your eyes light up. “You know like how people how emergency rations; we could have emergency cravings.” 

“That might not be the worst idea,” you agreed, “but only if you agree that they’re for my cravings and not for you to keep tucking into.” 

“You know what my appetite is like, when there’s food in front of me then I’m probably going to eat it.” 

“Think of it like this, would you deny your child food if you ate the food that is kept in the cupboard for them?” 

“Oh wow, now that is the ultimate guilt trip.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus’s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[amarylliasky]

Y’all I am so so sorry it’s so late! I can explain! And I promise I won’t post all of these so late! I just had to stay at work an extra hour tonight and didn’t have as much time to finish this as I thought.

That being said, I’m not sure if I really like how it came out, but my writing skills are a bit rusty. I especially haven’t written much fanfiction over these last couple years. It’s mostly been snippets(that I haven’t posted), which was what I had planned this to be, but things happened. Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

Number 3, here we go!

Five Times Calyan Fell Alseep on His Family and One Time He…

1. Alberu Crossman

He would do anything to get out of this mind numbing meeting.

Crown Prince he may be, but even he is just about five seconds from pulling out Taerang to just lightly threaten some of these imbeciles in the room with him. Seriously, they’re in the middle of a war. Why are these idiots so invested in his relationship with the Dark Elves? Sure, it would be bad if someone makes the connection between them at this point in time, but what are they going to do with that information? He planned to reveal it at his coronation anyway, who’s going to try and get him off the throne when he’s already been announced as the current leader of the Roan Kingdom? As if Robbit or that coward third prince would be able to lead them to victory. Then again, he himself would not be nearly as confident without his headache of a dongseang/commander at his side.

Ah, at least there is one other person with a functioning brain in this meeting. However, his resident headache producer has been awfully quiet these past two hours…

Sneaking a look to his right as some central faction nobles prattle on about the churches and not enough healers, (pfft. As if the sun god has ever contributed to the welfare of this kingdom), he finds himself momentarily perplexed at the expression on Calyan’s face.

Glazed reddish brown eyes squint beneath slightly furrowed eyebrows. A curtain of deep red falls across his eyes as he continues to stare at a certain spot on the ovular table. Usually his dongsaeng would do his absolute best to zone out during these meetings, leaving all the discussions to his overworked Hyung-nim, the brat. But it’s almost as if he is actually trying to pay attention? Or perhaps stay awake would be the better term. Come to think of it, what was Calyan doing before the impromptu meeting?

Alberu had received word that the central faction’s nobles had a very important matter to discuss pertaining to the Kingdom’s current state of affairs. Of course, he doubted whether it was truly so important to interrupt their plans of smacking the White Star from behind, but nonetheless, he agreed to see them, as it wouldn’t do for the Crown Prince to disregard the “state of his Kingdom” in a time of crisis.

What had surprised him though, was their insistence on the inclusion of the former Commander, Calyan Henituse.

He had been rightfully annoyed at the audacity of these nobles that would demand his dongsaeng’s presence at such an insignificant meeting when he was finally able to rest for a few days. However, upon discussing it with the person in question’s older twin, Cale, neither he, nor the redhead could convince their troublesome little brother to stay away. For Calyan apparently has eyes and ears everywhere and Alberu’s Instructor-nim is still incapable of lying to his liege. Darn sensitive swordsman.

So when Calyan walked into the meeting room, Alberu had expected a lot of things. His usually stoic face with a hint of annoyance about being interrupted from his “slacking”; a blank face with barely visible exhaustion from the constant overworking, or perhaps cold eyes, ready to stare down any who even consider offending those he considers his people.

But what he didn’t expect to see was the redhead almost dragging his body through the doors and looking like he’d gone several years without a wink of sleep; his meticulously styled hair and unwrinkled clothing doing little to hide how utterly worn out he looked. Either these disrespectful nobles didn’t notice how exhausted his dongsaeng looked, or they just didn’t care, as they finally started the meeting once the Commander was present.

Which brings them to their current predicament. Alberu is beyond tired, which goes to show how tired the man at his side must be. Evident by the fact that he is actually trying to pay attention to whatever nonsense the other occupants of the meeting hall are spewing. Subtly shifting closer to his sworn brother, Alberu lets his hand just barely brush the against where he knows younger’s to be under the table. Seeing those hazy eyes focus on his faux blue ones, he conveys a silent message.

‘Are you tired?’

The blank look he gets tells everything.

‘Why are you asking such an obvious question?’

He should have seen that coming. He conveys something else.

‘I can bail you out. It’s not like you need to hear this obvious buffoonery.’

That gets a barely noticeable smile from the redhead. But Calyan imperceptibly shakes his head.

‘I’m fine.’

What blatant lies.

He knows there’s no use in trying to reason with his stubborn dongseang, so he instead tunes back into the discussion when he hears his title being called by a no-name Count.

It is a mind numbing fifteen minutes before he feels a weight on his shoulder, and all at once, the hall falls silent. Looking down, he sees a head of long red hair slumped against him. Luckily the chairs were situated in a way that Calyan’s chair was at his side instead of further down; a sort of intimidation move on Alberu’s part, so the Commander had blessedly not fallen to the floor when he evidently succumbed to sleep.

“Is there anything else that requires the Crown’s immediate attention, Count Rodden?” Said man nervously shifts, clearly having more to say, but relents upon witnessing the Crown Prince aiming his blinding smile directly at him.

“Ahem.. I suppose we should finish our discussion at the next meeting then, your highness.“ Count Rodden avoids his eyes as he says that, clearly not wanting to end the meeting there, but unwilling to propose waking the sleeping Commander on the Crown Prince’s shoulder, and most likely earning the ire of the swormaster and highest grade expert he knows are on the other side of the doors.

As the nobles finally filter out of the room, Alberu makes a mental note to thank Cale and Choi Han for being so intimidating. Say what you will about the eldest Young Master of the Henituse County and the scary Swormaster, but they sure know how to get those idiotic high classes to submit.

Sighing in relief that finally, finally, he is out of that horrible meeting, he once again looks down at the young man slumbering away on his shoulder. Hah…really, his dongsaeng is just too adorable.

Steeling himself, he reaches his unoccupied arm to gently rouse his adorable headache.

“Dongsaeng, Calyan. It’s time to wake up.”

His only reply is slow breathing. This won’t do. Any moment now, the chaos incarnate and his vicious instructor-nim will kick open the doors. He’s got to wake Calyan up. For the sake of his ever-growing damage repair bills.

“Donsaeng. Wakey wakey. If you don’t wake up your brother is going to permanently scar some poor nobles..” Still no response but heavy breathing. He swears it’s like this man wants to make his life harder. Oh wait, he does, doesn’t he?

Hearing the chatter outside growing faint, Alberu finally resolves himself to having to carry around this lazy little brother of his. Propping Calyan’s head up with the hand currently attached to his imprisoned limb, the Crown Prince is forced to pause when he feels that something is off here.

Since when has Calyan ever been so still?

Sure, he loves to sleep and will grumble when anyone tries to wake him, but ultimately he still answers whoever it is, even with only a tired groan. Even the few times Alberu is forced to wake up him up after an all-nighter forces them to crash on the couch in his study(while the company is quite appreciated, he’d rather skip the never ending paperwork altogether thank you), he would usually burrow deeper into whatever he’s laying on(Alberu, in this case) in an attempt to not get up. If this was an attempt to get out of the meeting, he would’ve stopped it as soon as the rest of the room’s occupants were on the other side of the doors.

Which makes this situation all the more strange. And worrying.

Well, that and the obvious fever. With Alberu’s hand on Calyan’s head, he can clearly feel the unnaturally high temperature. Why didn’t he feel it before? And the unusually loud breathing; it’s no wonder the redhead is down for the count. When was the last time he slept?

He has precious little time to think about that though. Moving his right arm to Calyan’s back, he reaches down to place the other under his dongsaeng’s knees for a much more comfortable position in which to carry him. He lifts them both off the chairs with ease(which is just a tad bit concerning), and mentally prepares himself for the hour-long lecture he’s sure to receive from the redhead’s equally red-haired, overprotective twin.

In the time it takes him to get them both out of that awkward semi-hugging position they started with, the heavy doors of the meeting hall are pushed open and he can practically feel the satisfaction radiating off the two hooligans. Where he would normally feel an incoming headache, along with a small amount of pride, he only feels growing concern for the young man in his arms……And maybe a bit of trepidation for the hurricane of nagging soon to come.

This is going to be a long, long night…

————

Calyan Henituse, formerly Kim Rok Soo, has experienced a lot of sleepless nights in the last twenty years for someone whose dream is to do nothing but roll around on his bed. For the record, he blames that stupid Radish for his lack of a slacker life. If that White Thing would have just minded his own business and left Roan alone, Calyan wouldn’t have to lose sleep(and brain cells) trying to find a way to get rid of him. So yeah, he is unfortunately familiar with going several days without sleep during his plans to smack the White Star in the back and meeting up with various allies across the two continents. Though his frequent use of record in order to speed things up does nothing to soothe what is most likely one of his many stress headaches. It’s a bit annoying having to deal with them after being a spoiled young master of the rich Henituse family in this life, but he dealt with them for years as Kim Rok Soo, he can deal with them for a few weeks now. Just until he can find a moment to rest.

Or so he thought. Because the very first thing he registers after his impromptu nap at the latest and most probably annoying nobles meeting is a headache at least five times worse than the ones he frequently got as Kim Rok Soo. That’s not even mentioning how his whole body feels as if he just experienced what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one of Choi Han’s brutal training sessions.

He stifles a pained groan as he attempts to slowly open his eyes in order to better adjust to the light in his room.

It appears it was not needed though, as the mana-powered lamps in what is most definitely not his bedroom are set at the lowest setting. The room is just barely bright enough to distinguish the sleeping silhouette of its only other occupant.

Alberu Crossman sits on a chair beside his own bed, in his own bedroom, that is being occupied by Calyan. His head is at an awkward angle(ouch) and he has his arms crossed even in his sleep. All in all, he looks like he fell asleep waiting for Calyan to wake up.

He…doesn’t know how to feel about that. There’s definitely a certain warmth at the actions of his self-proclaimed Hyung-nim, but he would still rather Alberu not waste his time and energy staying with him when the Crown Prince is surely even more exhausted than him. If anyone deserves to rest during such a chaotic time, it’s this quarter Dark Elf.

That said, this is not exactly an ideal position for the future Sun of Roan to sleep in, so Calyan will just have to wake him up and force him into his own(currently occupied) bed to get some real rest.

As if sensing his thoughts, the pseudo-blond shifts slightly before slowly opening his eyes. Blinking the sleep away, his not-blue irises lock onto sharp, and thankfully no longer hazy, reddish brown ones.

“Hah. Took you long enough. Well isn’t that convenient how you woke up only after your brother left the room.” He scoffs at the man who stayed asleep throughout Cale’s entire over-an-hour long lecture about making sure his troublesome brother rested. Who knew that the so-called “Trash” Cale Henituse, who was known for yelling at everyone and throwing around wine bottles, would tell off the Crown Prince of Roan for letting his twin attend a meeting in his condition. And that he would do it all without raising his voice above a whisper.

“My sincerest apologies your highness, the star of our kingdom. You have my most heartfelt gratitude for courageously bearing the full might of-“

“Enough.”

Alberus heaves a deep sigh into his hands before brushing back his disheveled hair. He can now finally allow himself to relax. He is not going to lie, he’s happy to hear his dongsaeng’s voice again. Even if the first thing the person in question says is complete, nonsensical flattery. Alberu was a bit unnerved at how absolutely still Calyan was during the meeting, and that feeling evolved to concern and anxiety when Calyan eventually collapsed in the middle. Suffice to say, Alberu will now be thoroughly observing his dongsaeng for any discomfort at a formal event in the future. Forget about any consequences, Calyan will always come first.

Sigh. He reaches out a hand and places it gently on his troublesome brother’s forehead. Good, his temperature seems to have gone down a bit.

“Hyung-nim?” Calyan says with a small bit of confusion.

Alberu sighs for a third time. “What am I going to do with this troublesome dongsaeng of mine?” He says with exasperated affection.

Calyan attempts to sit up. But is swiftly stopped by hands firmly keeping him from moving. Too tired to protest, he resigns himself and simply mutters one word.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” What are you sorry for? He wants to ask. For getting sick? For going to the meeting without any regard for your own health? For worrying your family?

“I put you in an awkward situation.” Oh. Calyan avoids his eyes, running his hand over a particularly interesting strand of red hair. His face remains stoic, but his voice and actions speak of his sincerity. Truly, Alberu doesn’t understand the thoughts going through that brilliant but dumb head. Is he really thinking about Alberu’s reputation at a time like this?

“Do you really think I care about what those imbeciles with no tact think of me?” Calyan stops fidgeting, but is clearly still troubled. “Dongsaeng, you did me a favor. If I had to be in the same room as them for two more minutes, I might have considered calling your brother.”

The redhead lets out a small huff at the mental image of Cale getting full reign to say whatever he wanted to those insufferable suck ups. He’d send them packing, that’s for sure. Finally lifting his head to face the prince, he is slightly stunned to find a fond sort of amusement reflected in the quarter Dark Elf’s eyes.

He knows Alberu truly doesn’t care about what anyone, let alone those who hold hostility for his family, thinks; and yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty for the position he’d unwillingly put the other in. He may be weak, but he doesn’t like to be a burden on his colleagues. Least of all, someone he considers family. He knows it is okay to need others, he is only able to survive thanks to them, but he also knows when they need him to be strong. If it were anyone else, he might have done considerable harm to their image. It is only thanks to Alberu’s own wit and status that Calyan’s act of falling asleep in an important meeting was set aside so smoothly.

Regardless, he allows himself to let it go just this once. After all, who’s going to fault the Crown Prince for the actions of his sworn brother? Alberu holds all the cards. He’s got loads he can use against those central faction idiots; and if he needs more, Calyan will happily contribute to their humiliation.

“Move over.” He is snapped out of his musings by a short remark from the man to his left. Confused, he makes space for Alberu to join him on the rather large bed. What was all that forcing him to stay still earlier if he was just going to be forced to move?

He complies as the young man situates them so that they are both covered in the plush comforter and Calyan’s head is resting in his lap.

“Your highness…?”

“Hyung-nim.”

“Hyung-nim…what are you doing?”

“You keep wincing as if you have a headache. I wouldn’t be surprised. Just let your Hyung-nim deal with everything.”

His protests get stuck in his throat when he feels gentle hands carding through his hair. Embarrassment aside, the repetitive motion does somewhat comfort him, though it does little for a headache as severe as this one. Of course, he’s not going to tell Alberu to stop. Why waste the opportunity to sleep on the Crown Prince’s lap? And just where does he manufacture his blankets? Calyan will have to mention it to Ron.

Alberu scoffs softly. “You’re probably the first person to make a royal into a bed. “

He continues carding his fingers through the long hair, untangling the silky wine-like strands. “Just sleep, Calyan. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the children just yet. I’ll tell them it’s a sleepover.”

A sleepover in the Crown Prince’s bedroom? It was almost funny to imagine. But the assurance that the children would remain ignorant of his condition(at least for the time being) allowed him to finally relax and give into the lull and warmth. Even after his unplanned nap, he feels the exhaustion creeping up on him. However, unlike the last few weeks, he welcomes it. The White Star can wait to be smacked just as Calyan can wait a bit longer for his life of doing absolutely nothing. For now, he’ll sleep for a few (maybe a few dozen?) hours and dream of retiring in his late twenties.

Calyan falls asleep to the quiet murmurs of his Hyung-nim’s plans for dealing with lousy citizens and the feeling of complete safety only few can give him even in this life.

Yes, he is close to his long-awaited slacker life. Maybe in a few more months, there can be more nights like this with his family. Preferably without the sickness and embarrassing positions though.

///////

Also, just wanted to make a note here in case people don’t read the tags. Please do not tag as ship. All relationships in my countdown, unless stated otherwise, are purely platonic.

[more-sonorous]

sun, moon, stars part 1— jatherid blurb

I adore this ship and I decided to write the hypothetical beginning of a fic loosely based on a post I saw by @blurglesmurfklaine about these three being roomies during the 2020 quarantine

Please lmk if you’d consider reading more! Also TW for mentions of the Covid pandemic!

…

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.” 

Katherine Pulitzer watched as her best friend, David Jacobs, anxiously traced his thumb over the grooves in the table beneath them. He always had a lot of nervous energy, but this was another level.

Those round, green eyes of his were flitting about behind the lenses of his thick-framed glasses, flicking between his laptop and her. She frowned and reached across the table to gently pat his hand. 

“Maybe you’re right, David.” She said, doing her best to reassure him with a calm smile. “You might enjoy some time back at home…”

“Trapped in my parents’ house for an undisclosed amount of time without Sarah? Yeah.” He let out a dry laugh and buried his face in his hands.

She glanced over the familiar pattern of freckles on the backs of his pale hands as her mind raced to try and come up with a solution. 

Katherine and David grew up side-by-side in a small town in upstate New York. They went to the same synagogue and attended the same schools, and had been virtually inseparable since first grade. They’d even gone to the same college and purposefully lived in the same dormitories each year, because they couldn’t be roommates due to their genders. Post-college they were just as close. Kath knew David like the back of her own hand, and knew his family very well by extension. The Jacobs’s were incredibly nice. Esther and Mayer were loving parents that cared deeply for their children, Sarah, David, and Les, which often led to David feeling burdened when he visited. 

Unlike his younger brother and elder sister, David was an introvert with narcolepsy. That led to his parents smothering him when he stayed with them, something that he didn’t necessarily appreciate in large dosages. Now that an imminent quarantine in New York City had been announced, Katherine could tell he wasn’t excited to drive one-and-a-half hours upstate and out of the city just to sequester himself away with two fretting parents and a teenage younger brother. 

“Where’s Sarah staying? I still don’t think I get why you two can’t hole up in your apartment together.” She took a brief sip of her latte and closed the keyboard of her iPad, fully immersing herself in the conversation.

David shrugged as he glanced out the window adjacent to him. The streets looked deceptively normal, despite the warning the city’d just received. “She’s going to stay with her fianceé and her family. They have a vacation house in Massachusetts.”

“Right…” Katherine winced sympathetically as she tried to read him for his opinion. He had a telltale furrow in his brow that showed how disappointed he was. “I forgot Sarah’s been gold digging.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could live alone.” He lamented, glancing up at her with a sad little smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Narcolepsy and autism aren’t a good combination.” 

Katherine rolled her eyes fondly, reaching across their little cafe table to fix his glasses. “You make it work, though.”

“Barely.” He shrugged, and as he glanced down at the string he was spinning between his fingers, probably picked off of his sweatshirt. She saw just how bothered David was about all of this. There was a rigid hunch to his shoulders and his normally smiling face had been twisted into an unhappy resting frown. “Like— I love my parents and I like visiting home, but I moved out for a reason, you know? They make me feel like I’m incapable of functioning without constant supervision, which just isn’t true.” 

“Of course.” She nodded, sympathy tugging at her heartstrings.

David was brilliant. He was one of the smartest people she knew. They’d been neck-to-neck for valedictorian in school and he’d ended up stealing the spot with his straight A’s, 4.0 GPA and 34 on the ACT. Hell, he was working through a master’s degree in Juridical Science, and still managed to tack on both a history minor and a literature minor during undergrad. She’d gladly tell anyone she knew that he was a genius. Kath didn’t know exactly why David couldn’t live alone, but she knew that narcolepsy made it dangerous. He couldn’t drive because of his condition and she knew that sometimes he needed help waking up and sleeping. She also knew that because of his autism, he tended to lose himself in reading or school projects, because she’d had to remind him herself to eat or take breaks multiple times throughout their friendship. 

He didn’t deserve to feel babied. The thought of David holed up in his house and miserable while she spent her quarantine happy with her boyfriend made her feel uncomfortable. 

Yes, Kath moved in with her boyfriend of three months, Jack Kelly, and despite what her parents said, she regretted nothing so far. Jack had a nice studio apartment in Upper Manhattan and she’d rather die than spend quarantine in the Pulitzer mansion with her asshole father and suburbanite mother. Not to mention at least one of her six other siblings would be home, and Katherine didn’t get along well with most of them.

She was sort of the black sheep in her family. A bisexual, unmarried journalist in her late twenties, moving in with her Hispanic boyfriend after only knowing him for a few months? Her family was constantly having conniption fits over her life, and she was too happy to care. 

Jack brought so much joy to her life. She didn’t care that her parents hated the fact he was a full-time artist. She ignored the snide remarks her father made about his ethnicity and illegal immigrants. Her mother liked to gossip about his ‘street style’ because he had one of his ears pierced and he liked to wear ripped jeans. They warned her about a potential ‘seedy past’ just because he had scars on his arms and face— just two little ones splitting his eyebrow and left jaw. They were wrong about Jack, though. He was sweet and funny and passionate and talented, and Katherine liked that in men.

So she’d moved in three weeks ago, and things were going swimmingly. Part of her wanted David to be that happy, and part of her didn’t even know if she could handle being away from him indefinitely.

“There’s got to be something we can do.” She stated firmly, watching him miserably pick at his untouched croissant. “Someone you can stay with…”

“I’m not burdening anyone but my family with my health issues.” He responded just as stubbornly. 

“Don’t even. You’re not a burden. What about—“ The idea struck her like some sort of cartoonish eureka moment. She felt her own grin and wondered why she hadn’t had the thought to do this before. “What about me and Jack? Jack’s brother Tony’s moving in with his boyfriend for quarantine so his room’ll be open…”

David’s cheeks began to splotch pink beneath his freckles. “I— I haven’t even met Jack.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. He’ll like you. He has to like you. You’re my best friend, and you’re part of the Katherine Pulitzer Package.”

A sheepish grin took over his face and he dropped eye contact again, that pinkish color tinging the tip of his nose and his endearingly wide ears. “Kath…”

“It’s true. And the thought of you spending all of this quarantine an hour and a half away from me during a pandemic is making me nervous.” She crossed her arms, starting to like the idea more with every word she said. “Listen, David, I’ll run it by Jack and you could probably move in right after! You’re already packed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Then you can take the spare room and we’ll split rent three ways. It’ll be better for all of us. David, this is going to be so fun! Think of all the shows we’ll be able to binge!” She was practically near the point of squealing as she took his hands in her own. Visions of younger Kath and Davey filled her mind, composed of all of the times they’d sworn to live together or start up businesses or run libraries side by side. This was going to be fun. She’d get to spend time with her two favorite people.

Unconvinced, David’s frown deepened. “Kathy, I… I don’t know. Does he— does Jack know I’m autistic? And my narcolepsy, I don’t… I don’t wanna make him uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” Katherine scoffed, offended by the thought. “If he’s uncomfortable then that’s a huge red flag. You and I can just pack our stuff and move into your place. But Jack won’t be weird, I promise. He’s incredibly sweet. And David— you don’t make people uncomfortable.”

“I sleep all of the time and I have incredibly strange habits—“

“Everybody has weird habits.” She insisted, dead-set on the idea. “And sleeping all the time is better than leaving out dirty dishes or never closing the toilet seat, or something. Plus, you’re incredibly tidy which’ll fit right in with Jack and I. He cooks, I do laundry, and you can help us clean up.”

“I don’t want you to have to do my laundry…”

“Specifics~” In a sing-song voice, she tried to subdue his overthinking. 

He tilted his head with a slight smile, obviously confused by her. They were at the point where he didn’t have to voice his troubles reading her emotions. She found the expression adorable, anyways. “You really are determined to see this through, aren’t you?” 

“Yep.” She grinned wildly, “You know how I get when I’m determined.”

“I know.” David conceded, and Kath noticed that he already looked just a bit brighter as he carefully brushed one of his chocolate-brown curls off of his brow. “I guess I… I’ll tell my parents if your boyfriend says yes. Will you— you’re not gonna— I won’t be interrupting anything, will I?” 

Kath was confused for just a split second, until she noticed the pinkish color of his cheeks. She couldn’t suppress her own soft giggle. “Oh, no, David. You won’t be.”

“Okay… if you say so.” He shook his head at her as his attention returned to his laptop. She could see the reflection of a Quizlet in his lenses.

Now she was practically itching to leap out of her chair in the tiny café. The news outlet she worked for had already transferred them to online work, since they only went into the offices three days a week. She was going to go home to Jack and have an easy, quick conversation, and then David wouldn’t have to be miserable. Plus, she’d finally get to live with her best friend.

“You almost done studying, hon?” Kath asked, carefully bumping their ankles together. She polished off her drink, vibrating with the happy energy of a plan coming together. 

He glanced up through long, dark lashes, wearing a little smile at the nickname. “Almost. You rushing me, Kathy?”

“No. I want this future lawyer to pass his test tomorrow.” Despite her practiced tone, she could tell he was seeing right through her. She acquiesced. “But I’m also excited to get home and talk to Jack. I’ll call you right after he says yes.”

“You can’t be sure.” He murmured, and she watched a flashcard flip. 

Katherine was going to quell his nerves, because she was actually 100% positive. “We’ll see about that.” 

David only chuckled softly and returned to his studying. Katherine had long abandoned her half-finished article in favor of conversation with him, so now she just watched his elegant fingers fly across the keys at breakneck speeds. This was going to be good.

…

Katherine was rarely ever wrong, and she hadn’t been wrong about Jack. When she inquired about David, he gave her an easygoing smile and agreed to the living arrangement without much further questioning. Maybe it had been her obvious excitement, or the spiel she’d given in David’s favor before asking the question, but he seemed perfectly alright with a total stranger moving into his spare room. 

She was tossing a throw blanket over the couch when Jack exited the bedroom wearing a tank top and an unbuttoned flannel, the sleeves rolled up to display muscular forearms. He looked so goddamn pretty that it took her brain a moment to reset before she could continue her couch dressing. It wasn’t wise to get Katherine started on his excellent choice in jeans, either. She could go on for days about the way he cuffed his acid-washed pants.

Jack sent her one of his bright smiles as he crossed the room to wrap his arms around her, dropping his chin onto her shoulder since they were nearly the same height. “Is your friend gonna be here soon?”

“Yes.” She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and twisted within his arms, slinging her own around his shoulders. “David’s incredibly kind and smart, but he can be sort of awkward at first. It’s not because he doesn’t like you. And remember, he’s got narcolepsy so—“

“I remember.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, his touch slow and sure. It still stole her breath, even after three months. “I even looked up some of that narcolepsy stuff, just to make sure I was ready.”

Kath’s heart squeezed at this man’s sweetness, and she felt herself smiling dopily as she cupped his cheek in one hand. “You’re incredible. Have I told you that?”

“Maybe. But I don’t mind hearin’ it again.” Jack grinned the type of smile that made Kath want to kiss him senseless. “But uh— does he do any of that sleep attack stuff? Where their muscles stop working.”

“What, cataplexy?”

He nodded, looking like a mixture between uneasy and determined. 

“David doesn’t have it as bad as some people but sometimes you might see his eyelids start to droop against his will. He gets upset about it. Normally he doesn’t have severe attacks but… he was really stressed senior year of high school and he did go limp a couple of times. I’m not saying that’ll happen, because it’s been a while, but if it does and I’m not here for some reason, just sit with him and let him ride it out. Make sure he’s breathing.” 

He gave a firm nod, a lot less nervous than she expected. Then Kath remembered his youngest brother Charlie, who had a birth defect in one leg that required him to use crutches or a wheelchair on high pain days. Jack was used to taking care of the people he loved. The thought of him doing research for David, whom he didn’t even know, made her feel ridiculously giddy. 

“Gotcha.” Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead and trailed a line of similar, sweeter little kisses down to her lips.

When his hands slipped down to press against her lower back, she knew exactly what he was getting at and laughed as she carefully pushed a hand against his firm chest. “Down, boy. He’ll be here within the hour.” 

Jack’s only protest was a childlike whine, which caused her to push him away by the forehead. Both laughed as Jack made his way into the kitchen to start on dinner. She busied herself with tidying the living room, slight nerves building within her as she hoped and prayed that David and Jack would get along. 

Eventually the intercom buzzed and Kath practically sprinted across the room to call David up. She was rife with anticipation, exactly how she felt before submitting a big article. Jack could obviously tell and chuckled softly as he kissed her forehead on the way to the living room.

Moments later came a knock on the door, and Kath excitedly opened it to reveal David in all of his nervous glory.

He wore an overstuffed backpack and a duffle bag was slung over the crook of one elbow. He was clutching two cardboard boxes to his chest, both reading ‘books’ in his neat scrawl. 

“David!” Kath exclaimed, immediately taking the boxes from him. “Did Saz drive you?”

“She’s bringing up the rest of my stuff.” David confirmed, and Kath almost offered to go down and help until she remembered the multiple powerlifting championships his older brother Sarah won in highschool. She figured Sarah would be alright.  

“Come on in, then.” Katherine smiled at him from over the heavy boxes, full of David’s extensive collection of books. His prized possessions.

They wandered into the space, David’s eyes glancing over the kitchen and their little entrance area, complete with a welcome mat and a rack for their coats and bags. Kath had never lived with a significant other, and she was finding the domesticity of it all very lovely. But she wasn’t worried about his reaction to the place itself. 

The big moment came when David stepped into the living room, Kath trailing behind. Jack quickly stood and she watched as both boys took each other in.

Inwardly, she was proud of David for making an excellent first impression. He wore a nice pair of khakis and an olive green sweater that made his eyes look almost vibrant in their green hue. His curls were tamed and he didn’t look too much like a deer in headlights, though she could already see him struggling to maintain eye contact with a smiling Jack, who gravitated towards him and offered a hand. “I’m Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing. I’m David… it’s nice to meet you.” He took Jack’s hand, which only reminded Kath how tall he was.

Jack was a bit on the shorter side at 5”9, but David towered above just about everyone at a clean 6”2. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet ya’ too, Davey.” 

“Oh, it’s— um—“

They shook hands and David didn’t even wipe his palm off on his thigh as he normally did, staring at Jack with wide, green eyes. It had to be the nickname that had spooked him, Kath knew, and felt her anxiety peak. Last time someone had attempted to give him a nickname he’d nearly shut down, but instead his eyes just roamed over Jack’s easy expression.

He cleared his throat. “Right. So… uh… my room?”

“Right this way, sir.” Jack, goofball that he was, pretended to tip an invisible cap. A little smile split across David’s face as he followed Jack further into their space, to the spare bedroom Tony had recently vacated. The tension seemed to disappear immediately as Jack took David’s duffel from him and led the way.

That went surprisingly well. Kath wasn’t sure she’d ever seen David take to someone so easily. Except for herself, of course. But they were six years old and she’d asked him to play pirates with her since he was crying, so she wasn’t sure if that counted. Usually it took him about a month to get past prolonged, stony silences and awkward refusal of eye contact, but here he was smiling and relaxing his tense posture already. 

Snapping out of her stupor, Kath joined the boys in the bedroom, and set David’s boxes on his desk. She finally pulled him into a hug. He responded gratefully, pressing his cheek into her auburn hair. She felt the tension seep out of him like it always did when they hugged. “Thank you so much for this, Kathy.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think we’re too codependent to survive a quarantine apart.” 

David laughed softly and stepped back, tucking his hands into his pockets as he examined the room. He was drawn towards the window, which is sort of what Kath expected from him. His childhood bedroom had a bay window and a reading nook. They’d spend countless hours curled up there. “This place is really lovely.” 

“Thanks.” Jack leaned against the closet, eyes lingering on David. Kath could understand— sometimes it was difficult to look away. He was incredibly pretty. “My Ma’s friend used to own it and she pulled some strings to get it for me and my brother Racer.”

When she was younger, there’d been multiple years in which she was convinced she’d marry David one day. He was handsome and smart and really witty and sarcastic once you got to know him— but that dream had sort of fallen through when David never showed any interest in dating. His life revolved around his grades, his intense hyperfixation keeping him from any sort of romance. He’d never dated, to Katherine’s knowledge, and as they got closer to thirty, she wondered if he might be asexual or something.

He was a compelling person. She was glad to call him her best friend. “Have you called your parents yet, David?”

“Yeah. I think they’re disappointed, but, uh…” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m not.”

“Good.” Kath smiled and started to carefully unpack the boxes. 

They heard the intercom buzz again, and Jack politely excused himself to go help Sarah in. David slid up to stand side by side with Kath as they carefully removed his books from the boxes. He broke the comfortable silence, voice tight with nerves. “I… I’m really not interrupting anything, right?”

“No.” She answered as emphatically as possible, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re not interrupting, and you’re not a burden, so don’t even think it. I’m glad to have you here, David.”

“Okay.” He exhaled, and some more of that rigid tension seemed to slip from his slim shoulders. “Just checking.”

“I know.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “What do you think of Jack?”

Green eyes grew wide and he glanced comically between Kath and the bedroom door. “Kath, he could come back any second!”

“Just tell me now!” She couldn’t stop her own giggle at the sight of David’s tiny smile, resting an eager hand on his arm. 

He tilted his head and leaned in, still glancing at the door. David’s volume dropped to an intimate sort of whisper, a tone that sounded nice in his soft voice. “He… he seems really charismatic. And handsome.”

“Isn’t he?” Kath gushed, excited to have David’s approval so quickly. “I think you two will really get along well.” 

Moments later, Jack re-entered the room with Sarah in tow. As promised, she had the bulk of David’s things and carried them with ease, impressive biceps flexed as she set the bags and boxes on the floor. Sarah, embarrassingly enough, had been Katherine’s bisexual awakening. Two years older and positively gorgeous, she’d crushed on David’s big sister for the first two years of highschool.

Privately, Kath couldn’t think of anyone that wouldn’t find Sarah stunning. She was tall and built and she had the prettiest dark hair. It was funny- David was like a string bean compared to her as he hugged her tightly. They were close. Sarah might’ve been the only person closer to David than Kath herself.

They exchanged greetings as everyone helped David unpack, setting up the room and slowly making it his own.  

Jack took a liking to Sarah as well, but to Kath’s utter delight, he really seemed to click with David. David laughed at Jack’s ridiculous little jokes and seemed to enjoy his passionate ranting about art. He even let Jack call him Davey for the entirety of the night, which both Sarah and Kath were floored about.  

On the other hand, Jack seemed to like David’s dry humor and found his awkwardness just as endearing as Kath did. He listened to David talk about his rigorous law courses with rapt interest, and Kath decided then and there that they’d be fast friends.

She knew change was hard for David, and that was evident in the way he clung to Sarah once his room was set up. She rocked him back and forth in the hug and gently ruffled his hair as they said their goodbyes. 

Soon Sarah was gone, and Kath could see actual tears in David’s eyes as she left. The only logical thing to do was tug him into a hug, which he melted into. “You’re both gonna be okay, David.”

“I know.” He sniffled, fists gently curling into the material of Kath’s shirt. “I’ve just— I’ve never not lived with Saz.”

“It’s a big change.” Kath agreed, and gently ran her fingers through his curls. 

Jack was wearing a familiar look of sympathy as he stepped closer, gently placing a hand on David’s back. His love language was physical affection above anything else, and thankfully David didn’t flinch away as Jack spoke. “How’d you feel about a movie tonight, Davey?”

Davey hiccuped, “Sounds good.” 

Carefully, Jack patted him on the back and slipped out into the living room. Once they were in private, David’s chest started to shake with little sobs and Kath hugged him even tighter. She’d expected this, but it didn’t make seeing her best friend cry any easier. 

“Shh, David. I’ve got you.” She assured, continuing to card her fingers through his hair. The poor thing was bent at an awkward angle, glasses smushed against his cheek. “This is gonna be fun, right? Longest sleepover ever.”

He laughed wetly and nodded,  pushing his hands beneath his glasses to dry his eyes. “Okay. I think it’s out of my system.”

“Even if it’s not, I’m always right here.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, remembering the countless times he’d held her while she cried over her frustrating parents. Tears weren’t a foreign thing between the two. “Change into something comfortable and I’ll put on Dead Poets Society.”

“Thanks, Kathy.” He whispered, fingers gently trailing down to wrap around her wrist.

Stupidly, her heart skipped a beat. Sometimes he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and the sheer sincerity in his green eyes made her feel some type of way.

The strangest thing was that Jack made her feel the exact same. She tried to push that down and gave him another reassuring squeeze before exiting the room.

David with tear-streaked cheeks was an unfairly pretty sight. 

The smell of popcorn filled the living area as Kath reclined on the couch, pulling up the movie of choice just in time for Jack to join her with a bowl full of popcorn. He glanced at the bedroom door David had since shut, concern lining his features. “Is he okay?” 

“He will be.” She leaned into Jack’s side, balancing the popcorn on her lap. When he still looked uneasy, she laughed softly and nudged his knee. “I promise. It’s tough for him to regulate his emotions when he’s tired, and I’m sure he’s had a long day. Plus, he and Sarah are super close so he might have sister withdrawals.” 

“Okay. That was just sort of heartbreaking.” Jack muttered like the human teddy bear he was, one arm tightening around Katherine. 

“You’re too nice for your own good, did you know that?” She teased, running her fingertips down his cheek. “David will be fine. I promise.” 

Jack smiled and nudged their noses together. “I’ve never seen this movie.” 

“It’s his favorite.” She explained simply, smoothing down the collar of Jack’s flannel. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

They shared a little laugh as David emerged from his bedroom, looking a little more put together despite his puffy eyes. He wore a Columbia t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants that Kath knew he adored. He curled up on the opposite end of the couch, about a foot away, and Kath felt like it wouldn’t be proper to call him over and close the gap. Instead she balanced the popcorn on the cushion between them, wishing he would just sit next to her like he normally did.

His little smile at the sight of the title on the screen was enough. “Have you seen this, Jack?”

Jack and Kath exchanged a look before Jack grinned at David, wide and blinding. “Nope.” 

David’s jaw dropped, and when laughter filled the room, Katherine was sure everything would be alright.

Like most movie nights with her best friend went, he was curled up asleep by the end of the film, using the armrest of the couch as a pillow with his knees drawn up to his chest. She didn’t know how someone so tall could make themselves so tiny in sleep. They liked to joke that he’d never seen the end of a movie before. Jack was crying incoherently behind her as the credits rolled and she decided that this spontaneous quarantine was going to be a bit less terrifying with these boys around.

[peachyloveswriting]

wow!!! the immortality post was so good!! you captured every character so well 🫶 im glad that for nai’s part he stopped himself before he accidentally killed reader—i wonder how insane that would’ve made him. i’m tempted by how angsty that would be …

Anon: *Slides angst onto table*

Me: (in a very suspicious and obviously trying to not be obvious outfit) *snatches the angst and runs away with an evil cackle.*

If you can't tell, angst is my favorite and OMG I absolutely love this idea I'm drooling over it as we speak. Sadly though I feel like my last knives fix was rushed so I'm going to try and write this one better for you.

IT'S A GOOD THING I CAN'T DIE --- Millions Knives

SUMMARY: How could he ever do something like this. And why to you of all people?

WARNING: Death, descriptions of death, mutilation, trauma.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

He has always seen himself as being incapable of caring for someone else. Humans are especially at the top of this list, they are the very thing he's worked so hard to get rid of and yet, he let one walk right into his life. You slowly took over everything he did, his planning became filled with ensuring you had food to eat, finding you a place to sleep and keeping you safe. He kept you in his company, even while you slept, just in fear of what others might do to you. He knows his disciples don't like you, they'd even go as far as killing you, but Knives, he would never hurt you. Never has the day come that he has ever thought about laying a hand on you and if he dared, he might mutilate himself.

The time for that day fills with its unprecedented arrival and it swallows him whole, eating him alive with guilt. In this moment he stands frozen, unable to think or move. Beyond the door he attacked had come a name, his name, in your voice of all things. In his worst nightmares he's dreamt of this but... was it really you?

Just hours before this he had seen a horrific sight, one he hopes will be wiped from his mind forever, an image of you laying in a pool of blood. Impaling every open spot of your skin is nails, each of them driving through to the floor and mangling you beyond recognition. Maybe it wasn't you that he saw, his mind was just playing a trick on him. At this point, he's too scared to break himself from this trance, he doesn't want to know what dead body lies outside that door. He knows he has to check it soon or he might lose his mind at the thought of killing you.

Pulling out of the trance, his tendrils hook the door and relieve it from its place upon the hinges. It snaps with a loud crack as he pulls it away and sets it to the side. Even with the ability to see the body laying in his doorway, Knives is too scared to look. He refuses to bring his eyes forward, and looks away. If the blood seeping into the carpet was yours, what would he do? Would he actually kill himself? Without you, what would he do?

Knives begins to gather the courage to look down at the body in his doorway, casting his eyes to the figure, it runs his blood dry.

The blood covers the whole room outside, it makes his stomach churn at the sight. Saliva fills his mouth, Knives keels over from the sudden intrusion and opens his mouth to let his stomachs contents pour out. Without it being any substantial food at all, it burns the back of his throat with bial. Tears build and blur his eyesight, keeping him from making out the full body, but he didn't have to look that long to know who it was.

Falling apart around him feels like the world, his last line of sanity, the only thing he cared for has been stripped away and by his own hands. If only he had inspected the first body closer he might not have killed you in a fit of rage, he might be able to salvage any sanity still left over, but it's long demented. Simmering in the juices of hysteria.

To his knees, he falls. First Vash and now you. This couldn't really be happening could it? The body before him smells of you, but how could it really be you? Why did you step in at the wrong time? Why did he fail?

From his throat erupts a scream of raw, unadulterated, pain. It's sad and pulled with sorrow before it delves back down into a low sinister cackle. Hysterical to no end, Knives finally loses it. Everything he's lived for up until now could go to waste, and everyone else better swear to God for their safety, if anyone touches you he might not step back over the edge. Any drop of sanity he might just have left, will be gone. Not even Vash would be able to bring him back.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 23: Beloved

The Mandalorian wants to do something nice for you. It has unexpected results. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-22 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: the Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Total smut. Fluffy fluffy fluffy smut smut smut smut smut. The Helmet Stays On SMUT. There's fucking, OK? They fuck. It took 120k words to get there but they fuck. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.6k

“You’re sure Karga doesn’t mind watching the kid this long?” You were frowning, looking at a poncho for a baby at one of the only market stands you hadn’t stopped at yet. 

“He’s happy for any excuse to spoil him rotten,” Din sighed, watching you and the people go by around you. “And your rifle won’t be done until morning. There’s no reason to rush.” 

“Think this will fit him?” You held up the tiny garment. “He doesn’t have much made to keep him warm…” 

Din shrugged before pulling out credits to pay for it, handing them to the woman behind the stand. You smiled, folding up the tiny poncho and adding it to a bag. 

“Give me that,” he held his hand out and you glared at him. 

“Just because I hurt my shoulder doesn’t mean I’m utterly incapable you know,” you said. 

“I never said you were, Doll.” 

“Then let me carry the damn bag, Mando.” 

He sighed. 

“We’re taking everything back to the Crest now, anyway,” he said. “We’ll pick up the kid after.” 

You seemed skeptical but you didn’t pry. He was oddly grateful for it. Doing something nice for you was difficult. You seemed bound and determined to make it damn difficult and he couldn’t figure out why for the life of him. He was beginning to think he could spend the rest of his life trying to understand you and wouldn’t be able to unravel you. 

Night fell as you walked back toward the ship, stopping at a food stand for you to grab something on a stick that you insisted was delicious that Din could only frown at. 

“You need to be more adventurous,” you said, finishing… whatever it was you’d bought. “I’m telling you, food stands? Better than anything you’re going to find in the visiting monarch quarters on Coruscant. Hands down.” 

He shook his head. 

“I’ll take your word for it, Doll.” 

The two of you just dropped off the supplies from town - rations, some bacta, ammunition, the poncho for the kid - and started back to town. 

“It’s quiet without the kid,” you said, looking up at the stars. 

“Almost forgot what quiet was like,” Din said. You smiled. 

“Especially when you’re stuck hauling me around, too,” you teased. You were walking closer to him than usual, your arm brushing his from time to time. 

“Quiet’s overrated.” 

You considered him for a moment but didn’t say anything. Instead, you looked back up at the stars, the galaxy swirling overhead. When you reached town, you started to go in the direction of Karga’s, but Din made you pause. 

“We’ve got one more stop first,” he said. You frowned but stayed close beside him. He led the way to a louder street, the only one left at this hour that was still filled with people. Your brows knitted together, peering around. 

“Did we pick up a local job?” You asked, voice low. 

“No,” he almost laughed. “Just… come on, Doll.” 

He brought you to a cantina, one he’d passed a few times but never stopped into. He’d never had a reason to, until now. 

The bar was loud, a band playing on a small stage, lights dim. He didn’t need them, though. Your smile spread slow and broad over your face, none of the artifice that was there when you smiled for someone else. This was for you. Din spotted a small table in a corner and he put his hand on your back, gently guiding you to it. You both sat down, you immediately leaning on the small table top, getting closer to the music, eyes glued to the band. 

“Are we here for them?” You asked as the song ended, finally looking to the Mandalorian. He shrugged. 

“You said you liked music.” 

You somehow managed to smile even wider, turning your attention back to the band. Din felt like he could hardly hear them. He was too busy absorbing everything you did, the way your head ever so slightly bobbed in time, the way your teeth found your lower lip when the strings picked up, the way you sank back into him without looking or thinking, tucking yourself below his arm and resting your head on his chest. His arm slipped around your shoulders, delicately at first, before he curled his fingers around your arm, pulling you against him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, the colored lights from the cantina casting splotches of blue and purple over your skin. 

After a while, he flagged a waitress down and you ordered a cocktail he’d never heard of, whatever it was coming out from the bar with smoke rising over the rim of the glass. You took a sip, eyes closed in pleasure, before you set the drink down and moved closer to him. 

“I’ve never done this,” you looked up at him again. “Just… gone to a bar like this. For fun.” 

“Me either.” 

You smiled. 

“We’re quite a pair,” you joked. “Very well adjusted, history of very normal experiences.” 

He laughed. 

“That’s us.” 

Watching you enjoy yourself was something he liked more than he expected - and he’d expected to like it a lot. It was as though the forcefield you put up the rest of the time was down. Your feelings weren’t couched in other things, veiled and manipulated to avoid vulnerability. You were uniquely open, like every thought that crossed your mind was written easily on your face. It was a beautiful thing, watching you feel. 

You stayed for hours. Din wasn’t about to ask you to go, you were too happy here. He’d have found a way to move in if it would let you be this happy forever. But the bar started to empty, the music growing slower. 

“We should get back,” you said, nearly on his lap. Your legs were draped over his, his arm was wrapped around you, your head against his chest. “Karga is probably ready to kill us for leaving him with the kid this long.” 

“He knew we’d be out late,” Din said. “But we should get back.” You nodded against him. 

“Let me use the fresher before we start the walk back,” you said, pulling back from him slightly. Your hand went to the side of his helmet, like you’d be holding his cheek if you could touch his face. “Thank you. For this.” 

You, mercifully, didn’t wait for a reply. You just unfolded yourself from him and left the table. Din settled the bar tab and waited, watching the bar as more patrons filtered out. He almost didn’t notice you come out of the fresher, only to be stopped by a group of men hovering near the stage. 

They stopped you for a moment and you gave them a polite smile and said something before trying to leave when one stopped you, grabbing your arm - making you wince as your injured shoulder pulled - and holding you with the group. 

Din almost jumped to his feet, his fists clenched, and he stalked across the bar. The way they’d dragged you back… He couldn’t see your face, but the man’s hand was still on your arm. He was still touching you. Thought he could just touch you. 

“Look, gentleman, I’m flattered…” Din could barely make out your diplomat voice over the sound of the music. He gripped your uninjured shoulder and he pulled you back from them, putting his body between their hands and you. The men took a step back, the Mandalorian a few inches taller than even the tallest of them, his armor reflecting the lights from the stage. 

“We’re not looking for trouble,” the one who’d touched you began. 

“Yeah?” Din asked, stepping closer to him. “Then keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Mando,” you hissed from behind him but he ignored you. 

“She didn’t have a problem with it…” another one said. Mando rounded on him. 

“I do,” he said. He moved closer to the man, towering over him. 

“Mando!” You snapped. He glanced down at you. “It’s fine. Let’s go.” 

You were begging him with your eyes. He glanced back at the men before putting a hand at your back and following you out.

***

You waited until you were on a quieter street, grinding your teeth the whole way, before you turned to him. 

“Want to tell me what the hell that was?” You demanded. He looked down to you for a second before looking straight ahead again. 

“They touched you.” 

“Did you really think I was incapable of handling that on my own?” You snapped. 

“No.” 

You gaped at him for a moment. 

“Then why did you get involved!” 

He shrugged. 

“You’re…” you struggled to find the word. 

“I’m what, Doll?” 

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

The baby was asleep in his pod when you got to Karga’s. 

“You kids have fun?” Karga asked, a teasing edge to his voice. You frowned. 

“Mostly,” Din replied. “Some of the people here need to learn some manners.” 

“It was lovely,” you glared at the Mandalorian before looking back to Karga. “Thanks for keeping an eye on the kid.” 

“Sure, sure, he’s welcome any time,” he smiled. “I hope it won’t be three years before I see you again, Essa.” 

“Next time, I’ll avoid the blaster,” you smiled back. 

The walk back to the Razor Crest was quiet. The silence almost frustrated you more than the incident at the cantina. If he’d just left it alone, it would have been quiet, over in seconds. But apparently, he didn’t trust you to handle it yourself. 

“It’s a nice night,” you said when you made it back to the ship. “I think I’m going to look at the stars for a bit.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, just going to the ladder and pulling yourself up and climbing up to the top of the ship. It hadn’t been a lie, it was a nice night. Not a cloud in the sky, just cool enough that the air felt crisp on your exposed skin. Everything smelled fresh and clean. You brought your legs into your chest, wrapping your arms around your knees. 

There was the telltale sound of metal on metal and you felt the Mandalorian come up behind you, hovering for a moment before sitting down next to you. 

“Ever baffle you to think that you’ve been up there?” You asked, nodding up at the stars. “And how different it looks when you are?” 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“Sometimes.” You were both silent. He felt so close. It was almost hard to focus on anything else he was so close. 

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “They touched you and I lost my temper.” 

“So you didn’t think I needed your help.” 

“No,” he shook his head. 

You sighed. 

“Why?” 

“Why what.” 

“Why did him touching me make you mad?” You asked, watching him. Your voice was quiet.

“They could have hurt you,” he said. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

“What is it that you want, Din?” You almost didn’t want to ask the question, afraid of what the answer would be. Your heart was pounding. “What is it that you want with me?” 

The galaxy was reflected on his beskar, the stars running over his body. It was like he contained everything, all creation present in him. He looked in your eyes, leaning in close, one hand finding your face, holding you gently. You closed your eyes, pressing your lips together as you leaned into his touch. You couldn’t help it. It seemed that anything he wanted to give you, you’d latch onto it. To him. Do anything you could to absorb it and hold it close. 

“I want to keep you safe,” he said, his voice gentle. “I want to see you. All of you. I want to know you. I want you to know me. I want you to be able to be… soft. I don’t… You weren’t made to be hard, Doll. You’re good at it. You’re strong and you’re capable. You might be the most capable person I’ve ever met. But I’ve seen you with the kid, with Layari, with people who need help, just with the worlds you’re on… you weren’t made to be hard. I want to make it so you don’t have to be.” 

“I don’t need…” 

“I know you don’t need it,” he cut you off. “You don’t need anyone to do anything for you. But I want to. I want to do things that make you smile and feel and let you be soft. I don’t want you to go through the galaxy alone. I want it to be with me.” 

“Din,” you leaned in closer to him. You could feel everything in your body. The thudding of your heart against your ribs, the gentle ache between your thighs, the way the blood moved down your limbs. Everything was heightened because he was there, so close to you, everything the galaxy had reflected in him. 

“Doll.” 

You moved - slowly, cautiously - until you were on his lap, your legs over his hips. His hands slid around to your waist. Your forehead pressed into the cool metal of his.

“You want me to stay?” You asked quietly, your arms draping over his shoulders. He had to look up at you ever so slightly from this angle, the chin of his helmet tilted up towards you. His hands slipped around to your back, pulling you closer. 

“I want you,” he said softly. “Everything with you.” 

Your core was pressed against him now and you rocked your hips against him, more on instinct than anything else. 

“What do you want, Doll?” He asked. His voice was strained, his breaths heavy. 

“You,” you breathed, your voice shaking. “Just you, as much of you as you’re willing to give me.” 

“Then I’m yours.” 

He pulled you tighter to him, his fingers almost harsh with need against your skin. The force of him pulled your bodies into alignment and you could feel him through your clothes, a soft moan slipping from your lips. You pulled your head from his and looked down at his armor, running your hands over the metal at his chest. 

“Can I…” 

He nodded, quickly, and you unbuckled his belt. It fell to the ship with a clatter that was almost shockingly loud compared to the quiet you’d enveloped yourselves in. You didn’t care. You moved on to his chest plate, freeing his cloak first and then fumbling with the straps at his shoulders until he helped you remove it, setting it aside. You touched him over the flight suit at first, with just your fingertips before pressing your palms against him, too. His eyes were on you as you explored him like this, until you found the zipper. You held it for a moment, looking at him, waiting for permission. He gave it with a single nod, and you slipped it down his body until the skin of his chest and stomach was exposed to you. 

Your eyes met his as you lowered your hand to his chest, your palm over his heart. You could feel it, beating as hard as yours. You looked down to his skin then, exploring him with your eyes and fingers. His skin was soft with a patchwork of scars, souvenirs of his survival as a warrior. You knew the cause of some of them but you wanted to know the story of each one. You wanted to know everything, all of him. 

“Can I?” He asked, looking at your shirt. You nodded. He slid his hands around to the front of you, almost reluctantly pulling them away from your body to remove his gloves before he took the hem of your shirt and reverently, slowly, lifted it over you. You fought the urge to cover yourself. You couldn’t see his eyes but you could feel them ranging over you. His breaths picked up, his hands going to your hips before sliding over your bared skin, slowly, to your waist, over your ribs, slipping around to your back to pull your naked chest to his. You gasped and then moaned at the feel of him like this. He was below you and in front of you and behind you. Utterly inescapable and swallowing everything around you. 

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” he gasped it, almost like a prayer, as he clutched onto you, pressing his hips up into yours. You rocked your core against him, acutely aware of where fabric still separated your bodies. You weren’t sure that you’d ever felt more exposed or more ready to strip away what little cover you had left. 

You worked your hips against him, moving harder and faster, your head dropping to his shoulder. One of his hands slid down your front, brushing over your exposed breasts, before slipping into your pants, gently stroking your clit, making you moan. The move and the growing need inside you made you daring, one of your hands traveling down his naked flesh and into the suit until you found his cock, hard and waiting for you. 

Your eyes went a little wide at the feel of it, you couldn’t help it. You’d been with men before, but you were positive he was far bigger than either you’d had in the past. Thick and long, you wrapped your fingers around his head and he groaned, looking down to where you touched him. You slid your hand down his hard length, the size of him forcing your fingers apart as you worked him up and down. He pressed harder against your clit and your breath stuttered in response, freezing your grip on him for a moment while you got your bearings. His hand moved further into your pants before his fingertip circled your entrance. You blushed a little, feeling how wet you were and knowing he felt it too. 

“You want me, Cyare,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but you answered it in a gasp anyway. 

“Yes.” 

“Like I want you.” 

He slid his finger into you. 

“Yes,” you managed in a strangled groan. Your hand stilled on him for a moment, too overwhelmed to think about anything but the fact that part of him was inside you. He started moving his finger and your hand slid over him again, your fingers finding the wetness at his tip and spreading it over him. Your other hand slid inside the flight suit and around his waist to his back, fingertips sinking into his skin. He groaned.

“What?” You asked, breathless.  

“No one’s ever touched me like that,” his voice was shaky. “Feels… incredible.” 

He sank another finger into you, making you shudder then freeze, body not able to do anything but focus on him stretching you. He worked his fingers into you until they were as deep as they could reach and he held them there, curving into your inner wall and pressing into the spot that made your eyes roll back and toes curl. 

“I need you, Doll,” he was panting with it. “Need to feel you, need to be inside you…” 

“Yes,” you nodded against him. “Please, Din…” 

“Need you to cum first,” he managed, moving his fingers inside you again. “You’re too tight, don’t want to hurt you… Fuck, please, Doll, cum for me…” 

His fingers were moving harder, faster, so much that you were frozen against him, unable to do anything but take what he was giving you. Your body tightened around him and you pressed yourself closer to him, feeling like you might explode if you weren’t somehow closer. 

“That’s it, Cyare,” he managed. “Give in to it, cum for me.” 

You obeyed, the unbearable tightness inside you snapping as you throbbed around his fingers and gasped his name. 

“Good girl,” he breathed as you went slack against him, leaving his fingers deep inside you as your orgasm eased, your whole body trembling with it. 

When he slipped his fingers from you, he got his cloak, putting it behind you before putting his hands on your back and rising onto his knees. He gently lay you on the cloak, kneeling between your legs. His hands went to the waist of your pants and he paused, looking at you for permission as you gasped for breath. You could only nod, quickly, and he slid your pants and underwear together down your body, exposing you to him fully. You bit your lip, your heart racing, hands instinctively covering yourself. He ran his hands over your legs until they met between your thighs, his thumbs gently running over your sensitive, wet slit.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly. 

“Do what?” You were still panting for breath, not yet recovered from your first orgasm. 

“Look insecure,” he said. “Like you’re not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He freed himself from his flight suit with one of his hands, covering his cock with your wetness. Your breath hitched at the sight of him, on his knees in front of you, one hand on his hard length and the other against your entrance. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” his voice was thick with want. You nodded. “Tell me if I hurt you.” 

Din lined himself up with your entrance, notching himself against you before leaning over you so your chest was against his, one of his hands cradling your head. You could feel his eyes on yours through the helmet and the thrumming, desperate need in you grew. You took a shaky breath, gave him a nod and he slowly, softly, began to sink into you. 

You groaned at the feel of it, the painfully pleasant stretch of him opening you inch by inch. It would have been overwhelming under any circumstance, the size of him alone reaching places in you you were certain no one else had ever touched as he pressed into you. But because it was him, his body inside and on top of yours, it was like something inside you broke open. Your heart ached with it. You needed to have him as close as possible - at least this close - as much as you could or you feared you’d go mad. You needed to be this full of him, have as much of him as your body could take. 

Consciously, you knew it couldn’t have been long before he was fully inside you, his hips flush with yours, his forehead pressed against your own, both of you panting for breath, but it felt like it had been an eternity. Your hand went to the side of his helmet, holding him so you could look in his eyes and feel him there, too. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked. You could feel the head of him against your back wall, your core stretched to what felt like its limit around him. 

“No,” you breathed. “Fuck, Din…” 

He pulled back from you slowly, until only half of him remained, his eyes locked on yours before he thrust into you again. Your breaths picked up and he did it again, a little faster this time, a little harder. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, pressing harder into you this time instead of pulling further back, working his hips and cock down into you instead. You moaned, keening below him, arching your back into him. “It’s like you were made for me, never felt anything…” 

He pressed harder into you and put one hand between your bodies to your clit, making you groan as your body tightened again. You worked your hips against his, your hands sliding into the flight suit to his back to hold him closer. He was inside you, making you so stretched and full and yet you couldn’t get enough of him. You needed him in your skin, your blood, needed him in a way you’d never needed anything else. 

“I need to feel you cum when I’m inside you,” one of his hands moved to your leg, pulling it tightly to his side, his fingers roaming over your flesh. “Tell me what you need, Doll. Tell me anything, I’ll give you anything…” 

“Harder,” you managed, panting for breath. “You won’t hurt me, I trust you…” 

He seemed happy to oblige, all but pinning you to the ship with the force of his body against yours, his hips nearly knocking the air out of you with each long, deep stroke. One of his hands came to your face again, holding your head still as his forehead met yours again, his fingers tangling in your hair as he clung to you. Your body grew tighter, more tense, a spring coiled to its breaking point. 

“Din,” you gasped. “I’m going to…” 

You came with a strangled cry, your back arching, and you felt him press into you and go still, his cock throbbing deep inside. His head dropped to your chest with a moan as he panted for breath and you went slack beneath him. 

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before he slowly separated from you, sliding himself from your drained body and all but collapsing beside you. The air was cool on your naked skin but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t have moved from your place beside him for all the warmth in the galaxy. 

He was still panting for breath beside you when he rolled onto his side, a hand sliding slowly over your chest, cupping each breast, his thumb gently running over your nipples, before sliding down your body to your overwrought slit. His finger slowly circled your still sensitive clit. 

“Din,” you whimpered. 

“Remember how I said we needed to make up for lost time?” He said softly. You nodded weakly. “I owe you three years worth of orgasms, Doll, and I know you can give me one more.” 

He pressed a little firmer on your clit and you groaned, reaching for his cock, but he stopped you. 

“This isn’t about me,” he said, putting your hand on your chest. “This is about you. Understand?” You nodded. “Good girl.” 

His fingers slipped lower and two slid inside your pleasantly sore center, working you slowly and gently as your third orgasm slowly built. It was soft, delicate, Din working your body as though he were an expert musician and you were his instrument of choice. 

“That’s it, Cyare,” he breathed. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Just give in to it. I’ve got you, it’s OK. You’re doing so well, just let go…” 

You groaned, body all but giving out as you came again, the pulsing in you weak and languid as your limbs went loose and numb. 

“That’s my girl,” he said gently, his fingers still inside you. He waited to slide them out of you until you turned onto your side, reaching for him. He pulled your body against his own, reaching over you to pull the cloak up and over your naked frame. You’d almost forgotten that it was chilly in the night air until he did. Your arm went over him, sliding into the flight suit to go around his waist and your fingers could be against his skin. You held each other like that for a while, sleep threatening to take you under before you were ready to give in to it. 

“Did you mean what you said before?” You managed, your eyes closed, unable to keep them open anymore. “That you wanted me with you?” 

“More than anything, Cyare.” 

You smiled a little at that. His metal forehead touched yours. 

“What does that mean?” You managed, worried the words were coming out as mush you were so exhausted. “You keep calling me that but I don’t know what it means…” 

“Cyare?” He asked. 

“Mmm.” 

“Beloved,” he said softly, his finger stroking your cheek. “It means beloved.” 

[drinkingasoline]

Mark (Christine Renard, 1977)

I'm going to spend the evening alone again. We dined the two of us together without a word exchanged. I looked into his eyes (not that he’d look at me), and as soon as he got the last bite down, he got up quickly, saying:

“You’ll excuse me, I’m going on a ride with Juliette.”

I should get used to it, but I just don’t.

I can’t stop imagining them, driving gently and talking about glimpses of the landscape illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. Her finesse, her esprit, the vastness of her knowledge enchant him. And I admit, for that I can’t rival her.

It’s how I decided one day to stop following them on their strolls. Juliette had perfected the art of driving me out of the conversation, or making me showcase my ignorance. Those threesome evenings had become such a pain for me I decided to renounce my presence.

When he brought Juliette, we had lived together for a few months. There was no talk for marriage, but an intimacy had started to form between us. Of course, we were never together during the day. He had his patients at the hospital, I had my work as a representative. But there were evenings, there were weekends. Now, it’s with her he spends them all.

Such is the result of the technical innovation of vehicular manufacturers: “Integrate a cultural circuit board in the brain of your car, and you shall never be bored again on long trips.” And it’s true, it’s with me he gets bored now.

For a long time he only had ordinary cars, cars that knew how to drive themselves, sure, but incapable of the rest. The ones that didn’t know how to wash themselves, how to lit the driver’s or the passenger’s cigarette, how to procure them the comfort they needed, how to talk about their job or about the latest best-seller novel. They weren’t dangerous.

But he bought Juliette.

On my lone evenings, I imagine them in some charming place she picked. She offers him a delicious blend of tea or the perfect dinner. And they chat with glee for hours. I saw him a few times come back, his eyes shining, and lock himself immediately in his office. Sometimes, when he gets back from his late-night drives, he doesn’t sleep at all and instead sprints to her place (I couldn’t believe I had called it “her place”) at five in the morning to show her results of his work.

One day, to my great surprise, he offered me Juliette for the day: she’d give me a lift after dropping him at the hospital. It was Juliette that actually suggested this solution. She told me it would suit her, because people often lacked consideration in the hospital’s parking lot, and incidentally, she got bored there.

I accepted on the spot. This magnificent car gave a better impression on my clients than my appalling old jalopy, and to drive such a perfect machinery, or rather to let it drive itself, put my mind at ease.

But quickly, I declared war on her. A war of skirmishes. One of my tactics was to systematically admire the cars that looked anything but like her. Each time I did, I took a anguished tone to tell her:

“It's just that when it comes to your line, you haven't been spoiled, dear!”

Or I blurted:

“Look at that car sparkle. One must ask her the brand she uses, because even after you’ve just polished yourself, you don’t even have a tenth of her shine.”

Not to say she didn’t miss her shots. She drives past a library and talks about some book. She stops abruptly and resumes, disconcerted:

“Pardon me, I’m so very sorry to have been such a bore to you. I always forget you didn’t go to college.”

I don’t answer. She rubs salt into the wound:

“Of course, of course, I know it isn’t your fault. After such a wretched childhood, what you became is already so beautiful.”

Bitch! Bitch! There’s so worse bitch than a car in love.

One day, would you believe, I went to a junkyard with her to watch the wrecks rust.

“These poor machines, they don’t last. See this one, not even three years old. What about this one, not even a dent, but simply exhausted after five years… What a depressing lifespan.”

I’m not surprised when, a bit after, she worries for my health:

“How tired you look today! Not faring well? The flu season, no doubt. Poor women, they’re always so sick! Statistics always claim they live older than men, but can one really call it ‘living’?”

This made me so angry I ripped out the automatic driving plug to take over. I made Juliette run a red light in front of a human cop. I preferred that to a robo-cop, because I knew it would humiliate her so much more. When he came over screaming and waving, I took out my handkerchief and reconnected the automatic driving.

“See, officer: it wasn’t me, it was all her. But it sure is a good lesson. I’ll drive myself now, it’s so safer that way.”

We ranted about those machines, they can’t do anything right, much less drive correctly. I had unplugged her voice box too and I knew she was boiling of rage.

Then started the real war. She never tried to run me over, impossible with the respect of human life etched in her circuits, but she always found a way to scare me. I know very well she can’t hurt me, but I panic every time she rushes roaring toward me. I sprained my ankle one day trying to get out of her way. I limped for a long time. She upgraded to offer more comfort to the man he loved: she insisted for a more powerful heater for the summer days, but kept that leaky window seal in winter: she knew I was prone to ear infections. She honed every skill that could make me suffer: timing her braking right to throw me against the dashboard and its wood paneling, tightening those belts to ensure “maximum protection”. I trembled driving her, terrified she’d squeeze my bruises over again, terrified she’d burn me lighting my cigarette, terrified she’d open the sunroof through hurricanes, terrified she’d open the door in a hard curve just to catch my arm at the very last moment.

One day I took driving duties and went searching for a straight line, with rows of big trees on the side. I would go to the hospital, and maybe I wouldn’t live, but neither would she. In a tree, Juliette, in a tree! But her security circuits worked unfortunately for me, and countered with a steering wheel jerk. I heard her syrupy voice:

“You drive so very badly. You should take driving lessons.”

I went on a frenzy with her plastic body shell and a razor. I barely scratched it. Two hours later, there were no marks left of my futile aggression. Juliette repaired herself by herself.

I shot her in the engine block with a .45 at point blank range; screens popped out and made the bullet ricochet. I tried to set it aflame, but she’s fireproof. I painted garish colors over her, but she rinsed them off.

I drove her to the dealership, determined and scared to death at the same time, not knowing what she could do next. I wanted them to remove the cultural circuit board and change the voice box. It had to be an absolutely impersonal voice, a mechanical robo-cop’s voice, not a lovestruck woman! But I learned only the owner of such a car could make changes to the cerebral boards of the vehicle.

We left without uttering a word, and I let her drive. Arriving home, she told me very slowly:

“It is not worthwhile to try removing me in any way. After me, there will be another. You simply do not measure up, no woman can measure up.”

That’s when I stopped struggling. I went out several times with her, but driving like a car of yore, a car of no fancy. One night, I plugged in the automatic driving to get her in the garage on her own. The dialogue button was pressed in, and all circuits were closed.

“I wanted to talk to you, by the way.”

This upset me. I was almost to the point at which i stopped considering her as “someone”, and there she was, making me question it all over again.

“What is it?” My hand was on the door. I was ready to leave.

She began speaking very quickly, as if she were afraid I’d interrupt her:

“He worries a lot about you. He’s looking for a solution to your issue. We talked about it, and he decided to buy you a talking car with masculine traits. That vehicle would be yours as I am his.”

I never answered, and cut the dialogue circuit. She had won. Entirely. He didn’t speak of any of this, and maybe it’s for the better.

I told them again in the following days I didn’t want this solution. My pride cost too much! but I waited subconsciously for a sharp profiled silhouette that would come and wait for me.

It has now been two years since Mark IV came to pick me up.

My suitcase was ready. I constantly contemplated my departure, but could never commit to it. Mark opened its door welcoming me and immediately drove off. He passed through the city with an artfulness and an audacity I admired, and, without asking questions, dropped me off at my apartment I had left so long ago. He found his place in the garage effortlessly.

Maybe this solution wasn’t so bad after all. It was better leaving anyway than to witness their love as they shove it in your face. But never could I have mustered the courage to leave if he didn’t come get me.

Besides, I got it easier. He drives me everywhere, comes waiting for me, showers me with attention, reminds me of my appointments, does my bookkeeping, is my man. Because there can’t be another man in my life. I simply don’t measure up, Juliette said it so. I work, I make money. That’s enough for me.

The two of them must be happy. She took me out of the equation, and his dear owner must have no guilty conscience at all. Yes, they must be happy. I imagine them on the roads, in the streets, driving gently, lovingly, passionately. It’s like there’s always somewhere to go, something to talk about.

If they think sometimes of me, they must suppose the same for me. They must imagine Mark and I bound tenderly since they never saw me again. Not to say that Mark isn’t perfect for me. He’s intelligent, considerate, has a nice voice, a silhouette and a way of driving admired by all. He ordered my business and doubled my clientele. Yes, he’s quite helpful, but he’s only that to me. Helpful as a vacuum cleaner or a washing machine. If I never saw Juliette again, it’s not that my heart belongs to another man, it’s that I know I lost.

They were still lovers in my mind, living a life of joy without a hitch, until Mark and I drove by that junkyard where I took Juliette. There was truck ahead of us; we were going so slow I saw her dismantled wreck, already rusted.

“Juliette!”

I think I had shouted her name. But the dead can’t hear the living. Mark, who knew everything, plainly said:

“She was tired. Yet she was only three years old. She had an almost pathological awareness of aging. About a year ago, she forced her owner to replace her. He accepted buying a new car, but he refused reselling Juliette. He wanted to keep using her, only…”

“Only for gentle strolls in the evening.”

“Exactly, for tame drives. But she probably felt it as the ultimate degradation, as she came to crash into a ravine, very close to here. I’ll show it to you when we get back on the road.”

I realized I was crying as Mark gave me a handkerchief. My great rival was dead, and because she didn’t tell me a thing, her disappearance had not benefited me in any way. She was dead for a year and he didn’t come get me. Juliette was right: I could never measure up. No woman ever could.

You’ve got to keep face in front of a talking car, even if you have no romantic or platonic feelings for it at all. I heard myself say: “It was only a machine after all, a pretty machine.”

⁂

Foreword from the original editor Juliette Suicide by the park ✺ Mark

[rainbow-okapi]

was absolutely devastated by machina's hands when i read it with my friend (represented by the orange cat) so i made this LMAO https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxFpxfGOBnc&feature=youtu.be

*Intense wheezing* I- I was not expecting y'all to love these fics when I posted them, I was kinda just shitting out writing on the high of hyperfixation- bUT- I SEE Y'ALL. and YOU! I almost just spit out my coffee. Thank you omg. I've been having a rough... year or so, been in and out of the hospital, the Urgent Care, my doctor's office- ya da ya da. But I still see all the comments and love, even if I seem a bit radio silent online. I do- have several documents of stories/chapters started; I just prefer to have the whole story completed when I post. Here's a snippet though, from my longer Warforge WIP "Learning to Lie Again" just for y'all! I don't know how long it's gonna take for me to finish this, but just know I *will* be posting eventually.

[...This was only the first day of you wearing the new shell he had made for you. The bright feeling of seeing you. Seeing the person he grew up with, face to face again. Seeing you express how you felt outwards- even anger, discomfort, tension- had yet to make him any less proud. When you turn from him back to the vanity mirror, Percy can see the visible pain lance your face. His question being answered. How your eyes break away suddenly from yourself. Stay cast down from the reflection. When Percy rests his other hand onto your shoulder for support, he continues to be in awe of the sights. Your perspective shifting from self-inspection onto him. The single action brings awash relief to your features. Brows raising and changing the taunt neutrality to a pleasant smile. A barest upturn. You reach a hand across yourself to hold his own. Metal fingertips covering his. Soothing your thumb across his knuckles. The action smoothing your own features into something sweet and bashful. The other hand leaves the book on your legs as your fingers touch across your defined face. Expression attempting to tighten as you truly give yourself a good look. Incapable of turning to true sadness when Percy gives your shoulder a squeeze in assurance. When you go to speak, Percy watches the reflection with rapt attention. Watching the way your lips part to mimic the words. How he can see the thin line of your jaw hinge split just the smallest amount as it opens to project voice. 

“Sorry… I don’t- I don’t feel any facial shifting so I can’t physically tell what kind of face I’m making…” 

At this, your bashfulness does turn somber. The hand on your face making a contemplative stroke from the outer eye corner down to your cheek. Like you might feel the illusion itself and smooth it out. All you feel is metal gliding down metal. If you focus enough, you think you might feel the obscure magic. A shimmer of something. It stays just out of reach of your perceptual grasp. Drapery that flows like water around you without the damp clinging. It’s you though. Percy knows you never linger too hard on sad stuff until later. When it’s the only thing to occupy your mind. You huff exasperated at him. Eyes crinkling genuinely with a full humorous squint to match him. Percy gently shakes your shoulders to jostle you in an affectionate display of rubbing out the jitters. His voice having not lost any jovial quip.

“That’s alright. You’ve only had this body for a few hours time. I’m sure once you’ve had time to properly attune to it, you’ll be able to manipulate it to fit.”

He holds nothing but sincerity for you. Still taking a long moment to gaze at the two of you together. He makes no move to pull you to dinner which you know shall be soon. Percy knew best to take respite after gifting you the new shell. Not to thrust you into any serious interactions for a few hours so you could acclimate to a new perception. So you could process the start of something new. A change for the better. 

So he had delicately pulled you from the sun room he had called you to before. Back into your barren shelter for books and quiet time. Soft company before dawning festivities that were to come. As far as you knew, the rest of Vox Machina did not know of this new body. This new person that they were to witness. You give a long look at your stately armor next to the vanity. It might make things easier for them to see your familiar dress. But you need small steps now. You were not dressing for war. You were dressing for family. The only armor you needed was Percy at your side. Thoughts broken as he leans in close. His body bending to you.

Percival does not stop himself from leaning down and pecking the top of your forehead. His hand gliding up seamlessly to tilt your head. Straightening your posture. Allowing an easier action. 

His cockiness elevates your spirits. Trailing his casual step back while taking grip on his shoulder to retain him in your orbit. Book being set onto your seat. Matching his height is easy. You don’t even have to rise to your toes to smooth your palm flat. Pressing yourself up to that last perfect inch and grazing your lips across his cheek. A first kiss given on your part. Chaste and hesitant of pressure. Sparing a glance back into the mirror again, Percival sees bright eyes. A coy smirk. Offsetting the smooth caress of metal you could only give in the place of pursed lips. Magic creating the feeling of mist across his skin that passed through the dew thin image. Even as the reflection held nothing but an open illusion of feelings. A hearty darkening of your cheeks. Cheeks lined by a tight smile. Eyes half-lidded. He sees his own skin taking rosy hues. 

A groan of relief and delight. A hand circling your waist and holding you to him in turn. Dipping his head into your shoulder to hide his face. You hold him firm. Bracing the back of his head and toying with his silken locks. His shoulders shake with mirth. Feeling the rumble in his chest reverberate between you two. Your voice, his joy.

“Oh, was that alright? A bit ticklish?”

One of his hands snakes to press between the indent of your crafted shoulder blades. Pressing the fabric of a tailor gifted shirt flat between his palm and you. Surrounding you with warmth front to back. Perhaps you are feeling a bit adventurous. A bit bold. Nuzzling your cheek into his hair and focusing on how your body tries to translate it’s softness through metal. Feeling the magic shift like a gentle river stream as his short cut scratches at you. An all but purring groan dipping into the room as he boyishly tries to deny the soothing action without moving away. You match his lax sigh. Inhaling the smell of ash, parchwood, cologne. Just Percy...]

[heliads]

Tasm!Peter x m!reader who is just as smart if not smarter than Peter, both of them being busy with their own stuff they are never available when the other is so that obviously pushes them away from each other until they eventually break up. With the breakup reader devoted his attention to his work and made something out of himself and is now very successful and super rich, and bumps into Peter one day and you can take it from here I suppose 🧪💞 you already know

combined with this request: "Male reader x Tasm Peter, reader cancels a date due to work or something related to it and Peter saying it’s fine but it’s not really fine and Peter has an outburst saying “I just want you”."

masterlist

You and Peter Parker may not work out. It is a sad truth, yes, but it is the truth, and you have always been in favor of that. If you look at the facts, they do not lie. At some point, you and Peter are going to fracture past the point of no return. It feels as if that moment is growing closer by the hour. 

Hell, it may even happen today. You had a sinking feeling all afternoon that you were forgetting something, a sensation that only worsened when evening came and went to find you still in your lab. It’s not your fault, not really; science has a way of taking up more time than you would like, and your work is important. 

Still, it wasn’t until you finally made it out of the lab and back home when the revelation hit you. Namely, it was the sight of your irritated boyfriend leaning outside your door, coat off and twisted around his hands as if he had been waiting for hours, that finally made your brain connect all the dots. Tonight was date night. Or, tonight would have been date night, but you missed it by at least two hours.

You suck in a breath at the sight of him. Peter has always been good at attracting melancholy and hopelessness, a magnet for the unwanted sort of luck that would have anyone else knocking on wood or throwing salt over their shoulder. Still, you never counted on being a part of that misfortune yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you offer up by way of hello, “it totally slipped my mind, I swear. I’ll be better next time. I’ll even set an alarm on my phone,” you joke, but Peter doesn’t crack a smile and your halfhearted laughter fades off into the whir of the air conditioning unit three doors down.

You can’t look straight at him when he’s like this, so you opt to shuffle your key into the lock, twisting it a bit more harshly than necessary so you don’t have to jiggle it back and forth like the shoddy mechanism usually demands. Straightening up, you gesture somewhat unceremoniously for Peter to enter first. He does so without another word, plunking a wilting bouquet of flowers onto your kitchen table. The thud of the mildewy petals against the wood makes you flinch.

It is not your fault, all of this, just as it is not Peter’s fault that he cannot make you stay, that either of you are so incapable of finding time for each other that your paths only ever meet in half-dark hallways or empty chairs at restaurants booked weeks earlier. Between your work in the lab and Peter’s habit of perusing the darkened city alleyways as Spider-Man, neither of you have much time for anything else. 

Even for each other, as it turns out. You can’t recall the last time the two of you were able to speak more than a few hurried lines over text or voicemail. That was the whole point of tonight, after all– both of you were so fed up with missing each other that you staged tonight’s date as an intervention. It would have been a good idea were it not for the fact that you totally forgot about it.

Peter is standing behind a chair, knuckles curled around the back. He meets your gaze from across the kitchen and it occurs to you that you should look for a bigger apartment. The ceiling is much too low to contain the sort of bitterness radiating off of Peter at the moment.

“I called your phone six times,” he announces, “they all went unanswered.”

“I was in the lab,” you plead, “you know I can’t touch my phone. I did enough biosafety cabinet trainings to learn that lesson.”

Peter grunts, unimpressed. “You could have found a way. You’ve done that before.”

You glance away, opting to train your attention on the moth beating itself senseless on your window as opposed to the boyfriend still staring at you with such disappointment only a few paces beside you.

“It’s just one night,” you excuse yourself, “things happen, we get past them. Can’t we just schedule another date? I swear I’ll make that one.”

“What,” says Peter slowly, “because you’ve learned your lesson now? That’s not how this works, Y/N, and you know it. We’ve been steadily missing dates for months. This one was supposed to fix things. It didn’t.”

You grimace. “I know that, Peter. I know, and I’m sorry, but I was busy. Lab doesn’t have a strict schedule and you know that. I can’t dive in and out of work whenever I want.”

“And I can?” Peter finishes your unspoken thought. “That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? Photography is way easier to manage than your lab.”

You sigh. “If you want to fight, Peter, just go ahead and get it over with. Us discreetly sniping at each other obviously isn’t doing what we want.”

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t want to fight, Y/N. I just want you.”

The way he says it, so desolate, so pure, makes something in you twist with anger instead of guilt. He wants you to feel bad, you can tell that just by looking at him, but you’ve felt bad for quite a long time indeed. Maybe it’s time that he feels a little bit of that as well. After all, you’re not the only one who’s ever skipped out on quality partner time.

So, you fold your arms across your chest, and fix Peter with a glare just as severe as his.

“Yeah, well, I wanted you, too. I wanted you when I came home late to an empty apartment every night because you won’t let anything come in between you and patrolling. I wanted you when I had to keep making excuses to my friends about why you weren’t there whenever we were all supposed to meet up. I wanted you at every work event, every important thing in my life when you were late. I wanted you all the time. Maybe it’s good that you know what it’s like to want me as well.”

Peter’s eyes widen, but you’re already scoffing at his sudden reversal of emotions and grabbing your keys once again. “I’m going for a walk to clear my head,” you announce.

The door closing behind you cuts off any chance at a reply, and Peter is gone when you get back. The only sign he had ever left is the window left half open, a cool breeze already putting your heater to ruin.

You break up about a week later. It is a mutual ceasefire, brought about by too many fights and too little love left to care. It still hurts like anything, of course, to see Peter gradually bringing over the boxes of belongings that used to frequent his house just as often as you once did, but it also feels like winning. Maybe this is how you get the upper hand, by pretending that you’re not remotely as affected by this as he is. Maybe you claim victory by not having to cave and apologize.

Still, arriving back home after late night after late night to an empty apartment doesn’t let the laurels rest quite as easily on your head as you had envisioned. There is no one waiting to help you make dinner or listen to you complain about the new intern who can’t seem to figure out how to parafilm aliquots of cell media without spilling half of it over the surface of your shared workstation. There is no one there at all, in fact, and that hurts far more than you could have ever imagined.

You tell yourself that this is not the worst you have ever felt, that this too shall pass, that one morning you will wake up and not automatically reach out for someone who is not there. The affirmations come true eventually, but they take far more time than you imagined. 

Even on the good days, the ones where you don’t find yourself trying to text Peter most every hour, the memory of what it was like for him to be yours still plays on loop in your mind, a stilted, half-gone recollection of a song stuck in your head. The verses may be incomplete, the melody only half there, but it still judders through your temples on repeat, unable to break free.

To distract yourself, you throw yourself into your work more than ever. It feels like justification of why you’d left, in a way:  if you come up with good results, good papers, then it shows you were right to have to keep skipping dates for this. It gives you a reason to not be in the wrong.

Soon enough, you get that eureka moment. What you had previously dismissed as a mere anomaly, cells acting strangely because they like making your life difficult or something like that, ended up being a key breakthrough to understanding how the human body takes up a certain kind of protein. It’s the sort of thing that has immense opportunities for future development, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of win.

It’s also the sort of thing that wins you a lot of money and attention. Most times, important scientific breakthroughs tend to stay in the annals of Nature magazine-style fame, well known by professionals in your field but never really breaking into the public knowledge, but your discovery is different. You end up emblazoned on the front page of newspapers and magazines, everyone clamoring to hear about just how your achievement came about.

It’s a rush, to be sure, and for a while, it is more than enough to distract you from what had become of you and Peter. It was enough, at least, until you ran into him one morning on the subway.

Neither of you were expecting it, that much is obvious. Peter looks up with wide eyes when you happen to step onto his train compartment of all compartments. You have half a moment to wonder if you could pretend you’d forgotten something and step off again before the door closes behind you and any chance of escape is gone for good.

Peter is still looking at you with that open, haunted gaze. “It’s good to see you,” he says quietly. Most of the statement is directed towards the floor, but you can tell by the roughness of his voice that he’s not merely speaking to the grimy linoleum tile.

“It’s good to see you too,” you whisper back.

It’s painfully awkward, which makes the whole experience even worse. Is this what the two of you have become, bare acquaintances who can’t even make pleasantries on a morning commute tolerable? The two of you used to know each other’s secrets backward and forward. You were the first one Peter ever told about being Spider-Man. Hell, you might have been the only one. And now here you are, swaying slightly on a speeding train, hoping only for the destination to arrive so you can get off again and escape him.

Peter flushes as if thinking the same thing, then tries again. “I read about your work in the paper,” he mentions, “it sounds really interesting.”

You smile without thinking about it. “Thanks, Peter. Honestly. I couldn’t believe it when everything first started coming out, but it seems like the whole world is super excited about what I found. It feels good.” Casting a hesitant gaze towards him, you add on: “It might make up for all those missed dates, right? If I was doing something worthwhile?”

Peter chuckles. “I always knew you were doing something worthwhile, sweetheart. This just means that other people know it too.”

Softly, daring not even to breathe lest it impede your ability to hear him on this all important topic, you dare to follow up on what you want to know the most. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

Peter smiles again, this time more sadly than before. “I forgave you months ago. I forgave you about ten minutes after you left the apartment when we fought, every single time. We’re just busy people, Y/N, and busy people don’t often work together.”

“What if we could?” You ask.

Peter exhales slowly. It takes him a few moments to collect the strength to answer you, but when he does, his grin is more courageous than before. “I think I’d like that quite a bit,” he decides at last.

“I would too,” you reply.

You do not leave the train alone that morning. Not really, even if Peter’s destination isn’t for another four stops. This time, you know that you will not have an empty house waiting for you when work finishes up tonight, but a home, and a home with someone you love lingering inside. It is enough to put a spring in your step as you walk the remaining steps to your lab. It is enough to make you want to try again.

requested by @fadedver, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @namoreno, @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @/fadedver

[legitalicat]

Alisanne and Lyanna meet...

This is meant as a companion piece for The Lives of Friends, a collaboration between @zaldritzosrose @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon and myself. This comes between part 17 and 18.

Part 17

Lyanna had arrived in Dragonstone a few hours after Alisanne. Almost immediately, the two sisters came together to talk after the three months of separation between them.

A: Hey. Thanks for doing this.

L: You’re my sister, I don’t want to fight with you. But the fact you didn’t even try and understand that maybe I wasn’t doing anything to hurt you on purpose, it really hurt Als.

A: I never wanted to fight with you. But I just…Lyanna the things he did, you don't see past those. I can't see past those. His name, his face, even the cologne he used to wear makes me incapable of feeling anything but the worst parts of myself.

L: I know he hurt you. Don’t think I ever forgot that. But do you really think I’d go out of my way to hit you that low?

A: Did…did Aemond not tell you what he and I spoke about?

L: No. He wants to listen to me as much as you did. Both of you just assumed the worst of me. So no, I know nothing.

A: He was meant to tell you. Or at least show you his phone so you could read them.

L: Well he hasn’t. If anything, he’s been an absolute dick no matter what I try to say. I get it, you’re both angry at me, or were angry at me. But fuck…how am I supposed to explain anything when no one wants to fucking hear it. Not even Aegon, I don’t know what he knows or doesn’t know about that creature of a man, but if he ever calls me selfish again…

A: As far as Aegon goes, I've told him what I told Aemond when he wanted to bitch. You and me can say whatever we want to about each other cause we're sisters, but they don't get to say a fucking word. They have no right.

But also, I figured out why you haven't been able to actually say anything. And I know you can't confirm what I'm saying is true but Maegor seems to like me for Aegon, and I know for a fact Rhae told him Aethelcunt is bad, so he did me a favor, and I know you're in an NDA. I know he tricked you. I don't know the specifics, Maegor couldn't get that, but I know you were being honest.

L: I hate it. I fucking hate all of it. He made my skin crawl every time I had to be near him. But this is my fucking job. I can’t count the amount of people I’ve worked with that I despise. But it’s still my job.

I know you love Aegon, anyone can see that. But he doesn’t know me enough for that.

A: I know, sissy. I'm sorry I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I was never honest with you about what happened with him and me. I won't apologize on Aegon's behalf, it's not my place, but you should know Aemond has done the same to me FOR YOU many times. Because he loves you, and it's a good love to have for someone to bat for you without a doubt.

L: I know he loves me, fuck, I’m pretty sure I love him too. I just…I’m scared, Als. Scared that loving me won’t be enough after this.

A: Seriously, how the fuck are you two the only people in the world who don’t understand what the fuck you are to each other? He will be a little bitch baby for a minute but you tell him how I'm guessing you feel about that based off the way you physically turned green at the memory, and confirm how you feel about him, he’ll be putty. He asked me if he could trust the Cunt and I told him quite a lot about what he did, he knows he's a slippery fucker and that's why it scares him. Because he and I were both scared he'd trap you too.

L: The fuck…ALL OF YOU KNEW!? Why did no one say anything? Wait, that’s probably a stupid question, don’t answer that. I just...I haven’t spoken to him since he left King’s Landing. I haven’t even told him I love him too, for fuck’s sake. What if he changes his mind…

But that’s not what I need to worry about right now. You, you are my focus, Als. I need to know what the Cunt did?

A: I need to preface this by saying when I met him, I was reeling from Edward leaving. I was so sure Edward and I were it, that he was my future. I loved him so entirely and so completely and then he was just gone, and I still don't think I’ll ever recover. And now, I need you to tell me what you remember of right when we moved in together.

L: I’m saying this with every ounce of love I have…but you were a mess. Like, I barely recognised you as my sister, and it terrified me.

A: I didn't get off the couch for so long because I was recovering from broken ribs, Ly.

L: I…what! Why the fuck did you never say anything? Wait…of course you wouldn’t because why would you want to? I wouldn’t even expect you to. Did anyone know? Tell me someone fucking knew?

Alisanne leans across the table and kisses Lyanna on the forehead: Hey, hey. Sihtric knew. Rhae knew. Edward came home for me. Okay? I wasn't alone. I just didn't want you to worry, little wolf. Her words are soft and gentle, an almost mothering tone. Alisanne always takes this tone when soothing Lyanna, always wanting to love and protect her.

Lyanna closes her eyes the second Alisanne’s lips find her forehead. She wanted to cry, cry for her sister and everything she’d gone through.

L: I hate that he did that to you. I hate him…just hate him. I hate that I had to work with him and hurt you all over again…

A: Hey, hey. It's not your fault. Rhae thinks he did this to fuck me over. But I need you to know…I reacted so poorly because he did it all, basically constantly. That was the worst time he ever hit me, but it wasn't the first. He…hurt me, in every way you can hurt someone. I don't know if you remember, but the last six months I didn't talk to you guys, really. Not even with Sihtric. He had removed everyone from my life and he is just that person. He plays with people like their pieces to be moved about the board. And I think I was partly angry because he still had a hold on me, but partly because I was scared he would hurt you too.

Everything falls into place, the look in Lyanna’s eyes showing so. Everything made sense.

With shaking hands, Alisanne wipes away the tears in her own eyes. Okay, enough of the sad shit, yeah? I've been dying to give you details about Aegon.

L: Oh my gods! That reminds me, I have to tell you something fucking major.

A: Oh?

L: Aemond said he loves me. To my face. Well, he actually messaged it to me, but still.

A: Oh shit?! How do we feel about that?

L:I mean…I don’t know. I’m scared really. Not scared of him loving me, but scared of what that means I guess.

A: I mean, it's good right? You guys can talk about what you mean to each other and finally be together.

L: He said it when he was angry, it was right after that stupid picture…what if he didn’t mean it?

A: I need you to understand every time you go out of town for work, every single time, he and I end up hanging out because he has no idea what to do without you.

L: Are you serious? Then why whenever we go anywhere public does it sometimes seem like he’s…he’s trying to hide it?

A: You remember in Gilmore Girls when Logan freaked out at the idea of Rory ending their hook ups so much that he talked himself into dating her?

L: Yeah?

A: Think of Aemond as though he is Logan and you are Rory. Like, I don't know everything about his life before you guys, but I do know that he is yours in like every conceivable way and that terrifies the shit out of him.

L: It scares me too! I just..I don’t know what to do.

A: We have the added benefit of having really lovely parents who modeled amazing love in front of us. I don't think Aemond and Aegon's parents have spoken since like five years before they got divorced.

L: Aemond won’t even talk about them if I ask. Not that I ask often, I mean I know it upsets him and the last thing I want to do is upset him…oh my gods, I love him don’t I?

A: Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! I swear, you are so smart until it comes to him.

L: I just…he makes me forget things in a good way, you know? Like no matter how shitty I feel, when I see him, I know I’m going to be fine.

A: He's home, right?

L: He’s home…he’s everything that makes me happy.

A: Awwwww, Lyanna is in loveeeeee.

L: Shut up. Speaking of love..tell me all about Aegon?

Alisanne chuckled a bit and looked down at her hands. That's a bit broad, Ly.

L: You’re so in love, it’s sickening. But I’m happy for you.

A: I haven't felt like this since Edward, Lyanna. Not even in my dreams.

L: If he makes you happy, then I guess he’s alright. Even if it’s Aegon…

Lyanna tried to look serious, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

A: Hey! He's…he's not the same as the stories we've heard.

L: Damn, you really, really love him. I mean…you took a day off, that’s like…I haven’t even got the words for that.

A: I take off every Saturday now, actually. We have a date night on Saturday night and then he’ll come in with me on Sunday cause it's slow. We have lunch every day so he makes sure I eat. I feel like he wants to take care of me, like really take care of me.

L: No one, not even me, Cregan or Sihtric have ever managed to get you to take a day off. Like ever. And Sihtric has crazy puppy dog eyes…But I get it.

A: Our first date, he danced with me in my kitchen to Almost by Hozier. He danced with me. I don't think anyone's ever danced with me before.

Lyanna mimics wedding bells, even throwing fake confetti over Alisanne’s head.

L: And Vhaela likes him, that’s a true seal of approval.

A: Vhaela actually alerts to his oncoming panic attacks and stuff like she does mine. And Sunfyre does the same for me.

L: Listen, I know I joke and stuff…but hold the fuck on to him, sissy. You need someone like him, and he needs you.

A: Honestly, I've been thinking of asking him if he wants to officially move in together.

L: Do it. I’ll miss living with you, but do it.

A: I'll keep paying for the rent and stuff, at least till the lease is up. I promised you I would. But I just…he is everything I thought I lost, and everything I never knew existed.

L: All I care about is you being happy. And Aegon makes you happy.

Alisanne wipes a few years away. She didn't even realize she was crying. But it was a relief to her, to be able to tell Lyanna everything. Aegon was a relief, a much needed reprieve from the life she had lived for so long and the war going on inside her head.

A: Now, why do you shut everyone down about Aemond if you don't like that he does it?

Lyanna pauses. She hadn’t ever really thought about it.

L: Maybe…maybe I just thought saying it out loud would make it too real?

Alisanne giggled and stands up. I swear, nobody is gonna know what the hell is going on with you two until he gets on one knee and pops the question. Come on, I have a very needy puppy that has missed her favorite auntie.

[marengogo]

5: Marengo & The Rainbow Avengers

Take Two - by BTS  

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

I meant to post this yesterday, in honour of their birthday, but, 24 hours never seem to be quite enough do they? So, here it is, the SUPER-LONG-DETAIL story of how Marengo was unexpectedly saved by 7 Rainbow Avengers, also known as BTS.

CHAPTER 1: MY HEART WAS BROKEN

The date was January 27; 2019. ARASHI japanese boy band that debuted in 1999 got together and in front of a well organised, and somewhat serene, press setting, televised to their fans all over the world including myself, announced that they would go on an indefinite hiatus starting January 1, 2021. Not sure why I wasn't expecting this. This was the first time they every did something like this, and the tell-tell signs had been plenty, but still, had I been ready, it still would have hit as hard as it did.

I remember silently crying, as Ohno their leader and my bias, who is the one in the middle of the above picture spoke and told us how, basically. he was tired and just wanted to spend his time on his boat fishing his days away. Fishing had always been his passion, but he also always dreamed of becoming the captain of his own ship Monkey D. Luffy watch out!. ARASHI had quite a few of their own shows and in one of them (Arashi Ni Shiayagare) we the fans, and the other members, got to cheer him on as he studied to get a licence to drive a boat. He succeeded, got his boat and for the rest of that year’s show he’d take us on adventures with his boat, fishing with famous Japanese celebrities as guests it was still a show after all. Every time he was on his boat he looked so fucking happy. So when he finally made the announcement, yes, I was shocked, yes, I was distraught, but ultimately I was happy for him. Just a whole STORM arashi means storm of emotions really. 

You need to understand, at that point, I had been their fan since 2009. If my Japanese is at the level it is right now, 1/10 of it is definitely thanks to them, since I used to regularly translate all their songs, dramas, shows, etc. To imagine I only started listening to them as a fun way to help me study Japanese … Anyways, back on track … their announcement happened on my 10 year anniversary (their 20th) and I remember the following day coming back from work, with their music in my ears, stopping at a traffic light wanting to cry as I kept thinking about them and right in that moment, I looked up at the big screen and so the following ad:

That evening was the first time I actually EVER seen the boys. Before that evening I had only  heard about them, A LOT,  and now in hindsight I know why. The first time had been some time in 2017, while I was looking for japanese articles to translate, I happened upon one that was about ARASHI, obviously, I got super excited and decided to read it. Only to find out how this journalist was basically describing why according to him ARASHI stood no comparison against this 7 boy band sensation “called BTS”. I was so irritated by that article I didn’t even bother to read their country of origin and for the longest time I decided they were Chinese 🤡. Mind you, I never once thought of BTS even after reading that article, my mind was ARASHI ARASHI ARASHI FOR DREAM! but that evening when I saw that ad I hated them. So I walked away, sad and angry O THE DRAMA! 🤡 but just like the first time I heard of them, I never thought of them again.

2020 rolled in, and just right before COVID, I started exploring new things on the internet amongst which I discovered a certain at the time budding actor and become a big fan not about to give myself out, so I won’t tell you who 😜, Let's call them X. What does a fan with extensive editing knowledge do? Why fan-edits of course! So I started making edits of X, and one day, as I was helping make X trend on Twitter for an event they were attending, on my timeline a particular video kept reappearing. So I clicked:

CHAPTER 2: I WAS LITERALLY SPEECHLESS AND MESMERIZED

Within ARASHI, only Ohno could actually dance, but these boys ... these boys could ALL dance and apparently they also sang, some holding one hell of a tune, and that beat, ooh the entire production…: JUST WOW. I must have watched the video another 10 times at least and all the while it never got old, in fact it only got better with every listen; so I then ended up adding ON to my playlist.

This day was February 25, 2020 and this is the date I unknowingly became ARMY and also the day I celebrate my anniversary on. Now you need to understand, my COVID days were mostly making edits of X, supporting X, trending for X on twitter so at this point I didn’t have the thoughts of wanting to find more about BTS. In my head, I found a song I liked, and thought "cool, I guess I don't necessesarily have to hate them ..." I quickly looked up JUNGKOOK because you don't belt a not like that and act like it didn't happened and kept it moving. 

Couple of days later, I’d start working on my first edit of X which blow up. This edit was was made using this one song I heard on a compilation which was circulating on twitter, it had a “certain dancer named Jimin” doing high kicks. The background song they used was named; UGH!. Sure, the dancer was hella skilled … but that song, I couldn’t stop playing the clip and though it was probably because of Jimin, my brain decided that it was the song can’t believe I found the exact edit!!! 👇🏾

Did I realise that UGH! which took me forever to find as I didn’t understand it was the name of the song at first 😂😂😂 was sung by BTS; as in THE SAME BTS I apparently didn’t hate so much anymore? NOPE. It didn’t even occurred to me because THAT BTS was a 7 member boy band not a hardcore 3 member rap group 😬😬😬. Anyways, I became obsessed with UGH! And as one does when in confinement, I started looking for people who would share my same enthusiasm, and since I had already fallen into the world of reactions on youtube for TV series THANKS A LOT COVID 🙃I thought I’d look to see if there was anyone who would react to songs, in this case, UGH! By the rapper group named BTS still to this point I had NO CLUE that they were the same people… I had to download an mp4 version from the internet in order to do the edit, so I didn't even know if it came from an album or where else and what I found was:

They were hella excited and I really could relate with that because that song always made me wanna turn the fuck up, but most of all, they were black people interested in something asian, and that for me was something I could heavily appreciated. Everyday I kept coming back to watch that reaction because it just made me so happy, and gave me so much energy, so I decided to see if they had any more songs from this rapper group. The first video that came up was their reaction to ON KINETIC MANIFESTO. THE AMOUNT OF DOTS THAT STARTED CONNECTING IN MY HEAD WERE SO MANY YOU’D THINK I DISCOVERED THE THREE LAWS OF EINSTEIN!

You should have seen my face when I discovered that UGH! was on the same album as ON: 🤡. This also made me want to look up the one member whose features really appealed to me the most, not gonna lie to y'all, it was love at first sight: RM. Wanting to know who he was I went on wikipedia, typed BTS and kept clicking every members name until I found him wikipedia has them ordered by age. I started reading about him and chuckled when I found out he was the leader what can I say, i seem to have had a type! aaaand he thought himself english and that made him even sexier in my eyes. When I tell you I spent a couple of days being obsessed with Namjoon 😬😬😬 ...

Anyways, I think a part of me wanted to start being invested, thus, before continuing watching more reactions with FoSquad I decided I wanted to listen to MOTS7, in its entirety, by myself and aside from ON and UGH! The only other song that I absolutely adored was Filter. AND SO began my search for the uncredited female singer that sang Filter, whom I couldn't find anywhere, NOT A SINGLE GOOGLE PAGE HAD THE NAME OF THE FEMALE SINGER THAT SANG FILTER ON ONE OF THE BIGGEST ALBUMS OF THE YEAR. For a couple of days this is what my google search looked like “What is the name of the female singer that sings Filter with BTS”. … 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

CHAPTER 3: A THREE MONTHS BLINK

Not finding an answer with regards to the mysterious Filter Singer and also concluding that the internet was still so lacking on proper representation of Asian artists, rather than me being the one who was dumb AF, I went continued my supporting X life, while constantly listening to ON, UGH! and Filter. Eventually, it was time to make another X edit, meaning I needed to search for new songs and since X was obsessed with BlackPink I decided to give them a chance and at the time the most recent song was SOUR CANDY feat. Lady Gaga. It was very Gagaish I just so happen to really like Gaga and the beat was perfect for editing, so I used it. On top of that, I joined X's I don't remember how many days countdown to the premiere of “How You Like That”. As I said, X was obsessed with BlackPink, hence, I became a Blink for 3 months.

The day How You Like That dropped I was just as excited as X and at the time I was staying with my directors at their place and they became my "covid bubble". The 3 of us were trying to save our company during COVID inactivity, which meant that during the mornings it was an incessant string of calls with lawyers, with rightfully desperate landlords chasing for money we didn’t have, third parties also needed money we didn't have ... basically, just a whole lot of heavy grinding. But in the evening, we'd cook dinner and we’d all watch a movie once we had quickly gone through the most recent Queer Eye season, even Queer Eye in Japan! and after they’d go to bed, I’d step up, talking with my X Twitter GC, while watching other shows and right before going to bed I'd watch How You Like That to get my spirits ready for the next day.

This was my routine at their house, every day from the release of that song, for a good 2 months. When August rolled around I decided to go back home, as the situation with the company seemed at least a bit stable. So it was back to self-distancing by myself and to my own surprise I didn’t feel the urge to listen to BlackPink at all. X was all that really mattered after all, and they had stopped talking about them, for the time being. So one early ass morning on August 21, 2020 I just so happened to be awake and twitter was buzzing with people waiting for a new BTS song to drop. As I was already awake and had another hour waiting for X to appear at their interview event, I decided to silently wait with ARMY; I did like ON after all. Thus, came Dynamite

CHAPTER 4: LIKE AN ECHO IN THE FOREST

It was nothing like ON. So at first I was a bit confused and didn't know what to think, as it was clear that I hadn't understood their genre. Yet, somehow, that boy winking at me at the end of the MV kept making me want to replay the song and before I knew it I was “shining through the city with a little funk and so-oul!”. Eventually, I looked him up and found out that the cute boxy smile boy with the light blue outfit’s name was V. Just as easy a name to remember as RM. By all means, he wasn’t RM, but that smile just was the cheekiest thing I had seen in a while.

But there was another person that was also FINALLY "introduced" to me through this video, the one who was my mysterious female voice and "UGH! dancer": JIMIN. Not sure why it didn’t connect with ON but the second I heard his voice in Dynamite DOTS WERE CONNECTING LEFT AND RIGHT, AND IT WAS FINALLY CLEAR IN MY MIND THAT SHE WAS ACTUALLY A HE, WHO WAS PRETTIER THAN A SHE AND SANG & DANCED LIKE AN ANGEL 🤯🤯🤯. ... Basically Dynamite introduced me to VMIN. 

It goes without saying, my queer-senses were all over the place with Jimin. So, as i usually do, not at all knowledgeable of the South Korean culture, I dove into the internet to ask and see if JM was part of the community: nothing came up. In fact, it was full of people going to a great length to explain why there was NO WAY IN HELL THAT JM WAS QUEER. Funnily enough, as I kept trying to look for connections between JM and the community, all that came up with connections between RM and V and the community (as they had made posts and connected with queer people, music, etc). The strong denying of any sort of connection between JM and Rainbow nation did discourage me a little, NGL. I had spent a year trying to not fall for queerbaiting and I didn’t want it to happen again. However, as I didn’t want to jump the gun since I didn’t quite know them at all, I decided that even though he wasn't a Fred Mercury he perhaps was a Bowie or a Prince. I was okay with that and decided to close that rainbow chapter at that AT THE TIME, BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW WHERE I STAND NOW 🤡. 

The weeks following Dynamite things around X’s management start to look very dodgy and fishy. As a fan you want to be positive, hope for the best, but as more and more evidence was brought forth I had to start to at least dissociate X from their company. This really made me and my X-friends incredibly sad and pretty disenchanted I will admit. Day by day we tried to look at the bright side but, it kept looking rather grim and right about that time somehow I was exposed to STAY GOLD and LIFE GOES ON. Thought Stay Gold wss the one in Japanese, the one that stuck with me was Life Goes On. I remember walking around the still empty studio we hadn’t been able to reinstated none of my colleagues with Life Goes On playing rather loudly. The comfort that song provided me in that moment I will never be able to explain. Is probably the same feeling older ARMY have with Spring Day. Life Goes On came to me in a moment when I really needed to hear those words, gently and promising, like an echo in the forest. 

As it started to become clearer that X was just as cowardly as their company I took a break from my Twitter page, which also just so happened to fall around Xmas time, so I got to actually have a real break with my sibling away from all that nonsense and into a different more secure looking world.

CHAPTER 5: WHO IS BTS?

I spent a good deal of my xmas break watching people's reaction to BTS, their story, their struggles, their MV. Through these reactors and “BTS experts��� I was introduced to SOPE. In my baby ARMY experience they came as a set, Ying&Yang, one the opposite of the other, at least this was how majority of the old BTS edits and explaining videos would portray them luckily we now have many updated and more extensive videos out there. While watching all these compilations I also eventually learned all their names and started watching RUN BTS from episode 1 when I figured out tha utmost of the edits were from there I thought “Let’s go straight to the source, if I want to learn really what they are like”. 

The first thing that became pretty clear to me was that for example HOBI and YOONGI weren’t quite exactly like the compilations had been describing them all of them in fact. And it wasn’t like all the boys tried to act reserved or hide certain parts of themselves, they seemed so open that if people paid even just the smallest amount of attention they would know. So for the first time in a long time I found a group that wasn’t giving me doubts, worries … I really didn’t have to think too much but at the same time I knew that if I ever fell back into being depressed from my post-COVIDic environment, they’d also be able to find me down there, because they didn’t seem to shy away from those situations either. 

Going back to RUN BTS real quick, the one thing that it did for me, was introducing me to none other than KIM SEOKJIN. Before I knew it I always found myself following jin on the screen, waiting for him to talk and say a pun or dad joke, or just wanted to see and hear him laugh … I developed a crush for Jin and a small pointy edge every time someone would leave comments on youtube like “why is jin even in this band”, “ there is a reason why Jin dances in the back”. “Jin is not even handsome”. GURL/BOI/ENBY. Taking a break from X meant I would stay well away from Twitter, so I had no idea about BTS proper solos, antis, etc and like a moth to a flame, I’d fall for any troll and start defending Jin against the world. MFers … how dare they disrespected him like that! AND IN FRONT OF ME!

That being said a person called me a Jin-solo in a comment and the second that happened I was about to reply that "Yes I love Jin-" the implications of being a solo, COMPLETELY lost on my Baby ARMY ass but the second i started typing I immediately thought of Namjoon, and then Jungkook, and Jimin ... eventually I thought of all members and realised that I liked each member for different reasons and I couldn't choose one. Further research would eventually teach me that meant I was 0T7.

On my way back from my Xmas break I decided that I would stop associating with X and just move on with life. On my journey back home we were told we had to be Lockdown again, which really depressed me, but as if it was second nature, I played Life Goes On and tried to think of any positive thing. So I got back home wanting to watch more BTS reactions, while listening to BTS and wondering what Jin was doing. And from that moment on for a good month I’d go into my still empty office but this time knowing we could start calling back at least 2 of my colleagues, which made me so ecstatic sit down with my coffee and say “Alexa, play BTS” and Alexa would reply “Shuffling songs from BTS” and ALWAYS the playlist would start with a familiar whistle …

And the rest is history 😜.

So who is BTS? They are the 7 boys that came to my rescue when I felt heartbroken. The 7 boys that had so much skill and love to share with the world and wanted for me to join and not be left out. They are the boys that never pressured me into needing to like them, but somehow were always there when I unknowingly needed them. They are the 7 boys who reminded me that it was okay to not be okay and just go with the flow of things, even if it is against the flow of all. They are the 7 boys that keep trusting us with their everything and all they ask in return, if possible, is to be there, at end of this gigantic rainbow. And that is exactly where I plan to be. I am so grateful for all 7 of you and words could never describe how much I love you.

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY MY RAINBOW AVENGERS.

Always incredible respectfully yours,

Marengo. 

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 109-111

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 105-108 here

***

42. “Rough or gentle?”

59. “You want to come?” “Y-yes, I— please—” “Hm, but do you really deserve to?”

66. “You’ve got me all hot and bothered.”

67. “You don’t get to touch yourself until I say so.”

69. “Please let me come.”

91. “How do you want me to touch you?”

129. “I wanna eat you out so fucking bad.” “Then why don’t you?”

133. A whispered, “Then come for me,” right next to their ear after they beg for release through tears and soft whimpers, because they’ve been edged for way too long.

136. “No one does it like you.”

142. “Can’t— can’t you go faster than this?”

143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.”

***

Despite his revulsion, the hours of recordings passed by, and before he expected it he reached the final files of material. Since he’d given himself more to review than Jason and Damian, they were done already and had moved on to other avenues of investigation.

The problem with human brains, even the best ones, was that they were incapable of truly multitasking. Tim could switch more rapidly than most between the open tabs in his mind, but when it came to surveillance review, the job required his full attention because it was too easy to tune out. So he sat at his desk at home listening to all the tawdry and cringe-worthy conversations and tried not to fall asleep.

“Oh, my goodness, you're so silly,” Katarina said in his earbuds, her own boredom coming through loud and clear even with the pounding bass in the background. Underneath the client's reply, a pair of male voices held a conversation nearby.

Tim sat up straight in his chair. Why in the hell hadn't he thought about isolating the audio of adjacent conversations before?

Cursing his own stupidity, he scrambled to capture the noise profiles of Katarina's conversation and remove it, then isolate the men's conversation and restore it to the track. It took some work with high-pass filters to get the bass out without removing the men's voices with it, but finally he could turn up the volume and hear most of what they said.

And there was Falcone's lieutenant Johnny Viti, talking about bases of operation.

"The one on Field Avenue near Mercy Bridge," he began, and Tim snatched his keyboard to begin typing frantic notes one-handed while yelling at his phone to call Damian.

It rang five times before a decidedly grumpy voice snapped out, "What," in greeting.

"I think we've got them!" Tim crowed, watching the auto-generated text feed across the screen. "I suddenly realized I can—"

"Drake, are you aware of the time?"

"No, no, Damian, you're not listening, I have to tell you about—" A long-suffering sigh directly into the phone cut him off. "Okay, fine, it's, uh . . ." He peered around, looking for a clock display on any of the screens around him.

Some of the irritation in Damian's voice smoothed into something gentler. "Look at your phone."

Tim did so, then cringed. Five forty-five. "Oh, hell. I'm so sorry. You've only got like half an hour before you have to get up for work."

A breath of laughter. "A little longer than that, since I won't be going into the office today." Tim's silence must have betrayed his confusion, because Damian clarified, "It's Sunday."

Meaning, his one day this week to truly sleep in. Tim cringed harder. "Shit. I was just really excited and I forgot to check. I'll let you go."

"There's no need." Damian's sheets rustled in the background. "I'm awake now, and I'd like to hear it."

"Are you sure?" Tim paused the recording.

A quiet grunt, the type that usually accompanied Damian stretching. "Yes."

Tim brightened. "Okay! So I was listening to the last hour of Katarina's recordings."

Damian listened to the explanation and the new information in silence, then said, "That's excellent work. You've just given us a huge step forward."

A tidal wave of heat flooded Tim's entire body. He went rigid, trying to process it and figure out the reason.

Oblivious, Damian continued, "I imagine you'll discover even more vital information as you review the previous recordings. You should take yourself off the patrol rota for the next week so you can devote yourself fully to the task. I know you won't be able to focus on anything else in any case. Not until it's done. And no one does it like you."

That had to be a record for the highest number of positive things Damian had ever said about Tim in a single sitting. Tim opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. His heart pounded in his throat, immobilizing his vocal cords.

"Are you still there?"

Fuck. He had to say something. Something that didn't acknowledge the extremely weird boner situation currently happening.

Tim clicked his mouth shut, cleared his throat, then finally managed to spit out, "I, uh. I." His gut churned, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "I. Thank . . . you?"

Amusement colored Damian's tone. "You're unsure?"

"No. It's just . . . um. I'm." Tim swallowed and rolled his eyes at himself. "This is embarrassing, but I'm really—” Shit. Maybe he could joke this away. “You've got me all hot and bothered."

This resulted in a long pause, during which Tim alternated between wishing for a quick death and wanting to grope himself. Finally, Damian said, "May I ask why?"

If the words hadn't been rough with clear arousal, Tim would've lost courage. As it was, his hand dropped to the growing hard-on tenting his pants and he rocked against it. "You know. Robin curse. You said nice things about me and now I'm—" He cut himself off with a whimper as his zipper pressed into the sensitive skin. It didn't hurt, precisely, but it wasn't comfortable either. "Plus it's been like a week."

"Turn on your video."

Tim tapped the video icon and propped up the phone where the camera could get a better view. Damian appeared onscreen as he got it situated. He sat propped against his pillows, shirtless, just a gauze pad over the bullet wound now. A flush darkened the skin at the base of his neck. The bulge of his cock grew beneath his underwear even while Tim watched.

"Let me see you."

Tim obediently unzipped his pants and shoved down his underwear to free his erection, sighing in relief. His fingers moved toward his dick, but Damian said, "Wait."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Damian folded his lips inward so tightly they disappeared, then said, "You don't get to touch yourself until I say so."

Tim groaned in protest, but decided to play along and moved his hand back to the armrest of his chair. Damian's eyes glittered with satisfaction. He lifted his hips and angled off his own underwear.

"Very good." He smirked as Tim's cock twitched at the words. "You may, however, watch me to your heart's content." His fingers wrapped around his erection and began to stroke at a leisurely pace, guaranteed to be insufficient for orgasm purposes.

Tim's mouth watered; he swallowed and clutched the chair tighter. “Can’t—can’t you go faster than this?”

"I could." Damian slowed, foreskin slipping back and forth over the head in a tease that had Tim squirming in his seat. "But where would the fun be in that?"

Damn. He'd always been a fast learner. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?”

"Only because it clearly turns you on."

Well, Tim couldn't argue with that. The evidence was currently throbbing in full view of Damian's gaze, intense as ever despite the studied relaxation evident in the rest of his body.

Damian leaned further back so that Tim could see farther down. Tim bit his lip at the sight. Sometimes he just had to internally revel in how fucking sexy Damian's body was in particular. Smooth brown skin with generous, well-groomed body hair, the scars telling the tale of the violence he'd endured and inflicted, powerful thighs, balls hanging heavy between his legs, abs currently tensing and smoothing out as he caressed himself, clearly outlined pecs doing the same while his arm moved—everything about him seemed to be designed to drive Tim wild.

"God, Dami. I'm gonna die if I don't get to touch you soon." His voice was too raw, too honest, but for once he couldn't make himself care. His cock ached, desperate for stimulation.

"I want you to touch me too." Damian tilted his head back and sped up the slightest bit. His other hand fondled his balls, then slipped lower so he could press at his perineum.

Tim grabbed at his own thighs, rocking back and forth as Damian moaned, his fingers rubbing tiny circles just above his hole while the hand on his dick moved faster. "Oh my God." Dimly, he recognized how pathetic he sounded, but that was secondary to what was happening on his phone screen. "How do you want me to touch you? Rough or gentle?"

Damian shuddered. He stopped moving, chest heaving as he gasped for air. "I—I don't know. I want whatever you want to give me."

"Oh, fuck." Tim dug his nails into his skin.

Damian's hand started stripping his cock again, this time with purpose. His feet drew up flat on the mattress, legs spreading so Tim had a clearer view. "Please," he panted.

"I wanna eat you out so fucking bad," Tim blurted. Precome beaded at the tip of his cock and dripped down onto his pants. He didn't care. He wanted Damian to come worse than he wanted to take care of himself.

Damian whimpered, fingertips massaging the tender skin at his entrance. "Then why don't you?"

Tim shivered at the thought. "You'd let me?"

"There's not much I wouldn't let you do to me," Damian gritted out between his teeth. The hand on his cock twisted on the upstroke, rubbing with single-minded impetus. "I—I'm going to come. Fuck."

Tim leaned forward, clutching his chair. "Yeah? C'mon, sweetheart, I wanna see."

Damian arched up, groaning, and spurted all over his torso, glistening drops spread all the way to his neck as he found his release. Tim watched avidly, an echo of Damian's onscreen pleasure reverberating through his own nerve endings.

Damian breathed out, settling deeper into his pillows, and turned his sleepy gaze toward his camera again.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me," Tim half-joked.

"No. Not yet. You want to come?"

Tim nodded like a marionette on its strings, hands spasming near his cock, which was rapidly leaving "aching" territory behind for "real pain." “Y-yes, I—please let me come—”

"Hm, but do you really deserve to?" A tiny smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You did wake me up, after all."

One part of Tim's brain recognized that he could put a stop to this at any moment, just grab himself and finish, but he was having too much fun to let that part take over. Another, sizable portion of it felt like if Damian didn't give him permission to orgasm he would have to go die of blue balls and hurt feelings like a wounded animal. The rest wrestled with the actual question, too overwhelmed with lust to find the right answer.

"I don't know if I deserve to," he finally whispered.

The smile faded, but Damian's gaze softened into indulgent affection, unmistakable and rare. "You do. Of course you do. Go ahead, come for me."

Moaning in relief, Tim grasped his cock and came embarrassingly fast, so hard that his muscles protested afterward like he'd pushed himself too much during a workout.

When his vision cleared, he saw Damian's face close to the screen. He picked up the phone to do the same. "Hey."

Damian's eyebrows swooped down in petulance. "I do not care for sleeping separately. It's highly inconvenient."

Now that he'd come, a different sort of ache lodged in Tim's chest. This was the drawback of virtual sex—the lack of post coital cuddling. He'd gotten spoiled while he stayed at the Manor, being able to touch Damian almost whenever he wanted. "Yeah, I actually kind of hate it."

Damian looked down, like he couldn't bear to see his own face at the moment. "Well. I certainly won't be able to sleep now. I might as well drive to the Nest and assist you in cleaning the remainder of the audio tracks."

That ache in Tim's chest swelled past the boundaries of his ribcage until it suffused every cell in his body. "I think that would definitely be the best use of your time."

Damian's cheekbones pinkened, but his expression remained austere. "Very well. I'll see you soon."

"Can't wait," Tim replied, and barely managed to hang up before laughing with sheer happiness.

days 112-117 here

[perplexingluciddreams]

When you were semiverbal and your speech started to decline more what was a big difference? Like how could you tell?

did you notice or did others point it out to you?

When did those moments where you would “dump” a bunch of words out at once stop?

2nd questiom: you mentioned that when you got aac , you weren’t expecting for your speech to continue to decline to fully nonverbal, did people ever think that the aac somehow “caused” you to continue to regress in speech. How did you get aac, did you convince people somehow or did they suggest?

I didn’t notice, not for a long time. Especially because I’d always had so much difficulty with speech and communication throughout my entire life. And because of my physical conditions declining around the same period of time, I saw less and less people and spent more and more time alone in my room, so it wasn’t noticed that I went days or weeks barely saying a word. A lot of my communication became text-based then, so then the only words I would say often would be “thanks” or “thank you”, or occasionally the name of an object and the word “please”, for example “water please”.

I was half-aware that my speech became more unreliable and uncontrollable at or around puberty (starting age 10 or 11). I would go long periods without being capable of any kind of interaction without having a huge meltdown (I would not interact at all during school hours, then when I would come home and my mum would try to ask me a simple question I’d suddenly be painfully jolted out of my dissociative trance, and all the sensory triggers I’d been experiencing all day came rushing into my brain all at once. What followed, in a rather predictable pattern, is I would be unable to give a proper response to the question, shout or scream words unintentionally, and run upstairs trying to take my school uniform off as quickly as possible, my body slamming doors and shouting/screaming and throwing things without my control all the way. These meltdowns happened almost daily (and sometimes more than once in a day) from about age 10-13, I think.

The other side of the coin to this was when, instead of shutting down all day at school (and in any social setting) to deal with the constant painful overwhelm, my body reacted by instead being incapable of staying still and quiet. This is when all of my scripts and echolalia (both the ones that were created intentionally, and the ones that just somehow found their way into the obsessive and repetitive part of my mind), would come out like a “dump” of words. I remember being very internally distressed whenever this happened, although not visibly on the outside because it was these moments where my body was the most out of my control. It was very upsetting to me that this always seemed to happen when I was around the people I liked/loved the most, and I regularly said things to them that didn’t match up with my thoughts at all. I felt like such a liar, even though at the same time I knew I could not control it. The last time this “dump” of words happened was at age 16, I believe. But it was a lot less than it had been previously, less words coming out at a slower speed, as I was already far on my way to losing my physical ability to speak at that point.

I wasn’t expecting my speech to fully decline to nonverbal mostly because I had no idea what was going to happen. I wasn’t expecting anything, really. I think it was my mum who finally suggested AAC, after we had tried writing by hand, typing, and learning some BSL. I’m not sure if I managed to bring it up first or not, I can’t remember if I externalised those thoughts or if they stayed locked internally. It took me a long time, lots of research, and lots of (attempted, but inaccurate) explanations until I could finally communicate what was happening with my speech, and just how much I was struggling.

Nobody ever said that AAC caused my continued speech decline (I don’t think so anyway), as I really continued to try to speak even once I was at the point where it was just unintelligible noises coming out of my mouth. I pushed it right to the end. I do remember one instance where my brain was STILL trying to make words I didn’t agree with come out of my mouth, and I had this unfortunate script that I picked up from an autistic person on TikTok (it just found it’s way into my brain and I was so angry and upset about it), who said something like “I CAN force it like this, but it’s so tiring”. And even though that was the opposite of true for me at that point, my mouth managed to make those words come out clearer than the rest. Thinking about it distresses me even now, and I don’t think I ever managed to communicate that specific experience to my mum until writing it now. So if you would count that as a “dump” of words, that happened at 16 also, right when I had lost almost all physical speech ability.

- Extra things to add that I think I missed: I definitely didn’t have to do any “convincing” when it came to communicating my experiences and things like AAC, once I managed to externalise my thoughts and feelings it was clear to other people that I was telling the truth. It couldn’t be hidden or ignored by that point, anyway (and I was never a high-masking autistic, I was never capable of masking really. I used to try and suppress my movements and sometimes managed to channel it into something slightly smaller but that was the only “masking” I ever managed to do). When I refer to the “dump” of words, it was basically my already unreliable speech going out of control, along with my body’s movements. And when I use the term “unreliable speech” I’m not just referring to it being hard to talk, I’m using the definition “a person may be able to speak, but not able to say what they want, for example saying “go away” obsessively or repeatedly, when the person intends to say “hello”. Doing or saying something that you don’t want to do, is called “motor disinhibition”. I talk about this experience a lot as it’s something that affects me a lot. Anxiety also significantly impacts my ability to control my body, so if I was put in a social situation it would often trigger this disinhibition, and possibly make it appear as if I was socialising.

Apologies for this being so long and ramble-y, I tried my best to answer the questions clearly. It can be difficult with complex topics like this, as my brain just wants to go on a million tangents!

[honey-on-your-tongue]

u should tell us more about yourself and who’s behind these amazing fics bae, i’m curious !!! (only if ur comfy ofc)

Okok, I'm about to say whatever comes to mind, let's hope it makes sense 🤭🤭

Uh, my name's Ariella, but I go by Ari. I'm 19. I'm bi. I study journalism. My favorite colors are pink and dark teal. I love to read and write and smoke piña colada vapes. I talk in double negatives. I quote random movies or books or memes without realizing other people don't understand me. I make a funny face when I concentrate. I chew on my nails constantly. When I'm anxious, minutes turn into years. I dread picking up the phone. I hate going to sleep just as much as I hate waking up early. I spend hours debating whether or not I should shower and then I spend hours in the shower. I love cooking. I love feeding my food to others and hearing they like it. I fiddle with the edge of the pages of books as I read. I plan everything in advance and end up doing things in my own time anyway. I've noticed my pulse races and my I can see my heart beating when I'm nervous. I'm incapable of waiting for other people to do things for or with me, but sometimes I wish someone else could do everything for me. I have two different personalities: one when I speak Spanish and one when I speak English (the English one is cockier and confident and flirtatious, in Spanish I'm really shy and awkward 😭😭😭). I hate it when people don't let me sing my soul out in the car, and I hate it when people lower the volume of what I'm listening to. I don't like to cook around others because I feel like they're invading my safe space. I love dinosaurs, I've read all the Jurassic Park books and watched all the movies. If I could, I'd adopt every animal I see on the street. I can't stick to a routine, it feels boring, I need to be spontaneous and impulsive. I shop too much, spend too much. I love cacti, I have hundreds of them in my room. I love stuffed animals. My favorite animals are dolphins, and sharks terrify me. I love the ocean, the beach, and summer. For me, there's nothing better than late nights in the summer, smoking on the balcony and writing while listening to music. And speaking of music, I listen to almost everything, my favorite genre's rap, and even though he can be an asshole, my favorite artist is Eminem. My favorite authors are John Green and Gabriel García Márquez. My favorite books are Looking for Alaska, Crónica de una muerte anunciada, and Medea from Euripides. I am extremely persistent and stubborn. I've picked up the habit of calling out old yucky men who undress me with their eyes. I laugh when little kids fall even though I feel bad about it. I am incapable of keeping my bedroom organized, no matter how hard I try, it always ends up a mess. Andddd I think that's about it, cus I've talked way too much 🙃🙃🙃

Also, I'm listening to Drug Ballad from Eminem while I write this

[postconventional]

Take Responsibility & Be a Change Agent

Don’t get trapped in the depressive postmodern mindset that believes that modern Western societies are the most terrible calamity to befall human beings.

While this negation is a vital evolutionary mechanism, that doesn’t mean it’s factually true or immune to a shift of context. This belief makes you feel disempowered when in reality you have enormous power, and bummed out when you should feel brilliantly abundant.

You’re not just a postmodern hippy that hates capitalism because it suits you. No, you’re here to move the tide of evolution into new territory. Without you and people like you, humanity will remain stuck.

So stop focusing on what’s wrong with the present monetary system, and look forward to what could become. Then make a commitment to be an agent in that evolution, deliberately pushing it forward.

Your responsibility is to create a career that does genuine good for the world. That’s how you overcome the problem of having high ideals but feeling incapable of fully living them. I can’t deeply unpack the process involved in creating a passionate career, but I will give you some ideas to guide and inspire you.

Entrepreneurship is a great option given the creativity and freedom it enables you to have. And with the advent of the internet, a portal to the global economy you can access from your home, as well as the sheer number of human beings on the planet and the number of those who are highly developed, creating a fulfilling business founded on high ideals is very doable.

I myself have chosen to go down the entrepreneurship route. In the brief time I’ve been working on my projects, include this blog, I’ve experienced profound personal change. I feel deeply empowered, my self-governance has reached a new level, and I’ve learned several new skills.

The creativity component is exceptionally important to me. My customers and I myself are my only immediate sources of accountability: there’s no bosses or company politics involved. And I can dream of how I could expand what I do almost without limits; my projects can evolve and grow as I do.

I can also be creative with my schedule. I choose when I work, when I play, and when I rest, optimising my choices based on my natural cycles of energy and motivation. And if I need to dedicate more time to my personal development or hobbies, I do. Now I can’t imagine being obliged to spend certain hours of the day at my desk by a boss who has little concern for my levels of motivation or state of mind.

Entrepreneurship also fits well with my personality traits. Among other quirks, I have a growth mindset, high self-discipline, a strong will, and I’m quite introverted. Working on my own, deciding my hours and setting my own targets,  accountable to nobody other than those I serve, suits me to a tee.

But creating a passionate career doesn’t necessarily imply entrepreneurship. You can also go down the employment route. Nowadays there is an increasing number of companies generating their cash through altruistic means, and you could offer your services to them.

I don’t mean charity work or care work, either. I mean high-earning, high-impact work. Freelancing or remote working are also options that allow you more flexibility.