#like it sounds like a fever dream but I swear it was real I hate read it a million times in high school

[daincrediblegg]

Devastating: can’t find an old as all balls fic from 15 years ago.

[aliaology]

WORK SONG

summary: jacks mind runs constantly, and you’re the reason

small a/n: per usual, readers looks wont be described, so reader can look however you want ♡ , does get slightly sensual! not tagging ppl for this one bc i forgot my taglist and im sleepy

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

not doing my tags bc im too lazy for this rn

boys workin’ on empty, is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? i just think about my baby. im so full of love i could barely eat

being in love was a full time job, and jack had no complaints. he loved being in love because it meant waking up next to you. it meant he was able to touch you, to feel you, to be with you. oh— how he loved it. he didn’t care if he was at practice, just thinking about you, because you were his motivator. he didn’t need drinks or food or sleep to play, just you.

you brought him the strength he craved, you were his number one fan. the one who supported him through thick and thin even when he was wrong. the one who held their hand out, so he could grab it and begin to climb. you were such an angel.

there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. i’d never want once from the cherry tree. ‘cause my baby’s sweet as can be. she’d give me toothaches just from kissin’ me.

your kisses were sweet. the way you’d pepper them against his skin, over and over and over again, made him fall deeply. you were his muse and your sound was so pretty. the way your mouth would drop open, noises escaping it. oh how you were so beautiful.

your lips tasted like cherries, a favorite fruit that he began liking the second his tongue met with the flavor of you. the flavor would linger, no matter what lips he kissed.

the feeling of your fingers on his face, or his lips, anywhere on his body, was like heaven. giving into you like a drug— he was addicted. he loved your touch, no matter if it was gentle, or the scratches you’d leave on his back. he yearned for more.

and i was burning up a fever. i didn’t care much how long i lived. i swear i thought i dreamed her. she never asked me once about the wrong i did.

jack hated being sick just because of the feeling. the feeling of a stuffy nose, a headache, the cough. all of it. but you somehow made it good. the way you would take care of him, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he had a fever. or when you’d make soup from scratch, your grandmas recipe that you keep a secret.

you were too good to be true. you were the embodiment of perfect in jacks eyes. everything about you. from how you spoke and how your tone was always gentle — to how you felt inside and out. every time you grip jacks hand hard— he swears he’s dreaming. you can’t be real. you were ethereal.

my babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. if the lord dont forgive me, i’d still have my baby and my babe would have me.

jack didn’t like you worrying. he hated it, hated how you would get so scared that he would leave to go back to an ex. how you thought you were nothing compared to them— but you were so much more. you were his everything. the one who kept him going. you were his sun, he revolved around you. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“baby— what if they ever want you back? they’re so pretty.”

“oh baby, they could never compare to you.”

he didn’t care what he’d have to do, but he’d do it all for you to stay happy. in his eyes, you hung the universe. you were his universe.

when i was kissing on my baby, and she put her love down soft and sweet. in the low lamp light i was free. heaven and hell were words to me.

being able to press slow kisses to your neck and shoulders were his favorite things to do. or watching your soft body rock gently with his as your sweet love lit him up. you made jack forget everything in the world no matter where you were. you made jack forget everything else just by talking to him.

skin on skin, heavy breathing, sloppy kisses, it was all sweet. it was all you, you and your love. no time with him was for the hell of it. all of it was love, pure and desirable.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. no grave can hold my body down, ill crawl home to her.

love. jack loved being in love. he hated the saying ‘til death do us part’ and it wasn’t because he didn’t believe it. he hated it because it would never apply to him. he wanted a saying that would be one he could hold onto forever, just like your hand. he wouldn’t part ways with you once death decided to take over.

no— he’d hold you the entire time. he’d be with you no matter where you were. he’d wait until you two met again— and then he’d take you to another universe because in every one of them, you were soulmates.

jack would not let a grave, or death, part you two. he would hold onto you whether it be with one hand, or with his heart.

[damthosefandoms]

There's death at my door and I swear that it's following me

(ao3 link)

Summary:

“I’m going to finish it,” he says out loud to anyone who might be listening in his empty house. “I swear. I have to for school, anyway. I’m not handing in an unfinished paper.”

There is no response but the sound of Ponyboy’s own breathing.

“It’s not easy to write, Johnny!” he yells. “This is the part where I get you killed, you know!”

Nothing.

Figures he’d be quiet dead, too.

---

Neither of the greasers who died that cold, September night in 1967 had a funeral—Dally had nobody to set one up, except his friends who couldn’t afford it, and they never found out where the cops took him after they killed him anyway. But a month or so after everything ends, they find out Johnny’s mother had him cremated and that she and his father kept his ashes.

Ponyboy is particularly pissed off. Something about Johnny being trapped in that house his whole life, and even now, after death, being kept in a place he hated more than anything else…

“It ain’t right. I…we loved him more than they could ever dream of.”

As the remnants of the gang sit around the Curtises’ kitchen table, defeated, Two-Bit half-heartedly jokes they should steal his ashes. Darry rolls his eyes. Sodapop says that’s horrible. A heartbroken Ponyboy says, “Dally would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

A week later Darry and Soda wake up to Pony making eggs for breakfast, with a new centerpiece on the table.

“Tell me that is not what I think it is,” Darry mutters, gesturing to the cheap urn.

Pony’s face goes red. “So, uh… this kid Mark at school taught me how to pick locks, and…”

“Ponyboy Michael Curtis!”

“C’mon, Darry, I had to! It was eating me alive. They don’t deserve him! I’ll bet they won’t even notice he’s gone!”

His brothers look at him like he’s finally lost it. Maybe he has, because Mark’s advice had gotten him nowhere, and Pony swears the Cades’ door unlocked on its own last night.

“All Johnny wanted was to get out of Tulsa. The happiest he ever was, was watchin’ the sunset back there on Jay Mountain. I needed to go get him so we could take him there.”

“Ponyboy…”

“I had to. I just had to. If not for Johnny, then for Dally, okay? ‘Cause god knows we couldn’t do anythin’ else for him.”

He’s got a lot of reasons to believe this is what Johnny wanted.

That weekend, the whole gang drives up to the remains of the church, so they all can say goodbye. Ponyboy pours Johnny’s ashes out over the cliffside where they watched the sunset, and if a little bit of dust gets on his hands, well. He stares for a minute before he goes to wash it off at the old water pump.

“You gotta go, Johnny,” he mumbles. “Don’t stick around me. Don’t do that to yourself. Move on.”

He’s always had a weird relationship with death. 

---

Ever since Ponyboy was little, he’d been told he had a strong imagination. His brothers call him a dreamer. His dad used to laugh and say he had his head in the clouds; his Mom said he was just the creative type. He learned pretty fast that no one else saw the things he could see, and he learned even faster not to talk about it. He thinks his brothers never believed him, but they also never forgot.

It’s one of those things where Ponyboy doesn’t see things unless he needs to. He got real good at tuning out the supernatural at a very young age, and it’s not something that comes up in his life very often anyway; death may follow him wherever he goes, it may show up at his door but he does not let it in. He doesn’t know why he’s like this. It’s like there is just something special about him, something he figures he won’t understand until he is much, much older. Or maybe he never will, and he’s just crazy.

The first time death comes to visit, Ponyboy is not feeling well. It’s been a month, it’s almost Halloween, and it is the first time since Johnny and Dally died that he’s sick again. Pony’s got just a low-grade fever, but Darry lets him stay home because that’s for the best. He promises to work on his English assignment.

Darry and Soda head out to work with promises to check up on him during their lunch breaks. He picks up his notebook and flips through it, but he is at the part where he runs into the church to save those kids and he can’t bring himself to pick up the pencil and admit that it was his cigarette. His fault.

His pencil rolls over the edge of the desk. It clatters to the floor and Ponyboy reaches down to get it. When he sits up, Johnny’s ghost is staring at him, pointing at the blank page. 

He blinks and he is alone again, but he can still feel the presence and knows deep down he isn’t. He sits back and groans. He can’t be normal for ten minutes?

“I’m going to finish it,” he says out loud to anyone who might be listening in his empty house. “I swear. I have to for school, anyway. I’m not handing in an unfinished paper.”

There is no response but the sound of Ponyboy’s own breathing. 

“It’s not easy to write, Johnny!” he yells. “This is the part where I get you killed, you know!”

Nothing. 

Figures he’d be quiet dead, too.

But writer’s block grabs him by the throat and doesn’t let go, so Ponyboy picks up his pencil again and begins to doodle on that blank page a picture of his current situation.

He falls asleep at his desk, and when his brothers come home, they find him there, snoring over a picture of himself at his desk, writing in his notebook while Johnny Cade stands watching over his shoulder like some kind of guardian angel.

---

Time passes and school starts up again, and around a year or so after the Windrixville nightmare, Ponyboy announces to his brothers that he’s going to some school dance with a couple of friends. He’s really non-committal about the whole thing, but Soda thinks it’s a good idea, and maybe Pony doesn’t really like the group of guys he’s going with but he knows he has to get out of his comfort zone and this is one way to do that. He promises to be back before curfew, so it’s not like he’ll have time to get into any trouble.

Apparently, his first mistake was one he’d made literal months ago, back in the spring—saying no to going out with Angela Shepard.

He knows it was shitty of him, the way he'd barely even acknowledged her presence after she waltzed up to him that day, but he also he knows it was never about him. It was her, expecting Pony to have her back whether or not he actually was interested in her, because that's just what Curtises and Shepards do.

But the day she approached him was—would've been—Johnny's seventeenth birthday. So, you know. There are a lot of reasons he'd turned her down. 

And now here they are, in October of 1968, at this stupid school dance. Mark’s brother Bryon brought a date and Bryon never liked Ponyboy anyway, so he and Mark walked off together to let those two hang out, and then Mark wanted to go out to Terry’s car because he brought alcohol or something—Pony was not interested in drinking the slightest, but he followed anyway—and then his second mistake must’ve been simply being at the dance or something, he doesn’t actually know. He doesn’t think he spoke to Angela the whole time.

(Later Ponyboy finds out she was trying to piss off Bryon, who he later finds out is her ex. She was mad he'd brought a date, or something like that. He still doesn't really get the whole thing, and probably never will. If you ask him, Angela should've known better than to have taken it all personally when she'd known exactly what she was doing.)

They’re sitting on the hood of Mark’s friend Terry’s car and some guy walks up that Ponyboy has never seen before. 

And the guy just swings at him! Of course he swung back!

Pony knows that he does not have a tough reputation, but he is one hell of a fighter—he may have gotten his ass kicked in the rumble but he also helped kick ass, and he’s been working out a bit with Darry so he can keep up with the track team, and he was briefly considered an accessory to murder, so clearly he can handle himself. Just ignore the fact he'd been drowning in the fountain for that whole thing. He figures Mark didn’t get the memo, because when the guy smashes a beer bottle to swing at Ponyboy’s head, his idiot friend decides to pick that moment to tell the other guy to relax.

Next thing Pony knows Mark’s on the ground bleeding and the school-sanctioned cop appointed to keep kids from killing each other at the dance grabs him to haul him away. Some job he’s doing.

He goes to get Mark’s brother, and he explains that the guy meant to hit him and not Mark, and Bryon says something about Angela Shepard but he doesn’t really explain. Pony decides he doesn't care. Mark groans and his eyes open, but it’s like he can’t see anything and Pony winces, because he knows all too well what is happening.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Shock,” Ponyboy says, and he takes Dally’s old leather jacket off and throws it over the guy until the ambulance arrives and the EMTs take over. He’s careful not to let any blood get on it, though. It’s already been through enough.

Ponyboy thinks maybe he has, too.

The brothers get into the ambulance and Cathy Carlson, the girl that Bryon took to the dance, walks up to him and asks what happened, so he tells her. She mentions that Bryon borrowed a friend’s car to drive them there—Two-Bit drove Ponyboy to the dance and then ditched him for the first girl he saw at the party, and must be long gone by now—and she points it out to him in the parking lot. She heads off to see if she can get a ride to the hospital from someone. 

Ponyboy wants to thank Mark for stopping the fight, if he can. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is; Pony’s got no clue why Dally used to be so insistent he stay away from the kid. He also kind of figured Bryon would need a way home too, so…

He hotwires the car. He hopes he didn’t break anything in the process, and he makes sure to have Cathy drive, because she has a license and Darry won’t let anyone but himself teach Pony—and he won’t do it until Pony’s sixteen. Probably for the best considering Soda and Steve have a million speeding tickets each and Two-Bit is chronically under the influence.

When they leave, Ponyboy and Bryon have to help Mark walk out because he can’t on his own just yet. Pony’s in the middle of saying he gets it, “I had this killer concussion last year after some soc kicked me in the head during the big rumble, and I remember bein’ out of my mind loopy after, laughin’ at how I couldn’t run… straight…”

He trails off.

He realizes he recognizes this hallway. The door across from him is slightly open and it is the room Johnny died in.

Mark half-falls ‘cause Bryon kept walking and Pony didn’t, and it takes Cathy asking if he is okay to snap him out of it. He says yes but his chest is starting to feel tight and his eyes burn.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head and mumbles a “sorry,” which just gets him an odd look, but no one really asks after that. They get Mark in the car and the only thing he says for the entire ride home are the directions to his house.

Except they don’t get all the way to his house, because they are driving down the street Dallas Winston died on and the pain in Pony’s chest gets worse and he looks out the window toward the street lamp and yells “STOP!” because he sees someone standing there and is convinced they are about to hit them.

Everyone stares at Ponyboy like he is insane but he does not care because Dally is crumpling to the ground just like he did that night, calling out Pony’s name and dropping dead. Then he is standing up, and the bullets are hitting him, and it repeats and repeats like some horrible loop. Pony feels like all his hair is standing on end. He can’t breathe.

Don’t think about how you heard Dally and Johnny’s last words, how they called for you, but you’ll never know Mom and Dad’s. If they screamed for help. If they held each other as they died. If they watched the train coming and knew they couldn't run.

“Uh, I forgot to tell y’all a turn, I… I’ll get out here. Thanks for the ride.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he gets out of the car and shuts the door. Cathy’s got the window down and she asks if he’s okay and Pony is normally a good liar but he isn’t tonight.

“I’ll be fine. See you later.”

They drive off and Ponyboy sits down on the curb and stares at his hands. He’s never hanging out with any of them ever again.

He thinks about his dreams, the horrible ones that wake him up screaming and shaking, the ones he can’t ever remember, and he wonders why he had to be the one cursed with this stupid ability. To know something horrible is going to happen before it does. To see what happened to his friends after death. Why he has to be the one to know Dallas Winston will never move on. He has this feeling in his gut and he knows he needs to walk down this road to get home but he cannot bring himself to go anywhere near that street lamp. He already has Johnny’s spirit attached to him. He can’t deal with the idea of Dally being there too. He is too angry, and even from this distance, it’s starting to affect Pony, too.

He takes the long way home, because maybe he has a jacket tonight but he figures that if he’s going to get jumped tonight for walking home alone, what’s the worst that could happen after last time? He’s already lost two friends. He lost his parents. Who even cares anymore?

When Ponyboy gets back to his house it is well after curfew and he can see the light on inside and it is like deja vu. He has a black eye and his lip is cut, he knows it’s swelling up because he never put ice on it, and his chest feels tight and he knows he’s shed a few tears and he just. He can’t even bring himself to care as he walks inside.

“You’re late again,” Darry says. Soda is nowhere to be seen. 

“Yeah, whatever, Darrel,” Pony mutters.

“Where were you? I told you to be home by midnight. What happened to your face?”

“Some guy swung at me. Don’t worry about it.”

“You really think I won’t, Pony? We’ve talked about this.”

That is a lie. They didn’t talk. They just promised Soda not to fight anymore.

But Pony is tired and Dally and his heart hurts and he feels like he is going to explode, so he does.

“I was at the hospital, Darry, is that what you want? My friend got hurt trying to help me out because some guy I ain’t never seen in my life decided to swing at me at the dance even though I didn’t even do anything and I went to the hospital to check on Mark. And you know what? I had it all under control and then I hadda walk past that stupid room Johnny died in and now I know my brain is broken ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about it and about Dally and— and I don’t want to talk about it!” Ponyboy can’t even finish. He just storms past his brother and down the hall to his room.

He opens the door, grabs Sodapop out of the bed and shoves him out, and then slams the door shut behind him. The doorknob clicks locked and they hear a noise that sounds an awful lot like a heartbroken sob.

Soda looks at Darry.

“I told you waiting up for him would just piss him off.”

“Shut up.”

[kittydragondraws]

well that happened, tadc reaction

stuffs under cut

yipee ads :D sick beats yoo new intro yipee silly pommi silly symbols is it just me or did things get… golder nauseating i think this is a dream, soo sobble oh my god this hurts to watch i don't like thit "i don't wanna play with you anymore" toy story vibes oof collission errors at their finest best girl raggy is it just me or did she get deeper?? man it's so much better watching yt on a laptop then phone "judging by what he's been teasing" FOURTH WALL BREAK canadaland BUBBLE!! local intorvert what's with the block? LARPing :,D he's so me frfr of he's smoking GUNNY ELEPPHANT MY FAVORITE THIIIING shiny manrqquiens kinda nice ngl awww kinger :D it's giving mario movie tbh "GOD" I'M CRYING AHAHAHAHHA ooooh amazing digital yuri she just like me frfr loloo kinda sweet i looove jax ha :D pomni is me jax is so slayful wacky sound effects i'ts only been thrity seconds but i love her already this si adorable WAIT SAD BACKSTORY GUMMIGOO jax has those n genes jesus christ bunny boy i swear i've seen that joke before babootka little arms georg gummigoo is precious jax is actually horrible kuh-nife jax is a masochist lesbian gangle real OH GOD NO RAGGY girly got inverted hot chokky, or diarreah i love colission errors NOO GUMMY COME BACK POOR GUMMY SAAAAVVVEEE HIIIIIIM that's not terrifying at all it's giving n learning he's a clone vibes exstestential horror yippee :D POMMY SAVE THE DINESAW you're in out of bounds dumass POOOR GUUUY NOOOO NAW WAAAAAAA D: data in a computer WAIT THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH THAT REFERENCE wow i hate this, i haaaaaate this jesus fuck my man she wouldn't last a day on copper 9 the keys come back i legit throught that was a nuke oreo wheels he's busy being emo i love his voice NO GUMMIGOO YOU'LL LIVE ON ON TURMBLR oh shit pomni therapy it's giving cabin fever oh i'm sad now YEES POMNI LET HIM COME WITH YOU CAINE WON'T MIND HAHAHAHAHAHHAAH (hyperfixating) his legs are so frucking weird bruh like yourself you worked at C&A i love him yipeeeeee colission glitches are best glitches fudge is nauseating nd i hate him md fans before a new ep: kinger why is your head in a bucket RAGATHA NO IT'S FINE SHE'S JUST IN THE ETHER kinger admin headcanon HE JUST DIED THEY MURDERED A GUY is there like a one vomit per episode requirement or sumting AWWW HE'S BEEEEST YEESSSSS GUMMIGOO GO SAVE YOUR MOMMA are they dancing? are those cahsews on the front? EVERYONE IS DEAD oh… my… god CAINE I HATE YOU CAINE CAINE CAINE I HATE YOU were her teeth clipping? ptsd flashbacks lol RAGATHA FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING GOOD PLEASE BE RIGHT oddly wholesome awww don't make me sad NO DIALOGUE? GOOSE YOU COWARD! awwwww wait noooooo this iiiissss sweeeeet I WANNA GUMMIGOOOO PLUSHIE jax looking pretty neat ngl

[bisonaari]

So I've mentionned wanting to do a list of weird music recs a while ago, and the idea hasn't left me so here it is!

If you enjoy weird music, come with me in the read more ohohoho I've got beautiful things to show ya

First I'd like to mention that my specialty is asian pop, especially japanese pop (I've been hosting a panel about weird jmusic at my local con for more than 10 years). So there's gonna be a lot of that stuff here hahaha

Golden Bomber

They're my absolute favourites they're incredible. First of all… THEY'RE NOT A REAL BAND. ONLY THE SINGER SINGS, THE OTHER MEMBERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO PLAY. Their music videos are always a delight because nothing makes sense

Other songs from them:

dance my generation

Yokubou no uta

Odoru na yo -do not dance-

Norazo

Norazo is this weird korean duo that I've been following for the last 15 years. Their videos are always the result of like if you could film someone's fever dream and it's DELIGHTFUL

Some other songs from them:

Your fortune

Wild Horse

Cider

P'tit Belliveau

I need to show off my country a little bit! P'tit Belliveau is an artist from Canada, singing in chiac. What is chiac? It's actually a variant form of canadian french, spoken in the east of the country. It's honestly pretty cool sounding, and sadly not valued enough. Anyway, his videos are very 80's/90's graphics inspired (with a lot of weird ass CGI lately hahaha) and he just seems really friendly I love him

Some other songs:

J'feel comme un alien

Cool When Yer Old

Téo Lavabo

I love this guy SO MUCH HAHAHA. So Téo Lavabo is from France. He's proudly lgbt and that's a recurring theme in his songs. His style can be described as… yodel/electro/pop??? I SWEAR I'M NOT MAKING THIS UP LOOK FOR YOURSELF

Other songs:

Vernini Vernana

Caresse ma salopette

TATI TATTOO

Little Big

Of course a lot of people here will know them, as they were selected for eurovision 2020 (I have been following them since like 2014 and I was HEARTBROKEN when esc 2020 was cancelled I wanted them to win so bad haha). They've started as a band that made music a lot heavier (still weird though), but they've mellowed down in the latest years. After the war, Ilya and Sonya moved to the USA.

Other songs:

Faradanza

Skibidi

MOUSTACHE (feat. Netta !!)

DJ OZMA

I have to speak about him because he's the person who started me on this weird music journey all the way back in 2009 (my mom HATES him for that HAHAHA I haven't been normal since). DJ Ozma was the pop side project of rock band Kishidan's lead singer, Ayanocozey Show. It lasted only for 3 years but oh boy what incredible 3 years they were. He was mostly doing japanese covers of kpop songs, with some original ones from time to time.

Other songs:

Spiderman

drinkin' boys

I RAVE U

Momoiro Clover Z

Momoiro Clover started as a fairly standard jpop idol group back in 2008 (I've been following them since then, it has been a while lol). In the following years, one of their members decided to leave to pursue an acting career instead. They switched the group name to Momoiro Clover Z and all the videos took such a turn, it was quite the whiplash. And it was for the BEST, they're aliens in the idol world, including the fact that some members are pushing 30 now! Their style is mostly back to normal nowadays, but they've still produced gems

Other songs:

Neo Stargate

PUSH

I think that's enough for today hahaha. If you want more or if you want to share some interesting artists, please don't hesitate!! I'm always in for new weird music hahaha. After ESC 2023 someone suggested Hooja and I absolutely LOVED it, and katinkulta has sent me some KAJ it was a delight. So please send all the weird stuff my way I need it like I need water

[ateez-ana]

lost girl (FEVER PART ONE DIARY)

The memories of short happiness

And dreams broken into pieces

Can I find it again?

0.9 Ana

I dreamed about it in the dark The night I felt like I might die No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears I'm there most of the year Cause I hate it here

the poem

Ana's room, a small messy space in an old apartment. Ana, 18, with blonde hair and hazel eyes, is sitting on the bed, looking at an old, worn photograph. In the photo, she is with her parents, both smiling. Her eyes fill with tears as she holds her tightly. "I miss them so much. Why did they have to leave? I was just a girl…" Ana gets out of bed and walks to the window. She looks out at the city spread out below her, the lights twinkling like distant stars. She feels alone and lost, with no one to turn to. "I have nothing here. No family, no friends… There is only me."

Ana remembers her childhood. She was a shy and lonely child, often bullied by other children. Her parents worked long hours to support her, and she spent most of her time alone. She found solace in music, dancing and singing in her room when no one was looking.

I'm lonely but I'm good I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on purpose

again? the poem

One day, while walking through the city, Ana came across a small, old warehouse. She was attracted to that place and entered. Inside, she found a group of boys dancing. They moved with energy and passion, their bodies synchronized to perfection. Ana was mesmerized by his performance.

"They are incredible… I wish I could dance like that." Ana is attracted to the music and energy of the boys. She decides by a sudden impulse to go down and join them, Ana timidly approaches the group of boys. They stop to look at her with curiosity. "Hello? Who are you?" one of the boys ask her "I'm Ana. I saw you dancing f and I loved it." "Welcome, Ana. Don't hesitate to join us." the same boy tell her

Ana smiles and joins the group. They start dancing together, and Ana feels happier than she has been in a long time. She feels that she has finally found a place where she belongs.

Ana spends the next few weeks dancing with them they accept her as one of their own. Ana has finally found a home, a family that loves and supports her.

..........

I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind People need a key to get to The only one is mine

the same poem again and again

the abandoned warehouse where they are rehearsing a new song. Ana watches them from a corner, smiling. "I never thought I could be so happy. These guys have changed my life."

Suddenly a figure appears in front of her.

"Hello, Ana. I've been waiting to meet you." "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" ana ask him

"I am the guardian of balance. I have been watching you for a long time, and I know the power to help of fulfill its destiny." The figure spoke what to Ana sounded like nonsense, but it looked like someone she know . She couldn't see his face. Every time she tried to clear her vision, the figure seemed to get more blurry.

"Destiny? What are you talking about?" she thought she was going crazy

" is not just a group of boys. They are protectors of the balance between the human world and the world of dreams. inspire people and change the world. But they need help to unlock their true potential."

"I… I don't know who are you talking about i dont know any boys"

the figure just laughs "Do not underestimate nothing Ana. You have a pure heart and a strong spirit. but thats not enough"

"Save the balance?" fear was felt from her toes to her head

" Follow your heart and the compass will guide you to the right path."The figure vanishes into thin air, leaving Ana alone in the warehouse. "It was just a dream… But it felt so real."

Ana gets out of bed and joins the boys. They are ready to face any challenge that comes their way, together.

Quick quick Tell me something awful Like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy

the po.....

[projectdivapolls]

Round 1 results are in!

A Song of Wastelands, Forests, and Magic vs Absolunote

ACUTE vs Adolescence

AFTER BURNER vs Ageage Again

Ai Kotoba vs Akatsuki Arrival

Alien Alien vs Amatsu Kitsune

Arifureta Sekai Seifuku vs Ashes to Ashes

Betty the Liar vs Beware of the Miku Miku Germs♪

Black Gold vs Black★Rock Shooter

Blackjack vs break;down

Break It, Break It! vs Butterfly On Your Right Shoulder

Butterfly on Your Right Shoulder -39's Giving Day Edition- vs Cantarella

Cantarella ~ Grace Edition ~ vs Cat Food

Catch the Wave vs Cendrillon

Change Me vs Close and Open, Demons and the Dead

Clover♣️Club vs Colorful×Melody

Colorful×Sexy vs Continuing Dream

Dear vs Dear Cocoa Girls

Decorator vs Deep Sea City Underground

Deep Sea Girl vs Denparadigm

Disruptive Diva (Easy/Normal) vs Disruptive Diva (Hard/Extreme)

Double Lariat vs Doubleganger

Dream-Eating Monochrome Baku vs Dreaming Leaf

DYE vs Electric Angel

Electrosaturator vs Envy Cat Walk

Equation+** vs Erase or Zero

Far Away vs Finder (DSLR remix - re:edit)

Fire◎Flower vs Freely Tomorrow

Gaikotsu Gakudan to Riria vs Gemini

Ghost Rule vs Gigantic Girl

Gizmo vs Glasses

Glory 3usi9 vs God-Tier Tune

Grumpy Waltz vs Hanamai Tsukuyomi Tan

Hand in Hand vs Hello, Worker

✽Hello, Planet. vs Here Comes Karakasa-san

HIBANA vs High School Days - DIVA EDIT

Hm? Ah, Yes. vs Holy Star -2010 DIVA mix-

How'd It Get To Be Like This? vs I'll Miku-Miku You♪ (For Reals)

I'm Your Diva vs I Really Do Understand

Idol Radio (Game Edit) vs Ievan Polkka

Innocence vs Interviewer

Iroha Uta vs Iya Iya Seijin

Jaded/The Rebel vs Jugemu Sequencer

Just Be Friends vs Kagamine Hachi Hachi Flower Fight

Kagerou Daze vs Karakuri Pierrot

Kimi Ni vs Kimi no Taion

Kipple Industry Inc. vs Knife

Knight of Light vs Kokoro

Last Night, Good Night vs Let Me Lose Myself In The Black Note

LIKE THE WIND vs LOL - lots of laugh -

Look This Way, Baby vs Love-Colored Ward

Love-Hate vs Love is War

Love Note vs Lover's Suicide Oblivion

Lucid Dreaming vs Luka Luka ★ Night Fever

Magical Sound Shower vs Magnet

maigo life vs Marginal

Master of Puppets vs Meiteki Cybernetics

Melancholic vs Mellow Yellow

melody... vs Melt

Meteor vs Miracle Paint

Monochrome∞Blue Sky vs moon

Mousou Sketch vs Negaposi✽Continues

Nekomimi Archive vs Nekomimi Switch

Nice To Meet You, Mr. Earthling vs Nightmare ☆ Party Night (Easy/Normal)

Nightmare ☆ Party Night (Hard/Extreme) vs No Logic

Nostalogic vs Now Choose

Nyanyanyanyanyanyanya! vs ODDS&ENDS

Oha-Yo-Del!! vs on the rocks

One-Sided Love Samba (Easy/Normal) vs One-Sided Love Samba (Hard/Extreme)

Out of Eden vs Packaged

Palette vs Pane dhiria

Paradichlorobenzene vs Paris Cinema Girl

Perico Space Shipper vs Piano×Forte×Scandal

PIANO✽GIRL vs Pinky Swear

Po Pi Po vs Promise

Puzzle vs Quartet of Multiple Futures -Quartet Theme-

Rain With A Chance of Sweet*Drops vs Remote Controller

Requiem for the Phantasma vs Rin-chan Now!

RinRin Signal -Append Mix- vs ROKI

Rolling Girl vs Romeo and Cinderella

Rosary Pale vs Roshin Yukai

Sadistic.Music∞Factory vs Saihate

Sakura no Ame vs Saturation

Sayounara Goodbye (Easy/Normal) vs Sayounara Goodbye (Hard/Extreme)

Secret Police vs Sekiranun Graffiti

Senbonzakura vs shake it!

SING&SMILE vs Snowman

So Much Loving You★ -DIVA Edit- vs Soiyassa!!

Solitude's End vs Song of Life

Sound vs Soundless Voice

SPiCa -39's Giving Day Edition- vs Star Story

Stardust Utopia vs Starduster

StargazeR vs Starlite★Lydian

Stay With Me vs Step Forward

Strobe Nights vs Summer Idol

Sweet Devil vs Sweet Magic

SYMPHONIC DIVE - DIVA FT edit - vs Systematic Love

Tell Your World vs Tengaku

Teo vs Terekakushi Shishunki

That One Second in Slow Motion vs The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku

The First Sound vs The Intense Voice of Hatsune Miku

The MMORPG Addict's Anthem vs The secret garden

The Snow White Princess is... vs The Star Maker

The Two of Us - Futaride vs The World is Mine

This is the Happiness and Peace of Mind Committee vs Though My Song Has No Form

Thousand Year Solo (DIVA Edit) vs Time Limit

Time Machine vs To The End of Infinity

Tokyo Teddy Bear vs Torinokocity/Urbandonment

Transparent Watercolors vs Travel to The Other Side of The Moon

Tricolore Airline vs Two Breaths Walking

Two-Sided Lovers vs Unhappy Refrain

Updating My Love List? vs Velvet Arabesque

VOC@LOID in Love vs VOiCE -DIVA MIX-

Weekender Girl vs What Do You Mean!?

When The First Love Ends vs White Dove

Wintry Winds vs Wolf Girl

World's End Dance Hall -F Edition- vs World's End Dance Hall -Live Dance Edition-

World's End Umbrella vs Yellow

Yumeyume vs ZIGG-ZAGG (Normal)

ZIGG-ZAGG (Hard/Extreme) vs 1/6 -out of the gravity-

1925 vs 2D Dream Fever

39 vs 39 Music!

Dance of Many vs from Y to Y

All songs highlighted in blue will move on to round two! They will stay in this same order when competing 🩵

12 lucky losers

Ashes to Ashes

Change Me

Fire◎Flower

I Really Do Understand

Kagamine Hachi Hachi Flower Fight

melody...

Romeo and Cinderella

Starduster

Step Forward

Though My Song Has No Form

Unhappy Refrain

2D Dream Fever

These 12 lucky losers will compete in a mini round before round two, in the randomized order they're listed in below the cut! The six winners will move on to round two, and will stay at the end of the round rather than back in their alphabetical placement so they don't risk losing to the same songs they lost to already 🩵

Lucky losers randomized polls:

melody... vs Fire◎Flower

Change Me vs Kagamine Hachi Hachi Flower Fight

Starduster vs 2D Dream Fever

Though My Song Has No Form vs Unhappy Refrain

Ashes to Ashes vs Romeo and Cinderella

I Really Do Understand vs Step Forward

Have fun and happy voting! I look forward to seeing which six lucky losers get to move on, I hope you all do, too 🩵

[monomorphilogical]

Pearl handled Colt .45

God knows I would've let it go beside of me

getting nauseated in the land of the forgotten and free

and I always cry when I leave 'cause the sight is just too much

wet-teethed and undressed with nothing you can touch —

and it splits through the sound of my sneakers hitting concrete

echoes my promise to meet you at the end of the street

never knowing when to ride or die so I let you take me for a drive

and we'll go around the bend of that familiar I-65

there's an angel waiting for me there and I know he hates me

no matter what I'll do it makes everybody fucking angry

I'm sorry for saying I'd do my best for you — I swear I tried

watching the lowlight bleeding into all of my cop out

like a rubber to blacktop mirage in a real good summer drought

always saying the only time I'll open up is when I'm firing

and you want me to put on a show and show you that I'm trying

forever praying this is the end when I know it’s not

I'm getting lost in a vacant parking lot

talking about jacking the car like bonnie and clyde

find some backroad drive and let it take us through the night

but the black and white never gives up a good fight

and heaven knows we'd never make it to the border up ahead

through a highway car chase they'll shoot us both through the head

you keep your hands off the wheel and say to get in the backseat

all of my tailgate shoot-out dies in the moment of heat

— keep it steady until we're consumed by the sound

with my back against the driver's seat for another round

but there's no silver lining on my pearl handled .45 and I'm sorry

all my empty bodied promises always go off before me

and I could be better — it wouldn't matter

can't help the way I'm already soaking red through the leather

they've got me good like I already knew they would

while you're making me out to be a fever dream misunderstood

only slowing to a stop when my body's all torn up with gunfire

but when I die it'll be because I'm burning up by all your live-wire

I knew I'd never live past the time of my life in your hit and run

we've lasted a while — we'll never outlast the shotgun

consequences of an outgunning fate better off dead

even at my best I'll always show through every shade of red

calling it a game — you're all the fucking same

can't keep me warm so long all your colors blue run the vein

we're already closing in the line I’ve walked once before

on some leeway byway where you heard me begging for more

giving up all my backseat guts and glory — red and blue

until the morning breaks with knuckles to the stained rearview

there's nothing left to forgive me over my dead body

we all dig our own graves in the places where we feel most free

God knows I've smoked the tailgate grave there before

so I'll light one up in the name of another closed screen door

go on and tell me I did it to myself in hindsight

dreamt about you pressing me face-down against the headlight

haven't been on this side of the road conversations in a while

where I keep missing the tin can target by a goddamn mile

and when you asked me when and where I want it

I made you wait while I took out my handholding and shot it

'cause I'd always hold the gun if you asked me to

but if you know me like you say you do would you still ask me to?

when you're still gunning for a bonnie and clyde highway drive

but you won't take me out of that pearl handled colt .45

told me you're a good shot and that you give it all you got

God — I wish you'd never dreamt about the end of a parking lot

saying you get off on willingness as long as I give it to you

and I loved it until you took a turn so different to how I view you

no stranger to the turn away and I've always told you that

but you want me to put on a show — now you ruined all of that

the way you pictured me faceless through a broken up dirt street

you told it like it didn't matter who you'll drag into the backseat

I don't want anyone holding me when they don't want me

and you don't get why I never let anyone put their hands on me

I've only been good for the bend and break of my body

and I keep soaking through with all my color red — I'm sorry

laying in the middle of the street and letting the moment pass me by

I won't hold the .45 — I'm not going for your joy ride or die

[ike-mcswains-mortician]

okok so my dnd campaign so far:

(i spent two hours learning colour theory augh and I should mention that all this is by our great DM!)

So it started out with all of the pc which are Moses, Stoni, Bread Brad, Caster and my character Caryln! They all work at the bakery and Moses is the boss.

They all got hired by KJ, a secret agent (?) of an organisation, and I swear this is the actual acronym, called C.O.C.K. (i hate it so much man)

There is a villain named Ipheginia (i can’t spell her name) who is trying to become god and the party has to find magical ingredients to make a magical cake to defeat a god-complex villain!

Also nobody knows that Caryln is a cannibal and she has to cut out Stoni’s mum’s heart after she dies but she did it a bit to well so now everyone is like hmmm and Caryln talks to the wall often to her brother’s ghost but he isn’t real.

Recently we got kidnapped by a king who was going to give us the magical flour but instead threw us into a to-the-death arena battle. We survived by him taking us out and putting us on a conveyor belt into a bowl of soup (???) and now we’re holding him by knife point.

(Our campaign is wild man but its very fun to play!)

this sounds like an absolute fever dream /pos the magical baking competition sounds really interesting actually and i am so incredibly curious to see where it goes! also i am very intrigued by bread brad. 10/10 name right there

also i think every dnd campaign is cursed with having a dick joke as a central point, one of the main cities my campaign started in sounded so much like erect that it just became the name and every time the dm would say the city’s name we would all look at each other like “heh nice” and he would seriously consider a tpk

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙐𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎. ҂ 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢

back by popular demand! xx thank you for supporting my ramblings! this is kind of filler.. sorry...

pairing: dream x fm!reader

warnings: blood, slight angst, using ccs real names, guns

← previous chapter | ao3 | request |

Clay pushed himself to sit away from the wall, dragging you up with him. “How can you not hear that?” He urged mildly. Fear began to pick at your nerves as you noticed the same reactions filling the shelter. Nick stood up, following some of the other guys who heard whatever they were talking about. Clay slipped from your grasp. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered and you grabbed his hand. His eyes flashed a different color as he looked at you.

A few of the women followed the group, attempting to get their companion’s attention before one of them opened the shelter door.

Your eyes grew wide as the crowd moved from the shelter. It seemed that only the women in the bunker were protesting against leaving the shelter, the men focused on shrugging out of their hold. The night sky was lit up by a foreign object you had yet to lay eyes on, Clay’s figure blocking most of your vision as you were sandwiched between him and Nick. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, your grip tightening around Clay’s arm. 

The crowd spread out in the field near the bunker, gaze cast towards the northern sky where a large planet hovered on the horizon line. You covered your mouth in shock, slinking backward as a few of the women screamed. The bright spots on its surface reflected in the eyes of the men across the field from you. You yanked on Clay’s arm, attempting to pull him back into the safety of the bunker with you. 

He turned, an amazed smile flashing to his face as he looked down at you. It was only then that you noticed the crimson lines of blood draining from his ears. “Can you hear that?” He asked, voice raspy and verklempt. You furrowed your brows, your chest rising and falling unevenly as your mind raced to figure out what was happening. Clay’s soft hair moved in the night breeze, his features looking sharper as the light from the planet cast shadows across his face. 

His face dropped suddenly, his brows knitting together as his breathing seemed to slow. You reached out to touch his face but instead, his eyes rolled and he collapsed into your arms. Nick dropped to his knees beside you as well, forcing you to reach an arm out so he didn’t face plant in the dirt under your feet. You swore under your breath as Clay’s weight forced you into a sitting position. As you held him to your chest, keeping a tight grip on Nick’s t-shirt, you hiccuped, hot tears beginning to stream down your face. 

You sat, waiting for them to wake up, for what felt like hours. Various women were wailing, while others smoked stale cigarettes and paced, theorizing what the planet could be doing. You drug your fingers through Clay’s hair, your other hand cramping from its hold on Nick’s shirt. You’d pulled him closer to settle his head on your leg beside Clay. You felt like a mother hen guarding her chicks against the winter. 

You hated it. 

One woman stood with her hands on her lower back, staring up at the planet. Every few minutes, she held her palm out to it, spreading her fingers out wide before biting her cheek and continuing to stare. You inhaled and attempted to soothe yourself by holding the boys closer to you. “They’ll wake up,” she said, her voice breaking into a quietness you hadn’t realized had settled over the field. You looked up at her, rubbing your cheek on your sleeve to rid yourself of salty tear tracks. “The big one, he still has eye movement.” You looked down at Clay, noticing her fact. He looked as if he were dreaming up the plot of a new Lord of the Rings book. 

You sighed in relief, pressing your cheek against his forehead as your hand loosened on Nick, fingers brushing his collarbone softly. It was then that you realized how warm he was. Your brain switched into panic mode as you touched his forehead, his skin burning beneath your hand. You pulled his hat off his head and set about pulling his hoodie off. 

The woman joined you at your side. “He has a fever. We have to-” you bit your lip as more tears threatened to spill. You were so tired of crying, but for some reason, you couldn’t help it. Especially now, as the lives of the man you loved and a dear friend were literally in your hands. “We have to get it down,” you managed, fingers yanking at the material. “He could die.” 

The woman settled a hand on your shoulder, slowing your movements. She removed Nick’s hoodie, balling it up and pushing it beneath his head. “He’s going to be okay. Obviously, his body’s fighting something off,” she assured. “You should move around a bit. So your legs don’t go completely numb.” 

You shook your head, looking back toward the two. “No, I can’t leave them,” you answered softly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her nod in understanding. “What were you doing over there?” You asked, nodding to where she was previously standing. 

She moved to sit cross-legged, turning her head to look back up at the planet. “I was seeing if it was moving,” she responded. “I swear I’ve seen it before. Like in a book or something.” You nodded at her words slightly. “I think it’s Callisto, one of Jupiter’s moons.” 

You dragged your sleeve across Clay’s cheek, wiping away the dried blood. “Callisto…” you repeated, attempting to jog your memory if you’d heard of it before. “So NASA was wrong, huh?” You joked, attempting to be light-hearted, but your voice reflected a dark sadness from the depths of your chest instead. 

She shrugged with a small grin on her face. “Unless it wiped us out completely as this is your hell for eternity.” You snapped your eyes to her, making her laugh. “I’m joking. Unless this is my hell,” she joshed. “It depends on what you believe is real or not, I guess.” 

You shut your eyes, a shaky breath rippling through you. “Please stop talking.” 

Before she could say something else, Clay’s eyes snapped open. He muttered your name almost as if he didn’t believe it was you. He turned his head towards where Nick was laying. “Nick?” His voice cracked slightly as he sat up. He looked at you as if asking what was happening before he turned to peer up at the planet again, his eyes shifting to a more brilliant green as if it evoked something within him. You watched his irises shift towards a glowing color before he looked at you again. 

Nick stirred in your arms before shivering. You rested your hand against his forehead once again, the heat of his body becoming more alarming. Clay was on his feet, looking quickly around the field as various people woke up, startled just as he was. You gently moved from beneath Nick, letting his head rest on his jacket as you moved to comfort Clay. He pulled you into his arms and you could hear his heart beat against his rib cage. Everything was beginning to happen so quickly as you stood on your toes to peer over Clay’s shoulder, watching as various men began to act strangely. 

You heard Nick mumble Clay’s name, causing you to break away from him to look behind you. As you did so, Nick grabbed your arm gently, his hand searing the flesh of your forearm. You let out a muted scream, yanking your hand from his as his worried eyes burned a bright orange.

THREE YEARS LATER

You tied your hair back, staring back at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It was the Callisto Anniversary, therefore you couldn’t help but think of what you used to look like; practically a child compared to who you were now. You almost glared at the scars on your arms from those nights when you all thought the world was ending. You wet your lips, tugging on your jacket and propping open the door of your bedroom before carrying yourself down the long hallway. Various people greeted you from their rooms as you passed by their opened doors. 

As you trudged down the various flights of stairs, you silently repeated the words of the cultists' propaganda posters covering the walls in the stairwell. You passed them every day; hating them more each time you saw them. You’d only let them hang the posters after they threatened to burn down the hotel, thus eliminating yours and several hundreds of other people’s homes and businesses. 

After the planet, which you now knew for sure was the moon Callisto, settled into the Earth’s night sky, reports of enlightened men popped up everywhere. The male population seemed to be a favorite of Callisto’s as most of them possessed some kind of power, whether useless or beneficial. Conspiracy theorists believed it was because of the creatures in the water beneath its surface attempting to create a new generation of Poseidon's sons. With the moon ruining Earth’s power supply, it was difficult to experiment and prove various theories. 

It’s the radiation, some would say. 

It’s a government conspiracy. 

It’s an alien experiment. 

You’d heard it all. The only thing you were certain of was what Eden told you, the woman you’d met when Callisto appeared. She was convinced of the Poseidon theory; though rather scornfully. “One more thing to strengthen male privilege...” She often accounted. She’d worked as a biology professor before the day of reckoning, therefore she could tell you the chicken came before the egg and you’d believe her. She explained the phenomenon of Callisto as a result of the ocean tides and gravitational pull, yet couldn’t figure out how Callisto could travel 4.3 AUs and why Earth would be its landing place. 

Your feet thumped against the cracked linoleum of the hotel lobby, the various dividers failing to provide sound barriers between the various groups of engineers and their counterparts as they worked and chattered. After finding the hotel, you’d given most of its space to Eden and her team as well as the brutes working for you. 

You grabbed an apple from one of the food stations before following the sound of Eden’s voice as she argued with someone about the patterns of Callisto in the sky. A radio lulled from the table in the middle of her chaos. She tugged her dull blonde/gray hair back into a ponytail before massaging her aging temples with two fingers. 

The front doors opened, ringing the small bell attached to one of the handles and drawing your attention. The group of men shrugged out of their wet jackets or shook out the rain out of their hair. You scanned the group from Clay’s white ski mask, an intimidating feature that signified who he was. Just as you had given up, he pushed through the crowd, pushing his mask on top of his head. You waved at him and he brightened before walking towards you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, the smell of the Earth hanging against his damp clothing. 

“I saw something while I was out, and I’ve had a rough time keeping it in my head,” he stated with a slight chuckle, mindlessly asking you to follow him to one of the tables with a few workers. You watched him silently as he fished into the barrels of spare gun parts before throwing what he’d found on the table. The people around you paused what they were doing. Clay’s eyes began to glow, the green almost iridescent as the pieces began to morph together before shaping a new kind of gun. 

That’s really what your group was known for: arms manufacturing and dealing. 

Clay built them and you had the connections to sell them. On paper, it was simple. 

Clay held the gun in his hand, turning it over and looking down at you for praise. You furrowed your blows slightly. “Does it work?” You asked, making him shrug and bump a clip into it before firing it at one of the walls. 

You sighed. “How many times do we have to talk about shooting inside?” He giggled sheepishly at your words. You examined the gun in his large hand, trying to place where you had seen it before. It was a souped-up version of whatever you had previously seen. 

“Looks like a cop gun to me, Dream,” a familiar voice stated, making Clay chuckle proudly before looking up to see Nick with his arms crossed. Clay quickly tucked it into the back of his belt and Nick rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I meant to radio in on my way but I got caught in the storm.” 

You swatted off his apology and hugged him. “It’s good to see you, Sapnap,” Clay lightened. The boys had begun using their radio call names as if they got them from their mothers. “Happy Callisto Day,” Clay charmed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Nick picked up a gun piece. 

Nick’s eyes flashed to the burn scar on your wrist from him. The fever he had was due to his power. Clay always teases him with nicknames like Prince Zuko and Warren Peace for it. “Have you guys seen Karl? I have a friend that figured out how to make something similar to nail polish.” 

You snorted. “He should be hovering around Eden,” you answered, gesturing to the opposite corner of the lobby space. 

After Nick parted, Clay turned back to you. “I think I found a way to get supplies into the East Sector…” he mumbled, just audible enough for you to hear. You perked an eyebrow at him. The East Sector had been closed off to any kind of weaponry, but that didn’t mean the demand wasn’t high. It was a farming community outside of the city where most of the religious zealots lived and based the Cult of Callisto. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “How dangerous is this  way  you’ve found?” 

Clay smirked slightly. “They call him Techno. He’s a chlorokinetic. Apparently, he kills people and turns them into plant food too,” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows. “Plus, he’s an enemy of Quackity’s group.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the table behind him. 

“So, pretty dangerous, then?” You simplified. 

He smiled slightly. “In a fun way…” 

[glitteryglitter]

hii i have a request for a finnick story. so i was thinking maybe if it was during the quarter quell and the reader is a victor for district 1 or something and her and finnick hate each other but secretly care about each other. the reader ends up leaving her alliance with the careers to join finnicks group forming an alliance at some point in the games. THANKS!!

𝙰𝙽: It's been a while since I read Mockingjay, so I'm sorry if some details are off. Thank you so much for requesting!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Mentions of violence

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Finnick X District 1! Fem! Reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1286

                                                       ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

The quarter quell had been an absolute nightmare for everyone. even the careers

As they all milled around a clearing in the forest, they all had the exact same worries.

They were all terrified, for themselves, and each other.

Y/n had almost gotten stabbed, and Gloss hadn't been doing too well either.

Even Brutus looked visibly stressed.

Meanwhile, Enobaria had been glancing around the small clearing shiftily. The careers had decided to stay in a part of the arena that didn't look as dangerous, yet the tension was almost unbearable.

The entire experience had been even worse than Y/n's first hunger games, mainly because people very close to her were very likely to be killed,

Also the absolutely insufferably cocky district four boy was in the arena with her.

He'd even had the nerve to recited a love poem he'd written to someone in his interview.

Y/n couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting to spend more than five minutes with him and his overall demeanor.

She truly couldn't stand him, or his deep blue eyes. Why anyone would ever want to date him, she didn't know.

Why he thought he had a chance with someone, she didn't know either. But, she wasn't one to judge, and the topic of him dating someone merely made her feel angry, so she decided to shove all thoughts of Finnick and his love life out of her already racing mind.

What y/n did know for certain, was that she'd do everything in her power to make sure that those in her alliance stayed alive.

At that moment, monkey mutts, hundreds of them appeared and began running towards the group.

Y/n tried to focus, but there were so many of them, and she certainly didn't want any of them to catch up with her.

She couldn't place where they were coming from, but she didn't really need to at the moment.

What she needed, was to keep her allies safe.

The careers scattered.

Their previous attempts at sticking together were not working out as well as they had hoped.

Gloss dashed towards the ocean, meanwhile, Brutus ran through some bushes.

Enobaria had already disappeared, no doubt trying to get away from the horrible little mutts as well.

It was at that moment that Y/n realized something: She was all alone.

She really needed a plan.

However, with the monkey's shrieking playing in her head, practically driving her insane, it was hard to think straight.

She ran in the direction she thought Gloss had gone, but only succeeded in getting lost.

Finally, she found an area that was thankfully, small-primate-free.

Y/n was left with the terrifying feeling of being alone, and very very vulnerable.

She'd dropped her spear and there was no way that the others were unarmed.

She knew some hand-to-hand combat, but not enough to save herself if someone else had a knife.

Or worse, a bow and arrow.

                                              ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

At that moment. she heard voices.

Internally swearing, she crouched behind some vines as Finnick, Mags, Johanna, Katniss, and Peeta came into view.

They looked like they were arguing about something, Y/n only hoped that they would leave as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

They all sat down and appeared to be setting up a place to stay.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

She had no way of escaping and Finnick, that idiot was with them.

She just couldn't believe how his hair still looked that good!

Wait, what?

She didn't know where that thought had come from, but she didn't particularly care, as long as she never needed to think about it again. ever.

If only there was a way for her to escape...

At that moment, a tree branch cracked and fell to the ground, startling her.

Y/n promptly tipped over and fell into plain view.

Everyone looked up and froze.

"Who is that?" Peeta asked.

Finnick, that idiot, walked over.

"Look who it is" Finnick pulled her up onto her feet with a hard expression on his face.

Y/n cringed slightly.

You two know each other?" Peeta asked, sounding more confused by the minute.

"Of course, they do. Finnick couldn't take his eyes off of her at the interviews. All through the training, I couldn't tell if they wanted to murder or kiss each other, but it was definitely one of the two. Don't act like you didn't see it." Katniss whispered.

That warranted a glare from the two.

"Listen, I don't think you like me very much, but I need to join your alliance."

Y/n was desperate at this point and this seemed to be her best bet if she didn't want to get murdered.

She really didn't want to rely on anyone, especially not Finnick, but she didn't have any other choice at the moment.

He nodded. "We'll make it work."

Finnick sighed, He didn't want to ever talk with the district 1 girl ever again.

He hated to admit it, but Katniss was right.

Y/n seemed to despise him, despite his best attempts at flirting.

He'd even written her a poem and recited it for the entire capitol to hear.

She certainly was special, and it would be better if he didn't have to kill her.

                                              ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Several hours passed and the group, plus y/n, decided to move on.

They'd been walking for a while when she recognized the area they were in.

There weren't any monkey mutts this time.

Y/n was just beginning to relax when she heard something.

The sound of wings, along with Finnick shrieking.

"Y/n stop screaming You're not helping anyone!" Finnick yelled.

"Me? You're the one screaming! Could you maybe stop it? Just let me think!"

"Just shut up! You two weren't screaming up until now and it's not helping anything." Johanna was standing off to the side, completely calm as the entire group dissolved into chaos.

She did have a point.

Y/n remembered something.

She'd been told that Jabberjays echoed the screams of the person one cared about the most.

Why on earth were they echoing Finnick?

She realized then and there, it was all so obvious.

Maybe she did want to kiss him.

Had she been jealous all this time?

Why hadn't she noticed this earlier?

How on earth would she deal with this?

She was in the Quarter Quell of all things, definitely not the most romantic place to confess your love to someone.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, she knew that the screams weren't real.

It was a bad time to tell Finnick her feelings, but it was better now than never.

"Finnick, I need to tell you something"

Y/n was practically shaking, but she still persisted.

How do I say this...I hated you- I thought I hated you... She paused to take a deep breath.

Finnick hoped this was going the way he thought it was. Did she like him? She couldn't possibly. After all, she'd basically admitted to wanting to murder him. But had she? She'd never said it specifically.

"I like you. I didn't want to admit it, but I like you. A lot. I understand if you don't feel the same, but- she paused again no doubt, thinking she'd said something very wrong.

"Can we kiss?" Finnick asked.

This must be a dream. A fever dream, but still, a very, very good one.

Y/n thought as she melted into the kiss.

"Oh my god. What is it with you two? I can't believe I decided to ally with this group", Johanna hollered over the Jabberjays.

"Because we're better than the careers, of course! Sorry, y/n not you." Finnick yelled back.

She shook her head.

Y/n could still see a hint of a smile on her lips.

                                               ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

[cheelduh]

How to get your crush to walk you to the nurse’s office (Highschool AU)

This is part 3, but it can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of a monster schlong, and unedited.

Parts: 1 2

Synopsis: Childe offers Lisa a shady deal to yet again sit next to you. However, all his efforts are in vain after he makes a complete fool out of himself by tripping over literally nothing because of a stupid cold. Maybe getting a cold isn’t so bad if he gets to be escorted to the nurse’s office by none other than yourself.

Note: Pure unedited crack luvs. Can’t wait for Childe rerun tmr I hope I get the ginger and the emo nun! 🥲💖

The eyes on you are suffocating, to say the least, enough for you to consider peeling a layer of your own skin off just to breathe. Every now and then, you get a teasing glance from a classmate, and you're sure you'll be an entire puddle of guts on your desk before home room even gets a chance to begin.

There's no doubt it's Signora that spread the news of your date yesterday as a means to some sick revenge. Knowing this was going to happen, you packed some salt in your backpack to cancel out all her evil. Now all you need is a chance to knuckle ball it in her face.

Fingers crossed, you pray to the archons that Childe didn't slip anything about your...brick slip yesterday. It's a good thing you weren't in a school uniform yesterday because that would've been the end of your high school life right there.

Thinking back to it, you collapse into your open hands. How could you have beaten a bunch up losers up...risking your flawless reputation for a sadistic ginger with an affinity for chaos? And worst of all, why did you care about them shit talking him in the first place?

"You okay dear? Something you want to tell me?" Lisa feigns concern, already knowing why.

With a sigh, you blink an eye open through the gap in your fingers. "Doing just fine."

"Oh it couldn't have been that bad." Her eyes shine in mischief. "I bet Childe was a real gentleman."

"He sure was." Kaeya pipes up from the back, leaning in to show you the image on his phone. It's a picture Childe took of you absolutely oblitering an ice cream cone.

You groan and slump deeper into your chair from embarrassment as Kaeya and Lisa engage in chatter, mostly revolving around your date.

Ignoring them completely, you start to ponder about Childe. Where is he? You were sure he'd be here bright and early to reminisce on your eventful date yesterday, which mostly consisted of a competition of who could win the most stall games at a local festival.

Maybe he'd even tease you about the Monoceros Caeli keychain attached to your phone. The very one he'd won for you, and the reason that started the competition in the first place.

Your cheeks warm when you fidget with said keychain, and you can't tell if the fast pace of your heart is because you're nervous to see him or because of the biology quiz you have second period.

So wrapped up in all these foreign emotions, you fail to notice the shadow that looms over you, a glittery finger guard tapping at your desk.

The student council President, Ningguang, plops down a stack of budget files on your desk during homeroom. She's gives you a light smile, and you know what's coming when you meet her alluring gaze.

"Be a dear Y/N," Ningguang smiles, tight lipped, all pretty with her hair pinned back to crown her face. "Even with all hands on deck, i'm afraid the student council's efforts will not come to ripeness concerning all of this paperwork."

This isn't the first time you've done her a favour by becoming the president's personal accountant, and it definitely isn't going to be the last.

Ningguang is powerful, with wit like no other, and you want to be able to call in a chit when the time comes.

"Of course," You reply with a smile that rivals her own. "I'll have them done by the end of the day."

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Y/N." She departs elegantly, probably opting to sit next to Beidou and bicker.

You're halfway on the third sheet for total income, a minute before class starts, when you're interrupted. Childe stumbles through the door quite noisily, a shitstain of a grin plastered on his face that is directed at you.

You sigh and shake your head as he approaches you. Thankfully the seat next to you is occupied by—

Shit! Where's Lisa?

Across the classroom, Lisa gives you a thumbs up with a bar of vending machine chocolate in her hand. You should've known she'd betray you yet again.

Childe slides in smoothly after bumping fists with Kaeya, and he falls short of containing his giddy nature.

"Hi Y/N." There's something weird about him today, because you're sure you haven't seen his cheeks so flushed ever. His eyes land on your phone, which is splayed on the desk, and the keychain widens his grin.

You snatch your phone and hide it in the middles of your thighs, but the damage is already done. The urge to shrink against the wall has never been as strong as it is in this moment.

"Hi." It's a miracle you haven't combusted on the spot. Is it usually this awkward? Everything went so fine yesterday, so why can't you ease into it today?

He takes that as a go ahead and instantly reaches for your hand on the table, but you retract at the speed of light.

"Don't even think about it." You're ready to connect the tip of your trainers to his bleached asshole, nose crinkled at his behaviour.

Kaeya whistles lowly, leaning forward for the HD show that is your life.

Childe's smile is sheepish as he's scratching the back of his head. "So we're not on that stage yet huh? I seriously thought you had a change of heart after you beat up those high schoolers for m—"

You muffle his statement with a hand on his mouth, and send a pointed glare to Kaeya. "You didn't hear shit."

The Captain of the skating team nods innocently, and salutes. "Yes boss."

Returning your gaze to Childe, who looks like he's having the time of his life with your small hand on his mouth, you narrow your eyes. "Stop trying to spread rumours."

He can only hum in reply, but you feel a weird pressure on your palm and—

The smug asshole kisses your palm.

You pull back your hand and wipe at your pants, full of disbelief. "Did you just??? Did you just? Kiss my hand???" Mouth twisted, you have no idea what to think.

Childe's throws his head back, and his laugh rings in your ears. You hate yourself for wavering slightly at the sound before smacking his arm. His laughs turn into coughs, probably because he may have swallowed his saliva down the wrong pipe. Charming.

Where the fuck is Zhongli? It's already been five minutes too long into homeroom.

Rolling your eyes, you opt to continue and scribble down budget numbers and add sums up or whatever you were doing earlier after Childe pipes down, choosing to admire you quietly by leaning his weight on one arm. It's enough to make you squirm, face flushed.

"Can you not?" Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you don't look up as you speak.

"If you give me a kiss, then maybe." Childe's cheeky, ridiculously so, and he points a finger at his cheek.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." You deadpan, fingers itching to choke something or rather...someone.

Childe pouts, and then his eyes close for a second, almost as if he's exhausted when he gives you a sort of smile. With how he's leaning in so close, you can easily spot the swelling in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

For the first time today, there's no bite in your tone when you ask with a slightly raised brow. "Are you okay Childe?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to answer ecstatically, snapping out of his tired haze by straightening himself up. "Better more than ever now that I've seen you, girlie."

You blush madly, the compliment enough for you to drop your pen on the ground. It rolls over beyond your reach.

"I'll get that." Childe jumps out of his chair and you're unable to stop him as he goes to go fetch your pen like the chivalrous idiot he is. There's a slight pause in his movement, his body taking longer to process the messages his brain is sending.

He recovers from the muddle in his cognition by shaking his head, and casually goes to pick up the pen, then ends the move by falling over backwards in unconsciousness.

"Childe!" You lunge for him, managing to catch him a second prior to his ass hitting the floor with the help of Kaeya, who somehow looks like he's expected this outcome from the very start.

The entire classroom clamps up and turns to look for the root of all the commotion.

"Don't just sit there and watch!" You hiss angrily, waving them off. "Someone get Zhongli!"

Aether doesn't need to be told twice as Venti and him race down the hall together. Venti probably just to use this opportunity of sudden chaos to skip homeroom.

"Looks like a fever." The Captain accesses the situation as a small crowd forms around you two. "There's no way he didn't feel it in the morning."

"The absolute idiot." You groan at his words. "Of course he'd try to have a pissing match with a cold."

"I'm still here you know." Childe slurs, leaning into you for warmth, chest rising and falling softly. "Just a...a little sleepy. Am I dreaming angel?"

You roll your eyes, but don't make any moves to lean away from his touch. "Anyone got a water bottle?" Curling your hands around his shoulder, you shift your gaze towards the crowd.

Somebody passes you an emerald green water bottle with dandelion charms that clink against the hard plastic handle from a nearby desk. It screams stupid, but you don't have time to judge the owner.

Opening it up hastily, you're about to let Childe take a sip until it's snatched away from you at the speed of light.

"Hey what gives!" You call out to Kaeya, who inspects the bottle closely with his one eye. He then nods in affirmation as if his suspicions are confirmed.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Is all he says when he motions for you to take a whiff, which you do so reluctantly, eyes closed.

The scent hits you all it once. It's watered down vodka, except without the watering down. Tears form from the intensity.

"The goddamn bard." You choke out, and it earns you a drained chuckle from the ginger that has his head situated on your forearm.

He has half the mind to nuzzle in further, but the position is convenient enough for you to crush his skull if you wish to do so. So he refrains, albeit reluctantly.

Zhongli manages to make it in less than two minutes, sipping on a cup of steaming tea as he breaks apart the crowd to crouch down. "Is everything alright? I came as soon as I could after I made this tea. I assumed it was just another prank."

Everyone in the room shakes their head incredulously.

"Unfortunately it isn't a prank. Childe fainted briefly." You tell him politely despite the urgency, since you're whipped for all your teachers.

"I didn't faint!" Childe groans, exasperated. "Got a little dizzy s'all."

"Yeah," Kaeya cuts in to summarize the situation. "I'll be happy to take him to the nurses office with Y/N—"

Zhongli clears his throat. "You won't be going anywhere Mr.Alberich. I'm sure you have five overdue assignments in my class. Y/N here can walk him just fine." He then attempts to wink at Childe secretly like the wingman he is, but everyone in the classroom and their grandma notices.

The facepalm you do is not enough to render you brain dead.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh for the nth time today, and it's only eight thirty in the morning. "No worries, Lisa can help—"

"Sorry cutie. I'm manifesting for the biology quiz." Lisa deflects, lighting three candles on her desk unceremoniously with her eyes closed.

You don't understand why no one has confiscated her box of matches yet. This entire school is a law suit waiting to happen.

You succumb to the team effort everyone is trying so hard to display. "I guess I can go." The hall pass is already written, signed, and neatly folded into the chest pocket of your uniform. "How did you even..."

You don't even get a chance to finish before both you and Childe are whisked away to the outside of the classroom, the door shutting behind you with a slam. Your ears perk up at the sound of a lock clicking in place.

"Looks like you're stuck with me." The smug bastard still has the audacity to beam even when he's pale in the face. "Might have to hold my arm. If I fall and crack my skull—that wouldn't look too good on your record." He makes grabby hands, like a toddler.

The smile you give is unnerving, and with the speed of a snail, you manage to loop in your arm with Childe's. "Another word and let's move on to how your hospital record is going to have more than just a cracked skull."

"If you'd nurse me back to health, it'll all be worth it." The quip he sends without a beat lacks its usual goof, but it does manage to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

—

Childe's busy thumbing at his phone while you pace at the foot of the bed, arms crossed with a frown etched on your features. You hope you don't look too worried, don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Can we just get this over with?" He wails uncharacteristically from his spot on the white sheeted bed after ruling out everything he wanted to do on his phone. His hair is tousled more than usual, as a by-product of his constant restlessness.

"Shut up." You answer monotonously, arms crossed as you lean against the wall. "Let her finish her tiktok."

Barbara—the daughter of the school nurse, has her phone on the window, lip syncing and dancing to some music on beat as she films a tiktok with the utmost of important.

It's concerning that her father isn't here to tend to your needs, but apparently he's in the middle of a meeting with principle Varka. Said meeting had been going on for the past few months, but this school is devoid of logic anyways so nobody really questions anything.

"I'm literally dying here."

"Archons you're such a baby," Shaking your head, you approach his bed with a newfound annoyance. "Barbara has to create a tiktok at least once every twenty four hours or her fan club goes feral and..."

"Tries to jump off the roof as the ultimate sacrifice to her majesty." Childe sighs, and for the first time you sense his irritation. "Got it."

Just in time, Barbara finishes her cute little dance and comes over to where Childe is laying.

Childe doesn't miss the way your scowl has dissipated, and you give Barbara your undivided attention, hearts in your eyes from all the adoration. He has half the mind to call you out on it, no doubt a little jealous over how the young highschool idol can get you to show more emotion than him.

"I'm so sorry! I started those tiktoks out of mild interest but now I have an obligation to my fans." The younger apologizes profusely, getting to work almost immediately.

"No worries." Childe starts, staying still as the blonde examines him. "I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Y/N here is being dramatic, she probably just wants to spend some alone time with me."

You inhale sharply, turn to Barbara, and ask. "If I jumped out of the window right now from this floor, would it be a quick and easy death?"

The younger girl's eyes widen, and Childe stifles his snort.

"Kidding." You raise your hands up to cease her worries, and then motion towards him. "Common cold?"

"Yes," Barbara moves on and writes down something on a slip. "We'll just keep him here until his parents can pick him up."

"My parents can't pick me up." He asserts in a casual tone. "Don't call them."

"We still have to call them. If they don't come, you're to stay in this bed all day." She hands you the note, which is a viable excuse for all the classes he'll miss today. "Give this to his homeroom teacher. You'd also better get to class, your hall pass is about to expire."

"Hold up." You remark, barely paying attention to the note that you've shoved down your pocket. "I'm not leaving him here alone." There's no room for argument, your decision is firmly stated.

Childe hypes you up in his weakened state, disoriented. "You tell em girlie."

"He won't be alone." Barbara flashes you a reassuring smile. "I'll be monitoring him until his parents get here."

"No, no, you don't understand." You argue, inquiring all the doubts you have. "He's gonna try to pull some shit and I'll have to be here to stop him."

"Ease up babe." Childe tries to calm you down, despite the giddiness in his chest at the realization that you want to take care of him.

His subconscious begs him to let you stay, to let himself be doted and cared for the way he's always wanted you to, but he knows he can't let you skip class. Not when you've worked so hard and come so far. "I'll be okay for a few. You can go back to class and then visit me during break."

You bite your lips, head jumbled with all the different possibilities of how shit can hit the fan. "I can't! What if Signora shows up? She'll poison you in this weakened state to get back at me for trying to exorcise her." The hesitation in your features gives away everything.

Childe's eye twitches at the thought of Signora out of all people getting the best out of him, and also the absolute audacity you have to be calling him weak. Clearly all his efforts towards the little shows of dominance (e.g. Shoving Pallad against a locker, spraying a hefty amount of cologne on, being an asshole in general, etc.) have not bore fruit.

"You tried to exorcise her?" Barbara gasps, momentarily reminding the two of you that she's still present.

"Her evil has no bounds." Your expression is hard to read, dead serious. "I do not regret my attempt at cancelling Satan's hell spawn."

Childe himself has been cancelled hundreds of times over the span of highschool because of all his problematic traits (e.g calling Venti a twink) and it is not a pleasant experience.

Though it does give him a sense of comfort, knowing that arrogant bitch Signora is finally getting what's coming to her, even if she is one of his friends.

Serves her right for trying to Pavlov her stupid Chihuahua into biting the closest human being just by the snap of her manicured finger. As if it's persistent yapping and tendency to run in front of cars isn't enough torture to deal with on a daily basis.

Childe's yanked out of his thoughts rather forcefully at the sound of the door opening abruptly, the handle crashing into the wall, shocking Barbara's attempts to reassure you.

He knows who it is because of his top tier gaydar, dreading what's to come.

Scaramouche is a morose son of a bitch with a mean streak that hasn't been broken since he was an itty bitty shit in the fourth grade.

"I can't believe you let yourself get sick!" The navy haired boy exclaims in disbelief, doubling over with tears, clapping his hands to add on some extra effects. "Natural selection finally decided to stop pussy footing around your primate-looking ass."

You press your lips together. "Isn't he supposed to be your best friend?"

Scaramouche sputters violently, using the wall as leverage to hold himself up. "You told her I'm your best friend? Oh fuck. Oh this is good. What else did you tell her huh? That you have a monster cock?"

"First of all, you make me reconsider my opinion on the death penalty, dickhead."

Barbara is mortified. Childe continues on anyways.

"—and I do have a monster cock. But why are you so interested in my monster cock huh?"

Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust, amusement nothing but a distant memory. "You don't have a monster cock you plebe."

Childe has an awfully scandalized expression on his face, but smoothly enough it transitions into an unsettling grin that you're all too familiar with. "You didn't deny not being interested in my monster cock though."

It's your turn to be mortified, shaking your head at the banter that goes on back and forth.

"How did you even know he was in here? We aren't even in the same class."

Scaramouche raises a brow as if you're some sort of toddler that's babbling out a mixture of Cheerios and spit, maybe a few digested strawberries here and there. He waves his phone in front of you, "posted it on his story."

"What the—give me that!" You snatch his phone right up, staring at the screen in bewilderment.

There's a video of you doing trick shots with your tech deck on the ledge of a nearby window with a pressed expression while waiting for Barbara to finish up, captioned with: "In the nurses office rn pray for me 🙏, there's this cute girl in front of me should I ask her out?"

You check the poll and ninety five percent say yes. Scaramouche voted no. You have mixed feelings.

Shaking your head, you give Childe, who's unable to sit still, a look of pure exasperation.

Scaramouche claws his phone back from you rather harshly, the bells on his hat jingling, making it hard for you to take him seriously when he sneers your way.

"You should be thankful you're the lover of my comrade." He shivers slightly at the word comrade. "or I would have obliterated you on the spot for that little stunt."

Childe doesn't even pretend to look fazed at the older's threat when he says  "as if I'd allow a kumquat headass like you to touch my girl."

You and Barbara hastily jump in to stop the bloodbath that is seconds from happening. "No!"

Luckily, no limbs are teared apart.

[yunkiwii]

breakfast in bed

pairing: bf!wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

wc: ~1.2k

requested: by @tinkerbellwoo ♡

a/n: so so so sorry sweetie for taking this long!!! i had another version of this but i hated it so much that i decided not to post anything until i liked what i was writing. but it is here now and i hope you enjoy it! ♡

summary: y/n is sick and whiny, not wanting to leave bed, but her sweet boyfriend wooyoung is ready to take care of her the best he can. (spoiler alert: she will be babied)

A sudden clarity hits your face, warming up your left cheek, and the soft voice of your boyfriend drags you out of a weird post-apocalyptic dream you were having, starring some actor from a movie you both saw on the previous night. You whine, not only because you didn't want that much sunlight on your face as soon as you wake up, but also because of the heaviness of your aching body, and so you pull up the duvet to cover up your face in hope that would protect you from at least one of the things that were bothering you.

You hear Wooyoung chuckle as you feel the mattress sink behind you, one of his hands pulling the covers off your face slowly before placing a kiss on your forehead, "How are you feeling? Your skin is burning again..."

"It hurts...", you pout at him, voice raspy and low, another consequence of your recently acquiered flu. "Can I just stay in bed all day?", you close your eyes and lean your head against his thigh as he begins to caress your hair softly.

"I'm sorry but you can't baby, you should real-"

"Why Woo? Why?", you whine dramatically as you turn to lay on your back and look at your boyfriend's smiley face hovering over you and blocking the sunlight. It was a wonderful view, one you thought should be a famous painting in a luxurious museum, so ethereal looking you almost forgot about the pain and gave him a faint smile, but just for one second.

"Please, I swear it hurts! I won't be able to walk, I swear!", and you're back at your dramatic act, whining and pouting at your boyfriend who tried, unsuccessfully, to get you out of bed. Even though you weren't in as much pain as you claimed to be, you were still feeling cumbersome, and if you felt this uncomfortable in the most comfortable place of your house you sure didn't want to know how you'd feel some place else.

Giving in to your pleas, Wooyoung leaves to get you some food, and you smile as you hear the tinkling of dishes back in the kitchen, wondering what kind of pancakes he is making. Will they be simple? Will they have strawberries? Or blueberries? The thought alone of all the options made you droole a little and your stomach grunted from hunger.

As soon as you hear his steps getting closer to the bedroom door, slowly as you assumed by the dragging sound his loose slippers made on the wooden floor, you sit straight up leaning your back against the headboard, feeling your stomach grunt once more.

But your excitment soon turns into disappointment, your wide smile falls into a pout as you see your boyfriend steadily carrying a tray that, to your dismay, does not have a plate full of pancakes and exotic fruits. In fact, you couldn't spot anything remotely sweet at all!

"Why does my pancake look like soup?", you furrow your brows and scrunch your nose while Wooyoung lets out an excruciating loud laugh at your question.

"Because soup has all the vitamins you need," he sets the tray carefully on your lap before sitting next to you under the covers, "and besides, I made it myself. Just for you." He widens his eyes at this last sentence, almost as if threatening you with his love and affection, portrayed by the green homemade soup in front of you.

"But pancakes taste better you know? And soup isn't breakfast suiting...", you exchange disgusted looks between the soup and your boyfriend who now is rolling his eyes at you as he picks up the spoon and delicatly fills it before facing you again.

"If you're acting like a baby, then I guess I will have to treat you like one." He chuckles, and a grin appears on his lips when you relunctantly give in, letting the boy feed you the so unwanted soup. You hated to - and would never - admit how much you actually liked being taken care of by your boyfriend. The same way he would never admit how much he liked to take care of you, despite hating seeing you in pain.

The way he would cook for you, leaving to the side the ingredients he knew you either disliked or were possibly allergic to, the way he caressed your hair and skin as he hummed one of your favourite songs next to your ear, the way he was simply there with you, for you, whether it was to scold you for not taking enough care of your health, whether it was to comfort you; all these things warmed your heart, making you feel at home and forgetting for splits of seconds how much your body ached and weighted.

Your lips draw a smile as the spoon is dropped into the empty bowl, stretching your arms as further into the air as possible before wrapping them around Wooyoung's torso, "You know what would be gre-"

"No (y/n)," he cuts you off mid-sentence, fully aware of what you want from him, "I won't make you pancakes and bring them to bed! You can go eat them in the kitchen," you squint your eyes at him still not convinced to leave bed, and he kisses the top of your head, lingering there for a while before pulling away and looking at you disgusted, "after you shower!"

"Hey!" you pull away from him to slap his arm, but the sudden movement and loud squeal makes you burst into a coughing fit, unabling you to defend yourself from the subtle - not so subtle - accusation.

"I love you, but you stink...", the boy gets up from the bed heading towards the door with his nose scrunched, stopping before leaving to look at your miserable state once more, "You know you had a fever right? And it won't do you any better to stay there all day, wrapped in sweaty sheets and clothes."

You knew he was right, your night was hell and the fever made you sweat your bedsheets like crazy. You did need a shower, specially considering that the annoying wave of heat and cold shivers was threatening to come back and haunt you again.

But you didn't want to let Wooyoung win this easily, not without having something in your favour and so, you made him promise to bake you your favourite pancakes afterwards and eat them with you, snuggled up on the couch as he reads a random book from your shelf for you.

It wasn't an easy task convincing him, or so he made it seem to you. He was in the kitchen when you suggested that plan, therefore you didn't catch how brightly he smiled before biting his bottom lip, thinking of a way to not give in right away, even though all he could think about was the scent of your freshly washed hair against his shoulders, his left arm wrapped around your waist as his hand draws circles on your thigh, feeling your breathing calming down as you struggle more and more to keep your eyes open, lulled by his sweet voice reading you the tales of some modern days princess who doesn't need a prince.

And you would've been that princess, if Wooyoung weren't the prince.

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 26: Vultures Circling

August 1870

Gerhardt’s Pass, Oregon

Beatrice wasn’t sure whether it had been one day or two since the doctor had come.  She’d seen the look in his eyes, heard the hushed tones with which he murmured to Lyle over in the corner, and with Lyle cursing as he left the wagon and the pallet where she lay, she’d known what she already felt deep in her bones.  

The fever and the pain that had once consumed her had faded, felt now at some peculiar remove like hearing music from another room.  It would all be over soon, and that was a relief.  The vultures might be circling, so to speak, and she’d seen so many of them in the five years since they’d arrived in America.  She felt them watching her now just at the edge of her vision, not certain whether they were real or phantoms, and not certain whether it mattered.  Exhausted as she was, she could only accept it.  This was her end.

A part of her wondered whether she had caused this by her thoughts.  The nervousness and sometimes despair over being pregnant again, worrying what she would do.  David and Arthur both had readily crossed Lyle’s temper, for all David had been just a baby yet when he died.  Having lost two already, she knew the signs.  But this time, the bleeding hadn’t stopped.  Maybe it was being four months along this time that had done it.

We go together then, you and me, she thought towards that child that would never be, now finally able to offer them nothing but love and tenderness rather than having it mingled so heavily with trepidation and fear.  Perhaps we shall see David, and your other brothers or sisters.

But peaceful as that notion was, that still left Arthur.  He’d be alone with Lyle after this.  Lyle had gone to town hours ago, awkwardly grunting something about getting supplies.  She suspected it was only that he couldn’t sit here and watch her die, and that he’d be at the saloon nursing his sorrow.  Hard-handed and angry as he sometimes was, there was a peculiar vulnerable and tender streak in him all the same.  She was only thankful Lyle had taken Arthur with him.  He’d chased Arthur off most of the time since Beatrice took to bed, growling for him to go find something useful to do.  Sparing him the experience of it, she supposed.  She thanked him for that.  

She’d managed to talk to Arthur last night, though, when he’d crept in after Lyle went to sleep.  Given him the portrait of her taken earlier that year in Wyoming, and showed him the papers she’d hidden behind it.  Papers neither of them could read, but papers that would hopefully be the key to a better future all the same.  The ones that officially made him an American boy, not just another immigrant child.  He would belong here.  He already sounded far more American than Welsh, and she was grateful for that.  She could only hope he’d have the chances she’d wanted for him, even if she wouldn’t be here to see it.      

In the end, that was all she could do for him.  It seemed so little, and she was afraid for him all the same.

Hearing the creak of someone climbing in the wagon, she couldn’t help her surprise.  Lyle had come back so soon?  No, that couldn’t be.  But she heard footsteps approaching, and she heard the scrape of glass and the hiss of a match, saw the brightening behind her closed eyes as someone lit the lantern that had gone out awhile ago.  It hadn’t mattered to her, but now that there was light again, she opened her eyes to look at who had come to call.

She didn’t know either of them by sight, fair-haired and well past her own twenty-eight years. Neighbors?  No, they were far from anyone.  Lyle had made certain of it.  Who else would simply climb up into the wagon like this?  KInd strangers, perhaps.  “Are you looking for Lyle?”  It always seemed to come down to that.  She closed her eyes again.  “He isn’t here just now, and I’m sorry for whatever he’s done, but I’m afraid we don’t have much for the taking.”  Money ran through her man’s fingers like water, fast as his quicksilver dreams of riches.

“Should we...”  The woman spoke, her voice soft. 

She was too tired for this.  “Are you missionaries, then?  I suppose the saving of a soul becomes even more important at the very end.  There’s no need of that.  I’ve made what peace I might with my God, I assure you.”  Even if she’d come so far from the girl who’d attended chapel so faithfully back in Aberdare.

The man finally spoke up, his deep voice low and gentle.  “No.  You don’t need to worry about missionaries.”  The words in Welsh, no less, and the familiar lilt of it lifted her spirits in spite of herself.  “Mam, it’s me.  It’s Arthur.”

Now that snapped her to attention, and she opened her eyes, finding she had some fury to spare yet for someone who’d tease her like this as she lay there dying.  But she saw those eyes looking at her with a sad, knowing tenderness--that familiar blue-tinted green, the eyes she saw whenever she chanced to have a mirror.  The ones she saw too every day in her boy, her Arthur.  His hair--it was dusted with grey, yes, but the same dark blond as hers.  Lyle’s brows for certain, and something of the cast of his cheekbones.

Her boy had just turned seven last month, and yet she’d swear he also sat here beside her now, a man of at least forty, perhaps fifty.  She looked at him, and something in her knew him, something deeper than blood and bone, an echo within the soul.  “So you are.”  She didn’t know how it could be so, only that it was.  She drank in the sight of him.  Such a large man, tall and broad.  He hadn’t gotten that from Lyle, perhaps instead from her own father Dylan, such a large man he’d been permanently stooped long before he died from working in the cramped mine tunnels.  Seeing the marks of age on him, the lines etched into his face, and the scars--the small nick on the bridge of his nose, another on his right cheek, and a large one on his chin only somewhat hidden by a short-cropped beard.  Child-Arthur was healing a similar cut on his nose even now, earned by tumbling off the wagon while playing out a week ago, and by the look of it she’d known it would scar, just as it had on this man.  She glanced past him to the woman.  Tawny hair, a riot of freckles, amber eyes, a large scar on her right brow.  Watching Beatrice just as carefully as she was watched.  She asked, speaking in Welsh and managing some good humor, “Well, my boy, who is this you’ve brought with you?”  But she already suspected.

If she hadn’t already believed, that shy smile, that half-lowering of his gaze, would have told her.  “This is my wife.  Sadie.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”  Her Welsh was less polished, her accent more obvious to Beatrice’s ear, but it surprised her all the same to hear it.  Had Arthur taught her?  There were a thousand other questions.

But she licked her lips, needing now to ask the important question: “Why have you come?  And...how?”  She switched back to English for it.  He was an American, her boy, and she would have him be so to her at the end.  She’d fought hard for that.  It was good he hadn’t forgotten his Welshness entirely, but some things needed to be kept close and secret.  She knew that full well. 

“How?  I don’t know for sure.  There’s some red-headed fella named Sinclair who’s gonna have some explanations for this.”  He leaned in, and reached out to take his hand in hers.  A large hand, work-roughened, so unlike the small hand she still took sometimes to hold onto him in crowds and the like.  “Why?  That’s a question that’s got more answers than I know what to do with, really.  Cause I...”  He sighed, shook his head, and the aching look in his eyes told her too much.

“I know there’s no return from this, <i>fy ngwash i</i>.  It’ll be soon enough.  I knew it last night when I gave you those papers.  Did you have the use of them?”

“Sort of.  We ended up in Canada, so uh, proving I was born in Wales actually helped us there.”

“Not America, then?”

“There was better land in Canada.”

“So you’re a farmer?”  She couldn’t help but brighten at that.  She’d wanted something like that for him.  Something peaceful, gentle, nothing like Lyle’s life.

“Horses, mostly.  Some sheep, cattle, and the like.  It’s a good place.  A pretty good life.  And the rest, well…”

“You’d best tell her, Arthur,” Sadie said, her voice full of the twanging accent she’d heard in New Austin and some parts of Texas.  “She’ll see it eventually anyhow.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.  “I reckon you will at that.  It weren’t...all what you hoped for me, Momma.  Daddy ain’t gonna live but another four years past this.  Gets hanged for horse theft in San Francisco just after Christmas.  After that, a lot happened.  And it took me a long time to get things right.”

“Then tell me how it was, son.”  She heard the tone of both inflexible command and gentle invitation in her words, and knew it for the way she spoke to him sometimes as a mother, asking to know the truth of something.  Usually when he’d done some petty mischief or theft that she knew was Lyle’s influence on him.  You must tell me, and perhaps I’ll tell you that it was wrong and why, but I won’t hate you for it.  Because I love you enough to want you to know what’s right.  She saw that conflict in him already, a boy who could steal candy from the store and shrug about it, but who’d come home the next day taking a beating to save a stray cat from being kicked to death by some older boys.

So he told her.  And perhaps it wasn’t the worst she could imagine after hearing Lyle was dead when Arthur was eleven.  But it made for no pretty picture.  Hearing he’d been taken in by criminals, and ones far better and more sophisticated than Lyle could ever be, something broke within her heart.  She’d wanted so much better for him.  But even as he didn’t quite look at her, he kept talking.

He told her of the gang he’d been in, of seeing no other life or future for himself.  Told her of a little boy named Isaac, her first grandchild.  You’ll meet him someday, long before you should.  He’s such a good kid.  I know you’ll love him, and he’ll love you.  Told her of nearly three decades of mistakes and failures after this.  She might have thought it was a life of only regrets, but then he told her of a new life he’d made, of Sadie, of Canada and the children who had lived, grandchildren she would never see: Beatrice, named for her.  Matthew.  Susanna.  Andrew.  

She felt that pull, as if being summoned.  Light fading, like a fire dimmed now beyond embers.  Arthur must have seen it as well, because he stopped telling her about little things, and reached out to take her hand.  Beatrice felt someone else take her other hand--Sadie, then.  “I don’t exactly know how we got here,” he said quietly.  “But I know how it was that day.  I came back with Daddy and you was gone already.  And...that always stayed with me.  That I wasn’t there.  And I know how it is.  Nobody ought to die alone like that.”  There was some kind of knowing weariness to his voice at that, a question she would never be able to ask and he would never be able to answer for her.  “So here we are.”    So much that would be left unsaid, but no matter.  She would see in time.  She would see all of it, and there was comfort to it, because now she knew her boy would be all right in the end.  That he would remember her too, that he loved her.  That put her fear to rest, and so now she could rest.  There were no vultures now, only the final words of love and farewell spoken, and the reassurance of the hands holding hers as everything faded into peace. 

[gaitwae]

Wildest Dreams [|] Loki x Reader

Sequel to Mr. Perfectly Fine

Warnings: 

Summary: Loki remembers what he’s done to you. You work through the hurt, deciding not to rush whatever’s really going on.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz @itscomplicatedx @sophlubbwriting​ @darkacademicfrom2021 @lilyofthesword 

It was absolutely safe to say that when your eyes opened, you were scared out of your mind. Loki was sleeping on your couch, his fingers laced with yours. Vaguely, all too quickly, you realized that accepting his dashing-yet-blunt proposal wasn’t a fantasy.

Hurt bubbled up in your chest. Your eyes stung dully as you removed your hand from his. You checked his temperature: it was low. He was drunk. He was sitting on your couch with your smudged lip color on his. He did think you were engaged now, despite the fact that you were quickly realizing how bad that was.

Loki hurt you.

Loki hurt you real bad.

You couldn’t marry this man, no matter how much you might have wanted to those years ago. You never would have said yes! Loki just... he seemed so sad. He had never cried in front of you, not if you didn’t count Frigga’s funeral, and even then, that wasn’t anything like... well... that display. His tears were like salt in the wound, laughing right at you. You put some distance between the two of you. You cleaned his mouth off with your sleeve, wondering how on Earth you were going to explain this to Bucky.

Oh, no.

Bucky.

Bucky was going to have to hear Loki’s hungover insistance that you were now his fiancée. He was also going to have to hear about how you kissed Loki back. You had to be honest. You had to call your boyfriend. There was no skipping over the truth when you were dating a lawyer, no matter how much you wanted to avoid it.

It was better that he heard it from you rather than the ex boyfriend laying on your couch.

You dialed Bucky’s number. He picked up quickly. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Bucky, Loki came over,” you said quickly, “and he was drunk... he, uh, kissed me, and he proposed to me because apparently you were planning on asking me to marry you?” You swallowed, trying to think of how to redeem yourself. “I got so swept up with emotion from the past, I said yes, I didn’t mean to, but Loki was already crying and I needed him to calm down — he’s — he’s asleep, but if he starts getting protective by the time you come home, I’m so sorry—!”

“Wait,” Bucky said, cutting you off. “Baby, explain this again. Calmly, okay?” He didn’t sound too worried. Then again, this might be the quiet before the storm.

“Loki came by our house, drunk. He was crying, and I got nervous. He kissed me, proposed, and then asked me to marry him. I didn’t know what to do, so I said yes. I’m so, so sorry....”

“Well, you’re not going to marry him, are you?” he asked, sad humor slipping in. Your heart sank.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but hey? What could you do? You held the phone to your ear gingerly, keeping an eye on Loki’s sleeping form. “I-I mean, no. No.”

The anger slowly started to build. You understood it. You hoped he would be mad at you instead of Loki. “You don’t know? Or ‘no’? What is it?”

“James, it isn’t like that,” you protested. You bit your tongue and your cheek. If the world was perfect, you would have married Loki like you were set on. You would have had children with him, by now. As you spoke, you found you weren’t faced with the possibility of losing Bucky, but the possibility of throwing away your decade-old dreams. “I swear. I don’t want to marry anybody, right now. I don’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why couldn’t you? What if I did propose, Y/N?” Defensive. Protective. Angry. Hurt. Why? Had Loki been right? 

You hadn’t ever talked about marrying Bucky. You couldn’t imagine that life. “Bucky, can we save this for later?” you begged through the phone. “Please, I’m worried about Loki; he’s never drunk himself stupid before.” You scratched your neck. In your wildest dreams, you had never imagined falling back into Loki’s temptation.

You had finally woken up clean, and he had to try to bring you back down.

“Y/N?” he asked after a moment. Barnes sounded hollow. Hollow, but understanding. There was a shuffle over the phone and you couldn’t tell what it was. Was he leaving? Was he moving around? Would he forgive you?

“Yeah?” you managed. 

“You still love him. Don’t you?” 

Your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth. Your tears welled up. No wonder you were able to be friends with Loki. No wonder you weren’t able to just forget about him. With an ocean of regret in your voice, you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

James sighed. “Okay. Well, we can talk things through at home... I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen, I know you’ve been as faithful as you can be. You wouldn’t be calling and crying otherwise.” He sniffed. “I shouldn’t have planned a proposal without clearing it with you. We haven’t talked about marriage.”

“Bucky, if I do ever marry, I don’t want you to worry if it’s you or Loki. I don’t even know if I want to marry anyone. Loki clearly has feelings for me, I can’t just pretend that I don’t have remaining feelings when he could very well keep coming by... Gosh.” You sat down in a chair. You looked at your left hand, which had no ring on it. It was bare. 

“I’ll head home,” Bucky said. “Sit tight. Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up the phone. You held your head in your hands, silently cursing yourself for being the world’s biggest pushover. Your ex waltzed in, gave off a teary show, and then pleaded for your heart like he was on death row, and you listened. Were you an idiot? What kind of mistake were you making? Could you up and leave Bucky for some tool who could change his mind as quickly as he had four years ago?

You sat there for what seemed like hours; it was probably only one or two, considering how long Bucky’s firm was from your home. Your boyfriend eventually stepped through the door and pulled you into his arms, millions of apologies being swapped between the two of you. 

You sat at the table and talked for almost three hours. Every now and then, it was bordering an argument, but you both kept your cool. Bucky knew how hard you were trying to be there for him, to be his, but when it came down to it, you were always Loki’s. You had a raw wound. You knew how much Bucky wanted to be yours, but as it turned out, he was proposing because it seemed like what was expected of him. Through the conversation, you learned that maybe it was smarter to take a break, maybe stay roommates, and try to exist as friends again.

“If Loki makes you happy,” Bucky whispered, “then I think you should try again. He’s changed; he’s made changes for you. He’s been good to you. We’ve been barely getting by these past months.”

“I know,” you replied. “But I’m not going to turn around and just run after him. That’s not smart. You’re still in my life, Buck.”

“All I see is you,” he murmured.

“I know,” you said again.

Bucky stood up. “I’m going to stay at Steve’s tonight, doll. Um... make sure Loki has water when he wakes up. Give him a good tongue-thrashing for me.” He offered a weak smile.

You sniffled. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be up playing nurse — don’t worry about anything.”

Bucky nodded. “Got it.” He scratched his nose. “I’ll drop by in the morning and see if there’s anything I can help with.”

+-+--

When Loki woke up, the headache was the first thing he complained of. “Y/N?” he groaned. You were sitting next to him, hands tucked under your arms. You were gazing down at him, watching his face as his expression changed from pained to embarrassed. “Please tell me what happened was just a fever dream...”

You shook your head. “You proposed to me.”

“You said ‘yes’,” he breathed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my Norns. I’m so sorry; you don’t have to marry me. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have even come by — I walked from the bar, in the rain, with only the thought of taking you back...”

“I figured,” you chuckled lightly. You didn’t meet his eyes. You played with the hem of your shirt. “Bucky and I might break up, though. You told on him. His planned proposal, I mean.” 

“You aren’t breaking up because of me, are you?”

“No; not entirely. I’m still... You’re trouble, you know that? I’m going to get a reputation.”

“You need one,” Loki joked. “People will be less likely to take advantage of you, then. Odinson’s Wife — the Terrifying Maiden.”

“I’m no maiden,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m still upset from our breakup. That’s why Bucky and I are thinking about calling it quits. I wasn’t over you when I thought I was, so just shut up and drink some water.” You handed him a glass. “You can’t hold your liquor, you know.”

Loki took it gingerly. “Oh, I hate how well you know me,” he sighed, taking a long sip. “Do I get some aspirin?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “You said you’ve been carrying Frigga’s ring in your pocket since she died?”

“I did?” He furrowed his brows. “That’s right, I did... I’ve been keeping it for you, I must admit.”

“You said.”

Loki sat up, taking your hand. “I have your picture in my wallet.”

“You what?” You blinked. “You didn’t say that.” You scooted a little closer. 

“Well, no, I didn’t; I didn’t need you to drop my glass heart, now, did I?” Loki smirked a little. “You know it always has been you, lover.”

“I’m not your lover,” you said exasperatedly. 

Loki kissed your cheek. Although you pushed him off once or twice, he managed to snake his arms around your waist and hang on you. “Not yet. I will marry you, whatever it takes.”

+-+--

Sidewalk chalk was an odd Christmas tradition with Thor’s kids. It was another three years after Loki’s drunken proposal, and you and Bucky eventually sorted it out and found you were both much, much happier. Bucky married Sarah Wilson, taking her two boys as his own stepchildren. You were still in the grey area with Loki, but you wouldn’t deny that you were about ready to scream if he didn’t at least try to pop the question.

“Y/N, darling, I brought you something!” Loki’s voice came from upstairs. Thor’s house was large, and the wife he had picked opted to be a stay-at-home mother while the toddlers were toddling. He poked his head out from the upstairs balcony and grinned at you like a madman. 

“What did you bring me?” you asked, arching your brow at your boyfriend-but-not-really. He stomped down the stairs, thrusting a little blue bag in your hands.

“I’ve brought glad tidings. I’ve come to free you~” he teased, poking your sides. “My undying affection. My most-ardent love for you—”

“—Can it, tell me what it is,” you said, cutting him off. Loki pulled you flush against his chest, peppering your cheek with kisses.

“I want you to imagine us... you, standing in a nice dress, me, staring at you staring at the sunset,” he whispered, lacing your fingers. “Happy Christmas, darling.”

“What is it?” you pressed, looking in the bag. It was a little picture of a house. “What?”

“That’s our home, sweetheart,” Loki said, resting his head on top of yours. “We’ll live there after the wedding, raise our children...”

“You’re still trying to get me to marry you?” you asked.

“We’ve been engaged for three years!” he scolded playfully. “Not even in your wildest dreams, I would not be trying to make you my wife.”

“What if I am your wife?”

“I’ll try to marry you again!” he laughed, kissing you sweetly.