#it would’ve been so funny if he won

[capitalisticveins]

I wanna bring up the way March Redactedness went down SO badly

Honey getting taken down first round and Guy TAKING DOWN HALF THE CAST???

Freelancer beating Darlin immediately??? Milo and Sweetheart winning? So much shit I never expected to happen happened and no one talks abt it

[antibayern]

leroy gets a fucking yellow but when it was jude it was just away and looked over what a shit show. pull through with the fucking fair game honestly im getting mad emotional(angry) sorry

[7seas-of-ryy]

The Bet | Part 2

Author’s Note: I really wanted to make a Part 2 for this!! I have MANY wips right now so hopefully I'll have more for you guys soon :) also I absolutely LOVE all of your comments and will reply to them as soon as I can! <3

Summary: You won the bet but exactly how funny are you??

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, let me know if I need to add any :)

---

The bet you made with Cass and Rhys was the best thing to ever happen to you. A few days after you won, the entire inner circle went out for a night at Rita’s. Rhys and Cass had stayed true to their word and bought your drinks the entire night but the best part was Az had admitted his feelings to you.

The two of you went on a couple dates and eventually he asked you to be his. It was the happiest you had ever been.

You were currently sitting with the shadowsinger, each reading your books in silence when you spoke up.

“Ya know…I once heard a joke about amnesia… but I forgot how it goes!” You told the male with a grin on your face.

He gave you a loud laugh and pulled you closer, kissing the side of your head.

“When did you come up with that one?” He asked with a grin still on his face.

“Oh I just thought of it.” You said with a smirk, satisfied you made him laugh.

“You’ll have to tell Feyre that one, I think she’ll like it.” Az told you.

You nodded your head in agreement and you both went back to reading your books.

---

You were currently in the Summer Court with the rest of the inner circle for some business. You were all looking out at the sea, enjoying the view when you spoke up.

“What did the ocean say to the beach? ...Nothing, it just waved!" You said, stifling a laugh.

Az began to laugh immediately, Feyre joined him soon after. What you didn’t see was Feyre elbowing Rhys and Cass, forcing them to laugh at your joke. Mor just chuckled, seeing everything go down.

The spymaster pulled you in close to his side, resting his hand on your hip. He gave his brothers a quick glare over your head when you weren’t looking and they held up their hands in defense.

---

You were sitting with Cass and Rhys, waiting for a chance to tell them the new joke you learned.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda??” You asked them, feigning a look of concern.

“What, oh no! Is he ok??” Rhys questioned.

“Yeah, he was lucky it was a soft drink!” You told them with excited eyes.

The two males sat across from you with blank faces, not budging even a tiny bit.

“C’mon you guys!! That was funny! Az would’ve laughed.” You huffed a breath.

“He only laughs because he’s getting some from you!” Cass stated, causing Rhys to hit his shoulder.

You gasped and placed a hand on your chest in offense.

"I'll have you know, Az loves my humor!! You're just upset because he thinks I'm funnier than you!" You smirked at Cass.

"She's got you there, she is waaayyy funnier than you." Rhys added, also smirking at the male.

"I hate both of you." Cass deadpanned.

---

A few days had passed and you were walking through the house trying to find the spymaster. You were passing by Rhys’ office when you heard him speak.

“It’s not that serious.” Rhys spoke.

“Yeah, just relax.” Cass added.

“It is that serious, I will not relax, and I will hurt you if you don’t listen to me.” Az threatened.

You gasped, not sure of what they could be discussing that was so serious. He sounded so upset with Rhys and Cass, you were about to burst through the door to figure out what was going on when you heard Cass speak again.

“I won’t laugh at Y/N’s jokes if they’re not funny!” Cass whisper shouted.

“It's really just the puns, they're awful!! I can’t fake laugh at those.” Rhys said in the same tone.

There were a few beats of silence before you heard Az sigh.

“Listen I know how bad the jokes are, but she loves them. You guys know how much I hate puns but do you see how happy she gets when she tells us a new joke? So I don’t care how hard you have to try, you will laugh at her jokes and tell her you like them.” He told his brothers.

You left to go to your room and didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. You felt conflicted. On one hand, you were hurt that he never actually liked your jokes but on the other, your heart melted at the lengths he was going to for you. But if he was lying about something as simple as liking your puns then what else was he lying about? Before you could continue to spiral, the male in question walked in.

“Hello my love, what’re you up to?” He asked you with a sweet smile, pulling you in for a kiss.

You turned your head last minute so his lips landed on your cheek. He gave you a confused look and tried again. This time, you put your finger on his lips to stop him, looking up into his face.

“What’re you doing?” His voice muffled by your finger.

“You don’t like my puns.” You stated simply and pulled your finger away.

“What?! Of course I do! They make me laugh so hard!” His voice got higher the longer the sentence went on.

“Az, stop. I heard you threatening Cass and Rhys.” You admitted.

His face dropped, shoulders slumped, and he looked genuinely devastated.

“Let me explain-” He started but you were quick to cut him off.

“Don’t…I’m not mad. Maybe a little sad that you don’t think I’m funny but when I heard you saying all of that…I think I fell even more in love with you.” You told him as your cheeks reddened.

“Really?” His eyes brightened instantly.

“Yeah, no one has ever gone through that much trouble just to make me happy.” You beamed.

“I really do love you so much… Also I do think you’re funny. I just really hate puns.” He told you.

“I love you too,” You spoke as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “And just so you know, you are o-fish-ally off the hook for pretending to like my puns.”

Genuine laughter came out of the male in front of you this time. He pulled you in closer and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Alright that one actually got me.” He whispered as he laid his forehead on yours.

He slowly leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, a soft exhale leaving him. A few blissful moments passed before he began to whisper.

“Just so you know, I would’ve endured and laughed at your puns for eternity.” Az confessed.

“Would’ve? No you definitely will be doing that.” You retorted.

Az just let out another laugh and pulled you back down for more kisses. A lifetime of puns didn’t sound so bad, as long as they were coming from you.

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[beenbaanbuun]

late w/ poly seongsang

“finally decided to show up, then?” you hear immediately as you throw the door to the apartment open. you should’ve known the two of them would be waiting up for you, seemingly unable to do anything within you by their side. its funny really; despite the anger that simmers through the living space like a pot waiting to overflow, they still want you there.

“i was busy running errands,” you start to say at the same time seonghwa mumbles a soft ‘yeo,’ and you can’t help but pause. seonghwa had arguably been the more hurt out of the two, and yet his gentle disposition always leads him to forgiveness first. you clear your throat as you gesture for seonghwa to continue. whatever he has to say is probably more productive than the sarcasm you were about to drop.

“yeosang,” he repeats, ever so slightly tilting his head to face the other man. you slide the door shut as quietly as possible, although you’re not sure why. perhaps you don’t want to cause any more disruptions to the peace, not that there’s much of that left, “i thought we agreed to be nice.”

yeosang scoffs before slamming the bills that he was counting down onto the chest beside him. you flinch at the loud noise as it echos around the van “no, hwa-hyung,” he spits, “you agreed to be nice. i said i was going to teach our girl a lesson.”

the smirk on his lips causes your breath to hitch. it’s a look you’re familiar with and you can’t help but shy away from it. the last time he looked at you that way was when you’d hit on yeosang’s opponent as a way to distract him. it had worked, obviously, but that wasn’t the point. it had hurt seonghwa’s pride to know that half of the reason he won the race was because of your distractions, and it had hurt yeosang that you hadn’t discussed the plan with him before you executed it. it had hurt them both to see them hanging off another man’s arm, cooing at his every word. it’s safe to say yeosang had made sure it wouldn’t be a recurring issue.

“i don’t think she meant to be late to the race, sangie” the taller of the two coos, trying his hardest to squash the issue before yeosang could take it any further, “we had her up late last night. poor thing must be tired!”

“yeah?” yeosang cocks a brow as he answers his elder, although his gaze never leaves your own, “well, the ‘poor thing’ in question didn’t seem to be complaining when we had her bent over the hood of your car until god knows what hour, did she?”

you flush at the memories of last night, but soon shake them loose when you realise that it won’t be of any help to your current situation.

“besides, you know just as well as i do that the little slut loves it when i’m a little mean,” he pats one of his deliciously spread thighs, and you, being as well trained as you are, begin to shuffle closer. you reach him, probably not as quickly as he would’ve liked, and kneel down between his spread legs. your gaze hits the floor immediately, “perhaps if you weren’t so soft, hwa-hyung, she’d listen to you when you ask her to be on time.”

seonghwa sighs from behind you, but doesn’t say a word to argue. he knows as well as you do that you can get away with murder with him.

maybe you did intentionally forgot to set an alarm this morning, and maybe you had ‘slept through’ their attempts to wake you up before heading to the track, but it was only because you knew seonghwa wouldn’t do anything. perhaps if you were thinking a little harder this morning you would’ve known that where hwa wouldn’t punish you, yeosang would.

as they saying goes, hindsight is a wonderful thing.

“well, do what you need to do,” seonghwa sighs as he grabs his abandoned book from the floor and moves until his back is flat against the arm of the sofa, “just try not to be too loud; this book is finally getting good.”

before you can let your jaw drop at how easily seonghwa is to pass you over to yeosang and leave you at the mercy of his evil schemes, theres a hand clamping it closed. it wraps firmly around your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks to make your lips jut out in a pout. you know there’s no use resisting as he tilts your head until you’re looking him dead in the eyes. there’s a twinkle behind them telling you you he’s going to thoroughly enjoy taking you down a few pegs.

“you know,” he starts, “if it was just the case of being late this morning, this wouldn’t be happening. if you’d just apologised to our beloved seonghwa and accepted that you’d upset him, i would’ve let you off the hook.”

he shifts one of the fingers that rests on your jaw, bringing it to your lips and slipping it between them with a warning of, ‘no biting,’ as he pushes down on your tongue. spit pools around the digit but you’re not able to swallow it down. you have no choice but to stare at him with wide eyes as he plays with your mouth like a toy.

“but then you had to argue and storm out of here like a little brat,” he curls his finger, hooking it over your lower teeth and tugs you closer by your jaw until your nose is almost touching his crotch, “do you even know how worried we were? even with all that anger?” he scoffs as he pushes your face back with force. the fingers around your jaw loosen, and the one on your tongue slips free. you think you’re in the clear, until you feel them curl around your neck. you go to take in a breath, but as you do, his fingers squeeze the sides. your breath stutters, “were you even thinking about us when you were off doing fuck knows what? did you even stop and think for a second that maybe walking around alone in the dark would just make us worry?”

and you have to admit, the answer is no. you were too angry to think about them for longer than a few seconds. now, as you’re surrounded by your two lovers, you realise that your anger wasn’t even placed at them. in fact the only feeling you felt so strongly towards them was guilt; the anger was mostly towards yourself. you didn’t even need to wonder why; the list from today alone was too long to count.

“i just needed some fresh air,” you whimper as you squirm against the hand on your neck, “needed to think straight. i’m sorry now, i am!”

the grip he has on your neck loosens a little as watches you beg for his forgiveness. if he feels a little pang of adoration shoot through his heart as he watches your eyes gloss over with unshed tears, that’s for him to know. it’s so easy for him to see why seonghwa is so gentle with you all the time when you look so fragile, but someone has to put you in your place when you’re bad. if it’s not going to be seonghwa, then it has to be him.

he quickly mends the small cracks of sympathy in his heart before diving back in, tightening his hand once more around your neck. you whine, but this time yeosang holds his feelings back with a cruel smirk.

“oh, you’re sorry are you?” he condescends with a fake pout, “should’ve thought about that earlier, little one. now you’d better get to work. you know forgiveness comes hand in hand with repentance…”

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ten things I hate about you

warnings: longggg as helll and it would’ve been longer too but I cut half the ending and I’ll put it in the next part so the chapters aren’t years long AND credits to lynn painter the story isn’t mine along with quotes!!!

pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

series master list

your day started off great today! your cat mr. fitzpervert left a hairball in your slipper, you burnt your ear with the hair straightener and when you walk out of your house you see your long time next door nemesis sitting on the hood of your car

“hey!” you slide your sunglasses up your nose, hightailing in his direction, making sure you’re careful not to ruin your new floral flats “get off my car, you weirdo!”

percy jumped off, holding his hands up in a I’m innocent pose, even though his smirk said differently. regardless of his current demeanor you knew him since kindergarten, he’s never been innocent a day in his life

“what’s in your hand?”

“nothing” he put his hand behind his back “you’re so paranoid”

you walk up to him, squinting your eyes up at his face. though he claims to be innocent his sea green eyes twinkle with mischief. you knew you we’re screwed because mischievous percy always won

you poked him in the chest. “what did you do to my car?”

“I didn’t do anything to your car, per se”

“per se?”

“woah. watch your filthy mouth, y/l/n”

you roll your eyes, which made his mouth slide into a grin before he said, “this has been fun, and I just love your granny shoes, by the way, but I’ve gotta run”

“percy-”

he turned and walked away before you could finish speaking. when he got to his porch he opened the screen door and yelled over his shoulder, “have a great day, y/n!”

that’s not a good sign. that could’ve been legitimate. you and percy had been enemies since forever, in a war over the one available parking spot. percy only won because he was a dirty cheater, thinking it’s funny to reserve the spot by putting miscellaneous objects in the spot to difficult for you to pick up yourself

yesterday however you won. you called the city after he had left his car in the spot for three days, earning him a parking ticket

you checked all four tires before climbing into the car and buckling your seat belt. you heard percy laugh, and when you went to glare at him through your passenger window his front door slams shut

then you saw what was so funny

the parking ticket had now been on your car for all to see, stuck to the windshield with tons of clear packaging tape. you got out of the car and tried to pry it off but it wouldn’t budge

what a tool

💌

when you finally made it to school after scraping your window with a razor blade and doing hard-core deep breathing to reclaim your zen, you entered the building with the bridget jone’s diary soundtrack playing. when your music was playing this loud it was easier to walk through the crowded hallways, ignoring rambunctious teenagers

you headed to the second floor bathroom where you met annabeth every morning. your best friend was an insane over sleeper so every morning she would rush to do her makeup before the first bell rang

“y/n, I love that dress!” annabeth threw you a side glance between cleaning up her eyes, then opening her mascara and swiping the wand over her lashes

you went over to the mirror to straighten out your vintage dress, making sure it’s not in any awkward position. you catch sight of two cheerleaders vaping behind you, giving them a closed-mouth smile

“do you try to dress like the leads in your movies, or is it just a coincidence?” annabeth asked

“don’t say ‘your movies’ like I’m a porn addict or something”

“you know what I mean,” annabeth said as she separated her lashes with a safety pin

you knew exactly what she meant. you watch your mothers beloved rom-coms every night, using her dvd collection you inherited from her after she died. annabeth didn’t know about how close you had been with your mother, although you lived on the same street for many years, you were never really close until sophomore year. she always thought your love for romance movies was due to you being a hopeless romantic

once finished, annabeth put her makeup back in her backpack and grabbed her coffee. “come on”

you take a last glance in the mirror. “wait- I forgot lipstick”

“we don’t have time for lipstick”

“there’s always time for lipstick”

you search your bag until you grab hold of your new favorite shade- retrograde red. “you go ahead, I’ll catch up”

she left and you rubbed the color over your lips- much better. you tucked the lipstick back in your bag and exited the bathroom

when you got to class you sat in the desk between annabeth and drew tanaka

“what’s the answer to number eight?” annabeth was writing fast as she tried to complete her homework. “I forgot about the reading and I have no idea why gatsby’s shirts made daisy cry”

you pulled out your worksheet and allowed her to copy your answers. your eyes shifted over to drew. if surveyed, everyone on the planet would agree that she was beautiful, her whole appearance extremely appealing to the eye, an absolute indisputable fact. however her soul was the complete opposite

you disliked her so very much

on the first day of kindergarten she’d caused a scene when you got a bloody noise, the entire glass gawked at you in disgust. In third grade she told your crush at the time your notebook was filled with love notes about him (which was true but he didn’t need to know that). In fifth grade, after your mom died, drew sat next to you at lunch, displaying the perfect lunch her mother had made. sandwiches were cut into adorable shapes, homemade cookies, brownies with sprinkles; it had been a treasure trove of kiddie culinary masterpieces

to this day everyone thought drew was an angel, but you knew. you knew all the awful things she’s done

you turned your attention to the front of your room where your teacher began collecting last nights homework. you passed your papers forward and began talking about literary things. you took glances around your eyes until they stopped on a boy you went out with a few weeks ago. he gave you a chin nod from his desk, you returned a smile

he was nice but the relationship wasn’t it. this is how most of your relationships went though. you would see a cute guy, daydream about him, think he’s your soulmate, then you got the ick

annabeth always said you were browsing not buying. she ended up being right- as always. this messed up your prom potential. you wanted to go with someone who would make your breath catch and heart flutter, but who was left in the school that you haven’t considered?

technically you had a prom date- you were going with annabeth. the problem was that going to prom with your best friend felt like a fail. you knew you’d have a good time. but prom was about poster/board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you like in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball

andrew mccarthy and molly ringwald pretty in pink sort of shit

My phone buzzed, snapping you from your trance

annabeth: I have BIG tea.

you looked over at her, but she appeared to be listening to the teacher you glanced at her before responding: spill it

annabeth: FYI I got it via text from kate.

you: so it might not be true. Got it.

the bell rang, so you grabbed my stuff and shoved it into my bag. annabeth and you started walking toward your lockers, and she said, “before I tell you, you have to promise you’re not going to get all worked up before you hear everything”

“oh my god, what’s going on?”

you turned down the west hall and before you had the chance to look at her, you saw him walking towards you

jason grace?

“aaaand there’s my tea” annabeth said, but you weren’t listening

jason had lived down the street when you were little. you’d loved him as far back as you could remember. he’d always been next-level amazing, smart, sophisticated- totally dreamy

jaosn came over and wrapped me in a hug, and you let my hands slide around his shoulders. your stomach went wild as you felt his fingers on your back

oh. my. god.

you was dressed for it; he was beautiful. could this moment be more perfect? you made eye contact with annabeth, who was slowly shaking her head, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered

jason was back!

@fratbrochrisgf @maybxlle @lastolympus @lara20aral

[axeoverblade]

Morales Twin Au x fem! reader

Morales twins x fem! reader

Synopsis! It was fairly obvious you had crush on your long term best friend, Miles Morales. It was also obvious that his twin brother Milo, was a pain in your ass.

PT 1 > PT 2 (current)

MASTERLIST

Genre: Fluff, slight angst if you squint, slight suggestion if you squint

Warnings: strong language I think that’s it

Word count: 3.3k

Authors comments: if you were in the taglist but not @ it’s because someone deleted it! sorry for my long break guys but I’m back, Been a lil stressed but hopefully this makes up for it <3

MORE ABOUT MORALES TWIN AU IN NAVIGATION

E! 1610 Miles > Miles

E! 42 Miles > Milo

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

Miles was irritated to say the least.

Everytime you would come over to see him, somehow his counterpart always got involved. It had gotten to the point that when you left, he would find himself angry with Milo.

Sure he knew it wasn’t Milo’s fault he was mad. Truthfully there wasn’t anything wrong with you interacting with Milo.

But this wasn’t how you two normally interacted.

Miles saw the way Milo’s eyes lingered when you would walk away, a little too long for his liking. Or how you would just somehow always find yourself play-fighting with Milo. And not the usual MMA brawls you two used to have-, no. Just somehow, it would always end with Milo holding you waist and you two laughing, screaming at him to let go of you.

Miles didn’t know why this made him so annoyed. I mean, he knew it was different to see you and Milo being kind to each other, but it shouldn’t have made him mad.

For the longest, Miles knew he was the only twin you enjoyed being around.

He knew how much you hated Milo. You would talk about how much you wanted to stick Milo’s hand in a dish disposal.

But now? You looked at his hands carefully to see the designs of his rings, sometimes even trying them on.

He should be happy if anything, all he’s ever wanted was for you three to be able to hang out peacefully.

But this was too damn peaceful.

Every weekend you found yourself at the Morales home, this weekend being no different.

And just like usual, you were arguing with Milo. “You talk too much” he mumbled as he rolled his eyes, grabbing a cup from the cabinet. You glared at him as you leaned on the counter next to him, scowling. “Boy you know good and well I will not hesitate to pop you in your throat.” You scoffed, taking a sip from your water.

He chuckled, “stay mad I beat you. Not my fault you trash.” He shrugged as he filled his cup with juice, looking at you amused as he put the lid back on.

“You won barely.” You held your thumb and pointer finger up together in close proximity to further your point. “And you got in my way, I would’ve won if you didn’t wave yo’ hand in my face.” You smacked your lips, looking away from him with an eye roll.

“All I’m hearin’ is excuses ma. Just admit I’m better than you will ever be.”

“Shut yo daddy long leg ass up”, you rolled your eyes looking at his figure up and down. The gray sweats and black wife beater combo he was wearing clearly showed how lanky (yet oddly muscular) he was. He smirked at you, “you just wanted n’ excuse to call me daddy”.

A small ‘tuh’ left your lips, “if I wanted to call you daddy I would’ve said so”. He turned to fully face you, walking slightly closer so he was right in front of you.

He grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact with you as he licked his lips. “We both know you want to”.

You stared at him wide eyed, ignoring the feeling of heat slightly raising to your cheeks.

Milo burst out cackling, almost spilling his juice on you. “Your face! You look like a lemur.” He held his stomach, closing his eyes, thinking what he said was so funny.

Furrowing your eyebrows at his odd (and somewhat disturbing) comparison, you rolled your eyes and walked past him. “You doin too much. And hurry up Miles is waiting for us-, annoyin’ ass”

“Wait for me King Julian!”

“Milo swear I won’t kill you”

Another weekend at the Miles Morales home.

This time Rio was cooking dinner. She had assigned you and Milo to go to the small store on the corner and fetch some more cilantro and lime.

Usually, Miles and you would be the ones assigned store duties, but Rio decided today was the day she would teach Miles to not burn the house down with his cooking.

…

“Ew look at that rat” you pointed disgusted, seeing the large half bald rat scurrying around quickly a few feet away. Milo turned his head away from the creature “why would you point that out.” He scowled, walking a little quicker. “Aye don’t leave me with that!” You caught up to him, turning back a few times to make sure it wasn’t getting any closer.

The trip to the store was quick. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes, plus you had picked out a few snacks for the twins and you to share.

As you were walking home with Milo, you saw a small cardboard box with the word free written across it.

With a quick glance at Milo, you realized he hadn’t noticed. Before he even saw that you were walking away from him, you were already crouching in front of the box.

Milo halted realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. Mildly concerned, he looked around quickly.

He spotted you a few feet back with your hand in a random box.

Quickly walking over to you, the furrow in his eyebrows never left. “Y/n ‘the hell you doin?”

When he got closer, he saw the black kitten in the box. He also noticed how the kitten had taken a liking to you.

“No.”

You turned to him offended, “Milo, we can’t just leave it here.”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now get up and cmon’” he lightly tugged your free hand. “Milo what if it dies out here?” He sighed, “The next person will get it. Ain’t our concern.”

You frowned, looking into his eyes. “Milo I can’t leave it. It has no one.”

“Ma, neither one of our homes has room or the time for a kitten. They pee everywhere and they stink. Plus they mean as hell. No.”

…

The wide smile on your face could’ve been spotted from a mile away. It didn’t take much after to convince Milo to take the cat with you two; it now in your coat pocket as you walked home.

He was annoyed at first, but after you forced him to interact with the kitten, he was quick to mumble out “maybe we can sneak 'em around”.

Milo wasn’t going to tell you the real reason the cat could tag along was because he simply couldn’t refuse with the way you were looking at him. Your face painted with big doe eyes and a slight pout made it almost impossible for him to ever say no.

And the wide happy smile that followed after he said yes?

Folded him like a damn chair.

…

You figured out she was a girl, and both decided on the name ‘Mila’.

Though Milo would never admit it, he loved the name. He loved even more the reasoning behind it.

“What should we name her?” You said, staring at her as you held her like simba in the opening scene of lion king.

“Ion know, it’s your cat.” He shrugged, lightly pulling you and kept walking so you could get back to the house.

“It’s our cat, we found her together. We’re her parents now.” You said mindlessly tucking her into your pocket, lightly rubbing her head as it stuck out.

Milo glanced at you. He knew you didn’t mean the way it came out but his brain immediately ran with the implication of having a kid with you. And even if it was just a cat, it brought an unexpected swelling to his heart.

“Mila.” He said softly, looking at you.

You smiled at her, not noticing Milo was gazing at you, “awe, that’s yo name from yo daddy, girl. It’s probably the only contribution he will ever make but at least it’s something” you said jokingly, petting her head.

He smiled at you, lightly licking his lips with a small head shake before looking away.

“Welcome to the family Mila.”

Another weekend at the Morales household and you found yourself in the kitchen.

Tonight was movie night for the three of you, which meant endless snacks and drinks were going to be shoved down your throat until you were stuffed to the brim. Was it healthy? Absolutely not. But does it taste good? 100%

But there was a predicament. Your “assigned” cup was on the highest shelf, and happened to be right out of your reach. You would’ve climbed on the counter to get it, but last time you tried to Jeff damn near killed you for “putting your nasty feet on his fresh cooking counters”, so that was off the table.

Usually Miles would be the one to get your cup because of the location. But when you called out for him to come in and help there was no response.

That was until Milo walked in, a slight hunch in shoulders as he walked lazily into the room. He smacked his lips, “He’s setting up the movie, whatchu want?” His tone, though somewhat annoyed, was oddly soft.

With a quick roll of the eyes you pointed to the cup in question. “Can you grab that f’me?”

He looked at you blankly for a second before nodding. “You know you don’t always gotta use that cup right?” He said amused, seeing the other cup selections that you could reach.

“Yea but that’s my cup.” You said matter of factly, facing your back to the counter so you could lean against it. He shrugged, walking closer towards you. “Whatever helps you sleep at night ma.”

He reached over you grabbing the cup.

His cologne was strong in your nostrils, such a gentle yet masculine scent wafted through your senses. It was intoxicating, yet not enough to be overwhelming.

You noticed the slight freckles that rested through Milo’s neck ran up his jaw. He had a very small amount of soft beard hair he had started to grow, barely visible had you not been looking so hard.

“Starings rude ma.” Milo said as held the cup, breaking you out of your trance.

You looked into his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself sir.”.

Milo was oddly close, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable by any means.

If anything it felt natural, as if this is how close he should be at all times. “You seem to be flattering me ‘nough for the both of us.” He teased, his voice stringing deeper and huskier than usual.

You didn’t miss the small glance he held at your lips, his eyes lingering for a second before meeting your gaze again.

The air became thicker. It didn’t feel nauseating or suffocating though. It felt like a blanket had been placed over your body, effectively making you feel hot inside.

It was a feeling you had only ever felt at the thought of Miles.

Milo licked his lips as his eyes trailed up and down your features. There was an unrecognizable look in his eye. And even though unfamiliar, the way he was gazing at you sent a rupture of butterflies through your stomach all the way to your heart.

“Guys I got the movie on.” Miles walked into the kitchen, his attention placed on the phone in his hand.

Milo swiftly placed the cup on the counter next to you and moved back to the opposite counter. “You guys ready?” Milo asked as he looked up, a large smile playing at his face.

Milo looked at you once more before answering “yea.”

The Morales household was quieter than usual. Jeff and Rio had left for the night on a ‘one night parent only’ vacation, trusting you and the twins to be civil for their night out.

The soft moonlight shined through the window of Miles' room, caressing his floor.

As you were laying in his bed, he was sprawled out on top of you holding you close; something that would happen often at your sleepovers.

Miles had fallen asleep on you over thirty minutes ago; leaving you staring at the ceiling as he cuddled you.

Saying you were bored was an understatement. But you knew he often didn’t get to sleep well, so waking him wasn’t an option.

Letting your state of uninterest in sleep win, you attempted to wiggle his limbs off of you to make leeway to leave.

He mumbled gently under his breath, telling you to ‘stay still’. You stopped for a second, contemplating listening to his drowsy pleas.

Had you not been bright eyes and bushy tailed you most likely would’ve, but laying in a dark room with nothing to do but stay still absentmindedly was beyond even your infatuation for the boy. Sighing out a quick apology and a promise to return soon, you snuck out of his grasp.

Making a split second decision, you decided on heading to the kitchen for a snack.

The home was calm, an unoften serene that only happened in the dead night. It was just you and the JBL that stayed in the kitchen together.

Connecting your phone to the speaker, you turned on your soft Spanish playlist. You decided to take the initiative to clean the dishes that you three had piled up over the night. Even though you created the least amount of the mess.

…

The late night snack you had originally planned on getting had been tossed out the window.

The Music aided dearly in making the cleaning process quicker, swaying your hips to the soft sounds of guitar and humming along to whomever was singing as the songs ran on. Even if you could only pick out bits and pieces of the words they spoke as the dishes clinking was sometimes louder than the music, you mumbled what you could make out.

You were truly at peace.

You were unaware that Milo was still awake in his room playing on his console.

Hearing the soft Melodie’s coming from the kitchen, he hopped off the game to see what was happening. After sneakily making his way to the kitchen, he saw your dancing figure cleaning.

Leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, he watched you attentively; eyes following every movement you made.

Milo knew the way he felt in his chest was beyond infatuation for you at this point. He truly wasn’t sure to be relieved at the fact that you were unaware of his feelings, or want to crumple up into a ball. But as long asn you still liked his brother, it was for the best you didn’t know.

As the song came to an end the humming from your lips continued. Finishing up washing the dishes and setting them aside, Milo crept up behind you.

Placing his hands lightly on your hips, you jolted, startled by the presence behind you. You quickly turned around breaking the grasp he had on your hips, looking to see who had broken your serene. Of course.

Lightly punching his chest, you glared at him annoyed, “what the hell Milo! I damn near had a heart attack.”, you carefully whisper-shouted, in hopes to not wake Miles.

You turned back around to rinse out the sink, expecting him to move away from you, but he stayed behind you.

The soft sound of Natalia Lafourcade's voice filled the room, gentle music of “Soledad y el Mar” playing over the speaker.

Still feeling Milo’s presence behind you, you tilted your head over your shoulder.

“Do you need somethin-”

“Dance with me.”

He cut you off, his hands gently making their way back to your waist. You stared at him bemused, “I-what? No. I’m cleaning-” “dance with me.” He reiterated, “One song, this song and I’ll leave you alone.” You narrowed your eyes at him. You sighed, wiping your hands with the towel next to the sink. “You’ll leave me alone?” He nodded lightly, “For now. Damn just baila conmigo mujer.” Rolling your eyes, you nodded.

A lazy grin made its way to his face as he grabbed your hand gently turning you around, pulling you into his chest.

…

Oddly enough, you two quickly fell in sync. It was almost- nice.

He placed his hands around your waist again as you hummed lightly to rythm, swaying your hips against his.

He nestled his head into your shoulder.

A soft sigh escaped both your lips at the same time. You were surprised as he hummed with you to the cadence of her voice, “You know this song?” You whispered lightly, but loud enough that he could understand you. “Mi mamá plays music like this all the time when she cooks. It’s usually Ismael Rivera, but she has a few different people.” His mumble fell gently into the cusp of your neck. You hummed, nodding understandingly; recalling all the times you would hear Rio play her music as she cooked when you would hang out with Miles.

What he failed to tell you was that his dad would do just as he did when he saw his mother humming to the soft sounds of Spanish serenades in the kitchen. Jeff would whisk her away and dance with her; sweet affirmations of his love falling into her neck. Milo would catch them all the time when he and Miles were in their rooms, usually coming out for a moment to get water but instead ending up watching them silently from the hallway.

As the song neared its end he held you close, the rhythm you two had built slowly turning into a soft rock.

The feeling was oddly domestic, too domestic. It made you wonder- more of a realization than piqued curiosity- if you wouldn’t mind doing this again.

If you wouldn’t mind seeing Milo’s face when you went to bed or woke up in the morning.

If-, that you wouldn’t mind having a future with Milo.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Miles woke up noticing the warmth from your embrace was gone indicating you weren’t in his room anymore.

He decided to get up, thinking you were in the kitchen getting a snack. As he walked out his room quietly, he heard the sound of two voices, your and his twin.

He stood silently in the hallway watching the sight in the kitchen. His face contorted from tired to a very displeased look, jealousy enveloping his body as he watched what was happening.

You would only do things like this with him, only share such loving embraces with him, not his counterpart.

When did you two become so close?

As his eyebrows furrowed, he went back to his room; choosing against ruining happiness that radiated from the two of you,

choosing to return to his bed cold and alone.

BONUS:

As the song ended, Laura Fygis rendition of “sabor a mi” replaced the tune. Milo gently let go of you with a small sigh, turning to leave you alone after one song as promised.

With a quick bite of your lip and a moment’s contemplation, you gently grabbed his bicep stopping him from leaving.

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, “you and I both know it’s criminal to not dance to this song.” You raised a brow, avoidantly asking him to dance with you again.

A smirk reached his lips, his eyes glistening, “Just say you can’t get enough a’me ma.” His hands swiftly lead right back to waist, smoothly joining your footing in sync once more.

“Don’t ruin the moment morales”

©axeoverblade

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[fourstarsoutofnine]

To get away

Chapter 3.5: Chain’s perspective.

(mainly legend)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Warnings:blood, guilt, lots of self loathing😭

“We could just leave her here, you know. The towns are safe. They’re always safe. She’d be better off here than with us. She can’t fight, has trouble walking long distances… she’d thrive in this lazy town.” The vet suggested. In his mind he was killing two birds with one stone. You’re out of their hair and he doesn’t have to worry about you. You’re here, safe, and they’re far, far away from you by the time you wake up. He doesn’t have to feel bad!

“Absolutely not.” The old man shut down the thought. “She’s our responsibility now. What do we look like as heroes of Hyrule if we leave her here? Abandon a poor girl at an inn in a town she’s unfamiliar with.”

“That does seem kind of unfair…” Sky commented. “She’d be terrified…”

“So we let her sleep and when she wakes, we let her eat breakfast then get going. She’ll learn to keep up the pace, and we’ll all give her the benefit of the doubt. She might not be cut out for it, but we’re not just going to leave her.”

“It was just a suggestion..” the vet huffed, crossing his arms.

——————

For all the chain knew, you’d been asleep for a while. It was nearing noon. The vet was getting tired of waiting on you. There were things that needed to be done. They needed to get supplies and get back out on the road!

“Vet, go wak—“

Before the old man could get the sentence out of his mouth, the vet jumped up and bounded up the stairs to your shared room. He burst in. “Aaalright, you’ve had it good long enough, time to get up—“ he ripped back the covers and saw an empty bed. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked around the room before walking back out and running down the steps.

“Vet???” The sailor looked at him with a concerned expression.

“She’s not in bed.”

“What do you mean she’s not in bed? She’s not anywhere down here, we would’ve seen her.” The champion spoke.

“I know that, champion, that’s what im saying. It’s weird…. Maybe she… went back where she came from? She was just kind of dropped here, as she said… maybe as she slept whatever magic that put her here took her back…”

“That’s too simple of an answer. Scour the town, boys. She must have run off.” The old man said

“She probably heard us earlier…” Sky frowned.

“No don’t say that. Don’t blame yourself..” the old man replied, putting a hand on his back. “We can’t do that..”

“What other explanation is there?” The traveler crossed his arms. “We talk about leaving her here and now she’s gone.” He huffed, heading out.

“Wait, trav—“ the vet tried to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but the traveler brushed him off and went to go search for you. The vet sighed heavily. He was right. This is his fault. He brought up leaning you, he pushed hard for it… now you’re Hylia knows where, likely unarmed—you could be dead by now and it would be all his fault…

He set out on his own to find you, that familiar feeling of guilt settling deep and heavy in his chest, the weight of the world on his shoulders, all the horrible things you must be feeling, if you’re not gone onto eternity already…. He thought back to every mean thought, everything he’d said to you… that funny feeling of guilt. Self hatred….

Failure. He’d failed another. First Marin. Koholint… and even if he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he did care for you. That much was very clear. He wouldn’t be searching so fervently if he didn’t. There wouldn’t be tears in his eyes and a pit in his stomach as he saw a group of monsters gathered around something, cackling and jumping like they’d won… he wouldn’t be fighting them off of you so valiantly, and he certainly wouldn’t be dripping tears onto your shirt as he picked you up, blood drying in your hair and on your clothes and seeping into his own tunic. He wouldn’t be shouting for the others so loudly his throat hurt. He cared for you. And now he worried he wouldn’t get to tell you.

[morganbritton132]

Living for conspiracy Steve. You know if they tried anything Joan the Disservice cat would be on the case. You also know Diane clocked it during her looky loo walks and she’s got tea. An alliance is forming.

What’s funny about Steve’s paranoia with the electric company van parked outside is that it’s definitely just the electric company.

If SoMeBoDy would just listen to reason then maybe they might remember the bad weather they’ve been having. They live in a suburb just outside of Chicago. It’s windy and wind messes with powerlines, but Steve isn’t dumb. Thank you very much.

He knows that.

Just like he knows what logo Mike said was on the van that El flipped. And like he said, “It’s spycraft 101. Of course, they’re here after a storm. It’s inconspicuous.”

“Big word,” Eddie replies appreciatively. “How do you know that?”

“I took the SATs?”

“Now the word! Why do you think that they’re tapping our phones?”

“It’s in all the movies, Eddie.”

There’s an unspoken duh tacked on to the end of Steve’s sentence and Eddie kinda loves it. He kinda loves how confident Steve is when he’s convinced himself this shit is real and a little part of Eddie wants to play along, but he knows how quickly it can all go bad so, “Baby, please. Stevie, what are they tapping into? We don’t have a landline.”

Steve pauses to think and then peaks back out through the blinds. He mutters, “You don’t know how wiretaps work?”

“Do you?”

Steve just purses his lips and looks even harder out the window which is just Steve-speak for ‘no, actually. I don’t know how wiretaps works because no one does.’ It makes Eddie grin, sliding up behind him and whispering in his ear, “Don’t you think one of our half dozen nosy neighbors would’ve told us if someone was spying on us?”

“Not if-“

“Baby, Diane came over twice last week because she saw a suspicious car in our driveway,” Eddie hums. “It was our car, Steve.”

Steve relaxes back against his chest a little but he knows the battle is not yet won so, Eddie adds, “Sweetheart, think about it. They’d know.”

“That’s true,” Steve relents just a little and then says, “Unless one of our neighbors is a spy.”

“No, baby.”

“Like a nosy neighbor that’s always in our business,” Steve continues, building confidence. “And who has always been in our business ever since we moved in…and who is talking to the electric company people right now.”

Eddie looks out through the peak in the blinds Steve is making and watches as Diane makes her way down her driveway in her pink house shoes, waving at the man halfway up the telephone pole. She calls something up at him but they’re too far away to hear it.

He can feel Steve pull away and Eddie thinks, damn it.

“Well, that friendship was good while it lasted.”

[taytrashmouth]

Peeta mellark x reader

(The hunger games)

Remember requests are open so please send them in!!!!

It was a quiet day in district 12. And everything would’ve been at peace if it weren’t the last day of the games. That Peeta was still in.

You told gale to call you when it was only down to a few tributes, you couldn’t watch Peeta and Katniss. Not after the way he left.

“Peeta Mellark.” Effie trinket read with a smile, your heart dropped as you watched him ascend the stage. Your throat ran dry and you couldn’t speak, you wanted to call for him but no words came out. Tears streamed down your face as you made your way to the empty aisle where Katniss has volunteered for her sister.

He looked down at me, but not for long. He couldn’t seem to bare it. A part of me knew he wouldn’t come home- I had seen the way those other tributes played.

I stood there until a peace keeper hit me across the cheek and shoved me back into place, I saw Peeta lunge forward but a peace keeper held him too.

When I was allowed to say goodbye I entered the small room after his family has left.

I hugged him tightly and he returned the gesture. “Peeta you have to survive.” You spoke firmly holding his face.

He started to object but you interrupted. “Promise me you’ll try to win!”

“I promise.” He was being genuine.

His hand brushed hair behind your ear and lingered on your cheek.

“You know- since you stood up for me against those boys when we were 12, I’ve never admired someone so much.”

You smiled whilst your cheeks turned red, you didn’t look away though, you couldn’t. This could be the last time you see him.

“You are so smart, and shy but you stand up for what you believe in, even when that means putting yourself out there. You’re funny and creative. I’ve never met someone who loves bread as much as you and-“ Peeta was rambling.

“Peeta..” you tried to question where he was leading in you Mr final moments.

“You’re beautiful n/n…and I guess all I’m trying to say is that I love you.” He looked nervously at your expression. “I have since the day I met you.”

“Peeta I- I love you too.” You smiled and cried at the same time.

“I wish I told you sooner.” He cried too.

“Yeah, me too.” He hugged you tightly.

As you both pulled out of the hug, with tear stained faces. You were leaning into each others touch. Lips barely grazing before two peace keepers were ripping you away. You screamed as they pulled you away.

“You’ll kiss me when you come home!” You yelled as they picked you up.

A boy from the mines ran out of the local bar to inform me that gale was calling. When I saw gale he couldn’t look away.

Peeta and Katniss were being hunted by some rabid hybrid.

You couldn’t watch for a while, until Cato found them and the stakes became a lot higher. You watched Peetas head almost become a meal and watched as he was held at gunpoint. You held gales hand in support as he did yours.

You hid your face in your other hand often.

When the last canon had fired you let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding in.

“They won.” You smiled at gale.

Just as they announced 2 tributes from the same district can no longer win.

You began to cry. And then harder when Katniss handed Peeta those stupid berries.

You dropped gales hand and ran out of the bar. You couldn’t watch him die. You wouldn’t. You ran deep into the meadow and fell to your knees. You screamed. You were angry at the capitol, angry that you didn’t have more time with Peeta. You had lost the best thing in your life.

You stayed there for hours, crying and remembering.

You stayed out there in the meadow for a day or two. Sleeping under the trees. Forgetting about food or water.

When you finally went home in that third day you took a cold shower, wishing you had gone in his place.

In the early evening there was a knock on your door. You swung the door open expecting to tell whoever it was to come back some other day.

But when you saw the boy you longed for you began to sob. He grabbed you tightly, hugging you with everything he had.

“I thought you were dead-“ you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m here now it’s okay.” He whispered into your ear and stroked your hair.

When you had both calmed down, he lead you to the river. Not many people knew about it.

And there it was, a picnic blanket with 3 types of bread in a basket accompanied by some fancy drink from the capitol.

“Peeta.” You smiled becoming all giddy. Running down to the blanket, Peeta followed with a smile, knowing he had made you happy.

“You like it?” He asked sitting down.

“It’s perfect.” You blushed, and ripped a piece of the soft bread loaf. “Mmmm… oh my god I missed this. There is no good bread in the world without you Mr Mellark.” you smiled. 

“It was all an act…” he spoke up. He looked scared. “Me and her.”

You smiled sadly to yourself.

“It wasn’t real?” You asked him genuinely to assure yourself, letting your insecurities get the better of you.

“Promise.” He whispered.

“Then you owe me a kiss, Mr-“ you were interrupted when he pulled you in and kissed you passionately. You squealed as he flipped you into your back, leaning over you into the kiss.

When he pulled away from air you giggled. “I’m really glad I’m home.” He smiled. You laughed again.

“Me too…”

You spent the rest of the evening holding each other, kissing and talking about all the times you missed each other over the past month.

“You are beautiful you know that.” He smiled, holding you in his lap looking at the water.

“You’re really pretty yourself…lover boy.” You teased tilting your head back and looking up at him.

“I hate that!” He cringed.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop.” You turned around to face him. “Lover boy.” You repeated and immediately screamed and ran away. He was hot on your trail. Smiling and chasing you.

When he caught you he spun you around smothering you in kisses, carrying you back with your legs dangling. Both laughing and smiling.

[berriweb]

I absolutely love your work! Can you do some headcanons of both Miles with a S/O who plays soccer and gets injured + their reactions? TY

╰┈➤ ❝ soccer troubles ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. 1610! miles morales/42! miles morales x gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis. both miles’ with an s/o who plays soccer and gets injured

: ̗̀➛ a/n. tysm anon <3333 hope you enjoy

— 1610! MILES MORALES

Miles is the type of boyfriend to constant brag about how good is s/o is at sports

So expect to constantly hear him boasting about you or asking for/about any updates during soccer season

10/10 supportive boyfriend, tries to show up to every game and repeatedly apologizes when he can’t make it to one or ends up leaving early because of his Spider-Man duties

Especially if he finds out afterwards that your team won, even more so if you scored and he missed out on seeing that

That being saiddddd, he’ll always text you while he’s gone before/after your games he misses to keep in tabs or will try to catch up after, which eventually lead to the text conversation that almost gave him a heart attack on the spot after he finished turning over a villain to the police and was crawling back into his dorm room through the window

M&M: just made it home, sorry i couldn’t make it to the game, yk how it is (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ how’d you do?

You: we won buttttt

M&M: ¯\_(•᷄‎ n •́)_/¯?

Miles laughed at first, thinking you were playing another joke you’d occasionally pull to get a reaction out of him, when you sent him a picture of a hospital monitor

M&M: haha very funny (￢_￢;)

Miles didn’t find it as funny when you responded with a selfie of you holding up your arm to flex your new cast while sticking out your tongue and winking.

M&M: WHAT?????

After a very frantic phone call that mostly consisted of Miles freaking out and demanding to know what happened, he rushed to immediately change clothes and sneak back out, arriving at the hospital mere minutes after the call to be by your side

So you’d broken your arm after a horribly painful landing when you’d fallen during the game, and Miles felt extremely guilty for not being there when it happened despite your reminder that there’s nothing he would’ve been able to do had he been their watching anyway

Miles would be disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to see you play anymore for what would likely be a very long time during your recovery, but at the same time would be there to console you if you’re upset for the same reason, he’d understand you not wanting to miss out on playing

Until you’re fully healed, expect Miles to constantly be trying to cheer you up or find other ways to spend time that you normally would’ve dedicated to soccer

This means more dates, more hanging out at his/your house when not at school, etc.

At one point he probably tries to get you to play video games with you and specifically gets FIFA thinking you’d enjoy it

It’s pretty hard to play a game with one hand though, so that idea gets shut down pretty quick but it’s the thought that counts

He ends up spending the entire night playing for you while you watch

Carries everything for you because you’re injured, claims it’s the gentlemanly thing to do but he ends up doing the most and using his chivalry 24/7 as an excuse to spend more time with you

But claiming he was helping you carry your things can only excuse him from being late to class for so long

— 42! MILES MORALES

Miles is so in love that some would assume he’s more dedicated to your own sport than you with how much effort he puts into learning any and everything about it all for you

He wasn’t really into soccer before you, he knew the basics of the game but wasn’t all that interested for no reason in particular, but after you started dating he took time out of his day to learn everything about it

From your team as a whole to what position you play, any team you were playing against, he even memorized the schedule for your games the day you brought it up to him

There’s hardly a single thing that would keep him from going to your games, and if any Prowler business comes up that he 1000% can’t miss, he’ll be sure to make up for whatever soccer event he missed because of it

When I say he’s dedicated I mean he’s DEDICATED, won’t let a single thing stop him from sitting in the bleachers, likely by himself, far enough from the crowd to avoid distractions and watch you the entire game

He’s not as loud as the rest when your team scores and they cheer, but he makes a point of looking extremely proud whenever it’s you who scores

His attentiveness ends up mattering because he ends up being their the day you get injured

There wouldn’t be enough words to describe the dread that filled his stomach as the smile quickly wiped off his face when another player from the team ran straight into you as you switched directions with the ball, one wrong step twisting your leg just far enough to make you immediately collapse and put the entire game on pause

Miles was out of his seat before he could even process what had happened, and before he knew it he was sitting in the hospital waiting room, anxiously shaking his leg while waiting for the staff to let him in to see you

When he was finally able to visit you there was a solid 5 minutes of him constantly asking questions seeing if you needed anything and making sure you were okay while simultaneously cursing out the other team member for putting you in here in an angry thread of Spanglish while pacing back and forth

You had to make him promise he was joking when he ventured into threatening the person, and he did (while crossing his fingers behind his back)

Saying he was upset you wouldn’t be able to play until your now broken leg healed is an understatement, but Miles promises to help you with everything until you get better

And when I say everything I mean everything

His mother raised a gentleman so good luck convincing him to dial it down with the nurse mode because he’s going to be all over you

Walking you to and from every destination, offering a hand at every small step, keeping a protective stance anytime you’re walking near any group of people/crowd to avoid anyone bumping into you, even going as far as to insist he carries anything you try to hold on your own

“You know I broke my leg, not my fingers, right? I can carry one bag by myself.”

“No dice, puedo hacerlo. Give it here.”

“It’s one bag! It’s not even that heavy!”

“Stop playing with me Y/N, give. It. Here.”

“Miles I swear to god-”

You ended up having to fork it over.

Miles might come off as insanely overbearing but you end up getting use to letting him assist you nearly 24/7, at the end of the day you know he’s trying his best (and doing a damn good job at it), he’s only trying so hard to show he cares

[itsbeeble]

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER (pt 1)

SUMMARY: It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

GENRE: smut, very little fluff, a lot of angst

PAIRING: Kevin Moon x afab!reader

WC: 4.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 2

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: insults (nonsexual), mentions of injuries, mentions of what is basically sabotage, kevin is actually really kind of a bad person to y/n yall im sorry, kevin is still stupid (keeping with the trends), kevin is emotionally constipated but so is y/n but she's less emotionally constipated, pining, enemies to lovers, making out, marking, hair pulling, scratching, dry humping, poor attempts at humor, guys i'm actually warning you kevin is a total asshole in this

A/N: Idk why i went the angsty route for this but i'm very very excited to be releasing the final installment of this series. this was supposed to be released on christmas but me and fawn did not give ourselves NEARLY enough time to actually prepare this so we had to push it off. Much love, kiss kiss. Anyway thank you to everyone for reading this collab. This is part 1 of the final installment, so please be on the lookout for part 2 on fawn's page!!

You couldn’t have been more excited to be partnered with Kevin Moon for the end-of-year exhibition. He was kind, he was incredibly talented, he was funny, he—

“You have to be fucking joking.”

— hated your goddamn guts.

You weren’t even sure why. One day the two of you had been just a couple of freshmen, excited to become the best versions of yourselves, and the next…it was like Kevin suddenly decided that he just hated everything about you. He did everything from mocking your solo performances to outright screaming at you for the tiniest of mistakes that not even your professors had picked up on. Your foot was a centimeter too far to the left, your back was arched too much, or your arm looked flimsy. Anything that he could possibly berate you for, he found it. 

“Language, Moon.” Your professor scolded, hovering beside you and gauging both of your reactions. Your thumbnail is wedged between your teeth, and your free hand is wrapped around your waist. Kevin is fuming across from you, staring at the paper with such intensity you fear that it would catch fire. 

“Professor, you can’t possibly expect me to work with her!” Kevin flings his hand out in your direction, and you scoff. 

“You make it sound like this is my fault.” 

“Isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow, lips curling up into a nasty sneer. “Most things usually are.”

“Oh really?” You drop your hands to your side, taking a small step toward him. 

“Yes!” 

“Like what?” 

You’re inches away from each other now, a palpable tension between the two of you that had your professor shuffling back uncomfortably. A few lingering students glanced at the two of you, whispering amongst each other. 

Do you think they really hate each other?

I think that they’re doing this just for show, just like Sangyeon and his girlfriend.

Maybe they really do hate each other…or, at least, one of them does.

“Like the class performance of Princess and the Pauper last year.” Kevin grins smugly, as if he’d won some sort of competition between the two of you. There’s a flash of anger and hurt in your eyes.

“Let’s not remember that you were the one who dropped me, Kevin.” The smugness dissipates and now your “opponent” is standing uncomfortably before you. 

“I— I know that, but—” You cut him off abruptly, and there are a few tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You know damn fucking well that the performance would’ve been fine had you not intentionally let me fall. It’s your fault that happened, not mine.”

“Y/N,” your professor warns. “Let’s calm down, shall we?” 

Her hand on your shoulder steels you, and your body relaxes. 

“The two of you,” she speaks slowly and calmly but there’s cold authority in her tone, “are going to work together on this performance, and you are going to work nicely. I will not be tolerating arguments this time. If you two cannot prove to me that you can work together as a team then I will fail you, and I will recommend you both be removed from the program. Am I understood?”

You bite on your tongue, eyeing Kevin and waiting for him to respond first. His words dug deep into you. It was easy for you to take the blame for mistakes you made, for starting on the wrong beat. But for him to blame you for his mistake? That was going too far. That was crossing a line that no dancer should ever cross (i know nothing about dancing). 

“Understood,” Kevin mutters after a moment, and you nod your head slowly. 

“Understood.”

“I think we should do Angel by Keshi.”

“And I think that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes widen when Kevin says that with his back flat on the ground of the practice room you’d rented. He’s got a stress ball in his hand, throwing it toward the ceiling and waiting for it to fall back down into his hand. For at least an hour, it had been, essentially, a one-sided discussion with you throwing out ideas and Kevin ignoring you as best he could until you threatened to tell the professor he wasn’t being cooperative. He’d proceeded to call you a “stupid snitch” before responding to each suggestion you threw out with something negative.

“If it’s so dumb then how about you give a suggestion for once?” You retort. “Instead of just sitting there moping like a child.” 

“Ooh, good one,” Kevin says mockingly, his eyes narrowing at you after. You know he can see you’re getting frustrated with him. You can see it in the smirk he sends your way as he sits up. “Stings real bad, Y/N.”

“Why are you such a prick?” You grab your crossed ankles, rocking back and forth on your butt. 

“Why are you such a teacher’s pet?”

“I’m…I’m literally not.” Your head tilts and Kevin shrugs.

“Sure you aren’t.” 

“Can you focus please?” Kevin rolls his eyes when you change the subject, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and spreading his legs out in front of him. 

“I’ve been focused, you’re the one who keeps getting distracted by me.” 

Your jaw falls slack. You kept getting distracted? The whole time the two of you had been in this room, he had done absolutely nothing to contribute. You, arguably, were the only one not distracted!

“What if we did—”

“Partition by Beyoncé.” Kevin interrupts you, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“I’m not doing that song with you.”

A smirk, and he leans forward. “Why? Afraid you’ll be seduced by your enemy?” 

It's too late for that. “Nope. I just don’t wanna be that close to you at all. You fucking smell.” 

For the first time ever, Kevin falls silent. His jaw hangs open and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. Internally, you cheer at how you were likely the first person (as far as you know) to make him shut up for a few moments. 

“I do not smell!” He snaps, finally jolted from his stupor when you clear your throat. 

“You kinda do, Kev,” you pick at something on the ground. “Sorry to be the one that broke it to you.”

“Don’t call me Kev.” 

You look at him, and his nose is wrinkled with disgust. He doesn’t look angry, per se, but he isn’t exactly the most pleased you’ve seen him. 

“Sorry.” 

Kevin goes quiet again, and now both of you are picking at the floor. 

“So we’re doing Angel, right?” You ask, trying to clear the awkward air. Your partner kisses his teeth and shakes his head.

“I really think we should do Partition.”

“Why are you so set on doing such a sexual song?” Your cheeks are warm, but you try to ignore it as best you can. Kevin notices, that smug smile returning to his face.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with it? People love these types of performances.” He has a point, but you’ll die before you let him know it. “They love tension between dancers. Gives them a thrill.”

“It’ll be thrilling when they see my fist in your face,” you mumble so he can’t hear you.

“What?” His eyebrows knit together and you smile coyly.

“What?” Your voice is pitched up to mock him, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. 

“We’re doing Partition.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” 

He kisses his teeth again, returning to leaning on the palms of his hands. You lay flat on your back, fingers splayed across your stomach. 

“You’re annoying. You know that, right?” You hear him shift on the ground, and then his face appears in your periphery  A dry laugh escapes you.

“That’s not what your mom said last night.” 

“Don’t— don’t talk about my mom.” You lift your head off the ground, a lazy grin plastered onto your face when you see Kevin’s lips twitching. “That— that wasn’t funny. Like, at all.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t, Kevin.” You agree, lowering your head back to the ground. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. You aren’t funny.” He stands up, gathering his belongings and keeping his back turned. Had you not seen him fighting a smile just a moment ago, you would have thought he was truly angry with you. Or, perhaps, he was angry with you, but the joke was enough to get him to crack a smile.

“I believe you,” you sat up again, following his lead and grabbing your own items. “Totally. Why wouldn’t I?” 

He turns to look at you again, his expression shockingly dull when he meets your eyes. The tension is back, and you shuffle awkwardly in your spot. In the silence of the practice room, you’re struck with the urge to ask him questions. Why he hates you, why he dropped you during the performance. It had been on your mind for so long, but not once have you had the strength to ask. Now, though, you have an unstoppable urge. 

You clear your throat, dipping your head down for a second and then lifting it to keep your eyes on him. 

“Why d—” 

You’ve barely gotten one word out before Kevin interrupts you again, taking long and heavy steps to the door. It’s as if he’d sensed your questions, your curiosity. His timing certainly made it seem that way.

“I’ll text you when we can start working on the choreography.”

Kevin slams the door of the TBZ house so hard that the walls shake. 

“Why the fuck are you slamming my doors?” Sangyeon yells from his bedroom, his voice muffled by the distance between them. 

“Sorry!” Kevin yells back, but he’s not. He’s not sorry at all, not now at least. Why the fuck did he have to get paired with you? Of all the people in the class, why did the professor think it was a good idea to stick the two people who hate each other the most on a team?

“You’re lucky that Sangyeon’s too busy getting his dick sucked to care that you slammed the door.” Changmin peers at Kevin from the kitchen counter, hunched over with a frog-shaped cup in his hand. The older of the two wrinkles his nose in disgust, making his way to the counter and sinking into a barstool. 

“Didn’t need to know that detail, but thanks anyway.” 

“No problem,” Changmin grins sarcastically, lifting his cup as a sort of toast. “What’s got you so ticked off anyway?”

“Some stupid assignment my professor assigned me.”

“Oh, right. The dance one?” 

“Yeah.” 

Kevin drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the base of his palms. Then he raises his head, eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Wait, how did you know about the assignment?” 

“One of my friends is in that class,” Changmin sets his cup down and leans forward to fold his arms on the granite countertop. “He said he saw you being a dick to Y/N after you found out the two of you were partners for the exhibition.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Kevin grumbles, dropping his hands onto the counter. 

“She always deserves it, according to you.” Changmin kisses his teeth and purses his lips. “Why do you hate her, anyway? She’s a fantastic dancer, she’s super nice, she’s really pretty. She’s got your humor, too, so shouldn’t the two of you, like, get along?”

“Y/N L/N is the spawn of the devil himself, and I’ll die before I get along with her.”

“Okay, I get that, but why?”

Why. Why do you hate her so much? What could she possibly have done to make you drop her in the middle of one of the most important performances of your college career?

“She…” Kevin trails off, his face heating up with embarrassment. “She spilled coffee on me during freshman year.” 

For a few moments, Changmin says nothing and Kevin thinks that the younger man didn’t hear him. Then he speaks, and Kevin wishes he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You…broke a girl’s ankle…and almost ruined her chances at ever dancing again…” Changmin speaks slowly, trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of what he’d just heard. “Because…because she spilled coffee on you?”

“It wasn’t just that!” Kevin tries to defend. “She got it all over my expensive shirt, the white one you got me for my birthday back in high school. The stain wouldn’t come out, even with bleach, so I had to toss it!”

“You’re the dumbest person I have ever met, Kevin Moon.” Changmin pushes himself up to stand straight, suddenly radiating anger and startling Kevin. “You don’t fucking drop someone and break their ankle because of a goddamn shirt that I bought you from fucking Target.”

“Wait— it was from Target?” Kevin’s jaw drops.

“Yes? Did you think that I bought a wicked expensive plain white button-down shirt?”

“Well, I mean…” Kevin scratches the back of his head, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. 

“You know what?” Changmin pinches the bridge of his nose, biting down on his tongue briefly. “That’s— that’s not the point of this conversation. The point is that you’re a horrible person. You’re a horrible person and if you don’t get your shit together and apologize to that poor girl, I’m gonna get Sangyeon involved.”

“Why— I’m not a horrible person!” Kevin snaps, and Changmin scoffs.

“I truly wonder what she sees in you.” 

For a brief moment, Kevin stops breathing. In that moment, a series of thoughts run through his mind, thoughts that he can’t even begin to process.

Horrible person.

I wonder what she sees in you.

Who is ‘she?’ Why does Changmin know what she thinks of him?

He couldn’t possibly mean you. You hate him, and he hates you. There was no possible way that you cared about him at all, especially after how cruel he’d been to you. 

Right?

One week.

A whole damn week goes by before Kevin texts you to meet him at practice room 304. To be honest, you would have forgotten about the project had your professor not sent out an email the day prior requesting progress videos to be submitted by Monday morning.

“That leaves us, what, four days to draft at least half of the choreography?” You’re sipping at an iced latte, your back against the mirror as Kevin ties the laces of his sneakers. 

“Something like that.” 

He’s on edge. You can hear it in his voice. Something has him tense and you aren’t entirely sure what to do about it, especially since you aren’t the cause (for once). Part of you wants to ask him what’s wrong, but a much larger part of you is screaming to just leave it alone. For a while, you listen to that larger part. You begin working with Kevin to choreograph the song and while it was a bit awkward for you, you find it much easier to work with him than with previous partners you’d had. You ignore the way your skin burns every time he touches you— correcting your posture, helping you with a movement. You ignore how much you enjoy his hands on your body, however faint his touch is. 

You’d admit that Kevin was right about the tension. The air felt stuffy, the walls closing in on you. It was erotic, the choreography Kevin had created. It was fast, and most of the moves you’d gone through required you to have your body close to his. The audience, however, would love this, just like Kevin said. So, no, you weren’t against admitting when Kevin was right, and you would have told him that at the end of practice. 

Really, you would have!

But then Kevin starts pissing you off. 

Small, quiet comments about how ridiculous you look. Insulting how you do a specific move. Nitpicking every step, every breath, every water break. Sweat is dripping down your neck by the time Kevin officially lets you stop for a while. You can see how tired he is, can see his shoulders slumping and his legs wobbling every time he steps. 

“I think we should call it a day.” You call over to him, and he scoffs.

“Of course you would say that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you set your water bottle down. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kevin spins to face you as you say this, his jaw ticking and his hands clenched into fists. 

“You know exactly what it means, Y/N.” He sneers, standing tall when you take long strides over to him.

“No, actually,” you fold your arms over your chest, “I don’t know what it means.” 

“Then I’ll tell you.” His face is now inches from yours, and you back up a bit. Just enough for your face to not be so close to his. “I think you’re losing your touch. I think that you’re sloppy, that you’re arrogant, you can’t admit when you’re wrong.”

Kevin goes on listing these qualities, these faults, and all the while you can only scoff knowing that those are exactly the same things you would use to describe him. 

“I think that—” he continues, but then you’re interrupting him.

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, but it’s not as if you’d planned to hold back anyway. “You think you’re any better than me?”

“Yes, I do.” Kevin tilts his head with a mocking smile. “I think I’m a thousand times better than you.”

“You aren’t,” you tell him, and he bites his tongue when you pretend to pout. “Sorry to burst your egotistical, self-absorbed bubble, but you aren’t better than me. You aren’t a better dancer, a better student, or a better person.” 

Kevin’s gaze hardens, and you don’t notice the step he takes toward you. Or, maybe, you do and choose to ignore it. Maybe it’s exactly what you wanted. 

“You’re full of shit.” He breathes out, and you can feel a few strands of his hair brush against your forehead. The corner of your lips lifts into a lopsided smirk.

“And so aren’t you. We aren’t so different now, are we Moon?” 

A few silent moments. Bated breaths of air. The tension between the two of you is something unlike anything you’d felt before. You take a deep breath, ready to step away from him, and then his lips are crushed against yours in a furious kiss. There’s no love or care for one another behind it, just a fatal mixture of hate and lust for one another. A build-up of tension that could only be dispelled by the two of you.

Kevin’s hands are all over your body— squeezing at your hips, running up and down your waist, brushing over the curve of your ass. Your own hands tear at his clothes, stretching the fabric beyond repair, and your nails sink into his skin, breaking it and making him hiss in pain. Your lips mesh together, your teeth clacking together and your tongues pushing together in more of a fight than a dance of dominance. 

You allow yourself to be backed into the mirror, too caught up in how good his lips feel against yours, and you almost forget how much you supposedly hate him. When his lips fall to your neck and your hands scrape their way up his back, you want to let yourself forget about all the horrible things he’s said to you. His teeth sink into the skin of your neck, listening to the way you groan at the sting, and then his tongue is laving over the spot, his lips sucking at the skin at the same time. He does that over and over again, practically covering every inch of your throat with these marks until it looks like a wild animal got to you.

“I hate you,” Kevin lifts his face from your neck, grabbing your face in one hand and squeezing your cheeks together. His eyes are dark with so many emotions that it has your stomach churning. “I hate you so fucking much.”

You try to respond, but he just squeezes your face tighter and grins maliciously at your desperate whine. He kisses you again, uncaring of the fact that your lips are smushed together and your can’t exactly kiss him back. In fact, it’s almost like that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to struggle against him, wants you desperate and whining. 

“Isn’t this nice?” He teases, his mouth a hairsbreadth from your own. “Finally quiet for me. You’re so much prettier when you aren’t talking back to me. If I let you go, are you gonna stay quiet?” 

He releases you, and you surge forward to connect your lips in another kiss. Your arms are around his neck and his slide down to your legs, haul you up, and press you against the mirror. You wrap your legs around him, clinging tightly and forcing him impossibly closer to you. Something shifts in the way you move against each other, no longer just your lips and hands, but now your hips are grinding together and you’re moaning, and Kevin is breathless against you, throwing his head back and groaning into the open air. You use this as an opportunity to return the favor, marking his neck up in the same way he’d marked yours (if not a bit harsher). 

“Fuck,” Kevin hisses, hands squeezing so hard at your thighs you know they’ll be bruised in the morning. “Always gotta be so harsh, don’t you?”

“You just did the same thing to me,” you snap back, your body shuddering as he continues to rut against you. Your voice is shaking, containing not nearly the amount of malice you’d hoped it would. You sound desperate, you sound like you want him. Which, of course, you do. But you would prefer it if Kevin didn’t know that.

Too late.

His eyes are gleaming as if in a trance and his hands slide to your ass to drag your hips harder against yours. The pleasure continues to build, your eyes rolling back, and your head falling against the mirror. 

“Thought you hated me,” Kevin coos and laughs when you moan out his name. “Poor baby, so desperate for me you can’t even speak.”

“H-Hate you,” you whine. “Hate you s-so much.”

“I’m sure you do, baby.” He hums, watching as your body begins to convulse. He can feel himself getting closer as well, his dick twitching in his sweatpants. “Go ahead, cum all over the man you hate.”

And you do. Your body shudders, back arching off the mirror as you moan and sob against him. Your hips continue to rut into his, and eventually, he drops his head into your chest, laving with his tongue at the skin exposed by your t-shirt. Your hands are in his hair, holding tightly to the strands.

After a moment, you tap at Kevin’s head to get his attention.

And boy, do you get it. 

As if he was hit with a wave of post-nut clarity, he practically drops you to the ground with a crazed look of horror in his eyes. You frown at him, stumbling back to your feet with legs made of jelly.

“You okay?” 

He backs away from you, nearly tripping over his feet. You follow him, but he’s too fast.

“Don’t— don’t fucking come near me.” He snarls, and you flinch. It’s not fear. It’s hurt. You’re not sure why the statement hurt you, but it did and the feeling stabbed into your heart like a golden dagger. “Stay the fuck away from me. This— this was a mistake. You were a mistake.”

It’s become a sort of habit for him, you think, watching as he slams the door to the practice room. You still aren’t quite sure why it hurts, why your throat feels like it’s closing up and your stomach churns with displeasure. You turn to face the mirror, tracing a hand up your neck to touch the marks on your neck and there’s a sad smile plastered on your face.

It can’t be helped when he’s hated you for so long. 

There’s a crack in your heart, and you wonder if it’ll be fixed just like the crack in your bone from the last time he hurt you.

Kevin slams the door of his car so harshly he almost fears he broke it. The engine rumbles to life, and tires screech against the ground as he speeds out of the parking lot and gets far, far away from you. 

His hands are shaking, so unsteady that he’s almost afraid he’ll get into an accident. His heart is pounding. Adrenaline, maybe. Fear is more likely. Fear of what he’d just done, what he could have done. It terrifies him, the rush of emotions he’d felt when you looked at him. 

It didn’t make sense to him. You were supposed to hate him, to want him dead. Why did you look at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky and painted the moon just for you. Why. Why. You ruined everything. 

A choked sob forces its way up his throat, and he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He doesn’t understand it. Why is he feeling so many emotions from this? He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be feeling this…this…

Kevin doesn’t even understand the emotion he’s feeling, so he decides he won’t bother. 

He’ll ignore you, avoiding you as best he possibly could. You’ll practice alone, that way he won’t have to speak with you. 

Avoid, ignore, hate. Avoid, ignore, hate. 

That was the perfect solution.

Avoid you and the inevitable questions you’ll have.

Ignore you and the looks you’ll send him. The confusion, the anger.

Hate you. Hate the way you make him feel, the way you make him want you.

Hate you.

Hate you 

Love you.

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[amorgansgal]

Not What, Who

Decided to write a little fic based on my post on being an oblivious fuck and how funny it would be for Tav to entirely miss what Halsin was getting at during Moonrise Towers. I've done this with a gender neutral tav and used they/them for pronouns, so hopefully anyone and everyone can enjoy their tav being clueless!

Hope you enjoy!

Halsin x G/N Tav

“Oh!” Tav said, looking utterly delighted and Halsin smiled at them. It felt like they had all risked so much to get to this point, to have Ketheric killed and the shadow curse lifted, he almost daren’t even admit to Tav how much he cared for them, how much he had been won over because they cared for him and everyone else. Halsin had asked a lot of them, he knew that, especially given they had their own worries and concerns. Yet here they were, still talking with everyone who had gathered at Moonrise towers, still making sure everyone was alright, making Jaheira laugh and undoubtedly making half the harpers and flaming fist soldiers want to either marry them or offer Tav a place within their ranks! But it felt like a good time to at least hint to Tav-

“You have a crush!” Tav said, beaming. 

Halsin laughed a little nervously. Perhaps it was just the turn of phrase, he hadn’t expected them to respond like that but then-

“Who is it?” Tav asked enthusiastically. “Go on, tell me! Please! I promise I won’t tell a soul, your secret is safe with me!”

Oh gods, they’d not picked up on the hint at all. Tav thought he liked someone else and before Halsin could even say anything else, Tav was already scanning the room presumably for potential candidates. They leaned their head closer to Halsin. “Is it Gale? I think he’s pretty handsome and he likes magic of course, so you’ve got something in common there. Though I would’ve thought he was a bit too obsessed with books. Not that there’s anything wrong with that or that you don’t like books, but you know, you like being out and about and Gale’s happy with his tower and books everywhere. Hmm, Karlach? I can see you getting on with her and you did say you were good with the larger ladies!”

He couldn’t seem to conjure any words, either to convey to Tav that it had been them he was talking about or to deny it was anyone else. “I… uh…”

But Tav’s attention was suddenly distracted by the return of Dame Aylin and the reuniting of Isobel with Aylin. Tav smiled, “I’m just going to make sure Aylin is alright after that fight, I’ll be back in just a minute.”

As Tav left he caught Astarion’s eye who had apparently been watching and listening in to the entire conversation. The man was outright snickering and strolled over to Halsin. Halsin finally cleared his throat. “I think Tav might not have quite caught what I meant,” Halsin said.

“No, in fact I think it went soaring over their head! You might want to be a little more direct next time!” and with that the vampire spawn went off to talk to Shadowheart, leaving Halsin to gaze at Tav and trying to figure out how he could tell them what exactly he had meant and when it would be best to do so.

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

It had been a week since The Lamb had been summoned to The Gateway in the aftermath of Shamura’s death.

A week since The One Wh-… since Narinder had ordered them to kneel.

A week since they refused.

A week since they won.

A week since…

Since they had returned to the cult, bloody and victorious over their former patron, only to find him at the centre of a concerned crowd by the Indoctrination Circle.

Comatose.

The Lamb methodically tucked the blanket securely around Narinder’s still form. The only sign of life being the rise and fall of his thin chest. Whether the thinness was a sign of his former role as Death or due to his long imprisonment, the Lamb wasn’t sure but it was something of concern.

As was the gaunt look to his wrist, scarred and furless, with long oozing sores up his forearms.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” The Lamb murmured softly as they smoothed out the blanket.

While not entirely sure why Narinder had fallen into a coma, the Lamb suspected it might have been related to the shock of becoming mortal.

The wounds that were so easily shrugged off as a god were fatal to any mortal.

“I don’t know why I spared you. You demanded so much of me and took everything else. Maybe it was pity. Maybe I am just a coward like you said. Or perhaps I’m just tired of all the bloodshed. So many of us have died, mortal and divine and for what?” They soothed another fake wrinkle in the blanket.

They did not regret killing the Bishops. How could they when the four had stolen their entire people from them? The Genocide had started before they had been born and thus any chance of them knowing what it was like to be a Lamb, to know their culture, their heritage, was destroyed before it began. The fanaticism had extended to any who would show a lamb any form of mercy or those who tried to preserve anything of lamb culture.

The zealotry had even begun to affect other species as the number of lambs dwindled. Goats, antelopes, deer, bison, cattle, even llamas, all became rarer towards the end.

Cats, black ones especially, were also affected, being considered an ill omen and too many cats considered themselves allies of lambs to allow such brutality.

And for what?

The prophesised inevitable had finally come to pass. Five became Four became Three became Two became One became…

Nothing.

The Lamb began to gather the old, ichor-stained bandages they had replaced and threw them into a bowl. Cloths they had used to wipe Narinder down followed. The old bedding was thrown by the door, ready to be washed. They refused to allow anyone else care for him with only the healers being allowed to watch over him while they performed their duties away from his bedside.

An act of devotion, penitence and safeguard all rolled into one.

“It’s funny. I thought we’d do all sorts of things once you were free. I wanted to stay by your side. I wanted to show you my favourite fishing spot by the docks and show you where I picked all those camellias in the Darkwood. I wanted to make you my favourite meal.” They were quiet for a moment. “I wanted to know if I meant as much to you as you did to me. Even if I didn’t, I hoped you let me stay. I would’ve given anything, you know, but after everything I’d done for you, after all I had given, you just had to ask for the one thing I couldn’t do.”

The Lamb sat on the floor by the bed and rested their head on the cover, watching his face for even the smallest of reactions.

“If you hadn’t demanded that... If you had found another way… Would you have let me stay?”

Nothing.

Just the rise and fall of the thin chest.

Just as it had been for a week.

Just as it would be for a long time yet.

____________________________

Everyone: Narinder is pissed and tries to assassinate the Lamb when he's indoctrinated.

Me: What if he's comatose tho?

AU where the shock of becoming mortal after being imprisoned for so long causes Narinder's body to be so overwhelmed that he falls into a coma immediately upon arrival to the cult.

The Lamb, while feeling betrayed yet still devoted, decides to personally care for Narinder while he's comatose.

Rumours spread about the mysterious comatose new recruit and how the Lamb spends every moment they aren't caring for the Cult with him.

Some think something happened their leader blames themself for.

Others think it's out of duty and safeguarding since he's technically not been indoctrinated yet.

One very persistent rumour insists that the mystery person is actually the Lamb's lover who was hurt and now they cannot bear to part from his side.

Even when the Mystic Seller commands them to free the Bishops, the Lamb is slow to do so until it offers to help Narinder heal.

With every freed bishop, the stronger Narinder becomes.

Aym and Baal are resurrected and are the only ones allowed to help with Narinder while the Lamb frees the bishops. The only ones they can trust with Narinder.

The Lamb continues to talk to Narinder throughout everything about everything. All of their hopes and fears and plans are laid bare to him. Their feelings too.

(Maybe the bishops also talk to him. Quietly and on the rare moments that the Lamb isn't hovering by his side. Their own form of confessional.)

However, no one has any idea that Narinder can hear every word.

And then he wakes up.

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 18: Ace's Perspective - Prison

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.6k

“You’ve got a visitor.”

The gruff voice from the Marine stirred Ace back to consciousness, but he didn’t raise his head to see who it was. It wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

 He had given up long ago. He had made peace with dying. His execution was in a few days…or was it hours? Time had a funny way of moving when you couldn’t tell what day it was. 

He had fought early on, when they had first captured him. He yanked at his chains and screamed in frustration, waking the entire floor with his rage. Even weakened by the sea prism, he had put up a good fight. 

But slowly, he grew tired. And in the time he took to recuperate his energy, he thought of you. He thought of the baby. The two things that mattered most in this world. And you were safe. He didn’t know where you were or what you were doing, but Ace knew that you were anywhere but in the hands of the Marines. Impel Down would’ve exploded with guards if you were behind its gates. And there were heightened security measures because of him and Jinbe, but not near as heightened as if you were there. 

Plus, he knew if you had been captured, someone would’ve been down to rub his failure in his face. No news meant good news. And that’s how he knew you were safe. 

He was thankful he had abandoned you, as cruel as that sounded. He had left you in Alabasta because he was confident he could kill Blackbeard on his own. But after seeing the traitor’s power, Ace knew that even with you by his side, you would not have won. And then you would be here with him, trapped in a prison cell. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you were here next to him, awaiting execution. But you were safe and sound somewhere miles away, all because of that choice he had made.  

So nothing else really mattered. Ace had been waiting to die since he was five years old. This felt like a fitting and dramatic end. Public Execution. He should’ve been reflecting on his life, but he only thought about you. 

He spent most of his time imagining what it would’ve been like for the two of you to settle down and raise a child. A small house, nothing fancy. Maybe near the beach, so your child could play in the ocean. A little island where the two of you could actually be normal people with normal lives. You could have a garden, and the two of you would sing and dance in the kitchen as you cooked dinner. Your kid could grow up in a normal house, and have friends that could sleep over on the weekends. 

That’s what he was dreaming about when the voice jarred him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the cold reality of his actual future. There would be no slow dances in the kitchen, no garden to tend to every morning. All that awaited him was-

“Still breathing in there?” 

Garp’s voice almost made Ace look up. But he kept his head lowered. 

“You’ve caused quite a lot of trouble.” Garp sat down right outside of the jail cell. “Navy Headquarters…no, all of the world government is a mess. All of Whitebeard’s commanders are planning to move on Marineford to save you.”

Ace stiffened at that news. To save him? No. So many people would die if that happened. He wasn’t worth those lives. And if you were there…if something happened to you…Ace couldn’t breathe.

“Kill me, then.” He still refused to look up. “Just kill me.”

“Can’t do that either,” Garp sighed, chuckling lightly. “I’m afraid there’s nothing Whitebeard wouldn’t do to get you back, even if you were to die right now. It appears we’ve finally angered the King of the Sea.”

If there was going to be a war, Ace knew you would be there. And he couldn’t allow you to die. You had to survive; nothing else mattered except your life. 

“Look, old man…” Ace whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need a fav-”

“I wanted you and Luffy to grow up and be good Marines,” Garp said, not hearing Ace’s words. “But hopes be damned, you both turned out to be hoodlums.”

Hoodlums. Pirates. Ace had never lived up to his grandfather’s expectations. Roger had asked Garp to watch over Ace, and look how that had turned out. If Garp knew about the baby, you would never be safe. Garp had always been a Marine first. If Garp knew, then the Navy would know, and you would be the first to die on that battlefield. 

He couldn’t-he wouldn’t-tell Garp about you.

“Notorious, dangerous pirates at that,” Garp continued, staring at Ace intensely. 

Garp went on to talk about Luffy and his accomplishments at Water 7 and Enies Lobby, but he didn’t mention your name at all. Which meant you must’ve left Luffy’s group before they made it to Water 7. 

He couldn’t blame you. If the roles had been reversed, he would’ve left Luffy the moment the snail call ended. 

“I told Luffy about his father,” Garp said.

“To hell with our fathers,” Ace snarled. “To hell with you if you ever thought we could be marines. We have cursed blood running through us. This was the only path for us. But let me make one thing clear…”

Ace finally looked up, locking eyes with his grandfather. “The only man I will ever call my father is Whitebeard. Got it, old man?”

Garp smirked and shook his head. “Whatever you say, boy.” He stood to his feet and began to walk away, but paused. 

“What was that favor you needed?” He asked. 

No, Ace couldn’t tell him now. It would be a death sentence for you. 

“It’s nothing,” Ace said. 

Garp hummed and looked back one last time at Ace, but walked away without another word.

It was just Ace and Jinbe again, silence filling the air between the two men. 

“Jinbe,” Ace started. “I need a favor. My little brother, Luffy…will you look after him?”

Jinbe chuckled deeply. “I doubt that’s what you were going to ask Monkey D. Garp, boy.”

“It wasn’t,” Ace admitted. “But this is still important.”

“Humor me,” Jinbe said. “What were you going to ask him?”

Jinbe was avoiding the question. Ace knew that. He knew how big of a request it was to ask Jinbe to watch over Luffy. It wasn’t a very fair request either. But it was a better question than what he was going to tell Garp. 

Ace knew it was a risk to tell Jinbe about you. It was a big risk to tell anyone about your status, especially in a prison where he was probably being watched. But he didn’t see any snail cameras around, and if he spoke in code, perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea for someone else to know. Someone who was outside of the Whitebeard Pirates who could help protect you. 

“It was about Y/N.” He finally looked at Jinbe, trying his best to show there was more to his words. “We were close. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Whitebeard’s daughter?” Jinbe almost looked impressed, and Ace was reminded once again of just how lucky he was to have you. 

“She’s been pretty sick lately. Throwing up and such. Has a terrible stomach bug. Just wanted to make sure she gets looked after until she’s better. But I realized I can’t ask a Marine to help with that, you know?”

Jinbe’s eyes widened, and Ace knew he had understood. He trusted Jinbe with his life, and now he trusted Jinbe with yours too. 

“I see..” Jinbe said cautiously, nodding in agreement. “I hope she feels better.”

Ace could see there were a thousand things running through the fishman’s mind, but it was too dangerous to ask it here. 

All Ace could do was wait and hope. Wait for his end, and hope that his trust in Jinbe would somehow pay off. 

And he would dream too. Of you by his side and a baby in his arms.

--

Note: Going to be a little break for me to get everything in order for the final few chapters! We'll resume with Marineford on Thursday, November 9th :)

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598  @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi  @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep  @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein @sehyojae @fanficwriter5 @forgotten-blues @amberash05 @firefistnoct @depressed-but-make-it-cute @stuckinthewrongworld@lizpoir

[nyoomfruits]

ROMANCE AUS #7

Sorry for shouting. Please and thank you.

7. made out while in costume at a halloween party (lando's outfit for reference)

“This is ridiculous,” Lando hisses, uncomfortably pulling at the pink ruffly collar around his neck as he makes his way into the kitchen. It’s already fairly packed, mostly because Lando had tried to stall actually arriving at this party for as long as possible. “I look like a fucking idiot.”

“I think you look….” Alex appraises him, looking at Lando’s ‘sexy Princess Peach’ costume with a shit eating grin. “Well. Like a princess.” Lando glares at him and makes his way over to where the booze is set up, pouring himself a hefty shot of tequila and knocking it back immediately with a wince.  

“Really putting the peach in Princess Peach with those hotpants,” George agrees, entering the kitchen and patting Lando on the shoulder as he passes him on the way to the fridge. He’s dressed as some kind of Greek god, and Lando’s 99% sure he only picked it because it was an excuse not to wear a shirt.

“I hate both of you and I’m unfriending you on Facebook the second, I get home,” Lando grumbles, adjusting the stupid tiara on his head and pouring another shot of tequila.

Alex laughs. “A bet’s a bet, mate. And you lost.”

“Yeah, my fucking dignity,” Lando says, pulling at the back of the hot pants in the hopes it will at least cover some of his ass. He’s never making another bet with George and Alex again. “Anyway, at least I am wearing something original instead of, what,” he gestures at Alex’s outfit. “A cowboy?”

“Ken!” Alex says, completely unbothered, doing a little spin.

Lando snorts, rolls his eyes. “Right. And who’s your Barbie, then?”

Charles chooses that exact moment to swan into the kitchen in a bright pink cowboy suit complete with sparkly cowboy hat and white cowboy boots. “Lads! Are you ready to get wasted?!”

“Of course,” Lando says. “Why did I even ask?” And knocks back another shot of tequila.

--

It gets better, after a while. He’s starting to get considerably more drunk which makes him feel considerably more comfortable about looking like a very scarcely clad Princess Peach, and he’s starting to have actual fun.

So of course, that’s the exact moment George decides to ruin everything again. “Lads,” he says. “I have fantastic news. I have spotted… A Mario.”

Alex and Charles holler like George had just told them they’d won a million bucks each. Lando frowns. “So?” He asks, regretting it immediately when he’s suddenly faced with three absolutely shit eating grins. “Oh, fuck no,” he says, suddenly realizing what they’re hinting at. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Lando, you have to,” Charles says, putting on his big stupid pleading puppy dog eyes. Lando hates him. “It’s Mario,” he adds, like that somehow explains everything.

“Yeah, what is Mario without his Peach,” Alex agrees, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I am not making out with some random dude dressed up as Mario just because you guys seem to think that people in matching costumes need to make out!” Lando exclaims. “Actually, by that logic, why aren’t you two making out,” Lando says, gesturing between Charles and Alex.

Alex shrugs. “We already did.”

“When you were trying to create, what was it? ‘The world’s funkiest cocktail’ in the kitchen,” Charles adds.

“I can attest. I watched them do it, it was hot,” George says, and takes an obnoxious sip of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ through his straw. “This is very funky by the way.”

“Thank you,” Lando says primly. “Still not making out with Mario.”

Alex gets a very dangerous mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I dare you,” he says, and George and Charles simultaneously let out a gasp that would’ve been very funny if Alex hadn’t just doomed Lando’s entire night.

“Oh fuck you,” he says, glaring, before knocking back the last of his own glass of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ and slamming his cup down onto the bar. “All right, where is that fucker.”

“That’s no way to talk about your future husband.”

“Can it, George.”

Alex snorts. “He’s on the couch in the living room.”

“All right,” Lando says, shaking out his limbs like he’s going to run a fucking Marathon instead of make out with a guy that might not even want to make out with him. “Here goes nothing,” he says, before making his way back into the living room.

It’s pretty packed, but he finds the couch easily, ducking behind two girls dressed like Wednesday and Enid before coming to a standstill in front of the guy dressed as Mario. He even has one of those stupid stick on moustaches, though he’s ditched the gloves, the pair lying abandoned on the arm rest next to him.

Other than that he’s. Kind of cute. In a sort of boyish way. He has something weirdly familiar, though Lando can’t quite place it. “Hi,” he says, trying to stand in a way that accentuates his. Something. It must work regardless because the guy’s eyes snap to Lando and then widen ever so slightly, the light flush he had on his cheeks – probably from the heat – darkening considerably.

“Lando,” he blurts out, and Lando falters a little because huh. So he does know this guy. That’s a little. It’s probably not a great start to trying to woo him, not remembering who he is. The guy must notice Lando’s confusion because he adds. “Oscar? You’re in my econ 101 lecture.” His eyes dart away and then back again, lingering for a moment on Lando’s thighs, that are very prominently on display.

“Right!” Lando says, though he doesn’t specifically remember Oscar. “Monday 8am. My favorite class.”

Oscar laughs, a loud, sharp thing that sort of seems to startle out of him, folding his body ever so slightly forward as he does so. “Yeah, that one,” he says, and he seems a little tense now, his shoulder dropping ever so slightly.

“Where’s Luigi?” Lando asks, changing the topic before he has to reveal he still doesn’t technically remember Oscar, nudging Oscar’s cap with his hand, watching Oscar’s eyes widen when Lando leans in a little closer.

“Oh, uh. Fucked off,” Oscar says, blushing slightly. “He uh. There was this girl, so.”

“Ah,” Lando says, nodding. “Daisy.”

Oscar’s brows knit together in a decidedly cute way. “Daisy?”

“Yeah,” Lando says. “You know. Daisy, Luigi.” He gestures between them then, “Mario. Peach.”

“Right,” Oscar says, blushing impossibly more. “Right, yeah. Mario and Peach.”

“Exactly!” Lando says, and then, because he’s getting signals, and because Oscar has been trying very had not to stare at Lando’s. Everything. For the past five minutes, he sits down. In Oscar’s lap. “Peach and Mario,” he says, as Oscar flails a little and seems to have some kind of internal panic about where to put his hands.

Lando solves it by grabbing them and putting them on the flimsy little waist of his body suit. Oscar lets out a slow shuddering breath as he glances up at Lando with wide eyes, but leaves his hands on Lando’s waist, as Lando readjust himself, puts a knee on either side of Oscar’s thighs. “As I was saying,” he says. “Mario and Peach.” And then he takes Oscar’s face in his hands, takes off the stupid moustache, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Oscar makes a tiny little noise in surprise, fumbling a little as their teeth clack together, but then suddenly something in him seems to snap, and he kisses back. His hands are suddenly everywhere, from Lando’s waist to his back to his ass, squeezing down in a way that makes Lando moan into his mouth, an opportunity which Oscar uses to slide his tongue into Lando’s mouth, kissing him like a man starved.

Lando lets his hands slide from the sides of Oscar’s face into his hair, knocking the Mario hat off and tugging ever so slightly, eliciting a delicious little moaning noise from Oscar that he swallows eagerly. It goes on like that for a bit, each of them giving as good as they get, when Lando finally pulls away, breathing a little heavily.

Oscar looks equally debauched, breathing heavily, eyes wide and hair messy. He looks… He looks fucking hot, and Lando vows to pay more attention in econ 101, next time.

“Mamma Mia,” Oscar breathes out, in a terrible Itatlian accent, and there’s a little twitch to the corner of his mouth, even though his words are incredibly deadpan, and it startles a laugh out of Lando. Hot and funny. Yeah, Lando’s definitely going to start paying more attention.

But for now, he presses his lips back to Oscar’s, and sends a small little thank you to that bet he lost. Maybe he should start losing them more often, if it gets him this.

[codfanficedits]

Final tribute

If you're looking for a sign to stay alive, this is it.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

Summary: Suicide.

Wordcount: 4968| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: SUICIDE, mentioning of self-harm, mentioning of shoplifting, mentioning of a fucked up childhood.

A/N: Today (third of November) marks the 9 years anniversary of my best friend killing herself. It has taken me years to come over the guilt, and even 9 years later I still wonder if I could've prevented this. But I couldn't and she is gone. In a way I hope she'll live forever through me and my stories. We were teenagers, having to cope with shit that adults couldn't even cope with. I love you and even though you'll always stay 19 you're still my best friend. Until we meet again. A/N 2: If you're struggling yourself. Please know that life will be worth it, the sun will shine on you too one day, and you'll find the joy in life once more. I've struggled with suicidality and sometimes I still do. But. It. gets. better. I promise.

The silence lingers in the air as he sits on the chair next to your bed. You’re sleeping, getting some much deserved rest, but he can’t help but be angry at you. Angry for attempting, angry for not sharing what was going through your mind, angry at the professionals, for just letting you go again. But his anger gets replaced by guilt as he watches you sleep. Because if you were to die, it would’ve been his fault, at least to Simon.

Except that it wasn’t his fault. You just weren’t made for life and you knew it. Depression had been weighing you down since your teenage years, following you like a ball and chain into adulthood. No matter how much you tried, how hard you tried to fight it, it was a losing battle. A cruel dance with fate. Simon’s eyes wander around the self-harm scars that cover your body, a reminder of your battle, a reminder of every time your mind won the battle against your will to live.

As Simon’s guilt deepens, tears fall from his eyes. You always used to tell him “a cry a deep keeps the demons away.” So, he cried. You had always used your humour as a shield to cope, as a shield to keep people out of the dark abyss of your mind. No one would suspect a thing if you just kept joking about it.

It was a painful realisation – the guilt, but also the truth in those words. It was what he missed most about you, your smile, your warmth, your kindness. He misses your wisdom the most. Maybe if he had tried to understand you more, none of this would be happening. His heart ached with regret and longing.

Simon felt lost. He remembered your humour, but he could never make the thoughts leave his head. How you were always so lively and funny, but had suffered in silence for so long.

This had worried you the most. Not the dying alone part, you had made peace with dying alone a long time ago. But the failing of your plan, and how it would hurt the people around you.

He knew you hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he didn’t think he could find the way to forgive you yet. As for himself, he felt he could never forgive himself for not noticing earlier. How close you had been to death. How far he had allowed this to go, without a single moment’s notice. Not that this would’ve changed anything for you, you would’ve done it either way. With or without him noticing. The depression that had been brewing in you for more than a decade was a ticking time bomb, being set off without anything mayor happening. But this had been a messy attempt, your mind too crowded to think properly, the pain of being alive too much to bear. So you had made mistakes, mistakes that caused your attempt to fail. Mistakes that would make you hate yourself even more. Mistakes that would be carved into your skin the moment you had the chance. Simon couldn't help but feel your attempts to hide your depression had been his fault. Had he not made you believe you had to? Or was this merely some cruel trick his mind was playing on itself? He wanted to hold your hand so badly, to feel your warmth, to tell you he loved you. But you were sleeping. His guilt consumed him. He began thinking of every moment you had been depressed, every instance he hadn't helped, every time he hadn't noticed a thing. But truth be told, you would never had let him help you, your depression had been weighing you down, pulling you under the surface while you desperately tried not to drown.

But drowning is a silent thing to do.

And you, you felt as if the whole world had to be carried on your shoulders. Professionals had failed you, and friends were not made to carry such a heavy load. So you carried it all by yourself, allowing yourself to slip under the surface of the water. Simon was terrified. The idea of you suffering in silence hurt him more than he ever imagined it would. He wanted to tell you how much you affected the lives of those around you. How he had looked up to you for your wisdom, your humour, your honesty. How you had brightened his days just by being there. He also wanted to say how sorry he was for not noticing your depression sooner. But you weren't awake. So he stayed beside your bed, waiting. Hoping. Praying that you would live.

The disappointment of being alive would wash over you soon enough, and you would have to live with that disappointment, a disappointment to yourself and your friend. Your eyes flutter as you begin to wake up, the sunlight burning through your closed eyelids, the pain you feel a reminder that you’re alive. But you don’t want to open your eyes. You can’t face reality, not yet. A wave of relief washed over Simon as he felt you stir. He was still angry, worried, confused, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He reached for your hand, wanting to hold on to the life he had thought he lost. Wanting to hold on to you. Wanting to let you know just how much you meant to him.

"Don't leave me again."

You can’t answer him, not yet. You have to deal with the disappointment of being alive first, before you can tend to him.

Fuck

How you wished you were dead, how you wished that you had succeeded, how you wished you had finally found your peace. You turn to your side, curling up as a ball, the sobs that leave your lips are raw, violent even. As if your soul got broken open and you can’t stop your feeling from pouring out. As Simon watched you curl up into a ball, his heart ached. He could feel your hurt, your anger, your pain, and wished he could take it away from you. And he felt you needed this, this release, this raw feeling. But he also understood how much you disliked your existence. How unfair this life had been to you. How many times you had been disappointed by it all. By other people, probably. But he hoped in the end, you would know how much he appreciated and cared for you. Your tears didn’t stop, by all means they just poured harder, more violent. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you have to be alive? Your feelings turn into anger, angry at yourself for failing, for staying alive, angry at the universe for playing these cruel tricks. “Fuck, Simon.” You sob. “I can’t do this.” Simon felt his anger dissipate, replaced by worry. He couldn't see you this way. So hurt. So depressed. So angry at the world, at life. That anger had always been the first thing he thought of when he pictured you, but not like this. Not the world's anger. Your own. "Hey hey, it's alright." He sat down next to you. "We can get through this together. Just me and you, like always." And that was when, for a moment, he almost believed it.

But you can’t, you don’t want to. You had been trying to get through it, with him, without him. But you’re tired. Tired of trying not to drown when the world is pulling you under. So, so, so tired. “I don’t want to, Simon.” You whisper and your voice sounds tired, as if you’ve been up for days. “I can’t fight anymore.” "Stop." he whispered, his heart aching. This wasn't the reality he wanted to admit, but it was one that was hard to deny. "Please, can't you see how many people care about you? I'm not talking about friends and family, I'm talking about me. Don't you think seeing you like this hurts me?" He knew you were tired. He knew you wanted to just disappear from the world of pain and suffering. And so he tried one last time. "Don't disappoint me." You squeeze his hand, to the point that your own hand starts to hurt from the power. You could see the pain in his face. The pain you had caused. And the guilt hit you like a ton of bricks. You feel so selfish, like you always have been.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through this.” "Stop... stop apologizing." He felt you squeeze his hand, and took it as a sign of hope. Perhaps there was still a chance, even at your lowest, to fight for life. "I'm your friend. I'll always fight with you, even when you can't fight anymore. Especially then. Maybe we can learn how to fight this together." He hoped it wasn't too far gone. He didn't want to lose you to the darkness. But what would you do if it wasn’t apologizing? It was all you did. Apologizing for existing, apologizing for not being good enough, apologizing for being depressed. For being alive. You give his hand a softer squeeze. “Thank you, Simon.” You mumble. “Thank you for being here, and I’m sorry if I’ve let you down.” "You've never let me down," he whispered back. His eyes were soft, and his expression gentle. All the anger, guilt and disappointment had vanished. He was thinking of you, how hard you had tried — harder than most would. He knew this. He felt this. He couldn't blame you for wanting an escape. An escape he wished he could provide.

"Don't you see? You're the strongest person I know. You're the last person to need to apologize."

His words. No matter how kind they were. They didn't register. You understood them, they were words you could even tell to others. But those words weren't meant for you. Not to someone like you.

So you laid there, curled up in a ball, the disappointment of being alive weighing on you. But they were meant for you. They were for you. Because even when you felt broken, he saw you as strong. When you were tired, you were resilient.

"Let me come a little closer." Simon shifted closer, trying to place his hand on your arm. He wanted to hold on. He wanted to feel you. Your warmth, your touch, your comfort in his hand.

You were hurt, but he wanted to hold that warmth, hold on to you. Because it felt like a treasure to him.

"Rest," he told you. And he meant it; he wanted you to take a break. You were so tired, so full of self-destruction.

He stayed with you in that bed, even as he felt your strength slip away. He wouldn't leave you until he was sure you could fight back. You would fight back, and he would do whatever he could to help you, to make the world a more bearable place. To give the light inside your soul room to heal.

And so your first attempt ended like this. With Simon holding you.

But you were broken, broken beyond repair, and one attempt turned into two, turned into three. All while Simon's life just continued. His missions, his deployments. And there you were. Feeling like a burden again. Simon felt his heart sink with each attempt, his anger growing with each disappointment. It made him feel powerless, unable to help you get better. To show you how much the world needed you. How much he needed you. "Not again..." His voice trembled with tears, a look of desperation on his face. He wanted you to recover, but felt hopeless. He felt that maybe he had already failed you, but didn't dare think it. Because if there was a chance for you to survive... he wanted you to take it. It must've been exhausting for him too. Not knowing if a call from you was just to catch up, or if he would hear just sobs, and rambling about how you couldn't take it anymore. How he had spent hours and hours talking to you. Unable to cope with the guilt of something would've happened to you.

But he was only human, and humans can only take so much.

You look at your phone. Tears streaming down your face as you had called him. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing..." He sighed. "I can't take this anymore. You can't keep doing this. Can't keep hurting yourself, can't keep hurting others, can't keep hurting me."

He didn't want to shout, but for the first time his anger began to surface. He wanted to see you get better, but his hopes were dwindling. "Just... please." Simon was at a loss of words. "How can I make you feel better about all this? What do you need?"

His anger was justified. In your attempt to stay longer on this earth you were dragging him along your misery.

"I'm sorry!" You repeat again, as the tears roll down your cheeks. "I don't know Simon." You hated that you had called him, once again. He was on deployment, unable to help you.

"Can you let me go?"

Simon felt his stomach knot. "Absolutely not." He knew his anger could hurt you, but had to hold on to his hopes of saving you. Because he had promised himself he wouldn't let you escape like this.

"No. No way." He let his voice raise, his anger making him feel stronger. "I am not letting you go." He would not hurt you further, but he would also not let you give up. He had to try.

A decision was made.

And you took a deep, deep breath. "Right." You mutter. "I'm sorry, again."

You wipe away your tears. "I know you're busy. And I really don't want to bother you. But can we just talk? Talk about our time at high school?" "Always." Simon smiled softly as the knot in his stomach disappeared. He felt more hopeful now that he had gotten your attention, and felt his anger melt away. "You know you're never a bother. How I wish the only thing I had going on was to speak to you." He tried to joke, but his concern for you clouded his humour.

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind. High school. Any memories."

A soft sigh left your lips. You could hear his concern. You could hear your heart crumble when he joked about all the things that were going on, and how you were just another add on to that pile. But you pushed it away. This phone call had to turn into a light one. One without more worries.

"Remember how we met?" You ask. "In our self-defence class. You were brand new and I was a black belt. We hit off immediately, and then it turned out we went to the same high school." A smile formed on your face. Better times.

"I remember us secretly smoking behind the building." You snicker. Simon's smile broadened, the memory coming back to him as if they were there a second ago.

"I've always wondered what would have happened if I didn't go to that class." The smile faded again, replaced by thoughtfulness, as Simon considered how different his life would have been. He likely would have never met you. "I wasn't as tough as you remember, I was just taller." He chuckled. "I remember my first day, and you told me about your past. And you asked me about my life — which I was very quiet about then. What else do you remember?" You can’t help but chuckle. "Yeah we definitely did some trauma bonding. Two people with a fucked up childhood."

You clear you throat. "I'm glad we both managed to escape our homelife."

At the mention of trauma bonding, the smile dropped from Simon's face. It was true, it was how you had bonded. And it was one of the worst ways to bond. But he knew you were still thinking about it, and didn't want to change the mood of the call. "Don't think about that," he said. "Come on now, we can't let a shitty childhood ruin our lives." He was one to talk. Running away at eighteen to join the military. You both knew that your childhood would haunt, till the end of times. But you dropped the subject. Not in the mood to ruin this phone call. "Yeah yeah." You mutter.

"I remember you sneaking out of school to shoplift a can of coke." You laugh. "I was so goddamn worried you'd get caught." "Not as worried as me." Simon laughed. "I didn't get caught, though. So my criminal record is still clean... for now." "Although it is a miracle you never got caught. I don't think I've paid for a single can of coke in my last year of high school, thanks to you."

Simon felt his spirits lift, as he recalled all the stolen sodas you and him had split. It had gotten harder to sneak them in as you went up the year grades, but you had enjoyed those stolen moments of sweetness together.

For a few moments, it was as if you were still in those high school halls. Stealing drinks, telling each other about your past, and trying to escape your family life by spending all your time together. But now you were far apart, and there were other problems in your lives. Life had changed. "God. We were idiots." You sighed. "The amount of times we skipped school just to hang in the park and smoke."

"I still don't get how we graduated." You add with a smile, the phone call was helping to take your mind off things.

"We were almost too late for our math final." "We were extremely late for our maths final," he corrected. "But it got us through, didn't it?" He chuckled nervously, thinking of how close you came on several occasions to being kicked out.

"We weren't idiots. Life was just hard." He sighed, his eyes growing softer with each word, "We just needed to find ways to escape. And somehow, we made it." He knew you were feeling better, and thought for a moment. Perhaps he did want to push you a bit, to help you heal.

Of course you remembered, life had been hard for the both of you, yet somehow he had managed better.

"Somehow we made it." You repeat. "Thanks for staying on the phone with me, Simon. I know you're busy, and I'm feeling better right now. I'll keep you updated through text, okay?" "The day you don't call me on your lowest is the day you stop being my friend." Simon tried to joke. He wanted to lighten the mood, but also make you feel wanted. It was important to him that you did not feel like a burden.

"And don't apologize. Your emotions are the most important to me... don't push them away. I just wish I could be there to hold you through it all."

"You don't have to rush." Simon added, a sense of finality to his words.

"You staying on that call meant more than you'll realise." You said. "I'll text you soon okay? Take care Simon."

You ended the call, with a soft smile. Outgoing call: 57 minutes and 26 seconds. It did you more good than you had expected.

Simon sighed. Although it had been a long call, it felt like it had gone by in a flash. He kept thinking about that joke he made, about the day you stopped calling him on your worst days. And how he didn't want that day to ever come.

He knew you had been hurt too much in your life, so he was happy to keep being with you. To keep talking, to keep lifting you up again. He thought he had succeeded, too. Maybe you wouldn't try to hurt yourself again.

"I'll talk to you later." He muttered to himself.

You did feel better. Your house got cleaner, you started going out more. No longer calling in sick to your job that often.

You snapped a pick of a sunrise, sending it to Simon. "Made me think of you." You texted before you went on with your day. A little check in to let him know you were okay. He smiled as he read the message, feeling his heart lift as he read it. It was more than just a little message to Simon. It was what he needed to see, to know you were recovering, and happy. To know that all of the time and effort he put into helping you was paying off. He wanted to tell you right now that he was proud of you, that he was happy for you. But maybe you didn't need that yet. So, he kept it to himself for now. He responded with a simple "Thanks" message.

You did it every day. Usually in the morning. Sunrises. A flower. A dog. Anything that made you happy. And he usually responded with a "Thanks." But that was enough for now.

Your therapist applauded it, and that made you happy too.

You crouched down during one of your walks. Making a picture of one of the first fungi you had spotted during her walk. You send the picture to Simon.

"First one! When is your next deployment?"

Simon was glad for the daily pictures, and did his best to keep it up. He wanted you to feel like you were important to him, so he had to try and be more attentive to your messages. He stopped in the hallway as he read your latest message.

"Uh, this weekend. For three weeks." He texted.

He wondered if he should say more, but did not want to overwhelm you. He was happy already. You were alive, and looking at flowers and fungi. You were feeling better.

Ah. Three weeks. You knew he didn't have any service while deployed. Something with safety and all that. But you didn't mind. The cold November air hit your face, and it made you feel alive. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs.

"That sucks :(. I'll keep sending you the nice things I find on walks, even if you can't see them right away." You texted back.

Simon was glad you understood, and didn't want you to think he didn't care. He tried not to think about the length of the deployment, or the fact that he would likely not be able to talk to you for three weeks. But it didn't matter, because you were recovering.

"Send whatever photos you want, I won't be able to respond, but I will love looking at them." He texted. "Three weeks go by faster than you'd think. I'll be home before you know it."

You did the math. He would be gone on the first of November. And he would be back around the 22nd.

"Do you think you'll be home for Christmas? It’s been a while since we celebrated together." You texted him back.

Your text felt like a punch to the gut. It was true, it had been a while since you had celebrated Christmas together. Your last Christmas together had been two years ago, and it had been an awkward one at that.

Simon tried to put on a brave face. "I'm going to try." He texted. "If I'm lucky, I'll be back late December... maybe even early." He wondered if you would take these answers well, or if he had just made things worse.

"That's great. We'll work the details out when you're back from deployment, no worries." You texted back. There was a light spring in your step as you walked to your job. As if the weight of the world had fallen off your shoulders. "I'll text you tomorrow before you leave for your mission :)"

"Sounds good." Simon was glad to see you in high spirits again. "Talk to you soon."

You and Simon continued to exchange photos for the remainder of the week. He sent you images of training exercises, and you sent him photos of birds, and flowers. It was the highlight of both your days. On Saturday morning, the day before Simon was to depart for the mission, he sent you a voice message. He was standing in his room, as he talked.

"Hey. How are you today?" Some days you just exchanged pictures. The others you had whole conversations. But that was okay, you understood he was busy, and you didn't need his attention all of the time. You smiled when you got his voice message, it was nice to hear his voice again.

"Simon! I'm good, best I've been in a while." You answered through a voice message. "How are you? What time are you leaving?"

"I'm glad." That was always Simon's response, when he heard you were doing 'well.' He had grown to love seeing your photos, and the few conversation you had together throughout the week kept him going. He sounded excited when he spoke, and you could hear a little of the anticipation in his voice.

"Leaving in 20 minutes." He sent. "I'm feeling pretty good, to be honest. A little nervous, but I'm looking forward to the mission."

"You're a good soldier, Simon." You responded through your voice message. "Those three weeks will be over in no time, and when you're back we can go plan Christmas. In the meantime. I'll send you my daily pictures, so you have something to look at when you get back." You added in another voice message

Simon smiled when he heard you call him a good soldier. It felt nice, to be recognized. And to be seen.

He sent back one message that simply said, "Thanks."

He got ready for the mission, grabbing his gear and getting into his squad vehicle.

As he drove in quiet, he thought about planning Christmas. It felt nice, looking forward to things. Maybe you and him could go on a little trip, or do something fun together.

He was optimistic, and couldn't wait for the next three weeks to be over.

On November first you send him a picture of a sunset.

"Reminds me of you. I miss you :)"

But you got no answer, knowing he was out in a mission and had no reception.

On November second you send him a picture of a dandelion, a cat, and the moon.

"Even though we're apart we're looking at the same moon."

And again you got no answer, but you knew he had no reception.

On November third you send him a selfie, a smile on your face.

"I will miss you Simon. Take care. I will always love you. You've been a great friend. You've been my best friend."

On November third you put your phone back on your desk before you left your home. The walk to the train station was short. You had led them all on, but it was your time to leave.

You had held on to life as long as you could. But you were done. You were tired. You couldn't live another day, but at least he would have some good memories of you.

"I'm sorry." You mutter as you saw the train approaching.

One deep breath.

You and Simon always had a habit of sending photos to each other. Especially of the sky. Simon felt a sinking feeling come over him as he saw your last pictures. It was a beautiful sunset, but the words you chose had taken away much of its beauty.

"God damn..." He whispered as he read your message. "Is this what I think it is?" He started getting a thousand thoughts at once, all flooding through his brain.

What could he have done?

Should he have said something different?

You were going to be okay. You were getting better.

Nothing. Nothing could've been done. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't the fault of your therapist. No one was at fault.

Some people just weren't made to grow old, and you were one of them. Your depression had haunted you and had finally taken you to the dark abyss. You were finally at peace.

Simon tried to push away the thoughts of all you were going to miss. All of the life you were going to miss. He could not believe it. He simply couldn't. The person he tried to cheer up, was gone. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault... He kept repeating that to himself, but deep inside he knew that had always been true. He had done all he could. All he had been able to. And that would never be enough to make you stay. Simon's eyes were growing red, but he tried to keep himself strong. It had only been hours after you died, and he was already questioning everything.

"I'll remember you." He said, to no one. He thought of all of the times he tried to help you, the pictures you sent him. The jokes. the little conversations you shared. He couldn't believe it. Simon tried to dial you, to call you, to call for an answer. But he knew that there was nothing he could do now. Nothing but hope that heaven was real. Nothing but hope that he would see you again. Nothing but hope that this was all a horrible joke, a sick nightmare.

The photos of the sunset, the cat, the moon, all lay in front of him. They looked like a cruel joke. Like reality's cruellest and sickest joke of all.

You weren't supposed to end.