#just watched him be a blob and thought ‘it’s time. I’m doing him no favors’

[l3irdl3rain]

Little baby man, what am I going to do with you?

[rainbowxocs]

Previous Page

The Trolley Problem by Angel.

TWs: Descriptions of Child Abuse, Specifically Emotional and Physical, and also Torture/Scientific Experiments.

Chapter 1

Memories before the war.

Hmm… I guess there’s no where to start but the beginning.

I actually remember being born, funnily enough. It was a horrible experience, If I could do it over I would never do that again. But hindsight is 20/20. My mom, Maria, really wanted a daughter. I remember she use to tell me how much of a disappointment I was, she was expecting so much more out of me.

I don’t blame her for hating me. I was a mistake, I didn’t give her what she wanted. I was a gross fleshy blob, and at the time I didn’t know how to make my momma happy. Actually, I wasn’t really useful to anyone really. Yknow when you walk into a room and you have this aching in your chest that everyone there is annoyed by you?

Most of my family looked at me like that, with complete apathy. I don’t blame them, I would hate me too. I tried really hard as a kid to impress my family but none of them really cared much. The closest I got to care was from Stellan, our A.I maid, but even then he stayed away from me for the most part.

For most of my childhood I was locked up in my room, with nothing to do really. I didn’t have any furniture or toys or windows to look out of, I don’t think there was even a lightbulb in the ceiling. So, to pass the time I would imagine. I would write stories in my head of fantastical worlds and happy endings.

This was both a good and a bad thing. Mom got really mad when I accidentally ignored her in favor of slaying a dragon. I remember she always had the most creative punishments for me when I misbehaved. Though getting things cut off like your hair or fingers hurt like no other.

At least both grow back though. So I wasn’t too worried about it. Mom hated that, she always used to yell at me for being so nonchalant about everything. I don’t know why I was, I guess when things would happen I would just retreat into my mind.

I think about her a lot. It’s hard not to. Me and her share a face, my Grandpa always joked that my mom was like a printer as she made an exact copy of herself. Which I always found funny because of how different me and momma are.

Grandpa was always weird like that though. He was the only person who would talk to me when I was a child. He use to teach me things about old currency, like how we use to have paper money and coins, he actually showed me his huge coin collection and it was very cool. He always told me that I was a miracle.

My dad hated that his dad would give me so much attention. My dad hated me in general, he always said I was “Maria’s problem.” And not his. But I still always tried to impress him. He was home a lot more often than Mom was. She had to work late hours passing laws and doing speeches. So when dad would get home it would often just be me, him, and Stellan.

Honestly, I kinda preferred my dad sometimes. He still hated me, but he was quiet and predictable unlike my mom. Mom could find anything about me to be mad at, but Dad only got mad if I did something wrong, like talk to him. His punishments were less severe as well, getting hit is a lot less painful than getting stabbed or something like that.

Even though my family was in the public eye, nobody in the outside world knew about me. My grandpa said I was one of the best kept secrets in New America, which I thought was funny. Honestly I’m glad nobody knew about me, Mom and Dad use to get hounded by people wherever they went, even Stellan sometimes got stalked.

The bad thing about not being known though was that I wasn’t allowed outside of our apartment. Which was okay, but a little cramped. I remember when Mom wasn’t home I was allowed to go outside of my room, and sometimes I would peek out the windows and just watch the city dwellers on the streets before us. I remember thinking they looked like Ants.

That was my life, I had a very specific routine and I followed it to the letter. Until one day when I was ten years old. A year ago, the incident had happened, and I knew Mom had been stressed out since then, I didn’t know much about the war, only that it seemed to get worse every day, and Mom wasn’t coping well.

Our entire society relied on technology, and that technology had completely rebelled against us in the worst way possible. Most people on the news believed the war would only last a few months at most, maybe causing a few supply chain issues. But the A.I were brutal.

I didn’t know this at the time but Mom had been funding experiments throughout the past year in order to find a way to stop the A.I, however none of it had been working. Until one day, Mom picked me up and took me on a trip to West Virginia. This was super exciting for me as I had never been outside the apartment let alone outside of the state.

I didn’t understand what Mom was doing at the time. But we eventually drove up to a large building in the middle of nowhere, and some scientists took me out of the car and dragged me into the facility, I kicked and screamed for my mom but she ended up driving away.

I remember being so scared as the scientists put me into my new room, it was large with tall concrete walls and floor, and the only light source came from the observation deck above me where the scientists looked down. There were no doors, no known way to escape.

I remember the first day they didn’t bother me. Probably letting me acclimate to my new surroundings, I sobbed the entire day and didn’t get much sleep. I was use to being in an empty room but not one so cold and uncomfortable.

I’m going to save you from most of the details of my stay at Salendine, I was there for four years and to be honest, every day was the same. They would experiment on me somehow, usually with some method of torture like electrocution or starvation, and after the torture they would give me a task.

They essentially were trying to train me into being an obedient computer. They wanted me to obey their every command by frying my brain. I never was able to please them though. I was still a human, after all. No matter how obedient I was, I would never be a robot. But they believed if they just tortured me enough that I would eventually become the perfect weapon for them.

Unfortunately for them, I am not so easily broken.

☂️. Next Page:

Chapter 2.

[natewriteslol]

Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

 A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas 

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!” 

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out 

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs 

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone 

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say 

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone? 

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim: 

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty 

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you) 

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen” 

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible 

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.” 

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...” 

[azuregiggles]

The Bold and The Honk: Ler!George Lee!Karl

With a brief Ler!Quackity, Ler!Dream and Ler!SapNap

ALL PLATONIC

Author Notes: Sorry this took a bit longer than I thought it would! But it's finally here!!!

Words: 3314

WARNINGS: Swearing, I think that's it let me know if you think something else should be a warning.

SUMMARY: George is in a rather big Ler mood and is desperate to wreck someone. Lucky for him there are four others in the Feral household and so his search for a lee begins.

It was a rather ordinary day in the feral boys household each man was doing something rather independently. Dream was taking his fifth nap of the day though it was only noon. SapNap was editing in his office. Quackity was practicing making a few different dishes for a cooking stream they all had planned for later in the week and Karl was assisting him. That left George.

He was supposed to be working on his most recent video for his seemingly neglected YouTube channel but he just couldn’t get up the momentum he needed in order to focus. His mind was far too busy putting him in a very interesting mood. He watched his own fingers tap away at the keys and couldn’t help but imagine the squeaks and giggles it would make rather than its ‘click clack’ if it were a person beneath his fingers instead.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers running through his already messy hair. This only made him think of Karl and how he’d melt if someone lightly scratched his head. A fond smile crossed his lips. Living among the four other men he’d grown accustomed to the various and constant forms of affection. If any of them wanted a specific affection such as to cuddle there was always another Feral around to ensure they were helped and happy.

Gogy’s mind wandered back to tickling and how much it meant to the five of them. If ever one of them was in need of cheering up or just a smile this was a much favored method to get the crew back into a chipper mindset. Occasionally one of them would even ask to be on the receiving end and the friends would oblige with no questions. George was in the opposite mood however. He wanted to be on the giving end of things right now. He felt as though he needed it.

George was rarely one to be in a lee mood. He was often neutral until one of the others was under attack, then he’d join the offensive. Right now though, he was far from neutral, he was completely in a ler mood and ready to wreck someone. He trudged his way down the hall to Dream’s room and poked his head in the door. The green hooded man had clearly just woken up, his hair was tousled and his eyes were struggling to stay open. George tapped lightly on the door. Looking up Dream groaned jokingly “Ewwww what do you want?”

“I need you to help me with a certain mood I’m in?”

“What mood exactly?”

George stepped into the room until he was next to Dream “I’m in a ler mood and I really wanna tickle someone. You’ll help me right, Dreamy?” He poked his friend in the side.

“Absolutely nahahat! I just woke up! Go awahay!” The green one giggled and gave George a playful shove towards the door. George moved over to him again and ruffled his already messy hair with a grin.

“Fine sleepyhead, but don’t come to me with your next lee mood. I won’t be nice about it.”

“Whatever just get outta here dumbass.” Dream chuckled, swatting the offending hand away.

George decided to leave and continue his search for his next victim. Next he checked with Sap who was content at his desk. He leaned over the man’s shoulder. “Saaappppp” he whined.

“Geeoorrrggggeeeee” Sapnap mockingly whined back. “What’s up Gogs?”

“Can you help meee?”

“With what? Be specific.” Sap chuckled, eyes on the screen. George placed his hands on the ravenette’s sides, who tensed and smiled.

“I wanna tickle someone, like wreck them.”

“I’m editing go tickle Dream!” He playfully swatted Gogy’s hands away.

“He’s just woken up and won’t let me.”

“Then try Quackity.”

“He’s cooking.”

“Then tickle Karl, you know he loves it.” Sap giggled and pushed his friend towards the door “We can’t all procrastinate Gogs, I need to finish this video.” The door closed on him, Sap had returned to editing.

Editing had its own kind of fun but nothing would entertain the streamer the way his friends’ reactions did. SapNap was the proudest of the bunch, always holding out on laughing for as long as possible and will deny any compliments till the bitter end. Would have been an excellent target.

Dream was a screamer, his constant wheezing and endless sass made him an interesting lee to say the least. He always claimed to hate being tickled but the word ‘stop’ seemed to leave his vocabulary at the smallest poke. Unfortunately he was still drowsy and as such off the list.

Quackity was an involuntary fighter, the kind you have to pin a bit if you don’t wanna get punched or kicked. His hysterical laughter is always filled with a sailor’s worth of swearing no matter how much fun he’s having. George didn’t feel like getting potentially injured though. Another lee bites the dust.

Karl, on the other hand, was pure gold. The most ticklish, easily flustered by compliments and teasing but also not too embarrassed to admit that he loves the affectionate bonding that was tickling. His laughter was always full of cute noises like hiccups and snorts. But above all, since he enjoyed it, he was the one of George’s friends who could last the longest. Perfect.

Sir Not Found made his way to the basement, the Feral Cave as they all called it. With large sofas for streaming console games together and a large kitchen for cooking streams like the one Quackity was currently preparing for. Karl was presently attempting to flip an omelet and failing miserably.

“Oi! It’s a wild Gogy! In my kitchen!? The fuck is this!?” Quackity announced George’s arrival.

“Hey George! Wanna watch me pop off? I’m the omelet flipping champion.” Karl boasted and Quack rolled his eyes.

“You’ve dropped that same egg blob like five times, good thing no ones gonna eat it, they’d die on the first bite.” Quack told him.

George, who hadn’t said a word, walked into the kitchen and behind Karl. He slipped his arms around his friend’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Uhhuh George?” Karl’s tone was nervous and giddy. “Everything okay?”

George decided not to beat around the bush “I’m in a terrible ler mood. Lemme tickle you?” He gently poised his hands on Karl’s sides.

Karl froze and his cheeks turned red “Wh-What? How can you just ask that?” The room was already filled with his nervous giggles. He tensed in George’s hold, anticipating an attack. “B-Besides I’m helping Quack right now.”

“Oooh Karl’s in trouble Gogy’s in his bold arc!” Quackity teased. “You can have him Gogs, he’s a terrible sous chef anyway!”

“Hey!” Karl protested.

“Pleeaaasssseee Karl?” George tightened his hold, effectively hugging the other man who slightly melted into his arms.

“Oh fu-honk, okay. Please just-“ he was cut off as he was promptly thrown over George’s shoulder and carried towards the couches. His sweater paws now covered his face. He let out a yelp as he was plopped onto the sofa.

“Damn Gogy, you’re down bad. Must be one hell of a ler mood. Karl you’re so fucked” Quackity called from across the room.

Karl was far too giggly to respond. He covered his face and squirmed as George sat on his waist. “I don’t know where this mood came from. I just really needed to wreck someone. I tried Sap but he’s editing and told me to ask Karl because Karl. Loves. Being. Tickled. So. So. Much.” If there were any doubt that Karl was blushing before there was no room for argument now, with each word George poked Karl in the ribs, sending him into a giggle fit full of squeaks as his face flushed red.

“Sahahap is duhuhumb.” Karl offered.

“Mm-hm, and you’re ticklish! Now where’s that adorable laughter Karl? Please don’t keep me waiting. Your face has gone red you’re like a raspberry!” George reminded him by tasering his sides, earning a squeal. “Any specific requests from our little web star i-Karlee?”

Karl was in tease hell. When did George come up with a nickname like that!? His blush began to spread up to his ears and he made a series of flustered sputters as he tried to form words. He shook his head no.

“So I can just go for it?”

Karl nodded.

“Do you want me to start slow or wreck you? Your face is getting darker, how cute! Is that red Quackity? I need help confirming since I’m colorblind” George wiggled his fingers in the air.

More sputters left Karl’s lips. When did Gogy get so good at teasing? “I-I do-don’t” he squealed again as his sides were tasered once more.

“That’s not an answer~”

“J-Juhuhust” Karl tried to think through his giggles. He would die if this teasing continued. Unsure if he could handle being wrecked immediately he chose what he thought was the safer option. “Slohohow fihihirst”

“Aww~ anything for you i-Karlee!” George started by lightly scratching along his friend’s lower belly.

“Nahahaha!” Karl covered his mouth and snorted.

“Oh~ how adorable, you sound just like techno! Do it again!” George scratched around Karl’s navel.

“George NOHO!” He squealed and kicked his legs out behind the ravenette above him. Trying his best to not snort again he grabbed a nearby pillow and used it to muffle the noise.

“Now now, don’t hide from me Karl. You’ll only make it worse~” he teased and pinched along Karl’s lower rib, just enough to make him let go of the pillow. Karl snorted again as George returned his attention to his navel.

“Oh? Does this little piggy have a ticklish button? This one here?” He poked his finger inside and wiggled it around.

A small cackle resounded from the brunette “NAHAHA dohohoHOHOnt!” He whined and squirmed left to right.

“I believe the rhyme goes whee whee whee whee all the way home Karl” wriggling digits spidered up Karls sides and ribs, right to his armpits. Arms snapped down as bubbly laughter filled the air. “Do you think this is a good home for them?”

“OHOHOUT! G-GEHEHET OUT! NOHOHAHAHA” Karl bucked up and down trying to wrench the attacking fingers from his hallows.

“I’d love to but it seems as though I’m stuck here. What am I to do Karl? You’ve trapped me.”

“SLOHOHOW DOHOHOWN” Karl pleaded and snorted once more his face scrunched.

“Alright but you’ll have to lift your arms if I do~” Gogy warned him but slowed down to give his friend a breather.

Very hesitant arms lifted to free George's hands. As promised Gogy removed his hands from Karl’s armpits and began scanning for his next target. Karl took deep breaths and closed his eyes as he giggled and rubbed away the phantom tickles.

“Would you like to play a little game i-Karlee?”

“Whahat kind ohohof game?” He blushed at the nickname.

“It’s simple really, you keep your arms up as I count your ribs. If you snort I start over, If you bring your arms down that’s ten seconds of tickling on your worst spot.”

“You’re evil”

“That’s not a no Karl~”

“Sh-shut up”

“Is that a yes?”

“I… I mean-... It’s more of a…”

“Arms uuup~ up, up ,up.” George coaxed him and smirked.

Karl’s arms betrayed him as he felt his head rest on his hands, his arms up and behind his head. He knew he’d never made it through this counting game before without his arms coming down. He knew it was a trap and yet he couldn’t help the anticipatory giggles that poured from his mouth.

“Wow you must be in a lee mood if you’re being this obligatory. I’m honored.”

Karl avoided eye contact, his blush returning.

“Awww~ I knew he’d be willing to help you George” Sapnap’s voice came from the kitchen where he was now helping Quackity clean. “Karl loves to be tickled.”

“Is that what all the noise is?” A still half-awake Dream fumbled down the stairs and flopped onto his beanbag chair that was just out of view of their stream setup. Karl’s hands moved back to covering his face.

“It certainly is Dream! He’s helping me with my Ler mood.” Gogy supplied.

“Aww~ How sweet of him. Oh my god, look at how red he is.” He scoffed, “Since he loves to be tickled so much it’s a win win. Having fun Karl?” Dream chuckled and watched the two from afar. The glint in his eye made Karl nervous again.

“Now where were we?” George returned his attention to a very flustered Jacobs “Ah yes~ Put those arms back up, please.”

A tiny squeak and the raising of arms was all Gogy needed to begin. He started at the top rib, knowing that, when it came to his ribs, Karl’s were more ticklish the lower they were. Karl gave a surprised squeal and began to wiggle around, his arms already threatened to drop.

“Oooonnneee~ stay still for me okay i-Karlee?”

“i-Karlee? Really George” Sap laughed “that’s so dumb.”

“Twooo~ such a pretty laugh”

“Karl seems to like it~” Quackity chimed in.

“Threeeee~! You’re changing color again. Is it magic?”

“Aww does little Jacobs love his new nickname?” Dream added to the verbal assault.

“SHUT THE HONK UP” Karl was losing it. All of his friends' teasing was getting to him far more than the actual tickling. “Plehehehease! You buhuhunch of nihihimrods! I’m gohohonna dihihiie”

“That’s not very nice Karl!” George smirked as he continued counting ribs silently “you should apologize~”

Karl shook his head no. He knew what he was getting into.

“Oh? Feeling sassy all of a sudden?”

“You gonna take that from a lee George?” Dream instigated, ignoring the slow rise of butterflies in his own stomach. The tickling stopped.

“What are you dohohoing?” Karl gave nervous glances to both of them. He’d expected to be wrecked, not ignored.

“Apologize or you’ll be punished” George told him.

“Try me” Karl taunted.

“Oh I’m not going to tickle you into apologizing, quite the opposite actually.”

“What? How does that-?”

“If you don’t apologize no one gets to tickle you for a week. Even if you ask.”

“That’s just evil Gogy you know Karl can’t go a day without a lee mood” Sapnap added.

“Holy shit, Gogy’s villain arc!? Ooohhh you better apologize Karl~” Quackity watched them with excitement.

“Well what’s it gonna be?” George looked at Karl again “say sorry and I’ll wreck you properly” wiggling fingers hovered over Karl’s lower ribs.

“O-okay I’m sorry.” Karl hid his face again “please tickle me” he squirmed in place. A flood of adoring comments from the other four men filled his ears. Karl’s face returned to a lovely shade of red as he sputtered and giggled.

“Aww he even said please, now you gotta ruin him good Gogs.” Quackity laughed.

“I intend to. You three help me a bit?” George ignored Karl’s giggly protests “don’t tickle him, just tease.”

The trio grinned and gathered around. Sapnap was behind Karl, arms around his waist. Dream was on his beanbag he’d dragged over beside the couch. Quackity was laying on the back of the sofa. George, in front of Karl, positioned his hands on the brunettes knees.

“Ready Karl?” George asked him in a teasy tone but wanted to make sure he wasn’t crossing a line.

Pulling his hood over his eyes, giggling frantically, Karl nodded. A shriek was caught in his laughter as it began. George kneaded the spot above each knee and scribbled beneath them whenever the chance arose. He grinned at the bubbly laughter filled the air, mixed with snorts and cackles. Now this was the kind of lee interaction he’d needed.

“Awwww, how cute your knees are so sensitive~” SapNap cooed directly into his ear.

“How is your laughter so sweet Karl. I literally don’t understand how it can be so endearing” Quackity chimed in from his perch. George was currently kneading Karl’s sides making the younger squeal in lighthearted protest. Tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks.

“Better not let the fans see you blush like this Karl~” Dream chuckled “They’d lose their shit. Imagine Karl can’t open social media without see everyone saying how adorable he is~”

Another shriek pierced the air as hands squeezed Karl’s hips on rapid fire. Karl leaned back into Sapnap to avoid bucking away from the touch. Sap chuckled and blew gently on his ears, not touching him but it tickled Karl just enough to make him scrunch up his shoulders and kick out his legs a bit.

All the while Dream and Quackity continued to ruffle Karl’s hair and showered him with teasing words and praise. “Aww was that a snort Karlos~”

“You look like you’re loving this Karl~”

Karl’s struggling car to a stop and he melted into the sofa and Sap’s embrace. His mind was really foggy but he knew he was happy. He felt safe even in moments like this because he knew his friends would never take it too far. Three people teasing as one wrecked him physically was a new but welcomed experience for the lee. After another couple of minutes the tickling was only a gentle skittering across his neck, making him melt as he caught his breath,

“I think I’m satisfied, how about you Karl? Did you get your fill?” George checked.

“Uhuhuh just ohohone more tihihing?” Karl giggled shyly.

A flood of awes filled the air, making him hide his face once again.

“And what would that be?~” George paused for an answer.

“R-Raspberries” A familiar heat arose to his features.Due to keeping his face in his sweater paws Karl missed the mischievous grins and looks that passed between the other four. A silent plan formed.

“What!? Gogy forgot your raspberries? How rude, don’t worry I’ve got your back Karl.~” Sap said into his ear. Karl knew exactly what that tone was and barely had time to speak before a raspberry was blow onto his neck by Sapnap.

“SAHAHAP WHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?”

“Oi! Look what you’ve done Nappitus!” Quackity was using his chef voice again “You’ve upset Karl and made ’im sweah! You should know his favorite spot is right ‘ere!” With that he blew a raspberry upon Karl’s ribs.

“QUAHAHAHCK STAHAHAHAP” Karls shriekd but made no attempt to escape.

“You’re doing it wrong it’s riiight here~” Dream took in a huff of air.

Karl’s hands shot down from his face just in time to see his roommates’s lips reach his side “DREHEHEAM NOHOHOOOO- ACK” His whine was cut off by a yelp and a flood out loud, bright laughter. Dream smirked and continued.

“Now, now we should all know that Karl’s belly is his favorite~” George had to speak loudly to be heard over the symphony of sensations that were currently driving poor Karl insane. Karl squirmed and sputtered half hearted protests as George leaned down and took in a large breath. The vibrations sent a shock through Karl’s core and left him laughing silently. A chorus of raspberries on his four worst yet favorite spots was causing him to feel exhausted. Noticing this his quartet of lers each gave him one last raspberry before helping him rub away the phantom tickles. They all hugged him and showered him with praise for holding out.

“Thahahahat was mehehean” Karl giggled and hiccuped in the pile of an embrace.

“Was it too much?” George asked, a bit worried. Karl blushed and shook his head no.

“Did you love it Karl~?” Dream chided. Karl nodded, sweater paws covering his face.

“Awwww~ Karlos~” Quackity hugged him a bit tighter.

“Sh-shut up” Karl couldn’t hide the grin in his voice and the group laughed together. They stayed piled up for a while but eventually Dream and Quackity wandered off leaving Sapnap stranded under George and Karl who had managed to fall asleep on top of him.

[xiaonesis]

Genshin Impact // Xiao: In Dreams

Please do not repost art or share without credits. Also posted on twitter.

In Dreams // Xiao X Reader Drabble

...possibly part of a longer fic (series??) for Xiao <.<; This was just quickly whipped up for the art because I felt the incessant need to post it with the art. So... warning: not beta read, not thought out.

“Xiao, what’s your dream?”

“Dream?”

Xiao looked down to where you were squatting on the ground next to him. Black ink stained your fingers as you messily scribbled your hopes, wishes, and aspirations for the year on your chosen bright paper lantern. 

Pausing, you gazed up at the stoic male, a simple white lantern held awkwardly in one hand. Forced upon him by you.

‘You can’t celebrate the Lantern Festival without a lantern!’

Or so you say.

Dream?

Scrunching your nose at his still plain lantern, you gesture insistently at the untouched brush you had prepared for him, laying on the ground.

“Yeah! You have to write your wish on the lantern! So chop-chop, there must be something you want and dream about!” 

You push the brush into his empty palm. Imperceptibly, his thumb brushed over your fingers.

Xiao stared down at the brush in his left hand, then the lantern in his right. He let his left hand fall to rest by his side, lips turned down in its usual frown. 

Xiao has lived a long life.

“You know, for someone named Xiao, you don’t smile enough.”

He’s had many names over the years and centuries.

One full of war, thrumming with the voices of a thousand souls.

One filled with solitude, the only serenity he could present himself.

And he will, should the Archons and fate allow it, continue to live a long life.

Conqueror of Demons, Guardian Yaksha, Alatus-

If possible, Xiao’s frown would have further plummeted as he pinned brilliant eyes on you.

“You know very well what my name stands for.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrugged off his prickly attitude and opened up your lantern, covered in various scrawls that reminded Xiao of a child’s handwriting. 

“I know. I’m just saying, your name could have turned out to mean ‘smile’ just as much as what it means now.”

“You didn’t write anything.”

Suddenly, you blinked and snapped your fingers, before quickly and haphazardly tagging on additional dark blobs of words onto what little space is left on your lantern. 

From over your shoulder, Xiao was unable to make out the words and was only able to see crooked lines spilling from one side of the lantern to the other, the characters gradually shrinking and pinching into the corner to fit onto the paper.

You tsked and whined to yourself over what Xiao guessed (and knows) to be mistakes. Likely a wrongly written character or some other grammatical error.

When you were done, Xiao watched as you stood and positioned your lantern in front of you, excitedly nodding at him to do the same with his.

With a soundless sigh, Xiao copied you and opened his lantern, perching it next to yours. 

A disgruntled sound of protest bubbled from your throat at the white lantern he presented.

In the time he’s known you, he’s found that lending half an ear to your numerous requests is a far more efficient way of handling you than ignoring them. The latter option has never worked out in his favor and peace of mind before.

Xiao crossed his arm and wordlessly leveled his eyes on you. 

“Luckily for you, I wished on your behalf anyways!” 

This is as much as you will get from him tonight. He’s already given in to your incessant pleading to accompany you to the Lantern Festival, even leaving Wangshu Inn to travel to Liyue Harbor. You understood that.

“Fine, be that way! Hmph-!” 

With a pout, you bent and lit both your lanterns. 

The festival was about to start, and you were not going to miss releasing your lanterns with the others just because Xiao is being his stubborn self. 

Plucking the corner of the white one, you gingerly passed to Xiao his lantern- empty of wishes and dreams- before picking up your own, stark in contrast to his. It was covered in so many words that one can barely discern the original pattern and color.

Prosperous yellow and auspicious orange illuminated the streets below, whilst a streak of blue and teal danced across the roofs and terraces of Liyue and to the skies, lifting with it hundreds of beautiful lanterns in all shapes and sizes.

Sticking your tongue out at Xiao, you raised your hands up high to the heavens and passed on your dreams to the night winds of Liyue.

His eyes followed your lantern floating into the sky, dotted with wishes and stars. 

Up high on the hills above Liyue Harbor, the zephyrs that took away your lantern were stronger and harsher than those that blew in the streets below. Unlike the graceful sways of other lanterns, yours circled and flitted around in the breeze, random and hectic, in an awkward dance that reminded Xiao of you. 

Your wishes for delicious food and an influx of Mora, and aspirations for your work, shone bold and strong on vivid paper.

They were the generic sort of wishes that the people of Liyue made every year on this annual festival; nothing special or extraordinary.

He would have taken the opportunity to make a remark about this to you when your lantern turned in the wind, and his adeptus eyes caught sight of the scrambling of black ink that you tacked on at the last minute.

[I wish for Xiao’s good health and safety.]

They were smudged, and honestly did no favors for you with how messy they were, almost incoherent in its presentation.

[-and for him to have all the Almond Tofus he can possibly want!]

Finally, spilling over the edge and encroaching the space where your dreams are transcribed for the unseen gods, is one last line. This line was carefully, neatly, and slowly, brushed with a gentleness that was not seen anywhere else on the lantern.

[Can I also wish for him to not sneak up on me and scare the life out of me anymore?]

The previous line had a hasty line crossed on it. 

[I wish for Xiao to find more reasons to smile.]

Then in tiny scribbles: [I hope he doesn’t get wrinkles.]

I wish for Xiao’s happiness.

Xiao thought you were impossibly greedy as usual. 

Do you not realize how dark your lantern has turned from the weight of the wishes it carried?

You are always asking for more.

Always asking for an extra serving of rice, for more attention from the people around you, for you to meet more friends, for everyone to laugh more, for him to eat more properly, for him to be more careful, for him to smile more-

“Xiao, your lantern’s going to burn if you don’t let it go soon,” you teased.

“You didn’t write your dream,” he said. 

You peered up at Xiao, tilting your head curiously at the way he looked out at the sea of dreams spreading through the heavens. Amber eyes that, on any other day, are usually sharp as the deadliest of spears shimmered in mellow gold. You can’t help but compare it to the life-giving sun that blessed the fields of Liyue.

(Or maybe even the petals of Sweet Flowers, but you’ll never tell him that.)

Xiao knows about your dream. Your real dream. 

The sharp focus returned to Xiao’s eyes.

He didn’t acknowledge your tease and merely raised his hand. He finally registered the heat of the fire pushing hot against his skin but it didn’t bother him. It did not compare to the flames of war that had been a large part of his life.

“What do you mean? I wrote plenty!” 

With one soft push, Xiao released the lantern that had fought futilely for freedom against the pinch of an adeptus, a feather against a mountain. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you staring at him, mouth agape and looking almost scandalized at his accusation.

You often played the fool, and perhaps, most times you are a fool…

Crossing your arms with an indignant huff, you stuck your tongue out at him a second time that night. “And I certainly don’t want to be told that by someone who didn’t even write anything on their lantern!”

With one light shake of his head, he settled onto the soft grass and nudged his head in a sign for you to quiet down and do the same.

Despite your grumblings about his baseless accusations, Xiao knew that you knew better. 

The hesitance wavering in your eyes did not escape his notice, try as you might to cover it up with babblings about the various aspirations you wrote on your lantern, and what foods you might try from the stalls once the embers of extinguished wishes began to fall.

With foolish dreams and silly hopes.

The one you didn’t write.

Xiao didn’t write a dream on his lantern because he didn’t have one...didn’t believe in them. 

Or rather...

He believed that he did not deserve to have any of his own. 

Dream Eater....it is one of his many names.

Countless souls had their dreams snuffed like a candle in the wind by his hands, even when he did not intend to.

Why should he have one, when so many were taken by him?

He does not have a dream, but for whatever time remains for you in your mortal life, Xiao swore he will protect your dreams. 

He doubts he’ll ever have a dream of his own, even if he should live for another several thousand years. 

But…

Quietly, Xiao glanced at you, so lost in the dark sky brimming with dreams that your neck craned in what would certainly result in aches later on.

He will see to it that they came true. 

To that end, he will gladly wear the Demon Mask that is his bane.

Please spare a reblog if you enjoyed the art or drabble <3 it will be very much appreciated!

[disgruntledspacedad]

Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse. 

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k 

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five 

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish. 

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed. 

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87. 

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell. 

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put. 

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him. 

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick. 

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall. 

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink. 

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you. 

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!” 

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room. 

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

 You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile. 

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside. 

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand. 

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them. 

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly.  “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath. 

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light. 

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image. 

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it. 

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been. 

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling. 

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes. 

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot. 

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked. 

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.” 

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it. 

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

 “I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations: 

She speaks English. 

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see. 

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty​

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me​

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

[honey-makki]

grandma’s blessing

best friend!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death (family member), oral (fem receiving), fire, probably unsanitary cooking conditions if i’m being honest (it’s soft i swear)

summary: the holidays are your favorite time of year. your best friend hanamaki tries to keep holiday cheer alive despite the loss of a family member.

word count 2.4k

masterlist

Holiday’s are tricky. Decisions on whether the trauma of going home will be a heavier burden to bear than the guilt and loneliness of your city apartment. GOing home was never a pleasant experience. Trips filled with parents nitpicking your seemingly successful life and emotionally battering you about anything and everything they could. The only reprieve would be hugging your grandmother and being able to see her face-to-face during dinner. She understood why you didn’t come home every opportunity and didn’t blame you a bit.

On years when it would be too much to travel, you knew that she would still give you a call. Spending all day on the phone with you while you bounced around the kitchen making much smaller portions of what they would be eating at home. Even the small amounts of silence on the call were comfortable. You could feel her next to you kneading the dough for a pie while you mixed together the fruit base. It felt like home.

The silence that has been living in your apartment the past few months after her passing was suffocating. Weekends spent with friends at their apartment just to get out of somewhere that just seems to reek of death and despair.

You had spent more nights at Makki’s place in the past month than at your own. He was your closest friend, a true confidant, someone skilled at lifting your mood, and the person you’ve been undeniably in love with for years. You accepted the fate of growing old with a horde of cats as long as you can have his silly pink hair shining in the sun when you hung out with friends. It’s ok that you are going to be alone forever as long as you still had a standing laser tag date once a month. The only thing stronger than your feelings of love towards the strawberry blond was fear of losing him.

He has been a pillar of strength during the past few months. Holding your crying body until you fall asleep on his tear-stained and snot covered chest. Setting alarms in your phone to make sure you are eating or going to work instead of sitting in a dissociative state. Ever since you shared a bed with him, he’s been a little more comfortable with physical contact. Walking closer together arms touching when going out or throwing an arm over your shoulder when lounging around the house. You can’t count the number of times you’ve both woken up in various stages of cuddling.

He was the one to bring up spending the holidays together. He had just gone home for a wedding and couldn’t afford another ticket and he knew that you were in a weird spot. “We can stay here and make dinner and bake cookies and watch shitty r-romcoms? Someone has to appreciate Hallmark movies, why not us?” You can hear his voice crack and start to speed up as a blush rises across his face. You see it but don’t really process it, more relieved that for the first time in months, the thought of holidays didn’t make you run to the bathroom and throw up. You smiled and nodded, setting plans for him to come over later in the week.

Makki always liked when you cooked, throwing a western spin on dishes he considered normal. But today, he was flabbergasted, you didn’t let him just sit on the barstool curating music while you did all the work, no, there was too much food to be made for him to laze around. You laid out the recipe for your grandmothers’ mac n’ cheese, explaining what everything meant while you got started on an asian fusion stuffing you figured out a few years back.

You stole glances at him in the middle of stirring, combining and folding everything together. His tongue sticks out between his lips while he deliberately measures out the exact amount of cheese required. In all the time you’ve seen him, you’ve never seen him totally lose his laid back air until now, and you can’t control your laugh. Is he really more serious about measuring out sharp cheddar cheese than a game that would take them to nationals? Or that physics final he actually studied for? Your heart skips a beat when you see his soft, satisfied smile to the dish he just created. All you can picture when he looks over to you is how cute of a child he must have been. Cheeks round encasing his bright smile as his head tilts ever so slightly to the left.

After he slides the last dish into the oven, you both opt for taking the time to clean the kitchen, knowing that you won’t want to do it after dinner. The dishes are washed and dried and while Makki puts away the ones that go on a higher shelf, you return flour and other ingredients to the pantry but before you put them down you call out to him, voice lighter than normal, the one you use when asking a favor.

“Taka, how upset would you be if I said I wanted to cook a little bit more?”

“You get dishes this time around then, but what are we makin’?”

You turn out of the pantry with a bounce in your step before slapping down the flour and newly acquired, chocolate chips and sprinkles. “Cookies! We always made cookies with my grandma and it wouldn’t be the same without them.” Your eyes sparkle at the thought of the sweet treats and equally sweet memories of your childhood. Makki thinks you are breathtaking.

“Let me get the bowls back down and we can probably make mediocre cookies if you have anything you do with it.” He smiles at just how cute the squawk you made from his teasing is, just happy that he gets to be here with you. He doesn’t really hear how you defend your baking skills and complain that just because you forgot flour one time doesn’t mean you are inept at baking.

He never thought he would be the type to settle down and be domestic, it just didn’t seem like something he cared a lot about, but now he he can’t rid his mind of the thought of waking up ten minutes before your alarm just to make you a cup of coffee or throwing your favorite blanket in the drier on days it’s raining so when you get home, you can melt into the soft plush and warm up instantly.The clattering of spices brings him back to the moment, turning to see you picking up the cinnamon and vanilla extract.

“You good, love?” There’s something about how you look when you flustered because of him, that scratches an itch he didn’t know was there. The first time a pet name like this had slipped through his lips he was certain that whatever line the two of you were toeing had been crossed, demolished. Instead you just tucked your hair away and averted your gaze back to whatever shitty movie the two of you were “watching” that night. Now it’s normal, well its not normal, its very much not normal for him to refer to you as love or babe and it's not normal for you to exclusivley call him by his first name. It's decidedly abnormal considering your relationship or lack thereof. But if you aren’t going to question it neither is he.

He helps you up and gather the remaining ingredients for the “famous snickerdoodle cookies” that you swear had won awards. The mixing of the dough is interrupted when he has to grab your wrist to stop you from adding salt instead of sugar. You refuse to look at him because you know he is sporting a huge smirk and raised eyebrows, knowing that he’s right about you not being the best baker. You are reprieved by the oven going off, signaling to remove the earlier and change the temperature.

“Damn, babe, these cookies look so good, especially this one.” You return to Makki who already started to lay out the dough on the baking tray. You see perfectly round blobs squished slightly by a fork for a pattern and then right in front of him you see the cookie he was talking about. You didn't expect to see your 27 year old boyfriend-who-isn’t-your-boyfriend to be holding a cockshaoped cookie. But really, you should have seen it coming from the guy who laughs when either of you fart.

He can hear the clock ticking as you just stare, annoyed. He was concerned for a second, that maybe he shouldn’t have made a lewd joke when making cookies. This is something he used to do with her grandmother, you stupid idiot.. But when he can see the apple of your cheek peeking out from behind your hand, he recognizes that face. The one that positively exudes warmth and happiness with her laughter. The butterflies always buzzing in his stomach go wild when this face comes out. He would do anything to see it for the rest of time.

You don’t know where the courage comes from but you cup his cheek for a kiss, he mirrors your action. It just felt normal, and you honestly didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal until you both pulled back. Your eyes are locked on his, both of you sporting a soft smile until his keeps growing, evolving into a laugh that is borderline offensive in how loud it is.

You don’t know why and you get a little nervous that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, when you go to hide your face, you feel the heat rising but also a soft powdery coating? And that’s when you realize his hands are still coated in flour from shaping the cookies. Your eyes are rolling while you chuckle but Makki on the other hand is losing his mind, almost in tears from laughing while putting the cookies in the oven. “It’s not that funny, Takahiro! Get me a napkin please.”

“Nah, you look really sweet. Good enough to eat.” You weren’t surprised when he returned to kissing you, nor when he lifted you up by your thighs and plopped you on the counter. The kisses are sweet, lazy and perfect for a second kiss, and a third and a fourth. This is normal. His lips belong on yours. Your hands should be tangled up in his hair while his run over your waist and legs. This is right. There's no rush to deepen the kiss, both of you happy to just indulge in the warmth of the other, but it is inevitable. A soft nip at your bottom lip or an accidental tug of his hair, neither of you know what happened first but you both are staring at each other, panting lightly with a much darker gaze than the original flour induced makeout session.

“You are just as sweet as I thought. Gotta have a taste.” His voice is raspier than you’ve ever heard and you just let him move your body as he pleases. Pull your hips to the edge of the counter. Spread your legs as far apart as they’ll go. Lift your hips when he pulls your shorts and underwear down. Gotta act as sweet as he says I am. He has barely touched you but when he falls to his knees and just stares at your dripping slit that he's imagined for years, your eyes, you are already imagining how good he's going to feel.

You shouldn’t even try to think, his tongue exceeded any expectation or desire you had. Expertly flicking against your throbbing clit as he works two fingers in you. You feel the groan he lets out when he dips his tongue into your hole before you hear it. The vibrations reverberate up your spine and through your body, an all-consuming heat starting in your stomach, threatening to let loose, to run rampant on your body. His fingers, joined by another, return to your clenching hole and search for the spongy spot hidden deep inside. All you can hear is the blood rushing through your head, drowning out every other noise.

“C’mon love, cum on my fingers, on my tongue, I’ve wanted, dreamed about this for years, give it to me.” His slow words juxtaposed the fervent pace of his fingers and it was enough to send you over the edge.

You feel so hot you fear you might pass out, the groan Makki lets out beneath you is the only thing keeping you grounded. You were first concerned that you had hurt him in someway, but when you see his eyes roll back into his head and his tongue trying to lap up every single bit of cum you squirted on his face and thighs, you know it wasn’t due to excruciating pain, rather it's just an obscene reaction to you.

When you push him back, squirming with overstimulation, you hear him scramble and “Shit! Fuck! Fire extinguisher?? WHERE IS YOUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER???” You are still out of it until he starts actually screaming, words still evade you but he follows your line of sight to the red tube hiding in the corner next to the fridge. The smell of smoke is overwhelming all of a sudden. You were in a dreamlike post orgasmic state and suddenly your coughing, eyes hazy.

the cookies, SHIT THE COOKIES!! Smoke is billowing out of the oven and your fire alarm is blaring, but soon the room is filled with a white foam originating from Makki. You never realized that the foam would continue to expand until half of your kitchen was covered in it and you saw a sheepish looking Makki on the other side.

“Fires out”. Again, he starts to laugh at you, and this time you join him. Today has turned out entirely different than you expected. It wasn’t a sad day, it was filled with laughter, romance, an ill timed fire and Makki. All in all, a successful holiday, despite the fact everything you cooked was coated in foam. He’d seen you staring at the food and already took his phone out to order food, “Indian or ramen?”

Yeah, you think you’re grandma would be happy seeing you like this. Happy Holidays.

a/n: i don’t really know what this is but the image of makki being a disaster in the kitchen came to me one day and here we are. make sure you read the other fics in the collab

matsukawa’s funeral home winter collab

a/n 2.0: also a/o to @iwaasfairy for making that makki image that i used in my header. i love her more than i love him which say a lot

[bangtan-dreamland]

all i wanna do (is grow old with you)

Pairing: ot7 x gn!reader (a drabble for each member)

Word Count: 3430

Warnings: no warnings needed! this is basically just feel good u.u

Rating: pg

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: a small collection of moments in the domestic bliss you and him held.

AN: dropping this here for no reason other than to say yes I am alive strong power thank you

»»————-　♡　————-««

playfights are something that you always have to be on watch for with seokjin, with how mischievous he is. and at this moment, washing your dog, you are ever more on guard. or maybe not, because while you continue on lathering your dog's dirty fur, you suddenly feel a blob of something wet on your head. your hair, to be specific. you can feel the soap slide down like a boat would fall down a waterfall, you flash a glare at seokjin, who's suddenly looking all too nervous, eyes blinking fast, but the smile on his lips giving him away as the guilty apprehender. 'it was the dog!' he cries out, and you almost lunge at him- while he jumps away from you. 

'seokjin! get back here!'

'i'm innocent!' 

'no you're not, that was the worst excuse i've ever heard!' 

you both end up running around the garden, soap trailing behind your figures and bubbles behind you, laughter ringing out in the air as you try, again and again, to catch him. it's almost infuriating how your lover uses his longer legs to keep a healthy distance between the two of you. when you finally corner him, you're both out of breath, and the water has made your clothes cling on too tight to your bodies, but you haven't grinned or smiled or laughed as hard in a while, and the mirroring look on your lover's face makes you think it's worth it.

'it was an accident,' he insists. 'the dog threw it, not me.'

you can't even refute the ridiculousness of that statement. oh wait. you can. 'jin, the dog doesn't even know how to throw the soap! and definitely not on my hair!'

a look of pure incredulity shows on his face, pout appearing and eyes blinking fast as if it will help give him credibility, the dork. 'well, that's what it wants you to think.' he concurs with a mockingly offended, quite overly dramatic tone, complete with a vivid shaking of the head. 'but i saw differently!'

'don't you believe your husband?'

you burst out laughing, all over again, for some reason you can't even explain, your heart sosososo full of love. 'god, why am i even in love with you?'

(the two of you do clean up the garden afterwards though, the plants and furniture drowned while you weren't looking- not to mention you have to give the dog a bath all over again, as it rolled around in the dirt while the two of you were busy playing tag. 

seokjin, for his part, is completely unrepentant. you should be stricter, but...

well. at least he made you cookies afterwards.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

it's an hour after three when yoongi comes home, tired, drowsy figure almost collapsing on the sofa as he yawns. he almost falls asleep when you flick the lights back on, watching with no small amount of glee and (some) frustration as the man startles, almost falling off said furniture.

'you really have got to stop staying up until it's almost daytime,' you chide him, walking over to tug him up and off of the sofa, sighing as you card fingers through his matted locks. he looks up at you with the poutiest expression ever, and you steel yourself to not give in with the sheer amount of cute that has congregated to make the person named min yoongi in your arms. instead you amble with him up the stairs, the two of you making for a pair of sleepy, exhausted lovebirds. you'll have to put in first floor  bedrooms when you look for a house together, this happens one too many times already.

when you reach your shared bedroom, you push him into the shower, the water already heated up, while you take out a pair of pajamas.

drying his hair, when the both of you are prone to nodding off, is a herculean chore. still, it's not as if you're okay with wet hair on your pillow, and you know that's an easy way to get sick the next day for him. 'you were in your studio again, weren't you?' you grumble, although you're pretty sure he's fallen asleep already and you're talking to no one. yoongi, for all that he is there to take care of others, is surprisingly receptive to affection when left without a choice. 'i had to,' he surprisingly says, stubborn, but with a sigh, his tone quiet but firm. 'inspiration struck'. and you can't even argue against that, knowing full well how a muse is to her artist. so instead you settle for drawing him close, close, close, muttering softly.

'maybe i should ask if they can add a bedroom to the studio.' you feel him smile against your skin, voice close enough to murmur in your ears. 

'you know i'll only ever get to really sleep when i'm beside you.' 

you scoff. 'you and i both know that's not true.'

warmth against your skin, an arm over yours, and a leg intertwined, soft hair tickling your cheeks, and you feel as if you could head off as it is, but no. he has the audacity to speak up again.

'you are my most melodious lullaby, the sweetest good morning, the link between my dreams and reality. if you aren't there when i sleep and when i awake, then how do i know you aren't just something i've been dreaming for? that you’re actually real, and right beside me?' he presses a kiss against your skin, and, god, that smooth ass jerk, you refuse to look at him at all.

(you both wake up late that morning, and you find you can't complain in the end anyway. even though he always ends up staying up far too late, at least, you know this, you and him will always be each other’s first view in the morning.

not a dream, indeed.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'come on, love, dance with me!' you grin widely as you surprise hoseok, holding his hand captive in yours, the feather duster falling from his hands as you slide in front of him, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheeks. 

he splutters, 'i thought we were supposed to be cleaning,' he raises an eyebrow at you, but you only nuzzle your nose against his, clutching onto him with a pout. there is a standoff with the two of you ending up staring at each other with all the fondness you can feel inside you, one that you end up winning when he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

'dusting can wait,' you insist. 'we're both already filthy anyway!' he feels the laughter bubble up inside him, the helplessly fond smile he has reserved for you and you only showing. but you're not lying, the attic room has been a mess the whole day and one afternoon will not transform it instantly. which is why, rather, standing in the middle of the not-so-crowded-anymore room, the sunlight beaming down from the window and the radio playing out an old love song, you find yourself more inclined to drop what you're supposed to be doing, in favor of spending a few minutes to indulge. 

'your parents will get angry,' he points out, and you hum as you place your hand with his, his arm settling across your waist. this is far from what he normally dances, sharp moves and fluid spins becoming slow and sweet, the usual awe-inducing performance making way for intimacy in that private way, where the two of you are in your own world, closed off from the others. in this moment, you think that's not that far off from the truth. 

'they won't mind,' you shake your head. 'and we can just take a bath afterwards.' he leads you in a sort of glide, across the room, the melody turning and twirling you around, heart beating in both of your chests in a steady, steady rate, each in time with the music. and when he ends the dance, you in his arms, both of you slightly breathless, staring into each other's eyes, you find yourself wondering not for the first time if your lover is not warmth itself reincarnated, for how else can you explain away the feeling of being awash in sunlight, not a single part of you left untouched?

(what was supposed to take only a few days turns into a week and then some, but you can't feel regret for a single moment as the attic becomes filled up with memories you already cherish, a secret hideaway for the two of you.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'namjoon, come sit down on the grass with me,' you call out, pout on your face as you beckon your lover to come on over. han river remains sparkling no matter whether daytime or nighttime, the waters reflecting the city's beauty, and you are not the only admirer. still, there is something to be said about the way your lover looks as he falls into his thoughts. the two of you made plans to have a picnic here in the park, as the setting sun made itself known across the sky, but it's less of a romantic escapade than it is a moment of peace, a brief respite in your hectic lives. 

'we should have brought a blanket,' he finally says, but you interlace your hand with his, your fingers with his own, tugging him down. he easily complies for all that he complains, and you don't think even he can deny how the grass feels under you. staring up at the dimming sky, blue and red bleeding into gold and purple, the stars beginning to peek through the curtains of night, you find yourself drifting away, the lull of the city dragging you to rest.

'what do you think of the multi-universe theory?' you hear him ask. namjoon is looking up at the sky, and there is a familiar expression on his face that tells you he is thinking about the secrets of the universe yet again, of the human nature and how each and everyone is connected. it's when he looks a little dazed, eyes focused on something beyond, a wistful tone in his voice, and he falls quiet, but when he speaks his thoughts there is always a 'what if?'. 'i wonder if we'd met in other universes too,' he says simply. 

you laugh, gently. 'kim namjoon, if you are saying that there is a universe in which i see you and fail to love you, then let me reassure you now.' he looks away, a pout barely surfacing on his face, and you turn towards him, hands clasped together and your hair spread below you, the two of you picture perfect. 'maybe that universe does exist. maybe in another space and time, i wouldn't have the blessing that i have here, to love you as freely, as much as i can. but this isn't that universe, and nothing will stop me from staying by your side.'

by the end of it, your head is turned away with embarrassment, unable to take what might be his reaction. when you hear him huff, quiet, you turn around. what greets you is namjoon, blushing. 'what would i do without you?' he smiles, soft and sheepish and loving, and you roll your eyes, even as you feel yourself become something not unlike putty in this man's hands, a wave of love crashing over the sandcastle that is you. 'let's hope we never find out.'

(you spend hours in that park, talking about everything and anything, and when you go home it must be close to midnight. not that you regret it, though, when the two of you clumsily almost topple over each other, collapsing on your sofa, together, while you order takeout for the nth time because you're both too tired to cook.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

you don't think much of it, stealing jimin's clothes is as normal, as easy as that for you. the two of you practically share the other's now, a constant mismatch between your closet as what is yours and what is his is blurred, the lines toed and crossed over every time that it's simply easier to count your closets as one being rather than two.

still, it makes for a messy, uncoordinated space, and it easily slips from your mind, or his, of the whereabouts of your belongings.

'babe,' you can hear the pout in his voice. 'did you see my hoodie?' 'which hoodie?' 'my favorite one!' 'which favorite one?' at this point you see his head pop out from the doorframe, prominent lips stuck out and eyes searching the room. 'it's the green one, the soft, huge, green hoodie. that one.'

you stifle a rising amount of chuckles as you eventually realize the location of the hoodie in question- on your body, as you stole it from his closet just this morning. you don't think you can be seen as guilty though, not when the hoodie itself seemed to be begging for someone to wear it. impossibly soft, impossibly huge and impossibly sweet-smelling from the laundry softener you used, it was easy to drown in it and comfortably doze off. 'sorry baby, i don't know where it went.' 'okay, but, babe, can you help me...'

you startle as you surprisingly feel the shadow of your lover on your body, handsome face so suddenly, so dangerously close to your own, even if upside down. 'yn, you had it all this time!' you chuckle at the whine in his voice, even as he leans forward to try and tug it off you. 'give it now,' he says, but you shake your head, giggling as jimin tries. 'raise your arms! i can't believe you made me run around looking for this,' he grumbles, but you cross your arms instead, sitting up, turning around to face him, preparing yourself for a fight. 

'no way, this is the softest hoodie in the house. i'm not giving it up.'

a moment of silence, and then- jimin attacks you, lunging forward to glomp you. you feel yourself become confused, when you feel his fingers around your sides, and you burst out into laughter, long and loud. 

'no, jimin!' 

'give it back!' 

'no way!' 

'then suffer under my wrath!'

(he only stops when tears actually appear at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard, easily sprawling across your chest, the two of you on the floor and too tired to move. 'we can share,' you hum, choking as your lover narrows his eyes at you, before decidedly burrowing under your hoodie as well. with how big it is, and how not big both of you are, you surprisingly fit with him inside. it's too warm for two people inside, but as jimin lays his head comfortably across your chest, the thumping of your heart lulling him to rest, and he holds you in his arms, neither of you find you can argue against your positions.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

waking up with taehyung in the morning is an ordeal that never fails to make you smile. warmth pooling across the sheets, the warm breeze drafting in from the window, your lover's body wrapped around yours- there is a kind of holy in the way serene mornings like these are, quiet and golden, the world seemingly stopping for a moment, if only for the two of you.

it breaks your heart every time to have to shatter the illusion. 'taehyung', you whisper. there's not even a twitch in his movements, snoring quiet but steady as he continues off to slumber. you, however, can't get out of his hold, not without the man releasing you anyway- you would know, you've tried so many times before and it's always been a moot point. the only way to get out of taehyung's grip, is to wake him up into doing so. still, you find yourself soft and hesitant, every single time. 'taehyung,' you try again, a little louder this time. you shake him, and it takes you a solid minute or two for the man to actually make a sound, a low groan at the back of his throat. when he registers the situation at hand, though, your lover declines to release you, holding you captive with his embrace instead.

'stay in bed with me,' he almost whines, and you press your lips together to stop yourself from bursting into giggles.

'you know i can't do that,' you rebutt. 'i have work in an hour!' 

'but i can't sleep without you.'

'you big baby,' you fondly, exasperatedly call him out, and you see him briefly crack his eyes open, if only to look at you with a pout. 

you see him struggle whether or not to protest your words, before the sleepy takes over and he lazily agrees, pulling you closer in return. 'mhm, i'm your baby...' 

'taehyung...' 

'just a few more minutes, i swear,' he presses a light kiss on your forehead, and you know it's not just your imagination that you feel him smile against your skin, when you sigh loudly, relenting to his demands. 

'you're incorrigible,' you whine as you bury your head in his chest. 

'only because i love you.' 

you would call it a laugh if it weren't for the yawn that sneaks in at the end.

and just as easy as that do you both fall off back to sleep, your phone's alarm scaring the hell out of you half an hour later. it was practically a given that you'd end up falling back to sleep with him really, you could say it was a ritual at this point.

(you end up being late to work, as a matter of fact, but you can't even find it in yourself to be angry. after all, there is quite nothing like waking up together in the morning, especially with your lover.

he takes you out on a date to the amusement park that weekend too, so you suppose you can forgive him.)

»»————-　♡　————-««

'jungkook,' you muffle your laughter behind your hand, but there's no denying the bright grin on your face as you feel your lover's arms encircle your waist. bright and early, it's early enough into the morning that the sky is still caught between the hues of red and pink, like a rose slowly blooming from night's embrace. it's what makes your lover's apparent waking state a mystery, when you know how heavy your lover sleeps. there goes your plan to bring him breakfast in bed, huh? 

'what are you even doing?' you receive no reply, not one in words anyway, as you hear him mutter something unintelligible into your shoulders. his warmth against your back is addicting, especially in the chill of the morning air, but you're nothing if not determined, and if he's here to drag you back to bed, you're having none of it. 'if you're sleepy,' you start, turning around to hug him properly, jungkook's face nuzzling into your neck afterwards. 'you should go back to bed.' 'but you're not there with me,' you finally hear him say. 'just go back to cooking, i'll just stay here...'

'jungkook, i can't cook while you're wrapped around me!' you almost burst into laughter at that, what more at the earnest expression on your lover. 'why not?' he grumbles, a pout appearing on his face. you don't know whether to shake your head, or what- when your lover uses what he knows is his greatest weapon against you. 'don't give me that look,' you sigh, but your resolve crumbles quickly, and it's obvious that jungkook can see it as well.

'don't blame me if it turns out burnt,'  you finally sigh. you feel, rather than hear him chuckle briefly. 'i'm sure it will still be delicious.' 'you say that no matter what i cook,' you mutter under your breath and he stays quiet because you're right. instead, you finally feel him disentangle from your, rather reluctantly, before he gets his own apron and gloves. 'then i guess we should just cook together then,' he declares, bumping shoulders with you. 'can't mess it up then, can we?' he smirks, cocky and familiar, and you roll your eyes even as you feel yourself settle so easily by his side, the two of you finishing breakfast together.

(the food, amazingly enough, does not become burnt, and turns out well instead. of course, he did help you after all. still, sitting at the table, eating together, you smile easy, softly. how can you not? everything about this moment is perfect, and you wouldn't have any qualms about it lasting forever.

judging by the smile on jungkook's face, you aren't the only one to feel this way, too.)

[pokeexehasstoppedworking]

N x Gender Neutral Reader

The small hum of elevator like music played from somewhere in the center as you tapped your fingers in time with the ticks on the clock on the wall. How long did it take to heal up one little skitty from a small battle? Those were the thoughts that constantly passed through your mind as the merry go round of boredom still played on your face and mind.

Two hours and counting...

You groaned and face planted your head into your hands. This would be a Looooong wait. You could already tell by now-

"Chancey!"

You jolted at the sudden intrusion of your boredom and jumped back at the sudden pink blob in front of you. The pokemon center's resident Chancey happily smiled and tilted it's giant head at you. The little nurse hat on it's head and egg pouch adding to the nurse asthetic it rang out.

...You blinked. "Oh...Is Nurse Joy done yet?"

The chancey shook it's head before side stepping to the right to look past you. You once again grumbled and placed your head back into your hands in boredom, once again resuming the tapping the fingers against the counter. You didn't see or hear the doors to the center open behind you or the footsteps coming up behind you until someone came up next to you and spoke-

"Hello again."

You once again jolted and gave a look towards the newcomer who disturbed your new found boredom. The tall man adored a fluffy green waterfall of hair that flowed over one of his eyes and down his back in a long ponytail. He paid no attention to you as we spoke to the Chancey in front of you two-

"Chancey chance," the pokemon piped up in greeting.

"Oh? How nice. Nurse Joy must have her hands full today." He gave a soft smile at the pokemon likes he was having an actual conversation with it.

"Chancey?," it asked pointing a stubby arm at the small bag he carried.

"Oh, no. I'll need more than that. I'm going on a rather long trip, so I need a lot more than usually if you don't mind." He calmly held out the small shoulder bag towards the giant pink pokemon who gladly took the bag from him and gave off a happy sound at him. "I'll send Nurse Joy the money for the supplies soon. Would you please get what I need?"

"Chance chancey!" The pink pokemon happily turned away from the counter and happily waddled off for the back room where you assumed the supplies the man needed were.

After a few seconds of staring after the pokemon you glanced at the other human out of curiousity and noticed he was also silently staring off into space. Deciding it's none of your business you turn back to your usually head holding boredom. The typical fashion ensued with you waiting and staring ahead with the silent human, once and a while glancing at him out of curiousity before going back to your temporary routine. The next time you glanced back though you saw him staring back at you. You froze to say the least. The green eyes he had matched the flowing hair as he stared down at your smaller form. You blinked and gave a look around you to make sure he was actually staring at YOU and not something next to you before looking back up at him.

"....Uh....C-Can I help you?," you asked raising a eyebrow. Not quite sure what this was all about.

He slowly smiled. "Excuse me for my sudden rudeness. But I thought since you were looking at me that I might return the favor."

"Oh...Sorry about that, man." You gave off a sheepish smile before leaning off the counting. "I'm just a little bored. Y-Y'know how that goes."

Oh sweet mother of machomp. You felt bad now. If the guy knew you were looking at him it made you sound like a creep or rude, even if you didn't come off like that in your mind. But the stranger didn't seem annoyed, he seemed amused by this.

"It's quite alright. There's no need to be sorry. But maybe ask next time if someone prefers to be watched."

"Uh....Yeah. I-I'll do that."

Another moment of silence passed, and the two of you were once again silently staring in different directions. GOD! The silence was slowly killing you. You glanced back to the tall strange just for a second. He was the only one there and who knows. Maybe talking would distract you enough until Nurse Joy finally came back.

"So, uh..." He hummed and turned to you. God you felt like an idiot. Say something! "Where ya heading?"

"You mean my trip?" You nodded and he chuckled. "I try to never stay in one place for too long. I have a thing against....'some' people finding me out."

You weren't really sure how to take that. 'Some people'? Maybe he had some insane rivals or something. You shrugged it off. Lots of people had rivals and traveled constantly. It was normal for trainers to do this.

"Oh, I see. Are you packing for a long time?"

He chuckled. "You could say that? But enough of me. What caused your boredom here?"

"Oh. I'm waiting for my skitty."

"Oh. So you're a trainer? How nice."

You shrugged. "Yeah. But it's been a long waiting process."

"Oh? Well how long have you been waiting for?," he asked very interested.

"About two hours. It's taking a long time."

"Well perhaps the pokemon is in greater pain than the trainor realized? Sometimes we can't understand the pain and agony they go through because most trainers see them more as objects than actual living creatures. It's what makes me such a big fan of Nurse Joy and her establishments. She cares deeply for the ones she treats." He sighed and lifted a hand to his face to wipe at the bangs covering his eyes. "Maybe one day everything will change and we can look at everything in a new way, but for now my journey is still ongoing for the goal."

You stared blankly at him for probably longer than you've been staring at the clock for the past hours. Not quite sure how to take in the small speech he just laminated towards you. You were still staring when he turned to you and asked-

"But how rude of me. We started a conversation and I didn't even ask for your name. Who do I have the pleasure of talking to today?" He held his hand like you would when someone would give you a handshake.

"Uh..." Your brain shook itself to kickstart. What did he want? Your name? "Uh..It's (y/n)." You slowly reached out your hand to shake his. "And your name is...?"

"N."

"N what?"

"That's it. N plain and simple."

You gave him a confused look. Everything about him was strange especially his name. What kind of person just had one letter as a name? He still smiled and trailed his eyes down.You blinked and followed his eyes until you noticed that you two were still holding hands. You immediately wretched yours away and mumbled a "Sorry!". To which he chuckled at.

"It's quite alright. Wouldn't be the first time a lovely person wanted to hold my hand.~"

Your mouth dropped open and heat rose to your face as N smiled wider and chuckled-

"CHANCEY!" "There you are."

You both were snapped out of it as the resident Nurse Joy and Chancey were back. The Chancey holding a now full bag and a small cat pokemon was sat in Nurse Joy's arms.

"ADDI!," you happily chirped as the small skitty reacted to the name and gave off a happy chirp noise.

The skitty hopped from the counter and into your awaiting arms before giving off a loud purr, just as N reached over to take his bag back.

"Thank you," he said to the Chancey.

"Chancey chance-chance??"

"Oh,no. You've done quite enough for me. I'd best be going. Both of you take care. I'll send the money I owe when I can." He gave the two nurses a smile before throwing the bag over his shoulder and turning towards you. He gave a smile at your skitty before turning to your face. "Thank you for the talk. I hope your boredom doesn't last too long now."

"Oh,uh...Yeah. No problem."

He gave off one last smile before turning on his heel and back towards the automatic doors in the front. You watched him go while scratching you're now purring healthy skitty and the confusing thoughts continued to run though your mind.

What the heck was all that?

[cassiecasyl]

stay (said the ghost to the living)

I missed writing irondad. 

prompts: @whumpay2021 day 1: “I thought you were dead” + day 28: chains relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark summary: There’s chains holding him to life, saying it’s not his time yet. 

read on ao3! 

~~~

There had been a scream, Peter remembered as much. The concrete had been hard under his body as pain faded. A few tears had still burned in his eyes. The cold had come from the chain wrapped around his right ankle, the one he was now holding in his hands, and had spread over his whole body. There had been a scream so loud it rattled through his bones, so loud it could’ve woken the dead. 

Now, he was walking in a dream. Colors and shapes blurred together even though there was no wetness on his cheeks. His eyes just wouldn’t focus. Distorted sounds sometimes made it through, but never a word. He was alone. 

It must’ve been a while since it happened, whatever it was, because their surroundings had changed from dark and muddy grey to bright and sterile white. There was the light that always blinded Peter when he was in medbay— wait. Medbay. Someone was hurt. Please, no, don’t let it be— He sucked in a breath that wizzed right through his body as he turned around, the chain in his hands rattling anxiously while he looked around. 

Peter stood next to a bed, the room abandoned except for two — no, three, there was somebody in the bed, he couldn’t see, can’t see, can’t see, who is it? — figures. Somebody was watching him. They stood close to the door, as if they weren’t sure whether they were intruding. But also, where they could overlook the whole room. Peter narrowed his eyes, focusing on them. A blob of red, a frown framing sharp, scary and knowing eyes. Nat. Peter almost wanted to smile at her, to celebrate his vision finally focusing and because she would know what happened, but then he noticed the tear tracks on her usually stoic face. No. The teenager’s eyes widened in fear. 

He took a step back and raised his arms in an attempt to get away from under her scrutinizing gaze. Clattering noise shook his body— he had forgotten the chain in his hands. Nat’s eyes narrowed further. “Mrs Romanoff?” Peter whispered, but no air passed his lips. What had he done? Then, her eyes left him to search the room and Peter could feel himself fading. 

The only thing keeping him anchored to reality it seemed was the cold iron touching his fingers, grounding him, linking him to the very ground he was standing on, or maybe to hell. Peter didn’t know. They shuddered with him, shattering against its parts, one by one. This time, the hunched over figure by the bed looked up. 

Peter was found in those brown eyes, the very same color as his, just a tad darker, but something was wrong. His face was fallen, devastated, looking out with utter hopelessness and barely contained anger — the bad taste grief left. “Mr. Stark?” he asked, but was drowned out by the man’s breaking voice. 

“Stop it, Nat.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” the spy answered. 

“I don’t care,” Tony mumbled, returning his gaze to the body lying on the bed. Peter ventured closer, chains clanking and fingers itching to give his mentor comfort. “What’s that noise then?” Tony barked, not bothering to hide his frustration. 

Peter stopped short as he noticed who was lying there. It wasn’t possible. 

“I’m trying to figure that out.” 

They were mourning him. But— he was here, alive, wasn’t he? He looked down his body, but his vision was blurring again. Alive. His bones were freezing, bidding him a good night. Alive. Peter reached out to Tony, fingers leaving his burial iron in favor of the Iron Man. How could they not? Instead of stopping at the man’s shoulder though, they continued, invincibly, through his skin and flesh. In horror, he retreated his hand, mustering it under the unforgiving light of the medbay. He looked up at Tony. His mentor never even noticed. 

Dead. He was dead. How? The more he tried, the less came up. Where once was a beat, now silence reigned. Peter cried out devoid of tears. Where once was air, now was a void, and Peter knew he’d collapse into it, into himself. Why couldn’t he breathe? There was a black hole in his middle, and the more he struggled, the more it took, but he couldn’t stop. He shuddered and with him that damn, chattering chain. 

“What the hell?” Tony asked, more awake now, staring straight through him. His eyes could’ve been lasers, as much as it hurt. 

Chattering? Hold on— 

Natasha moved through the room, approaching and then walking away again, almost touching as she walked by. Peter already yearned for human touch. He was suffocating in space’s vacuum. Warm comfort was right next to him, yet he could never reach it. He was Tantalus in his pool deep down in Tartarus, never quite reaching the delicious fruit hanging above his head. He was so cold. 

They returned, stopping right in his center, somehow avoiding the black hole. It was impossible. He was burning up, his ice fighting the sudden human heat. Who was she? Peter blinked. He was swaying in and out of reality. Mom? No, why would he see his mom, she died when he was four, plane crash, remember? The reason why he never really trusted planes anymore. That, and Coney Island. Yes, he remembered. He was here. No reason his mom would be here, unless he was— oh. He was dead. 

“It’s definitely coming from here,” Natasha determined, and Peter grasped her identity. Nat. Mrs. Romanoff. Black Widow. Spider-Mama, as Clint had one time called her, imitating a Russian accent. After the glare Nat had sent him, no one dared to repeat the words. Later, she had teased Clint on his hilariously bad accent work. 

She was still standing inside him, and Peter could hardly imagine a more uncomfortable feeling. The shiver working through his body translated into hers and she stepped away, rubbing her arms. Peter breathed in relief only to once again realize that air was indifferent to him. Afterlife sucked, he decided. 

“Since when are there cold spots in the compound?” she asked. Mr. Stark frowned. 

Chattering, Peter thought again. Chattering. There was something— right, morse code! He almost hit himself on the head because damn his slow undead brain — was it undead? He’d established that he was dead, but how could he be standing here if he was braindead? Why was he still lying in a hospital bed instead of the morgue? Had Mr. Stark not given him up yet? FRIDAY would surely pick up his brain waves. There was nothing science could really tell Peter about this. It would be exciting if it wasn’t so frightening and lonely. Noisy rattling interrupted his thinking. 

He moved his chains around until he could clank two of its parts together rather than the whole thing sounding. It should work that way. Peter waited a calming moment before he began to bring them together with a dinging noise. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E. Short, long, short — R. One short again — E. Pause, and repeat. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E… 

“That’s morse code,” Nat said suddenly, bringing Peter back from the trance the dinging had brought him in. “‘I’m here.’ It says, ‘I’m here.’” 

“‘I’m here’?” Tony repeated. “Who’s ‘I’? Is this some kind of sick joke?” There was fear in his eyes now, masked with anger. Peter almost jumped. He stopped. 

“No, Mr. Stark!” he said in desperation, “It’s me! It’s Peter!” Then, remembering his voice, he morsed. Long, short; three long — NO. 

“No? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony stood up now, towering over him in anger, and Peter stumbled back. He remembered a scream rattling his bones in a way his chains could never achieve. He remembered the cold entering his body and nothing stopping it. He remembered how his vision became spotty before the black color filled it all. He remembered waking up. I’m here. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes and letting a tear fall. It burned his icy skin as it ran down his cheek and along his skin in search of a good jumping point. Finally, it left him. Wait— he’d felt it. He was crying. There was water in his eyes. He blinked them open only to find the two adults in the room staring at him. 

Awkwardly, he waved his hand, and the chain rattled along. Tony blinked. “This isn’t real,” he said, falling back into his chair next to Peter’s bed, never leaving the ghost of his kid out of sight. They could see him. Peter grinned. They could see him. 

“Oh, you’re a Shaniac. Good to know if this ever happens again,” Peter joked into the tense room. Nat let out a near-manic chuckle, and Tony only stared. Fear had turned to amazement and hope and a tear left his left eye. 

It was Peter’s turn to blink at his mentor. “You can hear me?” he asked, uncertainty lacing his tongue. A smile grew on Tony’s face and Peter couldn’t help but grin back. 

“Whatever a Shaniac is, it’s good to hear your voice, kid.” He stood up again and opened his arms in invitation. However much Peter would’ve loved to jump right into the hug, he couldn’t. He held him back with his hand, lightly touching Tony’s hand to show him. His illusioned hand went right through Mr. Stark’s solid body, just as expected. 

“No touch. Sorry.” As he looked back up at Mr. Stark, there were tears in his eyes. It was like watching his heart break all over again, and Peter choked on air that still refused to enter his lungs — it was as afraid as he was of the void there.  

Tony stepped back and Peter looked to the ground. “FRI, Give me footage of this room. Now!” Peter flinched a little at the harshness in Mr. Stark’s voice, but eventually came closer to spy on the footage too. FRIDAY had immediately designed Mr. Stark a holoscreen, only giving a quick verbal confirmation — “Right away, Boss.” 

They watched themselves sitting and standing there. It was almost dull and pointless, except for knowing where the cameras were. Instead of Peter, a glowing bulb hung in the air. The boy moved a little, watching how the ball followed his movements. “Cool,” he whispered. 

Tony glanced up at him. If he was surprised by Peter’s sudden proximity, he didn’t show it. “Ghost?” he asked. 

“Ghost,” Peter confirmed with a nod. It was the only possible explanation. 

Tony sighed. “Oh, for fu— goodness’ sakes, why must it be you to prove me wrong here?” he lamented and Peter chuckled. 

“Told you you’re a Shaniac.” 

“I still don’t know what that means,” the genius admitted, and Peter shared a quick, knowing look with Nat. “Now get the hell over here and back into your body!” 

“Tony,” Mrs. Romanoff said while Peter obliged, “are you sure this is gonna work?” Her voice was gentle yet stern, as if trying to soften a blow or stop someone from doing something stupid. It was hard to tell which one. 

“It’s worth a try,” Tony replied. 

Peter lay down into his body, but there was nothing. He could’ve just as well laid down on the ground. There was no uncomfortable feeling like with Nat, now heat spread from a living body. Nothing. He tried to connect, but there was nothing to connect to, all the links were dead. 404, not found. He could cry. 

He sat up again, leaving his body on the sheets, much to everyone’s disappointment. “Do you think you could try again?” Tony asked, the hope in his voice almost unbearable. He was set on this, and there was nothing that could make him veer from this path. 

“No,” Peter sighed, “I’m sorry. There’s just… nothing,” he explained. 

“I’m going to contact Doctor Strange,” Natasha announced with a new-found determination. She briefly squeezed Mr. Stark’s shoulder before leaving. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, only to be intervened by Mr. Stark. 

“No. No, kid. It’s okay. We’re gonna find something that works. And if not… Well, then, at least you're still here in this form.” Peter nodded, looking up at the tired and red eyes of his mentor. “And no ‘if this ever happens again.’ Because if this ever happens again, I’m gonna kill you myself. Or worse, I’m gonna call your aunt.” 

Peter blinked. “You haven’t called May?” 

Tony’s eyes found the side of the bed. “No,” he sighed heavily, “I wanted her to find out from me, but I— I just couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.” Peter could hear the tears in his breaths. 

“How long?” he asked. 

“A few— a few hours.” 

Peter nodded. Then, he drew Mr. Stark’s attention by waving his hand where he stared at. “Well, good news is, you’ve still got me around to annoy you.” 

Tony let out a broken laugh, but there was love in it. “God, kid, one day you’re gonna be the death of me.” It was a rupture in the small comfort they’d found. Tony on the ground, bleeding out, his helpless hands stupidly shaking as they tried to stop the flow. It was too late though. The light had already left his eyes. There was no going back. The teen tensed, staring up with big, unseeing, startled eyes; almost dead, or just hanging barely onto life. No. His father, Richard; Ben; not Tony, too. He knew it was meant as a joke, but the image wouldn’t leave his mind. He knew how close death was, how it hit when you least expected it. Hell, he was dead, right at this very moment. 

Tony seemed to sense his kid’s distress because he began apologizing. “No, kid, I’m sorry. God, this was stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t meant it, Peter—” 

It was a drowning noise in his ears. No, no, no. He had just become real again, he didn’t want to go back to the dream, to the fading realm where he was all alone. Where Tony mourned him. Where he couldn’t protect him, only watch without understanding. “Don’t die, please?” his voice was suddenly that of a scared kid — high-pitched and teary. He swallowed a sob. “Promise me?” 

“Well, everybody’s gotta die at some point, nothing’s immortal—,” Tony started with a sigh, but at the sight of his kid’s big, pleading puppy eyes, he stopped. “I promise,” he assured him. Anything for this kid.  

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!) @starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlockwhomentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi @peter-is-a-bean 

[stillebesat]

Wanted

Sanders Sides: Remus, Roman, Logan, Janus  Blurb: Remus knew one thing for sure. No one would ever want to Want him.  Inspiration: from This Post by @recipe-for-thomathy  Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Medieval!AU  Warnings: Fire (mention), Throwing things, Breaking things, Captivity/Slavery, Weapons Taglist in reblog. 

The door slammed open with far more force than even Remus was willing to use on it. Mostly because he knew from past experience how difficult it was to rehang that door after striping out the screws in the wood and snapping the hinges more than once.

“What did you do?!” Roman demanded, striding into his work space in his full regalia of King’s Guard. 

Huh. Come straight from the palace? That was different. Remus smirked, keeping his attention on the furnace in front of him, slowly spinning the rod and its molten glass load within to keep it from dripping. “Do?” He shifted his feet to get a better angle, the iron chain around his ankle that kept him from wandering away from the shop clinking softly as he moved. “Plenty I suppose.” 

It was him they were talking about, but to his credit he’d actually been pretty productive today instead of destructive. “Made six vases just this morn--”

Roman took out a scroll, letting it fall open. “You’re on a WANTED poster!” 

His heart skipped a beat at that, though thankfully, Remus didn’t drop the rod. He actually liked the neon green glow the glass was giving off this time. Maybe he could use it to create something far more interesting than a boring stagnant flower holder. Maybe he could make another pair of---no. It would be best to stay with creating the same old same old for a few more days at least. No need to draw any attention to himself.  

Remus drew in a shaky breath he hoped his twin didn’t notice as he glanced to the poster held in his brother’s hands.  

It would be best to not think about what he’d done last night. 

A once in a lifetime opportunity. 

A breath of freedom. 

A dream come true. 

His one and only Cinderella moment where it had felt so right to do what he did. 

Like he’d finally found his calling in life.

And if Remus had any dignity or common sense left he’d stomp down on that siren call and wouldn’t seek to draw any further attention or be anything more than a boring humble glassblower’s apprentice from here on out or he was sure his heart would actually shatter if he ever saw that particular smile again. That particular spark in the eye. That-.  

Remus pasted a smirk on his face, forcing the memory away. 

A dream should remain a dream. 

He raised an eyebrow at the figure on the paper as he pulled the rod out of the furnace. “Ehhhh. That’s not me.” He said, moving to the bench so that he could grab a block to continue shaping the glass. 

If it weren’t for the moustache -drawn a little larger than the little bit of hair he currently had on his upper lip thanks to a small accident with fire earlier in the week, Remus would have thought it was a portrait of Roman since the figure’s hair lacked the tell tale silver streak that marked him as an evil twin.  

No. Roman was the one with the muscles. The one with the handsome smile. With the knighthood. With his star rising insomuch that even foreign dignitaries were falling over themselves to stay in his good graces.

Remus...was just…himself. Stringy hair, crooked smile, multiple scars criss-crossing his entire body from previous beatings and accidents in the forge. Who only had enough strength in his limbs to work glass instead of far more durable, sturdy, and useful materials like wood or iron. 

After all, Glasswork was quite the useless skill when they were in the middle of a war with the neighboring country and needed blacksmiths to create more weapons rather than glassblowers to make pretty cups for parties.

No. Remus let out a slow breath, placing the block back as he returned to the furnace to ensure his current project didn’t harden before he was finished. 

There was a reason why the silver streak had marked him instead of his twin as the evil one. The bad guy. The one who could do no good despite the very obvious proof that Remus could accomplish some good or else no one would be buying the glass objects he created. 

No one seemed to mind that he’d been marked as evil so long as he didn’t go too crazy in front of the patrons when they came to get their stupid little paperweights, flower vases, dinnerware, and sun orbs.

Of course the cursed chain around his foot did a lot to assuage any of their fears of him running rampant. 

If only they knew just what he had done last night. Just where he’d gone. How he’d freed himself from the stupid chain for a few hours to bring--to bring---a gift….to---

“Not--” Roman took a step forward, armor clanking. “It looks JUST LIKE YOU!” 

“Looks just like you too, or did your big fat egotistical head forget we’re identical?” Remus shot back.

Mostly identical. Even if he didn’t have the moustache, Remus was certain people wouldn’t ever mistake them for each other. As kids...probably, but he’d never know for sure since his--their mother chose to leave him out in the woods to die and be found by slavers instead of doing the sensible thing and dropping him off at the orphanage with all the other rejected evil halfs. 

Roman had only been a thorn in his life for the past six months or so after stumbling into the shop while breaking up a brawl that had started at the pub up the street. That was hardly enough time for them to even begin to get to know each other, let alone their quirks. 

Even then, with their on and off brief interactions, Remus knew that Roman only kept coming to see him more out of a morbid fascination of how his life could have been different if he’d been the one born with the silver in his hair rather than wanting to form a genuine familial connection with his long lost twin.

Roman scoffed, resting a hand on his sword. “You know it can’t be of me! I know better than to risk interrupting the peace talks going on at the palace!” 

Remus rolled his eyes, returning to the bench. Peace talks. A freaking ball was now considered a part of those never ending peace talks? They might as well parade the visiting Prince and his entourage around the streets again every day for a month instead for all the good those peace talks were doing. 

At least the foreign Prince was someone different to look at when he did come through town.

And…despite the rather accurate portrayal...Remus couldn’t see why a Wanted poster would be created for him. It wasn’t like he’d hurt anyone. It wasn’t like anyone knew who he was. Not when he’d come in disguise! He hadn’t even talked to anyone beyond---and that was only to explain his--the...gift. 

Unless showing someone how they could see far more clearly was now a crime. No. Remus had had his moment to shine and then he’d returned to the forge like a good obedient mutt to his hovel and destroyed the evidence--most of the evidence--without anyone being the wiser.

“Remus. I know--”

 “No you don’t!” He snapped. “For all you know, maybe we have a third twin brother running around because why would you think it would be me on that Wanted poster, Oh Highly Favored of the King, when I obviously can’t go anywhere?” Remus purposely kicked his foot so the chain trapping him in this place rattled, the sound echoing through the air as he picked up his second favorite tweezers in a shaking hand. 

Not that he intended to use it. No. Not now.

Wanted. 

His brother had managed to...emotionally compromise him and that wasn’t good for working with glass. No it was only for destroying it. A pity. He truly had liked the color on this one.

Remus kept his head down, acting like he was still working as he rolled the pipe back and forth to keep the shape intact. “When, unlike a certain free born goody-two-shoes, I’ve never been wanted in my entire life?”

The Master Glassblower didn’t even want him. Remus had only ever been considered a tool to be used until it wore out. A slave brought in to be worked to death and only taught glass blowing because the greedy old miser wanted more product on his shelves and had to admit as he aged that he couldn’t keep up with demand nor stay near the heat of the forge for as long anymore.

Lucky him, Remus had actually shown a talent for the craft. He could only imagine the sloppy blobs that would be on the shelves now if the Glassblower had bought any of the other slaves on the auction block. 

So long as it meant more gold in his coffers the Master hardly cared whose work was selling. And when the war happened, he’d allowed Remus to keep the shop open while he was off aiding the war effort in the forges nearer the front lines. 

And with him left in charge of the shop...it meant that Remus had finally been able to create what he wanted to create. To experiment. No one was there to stop him. To tell him what to do. To care. 

“What do you mean you’re not wanted?” Roman took a step forward rolling up the poster. “I--”

Remus snarled, hurling the molten glass like a spear in his twin’s direction, watching as the glass on the pole shattered upon impact with the wall, before focusing on the way Roman had stilled, hand flashing to his sword, eyes wide.

Give him a break. He knew better than to throw something directly at his twin, not if he didn’t want to die on the spot for attacking the King’s own personal guard. 

He turned away, tossing the tweezers onto the bench. “If YOU wanted anything to do with me brother you wouldn’t have left me chained here when you first found me!” He clenched his hands as he crossed his arms, resisting the urge to continue destroying things. “You wouldn’t keep coming back to stare at me like I’m a freaking circus act while you pretend you want to get to know me. You. Don’t. You Never Did. So DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT I’M WANTED.” 

No one had truly wanted to see him. Not even with that particular unbelievable encounter last night. It didn’t mean a thing and would never happen again. A shooting star only ever shown for a blink of an eye before going out. 

“Remus.”

Roman had no right to sound so--soo pitying!! If he’d wanted to change things he could have. But he hadn’t. 

“No need to rub it in Mr. Perfect. I know I’m not wanted. How could I ever forget when Evil Twin has been my label my entire life?! So take your stupid Wanted poster and Get. OUT.”  

Get out before he lost the remaining shreds of his self control and actually hurt him. 

The door behind him creaked as it slowly opened. 

“Remus, please. You have to know that wasn’t--”

So Roman did want to see the forge destroyed today. Fine. FINE. He snatched up another rod with a snarl and whirled only to drop to his knees, rod clattering to the ground as he pressed his face into the dirt, heart pounding harder than a hammer to an anvil in his chest upon seeing just who was standing behind his brother.

In retrospect the uniform should have clued him in that his twin hadn’t come for a social visit. Or alone. 

“Ah.” Roman cleared his throat. “My High King Janus. Visiting Prince Logan.” He said formally. “May I present to you...my twin brother, Remus, apprentice glassblower to Apollos, a Master Glassblower who has gone to the front lines to assist the other Smiths there.”  

Remus closed his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together. He was so screwed. No wonder the portrait in the poster had been so accurate despite his disguise. The High King could see deceptions around him as easily as a bird could fly. Of course he’d see an evil twin in disguise and keep an eye on him. Especially after what he’d done--but Remus had been sure he’d escaped notice right after---after----

And to have the Prince--Prince Logan...right here...in his shop---he hadn’t expected to ever see those glorious green eyes again, let alone see the Prince still wearing the glasses that Remus had created and gone to the palace to give him last night.

“So.” 

Remus flinched as footsteps approached him, the silky voice of the High King ringing in his ears. 

“This is our little forge rat who disrupted the ball last night?” 

Disrupted?! Remus fought back the protest rising in his throat, fingers digging into the dirt. Sure he’d stolen the Prince away for a moment to ensure the glasses properly fit. That the Prince could see through them. But he hadn’t disr--He’d been very careful to be good! Even created a fashionable enough garment with colored glass in order to blend in with all the nobles decked out in gemstones so large and heavy it was a wonder the richies could move at all. 

He jumped as warm fingers trailed down his cheek. 

“I would hardly say he was disruptive.” Prince Logan remarked as he lifted up his chin, the corner of his mouth twitching when he met Remus’s eyes, his own no longer narrowed in a squint but wide open with wonder as he traced the lines of his jaw. “Nor would I say that you’re not wanted either, Remus.”  

Remus gulped, heart pounding even harder in his chest. It wasn’t fair how his name on the Prince’s lips made fuzzy embers spark in his chest.  

Logan gently tilted his head back, his thumb running along Remus’s moustache. “There was a reason why I stayed up all night with the royal painter to ensure that your portrait was accurate. And that was so I could find you as soon as possible. But I see,” His green eyes sparked with delight, his other hand raising to adjust the thin wire frames sitting on his nose. “That I was not quite as accurate as I wanted to be, but I suppose that can be forgiven considering my distraction at how clear the world has now become for me thanks to you.”

“You are certain.” High King Janus asked, hands hidden in his gold silk robes, head tilting to study Remus like a hawk studies a mouse as Roman came to stand beside him. “That he is the one you seek, Prince Logan? That he is the one who gave you...sight?” 

“He is.” The Prince confirmed without hesitation. 

The High King raised an eyebrow. “I find it hard to...believe that one born with silver in their hair could be--”

“Remus is the best glassblower I’ve ever encountered, my King.” Roman said, raising his chin as the High King turned to him, unafraid to look him in the eye. “If anyone were to create the ability to see from blown glass, it would be him.”

More fuzzy embers fizzled around Remus’s stomach as he side eyed his brother. Roman...actually thought he was good? At glassblowing? He’d never said anything before--

High King Janus hummed, waiting until Roman broke eye contact before again returning his eagle stare on Remus, golden eyes glinting in the light of the forge. “Considering your own skills, Sir Roman, I would be unsurprised that your other half would be just as creative in his own right. Even more so if he is to be the bridge that finally brings peace to our kingdoms.” 

Remus blinked, fidgeting in place, his fingers digging into the dirt so he wouldn’t try and touch the Prince because he liked his hands too much to lose them. “Bridge?” He asked before he could also tell his tongue that talking was a very good way to get it removed with a hot poker. “What bridge? I can’t--” Surely they didn’t expect him to build a bridge from glass! How would that even work to bring peace? The thing would shatter with one wrong strike of a horse’s hooves! 

Logan smiled. “You can, Remus.” He said before gesturing for Roman to come forward. “Free him.” He commanded.

Surprisingly, his twin didn’t hesitate, quickly moving forward with his sword drawn as he focused on the chain around Remus’s ankle. 

It really wasn’t fair to hear his name spoken like that! Like he--like the Prince actually cared about him. 

Remus fought to hold still, to not look away from Prince Logan’s forest filled eyes to see what his twin was doing with the lock and if it was the same method he himself had used last night to free himself.

“I want you to come with me.” Prince Logan said softly, stroking Remus’s cheek as he maintained eye contact. “To my kingdom. Let me show you how much we want you there. Need you. Your gift with glass, there are so many of us, so many who would fall to your feet to see as you’ve shown me to see. Come with me, Remus.” He dropped his hands again to Remus’s dirty ones, squeezing them gently. “And I will guarantee that you will not regret it.”

Remus made a noise of disbelief, frozen in place, unable to comprehend that these...that the Prince---No one wanted to be around an evil twin!

And yet.

Prince Logan had yet to draw away or show disgust or revulsion upon discovering that he was the evil half.

“If you go with him, the war will stop.” High King Janus intoned. “Both sides will withdraw. Peace will finally be reestablished in both lands.” 

The war would stop? Over him? It didn’t--

Remus drew in a shaky breath as the chain around his ankle that had been his constant companion the last four years fell away with a soft clank for the second time in the past twenty-four hours as Roman took a step back with a faint smile his eyes shimmering with--was his twin actually about to cry? Over him?!  

“But you--you don’t even know me.” Remus whispered as the Prince pulled him to his feet, guiding him outside to the waiting royal carriage. To--to dare he say it? To freedom if he so chose to take it.

“No.” Prince Logan agreed, giving him another smile as he once more adjusted his glasses, the lens flashing in the sunlight. “But I want to.”

[thinkyoureholy]

Oceandust [6]

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Pairing : Kim Hongjoong / [fem] Reader

Genre :Angst, Violence, Language, FLUFF, Smut, Pirate!Au

Words : 3.1k

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P. O. V. [one week later] -

I sat down with a sigh, reaching for the bottle I kept on the coffee table but before I could wrap my fingers around it something blocked my hand. I cursed when my fingers crashed against the glass bowl, pulling my arm back. I looked at the hand that held the bowl, following the arm that was connected to it up to look at his face, a frown finding purchase on my face.

“I made porridge.” He simply said with a smile on his face, pushing the bowl towards me until I finally took it.

I looked down at the sad looking thing, the gray color unappealing, “I’m not hungry…”

“Just eat a little bit even if you’re not hungry, it’s not good if all you have in your stomach is alcohol.” He said in a light tone, the smile still on his face.

I looked up at him with a brow raised, a bit skeptical over eating something that looked like a gray blob, “Hongjoong really...I-”

“You either eat on your own or I spoon feed you.” He interrupted, the smile on his face gone as he went to grab the spoon but before he could I grabbed it firmly in my hand. I grumbled as I spooned some of it up, almost gagging at the thickness and smell coming from it. I grimaced when the substance touched my tongue, finding it difficult to get past the texture and flavor or lack thereof. I chewed the spoonful that was in my mouth as quickly as I could and swallowed, staring down at the rest of the bowl with a frown.

“Hongjoong do me a favor, yeah?” I asked, my gaze glued to the abomination in the bowl.

“Anything.”

“Please never set foot into the kitchen ever again,” I said, completely serious, finally looking up at him, “This is horrendous. How do you manage to ruin porridge so badly?”

He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he cheeks took on some color, averting his eyes, “Is it really that bad?”

I held a spoonful up, silently telling him to open his mouth so he could taste his own creation. His eyes widened slightly before he opened his mouth, letting me feed him. The moment it touched his tongue he froze, a shiver visibly going through his body as he tried to chew through everything that was going on in his mouth. I stifled a laugh, offering the bowl so he could spit it back out. He quickly spit it out, taking a few chugs of water to clean the horrid taste off his mouth before he plopped down onto the couch next to me. I let out a soft chuckle, putting the bowl down on the coffee table. I was tempted to grab the bottle of alcohol once more but I thought against it, sitting back. I glanced over at Hongjoong, grinning as I watched him stare down at his hands with his brow furrowed. 

Hongjoong had been here for about a week, claiming the couch as his overnight. After what happened his first day back I had offered him Yuri’s room but he refused, saying the couch was all he needed. I tried arguing with him that it wasn’t very comfortable on the couch but he insisted. After a while I had finally grown tired of arguing over it and I let it go, giving him a pillow and blanket to use. I was a bit less apprehensive towards him after the first day, quickly becoming used to his presence once more. I had told myself I offered him to stay to save him the money he’d have to spend to stay at an inn but that was far from the truth. I...wanted him to stay, scared of being alone, of being abandoned once again. It had been so long since someone besides myself was in this house and it had started getting a bit suffocating being alone for so long. I practically begged him to stay.

“Hongjoong?” 

He hummed out in response, prompting me to continue.

I stared down at my hands on my lap, twiddling my fingers, “How long do you think you’ll be staying for?”

As soon as I asked I felt his gaze on me but I refused to meet his eyes. I didn’t want him to see the disappointment in my eyes when he told me he wouldn’t be staying for long. I know people like him tend to go from one place to the other, never staying in one place for too long. I mean, that’s what happened the first time so he can’t really blame me for being so guarded. Just as I was thinking this he reached over, grabbing one of my hands in his and with the other he cupped my cheek gently, lifting my face up so I could meet his gaze. 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” He said with a small smile, the look in his eyes a foreign one, “I meant it when I said I came back for you. I missed you so much I thought my heart would leap out of my chest with how it yearned to be by your side. I won’t leave until you ask me to and if I have to leave due to some unforeseen circumstances you’ll be the first to know, I promise. But to be honest I might try and convince you to come with me instead of leaving you behind like last time.”

I inhaled sharply at his words, my eyes darting from one of his to the other. I don’t know if he realized what he just said because if he did he wouldn’t be this calm about it. Ah, you’re killing me here Hongjoong… I groaned internally, a grin finding its way on to my face to hide how I was feeling. 

“You know that’s the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

The moment I said that his face went beet red. I laughed as he pulled his hands away from me, sitting back against the couch cushions. He sputtered for a second before finally giving up, covering his face with his hands as he let out a low groan. I grinned as I reached over to run my fingers through his hair but just before my fingers could touch a strand of his hair my hand froze in mid air. The grin I had on my face fell, a frown replacing it as I pulled my hand away. I averted my gaze, furrowing my brows as I stared intently at the coffee table in front of me. 

I can’t keep leading him on like this. I’m not stupid, I know what the look he gives me means but I’ve been ignoring it this whole time. As much as I would want to share his feelings and I’m sure the me from four years ago would’ve happily returned them, it's just-- I’m not the same as I used to be. Even though he’s stopped being as pushy as he was that first day he came back I still catch him trying to pull the old me back to the surface. I understand it might be hard for him to accept that the person he feels so strongly for is gone but she really is, after everything I’ve been through it would be more worrisome if I didn’t change at all. Though I knew that person would never come back I found myself trying to go back at times, maybe I was afraid he’d get sick of me and finally leave. And right now...being alone was the last thing I wanted.

I shook my head, ridding myself of those thoughts, forcing a smile back on my face as I rose from the couch, “C’mon, let’s go.���

He finally looked up, raising a brow, “Where to?”

“To get a decent meal. No offense but I don’t think I can stomach another spoonful of that thing.” I said with a hint of humor in my voice.

He furrowed his brows, a pout on his lips but he offered no words of protest. Instead he got up and grabbed his coat, opening the front door for me, “After you.”

. . . . . .

-Hongjoong’s P.O.V-

“You know when you said you wanted to have a decent meal I thought you meant we’d be going to a restaurant or something not...well not here…” I trailed off as I followed after her, maneuvering through the people in the pub.

“What do you mean? They have the best food in town here. Isn’t that right Archie!?” She yelled out towards the cook in the back as soon as she reached the bar, leaning against it.

“Damn right!  What can I get for you?” He asked, stopping what he was doing to give her a massive grin.

She mirrored his smile, her whole face lighting up, “Surprise me.”

He nodded and turned back to focus on what he was doing. I turned to her, opening my mouth to say something but before I could get a word out someone else beat me to you.

“What have I told you about coming here on your day off?” Eunwoo asked, giving her a stern look as he cleaned a mug.

She turned her grin to him, “Oh, c’mon you know you love having me around.”

He rolled his eyes but I could see the corners of his lips curl upwards the tiniest bit before he forced his lips into a frown, “What’s the point of me giving you a day off if you just spend it at the pub anyway? It was hard enough to convince you not to work for one day during the week, at least stay home and rest. One of these days I’m going to ban you from coming in here.”

“You say that but you always have my favorite drink ready for me,” She said, her grin somehow growing.

He sighed heavily, setting down a mug full of what I assumed to be her favorite drink, “Go easy this time. I don’t want to have to carry you home like last time.”

She chuckled softly, grabbing the mug, “Thank you, Eunie!” 

And just like that she turned on her heel. I followed her with my eyes, watching her take a seat by the window. I sighed and turned back to Eunwoo, glaring at him. He chuckled at seeing the look, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. You know how hard it is to say no to her.” 

“That’s not what I’m glaring at you for, ‘Eunie’. Since when have the two of you been so close?” I asked, unable to stop the jealousy from oozing out of my tone.

He quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, “Oh? What’s this? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

I flinched at his words, having to hear them out loud had a blush crawl its way up my face. He snickered as he set the mug in his hands down in front of me. I took it begrudgingly, taking a swig of the ale he had poured inside. 

“She’s a beauty I’ll tell you that much. But sadly for her and fortunately for you I prefer my significant other to have something extra in between their legs if you catch my drift.” He said as he placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, glancing down for a second before bringing his eyes to meet mine, “Wait actually now that I look at you closely you’re pretty easy on the eyes.”

I froze for a moment, placing the mug back down as I cleared my throat, “Please, you wouldn’t last a day with me.”

Eunwoo smirked, “You think so?”

I mirrored his smirk, leaning in closer so our faces were inches away, “Oh I know so.”

I chuckled as I leaned back, taking the mug of ale and began to head over to where Y/N was but before I could take a step in her direction Eunwoo’s voice stopped me, “If you’re jealous over every man that talks to her then I’m assuming you love her more than words can describe, right? I mean why else would you come back and stick around...”

I sighed heavily, turning back around to face him, propping an elbow on the bar, “I do. But she doesn’t feel the same…” I trailed off, lowering my gaze, “But I don’t really care if she doesn’t love me back, I’m satisfied with being by her side.” I said with a smile, looking back up into his eyes. 

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “If she doesn’t even remotely feel the same way she wouldn’t be staring at you like a lion staring down its prey,” He said with a look of amusement in his eyes, a grin playing at his lips, “Look, I can't exactly say what she feels for you but there is something there. The look she has in her eyes now is the same as the one she had years ago, around the time you came around to be exact. And… I have to admit it’s nice seeing her smile without having to force it.”

I gazed out over the pub, my eyes meeting hers. She gave me a brief smile, lifting her mug before bringing it to her lips. The corners of my lips lifted ever so slightly, the look on my face probably the fondest look I’ve ever worn. 

“She’s had it rough these past few years and she hasn’t really opened up about it. We’ve tried but we don’t want to push her away or to have her push us away. I think you have a good chance at getting her to talk and somehow get past the trauma she’s been through.” He said, sound concerned. 

I gave him a small smile, reaching over to give him a pat on the shoulder, “She’ll talk when she’s ready. I’m just glad she’s still here, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I came back only for her not to be here anymore…” I trailed off, a lump forming in my throat at the thought. I rid my mind of the thought, shaking my head before I pushed myself off the counter, finally leaving to head back to Y/N but what the sight that greeted me was a bit of a shock. 

Y/N was sitting exactly where I had last seen her but this time she wasn’t alone, she was surrounded by members of my crew, the most notable one was Seonghwa who seemed to be whispering something to her in her ear. I wrapped my fingers around the mug in my hand tightly, seeing the smug smirk on his face as he pulled away from her, glancing over to where I stood. That little shit, he’s doing that on purpose, I thought as I walked over, grabbing the back of his collar and pulled him away from her. 

“What are you scheming this time, Seonghwa?” I asked, well, hissed out really. 

“Me? Scheming? Never.” He scoffed, feigning innocence, going to put his arm around her shoulder but I grabbed his arm before he could. 

I narrowed my eyes as I squeezed tightly, “Don’t just touch her without her permission.”

“Why? You do it all the time.” Y/N interjected, her words catching me off guard. 

“Huh?” I was caught off guard, the hold I had on Seonghwa’s arm loosened as I stumbled over my words, flustered by how nonchalant she was. 

I could feel another blush crawl up my face as I finally said something, “I… I’ll stop if it makes you uncom-“

“Hongjoong.” She said, cutting me off as she reached over and combed her fingers through the hair on the back of my head, “I’m messing with you. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, at least not when you do it.”

Her words rendered me speechless, the blush I already had on my face only deepened. It was then that I finally noticed the shit eating grin her and the members of my crew were wearing. I was confused, feeling as if I was missing something. 

“You were right, Seonghwa.” She said, her grin mirroring his as they shared a knowing look. 

My eyes darted from her to him then back again, a groan falling from my lips as I covered my face with my hands, “I hate all of you.”

They all laughed, ignoring the glare I was giving them. Just as I was about to walk away Y/N got up from her seat and came to stand behind me, draping her arms over my shoulders and hugged me from behind, her chin resting atop my head. 

“Oh c’mon we’re just teasing. You never told me you had people like this in your crew.” She said as she leaned further down so her lips were mere inches away from my ear. 

“I didn’t mention them because then you’d want me to introduce them to you. And I knew you on Seonghwa would click immediately and make my life hell,” I murmured, tapping the side of my head against hers gently, “But if it makes you happy then I guess I’ll just suffer silently.”

She laughed softly, her breath fanning my ear, “Thank you.”

I raised a brow, pulled away slightly so I could look at her properly, “For what?”

“For not giving up on me. I know I’ve been a handful and that I’ve said...some choice words to you since you’ve been here but I am grateful for you. I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted living the way I was if you hadn’t come back,” She said in a low voice, a bashful smile on her face as her eyes showed more than one emotion, I couldn’t keep up, “I know I’ve told you time and time again that the old me is never coming back but...with your help I think she just might, even if it's just a small part that comes back.”

I looked at her in shock, her words causing something in me to stir and before I could stop myself I leaned forward and captured her lips with mine, already thinking up an apology for when I pulled away. I ignored the whistles and jeers from my crew and cradled her face in my hands, deepening the kiss. Even if she could no longer be the person she was before I loved her, I loved the person she was before and I loved the one that I came back to. Whether she turns into a complete stranger to me I will continue loving her, And I will help her get through this. I’ll make up for all the time I spent away and for being gone when she needed me the most. I just--I wanted to make that look that had just crossed her eyes for that split second of time to disappear for good.

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Series tags : @myjiminmychimchim @atinyarmyx1​ @shaniquacynthia​ @utopiakys​

General Tags : @mirror-juliet​

[steverogersnotebook]

Neighbors - Sofa Date

NEIGHBORS

Recovering TJ Hammond and Steve Rogers (between TWS/CW) who try to find comfort on sleepless nights through baking, music, and friendship. An offer to share company and their mutual talents when being alone is just too much leads to friendship.

(my inbox is open for ideas, prompts and headcanons)

NEIGHBORS fluff | gen [platonic friendships] / Steve & TJ Hammond | minor romance TJ & OMC Julian [SERIES of oneshots]

[read on ao3]

A/N: I started this for Valentine’s Day 2017 or 2018. I don’t know what the holdup was, It’s been almost complete ever since. Well, better late than never!! TYSM every one!

The heavy bag landed atop the previous three, in no better shape, all losing their fill through the ruined covers, causing Steve to wonder if he’d ever find something that could stand up to his strength and frustration instead of prematurely exploding.

Though these troubled nights were on the decline with the catharsis of baking and having friends like Sam and TJ, sometimes, baking just didn’t cut it and he was loathe to push himself into his friends’ space - again - and Steve would resort to a little controlled destruction.

Tonight wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d tried to get some rest after the call came telling him that in a few hours they were ‘wheels up’. It had been fruitless and resulted in a run. He’d amped up his speed and set a course for himself that should have done the trick, but after running fast and far, Steve’s run and subsequent shower didn’t put him any closer to a settled state.

Next try, the kitchen, resulting in cookies and fudge. Ordinarily he wouldn’t bother with something like that in the hours before a mission, knowing he’d be gone for an unknown number of days, but tomorrow was Valentine’s day, and he’d yet to figure out what to do for TJ.

Even though TJ wasn’t alone this year for the holiday, it felt like a tradition. He didn’t have many of those left, so it just felt like something he had to do.

Making fudge from his Ma’s recipe had brought both her and Bucky’s sister to mind. The memory of their childlike joys - from sampling the finished product to trying to cut the fudge into shapes with a knife, not just simple boring squares, to entertain Becca - and the rich aroma had provided all the comfort he’d expected.

Clearly, Steve thought as he unwound tape from his wrist, It just wasn’t enough to quell the agitation over the continuing uneventful search for Bucky and the stress of the impending mission.

So that was how he wound up tearing up heavy bags in a dimly lit gym. He really did need to find a new schtick. And he definitely needed a second shower.

Lying across his bed after his shower, unable to relax - still - Steve laughed at his naive expectations. He reached toward the end of his bed to drag his t-shirt to him as he sat up. Steve tugged the thin fabric over his half-dried hair. He stretched the soft, worn fabric hem over the waist of his pajama pants.

“Might as well finish the thing,” Steve’s voice echoed through the quiet space. He shuffled his stockinged feet across the smooth, clean floor. The glow from the light over the stove led him to the frosted confection. Fingers that had sported bruises when he came home, but were now perfectly pink gently tapped at the icing to see if it had set up.

Satisfied with the firm, smooth texture, Steve inspected the box made from cookies for any weak points before filling it with heart-shaped fudge pieces. Overkill? Maybe, but he could laugh it off with TJ. The thought propelled him out the door and down the stairs until he stood in front of TJ’s door, in his pajamas.

Oops.

He wondered if this was the best idea - if it was even ‘proper’. Shoving doubts aside in favor of not spending the next few hours sweating over yet another physical distraction or tossing and turning fitfully, Steve knocked on the door.

---.---

TJ was just putting the finishing touches on the last of the heart shaped cake pops that he’d decided to bravely tackle on his own, when the knock on the door startled him. Well, maybe he could salvage it, he thought as he wiped his fingers on the flour sack towel and headed for the door.

He wasn’t expecting the sight of Steve standing in the doorway wearing brightly colored socks, brown plaid pajama pants, and a stretched out, yet still too small purple t-shirt threw him. He looked -- anxious.

“Steve, you okay? Come in.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d bring this by.” Steve looked around the apartment as he handed TJ a heart-shaped box, made from layers of cookies. “I’m not interrupting?”

“Of course not. Thanks, wow. This is -” TJ lifted the top cookie that doubled as a lid, to see heart-shaped fudge inside the hollowed out cookie box. “Beautiful.”

“Ma’s old recipe.” Steve’s smile was a weak attempt.

“I can’t wait to try it. Come, sit down.”

“It’s Valentine’s day, you must be expecting Julian, I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Valentine’s Day Eve, and nope, not expecting him until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Steve sighed. His relief was almost as palpable as whatever was troubling him. “TJ, would you mind playing something - I don’t know - mellow?”

TJ didn’t bother asking, again, what might be bothering Steve. He simply made yummy sounds as he set the box on the piano.

They both sat, Steve heavily on the sofa and TJ eased onto the piano bench. His fingers touched the keys and the first thing to come to mind was the tune Steve had requested the night they’d met. The wan smile from moments ago softened and Steve closed his eyes. Two and a half tunes later, Steve sighed before sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, you do have plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Me? Other than some iffy cake pops, no, but Julian says he has something planned for me. Miles is with his mom this week.”

“How glad are you that Miles and I broke the ice for you two?”

“Are you still trying to take credit? You know it was my legs and ass,” TJ chuckled.

Steve’s smile eased some more. “I’m glad it’s working out, TJ.” He rubbed his palms up and down the length of his thighs before sitting back against the cushions again. “I’ve got to head out in a few hours.”

“More top secret stuff?” TJ turned away from the piano keys.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “You know, just once I wish I could confide in someone outside of it all.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you considered talking to a therapist?”

“I did think about it. I can’t figure out how it all works now. With everything - I mean with S.H.I.E.L.D. - it had to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. approved doctor. You know, definitely not outside. Then after - who’s qualified? Who’s not a security risk? I’d rather talk to you. You, I trust.”

“That really means a lot, Steve.” TJ couldn’t begin to express how much it meant without losing all dignity. Not that Steve probably thought he had any. “If it gets to be too much, you still could. I know a thing or two about security.

Steve pulled his feet up onto the cushion, the limber bastard looked deceptively small just now.

“Hey, you wanna see what I’ve been trying to do?” TJ knew it was a lame attempt at a topic change, but it was less awkward than a pained awkward silence would be.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve looked over his knees at TJ.

“Steve, are you frightened?”

“No more than usual. Just - when will it stop? I thought it was over when I woke up in this new world. It wasn’t. I thought we were doing something by bringing S.H.I.E.L.D. down. We didn’t.”

“You did, rousting so many corrupt agents and supporters,” TJ lunged forward in his urgent attempt to mollify Steve, nearly toppling the piano bench. “I mean -”

“Thanks, TJ. I know what you mean. There are still cells out there - and it doesn’t feel like we’re ever going to find the end. So -” Steve uncurled from the compact shape and surged to his feet - feigned energy mingling with whatever the serum did to make him quick and agile. He followed TJ to the kitchen. “- What’s your project?”

“Valentine’s gifts for my best friend and my boyfriend.” TJ knew that he still flushed when he said the word, but Steve wouldn’t harass him for it.

“I’d rather be watching Miles for you two to go on your date tomorrow.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Possibly a week. Hopefully just a week.”

TJ plucked away the blob of now hardened icing that had plopped over the edge of the heart “I was doing well, the knock on the door startled me. You think I can salvage it?”

“Yeah. Hey, these look great. If you can get most of that off so that it’s flush, you should be able to give it a little touch-up with the red. Then you can go back to decorating.”

“I was going to do roses, but gave up early on. Hearts are my speed right now. Maybe I can practice roses before Julian’s birthday.”

“Of course you can. Maybe we can figure it out together.” Steve spread his hands across the flat plane of the countertop, “If you’d like.”

“Of course. It’s your fault I even considered this. You should have to do the time.”

“Where are the rejects?”

“Nonexistent,” TJ said, fighting a grin. “Not as in ‘TJ didn’t make any mistakes but this one’ - but as in, ‘I ate them’.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head “I should have known.”

TJ painted red candy coating over the white spot on the damaged cake pop with a surprisingly steady hand, considering how close he was to laughing at them both. “How’s this?” He held the confection towards Steve for inspection.

“You’d have to know about the mistake to find it, but if you’re nervous about it, you could give that one to your best friend and pick out the pristine ones for Julian.”

“Says my best friend.”

“Me?” Steve’s feigned surprise was terrible.

“You don’t go undercover do you?”

“Occasionally.”

“Well, don’t get yourself caught and killed, okay? Cos that was terrible acting. How do you feel about a Valentine’s Eve pizza and movie until you have to take off? Or you’re welcome to crash on the sofa if you just want to unwind.”

“There will be no crashing for many hours,” Steve confided. “I’ve had this nervous energy for several hours, went to the gym. It helped a little. Got home and tried to unwind and now I’m here. Pizza does sound great.”

“So, did you snag yourself a Valentine this year? Anybody going to be disappointed you’re ditching them on the big day?”

“No, I haven’t been looking. If you’d like, I can have Nat give you a call and you two can plot against me?”

“No, hey, if you’re happy - that’s what matters.”

“I sent flowers to Peggy. They’ve moved her back to England. I think I’ll stop by before I come back.”

“Might be just the thing.” TJ picked up his phone to order pizza. “The usual?”

“Hm. Yeah, sounds good. Am I overthinking the dating thing?”

“Probably. It seems like you’re trying to avoid a long-term thing, and in the process you’re missing out on good company and fun things like shows, dinner, and weird but enjoyable adventure dates. I’m not the only person who likes those things, Steve.”

“You’re saying I’ve been using you as a surrogate?”

“People have asked if we’re dating. Even after I started seeing Julian. I don’t mind it, it’s good for my reputation. You’re probably suffering in that department though.”

“I’m willing to take a hit for your burgeoning reputation,” Steve teased.

“That’s why you’re my best friend. Here - bestie - Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Steve took the offered arrangement of cake pops with a warm smile. “Thank you, TJ. You’re not getting any flak from Julian about our friendship, are you?”

“Hell no. He loves that you sized him up both in and out of the Iron Man costume. He was intimidated enough to ask if there was something between us. But I let him know the only competition he has is if he messes up your pastry apprentice.”

“Damn straight,” Steve laughed.

--.--

Music filled the Audi but it might as well have been silent for as much attention Julian paid the noise. His mind was chock full of loneliness. The same thing that he experienced every time he had to drop Miles off at the ex’s.

He tried to think ahead to his Valentine’s plans for TJ. A late brunch, followed by an afternoon and evening on the town. It should be enough to sustain him through the night, but the glaring silence that he’d pretended to look forward to - the lack of childish glee and minor tantrums - made him restless.

Long fingers stroked a strong, smooth jaw before clicking the car stereo off and turning the car toward TJ’s apartment.

He recognized the pizza delivery guy as their regular from TJ’s favorite pizza joint. As they both got out of their cars at the same time, he nodded toward the guy, “223?”

At the nod of recognition, Julian smiled. “Let me take that off your hands.”

“It’s already paid for,” the kid spoke up when Julian reached for his wallet.

“Right. Then this is for you.” Julian smiled. “Thanks. Be careful out there.”

The kid took the cash and grinned. “Thank you, you too - uh - I mean - have a good evening.”

Julian saluted him as he passed, balancing the two jumbo pizza boxes on one hand. He carried them inside wondering if Steve had stopped by, TJ wasn’t expecting him and that was a lot of pizza. Julian let himself in, as he was accustomed to doing, and stopped short when it looked like Captain America might take him out without hesitation.

--.--

They both turned toward the door when it opened. TJ wasn’t surprised, but Steve - unaccustomed to this type of visit - was nearly to his feet, prepared to fight. TJ had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. “Jules, you startled us.”

“I come bearing pizza, is that enough to cover the price of admission? And buy forgiveness?”

Steve backed down instantly, knowing Julian wasn’t a threat. Still, he appeared ready to bolt without notice.

TJ met Julian with a kiss, which went a long way toward alleviating his loneliness.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You think there’s enough for one more?”

“I see you accosted our delivery person.” TJ followed Julian around the sofa, trying to take the boxes, before giving up and letting Julian set them on the coffee table. “Did you tip well?”

“Of course.” Julian passed a large hand through his wavy hair before putting his palm on the side of TJ’s neck, “Do I look like a barbarian?”

“Jury’s out.”

“Hi Steve. I really hope you don’t mind me crashing. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Julian,” Steve nodded, the momentary shock had melted away and he smiled at the friendly greeting. “I know the feeling. The more the merrier.”

“What kept you up?” TJ asked as he opened the pizza boxes and lined them up in front of Steve and Julian.

“Too quiet.”

“Miles is with his mom,” TJ laid a hand on Julian’s wrist. “You really should be having celebratory naps when he’s with her, that little one is always going.”

“That he is.”

“Must be hard,” Steve said. Loading his plate with slices of pizza, he again considered leaving. He just couldn’t get behind facing the loneliness. He definitely understood too quiet. It might be more permanent for him than for Julian, but the feeling wasn’t easy no matter how long it prevailed.

“Just the first few days. It’s so much easier to adjust to his coming back than his being gone. He loves it there, she’s really a great mom. I just - I’m learning how to behave in both worlds.”

“Let’s eat and watch a movie, maybe that will distract both of you for a bit.” TJ moved past them both to turn the television on. “None of that I hope I’m not in the way nonsense from either of you.”

Steve sat back against the cushions, his plate piled with slices of pizza balanced on the sofa arm next to him. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, for now,” Julian teased, tossing napkins on top of the pizza boxes.

“I’m offended,” TJ pouted as he sat heavily on the cushion next to Julian, and sprawled half across Julian’s leg.

Steve snickered before taking a bite of one of his slices of pizza. The trio settled into the comfy sofa in hopes that the movie could distract them.

<<<>>>>

The vibrating phone in his pocket woke Steve. At some point in the movie, the sleep that had eluded him all evening had taken over. He didn’t bother looking at the phone, just slipped out of TJ’s apartment, leaving TJ and Julian snoozing on the opposite end of the sofa.

He tapped a quick reply to Sam, and took the stairs by twos and threes, silent except for one stair that creaked if you breathed on it. In his apartment, he sent TJ a thank you and another Valentine’s day wish before grabbing his gear from beside the door, deciding that he could change clothes on the way. Off to Lagos, for what he hoped would be a quick recon mission.

[raleighcarrera]

16. Best Tattoo vs Worst Tattoo for Raleigh x MC because I am addicted to how you write them

best vs. worst prompts / 16. best tattoo vs. worst tattoo

the worst tattoo 

she squints, eye-level with raleigh’s hipbone. “but... what is it?”

the huff he gives, as he reaches down to swat at her arm, is exasperated. “it’s a diamond.”

cadence’s grin spreads, her pointer finger poking at the -- admittedly blurry -- tattoo. “as in... baby you’re a diamond, let me give you a ring?”

raleigh’s silence is answer enough. then he sighs, “shut up.” 

“talkin’ bout forever,” she continues, “i’m not here for a -- raleigh!”

cadence wiggles where she’s suddenly flipped beneath him on the mattress, laughing as she squirms in the sheets. “oh my god, you’re such a baby.”

“you’re a baby,” he insists, pinning her flailing arms down to the bed above her head. “you’d better watch your mouth.”

“oh yeah?” she challenges, lips splitting into a grin, “what’re you going to do about it?”

“you won’t like it,” he warns, settling more fully on top of her, pressing her down with his weight. “but... if you stop being a brat, i’ll tell you about the tattoo.”

her eyes widen, and she nods as innocently as she can, pursing her lips shut. “i promise. let me up!”

he does, and they lay side-by-side in bed, shuffling until they’re sharing the same pillow. her eyes drop back to the tattoo at the top of his thigh.

“so -- it was the night of our album release party,” he starts, voice heavy and serious as though he’s telling a story of great loss and not something that’s objectively hilarious, “i was sixteen and very, very drunk. obviously i should not have been allowed to get a tattoo, but -- what artist is going to say no to raleigh carrera?”

“unbelievable,” she murmurs, and then, when he arches an eyebrow at her, “sorry -- continue.”

“so me blair and cameron kill the bottle of patron and blair is like, we’re going to be best friends for the rest of our lives, this is unreal, our lives are changing forever -- yadda, yadda, yadda. the album debuted at number one and everyone was freaking out. i was a kid with more money in my bank account than i knew what to do with. anyway, cameron was the one to suggest the matching tattoos. he said if we all got diamonds it’d manifest the album going diamond.”

“okay, but -- that’s so cute. so -- are you telling me you all have those blurry little blobs on your legs?”

raleigh rolls his eyes. “well... i went first.”

her teeth bite at the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh. “oh, no.”

“yes. those fuckers backed out as soon as it was done. i could have killed them. but at least it’s small, i guess.”

“sure, but... why does it look so --”

“bad?”

she nods hesitantly, her expression curious.

“well, it was, like, four o’clock in the morning. i don’t know that anyone should be tattooing that late. and i think it’s probably gotten worse with time.” his hands slide slowly up and down her arms, the expression on his face thoughtful. “i almost got it covered up, when we first met. but then you did that whole -- your past and your present can coexist, thing, and you changed my mind.” 

cadence’s eyes soften when they meet his. she leans in a little closer, until her nose bumps into raleigh’s affectionately. “that’s really sweet.”

he shrugs, as though it’s nothing -- but it’s not, and they both know that. their lips meet gently in a brief kiss.

“you know...” one hand dips below the sheets to curl over the tattoo below his hip. “it’s not so bad.”

the laugh he gives is closer to a scoff than anything else. “it’s pretty bad.”

“yeah, but it’s part of you,” she argues, expression warm, eyes bright. the look on his face lightens, and something like tenderness creeps into raleigh’s eyes. “and i love every part.”

“corny,” he mumbles, just before he pushes her back down flat for kisses again.

the best tattoo 

“are you sure about this?”

raleigh grins at her from where he’s already shrugging out of his shirt, buttons undone and fabric falling to the floor. “positive, babe. i’ve been saving the perfect spot for it.”

“you’re out of your mind,” she mutters, shaking her head good-naturedly as he settles into the tattoo chair, chest pressed to its front. raleigh waves her over while the artist finishes setting up behind him, and she goes, slipping her hand into his.

he thumbs at the engagement ring taking up a majority of the real estate on her hand, his eyes suspiciously soft in the studio lighting. 

“nervous?” she asks, squeezing his fingers. 

“nah. i’ve done this a thousand times. bet you i won’t even flinch.”

“big talk from someone who hasn’t had blood work in five years because of the needles,” cadence hums, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from her fiance.

behind raleigh, the tattoo artist holds the cocktail napkin with the design printed on it aloft. “we’re still going with this, right?”

“right,” raleigh chirps, “smack dab on the shoulder.”

cadence peeks around and sees the sketch already in place. her chest feels tight with affection, her stomach doing happy backflips. “it looks sick,” she admits, teeth digging into her bottom lip to stifle a smile. 

“how could it not?” he asks, his mouth twisting into that familiar smirk that’s had her heart racing since day one. “you’re looking at art, right there. that’s the world’s most perfect set of lips.”

“oh my god,” she laughs, as even the tattoo artist chuckles, “shut up.” 

her gaze flits down to the napkin, sitting innocently on the table. her own lip print, stark red when she’d first kissed the napkin last night but now a little faded, stares back at her. 

they’d been at some dumb, boring industry party when it came to him. there were plenty of people who tried talking to them, but raleigh led her around the room by the hand until they’d dodged every last one of them and found a corner of the space to be alone in, grabbing a tiny table by the kitchen where no one would bother them.

he’d ignored the food and drinks in favor of kissing her for what could have been hours, until her mouth felt sore and her jaw was tender from the repeated scratch of his stubble. still, she sighed wistfully when he pulled away to let her breathe, just as dumbstruck by what an amazing kisser he was as she had been that very first time their lips had met backstage.

“i can’t wait to kiss you for the rest of my life,” raleigh had murmured with his hands cupping her face, pressing first into her jaw and then the corner of her mouth, trailing his thumb along her lipstick-smudged bottom lip. “you have the most perfect mouth.”

“raleigh,” she’d breathed, so overcome with love and affection for what felt like the most perfect man that she had to kiss him again, eagerly, until the rest of the room melted away. 

“seriously, though,” he’d said, staring at her in fascination as the tip of his thumb disappeared into her mouth when they broke apart again, “i have an idea.”

and that was how they found themselves here, with her squeezing his hand and smiling sweetly at him while her exact kiss print was inked onto his back, right in the little spot on his shoulder where the rest of his tattoos ended and she so loved to press her lips, in the mornings when she found him in the kitchen making coffee or in the shower when she slipped in behind him or even above his jacket, if there were other people around, and her arms folded around his waist from behind, just because she wanted to say hello and couldn’t resist the temptation.

“check it out,” the artist declares finally, when the buzzing has stopped and the ink is wiped away, just before she’s about to tape him up. “it looks great.”

she steps around to get a good look at it, and, yeah -- those are her lips, stuck on raleigh carrera’s body forever. smudged-lipstick imperfections and all. “holy shit.”

“lemme see,” he demands, shifting in front of the mirror and twisting around eagerly. “oh, dude. it looks awesome.”

she stands around dazed as raleigh gets dressed and exchanges fist bumps with anyone in the studio who will offer them, signing everything puts in front of him and passing over a stack of cash so fat no one will ever know they were here.

it’s only when they’re back at their penthouse that she says, “i seriously can’t believe you did that. this is, like, the single greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

she knows he’s about to say something hopelessly cheesy by the goofy grin that takes over his face, at odds with the way the adrenaline from the tattoo still has his pupils blown wide. “fitting,” raleigh replies, tugging her towards their bedroom before she’s even got her shoes and jacket off, “that’s exactly how i feel about you.”

[highsviolets]

the sweet secrets of loving

summary: Obi-wan returns from deployment with a sweet surprise

word count: 1.8k+ (what)

cw: brief mention of war/deployment 

A/N:  after discussing Obi-Wan’s culinary abilities with @thespareoom​ and @obitwo​, this little one-shot popped into my head last night and it wouldn’t leave me alone. this is so soft and i just -- if you need me i will be yearning // shout out to @afogocado for finding this gif (if it’s yours pls lmk so I can credit you!)

the sweet secrets of loving, a fic by corellians-only 

Silver keys seemed to dance in your hand as you fumbled with the lock, the metal glaring in your face as they reflected the merciless fluorescent lights bearing down on you with foreboding.

After several agonizing moments spent twisting the key, trying to locate the elusive sweet spot that would permit access to your apartment, the stubborn thing acquiesced and the door swung open.

He was already there. A feeling like a soft summer breeze swept over you at the sight his buzzed auburn hair, his pride and authority etched into his shoulders like the precise stitching of his combat uniform still clinging to his back. He was staring out the window, and you could tell from the way his thumb curled around the unit insignia on his left ring finger that he was anxious.

“Darling?” you called out, mustering the last dredges of your willpower to not sprint to his side.You simply waited by the door, setting down the cumbersome black box of files your boss had insisted you take home this evening, no, really, it would be most helpful if you could compare the spring and fall mockups tonight. The box of responsibility rebounded off the hardwood floor and skidded slightly, blending in with the muffled closing of the door behind you.

It was no matter, anyway. The box had barely escaped the protective gaze of your fingers when he was pulling you into him. His head bowed down to nestle in the crook of your neck and you laughed as his fine hair tickled your cheek. You pressed a kiss to his sheared locks. “Hello, Obi-Wan,” you whispered, as though speaking any louder would bring a curse upon you both, would take him away from you again.

At the sound of his name, Obi-Wan straightened and took your face in his hands. His thumb drew angels across your cheekbones. “Darling,” he breathed. Aquamarine eyes met yours. It felt like getting caught in the hail — confusion, wonder, a homecoming of understanding, a bite of pain.

When the two of you video chat during his deployments, his eyes are always darker. They’re steel and iron and the reflection of your keys in the hallway and the torment of a sea during the storm as it fights against the waves.

Every time he comes home, they change. They become lighter, the way his body does without the Kevlar bulletproof vest.

When he looks at you like that — like the world would burn and he would still go to war to fight for you alone — your resolve shatters, the way a window must when his bullet crashes through its pane, searching for the sniper.

Your fingers grasp his wrists and tug at the end of his sleeve. The pink of your painted nails contrasts horribly with his camouflage, and the absurd thought makes you laugh even as he dips his head in acquaintance to your nonverbal command.

The first kiss is simple, like the routine act of walking from the metro to you apartment. Routine, familiar, but not unexciting. A expression of the vibrancy of life. Your lips meet his, like an embrace, and stay there for several long moments.

A second kiss, the third, the fourth: these are more demanding. The way his hands slip under diaphanous emerald silk tells you that this is more like a carefully timed assault. His mouth is precise and exacting, his tongue pushes back against your claims to dominance, his fingers press into skin and yours clutch at the unforgiving fabric of his uniform.

You disconnect and he smiles, a steady, even thing that shows his teeth. Even so, it threatens to split his face in two, and the dust that seems to be shedding from his laugh lines makes you wonder the last time he was truly happy.

But you ascend to your tiptoes and kiss his cheek and banish all thoughts of his deployment, at least for tonight. “C’mon, Obi-Wan.” You take his hand and start dragging him to the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”

____

It is not until later that evening that you discover his secret. Padding into the kitchen, you open the fridge to retrieve a new bottle of sparkling water when something strange caught your eye.

“Obi?” you say. The hike in your tone matches the spike in your anxiety and unease. “You didn’t happen to pick up some tofu in miso when you went to store earlier, did you? There’s uh —“ you pause, staring at the blob in apprehension — “something…weird in the fridge.”

“Ah.” He follows your path into the kitchen and steps behind you to better see the object in question. “I see you’ve found dessert. I wondered how long it would take.” Amusement colors his tone, and you turn your head to see a smirk decorating his lips.

“Oh.” The unassuming expression is the only thing that enters your vacuous mind, consumed by the strangeness of the oval-shaped yellow-and-caramel colored mass. You run your fingers through your hair — now freed from its stuffy updo — in an attempt to wrest some meaning back into your existence. “What, um, what is it?”

Obi-Wan extends his arms and catches you in an embrace from behind. “It’s a flan, darling!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Obi-Wan squeezes your waist in excitement and you lean back into his chest, comforted that its soft cotton of an old t-shirt that greets you, rather than his fatigues.

“Oh.” Emptiness returns, and now the exoticism of the strange food is coupled with curious revulsion that Obi-Wan is so interested in something that seems so…unappealing.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and gently scoots you out of his path and puts the platter on the counter. You watch him as he gathers plates, washes fresh utensils, and meticulously cuts the thing, taking care to add extra sauce to each slice. He thrusts a plate at you. “Try it,” he urges.

You don’t like dessert. Never have. You’d rather eat something savory than something sweet, and after years of failed attempts, Obi-Wan has largely given up. But here he is, staring at you with those aquamarine eyes, practically begging you to try this foreign sweet treat.

So you do. The custard is smooth, like the silk of your top, and flecked with spots of intense vanilla flavoring. Caramel oozes into every bite, rich in tone and balancing the tenderness of the egg and sugar.

“Oh my god.” You meet his eyes, and you can tell he’s valiantly staving off another grin. He never presses his lips together like that otherwise. “This is — Obi, this is amazing. Like, vintage Chanel kind of amazing.”

He laughs aloud at your comparison, taking the two plates and reassuming his previous position on the couch.

“I’m glad to hear you enjoy it, sweetheart.” He erupts into another round of chuckles when you moan around the next bite.

“What did you say this is?” you point to the concoction with you spoon.

“Flan, dearest,” he says mildly, taking a bite himself. “Ah, you’re right, it did turn out rather well today. My mother would be proud.”

The statement gives you pause, and you set down your spoon. “Your mother? Wait — did you make this?”

Obi-wan looks at you, surprise evident in his half-smile and narrowed eyes. “Of course I did! Where did you think I got it?”

“I didn’t know you could bake!” The statement is bald, and childish, but you don’t care.

“How did you think all the cookies and tray bakes appeared, then?” He raises an eyebrow mischievously. There’s nothing he loves more than poking holes in your logic, especially when you cling to it so resolutely.

“Oh, I don’t know!” you splutter. “I suppose I thought you bought them, or something!” You throw him a mock glare. “Not my fault you never told me that you bake.”

He launches himself forward and drops a conciliatory kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’m very sorry, darling,” he says seriously, but there’s a twinkle in his eye so you shove him away from you. The gesture is playful and wondrous in its innocence, and for a moment you feel as though you are in university again, staying up late in the student lounge talking, long before uniforms and obligations and separations. You want to say something but the words get caught in your throat as you remember your promise to leave the boots behind. At least this one night.

“What is flan, anyway? When did you learn to make it?” you say instead, forcing the words out and taking another bite. The sweetness caresses the bitterness lingering in your mind.

“It’s a long story,” he says, shifting his gaze to the window.

You place an hand on his bare arm. “I want to hear it,” you say, and you do.

So he tells you. He tells you of his French mother spending her childhood summers across the Pyrenees in Spain, learning dishes like arroz con pollo and tortilla española and flan. The family cook become a grandmother to her, he says, and again he plays with the unit insignia on his ring and you know he misses his mother more than ever.

Flan became his mother’s speciality, he explains. He points to the sheen on the custard and talks about how his mother learned how to perfectly beat the eggs and how she favored the caramel sauce against the hard caramel on her native country’s creme brûlée and how the family cook in Spain gifted her with her very own flan pan when she was eighteen years old.

You ask him how he came to bake such things. He smiles again and despite its joy, your heart aches because you never knew. While his father was deployed, he would bake with his mother to keep her company, and she taught him tarte tatin alongside flan and the Bakewell tarts his father so enjoyed.

“It was how she told people she loved them,” he says with a shrug, finishing his portion. “She would bake for the other women whose husbands were deployed, or for the family next door, or for my best friend’s cousin’s birthday, or if I had a bad day at school there would be something sweet waiting for before I went to bed.” Obi-wan rests his head on his hand, considering. “I guess I’m the same way. I came home and I wanted to do something nice for you, to tell you I love you.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, Obi.” The pun is bad and you both know it, but he laughs and kisses you anyway. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I love you too,” you murmur against his mouth. “Will you bake me something tomorrow?”

“Darling,” he presses a kiss to the edge of your lips. “I will bake you something every single day if that is what makes you happy.”

And you say you want him to, because you want him to love you forever.

[abduct-me-helen]

Class 108's Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 4.

“So, are we going to talk about it? Or….” Martin asked, looking at Jon with an expression he found he couldn’t decipher. The chatter of class 108 filled the comfortable silence that would usually occupy them on their journey.

“About what?” Jon avoided the question, turning his head back to check on the rest of the class. They’d originally formed two lines, headed by Jon at the front of both and Martin at the back. That had quickly fallen apart, and now they were more of a…blob, if anything.

Martin gave him a look. “I still don’t know how you’re smiting things here! I was about to ask you before we came across the school, but I decided it was best to wait until we calmed down a bit.”

“I-I killed it. I have the power, so I…so I killed it.” Jon turned his head away, facing decidedly frontwards.

“Yeah, but like, how? I’m-I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what actually happened.” Martin gestured, confused and frustrated.

“I-It’s hard to explain. We’re coming upon a domain of the,” he grimaced, memories of dirt and choking and pressure momentarily overtaking him, “buried. I would really rather-”

The sound of knocking cut him off, and the squeak of hinges made everyone silent. Static crackled, and Katie, ever alert, got out her knife just before Rosie silently directed everyone to draw their “weapons.”

Jon didn’t know what a pencil sharpener would do to the distortion, but he didn’t want to find out.

Martin turned, confused at why the quiet had set in. “What-”

“Look down, Martin.”

“Oh.” He paused, startled. “Wait, what?”

“No one get to close!” He called, running his hands through his hair and sighing. “Hello, Helen.”

“Oh, Hello! In a better mood now, are we? Feeling safer now that you know how to kill? And you’ve got a whole gang with you! How exiting.” Her eyes seemed to light up, literally.

“YEET.” Tabitha threw a pencil sharpener at Helen, but her body seemed to twist and absorb it in impossible ways, making Tabitha’s head hurt. She shook it off. “Stay away from us! Begone thot!”

The rest of the class began to recite various vines in agreement.

“GET REKT!” “YOUR MOM’S A HOE!” “WALK AWAYAHAYAHAYHAY”

Martin facepalmed. Jon exhaled, forcing down the urge to scream.

Helen blinked, then her mouth pulled into an impossible grin. “You’ve got quite a crowd here, don’t you Archivist?”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Touch them, and I will end you.”

Helen laughed and echoing laugh that hurt his ears. “Oh, Archivist. You really have grown! But no, I’m here for a chat. We are friends, aren’t we archivist? Allies?”

He gritted his teeth. “Sure.”

Martin butted in. “Will you tell me how he did it?”

“Martin-” Jon protested.

“He just keeps on being all vague about it.” Martin complained. Helen seemed to light up.

“Oh goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, Jon? He’s coming to me for answers.” She cackled, and Jon glowered.

“Shut up.” He said.

She giggled. “It is very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing the vague information? You can see why Elias got a kick out of it.”

“Elias?” Rosie questioned. “Isn’t that your boss?”

“That’s Eyeball Daddy’s sugar baby.” Tabitha told her. Rosie made an ‘ah’ noise of recognition.

Helen cackled in delight. “That’s what you’re calling him? Oh, I like you.” She grinned, and Tabitha made an awkward face. What was she supposed to do, when she’d somehow won the favor of an eldritch door person?

Take it like a champ, I guess, she thought.

“Don’t.” Martin said protectively.

“Don’t what, love?” Helen asked, batting her eyelashes. (Literally, bats flew out of them).

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, stay away from them.” Helen pouted as Martin finished.

“But you aren’t any fun.” She said, her mouth curled downward in mock sadness.

“Look-just, just explain. Please.” Martin changed the subject, imploring her to alleviate his confusion. Jon glowered, but stayed decidedly still.

“Well,” she began, sporting a sharp grin, “We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger, the Buried, the Desolation, all of us. But the Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: The Watcher, and the Watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And John, well-he is part of the Eye. A very important part. And he’s able to, shall we say, shift its focus. Turn the one into the other. And for those of us whose very existence relies on being feared, well: to be turned into a victim destroys us utterly. And very, very painfully.”

A silence fell over everyone, before Cypress broke it.

“So, what you’re saying is, the clap of his ass cheeks alerted the Eye?” He questioned, ginger curls bobbing as he tilted his head.

“Eyeball Daddy.” Raphi muttered.

Helen sported a look of delight, before cackling once again. She wiped a tear from her eye, and Rosie noted that it was the color of a highlighter. As it fell to the ground, the grass it came in contact with seemed to glow.

“You really are fun!” She declared gleefully. “Archivist, for someone so dour you certainly have lively company. Who are all of you then?” Her head twisted unnaturally in interest.

Elliot instinctively looked to Rosie, and shrugged when he met her eyes. Her own were narrowed in thought, before she shook her head. Helen grinned.

“Oh! A smart one. But no, I’m not a fae and you are, regrettably, protected by our Archivist.” She sighed dramatically.

Jon ran a hand through his hair. “She’s right.” Helen lit up. Really. She glowed.

Tabitha, ever curious, tilted her head. “I’m Tabitha. Are you with the smexy weed?”

“The smexy weed?” Helen asked, unapologetically amused, “whatever do you mean?”

Cal let out a short laugh and Katie rolled her eyes.

“The one that makes you high.” Elliot intoned (un)helpfully.

Martin groaned. “Wh-you know what. I’m just going to leave it.”

Helen was grinning now. “Yes! I’m with the Spiral, or the smexy weed, if you prefer!”

“Dope.” Elliot said, and Rosie raised an eyebrow.

“Wait a second,” Martin spoke, putting his hands up and turning to Jon, “why were you being so cryptid about it anyway? It doesn’t seem very complicated so I don’t know why you were being so coy about-”

“Because I’m ashamed, Martin.” Jon cut him off, sighing and clenching his jaw.

“Ashamed?!”

“Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just-destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that-I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a…fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I…enjoyed it, and…the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on!”

A pall of silence fell over them.

“Mr. Sims?” Cypress spoke.

Jon sighed. “Yes?”

“You said the fuck word.” Cypress informed him solemnly. The rest of the class nodded.

“That’s what you take from that?!” Jon said exasperatedly.

“Well, I mean, about what you said, I actually think you’re good on that front.” Cypress said hesitantly.

“What?”

“Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!” Cal exclaimed. They’d been silent nearly the entire time, naturally a shy person and even quieter when scared. Rosie raised an eyebrow, and Tabitha cheered, slinging an arm over their shoulders.

“Yes Cal! You go!” Tabitha high fived them.

“I agree with that.” Martin spoke, surprising Jon.

“How-what?” Jon said incredulously.

“Yes Martin!” Helen cheered, delighted by this new development.

“Th-this isn’t like it was before! We’re not talking about innocent bystanders in cafes here, John; these things are-th-they’re just evil, plain and simple, and right now they’re torturing and tormenting everyone!  If you want to stop them and have the power to, then-then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!”

“I-I haven’t seen it.” Jon breathed in surprised.

“Oh, Martin, I am so proud of you. Can I come too?” Helen asked ecstatically.

“No.” All of class 108 intoned.

Helen pouted. “So mean! I take it back, you’re no fun at all.”

“Coming from you, I would think that a good thing.” Rosie pointed out as Sydney nodded her agreement.

Helen sighed dramatically. “Fair, fair. I think I’ll take my leave, now. Don’t be a stranger!”

The creaking of the impossible, yellow door signals her exit, and Tabitha’s eyes widen.

“Guys!” she exclaims, face bright with a new, disastrous idea. Katie groans preemptively. “We should do a Tiktok with her!”

-

Regrettably, Tabitha’s idea was immediately shut down, and they soon continued on their path until Jon came to a stop, gritting his teeth.

“We’re here.”

He’d explained that they’d have to cross through multiple nightmares in order to reach the Panopticon, along with the statements he’d have to give. Though Sydney had wondered, she hadn’t asked if he knew the whereabouts of any of her classmates.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

No, that was a lie. Above anything else, Tabitha needed knowledge like water. She felt incomplete without it, whatever the cost of that knowledge would be. She would rather mourn a death then be ignorant and happy.

“Are you going to…?” Martin prompted, and Jon nodded, sighing.

“You should all leave while I-”

“No.” Rosie and Tabitha intoned at once, looking at each other surprised.

“Why not?” Martin questioned, wondering why anyone would want to have to listen to that.

“I…,” Rosie breathed, “you said this was about the Buried, right?”

“Y-yes.” Jon stammered, taken aback.

She sighed, tightening her side ponytail as a distraction. She often found playing with her hair gave her comfort.

“I-I can’t explain it. It’s not like I’ll sleep any easier without,” she gestured, “this.” She finished lamely.

Jon and Martin had a silent conversation, and though Jon was apprehensive, he sighed and gestured for her to sit down. He then turned to Tabitha, raising his eyebrow.

“What about you?”

“I need to know.” She said. “I-I can’t be in the dark in a world like this. I just-I need to know.”

Martin nodded, still doubtful. He gestured for the rest of the class, who were staring at the two girls like they were insane, to follow him over to (what appeared to be) a tree.

-

“-Better to keep him buried, neatly away.” Jon finished, and Rosie breathed out shakily. Jon looked at her, really looked, and was confused to find that she looked almost sated.

He turned to Tabitha, and she seemed the same, though in a far more familiar way. He couldn’t quite place it, but something was…off.

“Are you both okay?” They nodded at his question, and Rosie helped Tabitha up.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I just…” Tabitha hesitated, “I feel…weird.”

“Weird?” He intoned, raising an eyebrow in concern. “Not scared?”

“No-I mean, yeah, I’m scared, but…” she shook her head. “Never mind, it’s not important. Hey, why is Katie stabbing a tree?”

-

As it turned out, the tree wasn’t as inanimate as they’d thought, and after being chased around for a bit, Martin got separated from the rest of the class. Not too far; he could still see them in the distance, and they appeared to have killed(?) the tree.

Where did Katie get an axe?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, when a phone rang out of nowhere. He jumped, surprised.

It was coming from the ground.

He scowled, running his hand through his hair in annoyance, before a clanking noise got his attention from the right. A metal spade just seemed to…appear. Out of nowhere.

“A spade? Really? I mean, isn’t that a little insensitive?” He questioned irritably, sighing to himself.

“Right, so we’re doing this then.”

He began to dig until he reached the phone, yanking it up. He wasn’t surprised to find that there was no landline attaching it to the other caller.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Hello. Is that Martin?”

He cursed inwardly.

“Don’t do that.” He warned.

“Not in the mood for games?” Her voice was decidedly amused.

“You know I’m not.” He told her.

“No fun.”

“Yes, well-look, I’m talking to Annabelle Cane, right?” He said, already knowing the answer to that question.

“You never gave me yours, why should I give you mine?” Martin wondered if she was being this difficult on purpose. Knowing the Web, she probably was.

“Just-what do you want?” He asked tiredly, sighing.

“To help, of course!”

“No. Thank you.” He declined sharply.

“Oh, I think you’ll want to hear this. Marcy Schroeder isn’t dead.”

“W-what?!” He exclaimed.

He didn’t know much about the girl, hadn’t even known her last name before he’d heard Annabelle say it, but he knew enough about what had happened when one of class 108’s first expeditions had wandered into the Web.

“That’s what I said! She’s been kept alive for a reason, though I don’t know what. I suspect it has something to do with the end.”

“Where is she?”

“Now, now, that’s information you’ll have to pay for.”

“With what?”

“Good question. I’ll need to let the situation play out a bit first, and then I’ll know what you can pay me. I’ll keep in touch!”

The line went dead.

“Well, shit.”

-

Rosie was quiet, Tabitha noticed, as she played with her hair languidly, posture tired and face blank with a subtle confusion and scowl. She walked over casually, trying to surprising her from behind, then frowned when Rosie didn’t react.

Tabitha tilted her head, then sat on the log beside her.

“You okay?” She asked, concern blindingly evident in her voice. Rosie didn’t respond.

They sat in a comfortable silence, looking out at the green tinted world in front of them. The watchful eye of the Panopticon looked back, and Tabitha gave it a challenging glare.

“Did I ever tell you about the sinkhole?” Rosie broke the quiet, not even glancing beside her.

“No, I don’t think you did.” Tabitha replied, and was silently disgusted with her own burning hunger for the information Rosie must have been referencing.

Rosie finally turned to Tabitha, chocolatey eyes dull. “When I was in middle school-it must have been fifth or sixth grade-I was caught in a sinkhole. I was buried for two days, under the earth. The Doctor’s didn’t know how I survived, but I did.”

Tabitha’s eyes were wide as Rosie continued her tale.

“The earth…moved. And not in the normal ways. It was unnatural. It tried to choke me, but I didn’t fight back. I just, let it. And I wasn’t afraid. I was,” she spoke sourly, “comforted, by the pressure. It felt like a hug, except, an important one. The earth was hugging me, Tabitha.”

Rosie’s gaze sharpened, and Tabitha’s hunger seemed to increase.

“And I let it. My parents are-were,” she grits, remembering the loss and silently wondering which nightmare they were trapped in, “amazing to me. But they weren’t tactile people by any stretch. And the earth…it was everywhere. And I think I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. A ‘medical marvel,’ that’s what the doctors said at least.

“I’ve never told anyone before, but you of all people I feel like I can tell things. You just,” she gestured absently, “have that feel about you.”

“Are you vibe checking me?” Tabitha joked, trying to ease the tension. Rosie smiled gratefully.

“I suppose I am.” Rosie responded, before growing solemn again. “I think…well, you can figure that out.” She looked to Tabitha, willing her to fill in the blanks.

“You think it was the Buried.” Tabitha reasoned, thinking to herself.

Rosie didn’t need to say anything; they both knew that what happened wasn’t possible by any other explanation.

“…we need to come up with a name for it.” Tabitha spoke to herself, and Rosie raised an eyebrow.

“I may not have been scared of being buried alive, but hearing those words terrifies me.” Rosie deadpanned.

“Aw, Ro, I’m flattered. You say the nicest things.” Tabitha cooed, and they both laughed quietly.

-

“…I have an idea.”

“Oh no.”

“The Great Bondage, the Choking Kink-”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough.”

“Hey! Don’t leave me here! What about the buddy system-”

-