#never mind however many cavities i probably have

[beansnpeets]

Canada finally announced a universal dental plan for Canadians making under 70k a year. But unless you're elderly or disabled you can't apply until 2025.

I suppose I will continue to wait to deal with my dental stuff...

[jc-lambert]

Fiberglass

Good. Progress must be getting made now that it's well known that Denis Lynn Rader is my personal hero. He was known as BTK, killed a bunch of women in the Wichita area.

I voted for Roseanne.

I've scored a sample ounce of my pot.

Their reefer is bunk, it has purple hairs and does nothing but give me allergies.

The vote has been recanted. Fuck their peace parades and protest marches. Tell them to fork over the farms that produced the split pea soup at the potluck. Tell the ministries that passing out hand warmers in ziplock bags cost them their lives and we would rather kill them than allow them to operate a local church or homeless outreach.

Remind the local churches, all Christian Faithed Ministries in the area of Wichita Kansas have been reported as Terrorist Organizations operating within the terrorist state of Kansas. So has Black Lives Matter.

Remind these people: we are called the "Anti Christ" & "Anti-Christ Group Mind" for a goddman good reason. While working with my identity, do remember my citizenship was denounced. I would rather be in Communist Asia.

My sister was sold into Asia from the Atlanta Airport by Kobayashi, all these handwarmers distributed locally must be coming out of her twat. The bumble bee tuna isn't appreciated either. Skipjack Tuna is an endangered species of fish. It's fucking rude. So lets just start killing anyone who pulls up in a fiberglass auto and distributes such shit.

Everyone & every last store located in Kansas caught in possession of a can of illegally poached wild tuna...

LET'S KILL THEM AND LOCK UP THEIR CUSTOMERS

(wilest smoking this bunk purple haze, also known lovingly as "reefer")

So...

We are doing things like having beings of interest in & from Emporia raped and murdered: and doing so as just a "college joke" and smiling, calling THAT therapy. You know, that the irish midgets from school are being killed & fed to anything that will eat a midget, that our old whorish vicarious bicurious manager at Taco Tico doesn't have a son. She has modified genderless eunuch offspring. I mean shit: if Fraternity X was legal to produce, then so too would be another round of "Faces of Death" and "Massacre Tours, the Americas".

I do smile at the death of North Americans moreso than say Asians, Europeans, Africans, South Americans or Middle Easterners. I truly do. It's probably because my entire life has been here, in North America, and every day since birth has been a fight and mortal protest.

Progress is being made with the herd of whores who've for years who've been in breech of codes of confidentiality, engaged in corporate espionage as well as whistleblowers on classified (top secret) projects. Too: they've manipulated society heavily by hiding behind my identity. They've all voted heavily for fiberglass and plastics: and in many cases, political, religious, and corporate treason. Persons such as my mother, her eldest daughter, and her eldest step-sister.

Mommy Dearest and her pride of catty cunty little feminist bitches have been sold as prostitutes to lawyers in the BDSM ring. So instead of all the girls going to court and meeting their attorney: We've hired them teams of lesbian attorneys to give them a ball gag (gag order) ride them side saddle, whilst spanking them with a riding crop and knocking croquet balls into hoops.

Lambda Legal is playing prostitute polo, also known as hooker croquet. It's what happens when the family fag aint gay enough to give a blow job to the attorney working for all the white trash women, when the women are all Amazonians exhibiting homosexual tendencies. So: all the women are sort of going to be elsewhere for a good long while. Such a herd of whores after such violations do tend to land in prison subjected to a cavity search with grass stains on their knees.

Said progress, is that it's known my name may never come out of their mouths again, especially when describing themselves. True, it can always come out: however if it in the event, there is always a series of lawsuits that can, may, and will ensue.

The City of Wichita and any city where there might possibly be the name "Lambert" used in cellular, telecommunications or radio is about to be sued until it becomes fiberglass, to be sold into China & Russia. Fiberglass, is what happens when trees, sand, and animals are thrown into a melting pot.

Most American fiber glass comes from small 3rd World Communist nations. In many cases: the body of your car or bus is made of fiberglass, within that fiberglass is a dead fat dictator. In this case: Ron & Kathleen McClure are about to be the fat dead dictative whores in the next batch.

I am still lacking an apology from the Kansas Community that my ass is still even still in the state.

My vote is still for peace and freedom...

but there probably wont be any while the women are sitting there throwing their vaginas all over the place screaming "I am woman hear me roar". This is why I drink where I do. They don't allow women or drag queens up in that bitch. My home and daily life: are to be the same way. So why are there women being seen in public, often walking on streets I have overpaid taxes on with my personal accounts? Why are these enemy whores passing out products scored by selling my sibling and political support out into Asia?

Can/may I just have my mother and her people/family just beaten to death by a rabid herd of niggers?

[olive-gardens-breadstick]

sandman hope!hob au Pandora's box

okay so we know DC follows Greek/roman mythology to a point right? so Pandora's box must exist, and we all know the story right? hope gets trapped in the box after Pandora opens it.

part 2

wordcount: 1551

hope!hob is trapped within this box for several millennia all alone, not even taunted by captors, just isolated in the dark and quiet watching as new awful things are born within the box. I imagine the box is opened by someone just before the age of heroes begins. a scorned lover pouring all the new horrid things directly into their cheating, abusive partner and catching a very small light before it enters their gaping chest cavity. they hold hope there, magically closing the wound and sealing their lover into an endless void, outside of time’s realm condemning them to live forever in never ending pain. they do all this with one hand, carefully holding hope, they take his small form outside and whisper into their hand

“do something worthwhile with this freedom, any god out there knows we need you” the words are washy and weak “and if you cannot find the strength to do it all yourself, bless people to inspire you within the minds of the rest of us”

they open their hand and hob’s little light form takes off to see just how the world got on without him. not well obviously, a world with no hope is desolate and cold. hope goes back to his realm to call on his sister death to catch him up, and she tells him she knows just the person to do just that.

Morpheus has been around a long time. he was born after Pandora opened the box and the only word the people of his village called him was hopeless. this was not a surprise of course, hope was not where he was supposed to be, but the rest of the children still seemed to want to live. Morpheus however made it seem like a chore. he went through the motions as they came and did nothing more or less. he was a thing of beauty though, his demeanor didn’t stop suitors from pursuing him. they all did their best but none of them ever seemed to interest him. he even caught the eye of a king who gifted him a ruby necklace saying it popped against his pale skin and dark hair. Morpheus did not particularly want to keep it but his parents had insisted he keep it and marry the king anyway.

and so he did.

he was not particularly fond of his husband, but he didn’t dislike him. the marriage and his husband were just another motion. the grounds of his husband's kastro were vast and stretched for miles and ended in cliffs that Morpheus found himself standing before at the end of the many walks he took in a day. one particular evening, when the winds were stronger that usual, he found himself lingering at the cliff’s edge a bit longer and a bit closer than he normally would, and so had someone else

“are you going to jump?”

to say the voice had startled him would be incorrect, it had simply shifted his focus. the woman who the voice belonged to was dressed in a fine ebony cloth and a very simple necklace with a strange symbol he could not place, and her skin was just as pale as his, if someone had seen them together they might’ve thought they were siblings, still Morpheus did not especially care who she was or what she was doing here but answered her nonetheless

“no, but would it really matter if i did?”

“what does it matter? you know, most people have some sort of emotion towards the prospect of dying.”

“i suppose they do, don’t they? i don’t see why though, it’s going to happen whether they want it to or not”

“they probably see the beauty, or in some cases pain, that life has to offer” Morpheus tilted his head and thought for a moment before looking back at the woman

“perhaps life has nothing to offer me, nothing of value anyway” he said starting his way back to the kastro past the woman dressed in black. he had already gotten past her as she cocked her head and called back to him

“you know how you said it happens whether one wants it to or not?” he stopped and turned back to her

“yes, what of it?”

“it’s not going to happen to you”

“what?” she turned to face him once more

“you aren’t going to die, whether you want to or not. you are going to watch as life progresses and evolves into something you, at this moment, could never even fathom.” she beamed, before he could question her further one of the servants called his name, it was late and the king wanted him back in the kastro, he called back saying he’d be in soon, but when he turned to face her, she was gone.

now, hundreds of thousands of years later, as he stands in the entrance to his home, standing in the living room, the woman is before him once more for the second time. her clothes match the days casual fashion just as they had before, all black and very simple with the same necklace. the man next to her, however, is wearing clothes that fit with the first outfit he has at the very bottom of a trunk in his attic. a long pale yellow tunic with white underneath with traditional sandals. his hair reaches just above his shoulders and his head seems to have a faint gold glow around it. he's looking around at the shelves of books, movies and various musical mediums with awe before moving on to the trinkets and sculptures scattered around.

"I don't believe I introduced myself the last time we met" she pipes up drawing Morpheus's attention away from the man

"you did not." he confirms as he sets his bag down and hangs his coat "you also left quite suddenly" he adds as he takes off his shoes

"yes I did" she laughs "I'm here to rectify one of those things, I am death of the endless and this," she pauses to pull the man behind her to her side "is my brother, hope" the man smiles "and I have a favor to ask of you"

morpheus tilts his head "a favor, why would i do you a favor?"

"its not really for me, its for him" she says pushing him forward a bit

"he doesn't have to do anything for me if he doesn't want to" he says to her before turning to Morpheus "you really don't, I can figure it out by myself, sister I can figure it out on my own this really isn't necessary" his motions are slightly sporadic

"figure what out?" he asks walking to the kitchen thinking about what type of drink to get for his guests.

"you don't have to worry about it, it-"

"my brother hasn't been able to reach this realm for quite awhile, he needs someone to catch him up on what he's missed" death interrupts with a smile "and I thought who better than someone whos been around the longest?" she asks as she follows him to the kitchen

Morpheus ponders this for a moment 'what he's missed?' he pops his head out of the kitchen to take another look at hope 'based on his clothes he's probably never had hot chocolate' he thinks as he goes back in to start gathering the various types of chocolate from his pantry and put some milk on the stove.

"if I were to help him. what would I have to do? just give him the internet, could he just absorb the information?" he questions as he cuts up a chocolate bar.

"internet? what's an internet?" hope asks panicked "can it catch me? is it magic?"

"no hope, no, nononononono, it cant catch you" she reassures him "its like destiny's book but, um, well its hard to explain but its not a net, it cant catch you" she puts her hands on his shoulders and quietly says "no one is going to catch you again I promise. I wont let them"

'catch him again? where was he?' he thinks as he stops cutting 'who caught him?'

"okay no internet"

"no internet"

"i guess, i could just, i dont know, tell him stories?" morpheus suggests pouring the chocolate into the milk and stirring

"stories sound nice, i'd like to hear stories." hope says in a small voice

"you're gonna need some new clothes though," he says pouring the hot chocolate in a cup "tunics aren't exactly in style anymore. here I think you'll like this" he says handing it to hope, watching his reaction as his face lights up. like actually lights up. well not his face per say, but the light around his head.

"this is delightful! what is it?" hope beams (literally) looking into his cup

"you may not have been around but you still live within their souls, if ever so slightly. they are never truly free of you, hope" death says leaning over the counter. "anyway. hope, when Morpheus lights this candle it means he's ready to tell you a story. okay?" he nods "alright lets get you bac to your realm" "okay :)" and with that they're gone.

"..."

"I didn't even really agree" Morpheus says, holding the candle.

n e ways i hope the four people who see this and also read through all of it like it! thank you for reading!

[gogolstoelicker]

Hi, I don't know if anyone has request this yet but can you do a Dorm leaders x Raiden Shogun!Mc?

Dorm leaders with a Raiden Shogun!MC

Warning(s):

notes: i might be a little too gay but i would kiss ei on the lips

Due to your dedication to eternity, you're wary to the idea of a change. However, you show curiosity rather than disdain when it comes to new things.

Having lost many of your of your loved ones over the centuries, you're driven by a fear of further lost. Even when you locked yourself in Plane of Euthymia, you could not truly escape loneliness.

Riddle:

you guys bond over ur love for sweets that u get invited to unbirthday parties everytime its held

like unbirthday party? hey where's the prefect i wanna invite them

this will suit the prefect's taste

prefect-

we get it riddle, sweet bonding is very effective

yes, we all know what to do just go invite them or smth

he really likes talking to you!

sure u could be pretty intimidating but you listen well

u seem to be very knowledgeable even tho you're a boomer in modern day technologies

plus, u follow the rules well too‼️

if only COUGH your two friends SIDE EYED can learn a little from u🤔🙄

probably got striked down by u during his overblot LMFOAOAOA

never again. its his worst nightmare now.

Leona:

jealousy jealousy?

i mean he wants to be a king, a ruler and in front of him is a ruler themselves?

finds out you're kind of a tyrant before having a change of heart tho so PFT

well he doesn't really mind ur presence that much

you're not that annoying

just gives u a few desserts and you're alr sitting down quietly munching on those exact same dessert

plus, u don't really boost abt ur status as a ruler so his ego is not as hurt thankfully🤗

he's kind of surprised by how much of a boomer u are LMFOAOAO

a ruler and u don't even know how a phone works????

give him that rn🤨🙄

ur position as a ruler or the phone u may ask?

hehe🤗🤗

Azul:

almost got striked down

not even kidding, he almost became grilled octopus in a day all bc he pissed u off

he now cowers in fear for whenever u reach for ur sword

probably gave him the scar of his life LMDKSNSKS

other than that, he had a good time doing deals with u

u seem to be fine with anything as long as it doesn't effect ur pursuit of eternity + bonus desserts

so azul made sure to do exactly that!!

what, u want some dessert from monstro lounge?

only if u help him gain more cutomers🤗‼️

or maybe u can give him that swor-

he was /j pls don't pull it out😅😅😥😥

Kalim:

ur broke ass with his rich ass can at least work the perfect balance

maybe?

just as curious abt the world, i dont even know what jamil would feel abt the two of you hanging out all the time

imagine kalim just bringing u to fly around with the magic carpet at random times and jamil is just

👹🥀⛓️i am in misery⛓️🥀👹

well at lesst u guys had fun?

kalim is more than happy to tell u how the modern technology works!

this phone? LEAVE IT TO HIM!

what's a computer? let him show u!!

how do u use a camera? he's already rolling up his sleeves to get ready to show u how to use it

well in return, u tell him lots of stories from ur time back in inazuma!

u even shared ur desserts with him!!

BEST BUDDIES HONESTLY💔💔

Vil:

he likes your style

its some old traditional style with armour but he really likes how it suits you

nothing better than knowing what suits u and wear exactly that

but u really need to control ur sweet intake

there's not a day where he doesn't see u munching down on sone sweets

it could really effect ur diet u know🤨

well he tried to help

spoiler alert: it did not help

either u dont care and want to keep eating the sweets or u genuinely forgot the moment u take a look at sweets

but he always see u munching on them even after he told u to be careful with ur sweet intake

ur talk abt replacing u teeth if u ever got cavities is quite concerning too😥😥

Idia:

probably saw u slash some ass from the cameras and got scared from there

like the magicless is striking down people with some sword they kept somewhere near their chest thats actually their heart?5!"5!5"8

and they can summon electricity?5!5"2!2"

and they're a god who's ruling a whole nation back in their world??!5?!!!

^that's how much he finds out in like

a week? from listening in on what even are u

now he's even more intimidated

well until he saw u just

gobbling down some desserts with no care in the world

u would probably still eat it even if its poisoned mostly bc it well

desserts💓💓

stayed up late at night if what he heard and saw was all fake all this time after LFMKAKAOA

Malleus:

ah yes, a ruler and a future ruler

both are immortals too

who are very lonely

you guy will surely get along well

he can rant abt those uh things (i forgot to spell and my keyboard and google is not helping at all)

he might even sneak out some sweets with him the next time he went to meet you bc u seem to like them very much

boomers LMFOAOAOA

"how do u use a camera?" "idk how do u use a camera?"

probably never rode a car too

forget riding a car, probably never even seen it

well maybe malleus have at least seen it but u??? what kind of car u seeing in the plane of euthymia

people are super intimidated by the two of you

like a dragon and a god🤔one strike and you're gone

might even spar with u here and there

hes so happy he got u as a friend he might suddenly move twisted wonderland to inazuma /hj

[sylverstorms]

Miranda x Maiden ----Thaw

This fic is a Ko-Fi commission I wrote for the wonderful @uni--tea looking out for all you Miranda lovers. I hope you enjoy!

They have been working non-stop for the better part of the day in her lab.

Miranda only suspects how late it has gotten when she looks up from her microscope, to find her protege slightly slumped over several notes. A stance highly uncharacteristic of the girl with the permanently square shoulders and regal posture... which prompts her to check the time.

It is well past midnight.

That certainly explains a lot.

Carefully, the blonde puts her samples back in their containers for later study, then pushes off her desk, towards her assistant. The very same one she has tired out with experiments, both on her atypical Cadou and on others, since the late morning.

Something inside Miranda feels… strange, at the realization. A hint bitter, a tad irked at herself.

“Abigail.” The quiet call breaks the silence of the laboratory. The girl does not have to turn much, for the blonde is already leaning over her shoulder, golden-clawed hand resting there almost as a reprimand. “Why did you not tell me to leave earlier?”

“I know you better than to expect that would have changed anything.” comes the straight answer, as one brown and one red eye lock with Miranda’s icy blue.

That… is true, she will admit, but the fact remains she could have spoken up about being overworked by her. Or, at the very least, asked for a break so she could eat, instead of going the whole day –all of those taxing tests!— with an empty stomach. Miranda cannot tell why that fact suddenly bothers her as much as it does.

“You’re exhausted. We’re leaving.” she announces.

“I—no. I’m fine. I know you’re not done yet.” Abigail protests, but the talons on her shoulder move up to her nape, pressing in, in what is both a caress and a reproach.

Crystal eyes watch as she tries, not-quite-successfully, to suppress a shiver. Miranda’s lip quirks. She knows how her protege loves it when she does that.

“Do not argue with me. I said, we’re leaving.”

-

-

The stronghold is eerily quiet at night. The Lycans’ howling throughout the forest does not penetrate its thick walls in the slightest, leaving the interior a bastion of tranquility.

Miranda walks beside Abigail, the pair occasionally highlighted by the moonlight that steams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

At the grand hallway that separates their rooms, the girl turns to bid her goodnight, but the blonde only tugs on her black side-cloak, a silent command to proceed further along.

It is a cold night in the heart of winter. A goddess will not wait for her bed to warm itself. That is how she justifies her decision to herself, anyway.

“You can shower first. I have to call Alcina and make sure the task I assigned to her is coming along well.” Miranda says.

Abigail gives a nod. Her clever fingers make quick work of the many clasps of her outfit. Miranda’s gaze does not leave her, until the protege disappears into the bathroom, clothes loose yet still hanging on her person.

As much as Abigail's pride will not ever let her admit it, she is extremely self-conscious of undressing in front of Miranda still, of leaving her black-hued side and arm into view. The goddess, of course, does not see why.

She is a miracle, her very existence, the way the Cadou has so flawlessly assimilated into her form as to become her left side. Other than the coloration, the mutation is perfect. And perfection should not be hidden away.

Still, she respects her protege’s bounds and extinguishes any and all artificial lights when they lay together.

Miranda makes her phone-call, aware of Abigail finishing her shower just as she concludes her business with Alcina. By the time she removes her talons and godly embroidery, the girl has vacated the space for her.

The hot water does wonders for the blonde’s skin when it finally graces it. The tension of the day bleeds away, slowly rolls down the drain. She is getting closer to her goal, she muses. Nothing can stop her. Nothing will. Soon…

Soon.

Miranda dresses in a simple black blouse and pants, then dries her hair before walking to bed. The moon’s light illuminates the subtle toning of Abigail’s back nicely, she notes, admiring the sight for a moment. The girl is motionless under her heavy blankets, which probably means she’s fast asleep.

Miranda slips in next to her –the queen-sized mattress is indeed wonderfully warmed– and careful as her movements are, the girl still wakes. Such a light sleeper.

Well, since she’s awake now anyway… Miranda takes advantage by gripping the silken hair at the base of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

It’s not an unfamiliar dance between them at this point and Abigail knows she can touch when Miranda gives her the green light. One liplock turns to more, with tongues languidly brushing and fingers toying with the idea of slipping under tops.

The girl, however, does seem exhausted when Miranda draws back to look at her, so she retreats to her side and leaves Abigail to hers. Her confused expression is adorable. They’ve never started something without finishing it before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“Go to sleep.” They’ve done much for this to be what makes the protege flush red. She hides it away from the moonlight, yet Miranda notices, regardless.

“What?” she asks.

“...Nothing.”

“Say what’s on your mind.” she presses.

“You’re just. Ugh. ...you’re just breathtakingly beautiful like this.” It’s an admission muffled into a pillow, so rapid a normal human may have not even caught the words. The girl turns right around, her back to Miranda after she speaks, bidding a tiny, quiet “Goodnight.”

But the blonde is left there staring at her, a peculiar warmth creeping up her stomach, to the ice-filled cavity of her chest. She wants to genuinely laugh but she’s forgotten how and at the same time gather this precious gem she’s got in her bed into her arms.

And then the scientist in her breaks the haze with a startling realization; these are endorphins and brain chemicals inducing this state, which can only mean one thing…

Oh, no.

She has developed feelings for her protege.

[sugamamacustard]

Reach So High.

Pairing: Alpha! Nishinoya Yu x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Tendo Satori x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff, So much tooth-rotting fluff.

Request: N/A

Summary: You’re used to the world around you not being kind to the vertically impaired, but you and you’re alpha get through it. 

Warnings:  Cavities. 

Author’s Note:  I am so cold right now. Like shivering.

Requests: Open!

NISHINOYA YU

➵ Yu knew what it was like to have issues reaching stuff on high shelves. 

➵ To fall behind when people Tanaka with longer legs decided you need a “light” jog.

➵ To be used as an arm-rest.

➵ Being mistook for  middle schooler- or worse, an elementary student.

➵ He understands all of these all too well. 

➵ But that does not mean he won’t tease the absolute hell out of you. 

➵ You’re his omega, so of course, he’s going to tease you.

➵ Never in a mean or demeaning way, absolutely not, but more light-hearted ways that make you both laugh.

➵ He would never even dream of hurting you, even for the sake of a joke. That’s not who he is, he worked hard to call you his omega and he doesn’t want to let you go ever. He wants to love you for the rest of your natural born live, and will not do anything to risk you.

➵ But, if you’re both in on the joke? Different story. 

➵ He’s holding your drinks above your head, only giving them back when you reward him with kisses. 

➵ He’s hugging you from behind and resting his head on yours. 

➵ Or teasing you as he reaches shelves to your fingertips barely brush against, his own just barely reaching what you want. 

➵ He’s draping his Karasuno jacket over your shoulders as a way to stake his claim. 

➵ Noya knows he’s not always the most intimidating alpha, so he goes the extra length to make sure everyone knows your his. 

➵ And the fact that your perfectly sized for him?

➵ He refuses to let you go, okay?

➵ He is doing everything in his power to be the perfect boyfriend and alpha.

➵ There are probably times Nishinoya runs himself ragged trying to prove himself. 

➵ When those times come around, you simply have to be patient and explain he doesn’t need to do any sort of fancy things for you to love him.

➵ He’s also hesitant to have you with him during volleyball practices, especially practices when the bleachers-- which are a safe distance away-- are closed and your forced to sit on the teams bench. 

➵ You’re so small and the balls are going so fast. 

➵ He’s seen the aftermath with Hinata one too many times. 

➵ Noya only really lets you watch if you promise to stay near Kiyoko or Coach Ukai, both of whom have fast enough reflexes to protect you if need be.

➵ Even then he’s apprehensive on having you there. But that only pushed him to be a better libero, to save the ball before it gets even close to the sidelines. 

➵ He’s holding his breath whenever a fly serve is too far for him to get to, only for it to hit the wall miles away from you. 

➵ His poor heart. 

➵ He does, however, totally loves if you come to his games.

➵ There you’re in the bleaches, behind nets that protect you and high enough no fly serves can hit you. 

➵ It makes him feel better and he’s always at the top of his game when you’re there.

➵ Everyone knows when you show up because he’s so happy and jumpy.

➵ And, if your wearing his Jersey? Especially if you’re wearing his jersey, he’s just so- He’s in love, is the best way to put it. 

➵ Heart eyes, purring subconsciously, waving to you every time he gets on the court, nearly crying when you wave back, and both you of you shaping your hands into hearts when he’s off the court?

➵ He’s loosing it on the court, constantly pointing you out to his-- and the opposing-- team.

➵ “Hey, look at my omega! Aren’t they adorable?!”

TENDO SATORI

➵ Oh, ho, ho. 

➵ Guess monster could not guess how much he would enjoy this. 

➵ No, I kid, I kid. Tendo is honestly one of the best to have in this situation. 

➵ He knows what it’s like to be teased because of things you can’t control. 

➵ He had the same thing happen to him because of the way he looked. It happened up until he presented as an alpha and  even then he was still called ‘Monster’. 

➵ Part of the reason he first started courting you in the first place was because of your first introduction. 

➵ You were the new manager, surprise surprise-- nothing notable. Shiritorizawa went through managers like candy.

➵ And then Goshiki introduced him. 

➵ “This is Tendo Satori, our ‘guess monster-’” You stopped him. You questioned what made him a monster, puffing through your nose when he offered no reasoning. 

➵ He fell then and there, he swears. Up and down, cross his heart. 

➵ Everything else was pretty much history. 

➵ He formed a friendship with you, solidified how much he cared about you and asked to court you with a hand made blanket for your nest. 

➵ He absolutely adored you and everything you did.

➵ Bring him a fresh bottle of water after practice? He’s a purring mess. Remember to bring one of his jackets for him when he’s running late to class? He’s doing everything you want at your beck and call. Breathe? He’s on one knee. 

➵ And that fact that your so small?

➵ He is smitten. 

➵ You’re so small and he’s so big and your little hand fits so well in his???

➵ Honestly, you’re kind of enigma to him. Like you trust him so much but he’s so tall and you just- like??? Him??? For who he his??? G O D S E N D.

➵ He loves picking you up and holding you to his chest after practices, even just walking you home while your hanging off of him, his arms supporting you by your butt. 

➵ He loves doing it anyway, in fact. Like just holding you on his lap while he sits on the bench waiting to sub back in. When he does stand up he takes you with him, scenting you momentarily before setting you back onto the bench, wrapping his jacket around you and giving you a sweet kiss before going on court.

➵ Yes, he is waving at you until he’s on court and in position. Yes, he is babbling about how cute his omega is to the other team.

➵ “Your lucky your in the presence of my omega with how pathetic of a player you are.”

➵  You can scold him, yeah, but nothing’s gonna change how high of a pedestal he’s put you on.

➵ Literally, nothing else compares to you.

➵  He doesn’t mind having you at practices because he’s literally called the guess monster.

➵ Nothing gets close to you. He’s already blocking stray balls or harsh spikes.

➵  He’s also pulling you away under the pretense that he ‘can’t receive every ball’ when you know that bullshit because he’s literally on the biggest powerhouse school that has ever volleyballed 

➵  But you don’t mind because alpha cuddles, right????

➵  The only person Satori trusts you with for extended periods of time is Ushijima.  

➵  It is quite amusing the looks you get. The two super tall, big boy alphas with this tiny omega, following the omega around like dogs on a leash.

➵ Everyone just watches you drag around these alphas that could crush you between their thighs. 

➵ It absolutely hilarious to you and Satori. 

➵ Tendo is not really one to want you wearing his jersey, he more less just wants you in whatever you want

➵ But if that is his jersey, or his jacket, or a sweatshirt of his, he’s not complaining. Never will. As long as his omega is happy.

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

This is chapter two (Chapter one)

Nurse Namaari struggles with the idea of visiting her past patient Raya, but caves.

Warnings: Brief mentions of addiction, and survivor’s guilt. 

Word Count: 2533

--

Three days later

Namaari was sitting in her office writing reports when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," She said as the door slowly opened.

"Hello, It's Sisu; I'm a Psych nurse, we've seen each other multiple times around the ER, but you officially meet me while I was comforting Raya, a past patient of yours. Could I possibly speak with you?" Sisu confidently states while poking her head through the crack of the door.

Namaari raised an eyebrow, shocked to see Sisu at her door. Nevertheless, she nodded. How could she forget that day? Raya's pale body...Sisu's screams...

Snap out of it!

Because of Hippa, Namaari was not allowed to check on Raya. Once a patient leaves the ER, they are no longer her patients, and she has no say in their care, and nine times out of ten, she'll never know if they survived. "Of course. Come take a seat," She finally answers as she motions with her hands that Sisu sits across from her.

Sisu nervously walks over to the chair, sitting down. She looks at a Namaari whose eyes are locked on her purple ones. She chuckles. "This isn't me talking to a coworker, okay. This is me talking to my friend about another friend." Sisu states as she watches Namaari's eyebrows raise before she nods yes, "Raya is in the cardiovascular/pulmonary unit. She survived the emergency surgery! She's still recovering, but she has made it clear she wants the gorgeous nurse that saved her life to visit her."

Namaari was extremely relieved but also confused. "Wait, what? She isn't your girlfriend?" Namaari asked as Sisu's face turned bright red, and she burst out in laughter.

"Hahaha, no! We dated for like a week during nursing school, but we never clicked romantically; We've been best friends ever since tho." Sisu managed to say between her laughter. Once she was able to control herself, she continued talking, "Anyways, she is in the J6 unit in the room: J601," Sisu says with a smirk before standing up from the chair; walking to the door, before stopping to say, "If you visit her, don't do it as a nurse. She's not looking for another member of her health care team. She wants to get to know the YOU who isn't a nurse." With that said, Sisu walks out, closing the door behind her.

Namaari sits at her desk, even more confused. She leans into her chair, thinking for a moment. She really found this girl alluring in every sense, but how was she supposed to chase after a girl she talked to for two minutes before she practically died in her arms. Not practically! She did die!

Maybe that's the reason.

What a great love story would it be...

When Namaari finished her shift three days ago, she broke down: She hadn't cried like that in years! She does remember crying somewhat similarly when she lost her first patient five years ago, but it was a different kind of sadness.

The truth is death was something Namaari had grown accustomed to. Of course, she felt emotional distress when a patient died, but when Raya flatlined; It shattered her.

She often found herself running through the event over and over in her head, trying to pinpoint how she didn't realize the gasps for air between Raya's flirting, where she struggled to breathe.

She should have seen the signs.

She should have realized Raya's heart was straining itself to keep her alive; that's why her blood pressure and pulse skyrocketed before they plummeted.

No matter how many times she runs the scenario in her head, she always blames herself.

When in reality, Namaari is excellent at her job. She has ample experience and education.

Yes, Raya's smile ultimately left her defenseless, but Namaari stood her ground.

Yes, Namaari's heart was fluttering for her patient, but she still put those feelings aside to save her life. Maybe she should stop scolding herself and accept that life is unpredictable.

And one thing holds true: Namaari felt immense attraction for Raya, but she still acted professionally.

Namaari blinked a few times, trying to pull herself out of her thoughts before bringing her hands up to her face, gently rubbing circles into her temples. "What has she done to you?". She asked herself as she laughed and looked at the time; 4 PM, her shift will be over in three hours. After her shift finishes, she'll shower quickly in the staff showers and change into clean scrubs. She scoffs when she realizes she'll have to wear blueberry-colored scrubs; that's the only colored scrubs the hospital provides.

The hospital has their staff color-coded, adult nurses wear grey scrubs, child nurses wear pink, x-ray technicians wear black, pharmacists and phlebotomists wear light blue, nursing assistants wear burgundy, and surgical residents wear blueberry-colored scrubs. Actually, most residents wear blueberry scrubs, but most commonly, you'll see surgical residents marching around the hospital in their blueberry scrubs.

--

"OWW OWW OWWW," Raya screams as a surgical resident removes the chest tube that was once allowing the excess air pooled in her chest cavity to escape her body, caused by her collapsed lung. It was no longer needed as the punched lung was fixed during her emergency surgery; they should have taken it out before but hadn't, fearing her lung could collapse again.

Raya felt utterly stupid. She was an extraordinary nurse, and she knew the signs of a collapsed lung, pneumothorax, but she ignored them.

If she thinks back to that day in the ER, she can vividly remember her chest burning in pain; shortness of breath, lightheadedness, an elevated pulse, and finally, the icing on the cake, her left shoulder hurt: All tale signs that her broken rib punctured her lung. Yet, she chose to ignore the warnings.

At least now, she can fully understand the power of adrenaline on someone's mind and body. It can genuinely make you believe that severe pain is minimal and that you'll be okay.

"Sorry, Ms.Hart. Do you want me to press on your magic pain button" The resident stated, causing Raya to stare back at them with frowning eyebrows before nodding no.

Raya was given a medicine button she can press for narcotics every so often, but she was trying not to press the button unless she really needed to. She knows firsthand how quickly people can get addicted to those meds.

The resident chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot you're a nurse, and I don't need to call it a magic button." Raya faked a smile before chuckling. She wasn't trying to be mean at all, but she hated being on the other side. Raya loved being the nurse, and suddenly she's the patient.

The resident smiled once more before excusing themselves out.

"You can stop fake smiling now," Sisu said.

She was curled up on a couch against the window. She had her eyes closed as she was sleeping. "Ughhh, I'm going to be late to my shift," She said, opening her eyes, noticing the clock on the wall before standing up from the couch, where she stretched before smiling. "Nightshift is the bestttt" She joked as she folded the sheets she was using to sleep.

"You must be exhausted! You haven't left the hospital in three days because of your back and forth from your shifts to watching me!! Go home, sleep in your own bed, and shower with shampoo that actually cleans your hair because your hair looks a mess right now." Raya sighed as she sat up in the bed, looking at Sisu with pleading eyes.

"You're my best friend, Raya!" Sisu stated as she finished folding the sheets and turned to look at Raya with tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "You dead...I watched you die." She exhaled as solo tears escaped her eyes; she quickly wiped them away with her thumbs.

Raya was looking at Sisu with sorrow and regret. She knew getting into a fight with Tong was stupid, and they didn't mean to injure each other terribly, but somehow they did. However, she knew she couldn't keep this conversation going as Sisu had 10 minutes to get to the psych department for her shift. So instead, she smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Note to self! Never die again." This statement caused Sisu to chuckle as she picked up her overnight bag; that holds her clean scrubs.

Sisu quickly walks over to Raya, side hugging her gently to not hurt her before pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. "I got to go. If anything happens, please call my office, okay! I MEAN IT." She stated firmly before running out the door.

Raya sighed before she burst out in tears. She had been playing strong for Sisu, but she was in shock. She was sure her best friend knew, but Raya really wasn't ready to talk about it. Raya knew deep down that she was having survives guilt, an overpowering and almost dominating emotion.

Her tears soon became sobs, and she felt her body begin to shake. She knew it was a panic attack, so she began to take deep breaths to calm herself.

Eventually, the trembling stopped while her tears persisted; her body was weakened by the energy needed to cry. She was also physically distressed now as each sob caused a painful sting to travel up her spine.

So she finally pressed her medicine button.

As time went by, her tears lessened, and her pain was managed. Soon enough, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

--

"You're the girlfriend?" Some unknown voice asked.

"Yeah, sure." She heard Namaari's voice hesitantly answer. "I've been in here for an hour, and she just doesn't wake up. Is everything okay?"

The other voice hummed as the conversation amused her. "I'm looking at her patient chart, and it only says to release personal information to Sisudatu." The unknown voice said,  probably her night nurse. "HIPPA Man. I wanna help you, but--"

"Yea, I know. It was worth a try, though." Namaari answered, sighing.

"She's just tired. Look closely at her face; maybe you can figure out why she is so exhausted--ANYWAY, press on the call light if you need anything, or poke your head outside the door. Great to meet you...girlfriend Namaari." The nurse chuckled; it was clear she didn't believe that.

Raya so badly wanted to open her eyelids, but they felt so heavy. She tried to speak, but she was too tired to make words. So as she heard Namaari sit on the chair next to her bed, gently grabbing her call button (that's also a tv remote), turning it on. With the very little energy she had, she smiled as she drifted to sleep once again.

--

Nammari woke up curled up in a chair. She looked to her left, seeing a snoring Raya in her patient bed. She smiled, noticing the puffy eyes were gone.

When she came in yesterday around eight pm, she found Raya passed out with red puffy eyes. Tears had stained her cheeks, and her eyebrows frowned. Namaari knew she probably cried herself to sleep before she got there; she even tried to confirm it with her night nurse but to no avail. She yawned as she brought her left hand up to her eye level to look at her watch. 7:30 AM.

She lightly rubbed her tired eyes as someone burst into the room. She removed her hands from her eyes, spotting a very tired Sisu pulling the curtain open. Once Sisu noticed her, a wide smile spread on her face; she turned and noticed Raya was sleeping, so she whispered, "Hey, Namaari. Great to see you! Did you just get here?" She said excitedly as she yawned, placing her bag on the floor; Quickly shuffling to the couch that folds out to a bed.

"I came yesterday, but she was sleeping. It looked like she shouldn't be left alone, so I kinda fell asleep here," Namaari replied as she watched Sisu unfold some sheets, probably getting ready to sleep, she presumed. "I don't work today. I can stay with her..." She began to say as Sisu's eyes shot up from the couch to meet her's with a massive grin on her face.

"Are you completely sure?" Sisu asked, raising an eyebrow. Namaari noticed the eyebags and the apparent exhaustion. She nodded yes before opening her mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice. Raya's voice.

The voice Namaari's been repeatedly hearing in her mind. Precisely when Raya called her a 'godly woman.' Thinking back to that moment made her blush.

"She's... *yawn* ...giving you... *yawn* ..an out.. *yawn* ...take it," Raya stuttered as her eyelids fluttered open. She noticed Namaari first on her right and smiled but brought her gaze back to her best friend. "Go home. It's been four days now. I'm okay."

Sisu tilted her head to the side, looking at Raya with knowing eyes. She turned to look at Namaari. "Raya had a panic attack after I left. That's why she was so exhausted; I'm assuming it's survivor's guilt, but I'm her best friend, so I'm not allowed to evaluate her." Sisu said while crossing her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows before turning her gaze to Raya. "I'm scared to leave again," She admitted as her tone became soft.

"I'm very much capable of taking care of her," Namaari stated. She knew this current situation was unusual. Truthfully a part of her wanted to leave, believing she didn't deserve even a slimmer of a chance of happiness. However, something kept her there—the desire to TRY and get to know Raya.

Namaari was very self-aware that if she let the opportunity of getting to know Raya personally slip, she would always wonder, what if . Because the truth is, if it doesn't work out, then she can at least say she tried.

Sisu uncrossed her arms and looked over at Namaari. "As a friend?" Sisu questioned Namaari, "Or as a nurse?"

Namaari chuckled. "I'm not part of her medical staff," She stated as she raised her hands in defeat. "I'm here as a friend."

"I thought you said we were girlfriends tho? Or was I dreaming?" Raya randomly blurted, both the other girls looking at her. Sisu's face showing confusion, and Namaari's embarrassment.

"OKAYYY, that's my queue to leave! Tong should be here around 2 PM so you can go home, Namaari." Sisu said, winking at Raya before grabbing her bag and walking out of the room.

Namaari's heart was beating faster, realizing she was alone with Raya. Her cheeks burning as if they were on fire. She turned to look at her and found she was already staring and smiling at her. "Was it a dream?" Raya asked again as she slowly sat up, clutching her chest.

"No, it wasn't a dream," Namaari whispered as she brought her hands down, looking at them.

Namaari was unsure how the next few hours would unveil. All she was certain of was:

She is sitting in a past patient's room.

She agreed to stay for hours.

She's highly attracted to this patient.

She thinks she's lost her dam mind.

--

I’m already working on the next chapter. It should be up in the next coming days. But realistically once I finish it; I’ll post it.

[nobodyfamousposts]

A Different Purrspective (Original Work)

“Human. There you are.”

Oh. It again. Or is it a her now, given the body it’s in?

To be honest, I hadn’t really cared much at the time about its sex—or if it even had one. I was a little too busy panicking over this thing that just one day up and decided to come after me because...

Actually, I never did get a clear understanding of its motivations. I was a bit too busy trying to protect myself from the FREAKING DEMON!

In my defense, I hadn’t known demons existed until that moment.

In its defense...

Well, it had none.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now.”

Sigh.

I forced myself away from my cozy nap time to look over at the one disrupting me.

It was...pretty, I suppose. Full cheeks. Long eyelashes. Hair was messy. Its clothing was disheveled. But otherwise it looked good. Something in me felt that a demon shouldn’t be so pretty.

I wasn’t bitter though.

Even if the body it was in used to be mine.

You know those horror movies with the main leads that have to deal with spirits and possession and body snatchers? Yeah. That was me then.

As to be expected in a horror movie, I lost the fight and the...whatever that thing was took my body. And trapped me in its former vessel.

So the orange tabby cat being spoken to on the front porch of a suburban street? Yeah. That’s me now.

The jerk couldn’t even get me in a female cat body.

Though given what I’ve since learned about cats, maybe that was for the best. Ugh.

“Do you have any idea what it took to find you?”

Huh. The weird thing was that it sounded offended. Not sure why it was supposed to be the wounded party here. I was the one whose body was stolen. By IT in the first place.

And then to add insult to injury, it took me to a shelter and left me there. Giving me an evil smirk and laughing all maniacally-like on the way out. Probably figuring I would be euthanized.

It hadn’t expected me to be adopted.

Ms. McGregor. A lovely old woman. She was pretty much the picture of the cat lady. And she took quite good care of me, all things considered. Fresh water. Good cat food. Some treats every so often.

Granted, it was a bit humiliating since I wasn’t supposed to be a cat, but after what had happened, I was willing to take what I could get and live out my days in relative peace and quiet.

...then this asshole had to show up.

“Human, we need to talk.”

Here we go.

“I...acknowledge that some mistakes have been made.”

Oh really?

“And we both have some regrets.”

The one thing I regret about being in a cat’s body right now is that I can’t roll my eyes.

I know it should be possible. I’ve seen the cat videos. But I just...haven’t worked out how to do it myself.

“I...may have been a bit...hasty. In my previous actions.”

You said you’d stalked me for weeks to learn about my life before attacking me and pulling a Freaky Friday. That requires a bit more forethought than you’re giving yourself credit for.

“I was just excited for the chance to experience life as a human.”

Uh huh.

“It was only going to be for a while.”

Ignoring that from what you had gloated at the time, ‘a while’ was going to be however many kitty years I had left. And considering how old this body was when I was forced into it...

“Just...long enough to get the ‘human experience’, you know?”

Guess the ‘experience’ isn’t working out for you, huh?

“But all good things have to end.”

Good for who?

“So I was thinking...” It trailed off, as if expecting me to finish the thought for it.

It waited, watching me long enough for this to get uncomfortable. Then it sighed.

“Perhaps we should switch back?” It asked, trying not to appear too eager.

It was failing. Horribly. But it was trying.

“You can go back to your life and family.” It continued, as if it was trying to sweeten the offer.

It was an offer though. And one I hadn’t expected to get this soon.

Or ever.

But what I expected even less was my own disinterest.

I mean...sure, the entire thing was terrifying when it was happening and I had no idea what was going on. And humiliating to no longer be human afterwards. But it’s been...what. Two months? Three? And so far, things have been pretty good for me.

Yeah, I’ll pass.

“Come on now!” It insisted “Don’t you want to be human again?”

...was it serious?

“You would get to go back to your fulfilling job.”

You mean the 60+ hour work week with no breaks, no paid vacation, and shitty benefits?

“See your family again. Spend time with your siblings and their kids.”

My self-important and egotistical siblings. With their horrible, horrible kids. And their untrained dog.

“And you can return to having a normal life in a healthy human body.”

My most recent labs read some issues. I had gingivitis and a cavity at my last dental exam. And my appointment for operations on those matters both happened to be after my body got snatched.

How did that go, by the way?

It tensed, fists clenching.

“I think I was a bit...unfair. And I would like to rectify that and switch us back.” It bit out. I think its eyes even flashed.

It was the period pain, wasn’t it?

“How do you LIVE with that?!” It shouted, furious and possibly somewhat embarrassed given the red tinge to its face.

Huh. I didn’t know I could turn that color.

“Look, this works out for both of us.” It insisted, gesturing at me. “You can go back to your life and I can go back to not dealing with your life!”

Wow, you make my life sound so grand when you put it that way...

“Really?” It asked, hopefully.

No.

It groaned, running a hand through its hair.

Wow. It doesn’t look washed. Have you not been taking care of my body? That was one of the few things you said I wouldn’t have to worry about after you left me to rot.

“It’s harder than it looked, okay?”

How do you not know how to take care of a human body?

“Hey, even you humans need years of training on how to properly manage yourselves!” It hissed.

Well, sucks to be you, I guess. As a cat, I can just lick myself clean and not have to worry about appearances.

Its nose turned up in disgust.

“How are you okay with this?!”

Well, it sucked when it happened. But you know, we humans are pretty adaptable. Horror movies end after the credits, but odds are that we would just sort of have to get used to it sooner or later.

Did you think I’d just be screaming in horror within my kitty mind forever?

It paused.

“Maybe?”

Wow. That totally makes me want to help you.

“What? No!” It insisted. “I’m trying to help YOU here!”

And how is this helping me?

It...actually seemed to fumble for a moment.

“Aren’t you sick of eating raw meat and cat food? Isn’t it disgusting?”

Eh, it was hard to get used to at first, I’ll admit. But the nice thing about being a cat is that taste isn’t one of the senses high up on the scale of priority. I’ve only got like...a few hundred taste buds now compared to the thousands I had before, so it doesn’t really bother me. I do miss tasting sweet things though. But at least it means I don’t have to worry so much about how bad things taste.

“Aren’t you tired of having to hunt for food? I’ve seen you going after rats and bugs. Clearly you must be starving.”

Nope, the lady here feeds me pretty well. I just take out the mice to help her out.

It wilted. “But...the bugs?”

It’s actually kind of fun to hunt bugs. And they have this nice little crunch to them—

“Okay, okay, okay!” It interrupted quickly.

Was it was because it was grossed out by the conversation or because it secretly liked those things as well?

“Don’t. Just...don’t remind me.”

Huh, how strange for a demon. Honestly, it had been a cat, at least for a little while. It should know these things.

For that matter, it should also know more about humans in general and my life in particular if it had been following me for months.

“Look, let’s just switch back.” It implored. “I’ll stay in kitty form. You can go home and do...whatever with your life.”

I could.

“You can.”

But this is actually the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation in...like...years.

“You can’t be serious.”

YEARS.

“Listen to me you little shit!” It hissed out, its features turning significantly more sinister and...wow. Stop. I don’t think my face is supposed to look like that! “You are going to switch back with me or so help me—”

You’re supposed to be the powerful demon here. You stole my body before. If you really hate it so much, why don’t you just switch us again?

A pause followed. An unsettling long pause.

“I...can’t.” It muttered, unhappily.

Wait.

What?

“I took it by force. Which we can do.” It shrugged. “But no one’s ever just...switched back before! Not without permission.”

Sooo...you need my permission?

“Yes.”

Huh.

Maybe you should have thought of that BEFORE you stole my body, you creep.

“Oh come on!” It shouted. “Please! I can’t take this anymore. Your job is impossible, your family is insufferable, and this body keeps doing...things I don’t like to think about.”

Yeah, it does that.

“What would it take to switch back?” It demanded. “I can’t take it anymore!”

I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic to your needs right now.

“Do you want me to apologize? I’ll apologize!”

Would it be sincere? Or would it just be a manipulation tactic?

It hesitated.

Right. Enough said.

“It could be both!” It insisted.

And we’re done. Excuse me, I think I’ll be going back to my nap now.

“You know,” It said with a dark tone. “I could just kill your family. Then you’d go to prison. How would you like that?”

Hah. Good luck. Before I met you, I was still convinced they were hellspawn themselves.

Not to say that meeting you has actually changed that belief, to be honest. If even you can’t stand them, what does that say?

“I could kill them all and make it look like an accident. So you wouldn’t get in trouble when you returned.” It suggested instead and...wow...was it trying to bribe me now?

Pass.

Knowing them, they’d be worse than any demon. And would take you out before you could do them in.

Nice try, though.

It glared fiercely at me but said nothing further. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was pouting.

Human expressions are one thing I miss. I’d be doing a long sigh right now.

Look.

You’ve lived my life for all of two months and already you can’t hack it. Imagine dealing with that...all of that. For year after year on end. Going to work at a high stress and low reward job. Dealing with people who look down on you regardless of how hard you work. Dealing with family members that either ignore you or act like they’re superior to you. Dealing with their rotten little children that they are incapable of disciplining even as they wreck your belongings for the sheer entertainment of it. Dealing with a body that’s slowly giving out on you regardless of what you do because you have to overwork it just to earn enough to keep it functioning.

And knowing that despite all the hardship, you still have another 30 plus years of that shit to go before you’ll get to enjoy...maybe 10 years of retirement before your body gives out?

Meanwhile, I have maybe another 10 years of kitty relaxation in this life.

Why would I want to give this up?

“Because you aren’t meant to be a cat!” It insisted.

I’m not. But somehow I am.

And whose fault is that?

It was...oh wow. I wasn’t imagining it! It was pouting.

Huh. Apparently it’s a demon that isn’t used to not getting its way.

And arguably, it was a good deal. Most horror movie leads would jump on a deal like this to “right the wrongs” done to them and return to their lives. Anyone would.

But would you look at the time? Gee, buddy. I’d love to help you out, but that sounds like an awful lot of work and there’s a nice patch of sunbeam that’s calling my name.

“Don’t you turn your back on me—”

And you may want to check yourself. People are starting to give you odd looks and you really don’t need folks to recognize you and question why you’re talking to yourself in public.

It glanced around nervously before lowering its voice. “You could try to help, you know!”

Well, I could. But y’know...cat.

It sputtered.

Clearly, it wasn't possible for cats to laugh. Otherwise I would be laughing myself to tears right now.

“I could disrupt this new little life of yours!” It hissed, turning to threats where pleas and bribes had failed. “The only reason you have it so good is because that old hag took pity on you.”

Let’s not forget that if you had your way, I’d have been euthanized by now and this would all be a moot point. So maybe you should be a little more grateful to that ”old hag”.

“So you do care about her.” It smirked. “But she’s old. Frail.”

It hummed, nonchalantly. Then it smirked, knowingly.

“She looks about ready to keel over at any day.”

And what good would it do you if she did? You need me to be willing, apparently, remember? I was already spiteful as hell when I was human. And everyone knows that cats are nothing but spite.

“We can see if you’d still have that attitude after a few months on the streets. After all, there’s always the chance she could have an...accident.”

Not a good idea. You have not seen that woman lug her purse around. I’m pretty sure that lady was a former heavyweight champion. She can carry four bags of cat food at once, she could probably bench press you while she’s at it.

And there’s no way I’d go back to a body after that.

It opened its mouth—my mouth?—into an expression of rage, and looked about ready to scream.

A loud noise cut it off before it could make a sound.

“There you are!”

Glancing over, it was the front door of the house. The screen door had been opened and on the other side stood a short old woman. Her hair was tied back into a bun. Her nose stuck out at a sharp angle, but it framed her wide if somewhat wrinkled face. She wore no glasses, but she was squinting so much that she looked like she could barely see.

That was her. My new “landlord”, so to speak.

“Jennifurr! Dinner’s ready!” 

It took a moment for the thing in my former body to realize she was talking to me. Cat me.

...oh. Did I mention that the Cat Lady had an awesome sense of humor?

Welp, that’s it then. Too bad, so sad. Looks like we’ll have to table this for another day. Maybe next year?

It gave a grunt of annoyance, but backed away. If nothing else, it wasn’t going to cause a scene here. More out of self preservation than anything. But it continued to glare at me, clearly indicating that this was not over.

I ignored it, going straight for the door as McGregor opened it to let me inside.

“There you are, dear! Everything all right?”

Eh, fine.

She placed a bowl with some cut up meat on the kitchen floor for me.

Oo. Chicken!

“Not too many pests, I hope.”

Only the one.

She continued making conversation as she milled about the kitchen. She does that often. Sometimes it even feels like she hears me.

I wasn’t lying. Not entirely, at least.

I miss being human. Parts of it, at least. The internet was great. I miss having hands that can type. And opposable thumbs. I miss my full taste buds. Some other things I can’t be bothered to think of right now.

But getting away from life does kind of help to put things in perspective.

I’ll go back though...eventually. Maybe.

What was that one meme? It seemed most fitting here.

Nope. I don’t wanna adult today.

Today, I will cat.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Till The Sun Is in the Sky Fanfic

Title: Till The Sun is in the Sky Fanfic

Summary: Roman is a genie who has granted wishes for over a millennia. The only reason he’d be eager to serve his next master is for a chance to briefly escape the lamp’s darkness. Not for a chance at freedom--for that’s just wishful thinking and he knows what that all entails.

Or at least that’s his assumption until he meets Patton, the newest master of his lamp.

Pairing: platonic royality

Word-Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Crying, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

This set in the same ‘verse as When the Blazing Sun Is Gone but you don’t need to read that fic to understand this one. @delimeful requested seeing Roman’s/Logan’s role in the AU as part of my follower milestone celebration and so I went with Roman. Also huge thanks to @stillebesat who beta-read two different drafts of this fic and offered valuable input, I appreciate it! <3

-

He didn't know how long it had been since his last Master had thrown the lamp into the sea. It didn't matter really. Minutes, years, centuries...it didn't. Because he knew his next master would be the same as the last six hundred. Selfish, full of empty promises of freedom that never came to pass. 

No, the only reason why he would ever be eager to come out of the lamp to serve his six hundredth and one master would be for those precious moments to get out of the darkness.

Some of his more inquisitive masters would ask him what it felt like to have one’s soul crammed into a lamp.

He always laughed it off and made a joke about how it made for a great napping place.

But the truth was far from it. He knew it was silly, but he feared the darkness. He feared its loneliness, feared no one would ever find his lamp again and he’d be stuck there forever. 

He never told them how many times he uselessly fought against the magic barriers, hoping beyond hope to find a defect in the spell that bound him there. He didn’t tell them how much he feared them being the last master he ever had—not because they freed him but because his lamp never found another master to serve. Worse yet, his lamp shattering.

His soul was bound to the lamp and if it broke--then his soul would split into a thousand pieces along with it. Suffice to say, it was not a happy fate and not something happy to dwell on.

So he sang instead. His voice filling up the lamp, bouncing all around him. He could pretend someone was with him, that way, singing alongside him. He sang the few songs he knew and then some. He made up songs, even, about anything his mind could dwell on. He was halfway through singing about a gallant knight when a pair of hands made contact with the lamp.

 A new master; both relief and trepidation hit him at once. Relief that he’d be free from the darkness once more. Trepidation in knowing that it was only a fleeting temporary respite from it.

That was quite alright. After all, his new master was probably someone in great need of his assistance—they always were. The lamp magic sought out those who were plagued by horrible life circumstances. He would be the knight in shining armor to them, like he’d been to many others before.

For that was his true purpose in life and not freedom. That was just wishful thinking—and he knew all of what that entailed.

With a shroud of red mist, he rose up in front of his new master. All of which was entirely for the sheer dramatics of it. He enjoyed putting on a good show and the adrenaline that came along with it.

“Greetings!” He boomed, waving his arms around in a grand gesture, “I am a great and powerful genie—and I am here to make all your dreams come true!”

The human gawked at him, slack-jawed. His brown eyes bulged from behind his glasses, much like a cartoon character. There was a crack in one of the glasses’ lenses and upon closer look, the glasses appeared to be practically held together by tape. 

The man’s clothing appeared to be in a similar disheveled state—unraveling hems, holes in his shoes, scuff marks. The cardigan tied around his neck looked hardly wearable. Lying at the man’s feet was a blue backpack that the genie wouldn’t doubt contained all of his worldly belongings.

The lamp sought out the unfortunate and if there was one constant in any century, it was poverty.

“You’re…really a genie?” The human asked, pressing his eyebrows together.

“In the flesh.” The Genie winked.

He was well aware of what a fine specimen he was to behold. Flowing locks of russet hair, eyes that glimmered like emeralds, a voluptuous figure. Clothed in only the finest cloth that the eleventh century had to offer. Centuries of existence in the lamp had not diminished his beauty in the slightest.

If there was one thing he could take pleasure in, it was the awe humans gave him before they decided demanding for wishes. It usually lasted for only about five seconds. But during those five seconds, he could pretend that they were actually ecstatic to see him.

“What’s your name?”

He startled at those words.

“Pardon?” He asked, tilting his head backwards.

The last thing the Genie had been expecting, was those words to come out of his mouth. No one ever bothered to ask for his name. It was as though they assumed their wish-granting cosmic vending machine had no name. Or was indeed a living being with thoughts and feelings for that matter. They always started demanding rules and stipulations for their wishes as fast as they could.

“I’m sorry!” The human cried, wringing his hands together, “that was rude of me to ask without introducing myself first.”

He held out a hand, beaming, “I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“I…” He stared down at the man’s hand, “My name?”

“Oh,” Patton’s eyes widened, “do you not have a name?”

The Genie looked away. He did once have a name, long ago before he inhabited the lamp. He couldn’t remember it. A strained, lilted laugh broke from his lips, not assuaging Patton’s concerns in the slightest.

How could he forget his own name? Names were important—special. Names had power. Names were a person’s identity. How could he let that damn lamp take something so precious away from him? It’d already taken everything else away—what more could it take? 

“I can’t seem to recall it,” He shook his head, before desperately trying to change the subject, “But enough about my fabulous self! I’m here to grant you not one, not two, but three! Three wishes of immeasurable power! Say the magic word, and I’ll spin your dreams into reality.”

He expected Patton to forget the name nonsense entirely at the mention of wishes. Surely, the man had unfulfilled desires—everyone always possessed those. Instead, the man slowly shook his head.

“I can help you find a new name, if you’d like.” He offered, a smile softly framing his face.

The Genie blinked, “You wish to give me a new name?”

He could not make heads nor tails of this strange human. He scarcely knew Patton for a single minute, but his aura oozed nothing but positivity. Still, it was an odd waste of a wish, if you asked him. He’d hate to see someone so good and in need of his cosmic help squander a wish like that.

“No,” Patton said, laughing, “I want to help you find a new name.”

Patton sat down on the beach, the lamp by his side. The human looked up at him and patted the space next to him. Reluctantly, the Genie joined him.

“How does the name Daniel sound to you?” Patton asked.

Daniel. One of his more unpleasant masters went by that name. The genie made a face before shaking his head.

“That’s okay! What about Philip then?”

“Phiiiilip…” He drew out the consonants, testing how they felt against the roof of his mouth, “What do you think, dear Patton? Do I look like a Philip to you?”

“Well, you’re very princely-looking, and I’d say Philip is a very princely name!” The man giggled, “but as long as you love it—I’ll love it as well!”

The Genie hesitated. As much as he liked the name—it didn’t quite scream him. It didn’t encompass his whole being. Philip felt as tight and constraining as his lamp. The genie could lie and tell Patton he liked it just to move on from this whole naming business. His purpose here was supposed to be focused on the wish-bearer and not him, the wish-granter.

However, as he looked upon Patton’s earnest gaze he found himself unable to lie to him.

“I am afraid that I’m not entirely in love with the idea of Philip.” He admittedly with a great sigh.

“That’s alright! We just gotta keep trying then!” Patton declared, undeterred.

He continued listing off names, but none of them seemed to satisfy the Genie. The latter of whom grew despondent that they’d never find the perfect name. There were millions of names in the world, yet none of them appealed to him. He voiced this to Patton, who refused to give up hope that easily and urged him to keep trying.

“Hmm…oh! What about Roman?” Patton asked, “I knew a guy back in high school named Roman. He did theatre.”

Something sparked within the hollow cavity of the Genie’s chest.

“Theatre? As in acting out a story in front of an audience?” The Genie asked, his eyes lit bright with wonder.

He’d never seen a play before. His masters never bothered taking him to events like that. Instead he’d remain in their household, his lamp sitting on a shelf or hidden in a cabinet. Like a jar of quarters to use on a rainy day. He could only manifest within twenty-five yards around his lamp, leaving him unable to sneak off and enjoy something like a theatre show.

But what little he heard of them reminded him greatly of the bards of his time. They used to travel all over, singing sweetly in poetic verse of great heroes and terrifying monsters. He’d always loved watching a bard perform. He almost ran off and became a bard himself before he ended up stuck inside the lamp.

“Yup! He played Lumiere in our production of Beauty and the Beast.”

The names of the character and story were unfamiliar to him. But the Genie could tell by Patton’s phrasing that it had been an important role.

“Roo-man,” He tried, liking how it sounded on his lips, “Roman, Roman, Romaaaaaaaaaaan!”

Patton giggled as the Genie held out the name for as long as he could.

Roman. It was bold, it was brash, it was perfect. Not too snug, not too loose—it fit him just right.

“Well then,” He said, clearing his throat, “I’d be honored to go by the name of such a great bard!”

“I’m happy to hear that!” Patton beamed, “We should go celebrate!”

The human stood up, stuffing the lamp into his backpack in the process. He offered a hand towards the Genie—or rather Roman.

“Celebrate?” Roman questioned, as he accepted Patton’s hand, “Don’t you want your three wishes—"

“That can wait for later,” Patton said as he pulled Roman onto his feet with ease, “what’s important right now is celebrating your new name—with ice cream! I know just the place!”

“Forgive me for asking, but what is ice cream?”

“You don’t know what ice cream is?” Patton gasped, a determined look settling onto his features, “we’ll definitely have to fix that!”

He took hold of Roman’s hand—and marched towards the direction of the ice cream stand. Roman, bemused by the human, laughed as he allowed himself to be tugged along by Patton. He didn’t know why Patton was so concerned about his wellbeing but he found it a nice change from the norm.

Patton chattered along the way, mainly about ice cream and puns relating to the icy dessert and to other things.

“What did the popsicle say to his sonsicle in a crowd?” Patton asked, already snickering at his own joke.

“What?”

“He said, stick with me kid!” Patton burst into a fit of giggles, and Roman followed suit. Admittedly a lot of the contextual humor of Patton’s puns were lost on him but there was something contagious about Patton’s cheery disposition. You couldn’t help but want to laugh along and feel about a bit of that happiness glow in your lungs. 

For those brief seconds of laughter, Roman felt human again. He’d have to treasure this feeling--coveting it once he inevitably ended up in the darkness of the lamp once more.

The sun set in the horizon as they reached their destination; a brilliant splash of crimson red with streaks of golden orange and lilac purple. There were a few customers already in line at the ice cream stand. Cheery music blared. Where, Roman had no clue. He could not see a band nearby. Perhaps it was magic?

“Hey um,” Patton said, ducking his head a bit, “mind if we split a bowl? I’ll let you pick out the flavor. You should go with vanilla—it’s a classic! But, uh you can get whatever you’d like!”

“Patton…” Roman frowned, “I could wish into existence a whole ice cream shop of your own if you truly wanted it. You don’t have to waste money on me.”

“No, I don’t have to,” Patton said with a determined glint in his eyes, “But I want to.”

Roman gawked at him, stunned. What was this human? People normally expected genies to do things for them, not the other way around! When it came time to order, Roman merely pointed to the vanilla as Patton had suggested.

There were tables set up next to the ice cream stand where customers could consume their ice cream. But Patton shook his head, telling Roman he knew a much better place.

“It’s a place my friend Virgil and I like to visit,” Patton said, “It’s nice and quiet, unlike most of the city. The noise can be too much sometimes, y’know?”

This peaceful location happened to be a bench in the middle of a park. Trees gracefully arched over it, dressed in the beginnings of autumn colors. Orange, yellow, red. A warm glowing yellow light emanated from the lamppost beside the bench. 

“You can have the first taste of the ice cream,” Patton told him as they settled onto the bench. Roman obliged him, dipping his spoon a little in the white substance and bringing it to his mouth. He blinked. It was colder than he expected. But not unpleasantly so. It was a smooth, sweet texture.

“What do you think?” Patton asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

“It’s--it’s absolutely divine!” Roman exclaimed, his eyes flickered down to the ice cream, “May I…?”

“Of course!” Patton grinned. Roman took another spoonful, savoring the taste longer this time. They took turns finishing it off as they continued to converse.

Roman wasn’t used to talking. Sure, he talked plenty over the centuries, but his conversations with his masters revolved strictly around wish-granting. Mundane conversations about the weather were anything but mundane to the genie. 

“What’s your favorite animal?” Patton asked, swinging his legs back and forth in a careless manner.

“Dogs—they are lovable, loyal creatures and mankind is undeserving of their affections.” Roman declared.

“Dogs are my favorite too!” Patton giggled, “Oh! And so are cats, horses, lizards, lions and tigers and bears—oh my! Elephants, giraffes, hippos—”

“So all of them are your favorite, I take it?”

“I guess you could say that,” Patton sheepishly grinned, “I wanted to be a veterinarian be—before—”

The human inhaled shakily, the smile slipping off his face. Instead of continuing, he stared down into the mostly empty plastic ice cream bowl. Something obviously happened in Patton’s past that upset him. It wasn’t Roman’s place to pry—but it didn’t mean he couldn’t help in the only way he knew best; magic. In all his centuries as a genie, he’s never met anyone deserving of it than Patton.

The man had been the first in a long while to treat Roman like his thoughts and feelings actually mattered. Like the genie was actually...human. 

“You could still be a veterinarian, if you so badly wished,” Roman spoke softly, “Your every wish is my command.”

Patton flinched, looking more distressed than comforted by Roman’s words.

“Roman please, I can’t do that—”

“Why not?” Roman said, “you are my master—you can make any wish you’ve ever desired.”

“Roman, I’m not your master.” Patton choked.

“Of course you are,” Roman tilted his head, “you are the keeper of my lamp. What else would you be?”

“A friend?” Patton suggested, “Roman, please I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“This is different,” Roman said fervently, grasping hold of Patton’s hands, “this I offer to you freely for you are the most worthy keeper of my lamp. You must have unfulfilled desires, something, anything I can grant.”

Patton stared at Roman, his face void of expression. Several times he opened his mouth before abruptly closing it. As if thinking better of what he was about to say. 

“Please.” Roman pressed further.

His heart rattled against his chest, wanting badly to escape its cage as he did with his lamp. Like the latter, it was a pointless venture. As long as his lamp remained intact so would his soul. Unless of course it shattered, and with it his soul into a thousand pieces. His psyche splintered and fractured, too broken to put back together again. Like Humpty Dumpty except worse for it was a living death, one inescapable. Yet it was a fate that was inevitable and also something he shouldn’t be dwelling on at the moment.

“There is…” Patton hesitated, “one desire I have.” 

“Say it,” Roman said as he bowed his head, not daring to look at the human, “Speak it into existence and it shall be yours.”

It was going to hurt, he knew this. The genie wasn’t the true wish-granter, all the magic they possessed came from the lamp itself. The magic only used his form as a mere conduit. Because that was all a genie was—a damn puppet to his masters’ wills.

Roman brought this curse upon himself—he wanted immeasurable power and he attained it. Except, it was never his will to wield such power. Nay, only his masters possessed it. Only their wishes and not his would be granted. It’d be this way forever and ever, because everyone always cared about their happy endings and not his own.

Even Patton, once he saw the immeasurable power that surged forth from even the simplest of wishes. Roman wouldn’t blame him for it. The human has already given him more than what he’s ever deserved. 

Patton squeezed Roman’s hands. It took every ounce of Roman’s willpower not to sneak a glance up at him. He had to remain strong for whatever wish Patton threw at him. In the short time he’d spent with Patton, he didn’t get off the vibe of a frivolous wisher. He dealt with plenty of those over the years. Ones who used the wishes in willy-nilly ways, without any forethought behind them. 

No, he’d probably be practical. He’d wish for money, or perhaps a mistake in the past to be reversed. Those were always tricky ones. They didn’t always end in the way humans believed they would.

“Roman,” Patton began, “I wish to free you, the genie, from your lamp.”

The genie leapt off the bench as if electrocuted, hands clumsily detangling themselves from Patton’s own. The lamp’s magic roared in his ears, swelling inside him like a great storm. He gaped at the human, his heart bursting out of his chest and into his throat.

“P-patton, mind repeating that?” He gasped.

“I wish to free you the genie from your lamp.” Patton said once more, his voice firm and unbreaking.

This time he couldn’t hold off the wish. A bright red light enveloped him like a supernova explosion. Magic consumed him, rippling through every fiber of his being. A warmth fell across him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. A great shattering noise occurred. The light died down as he looked to see the lamp had spilled out of Patton’s pack, glittering underneath the lamppost, in pieces. 

Breath heaving, he fell to his knees, touching the pieces. The lamp had broken and he was still here, whole and complete and free.

“Why?” He stared down at the broken lamp, quivering, “I--I don’t understand. You had three wishes. You could’ve had so much—all the wealth and fame you could ever desire!”

“But I didn’t want that,” Patton protested, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder, “not if it came from a wish you were involuntarily bound to serve no matter what. That isn’t fair. Everyone deserves the freedom of choice. Including you.”

Roman laughed. Except it wasn’t quite a laugh. More of a strangled, gargled croak than anything else. He pressed his hands into his face, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the dizzying nausea sweeping through him.

After six-hundred masters and a millennia inside the lamp, Roman knew a lot about the freedom of choice. His masters employed it with how they chose to use his wishes. Flaunting it so arrogantly in his face. The wishes were self-serving for most. Sometimes they used it to better others’ situations. But never his own, despite many promising to free him. Because at the end of that third wish, they’d walk away while he’d once more get trapped inside the lamp.

Over and over again, they chose to not free him. Except Patton. He chose to free Roman on his very first wish. For as long as he’d dreamt of this moment, of being free from the lamp, he never expected it to actually happen. It was just a foolish fantasy, too abstract to become reality. Not to mention in this manner. He had imagined a master would free him after he’d proven himself worthy with a great feat of magic. How could Patton think he was deserving of this gift?

He laughed weirdly again. This time it hurt his vocal chords.

“Roman?” Patton asked.

He responded with a noise, halfway resembling a hiccup and a shriek. A gentle set of arms enveloped him, pulling him closer until his forehead rested against a warm chest. A hug? Was Patton hugging him? 

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Patton murmured, ruffling a hand through his hair, “let it all out.”

Kiddo. Roman wanted to snort. He was a millennia older than Patton, he wasn’t exactly a child. Except at those words, he bawled like one as he realized that those were sobs from before. Not laughter. Roman couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Just like he couldn’t remember a time before being a genie.

Who was he, without the lamp? For as much as he hated it, it’d been a part of him. It defined him and the purpose of his existence. Now he was free of it, free to be his own person, with his own wishes and desires. But he didn’t know the first step of what that looked like.

 It was like he was thrown into a raging ocean of confusion and turmoil. Treading aimlessly, desperately hoping for a piece of driftwood to grab a hold on. Something that could anchor him, keep him afloat. 

“P-patton--” He whispers, voice hoarse from crying, “can I--can I choose to be your friend?”

The human had suggested it earlier. Surely, he meant it still? It was quiet for a few seconds. Enough to cause Roman to doubt himself. But then the man who unbelievably granted him his freedom hugged him tighter.

“Of course, Roman,” Patton told him, “I’d be honored.”

With a sniffle, Roman’s hands fell from his face as he threw his arms around Patton to fiercely return the embrace. A few more ugly sobs wracked his throat. How was it that Patton was the one honored to be his friend when it was the opposite? 

Roman hardly knew what being free looked like. But he did know he’d do anything to protect Patton, to preserve this kind, selfless spark that rested in the human’s soul.

As he dwelt encircled by Patton’s loving arms, the last slivers of the sun’s glow faded at last, dousing them in darkness. But for once, he didn’t find himself afraid of it.

[sugoi-writes]

Bakugo’s s/o gets him ear plugs and they aren’t bothered by his temper and ask him would he like to be deaf and not to be able to hear things. Like their voice his voice anyone! Bakugo knows their right and starts to wear them

I’m going to get cavities, dammit!  Thank you for this, this is adorable guodgdou please enjoy! 

Bakugou meeting up with you like this wasn’t unusual. In fact, spontaneous dates usually were for the best. Bakugou’s schedule was subject to change at the drop of the a hat, especially if he could squeeze in some training between patrols and missions.

He was zoning out, lazily sipping on some water. Before long, he caught your silhouette out of the corner of his eye, and straightened up at the sight of something in your hands. What the fuck was that?

Immediately, Bakugou’s mind started to wonder. Not that it was a big deal, but... did he miss something? Was it someone’s birthday; your birthday? Was this a cheesy anniversary date? Was the restaurant doing some weird event? It wasn’t White Day, was it--???

“Hey!” you chime happily, taking your seat across from Bakugou, who looked visibly confused and flustered,” ‘You okay? You’re not looking so hot.” 

Bakugou’s brow twitches at the horrible joke, forcing you to choke back your laughter as he finally relaxed,” I’m fine, I’m fine. But I wanna know what the fuck that’s about,” he retorts bluntly, pointing to a small, sleek package in your hands. You smile, giving it a little shake,” Oh this? It’s for you,” you say casually, setting it on the table before sliding it his way,” Here. Go ahead and open it.”

Bakugou gives you an inquisitive glare, narrowing his eyes at you as he gingerly takes it,” I don’t like that tone you’ve got there...,” Bakugou grumbles, a small flush rising to his cheeks,” What’s the special occasion, anyway? It’s not our anniversary or anything...”

You continue to smile, resting your chin on your hands as you place your elbows on the table,” Oh trust me, I know you wouldn’t forget about that. But... I had some left over money from this pay period, and... I wanted to get you something. Something you’ve needed for a while.” Bakugou seems to accept this answer, even if he doesn’t like receiving gifts. 

This was fine, he’d suppose... but why chose a noisy ramen joint to give it to him? You could have just given it to him at home after work or--

His train of thought completely stops, as he feels a feverish, red tint ghost his ears and most of his face. Are those...?

“Ear protection,” you say, finishing his thoughts,” Because you need it.” Bakugou blinks, stupefied for a moment. And then, he clamps his fists, glancing away from you,” Why’d you waste your money on shit like that? I don’t like handouts, especially ones I don’t need.” 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Bakugou just had a hard time processing his thoughts,” You do need them, dumbass,” you fire back, grinning,” Besides... how many years have you been training with such a powerful quirk like that? It’s enough to hurt yourself, as well as the villains you chase down day after day.” 

Bakugou scoffs softly, not wanting to give you an inch of gratification,” Yeah yeah, I train my ass off to make sure I don’t hurt myself. I have all of the gear and experience I need. You shouldn’t waste your money on auxiliary crap. Especially some wireless earbuds.”

“These aren’t just some regular music earbuds, Katsuki,” you interject,” These are specialized, noise-cancelling ear buds. They cancel out a lot of the volume and impact from a high-noise environment. You could wear these bad boys on a flight line, or at a gun range.” 

You lean back in your chair, watching Bakugou’s face contort incredulously,” ...And... if you would believe it, your quirk is pretty explosive and loud. Almost as bad as a jet liner taking off.” Bakugou is receptive to what you’re saying now, and listens as you go on (albeit, he didn’t care for the sass).

“I actually did some research on this, y’know. You’ve told me before that you’ve experienced ringing in your ears after training and fighting, right? And sometimes even outside of that? That’s tinnitus. And while that isn’t a direct link to hearing loss... it can get worse over time, and be triggered by loud events, head injuries; all that kind of stuff. And you go through all kinds of stress and trauma just doing your day-to-day routine.” 

You reach across the table,” I’m not going to lie to you... I’m... worried about you, Katsuki,” you say honestly, taking his hand. Bakugou doesn’t pull away from your touch, looking to you intently. 

“There’s only a certain threshold that we should be exposed to daily, before hearing loss can set in. And... even for a guy like you, that threshold is constantly exploited by your own quirk. And I just thought... you’d like the chance to start being safe sooner, and protect what you have left.” 

Bakugou looks away, shrugging,” I have pretty extraordinary hearing,” he pipes up, grumbling,” Even my doctor says that I can withstand some pretty insane stuff. My threshold is way higher than the average person. Especially someone who’s quirkless.” Bakugou grits his teeth, a certain knucklehead coming to mind. 

“Would you want to risk not hearing my voice for the rest of your life?” 

Bakugou’s attention snaps back to you, the impact of your words hitting him like a brick wall,” If you aren’t careful, you won’t hear a thing. Me, your parents, Kirishima and the others... you would only be able to feel what your explosions do. And while a lot of people can get along just fine like that, or even born that way... I know that deep down, it’s a risk you’d never want to take.” 

You let go of his hand, leaning back and sitting properly in your seat,” ...so why don’t you try them on at least? You may be surprised by how much you like them. And beyond getting some good food...I figured this would be the best place to test them out.” 

Bakugou is a little startled with how firm you were with him... but it’s an assertiveness that he can respect. And, at the end of the day, you still bought him something. Even if you bought him a pet rock, he would keep it on his night stand and never let it out of his sight (don’t you dare tell anyone that). 

“Okay, okay--! Tch... I’ll try them on, if it makes you that happy,” he spits, practically tearing the ear pieces out of their packaging. They did look nice... they were solid black, with a bit of orange trim. Dammit... these were probably custom, weren’t they? He gives you another glare, which was probably deserved, before he puts in the custom buds. 

Immediately, the restaurant becomes... muffled. Almost too muffled. He can hear you talking to him, but nothing above a whisper, and starts to look around. He can see mouths moving, people laughing, but can barely hear a lick of it. He looks back to you, before taking one of them out,” ...alright... so they work. Big deal.” 

You smile, satisfied, as you continue,” Weeeell, that’s not all~ These buds have the capabilities to be synced with a smart device, so... you can use them as a communicator, for music, AND ear protection. There’s also adjustable levels, so if you don’t like how much that one cuts out, you can always tweak it. It comes with different little rings too, to better fit your ear canal--” 

“Shut up,” Bakugou says, putting a hand up to you. He looks away quickly, his face still intensely red,” Th-They’re... they’re fine on their own, okay... this... was actually really thoughtful, Y/N.” You smile despite the slightly harsh treatment, knowing that Bakugou just hated to get flustered in public. 

Bakugou gently places the earbuds back in the packaging, before standing up. You’re a little startled by this, afraid that he was finally gonna ‘kick your ass’ like he always claimed. However, he just leans across the table, giving your hair a gentle ruffle.He follows this up with a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“...I guess I owe you one... dammit... Thanks. Thank you, really... This gift really is something special,” Katsuki says, his tone straining to be even. You knows he’s usually never good with thank you’s, but this has GOT to be the best one you’ve received yet! 

You could only smile as you reached across the table, grasping his hands,” No problem, Katsuki~ I’m just glad you came around to them~”

A voice clears beside you, forcing you and Bakugou to look to your right. A waiter has come by, looking to you both expectantly,” Would you like a few moments, or can I get something started for you tonight?” 

Bakugou scoffs, tearing his hands away as he glances over towards you,” ...I know what I want. Put whatever we get on my tab. And a drink, for my date, while they decide what to get,” he bites back. 

The waiter rolls his eyes, takes your drink order, and leaves to retrieve it. You give Bakugou a look, telling him that he needs to work on his tone. Bakugou mimics your expression, huffing,” I get it, I get it... I’ll try to be a little... nicer... this time...” He grumbled under his breath how the two of you were interrupted, but didn’t press the issue further. He bumps your leg with his knee, looking back to you softly,” But I am serious about tonight, y’know. Get whatever you want; I don’t care. I’ll pay for whatever you get.” 

You reach across the table once more, grabbing Baku’s hand before planting a kiss to his calloused knuckles,” Well, I appreciate that~ Thank you, Bakugou~” you chime, smiling at him. Bakugou can only scoff once more, grumbling gently,” Y-You’re welcome... anything for you, babe.” 

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I’m crying in the club, thank you for the prompt gidugdiydgid

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 20.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

DOUBLE UPDATE FOR A WEEK Y’ALL! MWAH MWAH! PLEASE DO LEAVE A FEEDBACK BEFORE YOU GO---OR MAYBE A REBLOG WILL BE NICE FOR MY EFFORT. Hehehe. Thank y’all!

CHAPTER 20

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sometimes other people's stories were actually not just a tale of fantasies when the protagonist in the story can't even give you an answer to soothe your insecurity, curiosity and fear over being alone in a dimension you didn't belong in.

Warnings: Soft, touchy and caring Geralt. Insecure and anxious reader. Brooding witcher. Baths with the witcher? Mention of Yennefer. Nudity. Angst. Geralt being too blunt and saying...things. Heh. Don't hate him later please? 😥😘 Mention of Parallel Universe. Doppelganger. Ingrith is just a character I made up, alright? she ain't a part of Yennefer's story in the games, books or show. 

Words: 7.6k

A/N: So, Yeap. I wanted to leave ya with all these angst. Hehehe. COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! MWAH! *waits for comments about people cursing Geralt lmao 😂😂* @casualfansoul​​ You’ve been such a sweetheart! BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE! I hope you’ll love this chapter dedicated to you! Mwah! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Will you tell me why you are utterly cranky all of a sudden?"

Face to face with the rim of the wooden bath, you've had your knotted brows in a twist. Pout oh-so-long that Geralt knew as he sat behind you, seeking answers for your upset state. He'd gotten you out of your clothes; forcefully must you say. Earning a glare from him as he was peeling your clothes away like he was caring for his sick, pouty child.

No complaints were accepted as he'd given you the idea to care for your wounds in the tub. Downright secretive about wanting to feel the comfort of your nudity grazing against his without any monkey business going on.

The witcher has received constant grumbles and whines of protests as he poured the potent medicine that evaporated through the fresh wounds; painful enough for you to shriek while his arm surrounding your waist tightened with every whimper of your sobbing self; shushing your cries with a soft coo of his endearment on your ear and the feathery nuzzle of his nose against that tiny spot behind your ear while he soothes your pains.

They've fully had injured your back with more than just wallops. He'd knew by the looks of the lesions, the people in the castle has even burnt your skin with metal; scorching metal that has given you scars that would forever haunt oneself. The mere thought tormenting him by their brutal punishments; keeping him all in wonder when he has never received any violent retorts and schemes from you as they did everything in their willpower to strike a hand. Your submission making the witcher glower behind as Geralt caught sight of such deep wounds whilst taking off the gauze; seeing blood seeping out of the healing skin as it was a sign that he really and badly needed to treat your body.

Sobs were emitted while he watched your wounds dry from the potion he'd mix, receiving kisses on the cold, sweating nape of yours every now and then. A gesture that Geralt started doing when you were shrieking in the midst of being poured by such elixir while you felt his breath on your skin. Sweetly kissing through your pain and lowly humming that you were going to be okay and you've been good.

It felt like all the energy downed on you after he'd stop and was done pouring the elixir everywhere around your body. The warm water lining on your chest turned colder when you've slowly leaned your back on Geralt, hissing from the soreness but actually ending up loving the warmth that he could only give while he kept his burly arm around you, your lips still in a pout while staring at the bed from the far corner of the room; basking in the witcher's silence before he asked.

His question gotten you unready for an honest answer as he bluntly shot the query out, planning to resolve the problem with you in the best way that he thought. Being forthright.

"Hmm." you hummed back in displeasure, sounding exactly the same like how he does.

The corner of his lips lifted in a small smirk, his voice vibrating at the back of your head and against his chest. The buzz keeping you calm and at ease rather than being alone in the castle when he haven't arrived yet. Your anxiety giving you such trauma that made you want to sob again.

But, Geralt's distraction to stifle your cries has technically been useful when he felt you sigh again, watching your face from above and behind to see a frown etching to grow. He heedlessly fetched a cup of water with the palm of his hand, delicately pouring your cheek with water as he gruffly quipped.

"That's my line. Not yours, Midget."

Geralt repeated his gestures with you, lightly damping your hair with water as he gently brushed your tousled wet hair with the spaces of his fingers, keeping them light and comforting which made you lean back a lot more, accepting his gentleness after being physically whacked in harsh moments prior before he came around---your purpose of being upset has now been forgotten by his unfamiliar gestures that was tickling your spine with ants racing on your skin because of how his actions was giving you cavity. A sweet tooth.

Just being held so softly felt good in real life---you didn't know how comforting it feels even back in earth, but right now was just the right time to feel how you would yearn for it when Geralt wouldn't be around.

"I told you, before I even realized that you were important to me was after you've made a wish to the Djinn."

Your swollen cheek fell on the skin of his biceps; sighing while you stared out of nowhere and finally held onto his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you still and steady in his arms. His nudity becoming not much of a problem for you now because it was an experience that you could never forget; eventually having the privilege in familiarizing his body just like how a lover does while he did the same to you.

Though, his imperfect beauty could still get you blushing nevertheless as he liked seeing yours no matter how insecure you get---but he seemed to admire your nakedness a lot which he received with a 'men versus boobs' explanation that his kind of gender would always love the idea of breasts no matter how big or small as the same goes for a vagina.

You'd received a pleased hum after that and also some horny witcher begging and trying his best to get your clothes off in his sneaky techniques.

"I know. I'm sorry I was cranky, Geralt."

The white wet-haired witcher pursed his lips, looking down at your face as you've felt his gaze heavy while he calmly spoke.

"It's...alright. But, must it be for Eanraig to see and hear?"

You've given him another sincere, sweet and soft apology. Caressing your thumb over the top of his scarred hand which was under the waters and he'd let you graze over the tiniest marks on his fingers and palms, swaying under the bath water. Breathing calm and collected while he stayed in bath with you; cherishing such moment again that could get his chest feeling the lightest out of all the times he lived in the continent; more freeing to than the one he had with a particular sorceress whom he had also been connected with; via Djinn.

His free hand lifted away from leaning onto the edge of the tub, reaching down to sweep your hair to the side. Clearing the space on your neck and such wounds from the shoulder blades, others being a scar from his potent medicine that he has poured.

"I remembered your skin clearly in the back of my head. Thoroughly silk like a bairn's bum,"

He paused, prolonging the silence as he gently danced his fingers on the skin of your shoulders; too tender that it began to lick your spine, igniting the tiniest shiver when you've felt the soft, warm feathery feeling of his lips giving your painted shoulder a peck of his specific comfort that he only gives to people who have turned his world a much better place than how much of a hell it has been.

"Now, you are scarred." Geralt grumbled against your skin, giving one last kiss and making everything all worth while as he was still around. Continuously denouncing what they've done to his family---even beating Jaskier to pulp.

"---They've...turned you like me,"

You've slightly turned your head to see his amber eyes withdrawn from reality. Thoughts probably plaguing his mind while he scowled. A simple purse of your lips, suggesting to receive a small, quick buss has Geralt dipping his head down to sweetly smack your lips to his, letting him feel that you were there; finally there with him physically and he didn't need to worry.

Thus, it was just like that. Geralt and his presence, including such soft gestures that you rarely receive nor see that he does for anyone and a soundly kiss has let the upset feelings go away, simply just like that.

Even though, he has never confessed any love yet---this was forging you both to understand what connection you have for each other. Though, clearly unspecific and undistinguished. Or was this his type of love? a love never needed to be told for it can be felt?

The question here, does he even love you? was this love?

Partially turning around in his arms to see him gazing back at you, Geralt seemed to be nonplussed and introverted with his thoughts. Keeping words to himself while he was giving you a solemn frown of his face, examining your swollen eye that you tried pulling him out of his regret and blames with a quirky tone of your voice; sounding like nothing has happened to you nor have you been battered to bruising limbs.

"When are you going to leave?"

"After I take care of you, midget." he deeply murmured, watching you like a hawk with golden eyes as the candle light was making his eyes glow prettier than usual. You grabbed a handful amount of water with your palms, arms sore as you reached up to pour water on his face that surely gotten a deep, complain of his humming when it made him close his eyes from the uninvited rainfalls of liquid.

The fading colored grime has been softly scrubbed off by the pad of your damp thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. His gaze was utmost heavy, shooting you a warm, loving sensation on your chest; surrounding the fading Cicatrix that somehow turned insipid after the nights before with the witcher.

You couldn't help but notice his grouching and grumpy self as he scanned your face with an affectionate flicker in his amber that made you tut. The gentleness you were giving was a thorough unfamiliar feeling he always received from you despite of your negative characteristics---though, he doesn't mind it at all---sometimes, he does but that was beyond the point when he felt comfort from you and aspire to give it back despite of not knowing what and how comfort is to a witcher.

"Stop being such a wild cat---Let me guess, you haven't gotten to have your nap again?"

Geralt huffed out a breath of complaint. A short, low growl that made you giggle quickly when you wiped his face with your fingers; playfully glaring at how you were bathing him.

"When did I ever?"

"It seems like you haven't had it last night again---Stop scowling like you want to strangle me," you lightly poked the dimples of his nose that got him deeply growling his protests. His expressions completely emotionless as he turned his face to avoid your play-time; considering on biting your fingers off to stop annoying the heck out of him.

Howbeit, Geralt went on in silently letting you touch his face. Mesmerized by how his scars really never affected his beauty and probably added perfection over his gorgeousness. The witcher mutely let you trace the bridge of his nose and the scars on his face whilst intently staring at your face in return.

"---Until you came along," he surprisingly continued the topic, never breaking his gaze as he'd seen you lean closer to his face. The tangy scent he was familiar in recognizing from you, mixing with the medicine on your skin. Yet, it didn't stop him to wait for what you had in mind. Your bruised, healing lips brushing against his that made both of your chests tingly for over such sweet intimacy that you've both eventually become accustomed with.

Geralt pursed his lips for your thirsts to calm down; such desperate feeling that both parties yearned for. A twee, syrupy connection of your lips on his---a kiss that made warmth spread through you like an angel's halo trying to make you holy and worth for his affections.

Men in your world will certainly not impress you anymore. Geralt of Rivia has raised the bars of what men should be---he'd ruined the normality of what you expected from such gender because you believed that they may not reach the level of what you've felt for him.

Love as you may see now.

But, it can be quite blurry of a picture for a future that you do not hold or knew how it'll be for the both of you because you've teleported as a miracle that nobody expected to receive.

"If I---If I die---" your pessimist self started to run your mouth over Geralt. Yet, he was quick to cut you off with a sullen chide and an avoidance of your gaze with a grumpy sigh.

"Stop. Don't." he groused with the mouth ends pulled down, "---You're not going to die,"

"What if I do?"

His eyes turned penetrating as if he wanted to tell how much you are wrong about that argument. Those cat-eyes of his; sharp and making a stand for the idea he didn't want to accept.

"I will never let that happen. They can have me hunt down whatever they want, even slice a throat of a nobleman or a monster but I will never let anything happen to you,"

The witcher gently scooped water with a palm of his hand, pouring them over your face. Coming forth with a scrub of it as he shoved his large palm that made you shriek against his hold while he lightly scoured your face as a gesture to clean you more inside the bath; avoiding your healing bruises.

"---I don't want to hear that again while I give you a bath,"

Darkness suddenly turned into seeing Geralt's stony stare after being suffocated by his hand that was suddenly shoved on your face, "I'm sorry," you immediately tried to woo over his vexation, your face wet from the bath water he tried to rinse you in, an involuntary response of your arms slipping around his bare waist shocked your consciousness because of how touchy-feely you've become around him.

The latter welcomed your apology and touches, humming in appeasement for your quick sorry; knowing your way with him and reading that he could not tolerate such physical-contact from you without liking the feel of your skin, you've leaned your body more to him---your naked chests flushed together that got him curling his lips in a small smile whilst feeling your forehead fall on the side of his neck, nuzzling with an apology.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you,"

Quietude embraced you both. Sitting in a tub. Entirely bare for each other to see but it was so wholesome for the betterment of your relationship with him; nurturing what understanding you both have for each other, not entirely specific nor knowing what it is. As a matter of fact, you do know what you felt for him, but not the other way around.

"She..She isn't a queen in my world,"

Bamboozle screamed inside his eyes for your statement, his fingers gliding along the small of your back under the waters as he hummed in curiosity.

"Hmm?"

You've remember the time that the queen has visited your cell. Retched between the hatch of the door came in view was your kind boss who wore the finest set of golden, silk, long gown with rich trimmings. She stopped by to check on your victimized state with a glaze of ignorance in her eyes. She didn't care for your condition because if so, she wouldn't have left the slammer with a quiet scoff.

Out of all the people who could turn out evil was a queen in Geralt's world and a boss you've highly given respect to.

Nonetheless, in this world; it seemed to be like the opposite personalities of how people had been in your world.

"Your queen. Queen Makeda. She's named Angela Cincinnati. The boss of mine who also works in the pizza parlor that I'm in,"

Geralt has leaned back on the edge of the tub in a relaxed posture, lifting his other hand every now and then to pour water on your hair that tickled your insides because of how cold the water has been already. His warmth being your therapy while thinking such hypothetical answers for what mysteries that the continent has been giving you. Jotting down possibilities that a typical earthling could try to guess like they were watching a very interesting movie.

"Does this mean I have someone who looks like me in this world too?" pause. "---Does she have a better life than me?"

Your witcher cocked his head to the side as he was in deep thought over the woman who looked like you. His mouth opening and closing for whatever shit he wanted to say because Savia has been the person who ruined your future by creating such crimes being pointed at you because you looked like her twin.

"Worse. I can say that you had a better life than her and also complicated yours at the same time," he gravely informed.

"My doppelganger then? have you already seen her?"

"Will you try to find her if I say yes?"

"No. I...don't wanna scare her with this drama movie I'm in."

You've leaned away from Geralt and his consoling cuddles, trying hard to rip your body away from him when all you wanted was to bask in his own embrace. Splashing your face with more bath water, he'd given you a curious glint of his eyes. Fixating his gaze on your bare form, subtly sliding his focus on the depths of your neck and wanting nothing more than to give more sweet busses of care. Geralt ignored the modern reference you've muttered about being in a movie and found it more interesting to appreciate the nudity you've freely have been giving him.

It's not like you were naked all the time. The witcher snickered to himself; appreciating the best view of you that he can ever get.

"The water's cold now. Are we done?" you softly whispered, the thought of your doppelganger out there; like a twin from another mother and dimension that you didn't expect to have. It was interesting to know, but frightening to actually see the real her because people like your doppelganger who lived in the medieval era might not be a great sight for the woman.

Geralt grabbed onto the end of the tub, whisking a thin, Ivory robe that was made of silk as he deeply grumbled, "Stand."

You've stood on your feet, hopping off the tub entirely dripping wet from the bath water; feeling eyes heavy on your body and raking over your nudity from behind. The heat started to rise up your face again, making you clear your throat when you've turned your body to grab onto the robe that Geralt has reached out for you. His keen peepers grabbing the chance to shamelessly rake your body in silence.

He'd received no refusal or a loud scolding after thinking it through that he had the liberty of doing so; also, the idea being a gift after trying to protect you from any harm and sacrificing over an endless hunt just for the Kaedwenians to cease their punishments.

"Hmm. A movie. I missed watching one. Though, It's not like if I ask you to go on a date with me again, Geralt---A movie date this time---watching a movie with you will never happen," you turned your head at your front, slipping your arms inside the short sleeves while tightening the knot around your waist; frowning when the witcher couldn't see your face. The truth beginning to bother you when problems began to rise and for such abrupt topic that lingered along your consciousness.

"---Because you and I both live in different worlds, it's like they collide."

Geralt kept his mouth hushed. The loud splash of water echoing around the room when he left the wooden tub; strolling behind to promenade past you. His stark-naked self never bothering him after the night you both had each other. Basking in more of his nudity especially when he slept; knowing that he was mentally complaining over how reserved he needed to be while you slept beside him, his clothes very uncomfortable because of the heat he was feeling.

Basically, he did not know the meaning of clothes after the night of ravish; constantly taking his slumbers in the nude as he covertly tried to wrench them off you as well with his witcher needs.

His bare back and derriere was displayed before you, the distinct foramen of his brawny back giving you a loud greeting as he grabbed onto his trousers on the end of the bed, lending his ear and slipping on his leather pants that was bursting through the seams because of his thick thunder thighs and curvacious derriere.

"My world and yours, they sound like a parallel universe that I completely don't understand even back in earth, it's too complicated to know---too scientific for my thriving brain,"

Quick panic-stricken questions were sent to the witcher; the motion of the words hasty and apprehensive because of such negative ideas forming inside your head; skyrocketing like a plague in your mind while Geralt wore his breeches, not trying to take cover in front of you.

You couldn't help but shift your eyes constantly at Geralt and the queen sized bed, his gigantic biceps straining along his movements while buttoning his pants; lowly grunting from each pull of the hem to fit his curvaceous, muscled arse that you couldn't help but clear your throat, forgetting what you needed to say for a second and being distracted over your trembling anxiety.

You eyes took heed of the opened windows where the brisk wind was slipping in a breeze, seeing how you could see the pale moon from afar. A guess telling you that the room was in a high place. In a few short strides, you've looked out of the window, peering up the Tartarean night sky to meet the moon in its full glory, finding no flaw that you were in a different planet and not yours.

Confusing and complicated to understand in your human perspective because nothing human was basically being shown as you lived in their world.

"This...This is your earth. Your continent. While my earth out there also exists without any one of you knowing. What if I have a count down while I stay in your world---what will happen to me---would I get to stay alive forever in this world when I have been too dependent over you?"

Heavy strides alarmed you for Geralt's presence who loomed behind your back. His mouth curled down when he has heard your questions; feeling no trust in between you both, hesitance scrambling your way and filling your heart when it hasn't been there before you even came to the castle. It was baffling him for your curiosity and determined self to seek answers when he has no answer to it at all.

The sorceress has probably told stuff to you, he silently thought as he brushed a hand over your arm and clothed shoulder. The roughness of his palm colliding against your bruised ones as he tries his best to provide what you needed; not knowing what because of how he does not understand this kind of relationship with women because it has always been typically greed, lust or a needed release to calm his overly mutations.

Except for you, Yennefer or Renfri because he actually really cares.

"Do you not want me to protect you?" he gravely mumbled behind, seeming to be slightly taking umbrage after hearing the queries.

"You're only doing this because you have no other choice just like how you've told the king that I was your betrothed when it isn't true at all,"

How sure were you to say that it wasn't true?

Reflecting and debating his thoughts over your judgement, Geralt marred an agonized frown that creased his forehead. He rarely does claim such label but he didn't regret the action after hearing how it made the king lessen the punishments for you; excluding all planned damnation. The witcher had no explanations about the moment he had called you his betrothed nor did he want whatever you were thinking about his actions.

Hence, it instantly made him cantankerous when he hasn't been feeling it before you opened that mouth of yours again.

"You think I have done it with a purpose I don't understand," he incoherently rumbled in his baritone timbre. Slightly pulling away from his own touch on yours to turn around and walk through the end of the bed to wear and grab onto his armor and under shirt, half naked with a straining back; all rigid and stressing under the skin.

"Geralt---"

"With the mishaps of my world and yours, if I ask you to stay; will you leave your kingdom?"

He'd turn his foot around to see him slip the under tunic over his head, the scowl prominent making him appear stony; dour and solemn. His eyes eager while it reflects the candle light on the side of the bed. Reading through the golden hues lay a pining greed that the witcher never knew he craves for; such hungering he does not know that he wanted to find and receive when it was his own faults over not having it because when he feels a deeper connection with someone, the white wolf suddenly becomes disfunctional; pushing her away because of not spitting the truth about his feelings.

He was capable of it; having feelings over another. Love as people may describe but he was in denial and can be reflective, the processing quite slower than usual because he had never received love through out his lifetime; not even a mother who actually cared.

No one.

You didn't understand him; what he really wanted to say or do because his words were spoken on a race track, passing through the chuckholes that could get you knowing what his true feelings were.

Was he letting you stay out of love or out of pity that you were lost, vulnerable and needed adoption?

"Do you believe in love, Geralt?" you've countered back, feeling the warmth spread around your chest for skipping around bushes over the real meaning behind your words; sounding like a confession if he was smart enough. The warmth spreading through like wildfire, scathing your skin as it felt like it was burning from the reality you were seeing.

"---Or are you only doing this because of the Djinn incident? you're only feeling this way for me because I came around while Yennefer isn't?"

The latter gave a grim frown upon the mention of her name. Just like how he always does when Jaskier says her name when it shouldn't been uttered. Now, it was your turn to give a grouch. Your feigned smile joyless when Geralt was unblinking from your unexpected argument.

Was this true love you have with him? Did he even feel the same way when he can't even say the word at all? or will you both hate each other until it grows into spite?

Will you eventually be killed by the hands of a man you love as said by Eanraig's understanding over the curse set between?

"I've heard from the sorceress that you have been finding Yennefer from her a month before I came along and that this connection I had with you also had been the same with that Vengerberg. What if she comes back around? what will happen to me?"

Ingrith has said more information than you can bear. You weren't just physically pained but also mentally as well for whatever bullcrap she wanted to address. Palms over your ears were the only solution to shut the truth off as it echoed around the dungeon. She'd smirked when you've whimpered from the stones, the back of your sweater drenched in blood for using hardened sticks which had pointy twigs; never believing what they were doing to you as they also tried to throughly kick your stomach.

The men who were ordered to do so had no idea why they've been commanded to batter your torso, but you knew it had something to be involved with the cunning sorceress because of how she'd given another dagger of her gaze lingering on your middle like you would magically grow a baby inside of it when it was impossible from the start because of Geralt's infertility.

The witcher was like a bomb about to detonate. Though, the explosion never came other than a tight clench of his jaw. Geralt was wearing a lour like a bad omen over being interrogated; debating over answering the confusing truth that left him debating over himself as well. He has never remembered the sorceress until you've mentioned her; remembering that he'd taken full measures to even try finding Yennefer's long lost cousin for a plan to get back with her and earning nothing in return.

"You're blathering complete nonsense, Midget. You've also been listening to Ingrith when I told you not to. She's cunning and will do anything to ruin you---kill you,"

Your mouth turned upside down; tighter and pensive for being swerved again, "You didn't answer my question." an exasperated huff was let out, "---she was once important to you. I've heard from your bard; you had adventures with her, shared powerful moments that are exactly the opposite of what we are having---she's the first woman you've loved. A powerful, independent lady that you will never regret having in your life because she can defend everyone---and I'm...just me,"

You didn't know what has gotten to you. The insecurities lighting up the sky, constantly reminding you that his existence can be a mere catch of your dreams because he was too good to be true---or jealousy infecting your blood into thinking that he would leave you alone when he never had yet?

Perhaps, it may be how proud Jaskier has told you that she was powerful that it has intimidated you. Her name seems to be beautiful and there was no doubt she was when he has been avoiding of hearing her name.

He had probably been devoted of Yennefer when a tight frown couldn't be erased upon the lips you have been kissing---thoughtlessly thinking that it was genuine or had any meaning to it.

"Really, what am I to you? "

"My home. Also equally important."

"More important than her? Do you dream of her?"

"You know I don't---not anymore."

Not anymore, he said. So, he does dream of her before.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your fingers went straight to the sleeves, anxiously rubbing over the silk against each other for the dreading beats of your heart, your eyes turning to look away as you quietly spoke; highly aware of an expected rejection.

"If I tell you what I really feel about you, will you give me an answer?" you softly spoke to the chilly air embracing your fidgety form.

"---Because then, you will know my answer about staying in this world you're in."

You've turned your head to see him wearing a permanent pucker of his brows, veiled with furrows of indifference and a look of betrayal. Your bluntness being a detriment because of giving an indefinite answer as well, avoiding his question and misunderstanding the sour expression on your face a while ago.

"Is it hate? Disgust?" he gruffly gnarled. His attitude turning colder like an executioner's ax, unaware of the slight wince on your face because of how glazed he appeared to be.

"---because I am highly aware of what people see of me. I am at loss for what Ingrith must've told; lies or what may result that I am seeing you look at me like I've cast the Djinn's curse on you when you have never looked at me like that at all,"

He spat those words with a sardonic drip of his tongue. The frown darkening his expression more than it ever was.

"Don't blame me on this one, Geralt. Don't shift my words like I think so lowly of you when you and I both don't know the real deal between us with the Djinn incident,"

Geralt loudly exhaled his breath through his nose, marching towards you with the face of an angry ape. Disbelieving what he was comprehending from you, saying that what you shared was beyond reality; like he has been told by it the second time. Your words inconspicuous of loudly saying that maybe what you were both feeling was magic after all; having the presence of the Djinn around  for another relationship that he was having.

"You don't want to stay," he ceased his footsteps, looming before you. His irritation suddenly intimidating like a bulldozer when you realized he was bigger than he could get if he was mad at whatever you've done; or probably it was just your point of view because you were feeling small over his blaring anger.

"---Isn't that what you wanted to say?" Geralt emphasized much clearer this time, drawling his words with a hopeful hint that he just misunderstood you and he was right.

"What---? I didn't even said that! Give me a reason to stay then! I am in shambles for your way of thinking right now!"

He had a wide-legged stance; leaning onto more of your personal space while his Aureate eyes deeply stared into yours. Volatile and blazing as it looked like a fixed glare, baring his teeth as it curled---his fangs slipping through as he bluntly spoke.

"You aren't being entirely forthright,"

You couldn't help but cross your arms tighter against your chest, shuffling on your feet as you mentally gasp from his retort. Defensive as his attitude was beginning to irritate you too.

"Well, you aren't being forthright too!"

Geralt huffed before you. Momentarily scoping out the ceilings before peering down and staring right back with blazing peepers. Though, the witcher has never raised his voice on you when you've did. But, you knew he was fuming; seething deep inside, "I don't know what's wrong with you." he gravely mumbled to himself, steaming up from your sudden, churlish attitude.

"---you're a cherub for a while then acting hostile the next. Is this your pathetic insecurity talking or you just hate me all of a sudden?"

Your eyes instantly went wide open and jaw falling slack at how he'd open his mouth. Raising a finger to his chest as you slightly backed away.

"You're calling my insecurity pathetic?" you uttered in disbelief, swallowing hard for having to hear him be this way---though, you knew he was capable of being such because of how blunt he was. But, he was never mean to you as much as calling your insecurity pathetic. Tight lips were given to the witcher who had his chest puffed out for his own frustrations and repulse.

"---Also, aren't you the one who said that maybe this whole thing is actually just the Djinn effects before you've even---! Even---!?" put his pickle in a jar. Wreck the punani. Ravished you in bed. Shared Netflix and Chill despite having no Netflix in their world.

You shook your head for stammering, quietly growling for the annoyance he'd given after basically taking care of you---expecting that it was done out of love, just like how you've first initially thought of staying forever by his side when he has asked you to stay in their world regardless of the consequences and disadvantages.

"What's next then? My anxiety is childish for you too? nonsense?" pause. "---You don't even know what I mean---and even have no idea about what feelings I was talking about. You can't even tell me what happened between you and Yennefer without disregarding my question or avoiding the topic---or even cut Jaskier off!"

Standing akimbo, you've narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin to the fullest because of his skyscraper height. The displeasure shown from how your nose was twisted and from how you couldn't control your mouth from taking a marathon.

"If I shut up and never question you about things anymore then it just means that I don't care for you at all when I do so badly. Do you know what this means to me? Nobody has plagued my mind so hard---no other man has filled my mind with crazed thoughts. In my world, this means that I---"

Geralt immediately cut you off. His teeth bared and jaw set as he interrupted you out of the blue, catching you off guard.

"It must be for the better then," he rasped, clearly disgruntled for what he should respond to the quick blatter of your brain. His mind gripping so hard like wires being tightened.

"---It must be for the better that you tighten that mouth of yours because you don't know when to shut up sometimes,"

Geralt had a cloudy countenance from his sudden bark. Suddenly forgetting how to respond after hearing every word inside his head. He shouldn't have cut you off especially when you were about to say your secret---the one you've been delibitating over countless of times inside your head; making everything sure before saying those heartfelt words because it was three words that meant the world to you as it will be the first.

Yet, the witcher had to fuck everything up with his petulant mood.

Your clenched fists turned slack. Expression stolid with your throat tightly swallowing the bane sipping through your esophagus like it was being punished for even hoarding all your confidence over confessing what you've felt for the white wolf. You've rapidly blinked your hazy, cloudy eyes; your chest tightening because it was reading 'rejection' because of how Geralt wanted you to shut up.

Maybe, he didn't need to hear the confession at all.

Eyes cast downward; feeling the medicines he'd given you seep through your skin and making everything numb. You didn't expect the concoction to also numb your fragile heart, experiencing your first heart break. Your palms turned clammy over tightening them over. Passing beside Geralt and avoiding those eyes that was thoroughly regretting what has been said, the bed may seem to be a better place to faint on and cry yourself through the night rather than his comforting arms that you wouldn't get to reject if he'd say his apologies, trying to stop you from crying.

Hurriedly hiding your face away from him, you've sat on the bed with your back away from him. Your face like rain experiencing in the middle of thunder, utterly gloomy and despair for reading the signs in the opposite of what you didn't expect. Forgetting that love shouldn't be filled with expectations so disappointments may be less.

Your toes were scuffing against the carpet with a voice turning smaller, shaky as the tears were threatening to fall and it would be when Geralt decides to talk.

"I hope you didn't say that but...but considering my profound hearing tonight and how angry you made me feel, I suggest that you take care of that monster hunting of yours. I sincerely hope you find that witch. You can throw me away soon so you couldn't hear anything from me again, Geralt. You want me to zip it? I'll zip it, then. Don't bother talking to me if you genuinely don't want to,"

Everything would be perfect. This would've been a utopian scenery when your leading man decides to wrap his arms around you, comforting you from the verge of crying your heart out for his mistakes or for both of yours. But, Geralt was no leading man or a prince that he was highly opposing of. He was beyond repair or a man whom you needed to understand more than any normal one should because of how he was raised and created.

Geralt of Rivia was a witcher you couldn't understand. Hence, he was more human than he could ever get as he decided to be unresponsive. Silent and basking in his own regret. Just like a new potion he'd recently encountered, trying to decipher how it worked---knowing the ingredients to get you simmering down in no time.

It was a wrong word to say. Geralt was sure of it. He was beginning to argue with himself, grinding his own teeth together when he has seen your posture slouch. Your fingers fiddling with the sheets of the mattress, tightly holding them in your hands as you looked outside of the window from the side of the bed, avoiding his eyes.

Then, he heard familiar padded footsteps coming forth outside the doors of your chambers.

Eanraig. He was being requested to be seen for his upcoming hunt in a few hours.

Geralt was dreading to leave you in a state like this because he knew you were mad.

He heard loud taps against the locked door which has subtly make you turn your head towards the doorway without wholly turning your body. A frustrated growl reverberated around the four corners of the room---it was Geralt.

The latter tightly closed his fists on his sides, shooting daggers on your back who avoided giving him attention after his fuming episode, hearing the word 'fuck' slipping through his lips in such an exasperated bark to himself while he padded through the room and grabbed onto his belongings; his weapons and his resentment for such an argument that you blocked him in after receiving a petty, personal attack.

You've heard the lock sliding out of its hook. Swiftly turning on your bed, Geralt was already paving his way out of the door, heavily marching and begrudging. He'd open the door to reveal Eanraig raising an arm to knock a little more louder.

"The king requests for you, Geralt---"

The witcher gave a displeased, unmannerly grumble of his chest. A hum that surely given the druid an understanding that he was not in the best mood to talk, passing through Eanraig as he went straight out of the door with the nastiest scowl he has seen since the moment he arrived.

Lovers Quarrel. He mindlessly thought to himself, watching the witcher strut away and along the stoned hallways like he was bringing all the storm with him. Nobody would notice he was aggravated if they knew him better.

Eanraig quietly shut the door behind him, his eyes meeting your bleary ones that complimented the pouty frown growing more and more when you've realized Geralt left you all mad, never even intending to comfort you, ask what 'feelings' you meant or even bother to tell you that he didn't mean you were pathetic.

In a flash, you've gotten a queasy feeling inside of your stomach which made you grab onto your mouth, your face flinching as you suddenly stood up on your feet, "Little woman," the druid sauntered to where you've strolled---before the open windows as you shot your head out of it, retching after a little while before he was beside you, calmly patting your back to make you feel better.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just...nauseous. Thank you, Eanraig." wiping your mouth with the back of your palm, you've heaved exhausted breaths while the druid ushered you to sit on the bed. Talking in the midst of it, assuring him that it was nothing but just a stomach bug and feeling weary over it, "---Probably because they've beaten me to pulp,"

The Druid earnestly stared upon your pale face. Hands shaky as you grab onto the soft sheets, softly grazing them beneath the pad of your fingers, caressing with such feeble strength. Eanraig scrutinized your condition as you turned your head away with a face falling over your current fight with the witcher.

The latter languidly sat beside you, a genuine smile turning his eyes into crescent shapes that tells he was intrigued and amused over what signs was receiving from you especially the warm, tender aura radiating off you; more than what you can offer like you came in two's.

"Will you wholeheartedly accept the responsibility of being the mother of your witcher's child, little one?"

I hope you loved the double update, bb’s! FEEDBACKS ARE SO APPRECIATED!

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​​​​ @himarisolace​​​​ @barkingbullfrog​​​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​​​​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​​​ @nympeth​​​​ @amirahiddleston​​​​ @gabethelobster​​​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​​​ @melaninstylezz​​​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​​ @kingniazx​​​​ @angelias134​​​​ @tapismyforte​​​​ @chook007​​​​ @covid-donotenter​​​​ @deadlydemon​​​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​​​ @angelofthor​​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky​​​​, @shesthelastjedi​​​​, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks​​​​, @britty443​​​​,  @suhke3​​​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​​​  @ruthoakenshield​​​

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[hawkbucks]

Prompt: I always see you in the library and I think you’re really cute so I leave you little post it notes on your work whenever you go and get a book just to see you blush AU.

Note: Originally sent in by an anon on my now-deleted older blog (as is usual with these reposted ficlets jgkfld) 

It starts, like every good this-is-how-I-met-my-boyfriend story does, with Bucky dragging himself to the library after barely getting 2 hours of sleep last night.

With his trusty can of Red Bull and an ancient laptop that might as well have had dust spluttering out of its vents, he sits down in silent isolation from the other groups of students who take the library as a place to socialize and listen to music without earphones on as opposed to actually studying or writing their 3 essays that are due the next day. (He does, however, realize the hypocrisy in his way of thinking considering the obscene amount of time that he spends shooting the shit with Steve, Sam, and Nat in their group chat whilst his physics homework lies ignored.)

He takes a generous gulp of his Red Bull and turns on his laptop, ready to wait the 34 years it takes to boot up. The chair creaks disconcertingly underneath him as he leans back, but he’s had too many sleepless nights and too many mental breakdowns to care. If it snaps, it snaps. A trip to the hospital for a bashed-in head would at least give him an excuse to take time off from the hell that is university.

His laptop groans like it wants him to put it out of its misery, preferably with a BB pellet to the motherboard. He watches as the screen flashes white and the Baintronics logo pops up and swirls on the screen. A black loading bar appears under the logo. He waits, tapping his fingers on the table.

5%

30%

Somehow unloads to 19%

5–hold on. There’s movement in his peripheral vision. People sometimes come and intrude in his little corner when they’re tired of everyone else like he is, and it’s been long enough since the last person that he curiously looks up–

–and promptly lays his eyes on the cutest guy he’s ever seen. His black hair sits in a mess of soft-looking curls on his head, he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Jurassic Park logo on it (Bucky thinks he’s in love already), and a pair of glasses perches on the bridge of his nose. Glasses. Bucky chokes on his spit and almost tips his chair over. It’s not creepy, he tells himself as his eyes follow the cute guy who ends up sitting two tables over and, thankfully, ends up sitting in a way so that Bucky can see his face. He watches as he take out a sleek laptop, a binder, and dumps out a bunch of pencils and pens. No, I’m just… admiring his looks. And it’s not like Steve doesn’t openly ogle Thor every time they pass each other… fuck, Barnes, get it together.

Bucky shakes his head and turns his attention back to his laptop screen.

As it turns out, concentrating on his stupid study guide for this stupid quiz that’s coming up is near impossible when the adorable (yeah, because cute just isn’t enough) guy keeps shifting in his seat and giving Bucky excuses to look over. Bucky’s trying to remember all these formulas but the only thing that he’s committing to memory is the way that the guy sticks the tip of his tongue out when he’s, presumably, deep in thought, or the way that he has to blow his bangs out of his face when they come down to cover his eyes. The study guide, Barnes! Bucky’s mind yells. You don’t even know this guy! Stop mooning over him!

He goes back to writing down practice problems in his notebook and gets maybe 4 problems in when he hears wood screeching against linoleum and realizes that Adorable Guy has gotten up, leaving behind pretty much everything. Bit trusting, isn’t he?

Then, a light bulb flickers on in Bucky’s head. He rummages around in his backpack for some post-it notes.

He pulls out a stack of post-its–the pastel blue ones that he was supposed to be using for his history class but never actually got around to doing so. They’ll do. Just wanted to say that you’re cute, he scratches out on one post-it. His stomach twists and turns as he peels it off and tiptoes over to Adorable Guy’s seat, looking around to make sure he isn’t seen. Before his mind can catch up and tell him that this is a terrible idea, he flattens the post-it on the binder and slinks back to his own table.

He doesn’t know when Adorable Guy will be back, but he works on making himself look as busy as possible. There aren’t many other people around, but there are other people, so hopefully the guy won’t assume it was Bucky if he looked like he was elbow-deep in physics. He taps his foot, impatient.

1 thunk of Bucky’s head against the table later, and Adorable Guy comes back with a veritable stack of books in his arms. Bucky watches over the top of his laptop as Adorable Guy lays the books down and looks at his binder in confusion, sliding into his seat.

He picks the note up, reads it, and a pretty pink starts to rise up on his cheeks and dust itself across the bridge of their nose. He look around with wide eyes, seeming to take in everyone surrounding him and calculating who’s most likely to have written him that note. “Excuse me.” He reaches out towards Bucky, the note in his hand and sounding as sweet as Bucky thought he would. “Did you see anyone leave this here?”

Bucky puts on his best confused face and shrugs. “No, sorry.” He tries to not stare into the other’s eyes, even if, as cliche as it is, he feels like he could get lost in them.

Adorable Guy nods. “It’s fine.” And he turns away, just like that, probably pondering on whether it’s worth it to bother others and solve this mystery.

Bucky goes back to looking busy, but continues to watch over his laptop as Adorable Guy smiles softly, folds the note, and puts it into their pencil bag.

Oh, Bucky’s so screwed.

If anyone notices that Bucky starts frequenting the library even more than he usually does in the following weeks, they don’t say anything. Well, okay, they don’t say anything, but Natasha does throw him questioning looks and Sam wiggles his eyebrows at him. He might just have a tiny, slight addiction to passing on some anonymous notes to Adorable Guy. It’s just small. Miniscule. It’s not like his day feels a tad bit worse whenever he sees that Adorable Guy aren’t in his seat, and it’s not like his day brightens up whenever he sees him blush after reading one of his newest notes.

Nuh-uh. None of that.

None of Bucky waiting impatiently for Adorable Guy to get up and get some new books before he writes, Your hair is looking especially good today, when Adorable Guy comes in with his hair looking extra fluffy, or before Bucky writes, You’re smart. Just keep studying, I know you can do it, when he notices that Adorable Guy is huffing and puffing and running his hands though his hair more than usual.

None of Bucky barely able to hold in his own smiles, feeling his heart flutter when Adorable Guy positively beams.

All of this and it’s without Bucky actually knowing the other’s name. He realizes that he should remedy that sooner rather than later, but for now… he supposes he can keep anonymous for a little while longer.

As if on cue, Adorable Guy gets out of his seat again. Part of Bucky wonders if Adorable Guy has grown as excited as he is about the notes; he’s been getting up more and more, and he comes back empty handed or with a bag of chips from the vending machine more often than with another stack of books.

Quickly, Bucky takes out another stack of post-its–this time in a light pink–and writes, I’m not sure if you’ll still be coming here after this quarter is over, but I just wanted to say that you really are beautiful. Thanks for hanging around. He signs it with a smiley face and begins that familiar walk to the other’s table.

“You!” Adorable Guy whispers as he pops out from behind a bookcase, looking entirely too delighted and proud of himself, when Bucky’s about to stick the note onto the table.

Bucky freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He’s maybe 0.5 seconds away from bolting and never stepping foot in that library ever again, even if it is the one that’s closest to his classes. “Me?”

“You’re the one that’s been leaving the notes–” Adorable Guy licks his lips, and Bucky wonders if he picked up on his nervousness– “I’m not angry or disappointed or anything, if you think that’s the case. Now that I think about it, it’s actually, uh, kind of obvious that it was you, but… I’ve been wondering for a while, and… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Bucky repeats. He moves to cram the note into his pocket.

“No!” Adorable Guy blurts out, which earns them quite a few dirty looks. He bows his head in apology towards the disgruntled students and turns back to Bucky. “Don’t. I wanna read it.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I was sure about reading all of the notes you gave me before I knew who you were,” Adorable Guy retorts and sticks his hand out. “Now let me read it. Please?” He actually pouts, and that’s incredibly unfair.

Hesitantly, Bucky places the note in Adorable Guy’s outstretched hand (because he’s pretty sure if he tried to go against that pout, he’d get sent straight to hell immediately) and stuffs his own hands into his pockets. He can feel a thin layer of sweat start to form on his brow, which is ridiculous because usually he isn’t this nervous around people he finds attractive. Although, to be fair, none of them have ever looked like the guy in front of him.

Perhaps it’s because he’s a masochist, but he doesn’t look away and prevent himself from seeing Adorable Guy’s reaction. So, when his eyes light up and he smiles and that blush is back and Bucky realizes that he’s seeing this face to face, he smiles right back.

“God, you’re sweet, aren’t you?” Adorable Guy laughs, holding up the note. “I swear this just gave me cavities.”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’ll pay the dentist’s bill.”

“You better,” Adorable Guy teases. “I”m gonna need a name so I know who to make it out to.” He steps just the slightest bit closer and Bucky tries not to choke on his own spit again.

“James,” Bucky replies, “but my friends call me Bucky.”

“I’m Tony.” Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. It’s nice to be able to put a name to the face, and Bucky suspects he’s not gonna tire of saying Tony’s name any time soon.

“So, Tony…” Bucky looks at the table and quickly snatches up a notepad and a pencil. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, or he at least doesn’t protest. Bucky quickly writes something out, then turns it around and hands it to Tony.

Would you like to go out for lunch?

[rebsrams]

Crumble (Ethan x F!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Rebecca Valentine)

Warnings: NSFW/18+, swear words

Summary: She has a date. It’s not with Ethan. Yet somehow she happens to show up at his doorstep, that same night.)

Word count: 2,468 (sorry!)

Author’s notes: My first time ever writing smut. Don’t really know what came out, actually. Like a lot of smut but with that touch of fluffiness in the end. Also, I’m not a native speaker so please report any mistake, I’m here to learn!

Song: Crumble by Jeremiah Daly

The air in his apartment was thick with resentment, disappointment and a bit of disbelief.

Just knowing her out with some other moron made the blood boil in his veins so hard that he could feel the heat radiate under his skin.

He could clearly see her, her legs crossed, portions of her firm thigh showing up further and further as she laughed at the asshole’s jokes, causing the hem of her skirt to slightly roll up.

He saw the asshole’s filthy hand casually resting on her thigh, on her shoulder or caressing her cheek.

Trying to think about anything else, his fists clenched involuntarily.

His mind, however, reluctantly perched on the color of her eyes, her hair in the sunlight, her plump, freckled lips all over him. Him, and only him. Anyone else was just a waste of time, for both of them.

The very thought of it stirred his soul to its very foundations, making him think and feel things that he should definitely not think and feel about an intern.

A sudden urge began to show up, which he promptly had to cast out with a cold shower and a glassful of his newly opened scotch whisky.

Half an hour later he found himself once again laid on his sofa, face facing the white ceiling and counting hours until his next shift, when a timid bang on the door awakened him from his unpleasant reverie.

Then he found her, dangerously glaring in her garish green dress, which was perfectly matching her ivory complexion while divinely exposing her décolleté and emphasizing the morbid curve of her hipbone.

He couldn’t help but taking her in, staring at her and gulping not so lightly at the sight.

“Rookie.”

“Hi.”

She gave him an uncertain smile, as if she was badly regretting the decision that brought her in front of him, whatever the hell that was.

“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here, I... G’night, Ethan. See you at work.”

She literally blurted out the words, her face becoming one with her ginger hair.

He could clearly see that awareness was dawning on her, the awareness of not having a single logical reason to be there, on a Saturday night, while a random guy, in all likelihood questionably dressed, was probably waiting for her somewhere else.

Feeling bold enough, Ethan decided to let go of the rules of logic for once in his life and took her wrist before she could step away aiming for the elevator.

“Rebecca, what happened?” he needed a moment to be able to pronounce the next sentence.

“Did he hurt you?” he let out, his voice almost a whisper.

She shook her head, lowering her gaze, and he immediately let out a sigh of relief.

First of all she was fine, and second (if he had to be completely frank with himself), he was a little too out of practice to smack a random douchebag’s nose without any inch of hesitation.

His eyes turned concerned, impatient and, if he had to say, a bit curious to learn the real reason she found herself at his doorstep in such a particular occasion.

He didn’t need to ask further questions  because she explained the situation in such earnestness that made her look absolutely endearing to his eyes, making him forget entirely that he was mentally cursing her for the sweet lines of her body and her bitchy attitude just a handful of minutes before.

“I left. I just couldn’t and, I don’t know, I felt like you needed to know this. I really don’t know what came over me, actually. That’s all. I think I need to go to bed right now.”

He couldn’t help himself from taking those words as a clearly invitation, moving a step forward and firmly grabbing her waist with both hands, his face just a breath away from hers.

“Yours…” he breathed “or mine?”

The spark was ignited.

In a split second their lips came crushing over one another, entangling themselves in a complete mess of ragged breaths and exploring tongues.

They kissed eagerly, urgently, and stopped only to regain some air and not suffocate in their almost strangling passion.

She clumsily shoved her hands under his already loosened shirt, teasing and scanning every inch of his skin, occasionally digging her red nails into his flesh.

The low and growled moans that escaped his mouth at the contact shook her at her very core, waves of warmth spreading across her body.

Soon enough, the door slammed behind them and she found herself pinned to the closest wall, medicine books, novels and fishing magazines tumbling down the bookcase.

His hands easily found their way to the zip of her sparkling dress, now laying on the shiny cedar parquet.

His fingers dug as deep as they could in the flesh of her ass cheeks as he lift her up, clinging to her as if his whole existence depended on it.

She kept her arms wrapped around his neck, tracing with the way from his collarbone up to his earlobe with heated kisses, biting the latter and making him moan loudly.

She then proceed to suck the tender spot just under it, soothing it with her tongue immediately after.

An allegory of what their relationship was.

Hurting each other but being the only one capable of soothing each other’s pain.

“Rebecca,” he groaned “what is it that you do to me?”

She got on her feet and grabbed boldly the protruding bulge now visible through the tight fabric of his pants, which he felt rather uncomfortable.

“You tell me, Dr. Ramsey.”

Letting himself escape a moan, he hastily got back to his mouth’s ministrations on hers, while his hand slipped between her thighs, caressing the tender spots agonizingly slow.

“Ethan…” she begged, thrusting her hips in response.

He once again swooped her off her feet, kissing her thoroughly while walking to reach his wide double bed.

They tumbled on it quite unceremoniously, hands in each other’s hair, trying to come even closer than they already were.

Her hands made their way to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them all and letting the item of clothing fall off his shoulders and on the floor.

His hands swiftly reached for her underwear instead, sliding  the black silky garment down her milky thighs, lightly tickling her already sensitive skin.

And instant and powerful surge of hassle shook him at the thought of her wearing that kind of panties while going out with some kind of haphazard jerk, but then he realized he was the one laying in bed next to her. The bed of his apartment, where she practically ran to when the evening hadn’t even taken off.

“Rebecca,” Ethan breathed between open mouthed kisses “spread your legs for me. I want to watch you.”

She gulped at that words, doing as told but never breaking eye contact with him, blue in blue.

“God Almighty,” he moaned in satisfaction, taking in the view in front of him “you’re so wet for me already. So amazingly wet, Becca”

With that words his fingers ran up her inner thigh, unable to contain themselves, and began to part her folds in light but firm, little circles, while he was losing himself in the sound of her moans muffled again his shoulder and the feeling of her sex wrapping around him, while he entered her with the first finger in a single, swift movement.

“Ethan…”

He could feel that she was trying her best not to scream his name out loud, keeping her eyes shut and her head tilted back as a sign of surrender.

“Becca, honey, I want to hear you” Ethan said, sliding another finger inside of her and making her back arch and her voice increase significantly.

“Look at me” he whispered on her lips, while the pleasure was unsteadily building inside of her at the slight curling of his fingers.

She opened her blue green orbits and looked at him through heavy lids, gasping loudly when his thumb find the way to her clit, circling and nudging it gently.

He then began to worship every inch of her upper body with his mouth, spreading wet kisses all over the line of her neck, her collarbone and down to her breasts and nipples, biting carefully through the thin lacy fabric of her bra.

Getting rid of the latter rather skillfully with just one hand, maybe making her wonder how many times did he do such a thing recently, his torso finally met hers without any barriers and almost melted with it, the feeling ethereal.

He progressively increased the pace of his hand on her, loud moans escaping from both mouths. His fingers seemed like dancing inside her cavity, knowing every single step of the way to her disarming climax.

Just then, the roughness of his stub brushed against the smoothness of her  inner thighs in the sweetest of contrasts and his supple tongue reached inside of her, his fingers still aiming for the spot that was slowly driving her to completion in sure, frantic movements.

“Come for me, Rebs. I need you to do this for me.”

Soon enough, everything that kept her aware of some kind of existence of the outside world shattered around her, the fierceness of her orgasm claiming her senses completely.

He looked up at her, ocean eyes sparkling with gratification, watching her chest rise and lower while she was trying to normalize her breath with her eyes kept almost stoically on the ceiling.

Usually, in moments like this she liked to keep her hands tangled in his hair, always complaining about him cutting them every month.

Ethan’s gaze immediately turned concerned at the wide gap between the two situations.

“What is it?” he asked, trying to hide that little sting of fear in his voice for what he was going to ask next.

“Do you regret this? I’m sure that prick is already having fun spending his night elsewhere, if this is what’s troubling you.”

It took an unfair amount of effort from Ethan to sound as much disinterested as possible, but the truth was he was so interested that he could even let himself go and cry at her affirmative answer, such was the emotional impact that certain moment was having on him.

“Of course not, Ethan.”

Once again, he had to put down the urge to breathe a sigh of relief at her words, though he couldn’t help but wonder what was really troubling that amazingly cumbersome mind of hers.

He didn’t have to speak, because the quizzical look in his eyes drew out all the explanation he needed from her.

“You know I don’t. How could I? It’s just that every time you hold me, every time you keep me in check like this I… I feel like I’m going to crumble in your hands, sooner or later, and that I will not be able to put all the pieces back. I feel like I’m running at full speed to self-destruction because every damn time that we hook up or make love or simply dart our eyes at each other through the corridors, you could regret everything and shut me out again after all the struggle I’ve been through to finally deal with it once. So no, I don’t regret a thing and I never will. But maybe you do and the thought of it makes my heart clench every time.”

By the end of her speech, her eyes were reddened and glistening with tears that threatened to fall at any time, while he just gaped for a second before gathering the nerve to speak.

“I’m not going to regret this, Rebecca.”

He finally managed to say, and he meant it so profoundly that his voice almost broke.

“Then show me”

She couldn’t finish the sentence that his lips were once again all over her, his teeth occasionally scraping sensitive portions of skin.

She kissed his neck eagerly, wanting more, more than she had that night and more than she ever had with him.

She wanted his soul, completely, without restraints or the fear that he could suddenly get cold feet and walk away. She wanted him whole.

“Ethan,” she breathed out, limbs aching to stay the closest she could to him, “I want you.”

She straddled him in a neat movement, pressing herself against the bulge still inside his pants while trying to get him out of them by clumsily loosen his belt.

He then lift her up impatiently, placing her on the bed as gently as he could given the urgency of the situation, and freed himself from the torture that his trousers and underwear were since the moment she showed up at his apartment in that damn golden dress, hugging her like a second skin.

A few moments later he was already placing himself at her entrance, thick and hard with the most ardent desire he had ever felt in his whole life, and scanning her face for some kind of sign to go on.

She nodded firmly and he entered her slowly, inch by inch, savoring the bliss that the feeling was bringing to the both of them.

After a few, slow thrusts, he began to increase his pace more and more, letting himself escape a nearly infinite number of low groans while she was repeatedly calling his name, as if to have some kind of guarantee that he was not going to vanish in her arms.

She began to feel once again her muscles clench around him and the tidal wave of pleasure reaching for her, drawing out cursing words from Ethan’s mouth.

“Fuck, Rebecca, I’m close,” he somewhat managed to say, panting heavily and occasionally moaning her name through her coconut scented hair.

Suddenly he lifted both of her legs over his shoulders for a different angle, thrusting deeper than ever and reaching the spot that made her finally crush down, crying out in pure delight.

He followed immediately after, hips rocking frantically while gripping at her hipbones, probably hard enough to bruise her.

They remained intertwined for what felt like a fragment of infinite, finally collapsing into each other’s arms with their eyes half shut from the exhaustion.

She kissed her forehead while he watched her drift into sleep, finally letting go of the brake that had her clutched to the conviction that he could ever regret something like this.

Things weren’t easy and they still couldn’t come out of the closet, not yet at least.

But there she was, safely wrapped in his arms and snoring lightly, making her the most endearing little thing he had ever seen.

The world around them could have crumbled down, but she would have always been intact as long as she was with him.

 -------------------------------------

Told you the end was quite cheesy, I guess it’s kind of my trade mark ✨

[ifbrd]

Not Sugar-Coated, ToBecky Critique from a ToBecky Shipper

Let’s talk about Tobecky and it’s toxicity! And for once, let’s not hold back! I think what I’m gonna do for this post is focus on the dynamic they have in the show, mostly criticizing my own misogyny but calling out the fandom in general as well, as I’ve seen other’s do these same things. Later I will reblog it on the Word Up blog and continue my thoughts on the ship and how it affected Word Up.

The first thing I will say is that I am a Tobecky shipper, ever since Tobey’s first shorts when it was revealed he had a crush on WordGirl. I started watching this show as a kid, I would have been 9 or 10 when it started airing on PBS. If I were to get into this show today, however, I don’t think I would be shipping tobecky, because as an adult I can recognize its toxicity which I didn’t have the proper knowledge or understanding to do back in the day. And I think the real reason I still ship today is purely nostalgic. Though I won’t deny that their dynamic is interesting and that likely affects my shipping brain too.

As a kid, I think I shipped it because, well it seemed inevitable. It seemed like the only endgame option. How many romcoms start with a girl liking one boy, only to realize later she should be with a different guy, usually an underdog the audience is supposed to root for. How many romance stories start with the two not liking each other, ranging anywhere from minor annoyances for each other to full-blown enemies, only to later understand it was all a guise to hide their true feelings. It seemed obvious that Becky/WordGirl would end up with not Scoops, whom she had a crush on, but instead Tobey, the underdog she always was fighting or arguing with. Factor in Tobey’s crush, my very underdeveloped ability to think critically, and the fact that the writers in early seasons seemed to really take the time to focus on the potential chemistry between these two (their interactions in “Department Store Tobey” and both of them having a good time together in “Have You Seen the Remote?” etc) and it seemed there was only one boy for Becky to logically end up with.

The first time I can recall really questioning this ship, I mean really questioning it, was sometime in probably my sophomore or freshman year? Maybe my junior year? I recall my health teacher teaching us about healthy vs unhealthy relationships. In this unit, I realized several of my favorite ships across various fandoms were unhealthy but that’s a whole other topic. At one point I remember him giving his two cents about the phrase “opposites attract” when being applied to romance. He said this can be true, but only if the two are “opposites” in personality, and not “opposites” in values. If a couple’s values, their morals, don’t align, they probably aren’t going to make it. And in all honesty, I think Tobey and Becky have the worst possible combination for this.

They have very similar personalities, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it can make it easier for them to encourage their negative traits instead of helping them overcome them. The traits they both share like pridefulness, attention-seeking, and being a bit obsessive, have the potential to be the traits they bring out in each other. The best counter-argument for this is the fact that Becky is willing to and would call Tobey out for everything wrong or ridiculous he does, and try to help him. But that doesn’t matter if Tobey is not willing to listen to her when she calls him out, or accept her help when she offers it and he needs it. And it’s especially worthless if he’s not willing to help her back.

Meanwhile, the biggest weakness for this ship is their opposite values. Their morals couldn’t be more apart from each other. Get these two together for long periods of time and a morality war would easily ensue. And then combined with if their similar personalities do end up bringing the worst in each other, then any relationship they could have would be disastrous.

The worst issues with their pairing all go back to Tobey. I love Tobey as a character, don’t get me wrong, but we need to be honest, and please excuse the language--Tobey is a piece of shit! He is disrespectful to everyone around him, except his mother, and that’s only because he’s scared of her He thinks he’s better than everyone else and has no issues expressing that opinion, even going as far as to try to define words for WordGirl. He goes as far as to belittle her in “Tobey or Consequences” criticizing her word choice. He has been shown on multiple occasions to lose his mind when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants and will do anything to get it, without regard for others’ property, feelings or safety. He’s manipulative as seen in “Tobey Goes Good” and “Have You Seen the Remote.” He’s unwilling to take responsibility for his actions, as demonstrated when he attacks the candy factory for making candy because he got a cavity, instead of realizing that he should have taken better care of his teeth.

And worst of all, despite what he and the audience often believe, he clearly doesn’t give a single shit about WordGirl. If he cared about her he would have acknowledged her disinterest, if he cared about her, he wouldn’t have tried to force Becky into admitting she’s WordGirl in “By Jove, You’ve Wrecked My Robot.” If he cared about her, he wouldn’t have pretended to be good or trick her into spending time with him or forced her to read poems about him. In the Halloween special he thought Violet was WordGirl just because she was wearing a WordGirl costume, failing to acknowledge that Violet is blonde and white and WordGirl is clearly not.

The episode “WordBot” makes it very clear what kind of relationship Tobey wants from WordGirl--and it’s not a relationship. It’s a dynamic where she simply showers him with never-ending adoration and does whatever he wants. Tobey cares about one person and one person only and it’s not WordGirl, it’s himself.

And I’m not even counting “Go Gadget Go” in any of this! That episode put him in such a bad light that most fans pretend it doesn’t exist because his behavior is so inexcusable. And yet even without that episode, we have plenty of toxicity coming from Tobey’s end.

I once saw someone say they hate the tobecky ship because the argument for it often is that Becky will be willing to put up with Tobey when they’re older. First of all, if that’s your argument in tobecky’s favor you need to go take a good hard look at yourself. Becky putting up with Tobey’s messed up behavior is essentially hoping she ends up in a horrible, toxic, unhealthy, relationship that would be borderline abusive if she didn’t stand against him. Secondly, while I don’t deny the existence of this argument, (I once read a fanfic where the two were married but still a hero and villain who battled regularly) I disagree with the idea that this argument is most often used to justify the ship. Instead, the most common argument to justify it is the idea that Tobey has it in him to change. This is certainly a better argument, as Tobey changing is really the only hope for this ship.

But I think it’s really easy for us, myself included, to struggle with the line between finding evidence that Tobey could change vs excusing his actions; the line between finding an explanation for his behavior vs finding an excuse for him. It’s a very easy line to accidentally cross without realizing it. And it really says something when, as discussed in another post, we are not giving other villains like Victoria--who have more of an “excuse” --the same treatment. It’s incredibly misogynistic.

I’m not going to try to argue that Tobey doesn’t have the capability to be good, of course, he does. We can see this in the cute note he leaves in Becky’s backpack in “Trustworthy Tobey” and in the very last moments in the Thanksgiving special, and of course in our favorite example, “It’s Your Party and I’ll Cry if I Want to.” I’m also not saying that Tobey’s actions and psychology aren’t the product of the environment and circumstances he faces daily. Of course having no father figure present, a single mother who is always working, and no friends is going to affect a child. What I want to question is when is Tobey responsible for his own life, choices, and actions? Maybe not now at age 10-11, but what about when he’s 13? 16? 18? 21? 40? Where do we draw that line? I also don’t want to discourage looking for the good in people and characters and thinking critically about how their past and psychology is affecting their actions. I want to encourage that in all characters, not just the boy who happens to have a crush.

And while it’s nice to speculate that Tobey will follow a better path in the future, not so much for tobecky as much as for the betterment of Tobey himself, we need to realize that it’s just speculation. We have no canon proof of where his story goes post-WordGirl. He has his moments of hope but overall this kid has a terrible track record. When it comes to others, Tobey makes terrible choices. And that’s exactly what “going good” will be--a choice--his choice.

I also want to take a moment to talk about something @fromtheplanethexagon said in this amazing post you should totally read because it’s great. They commented on how very few people when writing tobecky fanfics takes the time to explore her perspective of their feelings for each other. Where her feelings originate and why she would like him. This is something I am absolutely guilty of and will be paying attention to in the future. After reading that passage from their post I thought for a while why Becky would like Tobey, and I honestly struggled with it a bit, which shouldn’t be happening if I’m trying to write a healthy tobecky story. That’s all I’ll say on this for now because beyond this I would use Word Up as an example, so I’ll save that for later.

The older I get the more I realized how toxic this ship is. Heck, who knows what I’ll realize about it in the future when I’m even more mature. In the past I’ve tried to convince myself it’s okay I ship it because I never shipped Tobey with WordGirl, I shipped him with Becky. I know they are the same person, but Tobey doesn’t know that, and the dynamics between him and each of her egos are very different. The dynamic between Tobey and WordGirl reminds me of Gideon and Mabel from Gravity Falls. Meanwhile the one between Tobey and Becky reminds me more of the one between Jimmy and Cindy from The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron. That’s better right? Even if just a little bit? Well no, not really, because we all know darn well if Tobey fell for Becky instead of WordGirl he would treat Becky exactly the same as he treats WordGirl. He would ultimately have the same “WordBot esc” expectations. If anything he might try to treat her worse. With WordGirl there is a clear power balance, and while it’s still technically there with Becky, Tobey doesn’t know it’s still there and might try to use that to his advantage.

And to conclude I’d like to add to @fromtheplanethexagon above-mentioned post (here’s the link again, seriously, read it!). Regarding their final thoughts that it’s fine to explore the ship, and it’s fine to explore the unhealthy parts of the ship. But we need to be careful to not glorify the toxicity of the potential pairing.

[honeym4rk]

station (jjh)

college! jaehyun x reader word count: 3.0k summary: four times you find yourself alone with jaehyun at a bus station.

There is comfort in the silence.

With every step you take, there is a crunch of fallen, juniper leaves at your feet. Your canvas tote bag is looped around your shoulder, your fingers clinging to the straps like it would shield you from the awkwardness of the current circumstances.

He’s got his hands hidden in the cavity of his hoodie. His knuckle cracking is sporadic, and you cringe at just how many times they’ve made an encore in the past two minutes.

You really should have begged Mark to tag along and leave the shindig so that this wouldn’t have happened- but alas, the boy was still hooked by the prospect of winning the next round of Mario Kart against Donghyuck. ‘It does some good to my self-esteem,’ he’d said. 

So here you are, sauntering bashfully to the bus stop with Jaehyun.

“So, uh- what bus are you taking?” You muster up the courage to speak up after a few minutes of painful reticence. 

“I’d have to take 922 or 153 from the opposite stop to get back to hall,” he sighs. It’s clear that he reciprocates the weird, distinctive tension here.

“And you?” He faces you with his raised eyebrows and you’re baffled by the sudden eye contact made. Your eyes dart elsewhere.

“Oh, I’m taking 922 from here.” You nod your head imperceptibly at the bus stop ahead of you.

A few metres away, there’s a zebra crossing, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re finally about to part ways. Oh, you’re sure Jaehyun is a nice person and all, but that doesn’t change the fact that the unspoken, kind enmity in the air is capable of being taut so hard around your neck that you asphyxiate. 

Ten more steps. Come on.

Five steps. 

Three steps.

“I’ll see you next ti-” 

Yet he doesn’t stop at the crossing. Instead, he continues his stride in tandem with yours towards the station. You stop in your tracks, slowly gesturing towards the beaconing street light with the hand you raised to bid adieu. 

“Aren’t you going to, you know..?” Eyes hinting at the yellow streaks of light, at the bus stop across the road, anywhere away from his own. Jaehyun notices your halt and follows suit.

“Well, I mean, Mark did ask me to see that you got home safe....”

You immediately wrack your brain for an appropriate response to his chivalry. It’s unclear how you should react; he really caught you by surprise. And from the way he’s gnawing at his inner lip and raising a hand to scratch the nape of his neck, you infer that he’s abashed too. All you manage is a small, “Oh,” as more silence ensues, before you start to blabber,

“No, no, thanks, Jaehyun, but it’s really fine, you don’t have to.”

His lips are taut into a firm, straight line and he lets out a surreptitious hum.

“Let me just wait ‘til you board your bus. Is that okay? It’s getting pretty late.”

You want to vehemently object. 

And you’re about to, but you let out a consenting “Yeah, alright.”

He’s invading your desiderated solace- yet something about his offer seems so genuine and saccharine that you comply out of curiosity. You’d heard things about Jaehyun around in school before, good things, especially seeing that he was well acquainted with your friends like Mark, but you’d never really encountered him until tonight, thanks to Donghyuck’s birthday celebration. Being a Linguistics student, fate hadn’t really presented many opportunities for him to meet someone majoring in Pharmacy. 

Therefore- you think to yourself- it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s unlikely that you’ll actually talk to him again, since you’ll probably never be within a radius of at least ten metres from him again. It’s alright, it’s okay. You decide to let him be a gentleman.

So you bask in the quietude shrouding the two of you, as you sit on the metal form, awaiting the arrival of a yearned 922. 

After all, there is the slightest hint of comfort in the silence.

There is also comfort in the familiarity.

You’re sure there’s a sense of déjà vu. It’s a similar scene to what had ensued a few weeks ago, at least, and you’re definitely surprised to be here again, with him . However, you’ve both abandoned the multi-layered cake of unease. It’s almost been completely devoured now. Fortunately.

Jaehyun’s chuckling relentlessly- nearly doubled over laughing- as you recount the earlier occurrences of the Friday night. 

“Yeah, no, but I’d give anything to see the look on Donghyuck’s face again.” His eyes crinkle into small crescents as he runs a hand through his silver hair.

“He looked so confident that it was going to work and I’d already told him otherwise, but I really don’t know what he expected.” 

Tonight, there had been an effort to study in Donghyuck’s apartment; considering the looming exam season. This purpose was indeed fulfilled, to some extent. 

Then Donghyuck, feeling rather ravenous, decided that he wanted to indulge in a quick and easy two-ingredient Oreo mug cake. The video tutorial truly looked too good to be true- you’d seen multiple YouTubers debunk the content-farm produced recipes. 

The wide-eyed boy was too desperate, however, as he credulously decided to fill his mug with crushed oreos and milk to the brim. He swore that it looked and sounded promising until a loud Pop! reverberated in the kitchen 30 seconds into heating.

Everyone gathered around to watch Donghyuck cry over his spilt milk, literally, as his appliance perpetually emitted smoke, its glass door burst open. Burnt mounds of moist black and white cookies were thrown at the white, metal walls of the microwave. Donghyuck fanned the plumes of smoke hastily.

“It looks like a volcano erupted.” Mark added, coughing, as he tried to swallow the chuckle bubbling at the back of his throat.

“Dude- I don’t want to say I told you so but,” You began to implore, before Donghyuck interjected.

“Maybe I should just try again, I think the microwave setting just wasn’t right.” 

And so he did- but to no avail.

The two of you approach the tiny station side by side, and you relish the warm, fuzzy feeling establishing in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but maybe more like a tiny sprout popping out of the ground.

“To be fair, though, it didn’t taste half as bad as it looked.”

You snort. “Sure, because it’s literally sugar and milk with a dash of hidden carcinogens.” 

He lets out a low chortle. Jaehyun nails the bellowing dad laugh right down to a T, and some part of you finds this endearing.

A flash of bright light emerges as you look up from your feet. 922 has arrived and you’re rummaging through your bag for your bus card. 

“I feel like I left my card at Donghyuck’s, shit,”

The bus halts. 

“Here, use mine, I’ve got a spare.” Jaehyun offers without a second thought, pulling his card from the pocket of his denim jeans. 

“Go on, the bus driver’s waiting.”

You would have thought this through for a little while longer, but he was right. A scowl that said ‘Stop wasting my damn time,’ is plastered on the driver’s face, and it urges you to carefully pick the card slotted between his fingers. 

“Thanks so much- I’ll return it tomorrow, or something.” Your eyebrows furrow together and you clench your teeth together in a grimace.

“Yeah! Yeah, whenever. Good night, Y/N. Get home safe,”

“You too, thanks again!”

Boarding the bus hastily, you wave at him through the glass door as the bus sets off. He doesn’t leave until you’re out of sight.

You can’t help but grin as you examine the portrait on his student pass. He’s handsome, skin clear and glossy, hair parted such that there are a bunch of strands obstructing his forehead. It’s black in this image. You wonder how many colours it's been dyed. His dimples replicate the poked slime in the myriad of videos you’ve seen, and his cheekbones are incredibly prominent. 

It dawns on you that you don’t have his number, or follow him on Instagram, or have any means to contact him at all. You guess that you’ll have to fish something from Mark, but Jaehyun seems to beat you to it.

Unknown, [2340]: hey this is jaehyun lol hope you get back safe :-)

A sudden flash of the many possible outcomes this could entail breezes past your mind. You’re quite uncertain about how this will play out, and you unlock your phone to reply.

Y/N, [2341]: hii hahah thanks again! i can return your card tomorrow, just lmk where i can drop by

Jaehyun, [2341]: yeah sure, i think i’ll be cooped up in starbucks doing work w my friends lol 

Jaehyun, [2341]: u can join if ud like :o

There is comfort in the unknown.

There is comfort in the noise.

Your whole herd of boisterous friends are walking uphill from yet another study session at Donghyuck’s- there’s been quite a number of them since the first. You’re honestly amused by how many people can fit in his apartment. The study group has expanded from a mere four to a whopping seven people in total.

Thankfully, there haven’t been any microwave oven explosions since then, but you’ve had your good share of fun and company, and more importantly, productivity. 

The pack of young adults currently divulging the extensive, latest gossip and hall horror stories, you and Jaehyun stray further behind. You’re trying to listen in and pick apart information, but you’ve joined the conversation a bit too late for context. 

“Oh my god, Lia, you’re going to hate hearing this, but…” Jungwoo begins, his voice entering a decrescendo.

“But Jeno has a girlfriend? Yeah, I figured.” Lia wails. “I saw them together in the library the other day, being all cute and shit. My heart shattered .” She emphasises this by hitting Jungwoo’s shoulder out of pure frustration. 

“How long have they been together, though?” Ryujin quips, to which she gets a reply, but you try to drown out the rest of their conversation.

You tug at the arm of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt, and he leans closer to you as you query, “Who’s Jeno, again?”

“Cute dude that she keeps bumping into at hall, I think,” he mumbles. His words are semi-intelligible, because of the commotion right in front of you.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.” The infinite frequencies are hard to tune out, and it gets increasingly arduous to do so when Ryujin gasps.

“Oh shit, the bus is here!” Your friends are immediately ready to break into a sprint, but Jaehyun’s feet seem heavy as he continues to meander with you. 

“Jae, aren’t you coming? The next one’s in thirty minutes!” Jungwoo shouts as they begin to dash across the road.

“It’s fine, go on! I’m just a little lazy. See you!” Jaehyun dismisses him with the wave of his extended hand, and receives an incredulous look. The lame excuse confuses you, bamboozles you, but you wave goodbye to your friends anyway.

It’s been long since you’ve been caught alone here at the bus stop with Jaehyun- you usually head home with Mark every Friday. He’s not here, though. He’s crashed at Donghyuck’s for tonight.

“Uhm, what was that ?” You chuckle nervously, the little sprout in your belly magically reappearing. Truth be told, after the many lighthearted, late-night messages exchanged over the past few weeks, and after unravelling Jaehyun bit by bit, the sprout has grown into a pocket-sized garden. It brings its own butterflies, but you don’t quite have the audacity to admit this. There’s a different kind of trickiness lingering in the air tonight.

“Well, you know- Mark…and it’s- it’s getting late, kinda.” He’s timorous tonight. Under the luminescence of the bus station’s lamps, you see the pink tint land on the tips of his ears, something you’ve learnt happens when he’s rather shy. 

“I wanted to ask you something, too, though.”

“Okay, shoot.” You take a seat. He sits a modest distance away from you, cracking his knuckles instinctively.

“Well, I uhm, I’m not quite sure how you’ll react to this but,” he licks his lips.

“But?” You encourage him to carry on, staring as you await his continuation.

He looks as if he’s got the words at the tip of his tongue, the sea of sentences about to overflow from his mouth, and they’re spilling when he starts speaking again.

“Would you-” You listen intently, attempting to read his lips. However, he’s cut off by the booming wails of a velocious ambulance. You whip your head around to watch the vehicle pass by. 

Jaehyun breathes sharply, exhaling in frustration. The cries subside, so he tries again. 

“Y/N,” he clears his throat, and you face him once more.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I was wondering if-” 

A fire truck zooms past the bus stop, and your attention is grabbed by the monotonous siren that raids your ears. Jaehyun notices your bus approaching, and he panics. The air-raid isn’t becoming distant; the truck’s obstructed by the imposing red-light flashing. There’s only so much time left to ask what he’s been dying to- and he can’t believe he’s getting cockblocked by the emergency services right now. 

You’re hearing Jaehyun spill a string of words but they’re incoherent- all you can seem to comprehend is the blaring repetitions that are relentless.

“What?!” You shout, fighting past the cacophony. “I can’t hear you!” You’re signing this to him, pointing to your ear and shaking your hand vigorously.

Your bus halts before you. Jaehyun’s in an absolute frenzy now. He doesn’t want to do this online. Something about hiding behind his screen sounds so ingenuine to him, and you’re already standing, shit, but he can’t win against the absolute pandemonium and doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the small crowd that’s alighted the bus, but he’s also not sure when he’ll get to talk to you in private like this again, 

So he clamours.

“Do You! Want To Go Out! With Me!” He’s cupping his large hands around his mouth, screaming into the makeshift amplifier with all his might, as you walk towards the front doors of the bus.

You look like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide open in disbelief as you gawk at the boy who’s sheepishly glancing at everyone and using his hand to defend himself from their stares. The butterflies that have erupted in you are merciless.

And then you burst into a fit of laughter- Jaehyun curses the sirens for piercing through such a pleasant sound- and you nod profusely, one foot already boarding the bus.

The glass doors shut close, and you’re enthusiastically gesturing to your handphone, waving at him. The bus whizzes away.

He’s shell-shocked, and he’s unable to will his hands in drawing his phone from his pocket. The sudden series of vibrations brings him back to his senses.

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝),[2257]: WAIT ask me again

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: idk if i heard u right

Jaehyun, [2258]: k

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: dude come back </3

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: YES lol

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: yeeeeeeees

It heavily hinders Jaehyun that night, but there is comfort in the noise.

There is comfort in the isolation.

It’s only the blinding fluorescent lights and the cool breeze presenting company at the bus stop- you’re grateful that the occasional cars speeding by are helping you break down the very last walls of tension between the two of you, if there are any.

Whoosh. 

“I really enjoyed today.” He smiles and steals a quick glance at you. You’re at a different bus stop now- a month later and you’re amazed that you’ve gone out with Jaehyun at least three times now.

You catch the slight twinkle in his eyes as he scoots a whole foot nearer towards you on the cool metal bench. The distance between the two of you is closing slowly yet your heart rate is augmenting. It’s accelerating now- faster than any of the rambunctious vehicles that race down the road, their engines revving dirtily.

Whoosh. A black BMW zooms past you both and you take the opportunity to reciprocate the cheeky glimpse.

“Me too.”

There’s fumbling of fingers and twiddling of your thumbs before you notice the sudden influx of light and buzzing and realise that your bus has arrived. Pure languish rushes through every vein in your body- you don’t want this night to end.

Jaehyun begins to stand and shoots a quizzical expression when you don’t follow suit. 

“Let’s wait for the next one,” you grin, your legs swinging back and forth as you continue to glue yourself on the elevated seat.

The sound of his chuckle envelopes you into a warm hug- it’s deep, and strong, yet soft at the same time- and then you’re pulled to your feet by your wrists before he embraces you with confident hesitation too.

“Is this- it’s okay, right?” He just wants to be sure.

“Yeah- very.” You breathe, and his boyish smell fills your lungs. There is difficulty in naming what scented cologne he’s used today; but you devote no more attention. You just wallow in the tangy, mellow fragrance that has permeated your senses.

He’s got his arms coiled around your waist, his palm extended to press your back closer to him. You’re playing with the sharp, freshly cut hairs on the back of his neck. You run your fingers through them and he dives his head further into the crook of your neck. Jaehyun’s muffled voice is tickling your shoulder-

“Your hair smells really nice.” The corners of your lips edge upwards into an unrelenting grin.

“Thank God.”

There is comfort in Jaehyun.

[writerman]

Psst. Write a hanahaki disease fic for Barduil where Thranduil has it. You gotta write it.

Hey, anon, remember when you requested this probably like a year ago? Yeah, me either...

Anyway, here is what you asked for. I wrote over 7000+ words in a day to finish this asap.

My thanks to @morticia-butler​ for all the help looking up Hanahaki disease headcanons and an iconic line I simply had to include.

This is a long one so some of it will be under a readmore BUT you can also read all my other Barduil prompts via this fancy schmancy LINK

On to the story!

---------------------

8:30am. Thursday. September 17th. Just petals. 

The mirror reflected a pale and haunted image back at him while bright and vibrant yellow petals dusted the front of his pyjama t-shirt. 

Daffodils. 

His favourite. Thranduil, however, had come to detest the sight of them. The sunshine yellow flowers openly mocking him, their bobbing heads in the breeze seen as a gaggle of them laughing almost jovially at his situation. 

No point thinking on it in-depth, not when he could temporarily abate the problem. 

With such a thought in mind, Thranduil brushed the petals from his shirt into the sink and watched as they swirled in the water a moment before vanishing down the drain into the darkness. 

But there would be more. 

There was always more. 

A soft knock at the bathroom door stilled his hand as he reached for his toothbrush and he turned to see Tauriel watching him with concern. 

“I didn’t know you were visiting today, what are you doing here?” Thranduil’s voice was soft as he spoke, though, the lilting sound of surprise cracked his voice for a moment. “Had I known you planned to visit I’d have been ready by now. What are-” Thranduil watched as Tauriel leaned toward him, her hand brushed the fabric of his t-shirt as she plucked a petal still clinging to the fibres. 

“Dad, you said this had stopped!” The words rushed out and they were so loud as she held the petal up between them. While it hadn’t meant to come out so accusing, he could hear the dismay that coloured her words, it still felt harsh and Thranduil braced himself for a barrage of instructions to get himself to a doctor. 

“It was quelled for some time. The doctor gave me special inhalers that slow the spread but I’ve not had the time to contact the surgery for a refill.” He gestured to an empty inhaler laying innocently on its side by the sink. They had helped immeasurably and the majority of his family had believed the disease was done and gone. 

But Hanahaki was not that easy to be rid of, he knew and deep down his family knew that too. It was easier to think he had been cured than to do consider the alternative…

“I dropped by because I wanted to know if you felt like grabbing breakfast?” Tauriel turned from the bathroom door and wandered into her dad’s bedroom, his clothes were laid out already, she paced past the bed and back out into the hallway. “I’ll be downstairs, let’s go out still.” 

There was no time to respond and so Thranduil internally agreed to breakfast with his daughter. She and Legolas were the same in that they were strongwilled, always happy to make a decision and happy to make it for someone else too. 

They definitely had gotten that trait from him, even if he had mellowed somewhat with age. It was easy to recall his younger days with clarity, he walked tall never a curve to his back because he bowed to no one. 

He had been so headstrong and confident, even after his wife had died. People had come to him speaking softly with sincere condolences but Thranduil cast the sorrowful glances aside and carried on working. 

That felt like aeons ago now, Thranduil was more in touch with his emotional and mental health now, gave and took the time of others as freely as he should have when he was younger. Thranduil found value in the world where once he would have shunned it. 

Turning to look in the mirror, that pale and haunted face stared back but the eyes seemed less empty than they had earlier. Even with his disease there was still hope within him, it was choked and stuttering by the roots of the flowers in his chest and lungs but it was there. 

“I can’t give up, not yet.” He whispered to himself. 

They ended up heading to Tauriel’s favourite place for breakfast, it was a small family-run restaurant and the food was good. The cheery wait staff did not match the highly polished wood and marble of the place but it felt strangely homely all the same. 

It was while Thranduil perused the menu that Tauriel brought up the subject, or rather, the object of his disease to him. A public place so he would not make a scene, perhaps, or rather, she hadn’t thought of the setting and only wanted to relinquish her hold on the burning question she had within for months. 

“So, will you at least tell me who it is that did this to you?” Badly worded. No one had passed the disease onto him, that wasn’t how it worked and he knew Tauriel understood that. “Come on, dad. Do they know what they’ve done to you?” Of course, she was angry but why was she being angry with someone innocent in all of it? 

While the majority of the time Thranduil was able to ignore these unnecessary outbursts from his children, there were ofttimes when his frustration got the better of him and one of those times was now.

With hands loosely balled into fists resting on the tabletop, Thranduil pinned his daughter with an icy glare that quashed whatever words she had left inside to say on the matter.  

“I have told you time and time again, I will not tell you who it is. You know damned well that they are not to blame in this. You’ve seen the diagnosis, even though I’ve asked you to stay out of it, you’ve seen the words ‘ self-inflicted’ on the documents.” He voice was low but the chill in his words caused Tauriel to sit back in her seat and avert her gaze from his. 

“I’m sorry-” She stopped when the waitress came over and set down their coffee and a rack of toast. There was time enough between the waitress approaching and leaving for Tauriel to regain her composure. “I’ve read so much about this over the past few months, it might now be onesided that’s all.” She was right but the percentage was low.

Hanahaki disease was such an odd illness to contract, the phenomenon of flowers growing in a person’s chest and lungs due to unrequited or onesided love. The agitation of yearning and pining watered the blooms until the lungs were completely full and the chest cavity would split open with leaves and stems and petals spilling out and killing a person instantly if they hadn’t already died from suffocation. 

But that was only intense cases. There were ways to slow the spread and Thranduil was taking measures to ensure he could do such a thing. 

Regular therapy was one. His therapist was a wonderful woman who guided him through the process of coming to terms with his unrequited love. They spoke of how to be honest and open with the feelings he experienced and how to provide his own closure.

Though, they had many hurdles to jump. Thranduil didn’t believe in closure per se, to him revisiting something traumatic and uncomfortable merely reopened wounds. They’d spent many sessions focussing on the death of his wife and while it had helped immensely in allowing a belated grieving it ultimately had not helped with his predicament.

But he was not to call it a predicament his therapist had said. To remove the seriousness of the disease was to remove the value of his own life. There were many times she had asked him to look from the outside in and speak on the issues in his life as though they affected another person. It had helped and when things looked bleak or if Thranduil began to brush off the seriousness of his illness he would remind himself that he would not allow someone else to do that to themselves. 

The next most drastic step was surgery, but it was a temporary step and it slowed the spread of the disease. Researchers in the medical field studying Hanahaki always implied heavily that the physical manifestations of the disease were caused by the brain and thus Hanahaki was registered as a mental illness. 

It was why doctors pressed so hard for those that suffered to seek therapy. 

“I won’t be involving the person in this what so ever, Tauriel. Please, I ask again that you drop the subject.” How he had pleaded like this before and how it emotionally exhausted him to see the fear in her eyes every time she visited. 

It was all because he knew that one day she feared she’d find him lying dead, a bouquet of blood-stained flowers adorning his chest in a beautiful and grotesque display of the love that had plagued him. 

“I understand that you’re scared but I promise you I have no given up. I have an appointment with my therapist this afternoon and with my surgeon to discuss a date for surgery.” 

His words seemed enough to placate her for now and she instead busied herself with buttering some toast.

3:00pm Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

“We spoke about your wife again last week, I noted that you requested we move on from the subject. Why do you feel you need to leave that subject alone?” The room was shaded from the bright Autumn sunshine streaming in from the window. 

Thranduil could see the glowing gold around the edges of the blinds and forgot where he was for a moment as he watched it flicker with the shadow of trees swaying the breeze. He couldn’t remember why he’d suggested they move on but it seemed the right course of action to him. 

“I just feel we aren’t focussing on the real problem.” When he spoke he made a point to look at her. Maintaining eye contact seemed important at that moment, he didn’t want her to think he was ruled by indecision. “My wife has been dead for years and we have already confirmed that, as much as I miss her, I have come to terms with her death and grieved appropriately.” Too business-like. As soon as the words had come out of his mouth he knew. 

The therapist merely ‘hmm’d’ in response and wrote something down. There was the internal battle to struggle with now, to explain himself to her or let her assume something of him that he would, personally, deem incorrect. 

“What is it you would like to speak about instead?” 

That was the problem, he didn’t really know. The only thing he wanted to ask was ‘How did you get over someone and quickly?’ but there wasn’t really much of an answer she would be able to give.

Magazines for years had offered ‘helpful tips to get over that person that doesn’t like you back!’ and Thranduil had put no stock in their, so called, wisdom. Now they didn’t publish these things, now they would ask you to seek help if you experienced any symptoms they listed on the page. 

Distraction techniques had been offered by his family in droves at the beginning when his diagnosis had been revealed. Nothing had actually helped because his mind would often wander to the object of his affection when he was practising a new hobby. 

“I think my need to rush these sessions is just because I’m scared of losing myself completely and if I do that, well, you know what happens.” Thranduil gave a half-hearted shrug, he barely lifted his shoulders but it was a shrug all the same and his therapist acknowledged it as so with a nod. 

“Everyone is scared of dying, Thranduil. Perfectly healthy people, people who have terminal diseases. Do you want to talk about your fear of dying?” 

He didn’t. 

They, instead, spoke of newer experimental ideas that Thranduil might have been interested in trying. She wrote out the prescription for the refill on his inhaler and made another appointment for a week later. 

It wasn’t often that Thranduil left the sessions more tightly wound than he had been when going in but he at least knew that he’d need something to talk about next week or they’d get back on the subject of his wife and he honestly didn’t think that was helpful. 

His next appointment was at the doctor's office, they wanted to schedule surgery but they had needed proof he was visiting his therapist before they would agree. It was a messy and an unfair condition but at least at the doctor's office he could get them to fill the prescription so it wasn’t too much of a wasted trip if they refused his surgery. 

1:00pm Friday. September 18th Foliage. 

The office was quiet now. 

Everyone but Thranduil had packed up for the day and headed out to start their weekends. It was a perk Thranduil had implemented years ago and it had been appreciated, even if it had been created to benefit him more so than his employees at the time. 

Nothing was waiting for him at home and there was plenty of paperwork to do so he poured himself a glass of water, took his inhaler and got comfortable at his desk reading through a brief for a new promotion. 

So engrossed was he in his work that he failed to notice someone entering the office and only when a takeout coffee cup was set before him did he move his gaze from the files he had been reading to intently. 

Looking up Thranduil ceased his movement almost instantly at the sight of his best friend Bard. The afternoon sunshine illuminated his handsome face with a soft golden glow, his brown eyes looked golden as he smiled down at him. His cheery countenance was always welcome and so was his gift of coffee but Thranduil could tell his friend was there with an agenda of sorts. 

“Haven’t seen you lately, Thran. You’re not holding yourself up in this office every night until late again, are you?” The concern, it left a shaking and aching hole inside Thranduil and that hole soon became clogged with stems and leaves, give the disease an inch and, well, that old adage. 

“No, I just had something to do here but it can wait. Did you need something?” To try and remain relaxed and carefree around Bard was increasingly difficult, more so when he had endeavoured to hide his disease from him as much as he could. 

“Hm, well, I just had the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me for a while if I’m to be completely honest.” Straight to the point, no beating around the bush for Bard and he had every right to be concerned because he was correct.

Perhaps it was more obvious lately that he had been trying to avoid Bard for a few weeks. Avoidance was never going to be the answer but this man was why he had the disease, or rather, what exacerbated it. There would never be a time he would place sole or even partial blame on Bard for what he was going through. 

“I’m sorry, I suppose I have been caught up in work recently. I’m absolutely not overworking myself before you ask. However, I’ve neglected my best friend and I think I owe you a drink, at least.”

“At least,” Bard repeated in agreement and he grinned, they didn’t move to get up. 

Thranduil busied himself with taking a sip of his coffee, it was a blond roast from Michael’s he could tell without even looking at the logo on the side of the cup. All the while he inwardly cursed the tightness in his chest and new shoots began to sprout and buds began to burst into bloom. 

There was no chance he could even begin to hazard a cough. It’d look like a cat had swallowed a canary. Or a man that had swallowed his feelings. 

For a short while, they chatted idly about what they’d done recently. Bard talked of hating the empty nest syndrome he was suffering now that Tilda had moved out, leaving the family home nothing but a ‘mausoleum of family memories that were visited by a spectre that had helped create them’. It was a dramatic sentence and Thranduil laughed aloud before offering something vaguely sympathetic to soothe his friend.  

“Can’t you clock out already, you own the business let’s get out while it’s still bright,” Bard complained as he rose from his seat and wandered toward the large window Thranduil sat with his back to. “The sun is still warm and we could probably walk to the pub instead of taking the car.”

“Walking to the pub suggests that you don’t wish to have a few drinks but one too many.” As much as he hoped he sounded wise, Thranduil knew Bard would have clearly taken it as a challenge. So they were absolutely going to get drunk that night and Thranduil couldn’t have been more terrified of that prospect.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, you’re my best friend and even if we both regret how bad we feel in the morning, age that does that to you, I want to get drunk with you, Thran!” Ah, old age hadn’t fully caught up with Bard yet, he was vibrant and energetic and hot. Gods above was that man gorgeous. 

That was where it all began though, Bard had blazed into his life when they were in their early 30’s. Thranduil had just lost his wife and was trying to juggle a career and two grieving kids. 

Bard and his wife Anya had helped him. They took the kids to school and picked them up and fed them so Thranduil could… do what? He couldn’t even remember now- he hadn’t grieved that was for sure!

With a 10 year and an 8-year-old broken over the loss of their mother and having no support from their emotionally unavailable father, Tauriel and Legolas had grown up to be quite well adjusted. Though, some of that might have been the therapy they’d gotten as suggested by their school. 

It had happened only 2 years later, Bard lost Anya and he was thrown into a situation similar to Thranduil’s and the roles were reversed. Sigrid and Tauriel grew up like sisters and were still close because of how often they saw one another. They bonded strongly over what had happened to their mothers and became each other’s strength when they needed it.

The same happened with Bard and Thranduil, they became close friends. They took the children on holiday together, camping or water parks and spent their weekends finding activities for the kids that they too could take part in. 

For a while, it had been just friendship, but then as the children grew up and wanted to spend less time with dad and more time with friends they found company in each other more often than not. 

Then Tauriel and Legolas moved out for university, Sigrid and Bain left Bard for the same reason, Tilda was always adventuring with her friends and so when the empty house became too much they would go out. 

Dinner, drinks, a walk in the park, catch a movie or two. 

Innocent stuff, but Thranduil allowed himself to get comfortable and in letting his guard down he let feelings in that he had tried to avoid from the moment he met Bard. 

The problem was when Anya died Bard told Thranduil he couldn’t ever see himself falling in love with another person again. 

This was proven time and time again over the years, dates would happen once or not at all with people that could have been his perfect match, and eventually, Bard learned to ignore anyone that tried to flirt with him. A suggestive smile or even a compliment was brushed off as nothing more than friendly and the more unattainable he became the more Thranduil realised he was in love with him. 

A terrible turn of events to be sure, and now he suffered daily for it with petals littering his pillows and flowers choking out his lungs. 

“Are we going out then?” Bard’s voice cut through the memories Thranduil was replaying in his mind for the hundredth time and how thankful he was when he did. The blooming of the flowers in his chest increased with the thoughts of Bard. 

To say no to the request would put a strain on their friendship. Bard had already noticed that he was being avoided and it would do them no good for Thranduil to continue that. So, with a nod, he got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket. 

“It is a nice day, let’s walk to the pub then.” Intoxication was the last thing he needed but to keep up the charade that all was fine he’d need to at least try and play along. To play the role of a man in perfect health, body and mind, didn’t seem easy but he had to try. 

He would try because he loved him. 

10:45am Wednesday. September 30th. Bursting Blooms.

It was classed as routine surgery but Thranduil couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to slice someone open and remove flowers stamen to stem to root. Temporary as it was, he was thankful they had managed to organise it so quickly, his outing with Bard and the subsequent dinner the night after meant that his condition rapidly grew worse as time went by in the company of his best friend. 

He’d woken to more petals on his pillow than he had ever seen before and his breathing laboured. Even coughing to free up space didn’t work and instead, he was gifted with near whole flower heads landing in his hands.

The kids were horrified as they watched this because of course, it would have happened while they visited. Which led to him having to listen to endless ‘You should go to the hospital right now.’ in a chorus from them both until he showed them the inhalers. 

They sat either side of him in the waiting room now. 

Legolas bounced his leg continuously looking around the waiting room for something to distract him. He’d taken time away from University to be there to help with recovery. 

Tauriel chewed her nails and checked the time on her phone every couple of minutes as if time flowed differently in a hospital waiting room. 

There was no cause for his anxiety to manifest when he was sat between two that were already doing all the work for him. Sadly, he had no words to calm them of their fears because he was just as afraid. 

“Have people died from this surgery, dad?” Legolas piped up out of the blue, he sounded so young in that moment and Thranduil felt guilt course through his veins like ice for putting his children through something like this again. 

When he didn’t answer Tauriel did for him and she shook her head even though Legolas was focussing more on a poster across the room than on anything else. 

“No, because the surgery, while invasive to a degree, only removes some of the plants. They don’t fully remove everything because they simply can’t. Dad is going to be ok, more ok after this than he is now.” Her confidence only shaking by the tremor in her voice and Thranduil hoped Legolas couldn’t hear it. 

“Hmm, ok.” Pensive now Legolas falls silent but his leg continuous to bounce but not as animatedly as before. He was not calmed but something in her words convinced him that the surgery would be fine. 

Though, he didn’t understand why she would lie to him like that. His son was perfectly capable of looking up the survival rate on his phone, it was low just as low as the rate of people that were cured by expressing their feelings to their heart's desire. 

They were approached by a nurse in scrubs. 

“Mr Oropherion, if you would like to come this way.” 

1:56pm Wednesday. September 30th. Roots. 

Someone was gently squeezing his arm.

“Thranduil, you’ve just come out of surgery. Can you hear me?” The same nurse that took him in was now waking him. “We need you to respond to know you’re ok.” 

Nothing felt real yet he managed to croak out something akin to an ‘I’m fine’ but that was it. The need for sleep and an excruciating pain rushed over him and he groaned hands gripping the sheets as he waited for it to subside. 

“Out of 10, 10 being very painful and 1 being not painful at all how do you feel?” The nurse was holding a clipboard and a pen, they looked down at Thranduil with an expectant look and merely blinked blankly when Thranduil didn’t respond right away.

He needed more time than this to consider everything, on the one hand, he could breathe on the other the pain of being sliced open and stitched back together was awful. 

“Ah… 8 maybe?” His whole body shook as he came out of the anaesthetic and all he wanted was to leave his body while it was in this state and return when he was at home comfortable in his own bed with a cup of tea. 

His time in the recovery room was short and he was wheeled into a private room where he was greeted with the grim face of his best friend. Bard looked awful, pale and he seemed to have aged 10 years all with concern etched deep into his face. 

“You were having important surgery and just elected not to tell me?” It was quiet, so quiet that Thranduil almost didn’t hear him speak. It wasn’t until they were fully alone after someone had administered strong painkillers, that Thranduil finally acknowledged what Bard had said to him. 

“I didn’t need more people worrying about me than was necessary. I’m sorry, Bard. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to ask what the surgery was.” If he was honest, he still didn’t want Bard to know and if he asked him then and there he would outright refuse to tell him. 

Even if keeping such secrets ended their friendship it would be safer then, the heartbreak of losing him as a friend was all the cure he needed and it would continue to protect Bard from the truth. 

“If you had just told me that I could have been here for you from the beginning! Instead, I get a call from Tauriel asking me to come by and sit with Legs because she had to go grab something from home. I had no idea what she was talking about so you can probably expect a gushing apology from her later.” Bard dragged a hand through his dark hair, now laced with silver, as he started to pace. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Life wasn’t fair but this was kicking a man while he was down! 

“I’m sorry, Thran. I didn’t mean to come in and just… yell at you. How are you feeling, are you ok?” Bard moved towards the bed and poured a glass of water out and handed it to Thran who took the offering gratefully and slowly sipped the cold water in trembling hands. 

“Why can’t you tell me what the surgery was?” Bard pulled up the visitor chair so he was sad right by Thranduil’s bedside. For a moment he seemed indecisive in his actions until he, apparently, had a moment of clarity and took Thranduil’s hand in his. “Is it… cancer?” The words were uttered almost reverently as though he was afraid to speak the words any louder than a whisper. 

Could he lie and say yes? 

Oh, how disrespectful he would be to cancer survivors and those who had lost their battle. No, he could not lie and so he shook his head feeling more forlorn with each passing minute. The desperate need to wrench his hand from Bard’s was unbearable, the heat of the man’s hand seared into his skin and he couldn’t think straight wondering how it would be to hold his hand and know he loved him back. 

Something inside him grew and already a new bloom began to sprout. 

This was too dangerous. 

Gods, he was dying and yet he still thought he had a chance with this man sat at his bedside holding his hand whispering words to him like a prayer. 

Eventually, he knew he’d had to put an end to all of this. 

How he wasn’t sure. 

8:36pm Saturday. October 10th. Stems. 

The children had just left, left with promises to be there again in the morning but Thranduil waved them away and told them it was not necessary to coddle him in such a way. The look on their faces told him he really had no say in the matter what so ever. 

The surgery results were more temporary than he’d have liked, petals had started appearing again after a mere 10 days. With the inhalers they were few and far between but only 10 days of respite. His scars not yet healed from the procedure! 

All in all, it seemed to have been a waste of time but at least he was still able to breathe with relative ease, though emotionally it seemed he was breathless. Legolas and Tauriel barely gave him a second alone and were hawks when it came to spotting petals.

At first, they’d been nigh hysterical but Thranduil had calmed them down and explained that these things happened and that he was still able to breathe well enough so there was nothing to worry about. 

They hadn’t believed him. Not even for a second but they were distracted enough to come down from the height they’d been at in their worry. 

The doorbell rang not even 5 minutes after the children had left and Thranduil assumed one of them must have left something behind, so when he opened the door to find Bard on the doorstep he was surprised but ushered him all the same. 

“It’s late, what are you doing here?” Thranduil shivered and pulled the long misshapen and baldy knitted cardigan tightly around himself. It had been a gift from Tauriel, she had knitted it and then proceeded to never try knitting again yet Thranduil adored the huge thing that near drowned him. “Aren’t you coming inside?” 

He noticed after a moment that Bard lingered a little too long at the door and seemed frozen by indecision. It wasn’t like him to be unsure of something so Thranduil prodded again. 

“Are you coming in?” But Bard wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the cardigan and feeling self-conscious Thranduil wrapped his arms around it trying to cover the large holes, but Bard kept staring until Thranduil actually become protective of the garment and snapped at him. 

“What are you looking at?” Much like Tauriel had done before, Bard leaned forward and between his finger and thumb pulled a yellow petal away from Thranduil’s clothing, it seemed much brighter in the gloom of the autumn evening. 

It seemed enough for Bard to piece together the truth and he looked dismayed, his shoulders dropped and his head dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look up at his friend. 

“Is.. this why you had surgery?”

“Let’s not do this on the steps outside, come in and I promise I will answer all of your questions.” That seemed to put him in motion and with a short nod, Bard stepped into the warmth of the house and Thranduil shut the door. 

“How long have you had this?” 

Straight to the point, Thranduil had hoped he’d be given the chance to offer tea or something else before Bard started grilling him for answers. Honestly, though, he knew the question Bard wanted an answer to the most and Thranduil didn’t think he had it in him to tell him that, not yet at least. 

“Hmm, a year now, maybe?” It had been so long since he had been without the cursed disease and he hadn’t exactly been counting, seeing it was more a count down to his death if he truly tried to rack up the days. 

“Is there a cure, will you die from this?” The panic appeared from nowhere and Bard bit his lip as he tried to work out what he wanted to do next, he seemed to want to cross the room toward Thranduil and pace so to put a stop to either Thranduil made him sit down. 

“I will make tea and answer those questions when I come back.” One of them had to remain calm, while he would have loved to have thrown away his composure and screamed to the Heavens that life wasn’t fair he didn’t think it would help his situation in the slightest. 

When he returned with the tray Bard was stood again but this time by the fireplace looking at the family photos set out across the mantle. They were mostly of himself with the kids, one of is and Bard’s family all together on a camping trip and one of his wedding day. 

“Hanahaki, huh?” He must have googled it while Thranduil was in the kitchen, that was fine but he probably knew more than Thranduil would have liked now. “So the surgery you had was to remove some of the flowers… ah, I can’t pretend like I’m not going to ask. Who is it that did this to you, Thran, who is the one that can’t or won’t love you back?” The tone seemed one of incredulity, as though Bard couldn’t quite believe there was anyone in the world who couldn’t love Thranduil.

But there was. 

“Does it matter who and isn’t it better to see that I am trying to get better instead of giving up?” Deflect the question by asking a question, the only thing he could do as he poured tea and tried to stop his hands from trembling. “I am doing everything the doctors say I should.” 

“Which is?”

“Haven’t you just checked the internet for all of this?”

“Well, yeah, but I want to hear you say it, that’s all.” The conversation was going nowhere because Bard clearly couldn’t stand not knowing who this person was that had captured Thranduil’s heart and refused to return it. 

“I have therapy every week, I have inhalers to slow the spread of the blooms and recently I had surgery to remove the majority of the blockage but the roots are deep.” Such a drastic admission and so unfair to reveal his imminent death so casually. 

Taking a sip of tea, Thranduil watched Bard’s face cycle through several emotions before settling on… nothing. Instead of responding Bard merely added some sugar to his tea before lifting it to his lips to drink. 

“So, you were just planning on dying without telling me?” The words came out flat as though the conversation was casual yet boring. He had hurt his friend that much he was sure of but there wasn’t really much of anything he could say to soothe him now. Bard had been right, and what Thranduil had thought was caring and helpful turned out to be more selfish than anything else. 

“No, I would never do that to you, Bard. I don’t want to keep these things from you but please see this from my perspective. This isn’t something I want to scream from the rooftops- ‘LOOK AT ME EVERYONE I AM DYING BECAUSE THE PERSON I LOVE DOESN’T LOVE ME BACK AND I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY STABLE ENOUGH TO ACCEPT THAT!’ why would I want to reveal my weakness to someone? If Legolas and Tauriel hadn’t found out I would not have told them either!” He didn’t like being weak like this, not after a life of being seen as an unshakable strength a rock that you could rely on. Everything was beginning to crumble why would he want to bare his soul now? 

“Fine but don’t think I can just forgive you for hiding this from me. After everything we’ve been through together you just fail to tell me that, 1) you’re in love with someone, and 2) You’re dying because of it.” Bard set down his cup a little too hard and pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. “I… I have to go, Thran. I’m sorry.” 

He was on his feet in seconds following Bard to the door but the man was already in his car by the time he got out onto the steps to call him back. 

“You don’t understand…” Thranduil whispered as he tugged at the cardigan pulling it tight around him against the chill. “I didn’t tell you to save you from the guilt that I know you’d feel.” Of course, the words merely dissipated into the cold night air and the vapours trailing each word rose into the sky before vanishing completely. 

At least the universe heard his admission of the truth. 

4:00pm Friday, December 11th. Nothing but a memory. 

They had given him a clean bill of health. 

No roots, stems, stamens, petals, not even a leaf remained. The flowers had wilted and withered to nothing and Thranduil took an easy deep breath as he left the doctor’s office. It was a chilly December evening and he was adjusting his scarf when Legolas nearly bowled him over running into him his arms thrown around his neck in a tight embrace. 

“I heard the news! You’re better now for good?!” The excitement in his son’s voice brought genuine tears to Thranduil’s eyes and he buried his face in Legolas’ golden hair for a long month savouring the warmth his son gave. 

When they broke apart Tauriel was stood by her car, the engine still running. They must have just arrived as he was leaving. She gave him a cheery wave before climbing into the car to shut off the engine. 

Thranduil hadn’t confessed his feelings to Bard and Bard had not confessed his to him. Instead, he had worked hard to understand that sometimes your feelings just were not reciprocated and that was ok. 

Platonic love was just as good as romantic love, sadly, he hadn’t been able to speak to Bard since he’d walked out on him all those weeks ago. While he would always love Bard he understood that what he had done was hurtful and if he’d been given the chance he wished he could apologise. 

It had never been his intention to hurt his best friend but he had been so caught up in his own pain he had forgotten to consider those nearest and dearest to him. How had it been fair to hide such a horrible problem from those he held dear? 

“Have you heard from… him?” Tauriel knew everything now, she’d gotten it out of him not long ago, he was at his lowest and needed someone who might understand. It was not his proudest moment, leaning on his daughter emotionally for support, but she had been steadfast in her support of him that it seemed so easy to tell her everything. 

Thankfully, Tauriel didn’t hold the reaction Bard had against him. 

“I had been angry just like him too, remember?” 

Oh, she had, she had screamed murder in his home, right in the centre of the living room, when she had realised and didn’t speak to Thranduil for days. It was the longest she had ever gone without talking to him before, a whole 6 days until she came around and they talked about what it meant for the family. 

But now they were fine, life could resume. Thranduil could live with seeing them without the soft concerned glances Tauriel and Legolas would exchange when his chest grew tight and he wheezed as he tried to grasp a full breath. 

If only he could repair his relationship with Bard. There weren’t many he shared his life with and losing someone was extremely noticeable when that someone was fully apart of his daily life.

Even visiting his usual haunts proved useless. There didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere and Thranduil was much too much of a coward to walk right up to his door and demand to be let in. 

Yet, none of his calls were returned or his texts answered. When Tauriel asked Sigrid if her dad was ok she just shrugged and said he wasn’t doing anything unusual of late, but he had been grabbing a drink with workmates more often. 

That wasn’t a cause for concern as Bard had always been the friendly and sociable type. 

Whatever was going through his friend's mind he sincerely hoped he would take the time to consider contacting him so they could talk. There were only so many text messages he could send without looking incredibly desperate. 

5:30am Tuesday, December 24th. Easy breathing. 

A shrieking doorbell and the sound of continuous banging on the door jolted Thranduil awake and he swore loudly as he tumbled out of bed and shuffled wearily down the stairs. Whoever it was had better have a fantastic reason as to why they had to get him up at stupid o'clock in the morning!! 

When he pulled the door open to see a rather dishevelled Bard using the door frame to hold himself up the air in Thranduil’s lungs seemed to vanish. He stood motionless for a good 30 seconds before helping Bard inside. 

“You absolutely reek of alcohol. What are you doing here?” 

There was silence proceeding his question and, at first, Thranduil thought the man had fallen asleep on the sofa where he had collapsed but it appeared he was just thinking of the best response. 

“I had to see you.” Surprisingly he didn’t sound drunk and Thranduil considered that the cold must have sobered him up. For his own mental health, he decided against asking him what he meant about having to see him. 

“I don’t know about you but the larks aren’t even up yet and I am tired. Let me make some coffee for the both of us and we can see if I can’t get some sense out of you.” As he turned to move Bard’s hand shot out and his fingers curled around Thranduil’s wrist tugging him backwards with ease. 

“No, let me speak to you, hasn’t it been long enough already?” A sleep-deprived gravelled tone did not suit Bard and Thranduil could see dark circles around his eyes. Whatever had been on Bard’s mind of late must have had him up around the clock. 

“You were the one that decided you’d had enough of me, remember?” 

Those words caused the man before him to relinquish his grip on Thranduil’s wrist and he just gave a nod but when Thranduil didn’t move he took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“I’m sorry that I made it about me. There wasn’t even a second where I considered how scared you must have been to know that any day could have been your last.” 

“Yes, well, thankfully those days are behind me now.” 

Like a shock of electricity had gone through him Bard jumped to his feet looking this way and that before having the decency to look genuinely apologetic. 

“Did I interrupt your sleep with them?” In the light of the living room, Thranduil got a better look at him and something inside him clicked into place and he had to withhold a groan when he realised he had definitely, once again, fallen in love with his best friend. 

“There is no one, the person I was in love with, I’m not in love with them now. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact they did not care for me the way I wanted but I am better because I started to love me more.” Oh, what a liar he was. Yes, he did care for himself a lot more but he was falling right back into the rut he had been not 8 weeks ago. 

The second he started spitting petals he was going to wring Bard’s neck. There was no way he was going through all that again!

“There’s no one, ah, good. That means I have a sliver of a chance to ask you out on a date then.” 

No, no he wasn’t doing any of this without coffee. As much as he wanted to address every single word the man had just uttered he wasn’t doing this without caffeine and maybe some toast. 

Without a word he walked off into the kitchen and, like a lost puppy, Bard obediently trotted in behind him trying to get his attention. No, no, no, he was going to fill the machine with coffee beans and put bread in the toaster then he was going to get the toaster and throw it at Bard’s head! 

Whipping round to face him, Thranduil grabs a fistful of Bard’s shirt and pulls him close enough that they are nearly nose to nose. 

“You’re telling me that you have developed feelings for me in the past 3 months I have been in recovery?” 

Fear was the only emotion in Bard’s eyes and they were wide to the point the whites almost exceeded the iris. It would have been funny if Thranduil hadn’t wanted to throttle the man where he stood. 

“Well, I wanted to tell you I loved you as soon as you opened the door but you’re so scary when you’ve just woken up. You’re scary now, please don’t kill me. I love you!” 

That was it. 

“You LOVE me? Is that so Mr I Will Never Love Again? IS that so?!” There was a mixed bag of emotions stirring up inside him but mostly the murderous intent was winning out. Killing Bard wasn’t really on the cards but he wasn’t going to let the man get away with nearly killing him for over a year even if he had no idea it was his fault. 

“You are very, very, very lucky that I just so happen to love you, too.” The iron grip on Bard’s shirt relaxed and he tried his best to smooth the deep wrinkles but it was not to be. Regardless, he had Bard looking at him with a sappy grin plastered over his pale face like he’d been told he’d won the lottery and not the affections of a highly problematic male. 

“R-really?” 

“As much as it now pains me to say this, yes, I do love you so very much. So much so that my heart could burst if I tried to contain it any longer.” The thumping of his heart was so hard in his chest that he was sure Bard could have heard it if he’d tried. Somehow things were falling into place now with such little effort. 

There had been a chance Thranduil would have found himself bitter about the whole thing and shunned Bard’s advances. Revenge should have been high on his list with the grinning idiot before him but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than lean in and press a kiss to his Bard’s lips. 

“Really, really.”