#pardon my lateness for all of this but I hope you all enjoy what I've created thus far!

[barbaracleboy]

Bugtober Day 21: CD-i

Oh, I have been looking FORWARD to this day. Unfortunately I wasn't able to work on it as much as I'd like to over the past couple days, but I've been working on it since, like, the sixth. I really hope that you guys like it, even if it's weird on account of basically being a transcript of a YouTube Poop I came up with.

Long story short, I imagined a Zelda CD-i YTP but with Bug Fables characters representing the Zelda characters. Characters will refer to each other with the Zelda names in dialogue but the narration and whatnot will refer to them with BF names. (So, for example, something like:

"Bianca: Zelda, where are you?"

"Vi: Here.")

Hope that's not too confusing, ha. If you read I hope you enjoy it, either way have a great time!

In the Kingdom of Bugaria (and by Bugaria I mean Hyrule), Link (and by Link I mean Kabbu) was sleeping in his comfy little bed, wearing his Octorok-patterned nightcap and cuddling with his Dodongo plushy. Morning had arrived, however, and so Kabbu's alarm went off.

Kabbu's Alarm: (As painfully loud as you can comprehend) ualuealuealeuale ualuelaelaellalea, alsualsualualauusualulus ,,,alsualsualualauusualulus Chacarron, Chacarron,-

Kabbu (Link): (Sits up) aaaAaAAAAAAaaAAAAAaAAAAaaAAaAAaAAAaAAAAAAAaaAaaaaAAAAaAAAaaAAaa Good morning, Sun!

The Sun: GO FFFFFUCK YOURSELF!!!

Kabbu: Wah!

(Crashes into Vi (Zelda) )

Kabbu: Hi Zelda! (Runs off)

Zelda:...Hey.

Kabbu: Hey, The King!

Queen Bianca (King Harkinian): Not now, Link! I'm interrogating Duke Onkled on the whereabouts of my chalupa.

Hector (Duke Onkled): But I told you, I was gaming for fourteen days straight!

Zelda: Are you alright?

In Hector's Mind: (♩ We got a number one victory royale, yeah, Fortnite, we 'bout to get down-♩ )

Hector: no

Bianca: Enough! I can't rule without something to eat first, so Duke Onkled..

Bianca: (Mutates horrifically and looms over Duke Onkled) Where...is...my... D̶̲̘͖͓̥̼̺͚͍͚̫͖͛͆̓͂́͜͜͠͠I̵̧̧͖̪͔̯͔͑̅̋̒̄͛N̴̛̛̜̻̝̩̝̰͙̬̓̀̑̓͋͑́̍̓̚̕̕͝N̸̲̈E̸̛̘̮̘͖̙̻̺̥͎̮̻̎͋̌̏͛̓̒̔͐͆̐͛̚͝R̷̛͇͎̞̞͕͚̹͚̤̰̀̆̐̀̿͊̎̋̔̀̐̐̕?̵̧̟̺̠̟̙̬̤͉̦͓̞̓̄̊̌̉̍͊̾͜?̸̗̱̪͕̻̣̦̙̫̣̖̹̭̓͆͝ͅ?̸̖̫̫͇̩͆͛͝

Hector: HAVE MERCY!!!

Suddenly Leif (Gwonam) flies in through a nearby window, getting covered in sharp glass.

Leif: Your-ow-majesty, Ganon and his minions have seized the food of Koridai.

Bianca twists her head to face behind her unnaturally.

Bianca:...What about Hyrule?

Leif: That too.

Bianca: Hmmm. (Twists the rest of her body to match her head) Link-

Leif: Also it's breakfast time.

Bianca:...Link, go to Koridai and take the dinner back from Ganon.

Kabbu: Oh BOY! (Jumps out a window.)

Link: (Flapping his arms like wings to fly) Woooooooooowwwwwwwww...

Bianca: Oh, alright.

Vi: (Sighs) Gwonam, can we go to Koridai to make sure Link doesn't-

Leif: Die, yes.

Leif and Vi jump onto Leif's magic carpet, which very quickly flies into a huge series of shuttle loops.

Leif: Squadaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladaladalada-(zips off)-LAAAAAAAH!!

Leif: Hang on, Zelda!

Vi: (Vomits like Peter Griffin).

Meanwhile, Kabbu lands right in front of the shop of Morshu (Fry).

Kabbu: Before I kick Ganon's balls, I need some ♩ W-E-A-P-O-N-R-Y, WEAPONRY!!! (Crashes through Fry(Morshu)'s door to the music) ♩

Fry: FOCK! (Shuts his laptop closed) Link, don't pull that crap!

Kabbu: Hi, Morshu! What can I get for...

Link looks in his pocket and finds nothing but his Smart Sword (It won't hurt anyone friendly! In fact, it makes them talk!) and a fake wand made of plastic.

Kabbu: (Pulls out the plastic stick) This magic wand?

Fry:...(Puts down a balloon shaped like his head) Bolloon.

Kabbu: Oh boy! Anything else?

Fry: Fuck off.

Kabbu: :(

Fry: Mmm...sorry, Link. Have this. (Hands him a toy Nerf gun)

Kabbu: Wowww!...Got an uzi?

Fry: (In a voice that's clearly not his) It's Nerf, or nothing!

Link: Okay! (Grabs the stuff Morshu gave him) Lah lah lah lah lah! (Breaks out the wall)

Morshu: Ah...(Opens back up his laptop) Mmm...I can use lamp oil as l-

Five minutes later, back at the castle.

Bianca:...Dammit, I'm hungry and bored.

Hector: Wanna watch me game?

Bianca: Dude, no.

Bianca pulls out a phone and calls up her old ally Queen Elizant II (Lord Kiro), who on her phone is listed as "That guy". You know. That guy. Lord Kiro. The "Here's the traitor you're majesty!" guy. Anywho, she's in the gym lifting weights like a friggin' badass whilst listening to music on headphones.

Elizant's Headphones: ♩ It's Christmas at Ground Zero, and the missiles are on their way. What a crazy fluke, we're gonna get nuked-♩

The music is interrupted by a phone call from Bianca (Named "Sweet Cheeks" on Kiro's phone).

Elizant: (Answers the call) Yes, my liege?

Bianca: Kiro, can you come over?

Elizant: Sorry, but I'm getting gains.

Bianca: But I'm alone.

Suddenly Elizant jumps out of the gym roof and through Bianca's roof.

Elizant: Hey, what's...

Hector waves "hello" meekly.

Bianca:...With Duke Onkled.

Hector: Hello-

Elizant: Fuck you.

After flying for a while Leif stops his flying carpet, launching himself and Vi into a tavern in Koridai. Leif lands on his feet like it's nothing while Vi faceplants.

Leif: I've gAHt to sit and shit.

Vi: You'd better shit fast.

Tanjerin (Droolik the Drunk Guy): Where you headed, partner?

Zelda: We're trying to find Link.

Leif: And beat Ganon['s ç̴̡̹̳̣̲͇̝͚͌̔*̶͖͇̬͇̘̝̳͚̖̙̞̝̙̀̽͒̈̉̾̽͒̇̋̚c̶̹͓̳̔̉͊k̸̪̅̕]

Vi: What.

Tanjerin: Don't fuuuck him, feeeed him-*chomps something* mmmm-this!

Vi: What is it?

Tanjerin: Raw meat!

Vi:...

Tanjerin falls over and dies.

Vi:...

Leif: SalmonellAH! *Leaves for the bathroom.*

Vi: *Sighs*

As Leif takes a dump, Kabbu is exploring around Koridai.

Kabbu: Oh boy, I can't wait to find Ganon!...How am I gonna find Ganon?

Finds a pile of bombs

Kabbu: Oh boy! Free bombs!

Kabbu runs around Koridai throwing bombs everywhere as the sounds of screaming and also Soulja Boy's "I'm So Fresh You Can Suck My Nuts" play.

Five minutes later, back at the castle.

Bianca: Did you bring pizza?

Elizant: Nay.

Bianca: Corn?

Elizant: Nay.

Bianca: How about nougat?

a horse: Neigh.

Bianca: Dammit, do you have any food?

Elizant: At my house, yes.

Bianca: Can you bring some?

Elizant:...I live on a separate landmass.

Bianca: How'd you get here so fast then?

Elizant: Because I thought you wanted to h-ah, never mind.

Bianca: Well, I'm hungry and have nothing to do but sit and talk with Duke Onkled. And also Impa.

Chompy (Impa): (Is Asleep) HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK-SHWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-BLBLBLBLLBLBLBLBLBBLB-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK-HWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-SHAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW-BLBLBLLBLBLB-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-MIMIMIMIMIMIMIMIMIMIMI-SHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HOOOOONKKKKK-BIDIBIDIBIDIBIDIBIDI

Elizant: I'm sorry but I guess Duke Onkled-(Sees something behind Bianca) TRAITOR!

Bianca: (Turns around) What's-OAH!

They both see Hector scarfing down a Lean Pocket that was still in the freezer (which he left open), and just stand as he turns to look back at them. He swallows the last of the Lean Pocket worriedly before looking around for something to do or say.

Hector:...Lean Pockets♩!

Bianca: (Rage slowly boiling inside of her)...fffffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!

Bianca's FUUCK echoes out so loudly it even reaches Koridai, catching Vi's attention as she and Leif walk around.

Vi:...Father?

Leif: Enough of that, Zelda. We have to focus on finding Ganon.

Bianca's cry causes a rockslide nearby, where one boulder lands on Leif and reveals a door with a sign above it saying "Front Entrance to Ganon's Lair".

Vi: Great! :D

Leif: My legs...

Vi: Walk it off.

Hoaxe (Ganon) holds up a chalupa whilst sitting on a massive pile of food.

Hoaxe: You are my dinner! (Bites the chalupa before spasming in disgust.)

Hoaxe: Chalupa! You must DIE!!!

Kabbu: Hey, Ganon!

Hoaxe: Hmm?

Hoaxe looks to his left to see Kabbu standing and smiling like a tool.

Hoaxe: Link??? How'd you find me?

70% of Koridai is a smoldering crater.

Kabbu: Oops! Got carried away!

Kabbu: Now! (Pulls out the Nerf gun) Give me back Koridai and Hyrule's food or else!

Hoaxe: Or else what, butt face?

Vi: Or else we'll join in!

Hoaxe looks to his right to see Vi and Leif, standing perhaps less goofily.

Hoaxe: Zelda?! (Sees Leif) No!!! Shriveled old turd!!!

Leif: You. Must. Die.

Kabbu: You can't win, Ganon! Not with my gun!

Hoaxe: (Pulls out a gun) GOOD OLD AMERICAN MMMMMMAGNUM!

Kabbu: Oh, shoot!

Hoaxe: Okie dokie! >:3

Vi: Hey, Ganon!

Hoaxe: What?

Vi: Go long! (Throws the raw meat at Ganon)

Hoaxe: Hah! (Eats the meat whole like a dog)...(His stomach growls)...Ohhh...More food poisoning...burrrrrrrrrnns...

Leif: (Punches Hoaxe in the balls.)

Hoaxe: AIEEE!

Vi: (Grabs Hoaxe's head and starts kneeing him in the face)

Hoaxe: OW!

Kabbu: (Holds up his Smart Sword) My Smart Sword! (Stabs Hoaxe with his Smart Sword)

Hoaxe: NO!

Then Vi, Kabbu, and Hoaxe just pummel Leif all together. Eventually he stops squirming, clearly dead. Vi, Kabbu, and Leif just stand there, looking at Hoaxe's lifeless body.

Then, the balloon shaped like Fry's head inflates to colossal size and carries Hoaxe's lair into the sky, causing the stolen food to start raining all over the land. Meanwhile, the Kirby's Dream Land credits theme but sung by Morshu starts playing.

As the group floats over, Crisbee (Harbanno the Baker) and the Mayor of Defiant Root (Mayor Kravendish) are standing together talking.

Crisbee: My cakes are gone...

Mayor: (To me, the writer) This is inaccurate, you know.

A giant cake lands on the Mayor.

Mayor: Dick.

The group also float over Fry and his shop, causing a pile of bananas to land in right by it.

Fry: (Pokes his head out of the shop) Ooh! Bananas! (Grabs the pile and brings it into his shop)

They also fly over the Mushroom Kingdom, A.K.A. Hallownest, as Tiso (Mario) and Quirrel (Luigi) look up at them.

Tiso: Luigi, look!

A bundle of spaghetti falls from the sky as Quirrel goes "Spaghetti!", landing onto Tiso's face.

Quirrel: For real this time!

Vi, Kabbu, and Leif laugh cheerily as they spread the food back to everywhere it belongs.

Kabbu: I'm so happy! No one will be hungry again!

Vi: Not quite but still! Only good things are happening!

Vi completely ignores how the food they're dropping includes gigantic bagels that fall onto and destroy buildings in New York.

Leif: I cannot wait to see His Majesty's smiling face whe-

Ganon's Lair crashes down onto Hyrule Castle, obliterating it.

Bianca: Oah! How are we okay?

Elizant: (In Mario's voice) Pizza da heck outta me!

Hector: (Raises his arm weakly while on the floor) Oooohhhh...

Vi, Kabbu, and Leif flop out of the lair onto what remains of the floor.

Bianca: You pieces of shit! I-(Sees the food) You saved my dinner!!!

King Harkinian kisses Zelda on the forehead.

Vi: *Laughs*

King Harkinian kisses Link on the forehead.

Kabbu: D'awww!

King Harkinian is about to kiss Gwonam on the forehead.

Leif: Gimme some sugar!

Bianca: Later.

Leif: ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡° )

Elizant: HEY!

Bianca: Thank you so much! I was about to eat Duke Onkled!

Hector: (Gets up with an arm that was visibly chewed off) It's true! :3

Bianca: Now it's finally time for dinner.

Kabbu: Oh boy! I'm so hungry, I could eat Ganon's head!

Kabbu: (Takes out Ganon's decapitated head) OMNOMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM OMNOM OMNOM OMNOMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM NOM NOM NOM OM OMNOMNOM NOM OMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM NOMNOM NOM OMNOM OMNOM OMNOMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOM OMNOMNOMOMNOMNOM OMNOMNOM OMNOM OMNOM OMNOM OMNOM OMNOMNOMNOM

Bianca: Cool. (Grabs a burrito) Hmmm...I wonder where's the SuS?

Everybody Else: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Kabbu: Ha! Ha! Ha! (A bomb falls out of his pocket) Oops.

[what-the-floofin]

So how do baby taurs work for the equitaurs and cervitaurs in your stuff?

Oh that's a good one actually - lots to talk about! Too much for one post, but gotta start somewhere. Enjoy some messy micro scribbles peppered throughout. They were originally very very tiny so, pardon blurriness.

I've got my Taurs running overall pretty similar to equine cycles and gestations - meaning they are what you call 'long-day triggered' by the spring and summer seasons.

(Though they do cycle throughout the year, just at slower rates and less consistently over cooler seasons)

This goes for the cervitaurs too - rather than using the shorter gestation of their deer alikes - as they and their foals are a bit bigger and more complex to deal with. Which also goes to suggest that twins/multiples are not a frequent occurrence for cervitaurs in comparison to actual deer, and inherently poses as much danger as it does for equines instead. Possible, but high risk and incredibly demanding.

So, you're looking at an 11 month gestation on average, and typically starting in a mid-spring to late-summer window. Which places most taurs at being born early-spring to mid-summer. It's most uncommon to be winter born, but not weird tbh.

Foals are super awkward, there's no getting around that, and in the first year they have a ridiculous growth rate when compared to other sentient creatures of similar lifespans.

These things are weeds - the difference from one day old to three months old is phenomenal alone. They are, however, cooked a little further along than what you'd be comparing to for a newborn human. They're able to support themselves enough to avoid outright injury (think like a 3-4 month old baby), but gaining actual control of all those limbs takes a bit more time. The equine half however would be a touch undercooked for a horse. Just physically, in size. No worries about comparative internal developments, that's all good and ready to go.

So they're typically gonna spend shy of their first month feeding and sleeping, practicing rolling up, sitting and limb coordination to build strength for self-standing. If mama has places to be, that baby is getting carried.

I also absolutely subscribe to the idea of arms being naturally held close to torso prior to having balance and coordination. It would support them a lot! Then it becomes a self-soothing gesture seen in the anxious, and an instinctive positional response when badly startled. Tuck in!

By three months you can expect them to be racing on their little stilt legs - albeit still with the occasional wobble and spill. And wowee did that happen fast when you think about it.

While the zoomies are a lot, they're balanced out by the fact that so much oncoming growth means foals crash nap very frequently. These buggers sleep a lot. It's go hard and sleep hard on endless rotation. Play, snack, nap, rinse and repeat.

This accelerated growth races away throughout their first year, and then drops right back into something a bit more reasonable - at least when you're considering it from the human perspective!

Yet in comparison to how they first started out, it's practically snail paced.

I'm meaning, you look at the size of a 3 month old horse foal, and that's the closest comparison to a 2 year old taur foal in body. Every 'horse foal month' thereafter starts guiding the next 'taur foal year' visual until you hit that yearling horse look for a taur when they're 10-11 years old. Then by that point, they've reached most of their full leg length, and the next 10 years is focused on finishing the bulking out of their frame.

(click to enlarge I hope) - Featuring my lass Thalo here haha

By rule of thumb I just have both equid and humanoid aspects grow in relative balance to each other, lanky stages and all. From the human perspective, the humanoid half grows crazy fast at first and then becomes comparatively similar. From the horse perspective, the equine half is crazy slow and always is. It would also give credit to having a higher physical durability than their animal counterparts. More time was spent growing!

It's worth noting that a lot of perceived 'weirdness' only comes from trying to compare them purely 1 to 1 with either horse, deer or human kids. Taurs are their own thing though! And nature's most consistent attitude is to Find What Works and Do it. No matter how wack, if it works it's used.

So, a rapid starting growth tapered into a much slower rate once they're stabilised and running was just the path that worked best for this Taur survival. Keep it simple!

There's always more to cover, but this is chunky enough for now. Whew!

[aurianavaloria]

KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! ���)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

================================================

“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

================

“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

================

Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

[rainydaydream-gal18]

hi! I don't know if you take requests, but if you do may I request a Tech x f!Jedi reader where they sort of acknowledged their feelings for one another during the era of the clone wars, but never really acted upon them. then after order 66 happens, they somehow reunite and ofc Tech is super happy to see her again, then on pabu his brother have to convince him to act and kiss her since neither of them know when or if they will see one another again, and he does?

thanks!

(Bad Batch) Tech x Reader: Ghost

Author's Note: Consider this a late Tech Tuesday! Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,108

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, kiss

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tech tilted his head to steal a sideways glance at Hunter through his goggles, brows furrowing over his narrowed eyes as his mind considered a million and one possibilities.

"One might say I have," he answered cryptically, not wasting any more time before pursuing the figure.

It was evident that Hunter was puzzled by the reply, but he knew better than to ignore that look in his squadmate's eyes. He reached out with his senses in hopes of noticing anything in particular.

But even he has difficulty finding something in a bustling square when he hasn't the slightest clue of what that something is.

Tech was determined to track down his target. It was only a fleeting glimpse... But he was sure he'd seen it. His brown eyes scanned the crowd of faces as he shouldered his way through in the most polite way he could in such a hurry. A chorus of, "excuse me"s and "pardon"s left his lips. He even had to utter a full apology after stepping on a bystander's foot.

Then, he saw it again.

This time, he wouldn't lose sight of it. His eyes remained locked on it- on her.

It was her, he realized.

She had joined a small crowd in the main square to observe the festival performers.

She wore dark clothes- very different from her robes.

But of course, Tech thought. She was in hiding. Obviously, she would have to protect her identity after Order 66 occurred.

Tech looked over his shoulder to see Hunter with widened eyes. He'd finally seen you too. They both locked gazes and nodded, mutually deciding to approach with caution.

For once in his life, Tech wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. After all, it wouldn't be unheard of for your instincts to kick in, especially towards clones.

By the time he reached you, he was even less sure.

Hunter took the liberty of greeting you simply and in a light-hearted way in hopes that you'd be put at ease.

"Fancy meeting you here," he rumbled.

Tech's eyes flickered back to you, watching as you turned around. The way your face lit up at the realization of who it was warmed Tech's heart. Your smile grew wide, and your eyes began to glisten with tears that welled up.

He waited, even as you threw your arms around Hunter in a gleeful embrace, to see if any fear or uneasiness registered in your expression. Your body language toward the squad leader showed no indication of anything other than relief and familiarity.

You pulled back from Hunter, sharing a meaningful look with your friend, before turning to Tech.

"Oh, Tech." you practically launched yourself into his arms, and he took a second to process the action before tightening the embrace. "Do you know how much I've missed you?" you whispered into his neck.

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your lips against his skin as you uttered the most sorrowed question in a barely-audible voice.

She's here, his inner voice kept saying. She's here. She's here in my arms. Nothing is going to harm her. I will never allow it.

Tech squeezed tighter, swearing to himself that he'd never let you go again. It was duty that had separated you during the Clone Wars. But now that the Republic had fallen, this duty no longer existed.

The embrace was long, but not nearly long enough. You pulled away, wiping the wetness from your cheeks with a sleeve, sniffling.

"I knew it," you said shakily, your voice breaking off into a laugh. "I sensed you when I landed. After the Order, part of me hoped beyond hope... But I wasn't sure I'd find you either way."

"Small Galaxy, I s'pose," Hunter joked. "Still, how'd you know we weren't going to..."

"Blast me to smithereens?" you finished with a grimace. "Well, this planet doesn't seem to be occupied by the Empire. I figured if you were here, you weren't likely to be under the influence of chips."

"Still," Tech spoke up again, meeting your gaze. "We could have in theory been doing recon work for the Empire. Hunting undercover. "

"I guess that was a chance I was willing to take," you said, your own gaze unwavering as it bore into his soul. A flood gate of memories opened up as he looked own into your eyes.

Suddenly, he saw you on the battlefield, standing right at his side with your lightsaber in hand, deflecting blasts. He saw you in the cockpit of the Marauder, your features shadowed beautifully by the light of stars streaking past in hyperspace. He saw you seated on a crate, the sleeve of your robe rolled up to reveal a wound that he tended to with a bacta patch. He felt you press against him as the two of you made your way through a dark cave back-to-back.

He saw your downcast expression as you waved the squad farewell after being transferred to another system to aid a fellow Jedi in the War effort.

"Hey! Look who it is!" The booming voice of Wrecker sounded over the commotion of the festival. You looked over to see him approaching with a small girl on his shoulders, and Crosshair in tow. Another soldier was following not too far behind.

"Wrecker! Crosshair!" you greeted. "Am I glad to see you!"

Wrecker set the girl down to hug you properly, and Crosshair begrudgingly accepted an embrace from you. The girl was watching you curiously. The other soldier also seemed intrigued by your familiarity with the squad.

Finally, Hunter continued with introductions. "Omega, meet ______, an ally and good friend of the squad."

He didn't dare use the word "jedi" in a crowd, not even in a place as safe as Pabu.

You hadn't expected to see her face light up in realization, as if she knew all about you.

"And this is Omega," Hunter continued. "It's...a long story. In short, she's-"

"Our sister!" Wrecker finished.

You couldn't help the awed smile as you greeted her properly. "Wow, it's wonderful to meet you, Omega."

She was beaming up at you as she stepped forward to shake your hand. "You too. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?" you shot Wrecker a humorously suspicious look. "All good things, I hope."

"Mostly," he guffawed.

"This here is Echo," Hunter said, motioning to the other soldier. He seemed to know who you were already because he saluted with his scomp arm. Touched by the gesture, you saluted back. "He joined the squad shortly before the War ended."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," he said.

"Likewise," you replied.

Tech had been unusually silent the entire time, and you found yourself glancing his way, hoping to get a read on what might be going on inside that mind of his. His gaze was already locked on you, and his lips were pursed, a sign that he did have loads to say. The sight nearly made you laugh.

Same ol' Tech.

The group naturally made its way out of the crowd, heading for the beach so that you could all talk openly and get caught up. Each of the squad took turns recounting in their own words some of the adventures that took place after Order 66. They were beyond curious to know the events that transpired in your escape and evasion of the Empire in the following months.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were home.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"You can't stay, can you?"

The question wasn't wholly unexpected. Hunter's heightened senses allowed him to see more than what was around him. Sometimes he saw into you just a little too well.

You let out a sigh, looking out over the perfect view of the island from your spot on the porch. It was almost painful to confirm Hunter's suspicion when you were gazing at blue water shining in the sun, waiting for the rest of the squad to return to the neighborhood after their work was done for the day.

After over a month on Pabu, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

But the fact of the matter was, there was some unfinished business to take care of.

"I need to go away for a while," you admitted.

"Are you sure?" Hunter asked, brows raised. "You're safe here."

"I know." You closed your eyes, breathing the salty air into your lungs peacefully. "But there are others who aren't. I can sense it. They're lost and confused, and...afraid. They need me."

He nodded gravely. As always, he respected your judgment. He honored your sense of duty to others, despite his concern. If there was anyone who understood, it was him.

"I'll be back," you told him. "In a little while. I will return to you all."

"We'll be waiting."

. . . . . . . . . . .

Breaking the news to the others wasn't something you'd ever want to do again. Omega and Wrecker were downcast. Crosshair voiced his disapproval in his own way, flicking a toothpick onto the ground. Echo wasn't happy to see you go, but he seemed to understand. Duty to his brothers would soon to call him away also as it had before, or so he'd told you.

What you hadn't expected was Tech to fall silent. His expression didn't exactly betray frustration or displeasure, but you'd always known him to express emotion differently. After all, as you'd come to find out from the others, your departure from the squad during the Clone Wars had affected him more than he'd let on to you.

Just when you thought that maybe Tech's feelings didn't go as far as you once thought, he broke the silence.

"Leaving the safe haven of Pabu is most unwise."

The entire squad froze at Tech's version of an outburst. It wasn't a shout. It was controlled, but each word was laced with a tinge of bitterness- something you'd rarely ever heard.

At that, suddenly the others felt the need to excuse themselves, for one reason or another. Wrecker out of the blue remembered that he and Omega needed to go see Shep about...something. Echo was adamant about joining them. Hunter excused himself to finish a household chore. And Crosshair just up and walked away without a word.

When just you and Tech remained, you responded to his statement calmly.

"I know, it's a risk. But it's one I have to take. I'd hoped you would understand."

"Forgive me," he said curtly, turning his face away, putting his chiseled profile in full view. "I do understand."

Your heart broke at the sight. "Tech..."

He faced you again, an unreadable expression crossing his features. "I understand perfectly."

Before you could say anything more, he walked away.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Tech paused tinkered adamantly with the device in his hands.

He felt like an adolescent. Like some young cadet.

When Crosshair had gone his own way, seemingly lost to the squad, Tech found a way to rationalize it. When Echo departed from the squad for a time, Tech processed the shift in his own way.

Adapting was the name of the game. Tech always felt that finding a way to adapt to changing scenarios would mean a higher probability of survival for himself and the squad as a whole. Rather than wasting time trying to change things according to his own wishes, or longing for things to be different, he found the rate of success would increase immensely if he simply, "rolled with the punches."

So, why did he act contrary to that belief just now? Why didn't he simply shake your hand without so much as a nod and let you continue on your way?

Perhaps it was the environment. The peaceful planet of Pabu, where the squad lived out its days safe and sound- having long since abandoned the life of soldiers and mercenaries- brought about a softer, gentler existence. Survival was no longer something that the squad struggled with.

The lack of a need to adapt perhaps left room for Tech's true emotions to shine through- a luxury previously unheard of in his mind.

"Let me guess," Crosshair's coiled voice interrupted his train of thought. "You didn't tell her how you feel...again."

Ah, fantastic. This was just what Tech needed at the moment. A dose of his brother's difficult and unyielding character.

He adjusted his goggles, resuming his tinkering as if he was unbothered. "I fail to see how that is relevant."

"You know, if you tell her, she might stay."

Tech paused. "I do not see why she would. She had made it quite clear that her mind is made up."

"Is it now?" Crosshair leaned against the doorway of Tech's quarters, crossing his arms. "And how do you know she won't change it?"

Tech didn't reply. Perhaps his brother would give up and leave.

"She deserves to know."

...But of course not.

"What makes you say that?" Tech looked up.

"Because it's the sort of thing people do." Crosshair placed a toothpick between his teeth. "When they care about someone, they tell them. They never know when they'll get the chance to...or if."

That one sent Tech's mind reeling.

Regret. As much as he tried to distance himself from it, as it was another hindrance to adapting to the situation at hand...he knew it would be something that he'd be faced with if he left things the way he had...

But telling you how he felt? Tech wondered how he could even begin to do so. He was eloquent in matters of machinery. Science. Technology. Those were languages he spoke fluently.

Telling you that he cared for you?

Loved you?

That was a foreign concept entirely.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The time of your departure had come all too soon. The squad was gathered around your ship on a rainy afternoon to see you off.

You'd be back soon, you kept reiterating to each of them. Tech watched as you hugged Hunter, and the leader wished you well. Wrecker picked you up and spun you around. Omega, who'd come to admire you so, wrapped her arms around you in a heartfelt hug. Crosshair once more allowed an embrace, bringing his hand up to awkwardly pat your back. Echo, in his fashion, saluted you before you laughed and embraced him also.

Tell her how you feel. Tell her how you feel. Tech kept telling himself that over and over again. It didn't seem to make his next move any easier. Even with the hours and hours of thought he put into it, the task of telling you that he cared for you still seemed monumental. Impossible even.

But his brother's words rang true.

He had to let you know. Somehow.

You were standing in front of him, concern etched on your face. It was evident that his last interaction with you left you unsure as to what his behavior would be. Tech hated that he'd caused that uncertainty.

He opened his mouth, but for once in his entire existence, nothing came out. There was no spew of information. No explanation rolling effortlessly off his lips. Not even a peep.

You were waiting patiently for him to get his bearings- though your uneasiness seemed to increase.

His brain shorted out, and then suddenly everything became crystal clear. If he couldn't begin to tell you how he felt, perhaps it would be best if he didn't tell you.

Tech's resolve cemented, and he closed the distance between you with a single step. Your eyes widened as he stepped into your space, and your hand came up to rest on his chest. When it registered that there was no force behind it, that you were not trying to push him away, Tech placed a hand on each of your shoulders and leaned in.

Your expression melted before his very eyes. With no further thought to your surroundings, you leaned in the rest of the way.

Your thoughts were racing as Tech's lips pressed warmly against your own.

The determined look in his eyes had made your heart flutter. The way he'd so decidedly stepped into your space, how his hands held you in such a way that you doubted anything could move you from that spot... It was captivating.

You recalled the time when thoughts of kissing Tech were the sort of thing that used to keep you up at night.

During the War, your familial affection for the squad would have been questionable in the eyes of the Council, if they'd known. But your attachment to Tech in particular would have been considered dangerous. Absolutely forbidden.

But love is a force of its own.

You were certain of that more than ever, with Tech tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his arms sliding around your form to hold you tighter as the rain pelted you both from above.

What began as a fervid gesture rendered something softer, sweeter in the end. His lips brushed yours tenderly one last time, feather-light, as if savoring the moment, before pulling away.

You tugged him back before he got too far, holding him in an embrace as you buried your face in his chest.

"Stay."

There was no edge to his tone with the request. It broke your heart all the same to hear it.

"I can't," you whispered.

"Perhaps I can accompany you, then." There was a waver in his exhale from the chill of the rain.

"There's no need. Besides, I'll be back faster than you can say, 'Marauder.'"

"I highly doubt that you will return that quickly."

You chuckled, reaching up to wipe some of the drops from his goggles. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"This. I needed it."

The two of you parted, and Wrecker whistled jokingly. Crosshair gave Tech a nod of approval, and Echo was shaking his head in amusement. Hunter merely looked at you with a raised brow, and suddenly your shoes became very fascinating to you.

"I'll see you all soon."

"Keep us updated, will ya?" Hunter asked, giving you a nudge.

"Absolutely. Bye, everyone!" you gave one last salute before boarding your ship. As you engaged the take-off, Tech received a variety of shoulder-pats and nudges of sympathy from the squad.

And when your ship disappeared on the horizon, he found himself glued to the spot for several minutes.

"Don't worry," Hunter assured him. "She's strong. Skilled too."

"I am aware," Tech acknowledged. Another moment of silence passed. "Her engine sounded strange. Perhaps I should comm her."

Hunter chuckled, clapping his hand on Tech's shoulder. "Knock yourself out. I'm sure she'd be glad to hear from you."

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hello! I just finished reading all your writing.. i feel like your characterisation of coop is just so good!

Lately i’ve been fixated on how Cooper would feel about a plus sized partner.. (definitely not just because I’m plus sized myself)

Part of me feels his postwar ghoul self would be feral (pardon the pun) for a woman with a soft squishy body, especially a soft tummy and ass he can sink his fingers into, because someone like that would be so rare in the wastelands, and because it would be so different to his own physique

(Anon, I have a secret to share with you before we even get into headcanon territory; I'm a size 14-16ish, myself, so I definitely relate. I try to keep my reader-insert characters as nondescript as is reasonable in order to keep them accessible, but honestly? Every single character I've ever written is fat, or at least midsized. I feel like my use of words like "soft" and "plush" to describe them, plus references to tummies and bellies, might expose me a bit on that front. Thanks for reading and thanks for the ask!)

Prewar!Cooper Howard just loves women in general, all shapes and sizes. Big fan. He appreciates the female form in every one of its many variations. Back home, he knew plenty of bigger girls, curvier girls, and dated several before he met and fell head over heels for Barb. Once the two of them move to California, there's a noticeable decline in the variation of body types around him, and while he finds the women around him beautiful as well, he also finds himself sort of missing the higher concentration of softer ladies.

After she gives birth to Janey, Barb is pretty self-conscious about her body, but Cooper is quick to reassure her that she is just as beautiful as she was before (even moreso to him since she's grown softer in such nice places, frankly, but he doesn't think that's a proper thing to say out loud). She experiences a lot of pressure to be conventionally thin in her role as an executive, and while he supports her ambitions and what she wants to do with herself, it makes him feel terrible to see her so down on her body sometimes when he loves her (and it) so much.

Post-divorce, I think that a bigger partner, especially someone comfortable in their looks, their personal style, would be a welcome change to him. Like I said in my response to the question about him with a partner with body hair, I think he'd enjoy being with someone who wasn't so "L.A. perfect"; more authentic, at least to him.

He really loves a soft belly on a woman, and it's a treat that's been denied to him for so long. Of course, his favorite place to cum is inside you in whatever form he can get it, but he also likes to spurt all over your breasts and tummy, the sight of the mess cooling on your skin enough to get him going again more often than not. It drives him doubly crazy if you play in it a bit.

Also likes a good tit fuck. Likes it even more if you've got big enough breasts to do it while you sit on the floor in front of him. Getting to smoke a cigarette and sit back and watch you jerk him off with your tits is high up on his list of favorite ways to relax after a stressful day, especially if you tease the head of his cock with your lips and tongue.

Finds big nipples/big areolas very sexy; if you've got either (and definitely if you've got both), you might end up having to fend him off of your chest every once in a while with as often as he'll like to suck and lick and nip the poor things until they're all puffy and sore.

Enjoys using his ability to still pick you up and toss you around as a way to show off to you. It makes him feel virile and strong, so I hope you don't mind a little manhandling from time to time...

The Ghoul is always very pleasantly surprised to see anyone with some substance to them, physically; it's not necessarily that fat or midsize people don't exist, but the incidence of folks who are malnourished, stunted, and emaciated has certainly increased as the centuries have crept by.

He has always been a fairly lean and wiry guy, and life has given him more and more hard edges, so he adores a plush partner; round face, full lips, soft overall features. Big, soft hair, even. It's such a fascinating contrast to himself, to everything around him. The Wasteland is so harsh and strips every last bit of life it can out of every last thing that inhabits it, so to see someone so vivacious and supple...you are spellbinding to him before he even gets to touch you, to say the least.

When he does get to touch you, he wants to be respectful, trying his hardest to control his urge to rip your clothes away and grip your supple skin in his bare hands. He's trying so hard to reconnect with the more tender, gentlemanly part of himself, if it even still exists. But you seemingly have no idea how wild you drive him, how badly he wants to pin you down and feel your warm, pliable form beneath his, kind and sweetly flirty as ever despite how thin his self control is wearing. It's not long before the feeling he's trying to ignore consumes you both and he becomes intimately familiar with just how soft your body really is.

The man already had a breeding kink long ago, but it comes back with a vengeance if he meets the right person. He already finds himself drawn to your wide hips and thick thighs, but once he's fallen for you, once he's decided that you're his and he wants you to be his forever, they take on a whole new light. All he can think about his how good those wide hips would feel in his hands as he pumps you full, how beautiful your little tummy would look adorned with a baby bump.

Big fan of thigh-fucking, especially if you're not particularly rad-resistant; its a nice way for him to put you on your back, your legs on his shoulders the way he likes, pumping away at you in a way that feels natural without having to worry about making you incredibly sick or hurting you if he can't pull out in time. Or if he produces a lot of precum, which he is prone to. You both love and hate it, the head of him bumping and teasing against your clit depending on the angle, but never stimulating you enough to make you cum yourself. Fortunately, he's quite faithful about planting his head between your thighs and finishing you off once he's done.

If you are rad resistant, he still loves it; in fact, he loves it even more because he can fuck your thighs until he's about to finish, and instead of coating your stomach and mound, he can shove his weeping cock inside you at the last second and breed you, the sudden, wet heat around him making him cum even harder. Best of both worlds.

[olivianyx]

How do you ignore 3d? Like what mindset allows you to truly not care about it and keep going? I've been trying to find a way that changes my perspective on it fully.

Hey, sorry for the late reply. I'll brief it with my perspective.

(I may use vulgar language, so pardon)

So I know my imagination is the only reality. What I assume, think, focus on, visualize,& tell myself will be reflected in the out reality. Suppose I want an ice cream, I imagine eating an ice cream in my head. And that same day, I eat an ice cream in the outer reality. Why? I decided I'm going to eat it after school.

This 3d, I think it as a prostitute. It only reproduces what I put inside (4d). So I only need her to give me what I put inside (thinking it in my imagination) and she gives me the baby (reflection of 4d) and I'm the desire. I put the desire (imagine) in my 4d, and it reproduces in the 3d. So in my perspective, I rail the 4d in all the positions possible till I'm satisfied, and she reproduces my baby in the 3d.

If an unusual circumstance happens, I imagine that it doesn't exist and whatever's happening is in my favour. I go back to my imagination, whenever something happens. Whether favourable or unfavorable, I go 'bruhh, thank you! I have what I want already wtf??!!' And I move on.

Whatever's around me is my old story. I only focus on the new story. The 4d is the source, not the 3d. So if I find myself getting anxious, I immediately ground myself and affirm or imagine what ever I want is happening. I've did this a countless times, I've started doing this by default 😭 every time I go 'bitch I already have my desires, wtf? I'm literally living my dream life, I'm so grateful' (that's how I talk to myself lol 🗿)

I don't actually ignore it, I live in the 3d. I enjoy myself, I live as ifi have my desires, and I do 😽 but when any circumstances occur, I ignore it. I just focus on what I think, imagine and tell myself.

I hope this helps 😭🤍

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Don't leave me... I'll stay (Loki)

Summary: After an argument causes a rift between Loki and Y/N, the day is spent ignoring the other until Y/N decides to spend the night away from Loki.

Warning: Angst? i dunno what else to put in but angst eheheh. long maybe? this is a very long fic eheheh. ohh and another thing is that this may be prone to mistakes as i dont have anybody to proof this so... ehehhe

Note: eheheeh the liar has finally posted what was promised, precisely a month late or later. eheheh sorry to those who waited, school has taken a lot of my time, I barely open my laptop to work and im rarely here anymore but i've got until the monday off so lets see what i'll do with that eheheh

The context is vague, I apologize but i am complete rubbish at this. at everything really, including writing so eheheh. To those brave souls that braved this whole thing, Thank you! so very deeply, from the bottom of my heart for even showing the slightest bit of interest in my rubbish ideas. Hope you like it and im stopping myself from going any further and prolonging this intro ehehhe, Enjoy!😊

‘No Loki! Just because I have this disease, doesn’t mean you have the right to keep me locked up like some sort of china. I am able to do just about everything I could before I told you and you have no right telling me what I can or cannot do’ you countered his argument but being stubborn, neither of you relented nor ceased.

You were now second guessing whether it was right or not, telling him about the chronic illness you were diagnosed with, but you knew that you did the right thing if you wanted this relationship to have a good foundation. The reaction however… was not how you thought things would go.

It was simple at first. Barely noticeable and could have been mistaken as added doting to his already caring nature with you but overtime, it became more and more obvious how he was setting up these restrictions you never would have agreed on. It only grew ridiculous, and you would have allowed the passive ones, but this was the final straw.

Your patience had worn thin over the entirety of the argument however, as comments grew more rash and the final ‘disapproval’ of your oncoming task was remarked, you snapped. He had no right to restrict you of activities and tasks he thinks are too much for your condition and it only insulted and hurt you to think that he thought you so frail and weak that even simple chores were too much.

‘I am going on this mission, whether you “approve” or not, because just telling you was out of courtesy. I refuse to be told of my restrictions by anyone besides myself. I would have understood your concerns if the situation were more grave, but for the love of God, it’s a simple data extraction.’ You exasperated, growing tired of fighting about something you know he won’t fold on.

‘In an abandoned Hydra base!’ he pointed out, choosing not to acknowledge how you outright dismissed his concern, no matter how much it hurt. ‘You know of the dangers that lurk in those retched lairs and often times there are still those who patrol the premises. You do remember when Rogers and Romanoff were attacked during their little escapade in Camp Leigh, do you not?’

‘Of course, I remember, I’m not a moron’ you snide, glaring daggers at the raven-haired god and you were just about to justify how Barnes was going with you however the comment he let out was the final pull on the thinned thread.

‘Well, you certainly are acting like one’ he mumbled without thinking, turning away. He thought it was low enough so you wouldn’t hear but he thought wrong.

‘I beg your pardon?!’ you all but screeched out of fury. Loki flinched before he turned at the high pitch and fury, he heard from you. He saw the outraged his comment caused in your eyes. The fire that burned in those beautiful orbs of yours was terrifying however, what truly frightened him was how you took a breath, calming yourself and before he could so much as apologize, rolled your eyes and turned away.

‘I’m done’ you raised your hands in surrender, turning your back to him.

‘What do you mean you’re done?’ he asked as fear of losing you threatened his being. You mean everything to him and just the very thought of losing you and him being the very reason you were gone… it opened a holocaust in his mind.

‘This conversation, I am done. I’m ending it before either of us say something or does more damage that there already is’ you yield, busying yourself with tidying up the files you had splayed out all over the floor.

Relief flooded his senses before guilt quickly bore fruit.

He watched as you packed up your work and strode out of the room. It took him a minute, but he followed you out and once he finally reached the living room, he met the sight of you slipping on your trainers and throwing your gadgets, wallet and keys in your bag before moving to the door and slamming it shut.

He stood frozen in the threshold of the hall as he processed what happened. All he wanted was to keep you safe. Never did he think that things would go this bad.

You stormed out of the flat and went to the compound for the briefing you had with Bucky. It was scheduled for tomorrow, but you just could not stay in the flat, not with him, not at the moment. You needed a cool head and quite frankly, yours was blazing.

You called Barnes to reschedule, which he agreed to but before he could ask why, you had already hung up. You needed to calm down, seriously.

You took a scenic route around the city before heading to the facility. You parked at the car park and turned off the vehicle before you let your head fall on the steering wheel. Loki’s’ words really stung but in his own way, you knew he meant well. He loved you but it felt demeaning to be confined to one place or to be babied. You are a grown woman; this disease may affect you in some way but you wouldn’t let it define and control your life like its slowly doing to Loki.

You took your phone to look at the time and was greeted with lock screen background of you and Loki cuddling, fast asleep. Someone from the team took the picture to spite Loki but you found it adorable and set it on your phone. It brought a small grin to your lips until you got a message from Barnes saying which conference room was being used for the quick briefing. You sighed, taking your bag before exiting the car and heading in the building.

The briefing was quick. Only about the layout of the base, where to go and what to take. You were in and out in possibly ten minutes, but you longed for it to be longer. You didn’t want to go home yet so you stayed for a chat with the others, talking to Wanda about her relationship, discussing with Bruce the project he was working on before you went and left with a goodbye, heading for the shops for dinner prep and a bit of groceries, taking your time in each aisle to pass the minute until you really had to go home.

Loki had texted Thor after you left, asking if you were at the compound. It took a bit for his brother to respond but eventually he replied with ‘Barnes says she’s on her way for a meeting’. He felt relieved to at least know where you are, knowing you were safe and not alone somewhere. 

Hours passed until he heard your keys on the front door, the metal snake keychain giving a distinct clink with the rest of your keys. He looked to the door from where he sat on the living room, watching as you trudged in the brown bags of groceries. You kicked the door closed and placed the bags in the kitchen bench, never sparing him a look. He could sense that you didn’t want to be around him, he could always sense it. He’s had years of experience with being ignored nor wanted. He knew when to take his leave, so he left for the bedroom, never sparing you a sound of his departure.

You saw Loki on the chaise when you walked in. You blatantly ignored him, but he was on the couch. The only indication you got that he left was when you heard the bedroom door close. You were fixing everything you had bought to the cupboards and the pantry when you just heard the soft click of the door closing. You felt bad with how distant you two were being but what stung more is that he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as you that he had to leave. You wanted to make things right. You were thinking of things to say as you put away the vegetables, but he seemed to want the opposite.

You put everything away and started making supper, finishing an hour or two later. Loki still hasn’t left the bedroom, though you did hear the shower run a few minutes prior, so you ate by yourself, wallowing in your thoughts about the mission and Loki.

Your bowl was half gone when he emerged from the room and moved to where you were eating on the table. You had prepared him a bowl, which now sat at the other end of the table. You weren’t talking to each other, but you still care and love him. The soup had gone a bit cold, but it was there, and he sat and ate it anyways.

Both of you stayed silent, neither breaking the silence as the tension grew thick. You quickly finished the rest of your meal before standing abruptly to start cleaning up. You let the bowl rinse and soak in the sink while you stored the leftovers in a container and to the fridge. You had put more than enough on his bowl, so you were sure he wouldn’t be asking for seconds. You quickly washed the dishes whilst he ate while reading his book. He was nearly done when you left the kitchen and proceeded to the bathroom.

He let out a sigh and dropped his book when he heard the shower running. He has been staring at the very same paragraph over and over but not once has he actually paid attention to the text let alone understood it. He was hoping to break the ice between you two, but he froze, missing his chance.

He rinsed his own dish and made sure everything was good and locked up before he went back to the bedroom, preparing to go to bed.

You came out a few minutes later, steam billowing from the ensuite and following you. Your hair was wrapped up in a towel, your body clad in the oversized jumper you adored, with a nightie underneath. You still refused to acknowledge him as you made your way to the closet, grabbing a spare comforter.

This got Loki’s attention and was what broke the silence of the room, really the silence you have both established since the argument earlier.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as he stopped fluffing the pillow in his hold. Your pillow.

‘I have a few case files to read and paperwork to do so… I’m staying in the living room’ you stated, hardly with any emotion, tugging at the comforter from the top shelf.

‘And the need for a blanket?’ he questioned again, looking over your well bundled figure. The sweater you had was thick and big enough to cover your legs if you were truly that cold, he knew that and the fact that you only use blankets whenever you were going to sleep.

‘It’s likely I’ll fall asleep on the couch so I’m preparing for the inevitable. To put it bluntly, I’m sleeping on the couch’ you say, finally turning around to see him holding your pillow before you moved to leave the room.

All Loki could do was nod, clenching his jaw as his hands dropped your pillow and watch as you left the room. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t will his lips to move in protest and just accepted what was going to happen. He didn’t want to force you seeing how that went earlier, so he let it… you, go do what you wish. He didn’t want to lose you and he’d do anything and everything to avoid that.

He got cleaned up in the bathroom before he went to bed. He couldn’t sleep and for hours he’s spent it staring up at the ceiling. Once he'd learned to sleep with you by his side, it was harder now to do so without you and the lingering thoughts of your fight earlier kept him company.

It took a while before the fatigue finally succumbed to him, his mind too tired to do anything that it finally forfeited and let him rest.

You on the other hand, haven’t slept at all. Not a wink of it. You spent a bit writing up some reports and looking over at some case files but after you found that you couldn’t focus, you packed everything up and tried to get some sleep. Tried. You really did but as tired as your body was, your mind worked wonders in keeping you up.

The fight you had was your fore thought, mainly the look in Loki’s eyes when you said you weren’t sleeping in the same room as him. He always tried to look impassive in front of others but with you, his eyes held so many expressions of love and adoration, you saw none of that as he held your pillow.

You felt bad leaving him alone. The gesture alone of fixing your side of the bed was heart-warming, that it made you feel like a monster when you saw the look he gave you. Of absolute disappointment? It wasn’t the right word, but you felt like you took the one good thing he had and crushed it in front of him.

You tried to stave off such thoughts, thinking of your task for tomorrow and such but it wasn’t any use. Your mind was going miles per minute, and you just couldn’t keep up. You stayed on the couch for hours, laying on the furniture as your eyes stayed transfixed on a spiderweb on the ceiling. You grew restless overtime so the idea of making tea came to mind.

You thought it a good idea for a cup to help you, so you finally got up. You took the towel you used from the coffee table and hung it on a chair as you turned the kettle on. You grabbed a cup from the drying rack and dropped the bag of chamomile you got from the jar, as you waited for the water to boil.

It was then you heard a whimper. It came fast and low, you were beginning to think that you imagined it when you heard it again. You left the cup sitting on the counter as you went to investigate, looking all around the open space of the flat until it finally registered to you that it was coming from the bedroom.

Loki…

Fast steps quickly took you to the door of the room, which was left open and from where you stood, you heard his cries clearly. The room, gloomy when you entered had scarcely any light. The only source came from the dim lighting from the hall and the sliver of moonlight seeping through the curtains, but it was enough to help you at least see figures.

You moved to the general area of where the bed was and there you saw his figure, trembling slightly. From what you saw as your eyes further adjusted to the darkness, he laid on his side, his shirt damp with sweat, his face glistening and his hair sticking all over his neck and cheeks. He had a pillow in his hold, his head buried in the cushion, but the muffled whines and whimpers still persisted to reach your ears. It was your pillow.

It had been a long while since these terrible nightmares have plagued his nights. The last was far too long ago you hardly remembered it anymore. You remember how he once told you about it having something to do with you sleeping by his side. That something about you just calmed him and made his mind come to a peaceful state. The guilt you felt increased tenfold as the regret of leaving him alone ate you alive. You didn’t… you don’t… you couldn’t have imagined how much you had helped him without even realizing and now leaving him to his own devices… you felt like a pompous prick.

You sped to his side, whispering his name in hopes to arouse him but it proved to be futile.

You sat beside him, turning to the side to face figure. A finger reached to tuck the damp locks behinds his ears as you whispered his name again, hoping to get through his thoughts but it still wasn’t working. Your hands moved to cradle the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek in hopes to stir him as you continued to say his name.

‘Loki’ you said softly, knowing using any other tone or pitch would only frighten him further. You moved your head next to his, your body twisted in an awkward position, but you couldn’t care less. You continued to whisper his name close to his ear, your thumbs caressing those sharp angled cheeks until he finally stirred.

You felt it. That light shake of his head as he finally starts rouse, as if shaking off fatigue and merciless thoughts that haunted his mind. You pulled away a bit to see him properly, wiping the beads of sweat that coated most of his forehead with the sleeve of your jumper as your other hand continued their gentle caress on his cheeks. He had a furrow that pulled his brows together and normally you would have found it adorable but right now you only hoped to remove it.

He blinked slowly, gathering his bearings to check if he was truly out of the agonizing torment his mind had conjured. He was losing you. It was scene after scene of ways he loses you and all of it was his fault. From you leaving him after an argument, to the image of the mad titan snapping your neck in his grasp as he watched. Each scenario broke him in every way, and he just couldn’t bare it.

The sight was still fresh in his mind as he finally started to ebb away from the drowse of sleep. Then as panic set him as he realized and processed what had happened, he didn’t notice the soft whisper of his name or the caress of your delicate fingers. He was on the verge of complete panic, tears welling up his eyes when he felt it. You.

Your voice. You touch. Your scent. Everything. It all enveloped him to the point It became overwhelming, but he wanted it. To suffocate in everything you, to banish those horrid thoughts away.

‘y/n?’ he whispered meekly, still questioning whether he was still in the throughs of his nightmare.

‘I’m here, It’s okay. It’s just a nightmare’ you replied as tears started to pour from his eyes and cascade down his cheeks.

‘I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t leave me’ he heaved, his voice shaking with every word, it broke your heart to hear him so broken. His arms moved to wrap around you, having a tight hold on your waist, leaving the pillow, as he wept.

You could only do so much to keep your own tears at bay, but you managed to stay strong. Your fingers wiped much of the tears, but they only continued to flow so you pulled him in to hide in the crook of your neck.

‘Shhh darling. It’s alright, I’m here, I promise’ you said in his ear, knowing his cries would only muffle his hearing. He cried and cried, apologizing just as much in between but you still dismissed every single one.

‘Shhhh, you’re okay darling. It’s only a nightmare, it’s alright’ you moved your body to lay on the bed fully, settling beside him comfortably as you held him tight. Your fingers weaved through his obsidian locks, scratching his scalp in hopes to console and comfort him in anyway as he continued to heave on the crook of your neck.

It broke your heart to see him like this. Frightened to the bone like a little boy, shivering as if dunk in the oceans of the arctic. All those years of suffering topped his insecurities and the lack assurance and consoling care throughout most of his life… of course he was afraid. Of the possibilities this life held. He’d seen the worst parts of it, of course id be difficult to peer outside that little protective box he hid in. And your argument certainly didn’t help matters.

He cried for a while and you let him. Bare his vulnerability to you and it was your honour to be shown this fragile part of him. You’d treasure the trust he had in you, to keep him safe in times like these. You wouldn’t let anything happen to him, especially like this. You love him too much.

He calmed down after a little while, still letting out soft sniffs and whimpers every once and a while, but he had calmed down. You placed a soft kiss on his temple, an assurance of sorts before pulling back to face him but his grip only tightened, a whine escaping his lips as he hid himself further in the safety of your hair.

He didn’t want you to pull away for fear of you having enough of him, but he wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t.

You hushed him softly, running a hand through his inky locks and caressing his scalp, assuring him you weren’t going anywhere and only meant to talk to him. He was reluctant but he gave in, nodding the slightest bit before pulling away to face you.

His face was red, eyes bloodshot and puffy around the eyelids, looking down and anywhere but at you. Streaks of tears, dry and fresh cascaded down his sharp features, causing his unruly hair to stick. The look he gave you completely broke your heart, rendering it to mush whilst he had the decency to look so heartbroken.

You kept your composure as a finger swiped a way those stray locks, tucking it behind his ear before he nuzzled in the warms of your palm. Your thumb glided along the prominent angle of his zygoma, brushing away whatever moisture was left until you tilted his head up, by the chin, to look at you. His beautiful emerald eyes shimmered with unshed tears however he still won’t look you in the eyes.

‘Loki’ his name came off your lips in a soft whisper, finally grabbing his attention. Now that you finally had it though, all words seem to have left you, your thoughts drawing blank. A sigh left your lips as you let your head drop to his, your foreheads pressed together as you closed your eyes.

‘I’m sorry’ you said blankly, your hand rising to come through his locks and to scratch his scalp. Whether it was for his comfort or your distraction, you wouldn’t know.

He shook his head, dismissing your apology. Half of him didn’t know what you were apologizing for yet the other had an idea as to what, and even if it truly was what you were thinking, he knew that it was his fault.

‘No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have treated you as such, but please darling, forgive me. I cannot lose you, please. Don’t… don’t leave me’ he practically begged. He really couldn’t lose you. He just wouldn’t know what to do if he did, but he just knows he won’t survive it.

‘No, I must apologize’ you argued, continuing on before he could cut you off ‘My actions weren’t acceptable, but Loki… We cannot keep going on like this. I am my own person, I refuse to told what to do, let alone what I can’t. I refuse to be caged in the four walls of this flat like some treasured bird, I’m not. I will not be restrained. By some illness nor God or man. This won’t work if that is what you want’.

‘I know, I know. I-It’s not, It’s not what I want. I’m sorry but darling, I just can’t lose you. I can’t. I won’t survive it. Please, I won’t do it again, just please don’t leave me.’ He sobbed, dropping his head back down the crook of your neck and he held you in a tight embrace. You understood what he meant; you don’t think you could survive losing him too.

‘I won’t. I’m not leaving you. I would never. I'm staying’ You affirmed. You really wouldn’t, but you won’t stand being coddled to the brim.

You held on to each other tightly for a while. Just letting the others presence calm one another. Loki hidden in the arch of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, while you laid your head on top of his, a hand mindlessly raking trough his gorgeous locks. It proved to be comforting for the both of you, evidently.

‘I only meant to protect you’ he mumbled with a sniff out of nowhere.

‘I understand, my love. And the best I could do is promise to be safe and extra careful. I won’t take too risky missions if that gives you a peace of mind.’ You offered. You knew he only meant well and cared for your safety. You love your job but often times, it was too dangerous, even for your standards after everything. Taking fewer and safer missions wasn’t a problem. As long as you had worked to do that involved helping people, you were satisfied.

You felt him nod his head lightly at the suggestion, causing a soft smile to bloom from your lips before placing a soft kiss on the crown of his head. You didn’t see it but a small smile curved his lips as well at the feel of your lips on his skin. The touch starved part of him relishing in these small moments of affection like treasure.

Your free hand moved to caress his back when you felt how damp the fabric of his top was. The sweat he had worked up earlier still hasn’t dried and you knew how uncomfortable he would get bathing in the slightest bit of dirt, hence why you thought of getting him cleaned.

You place another kiss on his cheek before attempting to untangle yourself from him. The events of the nights had taxed the god, but you wanted to get him at least a bit clean before he fully dozed off however, as you tried to get off his loving embrace, his grip only tightened, his droopy eyes opening wide to see the commotion. 

‘Shhh, It’s alright. I just have to head out to the kitchen to check something and I promise, I will be right back my love’ you said softly to his ear, hoping his drowse would keep. He gave a tired huff before reluctantly setting you free. Your grin only grew wider, and you place a quick peck on his lips before you scrambled off the bed.

You quickly checked the kitchen to see if the kettle hadn’t burned and once assured, you left it as it was and headed to the loo to get what was needed. You took a small towel from the cupboard bellow the sink and ran it under the water to get it wet. Once it was fully soaked, you wrang the excess water from the towel and quickly grabbed a spare shirt from the wardrobe before going back to the bedroom.

The darling god had his eyes closed with your pillow once again tight in his grasp. This time, the sight made you smile. At how adorable he looked, face squashed on the cushion. You could tell how exhausted he was though, so you made haste in getting him set for night’s (hopefully) peaceful rest.

You sat beside him on the bed, the shifting of the mattress making him dare open an eye just as you were about to rouse him. He gave you that small charming smile of his when he saw you and your hand moved to cup his cheek, letting the pad of your thumb caress his now dried cheeks.

‘Can you sit up for me, luv’ you asked, leaning down to his ear. He gave you a faint nod before you sat back and helped him up. The fatigue was really getting on to him as he laid his head on your shoulder, so you made sure to finish as soon as possible to finally let him have a good night’s rest.

You gathered his hair into a pony with one hand and held it away, while the other wiped the damp cloth on the back of his neck. He flinched at the contact, having been spared a warning, you promptly apologized and moved as quickly as you could.

You wiped his face with great care, before you pulled his shirt off and threw it on the nightstand, to be put on the hamper after you were done. You wiped him all over until you deemed it enough and gave him the spare shirt. He put it on and just before you could leave the bed again, he took your hand. He gave you a pleading look that spoke volumes, and how could you resist when he gave you those doe eyes.

You gave him a soft smile, leaving the little towel beside the shirt and made your way to your spot on the bed. You got comfortable before you looked at him, staring at you with great fondness, it made you bashful yet you still opened your arms, welcoming him in to be held, which with great eager, he accepted. He laid beside you, wrapping his arms around your torso as he inhaled the scent of your hair, a welcome comfort after the course of the night.

You pulled the covers up to cover you both, but the feel of his soft lips just made you forget about everything but him, making you snuggle closer in his hold.

He had his head laid on the top of yours, his arms tied around you and your legs intertwined. An arm of yours cradled the back of his head, tangling to the roots of his inky locks while the other drew abstracts on his back. You held each other, never saying a word yet the silence was finally comfortable. A tranquil state you two could once again relish.

The silence however gave your mind room to intrude the peace, thinking of how things got to this point. From the argument, to the dismiss of each other’s presence and up until the confession after the dreadful nightmare, you admit that parts of how this ended up being the conclusion of the day, was your fault. Yes, Loki had his own mistakes in the matter, but you could have taken a point and fixed it. Why didn’t you get a grip and made the effort to make things better.  You shouldn’t ha…

A deep sigh broke you out of your trance. A squeeze, you felt you were given as arms around waist tightened and you were pulled impossibly closer to the mass holding you.

‘I can hear your gears turning, darling’ Loki mumbled, followed by a small chuckle, breaking the deafening comfort of silence. The sound was well welcomed after the tension of the day.

‘Sorry, luv. Go back to sleep’ you reply, scratching his scalp. He hummed in response, a smile pressing against your hair before a quick peck was planted on the top of your head. You grinned, closing your eyes, hoping to finally get consumed by the black oblivion that was rest.

The gentle caress on your arm helped, lulling you to a peaceful state of mind. Loki knew what helped you too.

Eventually the night drew on, painting the dark skies with stars as the two held each other, succumbing to blissful state of peace promised by slumber.

The night was a lesson for the two. To understand the other, to work out their problems and to never go to bed angry.

[sensitively-taken]

what's with your kisses? — park sunghoon

synopsis. Park Sunghoon has never had much time or even a slight care for dating, romance, love, or anything of that sort. so, when you kiss him at a rowdy party one night, as his first kiss ever, he’s surprised to find that he wants more. what he thought was going to be a one-time thing, he finds evolving into something he never wants to end—even if you two aren’t meant to be more than a summer fling.

pairing. park sunghoon x gender-neutral!reader ft. jake sim

genres. fluff, strangers to lovers au, summer (fling) au

warnings. underage drinking & all that implies! please let me know if i've missed any :)

word count. 10.7k (10737)

taglist. @soobin-chois @my5colors @kflixnet @jaeyunverse @heejojo @tbzloonar @odxrilove @aizzon

listen to! strangers, sigrid ⭑ i'll be down, talia goddess ⭑ lovestained, hope tala ⭑ yuck, charli xcx ⭑ feature me, flo ⭑ summer's over, tv girl ft. jordana ⭑ yellow cab, dpr live (click on the listen to for the spotify playlist, which i recommend listening to unshuffled)

notes. ermmm..... after more than a year and (almost) radio silence on this blog, here she is!! i'm rlly sorry ab how long it took for me to post this (esp when it was sitting in my drafts for a whole year..) 😭😭 but SHE'S HERE and that's all that matters!! since this was originally an entry for @/prettywon's soul symphonies collab, this song is based on yellow cab by dpr live, as you can probably tell by the title & playlist. i was rlly trying to reflect that boyish infatuation he's singing ab so if u cringe a bit i understand 😪 i did too tysm lola @ijhyo for beta reading this for me! (pls pardon me for tagging u a few hours late 🙏🏾) but enough rambling from me!! enjoy! ❤️

I – K is for Kiss

There was no such thing as the perfect first kiss.

Park Sunghoon, a nineteen-year-old boy who’d never been kissed, had accepted this fact long ago. A lucky few got to have their first kiss with their first love or a longtime crush, while a lot more people had embarrassing stories they’d share on drunken nights. He knew a first kiss wasn’t something out of a fairytale. But, he felt that, at the very least, he should have an adequate first kiss–preferably with someone he had some sort of feelings for.

So, he’d never predicted that he’d end up losing his lip virginity to a stranger at the summer party his best friend, Jake, was throwing.

Or that he’d like it. (Sunghoon wasn’t sure he could even admit that.)

He could admit this though: you were a good kisser. A very, very good kisser–at least, according to his standards. Even he–the nineteen-year-old who’d never even held hands with someone, let alone kissed someone–was able to realise you’d done this a dozen times before when you cupped his cheek–not aggressively, but softly, gently–whispered the question in his ear, and pulled him into a chaste, soft kiss as soon as he’d nodded awkwardly.

Then, moving your hand from his cheek to his neck and smirking slightly, you deepened the kiss.

That’s when he started wondering why he’d never done this before.

You didn’t move too fast, or too slow. It was almost like you knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was feeling, because the second it would start feeling a bit too much for him and his head would start swimming, you would pull back and rest your forehead against his. But, when he started missing the feel of your lips on his, your eyes would flicker to his, the question on the tip of your tongue, and lean in again.

He would never say it out loud, not to you or anyone else, but he was glad you’d taken the lead. Because with the way his hands were trembling to wrap themselves around your waist, and how he’d avoid your gaze every time you pulled back, he wasn’t so sure you two would’ve even been here if you’d left the initiating to him.

All of a sudden, you pulled back–the first time you didn’t do what he wanted–and Sunghoon chased your lips for a bit, cheeks reddening when he realised you weren’t leaning back in.

He stepped back, which was hard to do in a cramped shed but he managed and cleared his throat. Suddenly, he was very interested in inspecting the design of said shed. “Um… is something wrong? Did I, I don’t know, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you smiled coyly and licked your lips (Sunghoon’s eyes may have flickered back up in time to catch the moment and linger on it), “the seven minutes are up.”

Oh. Right. That–a very silly round of seven minutes in heaven–was how he’d got here. Stuck in a shed. Kissing a complete, random stranger. Y’know, the daily, run-of-the-mill stuff for Sunghoon.

He nodded slowly, flicking away the few dark hairs that fell in front of his eyes. “Right, right. After you.”

“After you?” You laughed, a warm sound he found himself melting to (on the inside. On the outside, he was biting his lip so hard he could taste your chapstick on his tongue), “This whole time you haven’t done anything, but now you want to be a gentleman?”

His face reddened and he crossed his arms over his chest. “No one said gentlemen have to be good at kissing!”

“You do have a point, kind sir.” He rolled his eyes at your jab. “I’d just think it’d be much more gentlemanly of you to look me in the eyes, instead of, dunno, glaring at my lips.”

At this rate, Sunghoon was sure someone’s face couldn’t be as red as his was.

He made a point to look into your eyes for a good ten seconds, breath held, before looking at his flip flops and murmuring, “I wasn’t glaring… I think. Like, I’m not mad at your lips or anything.”

You laughed again, a deeper sound he was sure came from the depths of your heart, and with a small grin on his face, Sunghoon decided he liked the sound.

“I wasn’t saying you were mad.” You stepped closer to him and Sunghoon’s breath hitched. You reached out to him, and for a second Sunghoon thought you were going to cup his face and kiss him again–he wanted you to–but then you reached up and smoothed his eyebrows and the space between them. “Just relax these big boys a bit. They can get a day off glaring, don’t you think, cutie?”

You didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, you smiled and reached behind Sunghoon for the shed door, stepping out to hear a chorus of cheers from some other partygoers and leaving the boy dumbfounded and red.

It was only when Sunghoon moved to leave the shed that he realised he’d never caught your name.

II – I is for Infatuation

Sunghoon was not thinking about the kiss. Well. Kisses.

At least, that was what he toldhimself.

But, ever since he’d woken up at Jake’s place the morning after, with a head so heavy he wasn’t sure he could even lift it, it was the only thing on his mind.

First thing in the morning, when he couldn’t even remember what his name was, he thought about it. Late at night, hours past when he’d told himself he’d go to sleep, he thought about it. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t get the thought of you and your stupid lips out of his head. (Jake had called him obsessed, but he preferred to think of it as a little infatuation.)

He was sure he was going insane when he saw someone perusing the chapstick section in the grocery store and immediately thought of you, only for him to find out it was you when your hands landed on the same pack.

Sunghoon drew his hand back like he was stung, while you simply took the balm and murmured an apology without sparing him a glance.

He wasn’t sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or disappointment. On one hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips (which was the reason he told himself he was in the lip balm section in the first place and not because he couldn’t get your lips out of his head). On the other hand, it was you–the only person in the entire world who’d kissed Park Sunghoon on his very chapped, very dry lips.

Sunghoon didn’t have much time to think about it though, because you suddenly looked back and raised your eyebrows at him.

He bit his lip in anticipation of what you were going to say, but he could’ve never imagined you’d say, “Nice jammies, cutie.”

Sunghoon was beginning to think you had a thing for embarrassing him, as his cheeks turned the shade of some of the chapsticks on display. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, murmuring, “Thanks, my grandma crocheted them for me.”

“Really?” Your eyes shone with actual interest, and Sunghoon’s blush spread across his cheeks. “Do you think you could send me her number or something? I’ve been trying to get the hang of crocheting recently, but it’s just not been working.”

“I would, totally, a hundred percent, but I don’t have your number yet, so…” He went silent, as he realised what he’d said and your eyebrows climbed further up your head.

Sunghoon wished the ground would open up. Pronto.

“Wow, cutie, I have to say, I’m kinda impressed.” You stretched out your hand, which made Sunghoon’s brows furrow, until you gestured for the phone in his pyjama pocket. “I never thought you’d be the type of gentleman to muster up the balls to ask for my number, but here we are.”

He groaned as he passed you his phone, a slight flush to his face. “Could we not rehash the whole gentleman bit? That was kinda embarrassing for me.”

“What?” You grinned, eyes flickering between his phone screen and him. “Do you mean the part where you didn’t know how to kiss back or the part where you stared at my lips the whole time after, cutie?”

If Sunghoon wasn’t sure before, he definitely was now. You had a thing for embarrassing him–and calling him cutie. He’d never admit it, but he was finding that he didn’t really seem to mind either.

He avoided your gaze and toyed with the hem of his sweater, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Um, both?”

“’ Kay, got it.” You passed his phone back to him and watched him redden at what you’d saved yourself as.

“Couldn’t your name have sufficed? Why did you—” he groaned and buried his face behind his hands, his voice coming through as muffled— “Why did you have to save yourself as ‘seven minutes hottie?’ Isn’t that too conceited of you... and corny?”

You shrugged. “It’s not wrong, is it?”

Even though you couldn’t see his face redden, he figured you’d imagined it as you let out a small snort. “What? Are you gonna tell me I’m not hot?”

“... No,” came his reluctant reply, as he finally removed his hands from his face and went to change your contact name to your actual name, only to remember he’d never got it. “Ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“My name?” You hummed quietly, like you were considering something, and Sunghoon felt a certain type of anticipation grow in his stomach. “If I tell you my name, do I get a kiss, cutie?”

He scoffed, though he could still feel some blood rush to his cheeks. You were really something. “I thought you said I was a bad kisser.”

“Uh-uh,” you corrected, leaning in slowly, “I said you don’t know how to kiss. But, once you do, well… who knows?”

For the second time in a week, Sunghoon felt the distance between you two close and desperately wished you were going to kiss him. Yes, he was in a grocery store and yes, anyone could walk past at any moment, but when you leaned in so close to him–with your soft lips pursed and your eyes staring into his soul–he couldn’t help but fall victim to the pull you had on him. He was weak–so weak–to you.

But, just like before, you didn’t.

You simply brushed his bed hair out of his face and snorted a bit at his spaced-out expression, before stepping back into a space where Sunghoon could finally breathe and think of something else other than your lips on his.

“Yeah,” he murmured, so low that you had to lean back in to hear him.

Sunghoon had always thought of himself as a reasonable, patient person. He knew if he wanted quality things in his life, he’d have to get used to waiting often–at least, that’s what his parents had taught him. But, every time you came into his orbit, his usually thick line of patience wore thin with a simple glance or smile from you.

What were you doing to him?

“Sorry,” your tongue flicked back over your lips, “what was that?”

His line snapped.

“Yeah, you do get a kiss.”

And the words were gone before he could take them back. But, blood rushing in his ears and heart pounding out of his chest, Sunghoon found he didn’t want to take them back–even though, in the back of his mind, part of him was blushing and squirming at his wording.

“Oh?” you said, looking straight into his eyes–unwavering, for once. A certain tension filled the air, as you two stared at each other for a moment, the night of the party probably replaying in both your heads. Careful not to disturb the atmosphere between you two, you whispered, “_____. My name’s _____.”

The tension wasn’t cut, but simply deflated like a balloon as Sunghoon let out a long breath, cheeks painted a dark red, and asked, “But not here, right? I’m not saying we’re doing anything too scandalous, but my mum’s good friends with the manager here, so… Yeah. I kinda, um–maybe I, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a moment of silence, as you stared incredulously at the blushing boy, before you burst out into full-fledged laughter. You hugged your sides a bit and smiled so wide that any passerby would’ve thought Sunghoon was a comedic genius.

Before he could get the wrong idea, you cupped Sunghoon’s face and said, “You’re just too cute, cutie.”

And he smiled a little, slowly as his eyes traced your face, his brows finally relaxed.

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye, sobering up, and asked, “So. Where's your car?”

III – S is for Scrapbook

You and Sunghoon had ended up kissing in his car.

When he’d told Jake about it later, he’d said you guys had made out–to embarrass Sunghoon, he assumed–but the kisses had been soft and chaste, where you’d been more focused on getting Sunghoon to reciprocate than just kissing him. He had, albeit slowly, and by the time he’d dropped you off at your house, he was able to proudly say that he had initiated a kiss between you two.

It had built his confidence incredibly, being able to say that he’d kissed you and not the other way around–not that he was saying it to anyone, besides Jake really–so much so that he’d texted you just a few minutes after he’d gotten home. He’d panicked then, wondering if you’d think it weird he’d texted you so quickly, but you’d responded just as fast that his nerves had calmed and he’d found himself laughing at your texts.

While talking to you face to face was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to, texting you was something he could do with ease–well, somewhat.

In the late afternoons, when he woke up with messy bed hair and mucus still in his eyes, he’d check his phone to see if you’d sent anything–which you almost always had. Whether it was a quick picture of something you'd seen on a walk, your poor attempts at making breakfast, or even just a morning selfie.

On some days, he’d feel too flustered and musty to send anything in return–Like, what if you realised he was wearing the same shirt he’d sent a picture in yesterday?—and on others, he had to shut off his phone to take deep breaths after sending something as simple as him brushing his teeth.

Okay, so he was still struggling to talk to you, but at least he didn’t stutter over text and go red every few seconds.

With his awkwardness out of the way, he could actually learn things about you. Like your favourite colour, your favourite spots in town, and your hobbies. He even learned you liked to scrapbook and every summer, you’d make a scrapbook of all your highlights. Polaroids, film stills, movie tickets, coupons, and more would go into the scrapbook and at the end of summer, you’d post little snippets on it on your Instagram page. He’d told you it was cute and jokingly asked if he’d be featured in this summer’s scrapbook, to which you’d responded with ‘we’d have to go out for u to be included wouldnt we?’

Which is what led to this moment. He had thought you were joking about the whole going out thing because it’d been late at night and you two had just been talking about the trips you’d been going on with your families in the next couple of days, but then the next morning–that morning–you’d sent two tickets to a film showing that evening–this evening. Right now–and a short, little ‘wanna go see this? my scrapbook’s feeling a little hoon-less rn :(’.

Evidently, he hadn’t said no, because he was now parked outside your house, trying to calm himself down as he waited for you to come out.

His hands were sweating a bit, and he kept checking his reflection in his rearview mirror, anxiously biting his lower lip and running a hand through his hair. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even the fact that he was going to see you that was stressing him out, it was more the fact that he didn’t know what this was. Were you guys just going out to see a late-night movie as friends? Was it a date? Should he have shown up with flowers or a gift? Were you guys just friends? Were you something more? Did you always ask your friends to see movies late at night so impromptu? Did he even see you as more than a friend?

All the questions made his head swim and his palms sweat, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. He hadn’t been thinking of this the few weeks you guys had been texting, but now he felt like a broken record, gaze bouncing between his reflection and your house.

And then all his thoughts slowed to a stop.

You walked out of your house with a slight smile and a twinkle in your eye, and his brain turned to mush. You looked… good. That was all he was capable of thinking, as you walked the short distance to his car, waving, and slid into the passenger seat.

Sunghoon stared at you for a second, as you put on your seatbelt and said hi, his mind completely blank. Then, your touch on his shoulder and a furrow between your brows brought him back to the present and he spat out a jumbled mess of, “Good, yeah, yeah. I’m good, you’re good, so good.”

It was your turn to stare, confusion clear in your eyes, and panic rose within him.

“Wait, I mean you look good!” he said, gesturing at you, “I mean, not that you don’t look good all the time, but, like, you look really good right now. Like, wow, I–I should stop talking.”

You blinked at him for a second and then laughed that same laugh that melted his insides. He noticed, as you threw your head back slightly, that you hadn’t removed your hand from his shoulder, and Sunghoon found himself relishing your touch.

“Stop it, cutie, you’re gonna make me blush,” you said playfully, rolling your eyes and hitting his chest lightly. You sobered up slightly, but the smile was still wide on your face as you said, “You look good, too. Very suave, very cool. I can’t lie though, I miss the bedhead and your grandma’s sweater a bit.”

With your easy words lightening the mood, he found himself relaxing a bit–enough to pull away from the curb and start driving. “Really? Maybe I’ll wear it next time.”

You didn’t blink at his mention of a next time, though Sunghoon searched your face for any sign of discomfort or surprise. Instead, your smile grew slightly and you asked, “What type of date are you thinking? Like, an early morning IHOP or Waffle House thing? Or, more of an early-morning pancake date at home?”

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d stopped at a red light, Sunghoon was sure he would’ve crashed his car right at that moment. He gulped loudly and spared your expectant eyes a glance, as he could feel his blood rush in his ears and hear his heart pound out of his chest.

The light turned green and he cleared his throat. “Uh, so, does that mean this is a date?”

He was glad he couldn’t see your reaction to his question–you probably thought he was silly–but was also nervous because you went quiet for a  bit. Sunghoon considered turning on the radio and moving on from the topic, if that could dispel the momentary awkwardness between you two, but he wanted to hear your answer.

You laughed slightly, but he could hear the nervous undertones. “Do you not want it to be one? I’m sorry, I just assumed because, well, we kissed at the party and we’ve been talking and stuff since then, so… I thought you were more of a dating type of guy, but–”

“Wait, what?” he interrupted, a crease in his forehead as he spared you a glance. Something within him shattered at the sight of the uncertainty on your face. Had he done that? “What other type of guy would I be?”

“Well, you know…” You paused, shifting slightly in your seat. “There are some guys that just wanna have fun. Mess around, you know? I didn’t think you were one of those guys, but if that’s what you wanna do, then–”

“No,” he said fiercely, only realising how angry he sounded when you glanced at him in surprise. “I want to date you. I really do. I just… I thought you didn’t and I didn’t know if we were just friends, and I’ve never done this before so, I just–”

“You’ve never done this before?” you cut him off, visible shock in your eyes. “There’s no way, Hoon. You’re joking, right?”

And with that, the awkwardness dissipated, as his cheeks flamed and he avoided your wide eyes.

“I know, it’s weird–”

“No, no!” You smiled a bit at his flustered state. “It’s not weird. I’ve only dated once before and, even then, it wasn’t that serious, so we’re kind of in the same boat.”

It was his turn to glance at you with incredulous eyes. “Wait, really? I thought you had so much dating experience cause, like, you’re such a good kisser and you’re so confident and forward, y’know?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, some guys just wanna mess around. Sometimes, I do too.”

“And that’s not what you want with me, right? You actually want to date, right?” You’d already told him you considered this a date, and he’d already told you he wanted to date you–which you hadn’t objected to–but he just had to make sure that was real, and his mind hadn’t made that up.

“Yeah, Hoon,” you started softly, a shy smile on your lips–something he thought he’d never see on you.  “I actually want to date you.”

Immediately, his eyes flickered back to the road and his cheeks flushed, a wide grin slowly stretching on his lips. You laughed at his smile, loud and warm, and he closed his eyes in bliss and only opened them again to smile at you.

“So, this is a date? For sure?” he asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the console as he flickered through the channels for a song.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your hand brushing his as you turned up the volume on a specific channel, smiling at the way his flush deepened. You held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and nodded. “This is a date.”

Sunghoon couldn’t even remember why he’d been so nervous, and why his palms–one of which was currently touching yours–had been so sweaty, as he gazed into your eyes and leaned in for a chaste kiss. He smiled into it and rolled his eyes to himself, all of his questions answered. Especially the one he’d been too worried to even ask himself.

If he’d had any doubt about it before, he was sure of it now.

He liked you. Maybe even too much for a summer fling.

IV – S is for Sorry

Over the next few days, Sunghoon found himself wishing you guys were more than just a summer fling.

It was wistful thinking, he knew that already. Just a few months prior, you guys hadn’t even been aware of the other's existence. Now, to him, it felt like you took up every inch of his thoughts, dreams, and being. And, in just a couple of weeks, you’d be off to your respective universities, leaving the short fling between you just that–a short, summer fling.

You two were avoiding talking about it, despite the palpable tension it added to your conversations when you brought up the future. You would mention how you were going to look into photography courses at your uni on a video call and Sunghoon would smile outwardly, while inwardly he’d wonder if you’d find someone else to call your muse–as he’d gotten used to you calling him.

He would mention how he was going to do a double major since he wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to do, and he’d notice the way you’d bite your lip like you were stopping yourself from asking him where. And, just now, moments ago on your video call, you had mentioned how you wanted to go on another date with him after you both got back from your hometowns, but before… (well, you hadn’t continued but he knew you meant before you two had to part.)

He knew you two were only prolonging your pain, and he was only wounding himself deeper by thinking so wistfully, but you two were happy at this exact moment. And, it wasn’t enough, but he’d make it be enough if that was what you two needed.

At least, that’s what he’d been thinking till his sister barged into his childhood room and said his grandma wanted to see him.

Now, legs tucked under himself and head lowered, Sunghoon sat opposite her, with a long table between them, and a tense silence filled the room.

He wasn’t sure what his grandma “seeing him” meant. She wasn’t very old, just in her early sixties, but she was a calm, wise woman who’d lived to see and experience a lot, so she may as well have had the wisdom of someone a century old. If she wanted to “see him,” that most likely meant she had a piece of advice for him that he wouldn’t like.

For once, he was right.

“So, your mum told me you’ve been seeing someone?”

Sunghoon coughed abruptly, patting his chest as a deep flush flooded his cheeks. “I’m sorry?”

“Sorry?” Sunghoon’s grandma scoffed and eyed him slowly. “What are you sorry for? Not calling to consult me first? Or, for trying to hide it from me? Or, is there something else, hm?”

He raised his eyes to meet his grandma’s eyes, but immediately lowered them at the fierce scowl on her face. He bowed deeply, palms flat before him. “I’m sorry, Grandma.”

She eyed his form for a second, before scoffing again and gesturing toward him. “Sit, sit. I didn’t call you here to hear you apologise all day.”

Sunghoon sat again and raised his head but still didn’t look his grandma in the eye. His mind was too preoccupied with wondering how his mum had figured it out, considering you guys had gone on your first date just a couple of days ago.

He jolted a bit when his grandma asked, “You’re not going to ask me why I called you?”

“Sorry,” he began and cleared his throat at his grandma’s glare.  “Why did you call me, Grandma?”

She continued eyeing him with the same, wary gaze she’d been eyeing him with since he’d entered her room for a few moments, before she suddenly became sombre. Without the glint in her eyes, Sunghoon could see how deep the pools in her eyes were and the lines surrounding them. He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Well, what’s your plan? Hm?” Her eyes bore deep into his like her question was just a formality and she already knew the answer. Sunghoon wouldn’t be surprised if she already did. “Are you two going to be a campus couple?”

He knew her question was mostly rhetorical, but he couldn’t help but imagine it. Walking you to and from lectures; studying together in a library or a cosy coffee shop; going to endless parties with you; proofreading each other’s papers; you wearing his clothes in his dorm. Sunghoon felt himself grow warm.

Then, even warmer as his grandma cleared her throat and raised a knowing brow in his direction. She didn’t have to say anything for him to realise she was expecting an answer.

“I…” He faltered for a moment, remembering the hesitancy in your eyes every time a hint of the topic was brought up. “I don’t know, Grandma. I… well, there’s nothing I can really do, I guess. We’re probably not even going to the same universities, so I don’t know what the plan is.”

“Have you guys talked about it?”

A pause settled between the two of them, as Sunghoon lowered his eyes again and prepared himself to bow again.

His grandma scoffed, the loudest of all her scoffs so far, and sighed exasperatedly. “You two haven’t even discussed anything? And you’re here talking like you’re some handsome lead in a drama and _____’s life will be in danger if you two continue dating?”

“Ah, Grandma, are you saying I’m not hands–Wait, wait? How do you know _____’s name?”

She paused slightly and carefully schooled her features. “Is that important right now?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon’s brows furrowed, then he remembered your touch against them and he relaxed them a bit, “considering that I’ve never told Mum _____’s name or even the fact that we’ve been on one date, yes? Kinda?”

“I’m your grandma, am I not?” was her only response, with the ghost of a smile on her lips. He grimaced slightly, but his grandma continued without any regard for his reaction. “I know you guys are kids, but you didn’t even think of discussing anything? You were just going to kiss and say ‘bye bye’ and continue with your lives?”

“I mean,” Sunghoon started, trying to fight the blush climbing up his body. There wasn’t any point, though, because the apples of his cheeks were already shining. “_____’s not even my partner or anything, so it isn’t my place…”

“But isn’t that the end goal?”

His grandma stared at him, but he couldn’t hold the weight of her stare. Because deep down inside, Sunghoon knew she was right. And he knew he wanted nothing more than to be able to be called yours.

To see more pictures of the scenery from your morning walks and even join you on them too. To cuddle up in bed and watch some of your favourite animes together, only pausing to snuggle further into the blanket. To finally go on that early morning date at a Waffle House, eating your orders in his car where his passenger seat would be perfectly adjusted to seat you. To have a home, a space, with you.

But, he thought. There was always a ‘but’.

Before, that ‘but’ had been that he wasn’t even sure if that was what you wanted as well, if he even really wanted it. Now, that ‘but’ was the inevitable space and distance that would grow between you two. The space that would grow so large that you two wouldn’t be able to have any space for each other.

Sunghoon’s stomach sank as his thoughts spiralled, but he summed them up to his grandma with a simple shrug.

“Why are you, why are you so dramatic?” she asked, rolling her eyes at her grandson’s face. A fierce scowl was back on her face and, if it weren’t for the table between the two of them, she looked like she was about ready to pull on Sunghoon’s ear. “Why are you sitting here in my house moping and frowning like everything’s decided? Who knows? Maybe _____ is willing to make it work, to even travel to another city just to see you and your dramatic self. But how would you know when you’re busy here moping?”

He’d considered it. Judging from the talks you’d had and the sheer amount of hours you talked every day, Sunghoon was sure that you liked him as well (not as much as he did, he was sure–that wasn’t even remotely possible when he could barely get you off his mind–but enough to deal with his “dramatic self,” as his grandma had put it). But, there it was again, he just couldn’t get rid of that ‘but.’ It was festering in the back of his mind whenever he even thought of bringing it up to you.

“Sunghoon.” There was a note of finality in his grandma’s voice as she said his name. “Discuss things with _____ first. I understand sometimes we experience heartbreak, but I won’t let you break your own heart over foolishness.”

“But Grandma–”

“No ‘buts.’” His grandma folded her arms in her lap and glanced at the door of her room. “No more ‘buts’, Sunghoon.”

Despite the lingering worry settled in his system, he sighed and stood up slowly. Sunghoon bowed deeply, glanced at his hands, and left his grandma’s room with her words in mind.

V – E is for End

Sunghoon wasn’t too sure he’d be able to follow his grandma’s instructions.

He was back now from his hometown, back in the comfort of his familiar Seoul bedroom, but you weren’t here. He’d known you two wouldn’t get back at the same time, yet that didn’t stop him from feeling slightly lonely without you to go on dates with. It was a numbing feeling, that left him feeling empty if he dwelled on it too long, and he worried he’d go completely numb if you two truly didn’t end up working out.

The thought sent a chill down his spine every time Sunghoon’s mind strayed to it and Jake’s feeble comforts did little to quell his worries.

To make matters worse, you unexpectedly postponed your return date and said you couldn’t go to a pool party Jake was throwing anymore. You were very vague about the reason why when he asked and Sunghoon began worrying once again. He even brought up not going to the party to Jake, but his best friend wouldn’t have it and threatened to drag him to the party himself.

So, there he was. Standing at the edge of a crowd of strangers, nursing his second beer of the night, and completely alone. Well, he wasn’t completely alone. Jake and some of Sunghoon’s other friends had passed by him and invited him to the dance floor, but he couldn’t get himself to get out there and dance with someone who wasn’t you. The most they’d been able to get him to do was drink a little, even if the drinks only fuelled his moping.

A couple of people sent him inviting looks and winks, dancing in a way that made him avert his eyes immediately, but he didn’t budge an inch from where he was standing. Maybe if you were here, he would. No, definitely, if you were here he would. His mind wandered to grasp at the edges of the first night you’d met, trying to remember if you’d been dancing that night, but he couldn’t pull up a single image of you dancing.

If you were here, how would you dance? Would you dance with a lot of energy, completely letting yourself loose? Or, would you take your time to flow with the music, swinging your hips and smiling at him in that way that just drove him crazy?

Sunghoon smiled a bit at the thought and felt his hips move along to the beat, frowning once he realised what he was doing.

He missed you.

Just a few months ago, he hadn’t known he could miss someone the way he was missing you, but he was and he couldn’t do anything about it.

As if his best friend could read his thoughts, Jake danced off the dance floor to Sunghoon’s side, running a hand through his unruly, blond hair. Sunghoon could smell the booze coming off him, and he watched as his friend nearly lost his footing trying to lean on Sunghoon. Jake barely noticed, though, as he just kept smiling up at Sunghoon. Sunghoon made a point to look anywhere, except in the blond’s direction.

After a while of just trying to ignore his drunk friend, Sunghoon eventually rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow in Jake’s direction. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t just look at you now?” Jake asked, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“No, it’s not that. It’s the way you’re looking at me.”

“How am I looking at you?” His friend leaned in close, stretching an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders. “Hm? I’m just looking at you with my normal eyeballs, my very normal eyeballs, actually just like you, you too.”

“You’re looking at me like, I don’t fucking know, you’re hiding some type of secret from me,” Sunghoon said, pushing Jake off his frame. “And I don’t like that look because the last time you looked at me like that I ended up kissing _____ in a shed for seven minutes.”

Jake’s wide smile grew into a slight, smug smirk. “And look how well that turned out for you. Someone’s not so bitchless anymore.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink but couldn’t hide the dusting of pink on his cheeks. (If he were to consider things between the two of you, you would be the one who wasn’t so bitchless anymore, considering he was more of your bitch than you were his with the way he was nursing a beer in the corner of a party like a loser just because he missed you. He didn’t need to tell Jake all that though.)

Instead, he feigned an annoyed scowl and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want, Jake?”

“I thought you would never ever ever ask.” His friend grinned. “Can you please get out the other floaties from the shed? Some people ripped these and, well, turns out not everyone at a pool party can actually swim. A bit crazy, I know.”

“Why can’t you? The shed was closer to where you were standing.”

“Um…” his friend trailed off, shaking his head incredulously, “I’m obviously inebriated, you know! Everything weighs a shitton of bricks right now.”

Sunghoon’s feigned scowl deepened into a real one, as he rolled his eyes and put his beer down on the ground. It was getting warm anyway and the alcohol wasn’t doing much for him, except make him miss you more. He shot Jake a look, before shouldering past him and making his way towards Jake’s shed.

It was surprisingly chilly for a summer night out, chilly enough at least that Sunghoon could feel some of the hairs on his arms raise as he stalked towards the shed. But, he welcomed the chill because his alternative was thinking about what had happened the last time he’d walked towards this shed. And once he started thinking about that, he’d start missing the feel of your lips on his, your arms around his neck, your eyes staring into his.

He cursed under his breath at his thoughts, wondering if, for even one second, he could think of something other than you.

Sunghoon immediately answered his question with a ‘no’ when he walked into the shed and he thought he smelled your signature fragrance. He would’ve recognised it anywhere (not because he was obsessed like Jake had once said, but because you’d borrowed his sweater on your date and your scent still lingered even after he’d washed it), so he was sure he wasn’t picking up someone else’s perfume or cologne, but he wouldn’t rule out him imagining your fragrance there as a result of him missing you so much.

So, he ignored the smell filling the shed and clambered around for the light switch. He’d been so sure it was by the wall, but he must’ve been more buzzed than he realised because his fingers kept grazing the air. By the time he finally felt the grooves of the light switch under his fingers and was going to turn it on, Sunghoon was so ready to grab the floaties Jake had asked for and get back to the party, or maybe even go home because–

Sunghoon froze.

He couldn’t think, speak, or do anything as the lights flickered on to reveal… well, you.

Sunghoon was going crazy.

He was so sure you were a figment of his imagination, brought about by how much he missed you, and he immediately frowned at the thought. Missing you was fine, maybe overkill when he thought about how often he thought about you, but creating images of you? That was a bit too much, even for him.

Despite his thoughts, though, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the nagging hope that maybe this was real. It didn’t help that “you”—or you–were smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flip, especially after being away from you for so long.

He felt ridiculous for even bothering, like when a horror film character asks who’s there after hearing a noise in the dark, but he cleared his throat slowly and whispered, “_____?”

You giggled softly and raised your eyebrows at what Sunghoon was sure was an incredulous look on his face. “Yes, Hoon?”

“Oh, my God,” Sunghoon started, feet still locked in place, “Oh, my God.”

You took a step closer to him and your grin only grew wider as he blinked slowly at you. Another step and he gulped slowly. Yet another and his eyes grew wide.

He put a hand up before you could take another step and close the distance between you two. “Wait, wait, wait!”

A small frown lit up your face, but you stayed where you were and slightly cocked your head.

“You’re real?” Sunghoon felt stupid asking, but he still had to check.

The feeling only doubled when your brows furrowed and you asked, “Am I real? … Hoon, is everything okay?”

He felt so warm at the familiar nickname that he could almost ignore the rest of what you said, but the growing concern on your face made him clarify himself.

“I just, I’ve had a bit to drink so I thought that my brain tricked me into thinking you were there.” Sunghoon paused at the bemusement on your face and he suddenly felt a whole lot warmer, despite the chilly air. “Actually, um, now that I say it out loud I do realise how ridiculous it sounds. Sorry.”

“Well,” you smiled at him with a sly glint in your eye, finally closing the gap between you two so your breath was fanning out on his face, “if you want to check, you always can.”

Sunghoon, being the guy he was, immediately thought of how he’d pinch himself in a shocking situation and went to do just that. It was only when you laughed at his actions, an incredulous look in your eyes, that he realised what you’d meant and blushed.

“Oh, I, I–”

“Hoon?” you asked, cutting him off and waiting until he nodded, “You’re so cute sometimes, y’know?”

“Just sometimes?” Sunghoon recovered quickly, sliding his arms around your waist and grinning slightly. He’d missed this too much. “So, what am I the other times?”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s gotten a little bolder, hasn’t he?”

“I’d say it’s your influence. You were bound to rub off on me after sticking around me so much.”

He grinned at the way your brows shot up.

“Sticking around you? Hoon, who was the one that–”

“_____?” It was Sunghoon’s turn to cut you off and his grin grew so wide at the realisation on your face. It felt good to finally flip the tables. “You talk so much sometimes, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a slight tug on your lips. “Wow, you’re so original. What, first you’re gonna steal my line, next you’re gonna pull some cheesy rom-com line on me and kiss me?”

“So you’re telling me you wouldn’t like it?” he asked, as one of his hands slowly travelled up your side and settled on cupping your jaw. He didn’t miss the way you sagged into his touch. Sunghoon was going to explode.

The tug on your lips grew into a full grin and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “Now, who said anything about that? C’mere, Hoon.”

He didn’t need to hear it twice. Sunghoon tilted your jaw towards him and leaned in for a soft kiss. It wasn’t intense or desperate, unlike what he’d imagined it be like after being away from you for so long, but he preferred it this way. He could savour the taste of your familiar lip balm against his lips and take his time pecking small, chaste kisses on and around your lips.

He sighed out loud and felt his cheeks flush when you pulled back to laugh. “You really missed me, huh?”

Sunghoon wasn’t sure if it was because of the little alcohol in his system or how much he’d missed you, but he gazed into your eyes and whispered, “I did. I really did.”

And, just like that, the tension was back. The obvious hesitancy. The ‘buts.’ He could feel your hold on his neck loosen slightly and he wanted nothing more than to take his words back and rewind to before he fell too deep, but it was too late. All that was left was for him to either avoid everything or finally face it, despite the worries that built up in his mind.

“_____,” he started gently, like you would run away at any second (but he knew you too well to know that you wouldn’t–he would), “we… we should talk.”

“About what?” you tried, a burst of nervous laughter escaping your lips.

You were avoiding his serious gaze, choosing instead to focus on where your hands met his neck. Sunghoon couldn’t tell much of what you were thinking, but, knowing you, he knew you were only postponing the conversation. Maybe it was because this was supposed to be a fun night for you two–after all, you’d probably sacrificed some more nights with your family to get here. Or, maybe it was because you weren’t ready to discuss it. Either way, it was as much your decision as his.

Sunghoon lowered his hands to your lower back and squeezed lightly. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to… It’d just be a good idea because soon everyone’s gonna start leaving for uni and well, we don’t even know what’s gonna happen between us then, and it’d probably be best if–”

“Hoon.” You were looking into his eyes now, your brows drawn together. “You’re shaking.”

His eyes grew wide and left your face to glance at his fingers, which were trembling around your waist. He tried laughing, shaking the nerves off, but the sound came out choked and he winced. Without a word, he gestured towards the floor of the shed and slumped against the back wall. You followed shortly after, sitting with your knees bunched up to your chest, one of your shoulders brushing against his. At your touch, Sunghoon wanted to reach out and squeeze one of your hands, but they were balled up on top of your knees, a hard look on your face. He sighed.

“You’re right, Hoon,” you started, staring ahead through the open shed door. The party was still going on outside, the music and noise muted from where you two were, but it might’ve as well not been with the way you two were wrapped up in your own bubble. A tense bubble. “We should talk… about us.”

He nodded, crossing his legs and laying his trembling hands in his lap.

Despite what you said, a short lapse of silence settled between you two and, for a moment, Sunghoon was worried this wasn’t going to go anywhere and he’d made a mistake.

But then you swivelled your head towards him and whispered, “What do you want us to be?”

What does he want you two to be? He’d thought about that question one too many times. It’d only ever hurt, thinking of so many domestic scenes and possibilities with you two when he wasn’t even sure if there could be a ‘you two.’

“What do I want us to be?” he repeated, gazing out the shed. “I want us to be together. I want… I want to keep waking up to your pictures on my phone and to go on spontaneous, little dates with you and finally go for that Waffle House date and… just be with you. I want you.”

With his last words, he slowly looked at you and already found you looking at him. There was a little smile tugging at your lips, that was both sad and happy at the same time, and you just nodded slowly.

As his gaze lingered, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes. “I want that too. Really, I do. You don’t understand how many times I’ve wondered what it’d be like if, I don’t know, we’d met a little earlier. If we could’ve gotten to know each other during high school.

“You know Jake told me you were your school’s drama club star?” You smiled slightly and Sunghoon felt a small smile pull at his lips as well. “I would’ve loved to be in the crowds, cheering you on. Or, even maybe get up on stage with you. Jake told me your school never did Romeo and Juliet, but you’d make a pretty good Juliet, don’t you think?”

Sunghoon chuckled and you did too, your shoulders brushing against each other’s for a moment, till your laughter ebbed away. You stared straight ahead again, frowning.

“And then I wondered why I kept thinking of the past. I mean, it’d just make more sense for me to hope that we could stay together, you know? But instead, I keep wishing we’d known each other longer.” You smiled again, that smile from before, but Sunghoon was sure it was only sad this time. “And I realised that I, I felt like we were running out of time. That, I don’t know, when summer ends, we end. Like the changing of weather is some type of timer.”

You whispered the last part more to yourself, but Sunghoon heard it and the self-loathing in it. You loathed yourself for the way you’d been thinking. Sunghoon couldn’t help but relate.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at Sunghoon, a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you ever feel like that? Like this is all the time we’ll ever have? Like even thinking of a future where we’re together is… I don’t know, like, wrong?”

That familiar hurt Sunghoon felt or anticipated, whenever he thought of the two of you together on campus came to mind and he nodded slowly. The ‘buts were popping up in his mind again, filling him with growing dread and he was starting to regret his decision. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have brought it up, and let you guys live in oblivious bliss for a little longer. But, deep down, he knew that wouldn’t be true bliss. Like his grandma had said, you would only end up hurting yourselves because of your foolishness.

“But that’s not true, is it?” he started, glancing down at his hands which had started trembling again, “I don’t even know, like, what even made us think we only have the summer? Just because we met in summer? When you think of it like that, you feel ridiculous don’t you? We could literally be going to the same uni and we’re here, too anxious to even tell each other where we’re going.”

You snorted, glancing at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye. “You’re right.” Straightening, you turned your whole body to face him. “You know considering we’re going in a few weeks, we’ve probably put more effort into not mentioning uni in our conversations because it should’ve popped up in our conversations, at least, once before.”

“Exactly. We should just tell each other. Now. Before we, we lose our nerve or something.”

You nodded and bit your lip, while Sunghoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt your hand brush against his, so he opened his eyes and took your hands in his. Your hands were, surprisingly, clammy. He was going to say something about it, but, glancing at your face, he spotted the way your eyes were darting all around the room.

Instead of commenting on it, Sunghoon took another deep breath. “Ready?”

You nodded once. “Ready.”

A short silence ensued between the two of you, as neither of you said anything or even made a move to say anything. Your eyes finally landed on his and a nervous smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You were nervous, Sunghoon realised belatedly and squeezed your hand instinctively.

“On three?” he offered.

“On three.”

“One, two, three–University of Seoul.”

“Kyunghee University–wait, what the fuck?”

Sunghoon furrowed his brows at the shocked look on your face and your exclamation. He couldn’t even focus on the name of the university you’d said. All the anxieties that’d been bothering him were beginning to boil up and over at the simple lack of happiness on your face. He was almost sure he was the one with the clammy hands now and he moved to remove his hand from yours when you gripped his tightly and began to smile lightly.

“What the fuck,” you repeated, still as shocked, but with the beginnings of a grin on your face.

Sunghoon only looked at you with his brows still furrowed. He frowned slightly when you began laughing. “I’m confused.”

“I can’t believe I was so stressed about this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but still smiling directly at him. “Hoon, we’re so dumb. So fucking dumb.”

“I agree… I think? But, why, I–”

“What neighbourhood is the University of Seoul in?”

“_____, what? I–”

You placed a finger on his lips and shook your head. “Don’t overthink it. Just answer my question.”

He glanced between your finger on his lips and your face. “Dongdaemun-gu.”

“Dongdaemun-gu,” you repeated, your small smile growing into a full one now, “Guess where Kyunghee is?”

“Uh.” He looked away from your face, trying to picture a map of Seoul in his head, but he drew short (he’d always been bad at geography anyway). “Myeongnyun? Daehakno?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but your smile grew even wider. “Not even close. It’s in Hoegi-Dong.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, while you just looked at him with an expectant look on your face. He shook his head sheepishly and you just rolled your eyes.

“Hoon, they’re like five minutes away from each other.” You paused to let it sink in and laughed as Sunghoon’s brows finally relaxed and his eyes widened. “This is fucking stupid. We’re so fucking stupid.”

Sunghoon could only blink dumbly at you, while you just laughed at his dumbfounded shock. Immediately, his grandma’s words returned to him and a huge sense of embarrassment washed over him as he realised he’d proven her right. But, glancing between your intertwined hands and your wide smile, he found that he didn’t mind the embarrassment if it meant he still had a space with you.

(He’d do nearly anything to have that with you, he realised.)

You broke him out of his stupor by wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering, “So, Hoon, how do you feel now knowing that we’ll be, like, five minutes away from each other?”

“Want me to be honest?” he asked, placing his hands back on your waist (where they just seemed to fit perfectly, he noticed) and grinning softly when you nodded. “I feel really fucking embarrassed. Like, for weeks I’ve just been thinking of how much I’d miss you and wondering if I should even ask you out since we might not even see each other ever again. And, in the back of my head, I knew it was dumb because, if we wanted to make it work, we could make it work for sure. But, it was hard to remember that and–”

“Hoon, hoon,” you interrupted, giggling slightly and tightening your grip on his neck, “now, you’re the one talking too much.”

Sunghoon paused, taking a second to process what was going on. You were in front of him, hands wrapped around his neck, and smiling widely like he made you the happiest person in the world. He was in front of you, hands wrapped around your waist, and still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you two would be five minutes away from each other nearly every day–the closest to a campus couple he could ever ask for. He didn’t believe in fate (the same way he hadn’t believed in perfect first kisses, but he’d seen just how well that’d worked out for him), but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that something more than luck had landed you two in this situation.

He sighed out loud and rested his head against yours. ”God, I feel like I aged twenty years worrying about all of this. It feels a bit silly now, doesn’t it?”

“A bit is an understatement, don’t you think?” you replied, settling yourself in his lap. He froze a bit, and you moved to get up, but he shook his head and brought you closer. You smiled. “Besides, you’d probably still look good as a thirty-nine-year-old.”

“Oh, gross.” He scrunched up his nose as he moved closer to you, his hands running up and down your sides. “I don’t even want to imagine myself over thirty yet.”

“Really?” you raised a brow, arms locking around his neck and eyes flickering to his lips. “You’d be a hot DILF though.”

He snorted. “God, shut up.”

Your smile widened, a knowing glint in your eye. “Don’t make me say the cheesy rom-com line, Hoon.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, lips a breadth away from yours, before he kissed you.

Now, this was the desperate, intense kiss he’d been imagining earlier. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the anticipation you’d both been harbouring before or the elation at what you’d just found out, but you both pulled out the works with teeth, tongue–everything. Sunghoon couldn’t begin to describe how he felt, what you were making him feel, but all he knew was he didn’t want it to end.

And when you kissed him on his cheek, tugged on his hand, and pulled him out into the chaos of the party, smiling at him all the while like he was the only guy in the world, he knew it never would.

Epilogue – S is for Summer Fling

You two had decided on the early-morning pancake at-home date.

Evidently so, as you were in nothing but a hoodie of his and his old gym shorts (a fact that Sunghoon had known since yesterday, when you’d slept over at his after Jake’s party, but he was still struggling to grasp), he was in another one of his hoodies and sweatpants, and you were both still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The rich smell of butter wafted all around Sunghoon’s kitchen, accompanied by the sizzling sound of him pouring pancake batter on the greasy pan. Besides the sizzles, and the occasional yawn from you, it was a completely silent morning, as Sunghoon concentrated all his efforts into impressing you with his cooking skills.

“So does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, breaking the silence and Sunghoon’s focus.

He blinked, glad he was facing the stove and not where you sitting behind the kitchen island, and found that he couldn’t stop blinking. Was he your boyfriend? It was like you read his mind because that’s all he’d been thinking of since the moment he woke up with you in his arms. He’d fallen asleep on many hot summer nights, but he’d never woken up as warm as he had that morning. It was a feeling he’d spent minutes basking in, tracing every one of your resting features with his eyes and wondering how he’d function as your boyfriend, waking up nearly every morning with this same warmth in his chest. It almost seemed too good to be his reality. And if he was your boyfriend, he thought, that meant you were his and–

“Hoon! The pancakes!” you yelled and Sunghoon cursed loudly.

He moved the pan off the stove and turned on the kitchen hood, but it was too late. The pancake was charred beyond recognition and, looking down at it, he wondered how he hadn’t smelt the tinging scent of the burnt pancake.

Sunghoon sighed as he chucked away the pancakes. “I’m sorry, _____, that was the last bit of pancake batter we had. If you don’t mind, I can quickly run to the store and–”

“Don’t worry about it, Hoon,” you said, cutting him off as you slid off the island seat. He couldn’t see where you were, or where you were going, so he stifled his breath a bit when you slid up beside him and thrust your phone in his face. “Besides, we can order in.”

He spared a glance at your face, preparing himself for any signs of disappointment or irritation, but you were just smiling at him with a soft look in your eyes.

His brows furrowed. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you started, shrugging, “but I can wait a couple of minutes.”

Sunghoon bit his lip, a protest and another apology on the tip of his tongue, and furrowed his brows further. Your eyes traced his movements, and you placed two gentle fingers on the fold between his brows, smoothing them out. He didn’t say anything as you did. He just lowered his head and frowned slightly at the smoking scent reminding him of his failed attempt at breakfast. You simply grinned at the obvious frustration and disappointment on his face, a look rising in your eyes that he didn’t catch as he chewed on his lower lip.

“Hoon,” you called out softly, waiting for him to raise his head. When he did, you took a step closer to him, a coy look in your eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He was about to furrow his brows again in confusion, but your words from earlier replayed in his head as your smile only grew more teasing, and Sunghoon was sure he was turning as red as the strawberries on the counter behind him.

The boy averted his gaze from you, murmuring, “Well, I was hoping to ask if I could have the honour of being your boyfriend after, you know, we had food that I’d made in our stomachs and proper clothes on our bodies, but I guess so.”

“The honour?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow and muffling a laugh. Sunghoon glared at you lightly when you let a giggle slip, at which you apologised. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll bestow you with the honour of being my boyfriend after we run to the grocery store so you can fix up some pancakes and ask me out already.”

You almost laughed again at how quickly he perked up at your words and, this time, he rolled your eyes and smiled slightly at your teasing grin.

As he grabbed his keys, held your hand, and slipped out the door, the same warmth he’d felt that morning bloomed from where your hands met to every other bit of his body. He’d never imagined this, kissing his soon-to-be something in his car before a grocery run, was where he’d find himself after he’d had his first kiss on a night that felt like years ago. He couldn’t even imagine where he’d be with you in a couple of years. All he knew was he was glad you’d ended up as more than a summer fling.

feedback & reblogs are welcome and appreciated! ♡♡

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[xxrubens-liliumxx]

No Strings Attached - Chapter One

Well, went and got so obsessed with Pressure and Sebastian that I've gone and started writing my own fanfic! This will be an OCxCanon story - because I'm trash - with some mature and explicit themes, as well as some smut/spice. Along with those I plan to add in some of the classic tropes: like angst, hurt/comfort - maybe some 'he falls first' but who knows - and fluff. I will try and add every chapter update onto Tumblr if I remember, but if people really like this, I'll provide an Ao3 link which will serve as the story's home base. I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter! (THIS IS ALSO AN +18 STORY AND ACCOUNT. MDNI) Summary: It's been half a year since Hadel Blacksite has gone on lockdown.

Urbanshade sends in one last EXR-P team into Hadal Blacksite to retrieve their Crystal. Naturally, they die at the hands of the monsters inside that hellish place...all except for one.

Riley Park, a woman who has barely said a word since her sentencing, is somehow the last survivor trapped inside the facility. Desperate for the pardon promised to her by Urbanshade, she's determined to survive and win her freedom.

Sebastian Solace won't stop at nothing until he's brought Urbanshade down. At least, that's what he thought, until he comes across an Expendable who's different from all the ones before her. Finding himself allured to her, he decides to make her a temporary offer he hopes she won't refuse.

In a place where death is around every corner, what shame is there in engaging in a little thrill to feel alive for a while? Chapter One

“EMERGENCY!...EMERGENCY!...EMERGENCY!”

The security alarm rang from above - had been ringing for God knew how many minutes. Then, like clockwork, the pre-recorded voice followed:

“Please, evacuate to the nearest escape pod or to the nearest docking station. This is not a drill. Repeat: This is not a drill.”

The docking station was bathed in red.

Crawling on the floor, gripping a hand to his bleeding face, was Doctor Liam Hayes. A man in his late forties, pale skin, gaunt complexion and long wavy blonde hair that was usually kept in a ponytail. The white sleeve of his lab coat was stained with his own blood, which streamed down his wrist and his forearm in crimson rivulets.

Using his other hand, he crawled towards the awaiting submarine, unaware that he was leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. The door was wide open, the inside completely vacant. All he needed to do was get there.

At least he hoped it was the submarine he was looking at. His left eye was virtually gone, and blood had gotten into his right one, making his impaired vision blotchy.

He couldn’t hold back his whimpers of pain. Even moving across the ground hurt. The skin on the left side of his face felt like it was on fire from the gash wound. But Hayes willed himself to move fast, desperate to get to the submarine.

His very life depended on it.

A shadow fell over Hayes. A large one.

Sensing it, Hayes began to crawl faster, completely terrified. He muttered into the air:

“Have to...get...away-!”

He shrieked when something harshly grabbed him by the back of his lab coat, picking him off the ground and shoving him onto his back as roughly as possible. The rough movement sent a shock of pain through Hayes’ wound, making him cry out again.

He still had enough strength to keep his hand clutched to his face, feeling even more blood seeping from between his fingers.

When Hayes opened his only eye, all he saw was a massive figure bathed in red before him. And though he couldn’t properly make out his face, Hayes knew he was looking down at him. Just as he knew one of Z-13's hands was covered in his blood. He'd just stepped into the docking station when the beast struck, those sharp claws cut right through the skin on the left side of Hayes' face. 

Three ice-blue eyes glowed brightly from the silhouette of Z-13. They pierced right into his core, clutching his fast-beating heart with a fear Liam Hayes had never felt before.

“What’s the matter, Doctor?” Said Z-13. His voice was cold, but there was a twinge of mockery in his words. “You used to be so happy to see me." He chuckled then. "Though I guess you won't be seeing very much anymore.”

Hayes once again tried to crawl away, panic beginning to take over him. He moved only a few inches before a long and scaly serpent tail coiled around his waist. It squeezed him tightly before promptly slamming him back down on the ground.

Feeling the air being squeezed from him, Hayes coughed. Blood sputtered from his lips with every other word. “Z-Z…Z-13! Please, you must-must understand…!” he breathed, his lungs screaming in pain with every breath. “What-What I did…it wasn’t-wasn’t…out of malice!”

He cried out when Z-13 squeezed his tail just a little more. Hayes could have sworn he felt something beginning to crack.

“Careful now, Doctor Hayes.” He warned, his voice growing darker. “Lying to me isn’t in your best interest right now.”

Painfully, Hayes wheezed out. “I’ve NEVER lied to you, Z-13!”

As if in retaliation, Z-13 squeezed him again. This time Hayes not only heard something crack, but felt it. He cried out so loudly he thought his voice box would give out. Tears welled up in his right eye and he tried - even if pointlessly - to push the monster’s tail off him with both hands.

All he did was smear blood on Z-13’s dark gray scales.

He could just hear him speaking over the ringing in his ears.

“Bold thing of you to say when all you've done is lie." Z-13 said. Malice dripped like venom from his lips. "You, your fellow scientists and your superiors. I wish I could say I was surprised when I found out that the whole reason I even got that poor excuse of a 'promotion' was because my mutations were irreversible at that point. Little something you failed to mention to me, just before I was taken out of your care."

Hayes scowled at him as much as he could through the pain, one of his canines bearing into his bottom lip so hard he could taste his own blood on his tongue. "So, that's what all of this is about?" he growled, his voice hoarse from his scream.

He knew Z-13 could be bloodthirsty, but he never would have suspected him to be capable of such chaos. To cause an entire facility lockdown over a blessing Hayes had given him? 

"Oh, spare me the shock, Doctor." Z-13 retorted. "Even you're smart enough to know there's a lot more to all this. From what I've gathered from a few of my new friends, you, your associates and your superiors had this coming for a long time. I'm simply the hand that spun the wheel in motion." 

Hayes' scowl intensified at Z-13. He wished the beast still had that shock collar around his neck. Hayes would have dialed that device right up to a high number and watched him writhe in pain on the ground until he begged for mercy. A mercy Hayes would delay and delay, until he was certain Z-13 remembered not to bite the hand that fed him. 

He didn't hold back another throaty snarl at him. "I told them taking you out of my custody was a bad - AUGH!" his words were cut short when Z-13's tail tightened yet again.  

His cry of pain was ignored as Z-13 began to speak. “Naked truth, Doc? I’ve thought of a hundred different ways of killing you. Maybe even thousands. I mean, all I had time to do over the years in your care was to think. And let me tell you, each idea was more gruesome than the last. But, after some more recent thought, I've decided that the simplest route is the best. That being -”

Hayes’ screaming was silenced when he felt a warm hand grasp him by the throat. A hand that was so large that he felt the tips of Z-13’s bloody claws scrape against the back of his neck. 

" - Choking the very life from you with my bare hands."

Keeping his throat tight as he could, Hayes started to struggle. He tried to force Z-13's hand off, yet all he could manage was tightly grasping his wrist. When he felt him beginning to squeeze around his windpipe, Hayes tried again, this time trying to pry off those sharp claws. But his efforts were only met with a chuckle of sheer amusement. 

"Come on, Doctor. I've been dreaming of this moment for years now. The least you could do is try and put up a better fight."     

He met those glowing eyes again. He took in a handful of deep breaths, ignoring the pain they caused him, so he could choke out. "Killing me...won't make you human again." 

A pause followed. A very long one. Hayes was expecting to die getting the last word. A blessing he never thought he'd get from Z-13.

Or so he thought.

The beast replied, sounding indifferent now. "No. It won't. But you know what, Doc?" then the bulb protruding from his head brightened enough for Hayes to see the wide, fang-filled grin on Z-13’s face. A face that was a perfect middle-ground between the man he once was and the many aquatic creatures Hayes had injected into his very DNA. "That won't make your death any less satisfying." 

[just-my-type-x]

Curly Heads and Caffe Lattes

A little something from me to u bc i had this idea rotting in my drafts for months now. Hope u enjoy it ♥️

Smut, mentions of alcohol

I walk inside the coffee shop and take in the comfy vibe of the dim lit room, with several tables and chairs for upcoming visitors. I sigh in relief when I see the coffee shop almost empty, the early morning not being suitable for everyone.

I order my coffee and I sit at a table close to the window, with a cozy view of the neighbourhood, and I take out my laptop to start working on my project. Deep inside my thoughts and several opened files on my computer, my attention is captured when a man starts swearing and the sound of spilled coffee makes me check my own table to see if my cup is still intact. I sigh in relief and check the incident out.

The curly headed man shakes his hands in a manner to get all the liquid off, while checking out his jeans and the bottom of his white shirt, while the barista is trying desperately to clean the counter and the cashier's machine. The barista mumbles a lot of sorry's, but the curly head keeps on assuring him everything is fine. He picks up his new coffee while he's looking around for a pack of napkins. I look on my table to check if there's any on mine and I pick it up, waving it towards him.

"Here. You look like you need it", I smile and he approaches me, smiling back.

"Thank you, tho it won't help me much.", he chuckles as he presses the napkins onto the fabric of his jeans.

"I heard cold water might help, tho I'm not sure your shirt is going to survive the coffee attack"

He laughs out loud and I smile, his laughter being way cuter than I expected. I take a sip of my drink to hold back the huge smile on my face.

"I'd probably give it to my mom. She handles everything, especially clothing emergencies. They're her favourite.", I chuckle at his confession and I nod.

"Same, whenever I need anything, I call for help. I send an SOS emoji and she sends me a full on screenshot of her notes. They're even sorted, stained clothes, salty food, headaches. Those are the problems and each has a solving.", I laugh and he joins me, which makes my cheeks burn.

"She sounds exactly like my mom.", he throws one last tissue in the bin close to our table. "I'm Brad.", he extends his arm towards me and I shake it happily.

"Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, what are you doing here? Actually no, let me try to figure you out on my own.", he narrows his look and studies me, looking me up and down. I turn my head away, smiling, unable to hold his eye contact anymore.

"Be my guest"

"You seem pretty basic", he says as he sits more comfortable in the chair right in front of me, leaning back.

"I beg your pardon", i blink a few times to see if i understood his stereotyping correctly.

"You look like the type of girl who wouldn't trade her caramel macchiato for anything in this world. You might've gotten the ham and mozzarella croissant as well, got it a little bit heated in the oven.", he checks our surroundings. "You got your laptop right there, you're probably behind with a uni project. The fact that you had time to put make up on shows you're not stressed about the deadline, because you know you're gonna nail the subject and you can touch all the topics in a short amount of time." Brad scans my face for any more clues, but i relax and let my frown disappear, switching to a mischievous grin on my face.

Brad smirks and takes a sip of his latte, pointing at me. "It's not that hard to read you. I've seen you around lately, which leads me to adding that you're here from another country, based on your accent. And", he raises his finger one more time, drawing a circle up in the air, "this is a café where the same 20 people from the neighbourhood come every day. I've only seen you in here since, I'd say... October? That's Uni schedule"

He intertwines his fingers together on the table and straighten his back, waiting for my approval, his smirk never leaving his face, which makes his dimples pop out. I smile and shake my head, leaning forward on the table, sitting just the way he does. We both look like we're about to spill some call-the-police worthy secrets.

"Trying to read me was pretty hot, I'm not gonna lie.", i lean back down on my chair. "Too bad you're too far off the map, Bradley.", i take a sip of my coffee and smirk at his confusion.

"Oh, really? Then tell me where I'm wrong. Is it the coffee? Is it a pumpkin spice?", we both laugh and i take off the plastic cap. "And why didn't you say you know me?"

"Nope. It's an unsweetened latte, actually i don't even know what's it called, it's 2 shots of espresso and some milk", i pause as we chuckle at my dumb self, who all of a sudden started looking inside the cup. "And it's nicer to have a normal and actual conversation with you, other than spoiling that I might know you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.", I take a sip from my cup.

"Are you a coffee fortune teller now?", he laughs and i hit his arm playfully.

"Yes, it says I'm gonna beat your ass up"

"Please don't, i need my face next week for our concert. And I really appreciate it, but it's fine, don't worry. Now, tell me, what else was wrong?", he intertwines his fingers on the table, waiting for my answers.

"I am working on a project, but not for Uni, it's for an agency. I'm way ahead of my Uni duty, thank you for underestimating me tho.", i tap him on the arm and sarcastically thank him, which makes us both laugh.

I turn off my laptop and put it inside my bag, carrying on with my conversation with Brad. We talk about how I moved to Birmingham for school and work opportunities and he listens carefully to everything I tell him that happened leading up to this moment. We order another set of coffees and I pick them up carefully, not like he did earlier. He talk about touring, his bar and songwriting.

"Oh, I wanna go to your parents' bar so badly. I didn't have enough free time to get there yet", I lay my hands on top of the table like I've just made a huge realisation. His eyes widen.

"You've been here for two months, y/n, stop overworking yourself. Tonight we're going out. How does that sound?", Brad smiles proudly and picks up his phone to check the time. It's 12, how does 6PM sound?"

"Uhhh I think it's ok?", I stutter but nod, smiling. "You don't have to do this, Brad. It's fine."

"It would be my pleasure. Plus, you saved my pants.", we laugh at his statement.

"That's a way of thanking me", I chuckle and we carry on with our coffees.

Hours pass and Brad and I pull up to the back entrance of the bar and he holds the door for me.

We get a table and he instructs the waiter to bring us their specialties, which I don't say no to. We munch on a few almonds and chips and we drink a little bit of everything, while talking about our lives and getting to know each other better. Later into the night, the music and the idea of dancing the night away is becoming more and more appealing to the both of us. As if he read my mind, Brad takes me by the hand and I follow him into a back room full of supplies, where the music is still loud enough to be heard by us. We end up dancing around, stumbling upon boxes of liquor and kicking down bags of all sorts of nuts.

"I'm a sure victim tonight if we break anything", he laughs as he picks up a bag off the floor.

"If anybody asks, I've never met you", I raise my hands in defence and I jump on a free table, sitting on it. I let out a yawn. Brad looks in my direction and approaches me, the same action of eyeing me up and down present. I smile and bite my lip, looking away from him, the alcohol and the entire day adding up to my growing frustration.

Brad touches my face gently and turns my face towards his, so I could look him in the eyes, but my eyes drop on his lips. I try to look up, but I find myself looking back at his lips. He licks his lips and I feel my body warming up. As if he knew, both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Wanna go out of here?", he asks, looking back and forth from my lips to my eyes.

"We live far from here", my voice comes out shaky, my breath heavy. I let out a muffled moan as he crashes his lips on mine and uses his hands to push my legs apart so he would fit between my legs, closing the distance between us. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to take full control over me and my feels. I grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, my free hand travelling down his torso.

"Fuck", he whispers, kissing abd biting my jaw. His hands grab me by my hips and squeeze with force, making me gasp in slight pain. Brad moves his hands higher, grabbing the hem of my blouse and hiding his hands under it, rubbing the exposed skin. I do the same, but i pull his sweater up, until he takes it off by himself. He allows me to trace his torso with my finger, while my eyes expect his chest and abdomen.

"That's too much staring, love, i don't have the patience for that", he smirks and i bite my lip, pulling him back into a kiss. He takes off my top and kisses my breasts, pushing me to get lower on the table so he could have full access to my jeans. "May i?", he looks at me with a raised eyebrow and i nod. He kisses under my belly button and i chuckle.

Brad takes off my jeans and I'm quick to unzip his, letting gravity do it's thing.

Brad's hot breath falls on top of my chest as he lets out a soft laugh. His fingers run softly on my leg, drawing small circles on my skin, teasing me. His fingers find their way between my legs and he traces the outline of my pussy through the panties i wear. With my head fallen backwards, i moan frustrated when he takes his hand away, only to take off my bra.

"I just want you to know that I'm not like this usually", I say breathing heavily.

"Like this meaning so fucking horny, wet and so desperate for me to fuck you?", he smirks on the side of my neck, his lips pressing on my hot flesh. Kissing down my neck, he bites on my collar bone, his hand wrapping around my neck, only for him to drag it downwards, over my exposed chest and breasts.

"You get what i mean", i whimper almost, as his fingers start teasing me again through the fabric

"Don't worry, love, it's been enough stereotypes for one day.", he laughs and kisses me one more time before taking my panties off. He takes off his boxers and i stare respectfully at his length, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Brad grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on himself, positioning the tip at my entrance. We gasp when he is fully inside, the fullness feeling unbeatable all of a sudden.

"Fuck, move Bradley", i grab on his shoulders and he pulls me closer to his body, his hands on my back.

Brad moves slowly in and out of me, sighing and holding back his moans.

"You're so tight, fuck. You feel so good, y/n", he grabs my hair in his fist, giving himself enough space to bury his head in the crook of my neck. I try holding back my moans with every stroke, and i let go of Brad's shoulders and i lean back on the table. He wastes no time and grabs my hips harshly, building up the speed. "What a sight, oh my God", he groans and throws one of my legs on his shoulder. I bite my hand in order to stop a loud moan to come out and he chuckles. "Let it out, babe. I know it feels good"

"It feels amazing, keep going like this", i plead and he keeps pushing hard between my legs. The rhythm makes me lose my mind and i feel the familiar tingling feeling building inside my body. "I'm close"

Brad squeezes my hips harder, building up his pace. I throw my head back and arch my back, my body trembling from the intensity of the moment. Brad's orgasm follows soon after, his moans proving me that he enjoyed it as much as i did.

We get back to our senses and get dressed, both of us still breathing heavily and smiling.

"Thank you for that, i didn't realise how much i needed that", i say as i run my hands through my hair.

He walks next to me and kisses me quickly. "It was amazing. I'm sorry for the circumstances, i promise next time it'll be in a proper location", we both laugh

"I'm patiently waiting for that next time.", i wink at him and i start walking towards the door, him following close behind.

"Hmm, tomorrow?"

I laugh at his impatience. "I'll make it work", i shake my head,smiling

"Perfect"

[fanfic-corner]

Tony Stark Has a Heart Fic Recs

Hello everyone!! I've gathered up some Irondad fics with the tag "Tony Stark Has a Heart" for you, and I hope you enjoy reading them! I have a lot of these bookmarked, so I might make a second post with even more of them at a later date!

Don't talk to me or my son ever again by Maicaly (2.7k)

Tony is having the worst day ever, and now he has a meeting with the Rogue Avengers. What he doesn't expect is certain spider baby to proclaim himself Tony Stark Protector.

I'm Not Going to Wake Up if You're Going to Yell At Me by itsreallylaterightnow (2.8k)

“Well, I think there’s a cave right up the side of that hill. I should be able to get us a fire started easily enough. That, or run the risk of having a popsicle of a Peter to return home to your aunt.” 

“S-s-she’d kill you.” Peter said, his tone light, but the weight of the situation was settling on him.

“Yes, she would. Which is why I don’t intend on letting that happen any time soon.”

Career Day by superhusbands4ever  (3.5k)

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Peter’s enhanced senses picked up the familiar voice from outside the door. “I had a meeting this morning and then I got lost looking for the class… anyway, I’m here for Peter? Peter Parker?”

He frowned at hearing his name, still unsure what exactly was going on. He watched as his teacher continued to stand and stare out the door for a minute before seemingly remembering herself and taking a step back.

“Of course! If you could just go sit next to him until your turn, he’s in the back on the right side.”

The man stepped through the door and Peter gaped with the rest of the class as Tony Stark, in his signature suit and goatee, sporting a pair of red sunglasses and carrying a suitcase walked through the door.

and stay out! by iron_spider (3.6k)

“Okay,” Peter says, and he grabs Tony’s wrist. “Okay but I’m actively escaping. At the moment. That’s what I’m doing, at the moment, and that’s what I’m doing. Right now.” He lets out a little huff. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yup,” Tony says. “A bang-up job.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re really killing it.”

“I know.”

Tony is nervous, because the kid is slurring and he’s severely loopy and that can only mean drugs. Were they to keep him docile? Were they to fucking experiment on him? Tony’s not in the suit anymore so he can’t see his heart rate but he knows it’s probably skyrocketing.

Cyanide? In My Shawarma? by losingmymindtonight (4.7k)

Pepper convinces Tony to bring Peter along on his first dinner with the Rogue Avengers since their pardoning.

Poor Tony had thought the whole thing was a recipe for disaster before someone decided to shove some cyanide in his food.

'Cause You're Hot Then You're Cold by sparksaam (5k)

Only Peter Parker could get both heat stroke AND hypothermia, all within the span of an hour.

Responsible For Making Sure You're Responsible by blondsak and Marvelous_Writer (6.8k)

Peter knows he’s hurt badly enough that he can’t just slap a bunch of band-aids on his injuries, and especially the giant, still-oozing puncture wounds on his back and along his shoulders from the tips of Toomes’ wings. But it’s not like he can just stumble into an emergency room and ask to get stitched up. So where to go instead?

May would have a heart attack if she saw him right now, not to mention immediately figure out his secret. Ned would also definitely freak out, probably waking his parents in the process. Mr. Stark was an option, but Peter wasn’t about to bother him, not after how the man had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter ever again.

So no hospital, no May, no Ned, and no Mr. Stark just left… Happy.

it's hard to dance with the devil on your back by MagicaLyss (8.1k)

Tony woke to the same damp old cave he’d woken up in last time. Except one thing is different.

There’s a boy, no older than sixteen years old, chained up in an identical wooden chair across from him. The boy is unconscious, curly hair falling in front of his eyes, head resting against his own chest.

A boy.

Not a man. Not an adult. Just a child.

In a cave, somewhere in Afghanistan with crazy terrorists who’ve already done open-heart surgery on Tony without anesthetics. Who knows what they would do, or have already done, to the boy across from him.

never become by krystalpomme (9.3k)

after a lab day gone wrong, peter travels back in time to 1992. he needs tony's help to get him back to his own time, but can he trust himself to not reveal the truth of their relationship to his 21 year old father figure?

meanwhile tony is fighting his own battles. peter makes him realize his one true fear would never come true.

The Morning Will Come (and the dream stealing your sleep will end) by Winterturtle  (12k)

After a tragic incident, Peter Parker is left orphaned for the second time in his life. With no one else to take him in, Peter decided not to take his chance on foster care. Living in an abandoned building and the crows as his only company, the young hero is doing his best to maintain the illusion of a happy kid in front of Mr. Stark - one of the two remaining links to his past, happier life.

Look, technically, Peter wasn’t lying. It was just that Mr. Stark has never asked specifically.

Good publicity by Bergen (16k)

Between Peter Parker barely speaking, and Spider-Man being the ultimate chatterbox, how was Tony ever supposed to figure out that they were one and the same person?

Whatever it Takes by sparksaam (21k)

Peter froze suddenly, his heart practically leaping into his throat. His eyes had made contact with the man in the front seat, only to realize that the person gazing back at him was not Tony. Instead, a tall, gruff-looking man with a hoodie and a red bandana over his mouth occupied the place where Mr. Stark had been sitting just minutes before.

“Don’t move,” the man grunted forcefully “or we’ll blow Stark’s brains out.”

Technicalities by Tess_Moon (21k)

“Multiple kids of wealthy and influential individuals have gone missing this morning. NYPD is actively investigating the disappearances.”

Tony didn´t think much of it when he first read the headline. Technically he didn´t have any kids, right...?

Too bad the kidnappers didn´t care about the technicalities of those things.

hope is the strongest power by sarayin (24k)

“I want you out of my house. Pack your things and leave,” May said in as strong as a voice as she could through the tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and shook her head before making her way into her room, not stopping to look at Peter even once.

Not Peter, she corrected herself. Spiderman.

OR the one in which peter gets kicked out after may finds out and has to now learn how to survive when hope seems bleak.

5 times Tony joked about Peter being part spider by KatinaMoon (33k)

+1 time he definitely didn't

The One Where Peter is Tony's Weakness by JinxQuickfoot (53k)

“I see you are confused. In a moment, I will allow you to look closer. But first, you must understand the position you are in, in full.” Banich rolled out an ancient TV screen and, when he turned it on, Tony felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

It was Peter.

OR A Sokovian doctor needs Tony's help to 'fix' his granddaughter, and Peter gets pulled into the middle of it.

Come, My Darling, Homeward Bound by buckleyirondad (62k)

Held captive for five years in an eleven-by-eleven foot shed, Peter and Morgan finally break free.

Peter is thrown back into the life that he was torn from and struggles to find his place in the world.

Morgan was a baby when they were taken, so she experiences everything and everyone, for the first time.

Tony struggles to take his eyes off them. May wants to hold them in her arms, for the rest of time. Pepper can't stop counting the days they've lost.

It's difficult - Peter is a changed person, and Morgan has no memory of them.

Let Me Know if It Gets Above a Six by Sundial_at_Night (65k)

“Mr. Loki?” asked the Spider cautiously. “Aren’t you—like—a bad guy?” he asked, voice full of only curiosity, as far as Loki could tell.

His first thought was, yes.

His second thought was no.

His third thought was, sometimes?

“It varies from moment to moment,” Loki answered honestly, prying his eyes open after they threatened to fall close.

“But on a scale of one to ten, where are you at right now?”

“Maybe a three?”

The Spider-child nodded. “Cool,” he replied. “Let me know if it gets above a six.

Neon Liar (Hiding in Plain Sight) by isaDanCurtisproduction (70k)

Peter is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or more literally, he's stuck between the will of ten other teenagers and the knowledge that if anyone finds out he's living with the Avengers he can kiss his normal high school life goodbye. Can he keep it a secret from his classmates that he's living with the world's loudest superheroes? And can he keep it a secret from the Avengers that he's accidentally bringing his classmates home for a field trip?

And once he starts hiding things, keeping secrets, and lying, will he be able to stop?

And even more importantly: will Ned be able to keep his mouth shut long enough for Peter's secrets to stay a secret?

At least MJ can be trusted to keep a lid on things

Priorities by JLMonroe1234 (149k)

Tony had been in the cave for a month. Waiting. Planning. Healing. Biding his time until his creation would be ready and durable enough to get him home. With Yinsen's help and Tony's expertise, he would save them both.

But when an injured teenager is brought into the mix, Tony must reevaluate his priorities and decide what's more important; a speedy escape, or rescuing the boy with the spider tattoo?

ever in your favor by iron_spider (153k)

Peter startles awake when someone shakes him.

“Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.”

He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

Happy reading, and thank you to all of these fantastic authors for sharing their works with us! If you ever want to request a trope for a fic rec list or just want to chat, please send me an ask! And in the meantime, I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I did :D

[star-vessel1237]

Pfft- Chaotic thought. Baal!Yuu vs a different Baalmon. Like, this Baalmon is stealing various students knowledge to bait Baal!Yuu into a contest to reclaim those bits of knowledge. So just, eventually people put two and two together and just, they burst in on one of these contests to help out.

I can see this playing out. A different Baalmon somehow managed to make it to Twisted Wonderland, a spread of students seem to loose their memories and knowledge, a note that basically translates to "Bring me the other Baalmon or I'll keep stealing your knowledge".

Baal!Yuu then goes off on their own to challenge the other Baalmon, and it ends with the other students helping out with trivial knowledge from both their hobbies and Twisted Wonderland that the Baalmon didn't know. But that's the reasonable response the Baalmon and many other NRC students thought would happen. But what if Baal!Yuu choose the more chaotic 'efficient' answer.

(Warning: Violence and Cursing )

Baalmon: Aww, hello there fellow Baalmon. Or shall I call you the Gluttonous Scholar?

Baal!Yuu: Oh great, the dramatic type.

Baalmon: Now then are you ready to endure a battle of wits and knowledge, a game in which one of us will rain superior and-

Baal!Yuu: No, you lost that chance.

Baalmon: ... I beg your pardon.

Baal!Yuu: Well you see, the past me would've taken your offer without hesitation. Just to humiliate you to the whole Digital World. But you see an unexpected change happened as of late.

Baalmon: Uhmm...

Baal!Yuu: After being sucked into another world. or "isekaied" as some may call it, I have grown to much emotional attachment to the students here. Most of which I had unfortunately become 'friends' with and some because I have to act as the therapist, of traumatized kids. Because some CHEAP. A#$. CROW-MAN, can't hire a fraging counselor!

Baalmon: Uhh, hey man are you okay?

Baal!Yuu: Now you dare threaten my friends, and I've been through so much with them that if the Seven Great Demon Lords, nay, YGGDRASILL their damn self were to kidnap them, I would erase every part of their code just to get them back.

Baal!Yuu: To cut my rant short before I go on longer. *Click* Hope you know how to dance.

Baalmon: Frag-

Riddle: Yuu, we're here to- WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?

Baalmon: Please. *Weeze* Spare me.

Baal!Yuu: What did I say if you wanted mercy?

Pawn Chessmon (W): Prefect Yuu please! You're going to far.

Lowemon: He's right, if you keep at it there will be nothing left.

Baal!Yuu: Falsehood! Now, what did I say about mercy?

Baalmon: Okay, okay, I yield. *tear* Here's your friends' knowledge bacck.

Baal!Yuu: Thank you. Now come on ya damn idiot. We're going to the infirmary, you're lucky I went easy on you.

Baalmon: I'm sorry what- *fwoosh*

Jamil: ... When they say 'easy', do they mean...

Leona: Yeah, that's how they deal with overblots.

Jamil: I see. *Internally: I'm never pissing them off again.*

(The Baalmon was actually fine and after they healed they became a tutor and changed themselves into a Wisemon so people wouldn't mistake them for Baal!Yuu. They're both mostly chill now.)

That's all for now. Hope you enjoyed.

[lyferifaes]

hey there stranger.

i realise i am probably too late for the game, and you're probably inactive, but i pray this message reaches you in good health and best intention. i have been following your writings, and i wish to tell you how much i appreciate your work. i admire your writing style, it is ebbing with your passion and love for the anime, and every chapter shatters my soul and weakens my wrists. it takes great talent to dedicate so much research, time, and effort to write an post-canon fix it in such beautiful shape and form and i wish you knew how much your writing has inspired me.

i love dororo, in ways you can imagine. it saved my life, and it's undoubtedly the best anime i have ever watched, not only with it's heavy symbolism and top-tier storywriting, but also the characters and fights have been orchestrated so splendidly. i decided to write a fanfiction myself, but hesitated to press a single letter because i was afriad i might ruin in a perfectly good show. it's already perfect as it is, i would think. and in all my time i haven't seen someone articulate and describe each characters' stories, agony, anguish, and depth as much as you do. not to mention your art work in beyond astonishing. believe me when i dropped my jaw seeing your work. i want to learn a lot from you.

remember when munetsuna wished that he was to craft a katana so powerful that it would stop wars? that people would be so astonished by the sword, then would surrender? you are that sword. you have such great potential in you, and pardon my poor phrasing, as i am a novice writer and a mere admirer, i wish to learn a lot from you. im not exaggerating at all when i say that your works bring me to my knees. i am in love. truly. i apologize in advance, but i cried after i read the first chapter. it moved me that much.

if you were to write a book, please let me be one of the first few readers. i will support you with everything i got. i don't say this to pressure you, i simply wish you know how grateful i am to have found your work.

there are no questions.

thank you so much. thank you.

Wow. I'm speechless. You know, this is probably one of the best and warmest feelings in the world—no, not to receive a compliment, and not to feel proud and pleased with myself (vanity never does you any good and I try not to get carried away), but to meet a soul resonating with mine—at least in one way, at this moment—to be able to feel so deeply everything I've put into this story and enjoy it. A perfectionist that I am, I always wanted to create something that everybody would like, until I realized that popularity is nothing, just numbers. But to reach even one person's heart is what truly matters to me. Meeting that person is like meeting a friend, such crossing of the paths is always a miracle of sorts. So let me give you at least a virtual hug! 🤗

I'm sorry for the late reply, I don't check my tumblr often lately as you can see, not because I've moved on or lost interest though. I hope I never really move on from Dororo, at least not until this fic is finished. And even then Dororo will remain a huge part of me. But yeah, I switch a lot between things (not fandoms though—enough is enough 😅), various things I write. I really hope to finish at least one of them and publish a book one day, and if it happens, I'll gladly send you one of the first copies! Haha although it may not happen before we all turn very old, I'm afraid, since as you can see I am a veeery sloooow writer. Also, it will be in my native language 😅 (writing in English was an experiment at first, a challenge to myself, and I admit there will be times when I regret putting myself through this lol)

May I ask you something, too? Please, don't hesitate to press letters, write! Just start and let your worlds take shape, let them be born. I was inspired a lot by the authors I admired, many of them are ficwriters, I've taken a lot from them. I'm happy if it's now my turn to pass some of that inspiration further. Really, really happy. 💖

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. xviii)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: general angst, brief allusion to ed, imbibed john paul jones

a/n:  shoutout to the anon who has said wf reminds them of lady chatterly i'm sorry i've never responded to you

pt. xviii, nightshade

“I think I want to. I think I’m ready to get back at it.”

The sound of keys jangling, scraping into the lock. Skkrrt…skrr…thnk…thnk…

Then his cursing. “Bloody hell.”

I made my way from the stairs to the door; the front hall was lit sparely by a candelabra wall sconce, casting eerie shadows on the dark wood paneling.

It was late. And he’d told me not to wait up, but I couldn’t stand to be in bed alone. I’d become so accustomed to his body next to mine, his warmth and weight always just a brush away.

More keys jangling. Mumbling. Another key shoved into the lock, angry and wrong.

Truthfully, I’d been anxious since John told me he’d be going to Plumpton for the evening. It was a last minute thing, a phone call that morning from Peter or Jimmy. Never clear which. The girls and I were already sitting around the breakfast table, his space auspiciously empty.

“Where’s Daddy?” Kiera asked.

“Yes, Julia, where’s John?” Annie followed up, vaguely scathing.

I glared at her. Ever since Annie came back, nighttime was the only time John and me could safely spend together without fear of her critical eye. No more playing house or stolen kisses while the girls’ backs were turned.

For all of John’s attempts at smoothing things over after Annie walked in on us, she remained relatively cool, at least to me. Our conversations always had a tense undercurrent. We could be near to enjoying ourselves when Annie would suddenly remember my indiscretions and freeze up on me.

Or she’d just be plain rude.

“Girls, you start eating. I’ll go check on your father,” I said as I got up from my spot at the table.

“Yes, who knows how long it might take Julia to…do whatever she does,” Annie added.

I turned to her sharply. “Do you mind?”

She didn’t look up from scrubbing a pan in the sink. “Pardon?”

“Do you mind holding back your commentary, Anna?”

Annie smiled at me saccharinely. “No, don’t mind at all.”

I rolled my eyes, but as soon as I turned to go, John swept in through the door, nearly walking right into me. “Oh!”

“Ah!” John exclaimed.

The girls giggled as we slapsticked around each other like the Three Stooges. That was our new default. Being terrified to accidentally touch in front of anyone.

“I was just coming to get you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” John went to his seat at the table, giving each of the girls an affectionate kiss. “Was caught up with a phone call. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“My eggs are cold and my juice is hot,” Tamara said with a dramatic sigh.

“Good thing today is a topsy-turvy kind of day,” John replied.

I sat back down. “What kind of phone call?”

John’s eyes shot up to mine. “Uhm. Business.”

I pursed my lips. This was a question I would not have asked when I was only his employee. As we’d gotten closer, I felt more entitled to know about his life. Follow-up questions, though, were for a wife. Not a…whatever I was.

It turned out, though, his caginess was not because I asked.

“I have to go out to Plumpton tonight,” John said to Annie and me after sending the girls to the playroom, the three of us sitting around the table over coffee and cigarettes.

“Whatever for?” Annie asked.

He sighed in resignation. “Peter’s insistent it’s just a ‘friendly get-together’. You know the boys, their wives. To which I said I couldn’t possibly be there. But then he pushed and pushed and it became clear quite quickly that this was much more of a…professional engagement.”

Annie poured him another cup of coffee. “You think it’s the same old song and dance, then?” 

“Naturally.” John sipped his cup. “And you know when Peter wants something, he can be very persuasive.”

“That’s a generous description,” I said.

John hid a smile. “Anyway, I won’t be at dinner tonight.”

“Well, we’ll be just fine. As always.” I wanted to reach out and squeeze his wrist, but with Annie’s eyes on us, everything was off-limits.

John sighed. “Not worried about you. Worried about me. They’ll all be their with their wives and they’ll have me cornered into conversation after conversation. Trying to convince me of something we have to do to stay relevant. They convinced me to do the bloody film, they convinced me of the label, and now all that’s left is an album. And that's Pandora's box.”

“You just tell them no as you always have. Simple,” Annie said. Then, she looked between the two of us. “Or you take Julia.”

“What?” I scoffed.

“Well, if he’s worried about being the center of attention, you could completely distract them, couldn’t you?”

Neither John or I spoke.

“Oh. I forgot,” Annie replied drolly. “You’re just friends. ‘Scuse me.” She got up from the table and went to get started on laundry.

John took a long drag on his cigarette. “Well. She’s in fine form isn’t she?”

My mouth was hot. I waited a moment longer, hoping he would ask me to join him. But that’s not what this relationship was. Just friends in the daylight, just lovers in the night. No in between, not since Annie came back. I was getting tired of this light switch flipping off and on. “You’ll be alright tonight?”

John smiled at me. “You worried about me?”

“Hasn’t that been painfully obvious for a while now?”

John eyed me through the smoke of his cigarette. “Aren’t you sweet?”

I blushed.

John stamped out his ciagarette, got up out of his chair, and poured the rest of his coffee into the sink. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. And besides –” He crossed to the kitchen door and gave me one last look. “I’ve got a trump card over Jimmy if I need to use it.”

“You wouldn’t say anything.” It was a fact. He wouldn’t.

John shrugged. “No. But if anyone’s giving me any guff, I can just imagine you with your knickers ‘round your ankles and that’ll be quite a pleasant distraction.”

My jaw dropped but I had no time to respond before John slipped out of the kitchen to the studio.

We’d been about this affair a little over a month now. And it was honestly getting a bit stale. The flirtatious comments and stolen kisses held less excitement. I was starting to wonder if and when things would change between us, hopefully for the more permanent. However, there wasn’t a lot of time to consider any changes between us when things were so busy. I was preparing the girls for back to school the first week of September and John was attending to business matters more frequently. He was also more “inspired” than he had been in a while. That’s the word he used: inspired. Inspiration often struck at night. Sometimes, he’d let me join him in the studio while he tinkered around. Other times, I’d leave him alone and awaken to him slipping into bed with me. Always in my bed, never in the master.

That night, I hadn’t settled since John had left even though the girls were in good spirits over a dinner of macaroni cheese and a jaunt into town for a sweet treat. I was distracted by thoughts of John at Plumpton. Was anyone asking after me? After everything at Montreux and the way I’d left things with Pat, certainly she’d be inquiring. But men weren’t quite like that. They asked after wives and children, not lovers. Or nannies.

Despite him saying not to wait up for him, I waited with a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover in my lap going unread.

Every sound of the creaking house had me going to the door to listen and see if it was his keys or his car.

Hour after hour passed. I felt for sure he would call if he were to stay over. Or maybe he wouldn’t to avoid suspicion.

But then I heard it. The jangling, the cursing, the wrong key in the lock.

I opened the door, revealing John. He fumbled forward and grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. His ring of keys rattled against the door. “Julia! You’re up.”

John’s eyes were wobbly. “Don’t tell me you drove drunk,” I said.

“Not drunk, just a little –” He paused, looking down and swallowing back the slurring cadence of his voice. “Tipsy. Only a little.”

“John…you could have gotten yourself killed.”

John took a step forward and stumbled right into my arms, clinging to my shoulders. “Oh, come now, Julia. It’s just a half hour drive.” He kissed me. I tasted fermented grapes on his lips. “Mm. I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t help but swoon “It’s only been a few hours.”

“A few is too many hours. Especially when everyone was asking about you.”

Oh, how my heart soared to not be too far from his mind. “Well, I missed you too.”

John smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “Pat wanted to know why you haven’t called.” His breath was hot and stale smelling.

I pulled back. “Your breath is –”

 “Peter wanted to know why you hadn’t come along.”

I dodged his mouth again. “John…”

“And Jimmy asked as innocently as he could how you were doing.”

I laughed. “Cheeky bastard.”

“And I realized I had no idea how to answer that question because I haven’t asked you that in some time.”

I stopped, furrowing my brow in bewilderment. John took advantage of my pause and softly kissed me.

“How are you, Julia?”

“Ehm. Fine.”

John pouted out his lower lip. “Just fine?”

“Is that not a good enough answer?”

John raked his hand through my hair, scratching my scalp. “I want you to be more than fine.”

I leaned my head into his hand. In the night, with him, when nothing was off-limits, I felt more than fine. My questions were starting to outpace my enjoyment.

John went in for another kiss.

“Easy,” I giggled, catching his kiss on my cheek. “I wish you would have stayed the night there than risk driving in this state, John.”

“Even if you had to sleep alone?”

“Even if I had to sleep alone. Yes. Now, let’s get this coat off, hm?”

John wriggled his arms, the sleeves sloughing down his arms. “Goddammit.” He started spinning around, trying to get them off.

“Hold still, I’ll get it,” I giggled.

I followed him around in a circle like he was a toddler until I managed to snag the collar and yank the coat off. “Ough, thank you. Thought I was trapped. Like one of those, uh…” He pointed his fingers together in front of him. “Those finger traps, you know?”

“Goodness, how much have you had? Or what have you had?”

John put his hands on my shoulders, intense concentration folding his brow.

“What is it?”

He took a breath as if to say something important. “I’m very hungry.”

I patted his stomach. “Poor thing. Didn’t you all have anything to eat there?”

“No, Jimmy never has anything. I’m not sure he even has any food in the house let alone for guests.”

“So that’s why you’re so tipsy.”

John rolled his eyes in thought. “Mmmwell, I did have a couple of mints from Pat’s purse.” 

I laughed. “Alright. I’ll make you something. Let’s get your shoes off first.”

John tripped past me to the hall bench, landing with a thud on his backside. “Oof.”

I finagled his keys out of the lock and shut the door quietly. The girls had been asleep for several hours and I didn’t want them waking up and asking questions.

“I’ve only had some wine and grass, by the way,” John sighed, leaning forward to undo the laces on his loafers.

“Really? That’s it? I’d hate to see what literally anything else does to you.”

“Out of practice.”

I scoffed at the idea of drugs and alcohol being considered a practice. “Here, let me help.” I knelt to the ground.

“I can undo my shoes, Julia.”

“You can, but you’re being awfully slow about it.” I waved his hands away. “Let me.”

I liked to make myself useful to him in any small way. It was the best way I knew how to show my affection and perhaps lead him to be unable to picture a life without me. I was a woman so perfect, I’d get on my knees just to take off his shoes.

Clearly, I was getting desperate.

“So tell me. How was it?”

John didn’t reply. His breath was heavy, thick with drink. I could feel his eyes watching me. Waiting for something.

I tapped his calf. “Off.”

He pulled his foot out of the shoe and twiddled his toes in the sock.

“Was it what you thought it was?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“Were they trying to get you to start back on the album?”

“Oh, yes, yes. Yes, they were.”

I undid his other shoe and started to pull at it.

“I think I want to.”

I froze. Certainly I must have misheard him. But when our eyes met, I knew I hadn’t.

“I think I’m ready to get back at it.”

I opened my mouth to respond. All that came out was a sound of hesitation.

“It all sounds rather exciting again. I haven't felt that in a while. But knowing you’re here with the girls, I didn't feel quite as worried. And I’m feeling more –”

“Inspired, yes.”

John smiled in such a way that broke my heart. Like a young boy asking his mother if she was proud of him. He wanted my approval.

If I had been more to him, I might have felt compelled to tell him what I really thought. That the girls weren’t ready. That I wasn’t ready.

But I was only the nanny. What he said was gospel. 

“What do you think?”

I swallowed back my concerns and placed my hands on his thighs, getting up on my knees. “It’s wonderful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m thrilled for you. I’m sure everyone is…just so thrilled.”

John wrapped my face in his hands and kissed me. “You’re my angel. I would never have felt ready without you.”

“Nonsense.”

“No, really, Julia. Really, really. I…” John was losing cogency by the moment, brain saddled with drink. “I never thought I’d be ready again, but...I just think it’s time. I really do.” The more he spoke, the more assured he was.

“When will you leave?” The word leave stuck in my throat.

“I’ll stick around for the girl’s first day of school and then be off.”

That was barely a week away. “How long?”

“Well, as long as we need. Probably the month. But it’s a short drive. I can visit.”

A month. When the girls were just starting school, Kiera her very first year.

And we…

I had no right to “we”. That was clear now.

I took his hand and squeezed it. “You said you’re hungry. I’ll make you something. What do you want?”

“I’ll eat anything. I’m ravenous.”

I got to my feet, but John did not let go of me. He pulled me down into his lap and buried his face in my neck.

“I’ll have you if you like,” he murmured.

My stomach turned. There was nothing I wanted less at that moment than for him to whisper lewd things in my ear. I squirmed in his arms. “I’m on the rag, John.”

“Mmwhat’s that matter?”

“I’m tired.”

“You won’t have to do anything.”

“I’ve got cramps.”

“It’ll help.”

I finally made it out of his arms and started down toward the kitchen. “Come on and be quiet about it.”

John laid off once we made it into the kitchen and he remembered his empty stomach. He was indeed ravenous, scarfing down a sandwich and babbling on about various events of the night with no regard to chronology or clarity. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t listening. Everything was about to change even more than it already had. And that was all I could focus on.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep made even worse by John’s liquor laden snoring, with the girls gathered around the breakfast table and Annie listening as she cleaned, John delivered the news.

“It will only be a few weeks. And I’ll come home as often as I can. And Julia and Annie will be here, of course.”

The girls all looked to me. Their eyes pleaded with me to say something, anything that would validate the way their stomachs had just dropped.

I have regrets in life. For a person to say they haven’t got them is a lie. And sitting at that table with a smile plastered on my face instead of speaking to their fear is one of many regrets I have.

“How does that sound?” John finished with an eager smile.

Tamara spoke, holding her head high, “Good.” She would lead in her appeasing, eldest child way.

“We’ll have a lot of fun,” I said and reached for Jacinda’s hand that was clenching her fork. She looked at me warily. I squeezed harder. “And we’ll talk to your father every day on the phone.”

“Yes, absolutely,” John added. “We’ll have lots of chats and you can tell me everything.”

The girls were silent. They’d been here before. Old hat. Better at this than me.

“And there’s plenty of time before I leave to spend time together. We can do whatever you’d like. Whatever at all.”

“Anything?” Kiera asked. She did not have the skill of conceptualizing the true feeling of John's absence. She would be the hardest to care for.

“Sky is the limit,” John replied. “We’ll start today. Tell me, what would you like to do?”

I couldn’t sit there any longer with my irritated grin. I excused myself from the conversation, saying I needed to use the bathroom. But the moment I left the kitchen, tears filled my eyes.

He couldn’t leave. He shouldn’t. Not when things were so unsure.  

I stumbled to sit at the bottom of the stairs and tried to steady my breathing. A tear rolled down my cheek. I smacked at it like it was a fly. One tear became two, became a deluge. I buried my face in my lap to muffle any sound of my sobs.

Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Familiar, yet nowadays so rare. Annie.

She guided me into her arms and held me against her bosom. I wrapped myself around her as if she was my very own mother as she stroked my hair.

“Oh, poor heart…” she murmured. “He’ll be back for you. I promise you that.”

I lifted my head from her lap, finding her foggy gray eyes. Annie cupped my cheek in her hand.

The next thing she said, I’ll never forget.

“But you have to be careful, Julia. This is his life. This will always be his life. The coming and the going. Do you think you can handle that?”

My head knew the answer was “no”. However, my heart was not willing to let him go. Not when we had just begun.

“I can. I can.”

Annie's brow pinched together only momentarily, but enough to let me know she didn't believe me. But instead of carrying on another moment, she kissed my forehead. “Of course, you can.”

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side, @thepinklovewitch, @babyl222, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @matty-heally, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54 (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

[logosbot-tm-fics]

NEW CHAPTER FOR FORMALDEHYDE BC I DECIDED TO NOT LISTEN TO THE POLL

Enjoy!

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

[Start] [<Previous] [Next>]

Chapter 8: Am I Pretty Now?

(More beneath the cut)

Mumbo felt rather pleased with himself. He had managed to get his hands on an Ariana Griande concert ticket. It hadn’t been his priority at all but he saw that the tickets had been released so he decided to buy one. He smiled to himself when he noticed that the tickets were sold for a rather affordable price as well, which meant that it didn’t feel like a waste of money. Instead it felt like a treat. Considering the fact that everything felt so confusing and messy lately, he felt like he really needed to give himself something.

The concert was, as always, great. Though it always felt weird that she had gone from a small artist to one of the most popular artists, if not the most popular. A part of him still thought of her as a small, unknown artist, even if he knew that wasn't the truth. It didn't really matter, her music was still great, and he still enjoyed the things she did.

But even if the show was great, Mumbo couldn't help but notice one thing. Ariana was moving her hands weirdly.

Or more accurately, she seemed to be struggling to move her hands normally. She struggled to use them, meaning that she either held the mic or not at all. Sure, she had an in-ear, but sometimes she used regular microphones. Not that Mumbo really knew why. It was odd to see her struggle, it looked as if she was hurt. As if she had someone hurt her hands.

Mumbo wasn’t the only one who noticed. He heard someone behind him whisper about it.

"Is she okay?" They said, tone worried. "She seems unable to use her hands."

"I don't know." Another person responded. "Her hands look hurt."

Mumbo had noticed that as well, they looked bruised, damaged. Wasn't it weird that both Grian and Ariana had hurt their hands? Rather odd coincidence. He shrugged it off, stuff like that happened.

He hoped Ariana was okay.

Later when Mumbo was scrolling through social media he saw a few posts writing about her damaged hands. Posts pointed out how she pulled her sleeves over knuckles in selfies she posted, or avoided putting photos of her hands in them.

Some posts had photos from the concert, with red circles around her hands. The comments were filled with concerned fans, or people saying that it probably wasn't a big deal.

Mumbo hoped she was okay.

~

Ariana is on TV, it's a talk show again. Her brown hair is slightly wavy, and she has a pink hair clip in it. She has rather soft makeup this time, just enough pink eyeshadow to bring out her dark brown eyes.

She seems to have a rather nice time, even if something seems to be making her anxious. She's fidgeting with her sleeve, smiling as she answers questions. Despite the anxiety she seems to be feeling, she actually looks relaxed.

The talkshow host, a woman with long blonde hair, looks kind and genuine. Her smile is so different from other people who have interviewed Ariana.

"I'm so sorry, and I hope you don’t mind me asking," The talk show host says, looking at the cards in her hand. They seem to be there mostly for support. She has asked a bunch of questions and has rarely looked at the cards. It seems as if she's actually interested in what Ariana is saying. "But a lot of people, myself included, have noticed that your hands seem to have been hurt somehow, what happened? You can pass on this question if you want." She offers kindly.

"No, it's okay, I've been getting quite a lot of questions myself." Ariana replied, smiling. "Well, I hurt them, to put it simply. "

"Pardon my curiosity, but how? Was it a dance accident or?" The interviewer asked.

 

Ariana laughed slightly, shaking her head. “I mean, a dance accident would make sense, but you don't really hurt yourself like that when dancing." She explained, resting her hands in her lap. "I also wish I could say it was for a good reason, but, this is a bit silly, I just hurt them whilst boxing."

"You box?" The host said, looking a bit surprised.

"Yeah, I do." Ariana smiled. "It's not something a lot of people know. It's my preferred form of working out.

“I see," The host said, her smile matching Ariana's. "But are your hands okay?”

 

“Ah, they’re better, I'll say that. It’s just a case of boxer’s knuckles. I’ve been to the doctor and I've gotten it treated, I'm just going to struggle to hold a microphone for a while.” Ariana shrugged it off casually.

“Oh, I see. I hope they get better.” The talkshow host said earnestly.

“Thank you.” Ariana smiled, and with that the conversation was over.

The interviewer then turned to the audience, to move on from the topic.“Now, let me introduce the world famous popstar and drag queen, Scottsune Miku!" She announced, gesturing towards a portion of the stage.

Scottsune Miku came out on stage. She greeted the host and Ariana with a genuine smile, before sitting down next to Ariana.

"Scottsune it's a pleasure to-"

Mumbo turned off the TV. Grian would be over soon.

~

To Mumbo, making tea was almost therapeutic. It helped him calm down, focus on the amount of tea leaves, how hot the water needed to be, and how long it needed to brew.

He made tea if he felt stressed, angry, sad, frustrated, or any negative emotion. If he felt bad, then there would be a pot filled with tea almost immediately.

This, however, was not one of those days.

This was one of those rare days when things seemed strangely fine. Grian was laying on Mumbo's couch, just watching videos on his phone, whilst Mumbo was in the kitchen making some tea for them.

Sure, there were awkward silences and a weird tension in the air even during the okay days, but they had become a lot more bearable. A lot nicer than the others.

It almost made Mumbo forget about the bad days.

Mumbo filled a plate with biscuits, and went out into the living room. He placed the tea, milk, honey, and biscuits on the table, before sitting down next to Grian on the couch.

As soon as Mumbo picked up his book to read, Grian put his head in Mumbo's lap. He often did that.

However, it took Mumbo a while to realise that he was playing with Grian's hair. He had just started doing it, and by god, was Grian's hair soft. It was also rather long. Not at all as well trimmed as it used to be. It used to reach just above his jaw, curling in such a way that it looked shorter…but now it was down by the nape of his neck.

It looked good.

Grian seemed very content with the fact that Mumbo was playing with his hair. His eyes were closed, and his hand rested on top of his phone that was laying on his chest. He seemed at peace. Calm. Relaxed, for once.

"Mumbo?" Grian asked, his eyes still closed.

"Mm?" Mumbo responded, trying to focus on the words in his book instead of how soft Grian's hair was. He was failing miserably.

"I feel like going out again." Grian says.

Mumbo nearly drops his book onto Grian's head in response. "What?"

He hadn't expected Grian to say that. It’s only been three weeks since the whole incident, and sure Grian's hands have healed, but…if Mumbo was honest, he didn't really feel all that comfortable going out. He didn't want that to happen again.

"I wanna go out again." Grian says, as if Mumbo hadn’t heard him. "I think it would be fun."

"You're sure?" Mumbo asks. "What if-"

"Mumbo, it will be fine." Grian cut him off, looking up at Mumbo. "I had fun, despite what happened. Besides, I don't want that to stop me from having fun and doing things I like." He sounded rather determined, and that convinced Mumbo.

The two of them decided to go out the next day, since that was a Friday and neither would be at work on the Saturday.

Still, Mumbo couldn't help but feel as if something would go wrong.

~

This time, they go without Iskall. Somehow it feels like both of them want to go alone, for it to be just the two of them. Neither says it and neither suggests bringing Iskall. They just…understand.

In the line to the club, Grian looks giddy, almost like a child, excitedly bouncing in place. Mumbo smiles fondly. Maybe it was a good idea to go out, despite what happened last time. If he'd known that Grian would be this happy, he wouldn't have hesitated at all, and would have agreed immediately.

Surprisingly, the queue moves quickly, and they're inside sooner than expected. Grian grabs Mumbo's hand as soon as they step inside, dragging him out on the dance floor. Mumbo doesn't even get a chance to protest. Not that he minds.

Mumbo can't dance, not in the slightest. He moves awkwardly, or almost not at all. It doesn’t seem to matter. Grian just seems happy that Mumbo is dancing with him, even if he's far from graceful.

Unlike last time, Mumbo doesn't sit down to take a break, instead he just follows Grian's movements. The way Grian smiled when he realised Mumbo was still dancing with him successfully calmed down most worries Mumbo had.

He doesn't know how, but at some point he gets a drink and Grian gets one too. It takes a while for him to realise, but Grian is the one paying for his drinks.

"Grian-" Mumbo says, holding a gin and tonic in his hand. It must be his third one, and they haven't been out that long. "You know you don't have to pay for my drinks, right?"

Grian gestured vaguely, trying to brush off Mumbo's comment. "Don't worry about it," He slurred, his alcohol tolerance lower than Mumbo's. Not surprising, he was shorter after all. "I want to, besides I've got more than enough money."

Mumbo wondered what he meant by that, surely being an accountant couldn't pay that well. Though, maybe he worked for a good company?

"You're sure? I can pay for myself, if you-"

Grian cut him off, placing his hand on top of Mumbo's. The look he gave him was strangely intense and rather determined. "Mumbo. I seriously want to, and I have a fair amount of money that I don't really have use for. Let me pay for you."

"Oh-" Mumbo was a bit unsure of what to say, but he guessed that maybe he shouldn't question it. Grian seemed absolutely certain. "I-...thank you."

"My pleasure." Grian said, smiling a bit. He pulled away his hand and tilted his drink slightly at Mumbo. Mumbo silently wished Grian had let his hand stay.

Sometime after that brief conversation, Grian drags Mumbo back out onto the dance floor. As the time has passed, more people have entered the club, and they end up being very close to each other. Mumbo feels a warmth pool in his stomach at the proximity.

Despite them being at a club filled with people, it feels weirdly intimate.

Mumbo feels slightly dizzy, but in a good way. Almost as if he's floating. He has definitely drunk more than he thought. A lot more…and, what's the time? He hasn't checked his watch in a while.

Maybe he should, it might be a good idea-

His thoughts get cut off by Grian suddenly kissing him on the cheek. Mumbo gives him what he assumes is a questioning look, and Grian just shrugs in response.

"Felt like it." He said, casually, as if he always just randomly gives Mumbo kisses. Somehow, it actually feels fairly normal.

They still don't move off the dance floor. In reality, it would probably be next to impossible, there's far too many people around them. Neither really seems to want to sit down, and continue to dance…if you can call it that, it's more moving to the best of their ability on the crowded dance floor.

“Mumbo?” Grian whispered, the two so close together, that his voice could somehow be heard over the music and the people around them.

“Hmm?” Mumbo hummed, looking at Grian, who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Do you…” Grian began, stopping himself for a second, tilting his head to the side. The movement was a bit awkward, clumsy almost. “...Do you think I’m pretty?” He asked, smiling in a strangely shy way. He played with a lock of hair. If Mumbo was more sober he probably would have wondered why Grian looked like that.

Mumbo had difficulty processing the question, the alcohol making his brain work slower, worse than usual. “W..what?”He said in response, vaguely aware of the fact that he was standing up.

Grian leaned forward, so he could whisper into Mumbo’s ear. “Do you think I’m pretty?” He asked again, his lips centimetres away from Mumbo’s ear. Mumbo felt his breath on his neck.

When Mumbo finally managed to process the question he felt a smile break out on his face. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to stop it.

He nodded in response. “Yes.” He said. “Yes, you’re very pretty.” He gently tucked a hair strand behind Grian’s ear, just so he could see him more clearly.

Grian looked surprised, his eyes wide, a faint blush on his face. Was it there because of the alcohol or-

“Really?” Grian breathed. “Am I prettier than Ariana?”

Mumbo felt his head spin, half wondering why Grian asked that. He barely realised that it was a rather strange question to ask. “Yes, always.” Mumbo replied, earnestly. “You’re the prettiest. Always the prettiest.” His words slurred together.

Grian seemed very pleased with that, and put his head against Mumbo’s chest. “The prettiest…” He whispered, a smile on his lips.

They lose track of time, and before they know it, it has to be after 2am. They have sat down at some point, Grian leaning against Mumbo. Mumbo thinks that some people have to think that they're a couple. He doesn't mind that. He wonders if Grian minds that, but realises that he'd have to ask if he wants to know.

They should probably leave. It's late and they should probably get home.

Mumbo asks if Grian wants to come to his place, and Grian nods silently, his arms tightly around Mumbo's body

They take a cab together, and start to giggle and laugh and neither knows why they're laughing. Grian holds Mumbo's hand tightly, as if he won't ever let go.

Mumbo doesn't want him to.

~

Mumbo and Grian half walked, half stumbled into Mumbo's apartment. Almost falling onto the floor in the hallway. The two of them were laughing drunkenly as they went inside, the type of laughter that bubbles in your stomach and is impossible to stop. The type that makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. They clung onto each other for support, which didn't exactly work. Neither was particularly stable.

Mumbo somehow managed to sit down on the stool in the hall and started to take off his shoes. He struggled but eventually got them off.

Grian laughed even harder when he saw how Mumbo almost failed at the simple action. Mumbo laughed as well, throwing his shoes at Grian. The shoes missed Grian completely, since Mumbo's already terrible aim seemed to have somehow gotten even worse, and Grian fell down on the floor, still laughing.

Grian clumsily pulled off his own shoes. He sat on the floor for a short while until Mumbo tried to help him stand up. Neither could seem to stop laughing, the happiness felt sticky and sweet, and it held them firmly in its grasp. Not that either could really complain. When was the last time they properly laughed together?

Grian somehow managed to stand up properly, smiling at Mumbo. Mumbo smiled back, and ended up looking directly into Grian's eyes. The laughing stopped, though not in a bad way. The air felt electric, and neither looked away.

Mumbo had known for a long while that Grian's eyes were blue, but oh. Oh, how they were beautiful. They were like an ocean, a gorgeous mix of blues. Earlier Mumbo would've assumed that they were just light blue, but now he wondered how he had ever missed the specks of midnight blue in them.

Grian breathed, his eyes stuck on Mumbo. Mumbo's lips felt dry. Grian licked his lips, as if they were dry. Mumbo noticed that Grian's chest was rising and falling slowly.

Grian leaned clumsily against Mumbo saying nothing. Grian then tilted his head to the side, a strange sort of curiosity and wonder in his eyes.

Mumbo mirrored his movements, not breaking eye contact. He couldn't. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to. He kinda…

Mumbo was unsure of who made the first move, who put their hand on the other's back, who breathed in before taking the plunge. Maybe they did it at the same time. Because suddenly, his body was once again pressed against Grian's, but this time they weren't dancing.

No, this time his lips were pressed against Grian's, as he felt Grian kiss him with a newfound hunger. As if he was starving, as if he couldn't keep himself back.

Mumbo slowly slid his hand up Grian's shirt, tracing his spine with his fingertips. He felt Grian gasp against his mouth, felt him tense up for a second before relaxing into Mumbo's touch.

A part of Mumbo knew he shouldn't be doing this– he knew he wouldn't be doing this if they weren’t so drunk. But they were. And they were too far gone to stop.

As if they would've wanted to stop.

Part of Mumbo was screaming at him, knowing that their friendship was too fragile for this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when Grian was holding on to him, refusing to let go.

He felt Grian's hands in his hair, and the last thing he could properly remember was Grian pulling them towards Mumbo's bedroom

[clarktooncrossing]

HELLO THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK!

Happy National Cartoonists Day, everyone! What, you didn't think my current computer crisis would stop me from celebrating the Holiday, did ya? Actually, it almost did. Y'see, despite this piece being drawn by hand, my computer's scanner wouldn't save the file onto my craptop. My computer's going through a processing error, meaning it's set to stop working any day now. Fortunately this hunk'a junk managed to work just long enough for me to upload the newest Sketch BOOM! Yes my friends, the Sketch BOOM is back! I figured if I could only post one thing for NCD it might as well be something covered head to toe with cartoons. Some pretty well drawn cartoons too, if you pardon me tootin' my own horn. It just feels so good to have drawn something, have it come out looking as good as it does, and to be able to upload it here on tumblr for you all to see. For the record though, screw tumblr's stupid@$$ upload size limit, I freak'n hate websites that do that! It makes me as mad as a blood-cursed Croczilla fighting a sentient mobile home, but we'll get to that in a bit. For now though, let's see what silly sketches managed to make their way onto the page, starting from the top left corner and making our way down.

Don't forget to be on the lookout for the Snow Conies, the tiny sentient species of snow cones that have invaded almost every part of the page! Can you spot all 8?

[1] DID SOMEONE SAY PIZZA? You wanna know what the downside is of drawing at the bottom of the page and working your way up is? You have tiny pockets of blank space that you're unsure what to do with. Such was the case was this corner, having been left blank after drawing #2. For a while I thought of filling the void with a cosmically charged Snow Conie in the same vein at Rosie, but the Cosmic Cutie was already part of the BOOM due to Discord shenanigans. Instead I opted for a Clarktoon that sadly hasn't been drawn in a while, that being the ever-goofy Pizza Monster. No doubt he was lured here by the scent of all the pretzel pizzas I've been eating lately. While he was here I decided to experiment with his expressions, adding more cheek to his smile. Honestly I think he looked better without them. Still, I'm happy to see him here as I hope all of you are. Now if only he'd stop hogging all the grub!

[2] EYE OF THE THERIAN Rosie isn't the only character here due to Discord shenanigans. At the beginning of every month my friend @Foxhatart opens herself up to sketch suggestions on her Kofi page. For the record, those of you wanting to help out another artist keep food in their bellies can click here. With a few of these Kofi slots still left open, Fox came to her friends asking if they had any ideas for pics involving her characters. Not knowing a ton about her characters, I joked that she ott'a draw her half-lemur girl Cath bench press a bus, her freakish strength having become a reoccurring gag via game nights. Funny as the idea was, I didn't expect Fox to actually do it. You can imagine my surprise when this popped up in my inbox a few days later. Consider this doodle a long overdue 'thank you'. Here we see the crazy Cath lifting weights with, of all peeps, Bumper! No doubt the little marshmallow's here for moral support since he can't actually build up any muscle mass. Ghost problems, am I right? Hope you enjoy this silly little sketch, Fox. Next time I'll have Cath bench-pressing your mortal nemesis; a train.

[3] TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH Despite what I said about Pizza Monster, he actually wasn't the last sketch to be included. No, that honor goes to the metal mercenary, the bodacious bot bounty hunter, the anarchistic anti-hero herself; Candy Banger! Much like the aforementioned monster I figured it had been too long since I drew Candy or really any of the robotic cast of 3K. Atop of that, Candy represented a good chance for me to use the stockpile of poses I've saved up from a thumb drive. Using one from a tumblr site called @posereference turned out to be surprisingly easier than anticipated, the only real flaw in the end being how I colored her. This is one of many coloring errors I made on this piece, Candy's hair looking more bluish purple than I had intended. Still, considering I drew her at all, I doubt Candy's complaining. Here's hoping I can draw more of her in the future, otherwise I might be riddled with bullet holes like that wall behind her. 

[4] AN AVERAGE DAY AT WHIMSYLAND And thus we've arrived to the first sketch of this compilation given to me by a friend, this one coming from @jackieariane. She and I both suffered during the Chapek administration of Disney, Jart regaling me with tales of when she dealt with rude customers at Animal Kingdom. It reminded me of when my friends AnimatedTigerGirl and RigbyH00ves worked at the Floridan Park too, all three of my companions having a surprisingly miserable experience. All these stories started melting together in my brain until I asked the question; what would happen if Brooklyn Nine Nine was set at Disneyland? Thus Whimsyland was born, albeit originally out of spite towards Chapek. I already detailed all this back in the DUDELZ from the Dumpster I posted earlier this year, but I failed to mention the human protagonist of this story, Wendy. Having been to Whimsyland once in her life at a young age, the young Vietnamese gal with OCD was immediately smitten by the place, vowing she'd someday work there. Spending the rest of her life researching the park and watching Matt Whimsy documentaries on uView, you can imagine Wendy's disappointment when she returned to the Perkiest Place on the Planet to find nothing was as perky. Whimsyland had lost its whimsy. It's here where she met Freddy Fox, the cartoon mascot of the company living in exile over how the house Matt built is being run today. In other words, what I'd imagine Mickey would be doing if he were real. Together these two kindred spirits are set to bring magic back to this wonderland! Overall I'm pleased with how the sketch turned out, though Wendy's face reminds me of my character Sue the Game Genie more than I'd prefer. Also, Fred Fox is way bigger than intended, no doubt I'll be changing that for future depictions of these two. For now though, this drawing has just enough Whimsy for my liking. 

[5] CROCZILLA: BLOOD CURSE More Discord Shenanigans! This time it's the result of a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that @burningthrucelluloid somehow roped me into yet again. Instead of robots and dragons set in a medieval fantasy however, this time it's elves and crocodiles in an approximation of the American south. One ruled by Jerimiah Strahd, a ruthless blood-sucking bastard that Alec based off Leonardo DiCaprio's character from Django Unchained. If that wasn't a sign of how crazy this campaign has become, here's an actual moment from the game. The heroic but hesitant human Jason (YoungSamurai18), the loud-mouthed scaredy cat Toby (Mr-Herp-Derp), and the silent but deadly Ed (void-android), and the equally hungry and adventurous Crocie (me, of course) were hunting for a witch named Bubba Lysiga when all of a sudden the witch brought her mobile home to life in order to attack our heroes. Worse still, she put Ed under mind control to attack his comrades. Croc got the worst of it, his HP dropping to 0 due to him falling from the house and getting stomped on by its gigantic set of wooden chicken legs. Did I mention this campaign gets strange? Well it got even crazier when a dark, shadowy entity housed in Croc's body suddenly gave him a recharge, the reptile taking the chance to mix a Heat and Growth potion he obtained earlier to become CROCZILLA! It was a moment Alec was hoping would happen in game and I didn't intend on disappointing. Same goes for this sketch, it mostly going just as envisioned in my head. The pissed off look on my green friend's face, the damage done to the rusty trailer that is the witch's house, the tiny silhouettes of Croc's teammates in said home, the heavy fog, the Earth-shattering roar in the background, it all came out great. Save for one detail. You'll notice that Croc's eyes are black with red irises in this pic. That detail's due to Croc having blood curse abilities, hence the dark entity sharing rental space in his body. As such, you'd think Croc's fire breath would be just as vibrantly red, but sadly that idea didn't occur to me until after I made the fire blue as well as the shine off every surface. Spam it! Still, coloring hiccup aside, I'm mighty proud of this pic! Hopefully so are the rest of the Barovian Bozos that make up my team. 

[6] WONDER ZIGGY, CINEPHILE FROM THE PLANET GARBONZA EVEN MORE DISCORD SHENANIGANS! Cut to a few months back and I was restructuring my Discord server, cutting down the multiple move threads it had before merging them all into one. Being the story-driven bozo I am, I quickly wrote a backstory for this thread involving an alien named Ziggy falling in love with the Earth B-Movies he was picking up on his deep space probe. So much so that he came down to our planet only to discover there were even MORE types of movies for him to enjoy! It overwhelmed him so much that he blacked out, awakening the next day having purchased a since abandoned drive-in theater on the outskirts of Clarksburg. Faced with this new impulse purchase, Ziggy followed the oldest piece of wisdom known to man or alien; Screw it. After a refurb Ziggy reopened the drive-in, screening B Movies and cinematic shlock to an appreciative public. And if you can believe it, I typed all of that out after thinking about it for five minutes. My brain is weird like that. All that said, it'd take a couple of RP sessions before I got his personality down, that being an MST3K character if the show were written by Joe-Bob Briggs. In other words, a surprisingly well educated weirdo with a deep love of Hollywood history. It'd take me a while longer before finally sketching him, basing him off the titular villain from Robot Monster, an appropriate design for someone who loves old, cheesy movies. All he was missing was a pink Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat. If you think he's strange, you should meet his wife Wanda, though let's save that for a future BOOM...

[7] LOOKIN' SPAM GOOD! What better way to show my friends I care than drawing them in ridiculous outfits? This sketch, the first to be included in this BOOM, is a merging of two repurposed ideas I had for other pictures. The first would've involved the Swedish menace Finjix with a fish bowl on his head much to the confusion of Alec, the recipient of a kawaii make over. I can't remember where the fishbowl idea spawned from but Sir Alec the Adorable came from him scoffing at the idea that I could make anything cute, himself included. Just you wait Alec, I'll get you someday! For now though I swapped out making him uber-adorable in favor of dressing him up like the Wasp from Earth's Mightiest Heroes, the awesome animated show he finally binge-watched on my behalf. Granted I could've drawn him as Maria Hill, the character on the show he deemed the sexiest, but it wouldn't have been as funny. After all, all Maria's outfit is a blue jumpsuit. Far less interesting than Jart's leather jacket, an image that popped into my noggin following her telling me she's learning to ride a bike. That and me desperately clinging onto the back as she gave me a ride, but that would've been harder to draw. Instead I went for the jacket, a fashion statement that would be stupid in real life since she lives in the infamously hot country of Vietnam. Yet even in the face of logic, Jart not only humored me but encouraged me to include this in the final sketch. Thank goodness she did cuz I love how it turned out, minus the green stripes that were accidentally colored black like the rest. DRATS! Not only that but she informed me that she was no longer using her fursona, instead opting to draw herself as a human from now on. DOUBLE DRATS! Ah well, I have more ideas involving 'Trang the Tyrant' as I've nicknamed her, so chances are I'll get the chance to correct both mistakes in the future. It might also give me another chance to draw myself as Super Giraffe, which was what I originally intended to do with my own fursona. Sadly the costume still needs work so instead I opted for my classic Pagonian Wizard robes. Even in the face of all these snafus, I think we all look spam good!

[8] ROSIE STARDUST, SPACE WIZARD Turns out I'm always right even when I'm spewing nonsense. Don't believe me? Plenty of peeps have made that mistake before. Take my friend Alec for example. In the midst of him running the current Strahd campaign I mentioned earlier, I jokingly tossed out the idea of Rosie transporting our heroes out of Barovia and into another universe. A cute 'What If' scenario the Dungeon Master wasted no time in shooting down. Mistaking my silly suggestion as a legit one, Alec explained how unfair it'd be for a god to play a game with a bunch of mortal meatbags. Let the record show that I never declared the sentient Einstein-Rosen Bridge to be a deity. Some alien cultures have mistaken her from one, but Rosie herself would be the first to tell you she's no holy being. Not that any of that mattered. Alec held firm to his statement, Rosie was denied access to any dungeons. For about six seconds before my buddy realized how a depowered Rosie would make a wonderful wizard for a Spelljammers campaign. Fueling this fire was his recent watching of The Owl House, imagining Rosie rocking wizard robes similar to those worn by The Good Witch Azura. Before I could say, "NOW EAT THIS SUCKA," he was leading the charge on my server of peeps demanding I draw Rosie as a space wizard. At first I was floored at the audacity! You shoot down an idea that wasn't meant to be taken seriously only for you to turn around and do so anyway? MAKE UP YOUR SPAM MIND! Then I followed Alec's example and got over it, the idea of Rosie in wizards robes too tempting a sketch not to capitalize on. In the end the only aspect of Azura that made it into the final product was the hat, minus the cute lil' crown. Everything else took cues from the fashion of @cherrysdesigns along with a style @girlofhearts101 turned me towards called whimsigoth. All of which resulting in an costume that gave Alec 'David Bowie Ziggy Stardust vibes'. It's thanks to that comment that Rosie now has a last name. Everyone, say hello to Rosie Stardust, universal explorer and space wizard!

[9] DIREKTOR AND 3D1T0-R Is there a Hollywood equivalent in the Star Wars universe? Some sort of glamorous planet where overpaid alien celebrities are shamelessly rebooting beloved classics for a profit? All while amazing writers are getting screwed out of the earnings they deserve? This was what I asked Alec during his binge watching of The Clone Wars. Surprising me once more, the Masked Maniac revealed that he had asked SIM-N the same question before, the two creating a character called The Direktor for their Monova comics. Her whole gimmick was producing hypnotic propaganda for the tyrannical Twin Emperors, a cool concept that never went anywhere due to the robotroll cutting From Destiny's Ashes short. Being the character man that I am, I decided The Direktor couldn't go to waste. Especially when she'd make such a good villain in the world of 3K and a good addition to this BOOM. After asking SIM-N for the character's original reference sheet I set out to give her a Clarktoon makeover while watching cutscenes of The Second Sister from Jedi: Fallen Order. No doubt Elizabeth Grullon's intimidating vocal performance effected my outcome, the alien movie maker now sporting a streamlined outfit along with a smugly sinister smile on her face. As apposed to her boss, the Direktor's little droid 3D1T0-R hardly changed in the transition. He was a little creepy ball to start and he's still a little creepy ball now. One that was cooked up by Alec according to SIM-N, which makes sense given our pal's passion for film editing. Once the two were fully drawn I decided to test out my shading and lighting techniques in an attempt to make her look more menacing. If the response I got from the others on Discord is any indication, I succeeded. Indeed, this fem fatale filmmaker will fit in phenomenally as a 3K villain. Now the question is to who? 

[10] JURAKISS Finally we conclude things with a sketch somewhat prompted by @zernna. Way back in August of last year she was commissioned to draw my cretaceous crusader Saura and her girlfriend Patricia enjoying a delightful day at the pool, a pic as charming as that description would imply. In my comment thanking Ze I couldn't help but laugh at how the two had already been declared a cute couple despite how I hadn't drawn the two together in my own artwork yet. The Alien Artist than demanded I draw 'moar art of them then', prompting me to ask if that was a challenge. She said yes. Though not from a lack of trying, it took me nine freak'n months to meet that challenge. Blame that on me being a picky artist since I have been meaning to draw references of these characters in the meantime. After all, Zerna got asked to draw Saura in other pics without having any color references for the Blue Beast of Fosslin. Fortunately Saura's shown up in a number of previous Sketch BOOMs, now getting to share the spotlight with Patricia here. A Patricia that would've been notably paler were it not for Alec asking if I had any markers that matched Patricia's skin tone. I didn't, but the local hobby store did! Who knew Sharpie made skintone markers? It not only helped me color in the cute Muslim girl here, but also Cath and Wendy later on. Talk about a perfect purchase! Now if only the colors of Patricia's outfit were as satisfactory. Ah well, there's always next time, since I'm pretty sure Zerna's challenge still stands. XP For now though, I hope you all enjoy this compilations of crazy scribblings fresh from my mind. If you didn't, worry not, chances are I'll be making another one soon....

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU ALL!