#posting this here before i inevitably ruin it with color

[rainb0wrae]

theyve been on my mind lately heehehe why does no one talk ab them anymore😢💔

[mellosdrawings]

Oh cool on shading and color. I also like the detail of one of Leona's eyes being lighter. Is one part blind?

Yeah, I explained it a bit on the OG post but Imma develop a bit here.

Basically, we talked about Leona's scar with @aria-faye and started a headcanon that he probably loses his sight gradually over time. It comes from several things.

First, one of the things I like to do when I draw is zoom in on official arts to find all the details of a chara design. I am 99% sure it is just quality drop, but regularly when zooming in Leona's eyes, his scared eye seems more blurry than the other. Then again, it looks perfectly fine in other arts.

Second, eyes are very flimsy and even if it wasn't touched by whatever attack/accident made this scar, it could have been affected by the healing process. Simply having scar tissues brush against the cornea can change its shape and deteriorate it.

Third, losing one eye usually messes up with one's appreciation of distances, so it would be nigh impossible for Leona to be a Spelldrive prodigy if he was already affected in his teens.

From all those, I decided that for my Future!AU Leona would be gradually losing his sight for this eye. He probably abused healing magic until his mid-twenties to try and postpone the inevitable, but eventually he just admitted defeat and let this happen. His other senses are sharper than a human's, so it disables him less. Still sometimes he knocks things over because he misjudges distances. (If Jamil is around he catches by reflex whatever is knocked off before it can break. Courtesy of working around Kalim for years.)

By the time those three get married, Leona is still able to see lights and colors, but it is such a blurry mess that he might as well be blind. He uses some kind of lens (magical or physical) to obscure his mostly blind eye so that his other eye doesn't tire from over compensating. Vil refuses to have him wear an eyepatch.

(Sadly for Leona, he now has two nagging wives who won't let him ruin his own health)

[outofangband]

two posts about Himring related folklore for @nelyoslegalteam

I’m making a post about folklore in Angband soon too!

my tag for posts related to the position of ex thralls in Beleriand is 'but ever the noldor feared' and post angband! there are more related posts there!

The folklore of Himring is complex and the line between rumor, truth, and campfire tale is blurred.

The people of Himring are a diverse population, mostly Noldor of Fëanor’s host but some of Nolofinwë’s too, who wanted to be closer to the front lines or who were actually stationed there, a small population of Northern Sindar, and of course a small population of Angband survivors making up mostly Sindar and Avarin elves who were captured before the Noldor returned to Beleriand (I’ve talked about this on many posts but I’m always glad to say more! It’s one of my favorite subjects!)

The stories come from within the March and throughout the rest of Beleriand.

Tales of the desolate landscape itself were sparse before Maedhros built his fortress though people had been known to disappear around those hill near the river wells but whether they were taken by the cold or elements or the enemy was unknown.

The residents of Himring have a wealth of stories.

There are those that are woven simply for amusement, or to pass the time or sharpen the mind on long nights of watch where all you see is an endless expanse of winter. It’s easy to become confused then.

They tell of strange lights in the snow, of fires that appear to burn through the storms but vanish when travelers veer too close, of monstrous shadows that only their frightened horses can see.

There are the inevitable tales and rumors of Angband and those who have seen it. Some are shared among survivors, to comfort, confirm and console. Stories and tales from the fortress inevitably make their way into communities with any survivors, then spread by those on the outside.

Some fall into the timeless game of comparing wounds, out of anger or a bitter sport. The nastier tales that win these little games sometimes leave their private circles.

Many are spread by others with varying intentions. Of course there is simple curiosity and misinformation but there are those who repeat the vicious accusations often leveled at escaped thralls and often, towards Maedhros himself. I went into that in the last ask you sent I think.

And then of course there is Tol Himling, the remnants of the fortress of Himring on a tiny island. Few visit it unless by great need in stormy seas. It does not appear on all maps of the ocean. It is said to be haunted for those who seek shelter in its ruins rarely find peace. They dream of a hell of iron far below the waves and of blinding lights and stark cliffs they have never seen.

Second, an idea I've mentioned here but have wanted to make a longer post about it too

Inspired by @welcomingdisaster ‘s fantastic world building prompt list here! Prompt: native bird

One of my favorite topics to write about is the societal place of ex thralls in Beleriand and the culture of belief around Angband.

Among some in Beleriand and later, throughout Middle Earth, barn owls are believed to be the spirits of other predatory animals. This is because they are pale, fallow colors and because, unlike other owls, they do not hoot. The sound of the barn owl is a breathy shrieking sound that has often been described as something unearthly. The most common name for barn owl in Sindarin roughly translates to ghost hunter. 

Although these birds are not believed to be ill omens nor pose any danger to elvenkind by most, they have developed an association with other beings who exist in the margins between life and death, who flee or were driven from their homes, and who have returned to a state of hunter or hunted. In First Age Beleriand, they were sometimes associated with former thralls of Angband, usually those nameless ones who never came home or who were exiled by their own kin and who survive as wild beasts. 

These elves, though not all believed them to be such anymore, existed somewhere between reality and legend in Beleriand and beyond. 

Nonetheless, stories of pale wraith like figures who stole from, attacked or even ate their own kind, who moved with an uncanny silence even beyond the ability of the Eldar…these stories melded perfectly with the vision of barn owls and their eerie calls.

These perhaps later morphed with the stories told by the men who followed Morgoth about the Eldar as a whole. (Obligatory Morwen mention here too).

In the frozen abodes of Himring, watchers on the ramparts pause as the shadow of a ghost hunter passes silently by the winter moon. Some turn away or mutter a prayer. Some watch still closer.

[farfromstrange]

Watching the AMC tv adaptation of Anne Rice’s “Interview With The Vampire”, I got back into the mood of writing for my series ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’, but since it’s been a while since I’ve written anything fantasy-related, I decided to practice my vampire writing a bit more with a little One Shot. I’m going to tease it before I post it. I’m too excited not to. This baby will be yours tomorrow, and I will use my Matt Murdock Tag List for this, but if you want to be tagged (and you haven’t filled out my Tag List Form), let me know and I’ll tag you for this! Anyway, without further ado, here is a little sneak peak…

Interview With The Vampire

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: Vampirism, angst, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral sex, unprotected p in v (but it’s with a vampire, so not sure if that counts as a warning), blood play, biting, marking, scent kink, mentions of suicidal thoughts, violence, age gap, Dom!Matt, long One-Shot (it’s a word-count beast)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

ACTUAL SNEAK PEEK UNDER THE CUT

[…]

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps.

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again.

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil.

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him around, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature.

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving.

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

[…]

[catboymettaton]

hell is the Kroger produce aisle

2k words, rated G, inspired by a post from @kiyomitakada

L goes grocery shopping alone for the first time and immediately gets overwhelmed. Light, a sympathetic employee, helps him out. Can be read as platonic or romantic

read on ao3 or below

-

L shuts his eyes and hopes that when he opens them, everything will go back to how it’s supposed to be.

He’s been doing so well. It’s been four days since Watari left and in that time he has taken three showers, eaten nine meals, and left his house twice. He even managed to take the bus all the way here! The city bus, with all its noises and rude people.

He’s been doing a good job of being independent. He’s been doing a good job of demonstrating that he’ll one day be able to move out on his own.

But the bus was so loud, and he forgot sunglasses (he forgot the sun exists, honestly), and the inside of Kroger is so, so bright, and it’s playing music that chafes at his ears, and his mask isn’t doing enough to block the smells and what it is doing is blowing his own hot breath back at him, and people keep bumping into him with their carts.

Dimly, he realizes this is his fault, for standing in the middle of the aisle. But he can’t figure out how to proceed. He is locked here, in front of the apples that should be strawberries.

Watari was nervous about leaving him, even though it was just for a week. L insisted he could handle it, as long as they worked together to prepare. This included Watari drawing up a detailed map of Kroger, so that L would know exactly where to find anything he needed.

(The downside of strawberries is that they go bad so fast. Watari picked up enough of everything else to last him the whole week, but his strawberries would inevitably betray him within four days.)

(The upside of strawberries is that they are fresh and juicy and delicious.)

So here he is, stranded in the center of the produce aisle, as children screech around him and the pop singer keeps crooning about how much she loves or doesn’t love this new man, and his breath is tickling his nose, and the fluorescent lights bear down on him and this really shouldn’t bother him because he spends all his days with computers he’s used to bright lights in his eyes but somehow this is different, and no matter how long he stares the honey crisps refuse to morph into anything else.

Maybe he should just go home now. Maybe he should admit he failed and go home without his precious fresh strawberries and defrost the frozen strawberries he keeps in case of emergency but he saves them for emergencies because they’re never as good as the real thing, they always heat up either too cold or too hot and the texture isn’t right and they don’t have the leaves attached and the taste is all wrong. The last time he had to eat them was during a snowstorm that left ice on the streets so bad that even Watari couldn’t bear the drive, and then Watari was there to help him deal with the wrong texture and stop him from slipping away into one of his states where the numbers swim before his eyes and his tongue grows thick in his mouth and something under his skin screams at him to please just let it out.

The something under his skin is here now, calling to him from his wrists and his calves and the back of his neck, and he won’t let it out, he won’t let it out here in front of everyone, he’s twenty-four years old for god’s sake, he can handle buying groceries like a normal person!

But what he needs is strawberries, and they aren’t here. They just aren’t here.

He can feel the top of his mask growing damp, which means his eyeliner must be ruined, and he isn’t sure how well the filter stands up to moisture so he needs to get himself together and find the damn strawberries which have to be around here somewhere, right? But when he looks up he sees a blurry rainbow of colors all melting together, and he can’t parse where one aisle stops and another starts.

“Excuse me, could I help you find anything today?”

It’s the first voice he’s heard directed at him in four days. It’s chipper and polished and carries no sense of authenticity.

He turns and finds his eyes locked onto a stranger’s, warm and brown and framed with beautiful eyelashes and honey-brown bangs. His mouth is hidden behind a blue mask that matches his Kroger apron, but L can see his smile scrunching up his eyes.

L opens his mouth, but finds words have left him. Surely this man can help him find the strawberries, but only if he can ask for it. And try as he might, he just can’t seem to ask for it.

The man glances over his shoulder. L notices his name tag says Light. And like a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds, he seems to have appeared here specifically to save L from himself and his wretched brain.

“Hey,” Light says, and suddenly his voice is softer, no longer so upbeat. “Hey, how about we step outside for a moment?”

So L follows this stranger out to the sidewalk, and Light leads him to a corner tucked away from the road. He can still hear the roar of cars, but the music is gone, and the crying children, and the light is just normal sun, and he tears off his mask to feel a breeze on his face and he breathes deeply as his ears scream in relief.

He realizes he’s rocking back and forth. He tries to stop that. He already looks like a freak, he doesn’t need to make it worse.

“Are you feeling better now?”

L finds the channel between mind and mouth is still malfunctioning. He nods, tentatively.

“I know it can be a lot in there. I get it.” L looks over at him. He seemed so calm inside, and he works there, so he must be there all the time.

Light seems to read his thoughts. “It gets easier with practice. And these help, too.” He brushes his hair away from his ear and L sees the glint of an earplug within.

L feels woefully unprepared. With his usual isolated existence, he can keep his environment at precisely the volume he desires. But if he truly wants to be able to live on his own, he’ll have to venture into spaces outside of his control.

“So what are you looking for today? I can help you find whatever you need.” A bit of the polish is back, a little bit of a wall going back up between them.

L reaches into his pocket and draws out Watari’s carefully drawn map. He points at the section marked “Strawberries.”

Light’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, I see! We just rearranged the produce yesterday, to switch the apples and the strawberries. Sorry for the confusion!”

L nods in thanks.

“So what else is on your list?”

It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. L is now extremely aware that normal adults do not go to the store for three pounds of strawberries and nothing else. Should he ask for milk or something too?

He doesn’t like milk.

Light notices his waffling - he’s perceptive, isn’t he? “Is it just strawberries?”

L nods.

“Oh, that’ll be super easy! Here, I can show you exactly where they are!”

He moves to head back towards the entrance and L hesitates. He’s feeling a lot better now, but he’s worried that if he heads back inside, he’ll just lock up right away again. His powers of speech still elude him.

Light notices he isn’t following, and stops. He looks into L’s eyes, then down at his teeth nibbling his lips. If he was at home, he’d be chewing his nails, but after the bus trip he’ll be dirty till he takes a good hot shower.

“You know what?” Light’s voice has lost its edge again. “If it’s just strawberries, what if I grab them for you? How many do you need?”

L holds up three fingers.

“Three… pounds?”

L nods.

“Okay! I’ll try to pick the ripest ones. Do you have cash?”

He shakes his head.

“Venmo?”

He nods.

“Wait here and I’ll be right back!”

L watches him go then allows his body to begin rocking back and forth again. There’s no one here to see. He feels his heart rate finally falling to normal, his shoulders dropping, his tongue untangling itself.

True to his word, Light is back quickly, strawberry cases in tow.

“Thank you,” L manages.

Light almost manages to hide his surprise. His eyes crinkle up in a smile again. “Of course! And by the way, we offer grocery pickup and delivery, if that would be easy for you in the future.”

“Really?” L should have thought to check the website himself, rather than relying on Watari and his fifty year old methods.

“Yes, it’s very convenient! You pick your items online and then you can come get them here, or we can take them directly to your house.”

Directly to his house…

L nods. “Thank you, that sounds very useful.” He tucks the strawberries into his tote bag and inspects the receipt. “May I repay you now?”

Light pulls up a QR code. It brings L to his profile, with a photo of Light smiling brightly. His surname is Yagami. L sends the money over, with a 25% tip for excellent service.

“I’m glad I could help you out today!”

“Thank you again. Sorry for interrupting your day.”

“No need to apologize - helping customers is my job, after all.”

L shuffles his feet awkwardly. He needs to go home and leave Light to return to work , which he’s nearly certain does not typically include personal shopping for pathetic autistic men hopelessly dependent on their grandfathers.

But he likes Light. It’s rare for him to find someone easy to talk with; he’s content to spend most of his days speaking to Watari and no one else.

And he’s nervous for the bus ride back. It’ll be loud again, and people will bump into him, and his mask will tickle his nose and yank at his ears, which is still better than getting sick but unpleasant all the same.

Light, it seems, is not in a rush to get back inside either. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

L shakes his head. “I should get going.”

“Are you sure? You look like you have something on your mind. ”

L swallows. “I’m nervous about the bus. It’s going to be loud.”

Light nods. “Wait right here.”

He’s back in less than a minute with a pair of headphones cradled in his arms, black with red details. L stares at them. Is Light really entrusting him, a total stranger, with something so valuable?

“You can borrow these for the ride. But… you should give me your number so we can find a time for you to get them back.”

L is speechless again, but now it has nothing to do with his environment. He nods, and fumbles to pull his phone out again, self conscious of the way he grips it by the corners.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ryuzaki,” L lies. He doesn’t know why. But he can’t take it back, so he watches Light type the false name above his number. He adds a strawberry emoji at the end.

“Have a safe ride back, Ryuzaki. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

L nods again, still stunned. He’s never had someone to text when he gets home before, since Watari always knows.

He heads to the bus stop, slipping the headphones on over his mask. The pressure of the ear cups is comforting and almost makes him forget about the straps digging into his ears. They’re playing a soft static that blocks out the rush of the world around him, giving him a personal bubble of quiet amid the bustle of the city.

When he makes it back home, he snaps a picture of himself biting into a strawberry, just for Light. It’s perfectly ripe and sweet and fresh and everything he’s been hoping for.

He fires off a text to Watari:

Kroger went great, no issues. Also, I made a new friend.

[jinkicake]

Open Arms

Lucifer always makes it a point to remind you of his love. 

Lucifer x Reader

A/N: While doing my nightly scroll through the Lucifer tag, I came across this post and just had to further my soft!Lucifer agenda. 

WC - 1.1k ish

SMUT // NSFW 

~~~

When Lucifer has to tell you ‘goodbye’ he holds you incredibly tight. The powerful demon uses his gentlest touch with your body to ensure that no harm comes to his beloved human. His tender love is a drastic change from the way he usually fucks you into his sheets. Right now, he memorizes the mold of your body against his own and all the soft sounds leaving your lips. Lucifer makes sure that you will remember his touch, remember this exact moment, and leave you wanting more as a promise that you’ll return to him. 

His desperation is seen in his slow thrusts, deeply penetrating your cunt and causing your body to jolt with each movement. Lucifer hooks his forearms underneath your calves, pressing your limbs to your chest to ensure that he can get even closer to you. The only thing that matters to Lucifer right now is the proximity of your bodies. The kiss of his tip brushing against that sweet spot inside of you serves as a reminder not to forget about him. The soft touch of his lips against your forehead begs you to remember everything that the two of you share. 

“My love,” Lucifer can’t help but become worried whenever you leave his side, whenever you make your inevitable return to the human world. Devildom would fall into ruins if he didn’t ever get to hold you in his arms again. 

The anxiety that comes as a result of the unforeseen future can only be calmed by your touch, only you can hold Lucifer’s face in your hands and promise him that you’ll be okay. Just as Lucifer is the only one who can promise you a love so deep, a love so passionate.

“Come back soon,” He murmurs against your lips, eyes fluttering shut once he has memorized the pure ecstasy on your face. “you’ll always have a home here.” You can only whimper against his lips, against the romantic kiss that softly presses into your heart. As your lips move together in sync, the steady pace of Lucifer’s thrusts grows quicker. His grunts cannot be contained by your lips and you start failing to kiss him back, your mouth parts as gasps escape you. 

“Lucifer,” You cry, head falling back against the lush pillows of the demon’s bed. The satin cases he had placed just for you, the dark color that matches the room perfectly. Everything in his space reminds him of you and always will. 

His thumb finds your clit with ease, unbeknownst to you, and rips a heavy moan from your lips. The tight circles against your bud make you cry out for the demon, holding him much more intently than before. Your legs lock around his waist, ensuring that he won’t move a single inch away from you as you tighten the grip you have digging into his shoulders. You desperately need Lucifer close to you. 

Your manicured nails scratching his skin is a telltale sign of your impending release. Lucifer almost always cums just at the mere feeling of the blissful pain. 

“Cum, pretty human,” Lucifer whispers into your ear, his lips hovering over the skin so that you can hear every moan saved for you. “my pet,” The only time Lucifer will drop pet name after pet name is when the tightening in his gut becomes too much to handle, when your cunt sucks him in so wonderfully and you’re already convulsing around his aching cock. “I love you.”

Lucifer will absolutely devour you any chance he gets and when the demon finally has you back in his arms once again, greeting you with a heavy kiss, he can breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, holding you so tightly that you almost forget how to breathe. No one will disturb him on the day of your return, his plans only revolve around you. 

Pleasuring you. 

Unlike when he has to say ‘goodbye’ when Lucifer says ‘hello’, he picks up right where he left off before. His touch is a bit rushed due to the pent-up desperation inside, he yearns to have you just once more. He kisses you lots, not removing his lips once as he rids your bodies of your clothes. 

Lucifer can’t keep his hands off of you. Familiar hands trail up your sides, running over your thighs while roughly squeezing you within his warm palm. 

The demon works quickly and hastily removes all of your clothing, his clothes even find a corner in the side of his room. He yearns for bare skin-to-skin contact, he needs to feel you against him and settle the desires that only you can satisfy. 

“I’ve missed you,” Lucifer coos into your lips before snaking his tongue into your mouth, he moans deeply at the feeling of your hot muscle fighting back against his own. He licks and curls against your tongue before sucking so intently that you fall as putty into his hands. “missed you so much.” 

You’ll only ever see Lucifer this honest when his emotions are heightened by your presence. 

“I missed you too, Luci,” Your sweet sighs, the gentle call of his name causes the demon to blush. He turns red at the beautiful melody of your voice and his cock stirs at the way you call his name. 

Oh, he needs you as if you’re the air he breathes.

“How have you been?” You’re so sweet to care about him like this, to hold his face gently once more in your soft hands. The burst in his chest nearly becomes too overwhelming and it takes Lucifer a moment to respond back. 

“Lonely,” He kisses the corner of your mouth, carefully pressing his lips into your skin before making his way to your jaw. “and you, my dear?” You whine as he nips at your skin. 

“Also, lonely,” You suck in a deep breath as you try to remember how to breathe. His touch nearly knocks the air out of your chest as all of the precious memories that you share are splayed throughout his fingertips. “I missed you so much.” Every second you were apart from the demon, you missed him. 

Lucifer quietly laughs against your throat and nudges your head back with his narrow nose. With the way you are reacting to his touch alone, Lucifer can only imagine how lonely you’ve been. 

“I’ll take care of you now,” He promises and all too quickly, moves his lips down to your chest (leaving a trail of kisses behind in its wake). “we have a lot of time to make up for.”

-ps youre both dramatic and have been separated for two weeks LMFAOOO-

[vidalinav]

Nessian Week Day 2: Gifts

Summary: Nesta finds the present Cassian threw in the Sidra. 

Look I can only write prompts in Cassian’s POV for some reason and he’s always a simp. I can’t make him less of a simp. I think I’m projecting my own love for Nesta Archeron, but it is what it is.

~

Cassian’s sitting in the living room, and the windows are open as well as the doors, and Nesta chooses to be outside. She wants fresh air, she says. It’s a beautiful day and Cassian can’t blame her, but he tries not to grumble in her absence. He’s stuck inside, waiting on Rhys who conveniently forgets they have a meeting today. 

It seems, Rhys would rather be with someone else... and Cassian would rather be with her. He jostles his leg impatiently, sighing every few minutes, thinking of all the ways he could be spending his time. 

At least, they’re going to a new restaurant in the city after. Cassian can’t wait and he looks to the clock as if his glare might make it tick faster. 

He’s sure after the restaurant, they’ll inevitably find themselves in bookshops. Cassian smiles at the thought. It seems they have a routine. 

One after another, they’ll peruse until he’s carrying a tower of romances. Nesta will make a game of it, he’s sure. How many can he carry before he drops them or she can’t reach the top even as he leans down? How many can she get away with before he starts complaining that his arms hurt? 

Cassian will do no such thing. Nesta should have as many books as she wants. Mother knows they have a house big enough for three hundred libraries. They can stand to have three hundred more. It will feel like three hundred books anyway, but Cassian won’t say a word. In fact, he’ll tell her she forgot to look in this aisle and jut his chin to the colorful bindings and some title that’s laughingly  scandalizing. 

Nesta will feel guilty about it later that evening though, as she always does, and so she’ll smile fondly. Gift it to him. That small, tilt of her lips, the mirth reaching her eyes. For holding all those books. Nesta will hold him closer too, because when she’s happy, she stops thinking about the city lights and the people and the noise. She keeps looking to him, tucking her hand into his, leaning her head on his arm. They’ll listen to the music as they walk, and all of it will sound sweet, and soft, but really he’ll be too distracted by her. All of her. 

Cassian sighs. He’d rather be outside with Nesta--whatever she’s doing. Anywhere but here waiting for Rhys who’s taking his damn time. 

He hears the sound of footsteps and sends a thank you to the Mother. Finally. Cassian gets up thinking it’s Rhys. He might just punch his brother for taking so long. Where have you been? He’ll screech. 

But it’s Nesta who comes trampling through one of the sliding doors. 

Better option, he thinks, and he’s about to say so, but Cassian notices the light blue fabric, the lacy edges trailed in dirt. 

Her dress is caked in mud, the bottom drenched. She has a spot of dirt on her cheek, and Cassian brushes it off as she nears, as he pulls her close. Nesta pays no mind; she only grins. A big, happy expression that he’s already named. 

Nesta only smiles like that when she’s over the moon, when the sun seemingly sinks into her chest and wants to shine from her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Sunset hues. Peaches and blush and bright skies. Cassian feels warm to his toes, and he smiles unconsciously for she brings out the sun. 

Nesta holds up a little box and Cassian eyes it curiously. 

“I found a book!” She explains, “It’s the smallest book I’ve ever seen.” 

Cassian looks to the box again not recognizing the color. He’s sure it can't be--

But it is. She opens the box, not torn at all, and inside lays a perfectly small book. Made my tiny, fairy hands. All the pages are intact, no water or mud in sight as if it’s never seen the Sidra at all. 

Cassian holds his breath, but Nesta grins so fondly, he feels his chest start to squeeze. 

“I was just walking along the river and I saw something on the side, and... I was curious,” She says sheepishly. 

Nesta never can keep her curiosity down, and it explains her dress coated in the banks of the Sidra. He half wants to chastise for not getting him to help her. She must have climbed all the way down and he could have flown. She could have gotten hurt or carried away by the rapid tide. It’s at least a good couple of feet... but he shakes away his worry as she holds up the gift. 

He just can’t believe it. 

“So I climbed down a bit and I dug out the box! It’s perfect, isn’t it? I’m surprised the water didn’t ruin it. It must have come in with the storm last week.” 

“Where do you think it came from?” He asks, because he doesn’t know what else to say as Nesta looks at the book, flipping through the pages carefully. “Does it belong to anyone, you think?” 

It’s yours, he wants to blurt. I got it for you. It was yours all along. Just like I was. 

But Cassian doesn’t say that, he can’t make words form... and he knows where it came from. He doesn’t know what the words mean, but he know who made it. What type of material it is. How many exist in the world? Not many, but one is in her hand when it had only ever met his pocket and the sea. 

It must be some work of fae magic. A blessing from the Mother who know Nesta deserves the world... or he deserves some peace. Whatever power calls forth the tide or preserves paper in a flimsy box, he’s grateful for it. For the way, Nesta smiles like that. 

Nesta holds up her chin as if she’ll fight any person who claims it’s theirs, who tries to take it from her. A ferocious sort of gleam in her eyes. “I don’t know... but it’s mine now. I’m the one who climbed down for it. I’m caked in mud.”

Cassian’s lips raise as he wraps his arms around her waist, “I think it was definitely meant to be yours.” 

“It feels like mine,” she says softly. Nesta looks at the tiny book. It’s purple cover a sheen of old leather, stamped with unrecognizable words. She clasps it to her chest like she’s trying to burrow it away in her heart. Somewhere precious and protected behind a ribcage and a will of iron. 

All she loves is stored there. 

Cassian is there, too, he knows, because of that look she makes. That softness in her eyes, the sun in her smile. It’s reserved for him. For him and this tiny book. 

I’m yours, he thinks. 

Cassian grips her hand, pulling her towards the door. “Let’s see if we can go find a magnifying glass. Maybe we can try and read the words.” 

Nesta frowns, “I thought you had a meeting.” 

Cassian shakes his head, forgetting all about this room and Rhys and meetings. All that matters is her. “It’s not important,” he says. 

That joy, he thinks, is more important than anything. A blessing. A gift. He wonders how many times he can make her smile like that. 

Cassian doesn’t know, but he’s sure he’ll make a game of it. 

~

Tag List:

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08

~

The only reason I wrote this is because I was tagged on nessian week and therefore felt obligated to post something. Apparently you can get me to write anything if you give me the obligation. 

Bye! 

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[kevindayisafrog]

Part 2 of the post that was supposed to be a one shot inspired by @knandersonart ‘s art on Instagram (I have too many ideas for it to be left as a one shot, babe, I’ve got a whole book planned)

TW - abuse, anxiety and mentions of Dr*ke

Kevin had been at Palmetto for over a year now; alone and in fear. He tried hard to fit in with the upperclassmen but his short temper and constant panic left a huge gap between them that no one had tried to fill. He tried to get close to his father too but he knew that he’d never be able to tell him who he really was to him; he knew that his dad would only turn him away like Riko said. Kevin tried to keep in contact with Neil but their texts and calls had gone from one a day to one every few months. Everything was falling apart and all Kevin could do was watch as he fought like hell to climb back to the top. And the top is where he is now, but this time the podium he’s standing on is for him only, Riko can’t pull him down. Until Kevin’s alone with his thoughts, then he remembers how small he is against Riko’s power and ruthless abuse. Kevin felt himself slip further into the darkness around him when the championships were announced, something to finally concentrate on and a place where he’ll finally be with his Neil again; even if they’ll be against each other.

Kevin stared blankly at the empty bus seat in front of him as he sat at the back of bus alone; distantly listening to the upperclassmen’s idle conversation as the foxes made their way to the banquet. He couldn’t sit still as fear warred with excitement in his tight chest. He placed his AirPods in and called Neil, knowing that he’d see him in less than an hour but couldn’t wait to hear his voice. He grumbled to himself when it went to the voicemail and hung up, choosing to listen to his music instead as he watched the scenery pass by in a colored blur through the window.

Kevin was last off the bus and he stood behind the other foxes as Wymack opened the storage compartment on the coach, passing their outfits to each player. Matt tossed Kevin his dark green suit before turning back and catching his own suit before it hit the ground. “Jesus, Coach, this cost me a lot of money”, Matt smiled despite his words and smoothed down his suit. Wymack retorted dryly but Kevin didn’t hear what was said as he already turned and made his way towards the stadium; his body buzzing with a distant memory of Neil’s body close to his. He pushed his way into the locker room with a sign reading: ‘Palmetto Foxes’ written in black sharpie. He quickly threw on his suit with his back to the others, ignoring Nicky’s wolf whistle as he moved to the mirror to smooth down his forest green blazer. “Where are you going, hot stuff?”, Nicky winked with a laugh as Aaron groaned and turned away from his cousin. “I’ll be on the court”, Kevin muttered as he left the locker room and walked as fast as he could to the court. It pained him to see a perfect court being used as a dance floor and dining area, but he wasn’t here to be disgusted. He opened the court door as he felt a stern hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch and duck down. “Don’t worry, it’s only me”, Wymack pulled Kevin back up and turned him so that they were facing each other, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay before you walk into the lion’s mouth”. Kevin looked up into his father’s eyes and blushed in embarrassment at the raw worry that he saw. “I’ll be fine as long as we’re not near Riko or Tetsuji”, he wrung his hands together and tapped his foot impatiently. “I’ll keep an eye on you, kid and if you’re worried in any way come straight to me, okay?”, Wymack gave a fierce squeeze of Kevin’s shoulder before pushing him through the door. Kevin turned away and made his way over to where the seating charts were. He ran his finger down the sheet until he found the Foxes’ name and made his way to the back table, freezing as Riko stood from their shared table. “Kevin, welcome home”, Riko announced in Japanese, spreading his arms in a vicious gesture of a hug. Kevin gulped and clenched his hands before taking a deep breath and making his way over to the table. “Riko”, he muttered as he sat down opposite Neil, relaxing as Neil wrapped their ankles together, “the rest of my team are just coming”. Riko barked a shrill laugh as he sat down and leaned towards Kevin, “me and Jean were just talking about how we’re surprised you guys made it into the championships, what with your small number of players”. Jean looked up and sent Kevin a subtle shake of his head, mouthing a small ‘I’m sorry’. Kevin sent a small smile back before turning to Neil, ignoring Riko’s annoyed frown. “Hi”, he whispered, running his ankle up to Neil’s thigh. “I’ve missed you”, Neil replied in French, reaching down and squeezing Kevin’s ankle under the table. “Hmmm, so we’re doing this now? Speaking other languages so I won’t understand”, Riko nodded slowly before laughing and curling a large smile, “your mother would be so disappointed in your disobedience. If you’d shut up we’d all hear her turning in her grave. Even though we’re so far away from her”. Kevin tensed and clenched his jaw, trying not to give Riko the satisfaction by showing his anger.

“Riko, it’s so lovely to meet you, Dan Wilds”, Dan led her team to the table and scraped her chair back, sitting down with her hand extended to Riko. Riko looked at her hand in disgust before shaking it with a fake smile, “I hope you’re looking after my Kevin for me”. Matt sat beside Dan and laughed sarcastically, “he’s not yours anymore, he’s ours”. Riko dropped Dan’s hand onto the table with a thud and turned to Kevin, “weren’t you just telling me how much you hated this team and that they’ll never win the championships?”. Kevin sat up straighter and smiled, “no, I wouldn’t say that and do you know why, Riko? Because although these aren’t the best players, they’re the strongest I’ve ever met. They use their teamwork to push back and fight to win their deserved place at the top. You won’t be smiling so wide when we beat you and win the championships”. Riko’s smile fell and he grabbed Kevin’s left wrist in an iron grip, “don’t fucking push me tonight, remember that you’re my pet. I won’t hesitate to put you down, do you hear me? One wrong move and I’ll bring your whole team down with you, see if you’re so brave then”, he growled in rapid Japanese. Nicky looked between the two before placing his hand over Riko’s and digging his nails in deep, “I’d advise you to take your hands off of him or I’ll break it off”. Kevin turned to Nicky in surprise and was shocked enough to let his long lost genuine smile get plastered across his face. Riko pulled his hand away and glared at Kevin, “you’ve deluded these jokes into thinking that they’re better than they are. You’re getting cocky, Kevin, what will you do when they turn you away like they inevitably will?” Andrew elbowed Neil to get him out of the way and leant on Neil’s hunched back, “now, now, Riko, let’s not throw your toys out of the pram. I told you what I’d do if you messed with my family, do you really want to test my word?”. Riko tensed and slowly turned to face Andrew, “One more word, Andrew and I will get an old friend over to play with you. Drake must miss you”. Andrew flinched at the name and let out a long medicated laugh, “try me” he growled. Neil shouldered Andrew off and stood up, ignoring Riko’s glare, “I’m going to the bathroom, try and fucking stop me”. The foxes watched in silence as Neil left the room without a single glance back to the table. “Your pets aren’t as loyal as you thought, are they?”, Dan asked and she tapped her nails against her glass, “must suck when everyone turns their back on you”. Riko growled in annoyance, hating how he’d lost control of the situation and his words were thrown back at him. Kevin stood up quickly, knocking his chair onto the floor with a loud clatter as he left the table, half running to the bathroom and ignoring Wymack’s shouts of concern.

“Neil?”, Kevin called into the seemingly empty bathroom, pushing open the stool doors slowly. “I really did miss you”, Neil walked around from the corner of the room and stood on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Kevin’s neck, “I actually missed your irritating shouting and obnoxious presence on the court”. Kevin let out a small huff as he brought their lips together, smiling into the kiss of ‘hello’. “I hate you”, he whispered into the kiss, knotting his fingers in Neil’s orange hair. “Sure you do”, Neil replied, purring as Kevin tugged lightly on his hair. Kevin pulled away first and stared down into the ocean blue eyes before him, the auburn eyelashes fluttering his eyes back open. “Neil”, Kevin started but Neil let go and walked away to the sinks, “please just hear me out”. Neil sighed and turned on the tap, “Kevin, not now, can we just have this moment? Stop trying to ruin everything”. Kevin frowned and followed Neil, leaning his hip beside him at the sink, “I don’t ruin everything”, he muttered. Neil placed his hands under the tap, refusing to look up at his pouting boyfriend, “you know that’s not what I meant”, he sighed and dropped his hands to the bottom of the sink, “I can’t come back with you”. Kevin groaned in annoyance and pushed off of the sink, pacing his way back to the stools, “why not? Why the fuck not, Neil? Nothing is stopping you and even if something was you wouldn’t care anyway”. Neil turned the tap off and slammed his hands against the ceramic, “for fuck’s sake, Kevin, are you being obtuse on purpose? If I could go, I would. Do you think that I enjoy the nest? Do you think I like you being so far away from me? Because I fucking don’t, it’s hell”. Kevin laughed flatly and crossed his arms, half turning away, “you can come with me, you just don’t want to”. Neil pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed heavily, “why do you always twist things? Listen to me”, he dropped his hands and marched over to Kevin, pulling his arms apart forcibly, causing him to flinch, “listen, I hate not being without you, okay? And I know it makes you cringe when people talk like this, but I can’t live without you and I hate to admit, I really do, but I need you. I’m trying so hard to get out of there so you’re not alone anymore and Andrew’s helping too. We’re so close to getting out, we just need to be patient and wait a little longer before we can be with each other again, okay?”. Kevin dropped his head and Neil stood on his tiptoes so their foreheads could touch. “I hate being alone”, Kevin whispered, “I’ve never been alone before. When my mom found out who Tetsuji really was, who his family were, she exiled us to Ireland and never let me leave her sight. She took me everywhere with her, not even trusting teachers to look after me at school. But she left to go to the shops in the next town whilst I was sleeping and Tetsuji paid people to stage a fatal car accident. After that day I was with Riko and he wouldn’t let me leave his sight either, so I don’t know what to fucking do. I’ve never been alone before”, he sniffed and let out a small whimper. Neil gently placed his hands either side of Kevin’s face and placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose, “you’re not alone, I’ll never let you go”. Kevin lifted his head and turned to look away, “but you are leaving me alone”. Neil shook Kevin’s head and pressed his own head against Kevin’s ribs, “I’m trying, I really am”.

They stood in silence as Kevin hesitantly wrapped his arms around Neil’s shoulders. “I know you are, I’m sorry, I’m just scared”, he placed a gentle kiss atop Neil’s head and rocked him side to side slowly. Neil hummed and looked up, taking in his boyfriend’s worry filled eyes, “that color looks good on you”. Kevin frowned and looked down at his suit, “I wanted to wear red but I don’t really suit it”. Neil snorted and pulled away, turning to walk to the bathroom door, “you suit red, Kevin, trust me”. Kevin watched as Neil left the bathroom with a wink and couldn’t help but feel alone once again, a heavy feeling weighing on his chest. “Thank you”, he whispered with a small smile to the space Neil left behind as Riko kicked open the door with two broad shouldered Raven players behind him.

[hammeredalcoholic]

my only friend

kira yoshikage / reader ;

rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old ; tension at the end of chapter

here is chapter 2! link to chapter 1. hope you guys enjoy this, i am falling back in love with writing this thing. cross posted to ao3.

here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.

“you've been riding two wheelers all your life it's not like i'm asking to be your wife i wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say is this coming off in a cheesy way?”

The skies were covered in clouds, smoldering and dark, threatening to spill rain at any time. The air was chilly, causing goosebumps to line your arms and make the hairs on your neck stand up. Fall was just upon you, the summer months had passed within seconds it seemed. Not that you really cared-- autumn was beautiful, bringing colored trees and pretty sunsets. 

Your shoes scuffed against the concrete you sat upon, your fingers barely holding onto a lit cigarette. You really ought to quit-- but the high of nicotine was just too much to give up. The taste of tobacco on your tongue was all you tried to focus on, but it was hard. 

Hard when you sat outside of a dingy apartment, of a person you didn’t know, waiting for your companion to take their miserable life. 

This was normal. You’d go a few days on the road, staying at whichever place you could, before Yoshikage started to feel the urges, as he called them. He had said it once before to you, and it was something that you hadn’t been able to quite let go. 

“I just-- can’t help it,” His words were soft, and small. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, ghosting over the frayed edges of his baby blue sweater. “I can’t control myself when I get this way. It’s just that it’s in my nature to kill.” 

Kira’s eyes were hidden behind his blond bangs, deep and dark and full of sorrow. He couldn’t help that he was this way, despite the fact that he wanted to live a quiet life. He didn’t want to be a bother on others, but it seemed like he had just dug himself in a hole. 

Your mind jumped from that memory to another. The phone call. The one that changed your life drastically. 

3:31 AM flashed on your alarm clock. The landline was ringing, practically jumping off your bedside table. Who the hell would need to call you right now? All of Morioh should be asleep-- your hand reached for it, gently picking it up off the receiver and holding it to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

A shaky voice was on the other end. Distant and gravely-- barely speaking above a whisper. 

“D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” He sounded awful. Hiccups between every word, and you were positive he had been crying. “Yoshikage-- What happened? What’s going on?” 

Yoshikage Kira had never sounded like this. He sounded so broken-- like a glass vase shattered across a concrete floor. There was a small hiccup, and a breathy sigh on the other end. “I made-- I made a big mistake. I need your help.” 

A big mistake? What the hell did that mean? 

“Can you please meet me at Reimi Sugimoto’s house? You know where that is right?” He sounded even more desperate with each passing second. Yes, you did know where she lived-- it was on your walking path to and from school everyday. It should only take you about 5 minutes to get there, if you booked it. 

“Yes, yes, okay. I’ll be there soon. Whatever you do, don’t run away.” With those words being said, the line was cut off. Quickly, and being as quiet as possible, you got some pants and a sweatshirt on, stuffing a pillow under your blankets to make it seem like you were still sleeping. Thinking semi-clearly, you grabbed a backpack and put some extra clothes and your trusted pocket knife inside. 

Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you grabbed your keys from your desk and slipped out of your room. This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out, so you knew each creak and cranny in the wooden stairs leading to the main entrance of your house. As quickly as you could, you slipped out of the house without a sound. 

You quickly bolted to your car that was slightly down the street, thanking your past self for the distance. Your parents wouldn’t hear the car start, or you driving off to save your friend. Hopping in and starting the engine up, you quickly left in the direction of the Sugimoto residence.

Screams were faint in your ears. 

Deciding that another cigarette was inevitable, you quickly pulled it out of the pack and lit it. You could have waited in the car, but-- you didn’t want Yoshikage to get hurt. You wanted to be there for him until the very end, so there you sat, against the grimy brick wall, feeling all sorts of out of place. 

You let your mind drift again. 

Driving well over the speed limit, you made it there in less than 3 minutes. From the outside of the house, it didn’t look like much had happened. The lawn was normal, the house the same as when you had driven past yesterday. That was until you noticed him-- a figure, clad in a pale blue sweater, sitting on the front steps of the building. 

His hands, covered in his sleeves, were pressed firmly against his face. If it hadn’t been in the middle of the night, you would have been able to make out the bright red stains that coated his clothes. Quickly pulling the car to the side of the road, you got out without a second guess. 

Quickly rushing up to the boy, you stopped only feet away from him. 

“Yoshi… What-- What happened?” Blood. Blood on his sleeves-- his pants-- his hair. Fuck, his face was even coated in it. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up at you with wide, cold-dead eyes. They were bright red and puffy, telling that he was sobbing his eyes out only moments previously. 

“I-- I made a mistake.” Kira’s voice was only a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening, you would have thought it to be the midnight wind. “What mistake?” You pressed, stepping closer to the seated boy. 

“I-- I,” Yoshikage stuttered, before tears lined his eyes. “I killed them.” He spoke so softly, before looking at his blood stained hands. “I killed them.” He stated, louder, looking up at you again. “I killed her parents. Her dog. And then-- her.” His voice was shaking, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.” 

You stared at him in disbelief. He-- Yoshikage Kira, the boy that grew up with you, silent but friendly, playing with only you throughout elementary, hanging out with you during middle school and high school-- your best friend. He had killed someone. Not someone, multiple people. 

Fist shaking at your sides, chills running up your spine, sweat practically dripping from your temple. 

You had a choice to make. 

Leave him, let him get caught-- probably executed. Or--

“I’ll help you. Let’s go.” 

You’ve never seen Kira’s eyes light up like that before. Bright blue, even in the pale moonlight. They were so blue, you swore you could have gotten lost in them. That’s your favorite part of the memory, thinking back on the relief he must have felt. It sent warmth through your body, butterflies floating in your stomach. 

You knew, despite how much you question your own motives now and again, you wouldn’t be able to leave Kira. He’s been a staple in your life, much like you must have been to him. Why would he ask you for help if that wasn’t the case? 

The skies had grown dark as you were reminiscent, and your stomach growling had alerted you that it might not be a bad idea to get some food. Glancing at the door to the apartment, you briefly wondered if Yoshikage would even notice if you left. But, then again, he might be hungry too. You weighed your options, and decided it would be best to just ask him. 

Getting up to your feet, you flicked the butt of your cigarette over the railing of the complex. Your feet tingled with sleep, and your fists clenched as you stared at the awful wooden door. Your mind ran a million miles an hour, going through several thoughts about what he could possibly be doing behind that wretched piece of wood. 

Just as you were about to knock on the door, it opened. 

Kira stood there, eyes wide when he noticed you standing in front of him. He was absolutely drenched in blood-- his sweater was stained, khakis barely recognizable. His face and hair were also decently covered. His eyes quickly darted to his ruined chucks, and he spoke very softly. 

“I-- I’m done.” 

You let out a quick sigh of relief, and decided not to question him. “Well if that’s the case, how about we go get some food and find a place to clean you up?” Kira didn’t say anything, just nodded. With that, you both left the apartment complex. 

As the night went on, you both decided that getting some fast food and trying to find a laundromat was in order. You were rather thankful for the dark, as the person who took your measly ones at the burger joint didn’t even bat an eye at your companion’s appearance. 

Luckily, there was a laundromat just down the street. Pulling up and parking in the vacant lot, you both got out your burgers and ate in relative silence.

After downing your food in what felt like 3 bites, you looked over at your friend. He didn’t look like he was thinking about much-- his hands were steady, eyes somewhat glossed over from the food, and completely ignoring the fact that he was still very much covered in blood. 

“Do you feel better?” The words felt almost foreign on your tongue, despite feeling like you asked him this every single time. Kira looked over at you, swallowing the bite he was chewing before responding. “Yeah. I do,” He rolled up the remaining half of his sandwich in the wrapper, putting it back in the bag. “But I would like to clean up my clothes.” 

You snorted, grabbing your drink from the console and taking a few gulps. “I’m sure you would. It looks like it’s fairly empty in there, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You glanced at the clock in your car, and the bright red numbers informed you that it was well past midnight at this point. Kira must have noticed it too, and he began to get out of the vehicle. 

Doing the same, you pulled the bag of quarters you keep in the console out and stuffed them in your pocket. You followed Yoshikage inside, quickly turning and locking your car before entering the building. 

The place was very much run down-- old washing machines lined the dirty walls. Neon lights glimmered from outside, casting weird shadows across the floor. Kira kept walking to the back of the building, deciding to use the machines that were farthest from the windows. You followed him absentmindedly, hoping up on one of the machines and pulling out your little sack of change. 

Yoshikage’s eyes glanced at your before they went down to his feet, and he quickly shrugged off his baby blue sweater. You swore that thing had been through its life cycle already-- ever since he got it at the beginning of high school, it seemed to be the only article of clothing he wore. He threw it into the washing machine next to you, his hands going back up to unbutton his undershirt. 

At that point, you found it hard not to stare. 

Yoshikage Kira may have been your best friend from preschool to now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive. Bright blonde curls and icy blue eyes-- along with a jawline that could surely cut glass. 

The coins in your hand quickly became your second priority, as your eyes lingered on each inch of skin he revealed. This wasn’t even your first time seeing him semi-nude-- he sleeps in the same bed as you most nights. But this-- this was different. 

Soon enough his button up was shrugged off and tossed in the washer, and you quickly averted your eyes to the coins you held in your palm. You were playing a very dangerous game, and you weren’t sure what Kira would do if he caught you looking at him like a piece of meat. 

As you tried to count the quarters that were needed for the machine to run, you heard your companion’s shoes be kicked off. Then, the sound of a button and fly being undone made your cheeks heat up within seconds. Your mind was doing mental backflips, going back and forth between looking, and keeping your eyes down. 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw his soiled khakis drop around his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them, throwing them in the machine. 

“Hey. I need a dollar and twenty-five cents to start it.” His words practically made you jump, and you held out your palm with the money he needed. Kira easily noticed how flustered you were, and let his fingers linger in yours while he took the coins. Soon enough, the machine roared to life, and you heard Kira take a seat next to you. 

Swallowing your pride, you decided it wasn’t worth avoiding his gaze, so you looked over at him. 

His skin was almost glowing in the awful lighting of the building, collar bones prominent and his muscles were exceptionally toned. You felt your eyes linger on his hips, almost tracing the V shape that dipped into his boxer briefs. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your eyes immediately went up to meet his own. 

They had grown dark, silver pools watching your every move. A small smirk had formed on his lips, and you almost had to bite your lip from making any sort of noise. 

Your mind screamed at you to look away. Stop staring at him and just look at literally anything else. 

But then, something else happened that made your world turn upside down. 

Did he fucking wink?

[illneverrecover]

the sweetest thing (M) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader ➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut. ➛word count: 4799 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter. ➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart. ➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama​ (and the kind bank of @quinnkook​), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤 ➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff  & Poison - GOT7  for the dirty dirty.

“She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”

Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”

Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”

The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.

“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”

“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”

“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”

“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”

Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”

“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”

“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence. 

Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea. 

Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop. 

He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll. 

For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.

Until you.

Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.

He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.

While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.

And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact. 

It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.

Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?

After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.

It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.

Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.

He was desperate.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."

Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."

Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.

"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"

"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."

"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.

Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?

You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.

His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears. 

Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.

You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.

But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.

He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.

Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.

They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.

But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.

It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.

Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.

And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.

It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.

Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.

"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"

"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."

The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."

You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."

"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"

I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.

To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.

With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.

"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"

"Y/N."

"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.

"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."

That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"

Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.

“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”

“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”

You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly. 

“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”

He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”

“Is this another cat analogy?”

Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes. 

“I already regret this.”

Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”

The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.

The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.

It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile. 

You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.

He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.

And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest. 

“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range. 

“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”

“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”

Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest. 

“I guess that’s fair.”

It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers. 

But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head. 

You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers. 

It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.

 The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi. 

The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.

When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.

“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.

“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”

And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy. 

“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”

“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”

Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”

You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more. 

“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”

He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully. 

“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”

Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.

“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”

“Hit me with one.” 

Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.

You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him. 

He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.

He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes -  as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.

It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen. 

Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”

Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.

Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”

“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”

Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”

[fruitpunchninja101]

Flowers For You

After a small spat at the merchants assembly, Levi was determined to avoid Hange and her flower shop at all costs. Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

Written for LeviHan Eggschange 2021 @levihanweek​

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Hello my dear giftee! I’m sorry if your gift took a while! I hope you'd enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. Keep safe!♥

“Every plant can do this fundamental process, and we call this Photosynthesis.”

Cheery voices of kids boomed in celebration as soon as they finished singing.

Ever since summer break started, the flower shop in front of his store started a “Horticulture Camp” for little kids. At first, He didn’t really pay much attention to the cacophony of loud cheers and noises but as days passed, customers would leave little comments like “Sure does sound like a daycare in there.” or “Your neighbor sounds like they're having a lot of fun in there huh?”

The thought about confronting the owner of the flower shop did cross his mind, but there's a little problem, they had a little bit of a spat at the shop keeps assembly last month.

Okay, he'll admit it, maybe It's not just a spat, It's more like a full blown passive aggressive squabble. His memory of the event was a little hazy but he recalled raising his concern about the dried leaves that keeps blowing over his store. Something about her nonchalance about his concern and something about his word choice led to a disastrous mistranslation of what he really wanted to say which somehow escalated to a kerfuffle. "You and Hange will be the hot topic of the whole merchants block for a good while." Erwin warned him after the assembly. Tch! He certainly didn't need that kind of attention.

Since then, Levi kept his distance from that damn flower shop and focused on minding his own business. He is determined to avoid this Hange at all costs! Unfortunately, The funny thing about trying to avoid someone is that you have to have a rough approximation of their daily routine. And so, his quest began.

#

Hange's schedule was never consistent.

Sometimes she'd open her shop so late that her students would start rough housing by the sidewalk waiting for her arrival. Their parents would wait by her store too and they were seemingly too charmed by her to get annoyed about her tardiness. By the time she gets there the kids would immediately run towards her climbing on her limbs but she never seemed to mind. Those kids eyes would shine so bright at her , he’s pretty sure he’d go blind if he kept on staring at them.

She never seemed to eat lunch for some reason. Sometimes, the son of the deli owner at the corner of their street, Moblit , would come by to bring her food. There was a time when he thought the guy was courting her but he can tell by that sad longing stare he gives at her when he leaves her shop that Hange had no fucking clue about his intentions.

She never brings an umbrella even when it rains. She just runs across the street donning a hoodie. Which she would continue to wear all throughout the day. She’d definitely get sick if she doesn't dry herself up properly. If the rain is still pouring by the time she closes up her store, Hange would spend a good minute to stare at the night sky marveling at the little droplets like its the first time she ever saw one in her life. Nights like that , he would close up a little late to make sure she's gone before he leaves.

Observing her became a routine at this point.

During warm sunny days, she would wear a brightly colored shirt underneath her overalls. Unfortunately, the shirt seemed to be the only thing she changes regularly. He can tell it's the same overalls because it still has all the stains in the same place as the day before. Her best record was 5 days without washing the damned thing and he can't tell if that's impressive or disgusting.

When the kids aren't around, Hange would dote on her plants until late hours of the day. He'd watch her methodically arrange flowers and pour all her love and care to every bouquet she makes. All the while ignoring the fact that she haven't had food at all. ( He knows because Moblit recently got a girlfriend and since then , he only drops by the flower shop to pick up orders for his new love interest.) All he ever see her consume are cups of coffee and not even the good stuff. Just the regular instant kind from the grocery. Days like that , he hopes that she would at least stop by a convenience store to pick up something to eat.

It didn't take too long for him to consider that maybe Hange isn't an asshole at all.She's just one of those people who gets easily preoccupied with things that pique her interest is all. To hell with her health, appearance or even basic cleanliness. Its frustrating but at the same time its a relief to know that underneath all that nuttiness is a seemingly good person.

He was just closing up shop one night when he noticed her still sitting in her store as she practiced playing the Photosynthesis song on her guitar.She was surrounded by an array of beautiful flowers and in that dim light, he could've sworn she looked like a scruffy forest diety.

And it was at that point when he realized that a smile is creeping up his lip. What the fuck was that about?

As if hearing his thoughts, Hange's head perked up from her guitar and turned towards him. He froze as soon as their eyes met. She gave him a tight lipped smile and at that, Panic shot through him. He immediately turned away from her and rushed to turn off the lights and closed his store.

#

Days after that encounter, Levi had to resist the urge to spare even a peek over her shop. he didn't like that sometimes his mind would wander to images of her that night. He probably overdid his little investigation is all! He had to stop watching her schedule anyway , he had all the information he needs at this point.

However, her presence never seemed to leave him. He'd still overhear the rhythm of her guitar and the rambunctious laughter from her little campers. Even Eld and Gunther are starting to warm up to it. "There's something about the sound of children having fun that puts me at ease." He heard Eld reason out to Gunther the other day. Even Oluo who once mentioned his irritation with the constant singing is starting to absentmindedly hum the damn song.

He's ready to let the whole thing go but when a loud crashing sound (which is probably another pot broken by a child.) caused Petra to make a small uneven line on her work , he knew he had to do something. Even if these type of mistakes are easily fixed, precision is utterly important in his business and he can't have random nuisances ruining his reputation. He'll do it tomorrow. NO! He'll do it tonight! There's no use to delay the inevitable.

Odd enough, he did wonder if she even knew his name.

Tch.

#

Levi was just closing up his shop that night when he heard someone open the door. Accepting late night jobs Isnt new to him but he did commit to speaking with Hange about his concerns so he let out an absent minded “We're closed” warning before realizing who entered his shop.

It’s her.

She wore an oversized green overalls paired with battered up chucks that he bet was once white. Her brown mop of hair was tied messily up on her head. He didn’t miss the huge ass bouquet tucked in her arm as she struggled to get through his door.

“A little help?” She said, as if they didn’t had a spat that literally had them screaming at each other infront of other people. Levi paused cleaning his tattoo gun and hurried to help her. ”What are you doing here at this hour?” He asked genuinely out of curiosity than irritation.

”I just wanna give you these.” She beamed as she let go of the huge bunch for him to carry inside. “The kids got a little carried away with their flower arrangements today and I’d feel awful if I have to throw it out.” She continued.

“You think dumping this monstrosity to me is the solution?” He asked, immediately regretting his word choice.

“Monstrosity?!”Hange placed her hand on her chest playfully feigning mortification and shock.

He rolled his eyes at her and was a bit surprised that Hange chuckled at him and leisurely walked past him to take a seat at one of the stools by his register and started innocently looking around his shop seemingly waiting on him for a conversation. "Neat place you got here." She said.

"Thanks?" He said genuinely confused what she's doing here. Although, He did wonder if it has something to do with that awkward encounter they had the other night. He really hoped she already forgot about that. “What are these for?” He asked as he opened the cupboards hopelessly trying to look for a vase somewhere in his shop.

“I was gonna ask you for a favor.” She replied.

He scoffed. “what makes you think I’d help you.”

“It’s for a good cause! Plus,I was thinking it’s your opportunity to make up with that whole assembly incident we had.”

He paused and glared daggers at her. She still have that goofy smile on her face. “That dumb assembly incident was not something I want to make up with.” He said stubbornly.

Hange rolled her eyes at him. “Oh please you were angry over a few dried pieces of leaves in front of my store it’s hardly even your business.”

“Your leaves are blowing over my store front so yes it was my business.”

“You know I run a flower shop right? These things happen. I cant just wait outside my store and catch all the falling leaves for your convenience.” Her voice slightly raised as if she’s explaining something so obvious to him. Of course he knows these things happen, he’s not an idiot. All he wants is for her to take responsibility and not be so nonchalant over it.

“You don’t even...” He closed his mouth. She's starting to get a rise from him and it made him queasy. It's not even worth it. He closed his eyes to calm himself.

“Look, the favor isn’t even for me.” She started. Her tone of aggressiveness gone. ”Just hear me out please?” Her voice sounded gentle and warm this time. She’s so hot and cold it’s starting to drive him insane.

He opened his eyes and was met with her brown orbs that shone bright behind her dirty glasses. “Go ahead.” He said defeatedly avoiding her pleading eyes and proceeded to turn back to his cupboard. He should just let her say her piece and move on.

“It’s for one of my campers actually.”

“Hn.Which one? the brunette kid that shouts a lot?”

“Oh you know Eren?”

“He always sticks his snotty face up on my window how can I forget.”

“Yeah, That kid adores you you know , he asked about you and what you guys do here a couple of times before. He even threw fits because he wanted to get a tattoo from you.”

He scoffed. ”How is that my problem?”

”You see, his little friend Armin loved the camp but is a little too shy for his own good. He won’t attend sessions without Eren who sort of refused to attend til you tattoo something on him.”

“So you want me to tattoo a child? ”He turned from his fruitless quest for a vase on his cupboard to raise a brow at her.

“Not a real one, just one of those temporary tattoo stickers.”

He scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. It would be easier to complain to her about the noise of she owed him some sort of favor. Right? "Alright." He said.

She surged out of her seat and gave out a small yelp startling him. "You'd do it? Really?" Her eyes seemed brighter now.

“Yeah sure." He said as he marveled at how expressive her eyes were. He willed himself to tear his eyes from her damn face. "Is there anything else?” He asked.

“Yes.” She replied enthusiastically.

“You are really pushing your luck here four eyes.”

She chuckled at that and pushed her glasses a bit higher up her nose. ”Don't worry, this one isn't a favor. More like a friendly advice."

He raised a brow at her. "What?"

"Put those in cold water. They'd last longer that way.” She said pointing at the bright colored bouquet at the table which certainly looked out of place against the black and gray interior of his shop.

After exchanging details about their little activity tomorrow, Hange gave him a final enthusiastic wave before taking off his shop leaving him in awe.

Ah. He forgot to mention his noise complaint.

#

The next day, nine little children were lined up orderly marching up infront of his store led by Hange. She carried a red flag to remind everyone where she is at all times. They all wore a silk screen printed shirt that says plants rule in front and some sort of a plant pun at the back.

Hange's shirt says. 'Someone has been adding soil to my garden. The plot thickens.'

Ah. That was pretty good...and also pretty dumb.

“Are you sure about this boss?” Oluo asked as he worked on a cover up on a customers shoulder.

"No." He answered earing a chuckle from Eld, Gunther and Petra at the back.

"Good Morning Underground Ink!" Hange enthusiastically cheered as she opened the door.

"Keep your voice down four eyes!"

“Oh! Sorry!" She mouthed at him before turning back to her campers. "Kids say good morning to Mr.Ackerman!” She beamed.

“Goodmorning Mister Ackerman!” The kids said in unison in a sing song tune. He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement then proceeded to cut out the temporary tattoo sheet into small pieces. The kids immediately scattered around the store to take a look at the reference books laid on his lounge. He glowered at Hange. "You said they'd behave."

"They would I promise! They're just a bit excited with our little expedition."

"If they break anything, I swear you're gonna pay ten times the price."

"Oh don't be such a grump!" She said slapping his arm. "Ouch! You didn't tell me you work out."

"Tch." He clenched his jaw and focused his eyes on the tattoo sheets he's cutting up. Damn four eyes and her mouth.

"Hey Kids! Gather over here Mr.Ackerman will show you how to put on a tattoo."

“Is this gonna hurt?” Eren innocently asked.

“Not if you’re brave.” He answered. The kid involuntarily recoiled at that. He can tell that Eren's starting to have second thoughts and struggled to put on a brave face. Eren immediately sought out Hange seemingly asking for help and at that, she immediately stepped up and ruffled the kids hair. ”I’ll get my tattoo done first.” Hange hopped on a chair and presented her wrist to Levi.

Levi held her hand to keep her arm steady. His eyes darted at her as if asking her if the touch was permitted and he was met with a sweet smile. He immediately avoided her eyes pushing down the thought of her playing her guitar surrounded by flowers...a scruffy forest diety. he recalled the exact words that formed on his mind that night.

He bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself to reality. Levi held the damp towel against her wrist and she let out a little yelp. He immediately pulled away hoping he didn't press too hard while his mind wandered to silly memories of her the other night. "Gotcha!" Hange teased chuckling at him. "Ass!" he said playfully throwing his towel at her face gaining another laugh from the brunette. The kids huddled around them giggled at them.

"Ms.Hange, What's an ass?" A little girl munching potato chips asked.

"It's another term for a donkey." A small timid blonde kid answered.

"Thats right Armin!Very good!" Hange said. The blonde kid blushed at her praise and glued his eyes on the floor.

"What's a donkey?" Potato chip girl asked again.

"It's like a little horse" Armin answered.

"Why are you calling Ms.Hange a donkey Mr.Ackerman? She doesn't even look like a horse" A kid with shaved head asked.

"...unlike Jean over here." Eren added and a kid with elvish features (which he assumed is Jean) stepped up and hit Eren by the arm. Eren was ready to retaliate when Hange spoke.

"Kids, we promised Mr.Ackerman no rough housing inside the store." Hange reminded them calmly and the kids immediately pulled away from one another.

There was a brief moment of silence and wondering gasps from children around them as he worked on Hange's tattoo.“So does anyone have a question to Mister Ackerman.” He immediately frowned. He said yes to tattooing kids not chatting them up. Nothing would have prepared him for the set of questions that came rushing in after Hange's open invite.

#

Eren is the last one to get his tattoo. He disinfected his arm with alcohol and his eyes drifted to Hange who was blushing at the sight of a kid adorably putting on a brave face.

Levi had to look away.

At the end of the session,all kids merrily walked back to her shop comparing all their little tattoos. Hange then thanked him for playing along with her little activity.

#

His whole afternoon was a blur. Between those kids who won't stop asking him and Hange's constant teasing smirks he was out of it. He scrubbed the side of his tattoo gun a little harder.

“I see you put my flowers in a bucket.”

Levi almost dropped his tattoo gun as Hange's merry voice boomed around the shop.

“Its the closest thing I have to a vase.” He said wondering if she’s offended that he chucked her precious flowers on a bucket, but that endearing smile she had on her face says otherwise.

“I had just the thing!” She rushed out of his shop and came back with a huge crystal vase.

“What's that?”

“Its a vase I inherited from my gram-gram.”

“I can see its a vase.”

“Well with the horticulture camp and all I'm scared this would get knocked over and you seem like an organized responsible sort of guy. Maybe you can take care of this for me for a while.”

She’s certainly getting a little too comfortable with favors now. ”What makes you think I wouldn’t knock it over to get back on you for that assembly mess.”

“Because you’re nicer than your letting on.” she says as she procured a small rose from her back pocket and gently tucked its stem behind his ear. He compelled his hand to swat her arm way but his body didn't cooperate. He stood there frozen wondering if she truly was some sort of a scruffy forest deity and she's punishing him from his insolence at that assembly.

Okay, that sounded dumb...What the hell is wrong with him?

"Did the kids asked you to give me this?" He forced himself to reply.

"Nah, That one is from me." She said. Her eyes were bright and her face were slightly flushed. He wondered if he'd never seen anyone look this gallant and handsome before.

"You don't like it?" She asked cocking her head to the side.

"No! I-ah...I'm just..." He stuttered trying to find the right words without sounding pathetic. His hand raised to touch the flower on his ear. He never got flowers before. He felt a smile coming up so he forced a frown.

“Why are you frowning? Don't tell me you're still upset about that assembly thing? I thought were past that?”

“Tch! No were not!” Levi recoiled at how loud his reply was.

”You see, I would be threatened but I just watched you spend your afternoon tattooing a bunch of kids even though you are not paid for it so...Yeah...I guess water under the bridge right?”

“Who says I'm not charging you? I thought you came here to pay up.” He smirked finding calm at her retort.

At that, Hanji laughed. She fucking laughed! The woman even clutched her arms around her stomach and doubled over. She practically radiated with warmth and a familiar sense of home. “Alright you got me, I don’t want to owe you anything so how about a cup of coffee sometime? Although, you seemed to prefer tea”

He scrunched his face. "How do you know I prefer tea?"

"You see, the funny thing about a huge glass storefront window is that, if you can see me, that means I can see you too."

”Wh-What are you on about? I don't...” Fuck! She knows. He internally panicked and wondered what would the appropriate response be.

"Oh calm down! Don't worry, I don't mind you ogling at me." She smirked evidently teasing him.

"Tch. Fuck you four eyes!"

"I wouldn't mind that too." He froze and It didn't take her too long to realize what she said. Her face immediately flushed in a very flattering shade of red. "I'm sorry I got carried away." Hange slightly turned away and tucked a little piece of her hair behind her ear.

He wanted to say something...flirty maybe? But chances are he's gonna run his mouth and say something about him thinking that she was a scruffy forest deity or how he hates that she never opens her store on time or how he knows her best record for not changing jumpsuits is 5 days. So he kept his mouth shut and let silence engulf them.

“Well, I’m next door just in case you wanna take me up for tea. I’ll see you around I guess.”

"Wait!" He called out.

Hange whipped her head to turn to him and he rushed behind the register to grab one of his spare umbrellas he keeps for emergencies. "Take this."

"What for?" She asked scratching the back of her head.

"You'd get sick running around in rain." he said plainly, hoping she didn't find him too creepy.

Levi didn't know it was possible but he swore her eyes shone a little brighter, a small smile is now etched on her face. "See you later Levi." She took one last glance at him lifting an arm to wave as she ran back to her store.

“Later, four eyes.” He whispered beneath his breath and although he felt pleasantly sunny inside, he sensed that he forgot about something...

Ah, he forgot to talk to her about his noise complaint.

[justasparkwritings]

Green Light

Previous: 

Pairing: Harry Styles X Ex Reader, Harry Styles X New Girlfriend

Genre: Angst

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol use, Mentions of Drug use, Past Infidelity 

Listen: Green Light by Lorde

For the #playlistficchallenge by @harrystylescherry 

           The lights flicker against her skin, dancing pinks and purples and blues giving way to green as the bass thumps through the speakers. The light up floor is causing an illusion against her body as she hastily searches for her peers. Eyes darting across the club, trying to find the couple of the hour, but getting lost in the sea of drunk people dancing to a b-rate Whitney Houston cover, she’s becoming frustrated. Why play Whitney if you’re not going to play the original? She wonders, moving through the perimeter towards what she assumes is the VIP area. Being correct, she waits patiently for one of the guests to notice her, waving her into the exclusive space.

           He notices her first, beaten converse and magenta tulle, she dressed to kill. Standing, he moves towards the bodyguard, pointing to her as the guard gave her a once-over. Nodding, pulling the rope back, she smiles at the stranger before deftly moving into the space.

           “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry says, hand on the small of her back, flush against the exposed skin, lips low to her ear, guiding her towards their friends.

           “You’re such a liar,” She replies, rolling her eyes. The neon eyeliner, drifting over her eyelids and near her brows is striking against the dim lights. The single rhinestones applied carefully to the inner corners of her eyes bounce the light off, shrouding her in a conflicting color story.

           “You made it!” Daisy yells, arms reaching to pull her into a hug. It’s tight and sweaty, a sign she’s either been dancing or snorting.

           “I told you I’d be here,” Her smile widens at her friend, “Congrats again on your engagement.”

           “Thank you!!! Now please, drink. We have bottle service until midnight,” Daisy hands her a champagne flute, which she happily tosses back before reaching for the vodka. “If you’re good, you can have a little of what I’m having.”

           “I better behave,” She responds, eyes clocking Harry talking to Daisy’s fiancé, Jack.

           “I thought he wasn’t coming,” Daisy’s gaze follows hers, eying the man. His wide trousers and cropped jacket give way to the tattoos covering his chest, swallows in constant conversation. Hair recently cut, he’s scruffy and wanting, his eyes not hesitating to check her out for the second time in two minutes.

           “Lies,” She scoffs, eyes rolling again at the sentiment.

           “I swear! Jack said he was out of town,” Daisy counters.

           “Clearly he’s not,” She looks at their other friends, nodding and smiling to the familiar faces. Their friends from uni, from work, a few from their neighborhood in Holmes Chapel have all gathered to raise a glass at Daisy and Jack’s inevitable engagement. It feels like the kind of New Year’s party Harry would’ve dragged her to, on the pretense that it would be fun to catch up. Knowing he would be right, she would’ve gone and enjoyed the company of the people who knew her before she was on his arm, the people who knew him when he worked all hours at the bakery. Tonight, their friendly smiles weren’t hitting the same, welcoming her into their embrace, no, they were darting between her and Harry, unsure where their allegiance should lie.

           “Rumor has it, he’s got a new girlfriend,” Daisy says.

           “Super,” She purses her lips, eyes moving to search for whoever his latest trophy was.

           “Don’t be like that,” Daisy shakes her head, disappointment oozing from every syllable.

           “Like what?” She snaps.

           “You’re so mad he’s with someone else, when -

           “I thought we were done talking about what happened between us?” She interrupts, frustration and anger coursing through her veins.

           “If you were over it, you’d stop looking at him like that,” Daisy holds her own, tone unwavering.

           “Fuck off.”

           Handing her a drink, Daisy levels with her, “Drink.”

           Tossing back whatever was in the glass, she waits impatiently for the liquor to take over, coursing through her veins and reducing her heat to a dull simmer.

           In the months after the breakup, she hadn’t seen or interacted with Harry. No cursory texts, no awkward pleasantries exchanged at a birthday party, or running into him at the grocery. She didn’t speak to him, and yet he was everywhere. His voice, his favorite sayings, his touch, his music, all of it spread across the city, taunting her. She had let him go, literally, but figuratively, metaphorically, he was everywhere. Seeping into her thoughts, burrowing into her mind, never able to escape him even in sleep. Tonight, he looked at her like he didn’t know her at all, like she was the villain in his story, not the other way around. Like he didn’t let his work get the best of them, ruining what they had in its wake.

           Somewhere between drinks four and five, Harry’s latest lover arrives. Scarily tall and equally skinny, silky brown locks and pouty lips, it’s clear she’s a model. Whether she was with anyone or not, the bouncer lets her into the VIP section without a second thought. She floats towards Harry, sinking gently onto his lap before whispering in his ear. He smiles at her as she places a hand on his scruff covered cheek and lowers her lips to his.

           From the dance floor, she stares, unable to stop watching him move on from her. How could it be so easy?

           Pulling her attention back to the floor, Daisy spins her, moving them out of sight from Harry. The lights beneath their feet give way to a soft glow about her, the colors bending against Daisy’s white jumpsuit. She’s grateful for her friend, her best friend, grateful for the distraction of alcohol and blow, grateful to be dancing and screaming the lyrics instead of sitting in the tub at home, crying into her room temperature bath water. But grateful and grieving often go together, and as her level of intoxication ebbs, the hurt of seeing Harry with someone knew, she retreats to the VIP section to gather herself.

           “You must be Y/N,” The model says, moving from her post next to Harry to her.

           “Um, yes?” She responds, eyes traveling up the woman’s legs, slowly making their way to her face.

           “I’m Arden, Harry’s girlfriend,” Arden smiles, blinding, and sits down. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

           “Can’t believe everything you hear,” She scoffs, grateful for the bottle of water Jack hands her before going to find Daisy amongst the neon.

           “Harry speaks quite highly of you, so does Jack,” Arden continues to smile, blissfully ignoring the contempt she’s displaying.  

           “You’ve met Jack before?” She asks.

           “Just Jack, never Daisy, she’s stunning, right?” Arden asks, laughing.

           “Yeah, completely,” She nods, eyes traveling to find Daisy, her beacon in the club. She’s been best friends with Daisy since diapers, their mother’s best friends, hoping and praying they’d each have daughters to carry on the legacy of their familial bond.

           “Harry tells me you’re in publishing,” Arden tries again to make conversation.

           “Correct,” She nods again.

           “That’s amazing, I love reading,” Arden offers.

           “Same.”

           “I have a lot of downtime at work, I’m a model. I just did the new Rodarte campaign, and Gucci,” Arden is trying her damnest to make this work, but her motives remain a mystery.

           “Congrats,” She snorts, unimpressed by the model’s recent credentials.

           “Thanks, I just want to say, I know you and Harry are at this weird point in your friendship, but I do hope you’ll work it out.” Arden is serious, glossy blue eyes resolute.

           “Did Harry tell you why we broke up?” She asks, eyeing Arden suspiciously.

           “A little, but I didn’t ask. It was before me so really, who cares?” Arden forces a giggle, baby blues trying to break through the tension.

           “Right,” She nods, a slight eyeroll giving way to her true feelings.

           “I just thought maybe you two could, mend your –

           “Hey,” Harry says, making his way towards the two of you.

           “Hi babe,” Arden seamlessly slips her arm around his waist, pulling him close to her.

           “What uh, what are you two talking about?” Harry asks, eyes accusatory as he again takes in your stunning appearance.

           “I was just saying that we’re going to Tahiti after I finish my campaign with Gucci. Relax, sit on the beach, drink Mai Tai’s, surf, or really, for me, learn,” Arden rambles on, her hair bouncing in animation, matching her words. Her deft swerve to the topic of vacation surprising, unsure why she needed to lie to Harry.

           “The beach?” she asks, looking at Harry. He nods, cursory.

           “Yeah,” He sips on his drink.

           “Huh,” She responds, eyes narrow. “Will you excuse me? It was nice meeting you Arden.”

           Slipping out of the VIP section and into the night air, she feels his presence behind her, chasing after her as she moves through the crowd and into the brisk summer air.

Not bothering to turn around, she asks, “Why are you following me?”

           “Why did you just disappear?” Harry demands, coming to stand next to her. His warmth radiating onto her skin.

           “You’re here with someone else,” She reminds him.

           “You haven’t responded to any of my –

           “Harry, you are here with someone else, the very someone else who if I’m not mistaken, is the reason for our demise,” She turns to stare at him, eyes boring into his.

           “I, she’s not,” Harry shakes his head.

           “Oh right, because I am the sole proprietor of our heartache and failed relationship,” Another eyeroll. Her mother used to tell her that if you roll your eyes too many times, they’ll get stuck up there. A fear she was clearly ignoring.

           “You’re not,” Harry scoffs, they’d had this fight before.

           “Why are you looking at me like I am?” She’s unwilling to back down, a trait Harry once loved about her.

           “I’m, I’m sorry alright?” Harry’s flustered speech gives way to a run of his hand through his curls. Resting his hands on his hips, he stares at her.

           “Sorry for what?” She asks again, words clipped.

           “Everything,” He shrugs.

           “That’s the least specific apology I have ever heard,” She deadpans. He wants to respond with some witty banter, some lighthearted sarcasm, some joke a year ago, five years ago, she would’ve laughed at. But they’re not the same people they were six months ago.

           “What do you want me to say?” Harry’s exasperated.

           “I want you to tell me how you really feel, because we broke up six months ago, and I still don’t understand why you ran to her, whoever she was, instead of fighting for me. Then tell me why our friends think I’m the viper, I’m the one who broke your heart. Why are you spreading rumors hoping they’ll bite me, when they just show how pathetic you’re behaving?” Her volume increases exponentially as she speaks, until she’s nearly yelling at him.

           “That’s not fair,” Harry states, eyes closing as he shakes his head.

           “I’m trying to let go, Harry. But you fucking have your tentacles in everything I do! You’re everywhere.”

           “It’s so easy for me? You are everywhere. Every new song I write, every role I consider taking, every project. I still fucking talk to you like you’ll hear me, everywhere I go is tainted by some memory of us.” Harry spits back.

           “Tell me why, Harry. Why are you going to Tahiti?” She questions, voice cutting through the cold air and going straight to Harry’s heart.

           “I like the beach,” He shrugs.

           “You are such a fucking liar! No, you don’t!” She yells, arms reaching towards the summer sky as she shakes her head at him.

           “Maybe I’m trying out new things,” Harry stares at her, “Maybe I’m trying to be –

           “What, different? Better? You cheat on me, after saying that you will always be in love with me, which surprise, you’re not!”

           “Not a cheater?” Harry’s momentarily confused, a slight diversion from the rant she’s begun.

           “Not in love anymore,” Her eyes are wide, confused by his lapse in memory, “You’re not in love with me anymore. You cheated on me, lied to our friends and now you’re here with little miss long legs.”

           “Don’t call her that,” Harry says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Arden,”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Harry runs a hand through his locks again, sighing in frustration.

           “No, you’re not. If you were, she wouldn’t be here with you. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fighting with me outside the club. If you were sorry, you’d –

           “I need your forgiveness! Alright, that’s why I’m out here.” Harry’s voice raises several decibels. He’s been holding onto this for months, long before she found out, long before he willingly broke her heart.

           She lets out a shaky breath, “What?”

           “I need you to forgive me, to accept my apology, to, give me the green light that it’s okay to be, not yours anymore,” Harry explains.

           “You cheated on me!” She yells, finger pointing directly above Harry’s heart. “I have honored you by not telling our friends for what? You don’t get to have or ask for my forgiveness, I’ve already given you too much. Forgiveness went out the window when you fucked someone else Harry! How dare you ask me to forgive you, absolve you, for a sin you willingly committed. You were in complete control of yourself and you still cheated on me. You want a green light? That was fucking it.”

          She pushes past him, stomping back into the club and onto the dance floor, into the arms of someone else, someone who isn’t scared to kiss her above the dazzling lights, someone whose bedroom she’ll wake up in, unsure where she is, not caring to leave a note before slipping out into the city. And hopefully, after a few more escapades, the embrace of the rising sun on her walk home won’t echo his voice anymore. The birds chirping won’t sing his songs, and the sting of telling Daisy the truth won’t ring out over overcooked eggs and overpriced mimosas.

          Harry had wanted her to give him the green light, but in refusing to do so, she watched the light change for herself.

Next: Talia

[expectingtofly]

dean/cas fic

~2k

also posted on ao3

How to Say I Love You with Socks

Another movie night in the Dean-Cave. Dean and Castiel took up their usual spaces on the couch, Dean on one end, Castiel on the other. Close, but not close enough. Dean didn’t know how to change that. He was just happy they were together and alive. Their lives had been chaos lately—rushing from hunt to hunt, Castiel running low on grace. This night was their first chance in weeks to take a breath.

Halfway through The Untouchables, though, Dean realized Castiel didn't look quite so relaxed. He had pulled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs.

“You alright, Cas?” he asked.

Frowning, Castiel pulled his eyes from the TV. “It seems that since my grace is diminished, I can’t regulate my body temperature as well.” A shiver hitched his shoulders.

“You’re cold,” Dean realized. Grabbing a blanket, he slid closer to drape it over Castiel’s shoulders. “Here.”

Contentment spread across Castiel’s face as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled at Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean realized his hand was still resting on Castiel’s back and he pulled it away. “Of course.” Tearing his eyes away from the sight Castiel made, cozy and warm, he retreated back to his side of the couch.

When the movie ended, Dean let the credits play, not wanting to hasten the inevitable moment when they both got up and went to their separate rooms. In the black screen he could see their reflections, two shapes on either side of the couch, wide distance between them. There was always so much space between them, but he was too hesitant to close it, afraid he'd cross a line, ruin a friendship, a happy night.

Sighing, he turned off the TV and the room went silent. They headed back to the hallway where the doors to their bedrooms stood.

“Goodnight,” Castiel said when they reached Dean’s door. He started to walk away, still holding the blanket around himself, and Dean realized Castiel's feet were bare.

“Wait a moment,” he said. Going into his room, he rummaged through his dresser. “Take these,” he said, returning to where Castiel stood in the doorway and handing him a pair of his warmest socks, thick wool. “Put them on.”

Dutifully, Castiel did so. “They're very warm," he said with a happy sigh, looking down at his socked feet.

“Keep them,” Dean said. They stood there for a moment longer in the doorway, until Dean stepped back. "Well, goodnight," he said, wishing he knew how to put into words what he really wanted to say.

“Goodnight.”

Maybe it was Castiel's content sigh that Dean was thinking of when he was running errands the next day. Maybe he was thinking of the words he hadn't been able to say last night or any night. Maybe that’s why when he saw a pair of fuzzy socks, he decided to buy them.  

He felt sheepish putting the socks on the cashier conveyor belt. “They’re for my niece,” he lied when the cashier picked them up to scan them, feeling like he, a grown man, should have an appropriate excuse for buying yellow socks covered in tiny bees. The cashier only gave him a glance, seemingly not interested in the slightest.

He felt even more embarrassed when he found Castiel in the map room back at the bunker and gave him the socks. But Castiel's reaction was worth it.

“I love them,” Castiel breathed, taking them from Dean. Quickly, he pulled off Dean’s wool socks and pulled on the new ones. Dean had to smile at the way he wiggled his toes in the yellow socks and smiled up at him.

An urge filled him to bend down and press a kiss to Castiel’s lips, but instead he contented himself with patting Castiel on the shoulder. "You're welcome."

There had always been something unspoken between him and Castiel. Something unbreakable tying them together over the years as they grew closer and grew apart, fought and found their way back to each other. Castiel had once called it their “profound bond," but Dean didn't know what that meant in practical terms. He had tried calling Castiel a friend, had tried calling him a brother. Neither of those words seemed enough.

The next time Dean saw a pair of fuzzy socks, he bought them… and the time after that, and the time after that, and so on. He created a whole family of aunts and nieces and a mother and cousins with which to explain his purchases to cashiers. Castiel soon had a whole drawer designated for socks. Striped socks, polka dotted socks, fluffy socks, fuzzy socks, red socks, blue socks.

Buying them for Castiel seemed such a small gesture, but they always made Castiel smile. Maybe it wasn’t so small after all.

And maybe Castiel understood what Dean meant when he gave him a new pair of socks. Because one night when their movie ended and they made their way back to their rooms, Castiel paused in the hallway. “Can I… Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Dean forgot how to speak for a moment, nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course,” he managed.

They didn’t speak as they lay down and pulled up the covers. His heart pounding, Dean turned off the lamp on his nightstand and settled down. He could feel Castiel's arm against his, felt Castiel shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“A little,” Castiel admitted and shifted, his socked foot brushing Dean’s foot, soft cotton.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dean wrapped his arm around him. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” Castiel said, sliding closer to Dean. “Much better.”

They began sleeping next to each other every night, moving closer and closer until they lay in each other’s arms. After years of yearning looks, they had progressed to something more tangible, though Dean didn’t know what to call this new development. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to voice it, tried to give it a name. Castiel still shivered when he walked through the bunker. Dean bought him more socks.

Socks made of wool and cotton, socks that shed, socks that soon became threadbare around the heel, socks stained with blood after hunts.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said after one such hunt where they discovered a vampire nest. He dropped his hand from where he’d held it over Dean’s arm. The gash from Dean’s elbow to wrist had stitched itself together slowly, the angry, red scar fading somewhat, though it still stung fiercely. “I wish I could do more.”

“You did more than enough,” Dean said, taking his hand as Castiel pulled him to his feet. His chest still felt tight, his hands shaky from the close call. Castiel had used his depleting grace to take down two vampires going after Sam, and Dean saw the exhaustion in his eyes, thought they must mirror his own.

Sam walked through the barn, counting how many vampires they had killed. “You guys good?” he called. When Dean nodded, he stepped outside the barn, out of view. Dean realized he was still holding Castiel's hand, slick with blood.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked, looking back at Castiel. Castiel nodded and a smudge of blood on his chin drew Dean’s eyes. Hesitantly, Dean wiped at it with his thumb. Then he let his hand stay there, cupping Castiel’s face, his eyes trailing over the soft lines of Castiel’s mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel said quietly, and Dean realized he was holding his breath. Before he could lose his courage, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Castiel's, a feather-light touch. The tightness in his chest unfurled when Castiel lifted a hand to his face and pressed their mouths closer together, soft but insistent.

“We should’ve done that years ago," Castiel whispered when slowly they broke apart and met each other's eyes.

Dean let out a shaky breath. "Yes, we should've."

Sam called for them to hurry up and, still breathless, Dean let go of Castiel's hand. Castiel looked down at his clothes, trench coat dirty and bloody. “These were new,” he complained, pulling up his pant leg to gesture to his socks—light blue dotted with stitched white clouds, now stained dark red.

Dean laughed, his head light. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

Socks Castiel wore on movie nights, socks Castiel tried to get Dean to wear, socks Castiel picked out, pointing to different ones in the store and Dean placing them in the cart. Holiday themed socks, movie themed socks, socks with tiny animals, socks with garish, gaudy colors that Dean pretended to hate. Castiel didn't shiver anymore. Dean kept buying him socks.

“How much of our budget is going towards socks?” Sam asked them when they returned from the grocery store with yet another pair. (Had Dean realized before now that grocery stores sold socks? No, but it seemed he was now a magnet for them.)

“Credit card fraud, Sam,” Dean said, restocking the fridge. “It’s other people’s money.”

“And these are special,” Castiel said, sitting down at the kitchen table to pull them on. “They’re ‘spa socks infused with lotion.’”

“Spa socks?” Sam asked, looking at Dean, not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

“Shut up,” Dean said. He was pretty sure Sam knew about him and Castiel—there was a particular look in his eyes when they came into the kitchen together in the mornings, when they left for long rides in Baby. He didn't mind that Sam knew, but he didn’t want to speak of it yet; this blossoming offshoot of the bond between him and Castiel still felt so new, so light. He was almost afraid it would collapse like a pyramid of cards if he spoke too loudly, tried to define it. He told himself he was just happy it existed.

Mismatched socks, blue and green stripes on Castiel’s left foot and corgis on his right, as he and Dean walked through a Walmart. Castiel refused to throw out any socks, even when he lost one to the dryer, or wherever socks disappeared to—hence the mismatched pairs. Or maybe he mismatched them on purpose; maybe he hadn’t figured out adult humans always match their socks. Either way, Dean never mentioned it because it was, he had to admit, a pretty adorable habit.

He was looking down the store aisles, trying to figure out where the toilet paper was, when Castiel said, “Wait, look!” and veered off to the left.

“What?—oh.” Dean caught sight of the rack of socks Castiel was headed towards. “Cas, you have an obsession.”

“That is completely your fault.” Castiel stopped in front of the rack and scanned the footwear.

Dean was about to point out a pair— actually, Cas might already own those, he thought—when Castiel inhaled sharply. “Look at these.”

Dean turned to see what he was pointing at. Slippers. Large, plushy, yellow and black striped slippers with eyes and antennas to show that they were bees. Bee slippers.

They were atrocious.

Castiel reached out and squeezed one of the slippers in his hands. “There’s two pairs, we can match.”

The smile he turned on Dean was teasing, to show he wasn’t expecting Dean to say yes. Which was smart, because Dean was not going to say yes.

But then Castiel added, “That is something couples do, isn’t it? Match with each other?” and Dean’s heart skipped a beat.

Castiel had called them a couple. Had spoken of them, together. Dean hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to hear them, their relationship, acknowledged. And suddenly, when spoken aloud, this blossoming thing, this growing relationship between them, didn't seem so tenuous, in danger of collapse. It felt weightier, like it was built to last.

Castiel dropped his hand from the slippers, and Dean knew a few years ago he would’ve told Castiel that only nauseatingly cute, annoying couples wore matching slippers. Now he knew what he really wanted to say, knew exactly what to call the bond between them.

He pulled the slippers off the rack. “Yes, they do,” he said. “When they’re in love and want everyone to know it.”

"In love," Castiel repeated, blue eyes searching Dean's.

Dean smiled. "Yes."

A tiny part of him wanted to curl up in embarrassment when they brought the slippers to check out, but a greater part of him prompted him, instead, to lace his fingers with Castiel’s and kiss him on the forehead. Castiel smiled up at him. The bee slippers eyed him from the plastic shopping bag. The cashier said, “That’ll be $21.39.”

And when Dean and Castiel padded into the kitchen the next morning in their matching, beady-eyed, lopsided antenna slippers, Dean didn’t even mind the stifled laughter they were met with from Sam.

“You’re just jealous,” Dean said, threading his arm around Castiel’s waist and pulling him close. “They’re very comfortable.”

“And very warm,” Castiel added. He tapped his slippered foot against Dean’s, like the bees were kissing, and Sam pretended to gag. Smiling, Dean tapped Castiel's slipper back, then kissed him for real.

Tag List: @spnwaywardone @good-things-do-happen-dean @becky-srs @xojo @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @marvelnaturalock @letsjustdieeveryone

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future destiel fics :)

[unkownknowledge]

Since I have yet to receive any request, I'm just gonna post fanfiction/headcanons for my current team

The team: Kaeya, Tartaglia, Bennett, and Diluc.

-the team formed because Aether had to hurry to Liyue, but only him and Fischl were really strong enough and could leave monstadt, so they had Diluc(as a favor for the darkknight hero quest) train Bennet so he could join them(with the plan to have Aether and Fischl go ahead).

-Kaeya joined in to annoy Diluc, and Bennett was to excited to have a real knight on the team for Diluc to say no.

-Tartaglia joined in because he was on some business, but decided to mess around for a bit, one encounter later and Bennett got Tartaglia on the team by using his puppy dog eyes to convince him(noone can say not to that face)

-Diluc and Kaeya both know Tartaglia is a fatui harbinger, but it's better to just let him have his fun and go than try and fight him and die, so they don't object when Bennet brings him to the winery for recruitment.

-Tartaglia is leaving for Liyue soon anyway, might as well have Bennett go with a harbinger rather than by himself.

-Diluc is not at all happy with the team, but he's a man of his word and he already agreed to this so he can't back out now.

-Kaeya is nervous of Tartaglia at first, but after them both sharing one brain cell to annoy Diluc he's quite happy about the current arrangement.

-Tartaglia is extremely happy about having some fun slaying monsters, but if he can annoy the darkknight hero AND get some strong comrades as well? He is absolutely estatic!

-Bennett often has to hold back his tears of joy, he's so happy to be in an adventure team, and with knights aswell!

-Bennett constantly calls the team "Benny's round table" because he is convinced that Tartaglia is a knight(Kaeya and Diluc did this to keep him from doing anything stupid out of a desire to be a hero, ie taking on a fatui harbinger), and he already knows Diluc is the darkknight hero because Kaeya being a jerk to Diluc.

-"Bennett, why do you call us your 'round table'?" "Because your all knights!" "But I'm not-" *cut to Diluc kicking down Kaeya's door*

-Diluc is the dad of the group, and he's starting to rethink his disdain of alchohol.

-Kaeya need to be reminded that, no, a wine cocktail is NOT the same as a grape salad. Nor is a grape salad a good breakfast anyway!

-he constantly asks Jean for help.

-"how the HELL do you deal with Kaeya all day!?" *jean slides Diluc an address to a cafe* "ask them for 'Jean's three bean soup', you'll need it."

-Diluc has to stop Tartaglia from bumrushing every enemy they see.

-"Childe no!" "But big monster!" "CHILDE-"

-Diluc has to rescue him because Tartaglia usually rushes ruin guards when he is severely hurt.

-and he has to do all this while training Bennett!

-one day Diluc brings Venti to the back of his bar and gets on his knees, "lord Barbados please give me patience." "You mean strength, right?" "Depends on whether or not you give bail money as well."

-Kaeya isn't all bad though, and Tartaglia treats his comrades well, so they both pitch in to train Bennett.

-Kaeya teaches Bennett fast movement and schemes, and if they can get a horse you bet your ass the cavalry captain is training him to be a cavalry master!

-meanwhile Tartaglia teaches Bennett combat strategies and how to deal with longer ranged targets, also teaches him financing because Bennett needs to learn how to manage his money.

-does not help that all three can't help but spoil the boy.

-Diluc teaches Bennett how to use his vision, how to fight certain enemies, and anything else he has from his time as the darkknight hero.

-Diluc is the embodiment of 'if you can dodge a wrench you can dodge a ball, except for him it's: "if you can kill a Mitachurl you can kill a slime"

-many, many injuries are sustained until Kaeya points out that Bennett should be training to fight in a group.

-Bennett develops a crush on Diluc, it's inevitable. But I'll save those HCs for later.

-Kaeya and Diluc start showing signs of making up, but it takes a while.

-for now though, it's just a few small things here and there: Kaeya not insulting Diluc when he drinks grape juice, Diluc making Kaeya death afternoons and not purposely mess it up, Kaeya offering to help Diluc with his darkknight duties and Diluc not pushing him away.

-it will be a while, but their getting there.

-however: remember when I said Kaeya and Tartaglia share a brain cell?

-hoo boy.

-Diluc has to deal with Tartaglia's constant pranking, and thanks to Kaeya's scheming ability he can never see it coming.

-Diluc walks out a door? Bucket of water. Diluc goes to bed? Tartaglia uses his vision to make him wet himself. Diluc goes to the bathroom? Firecracker on the seat.

-Diluc cannot catch a break!

-despite being from different sides, Kaeya and Tartaglia become friends. Kaeya even learns his real name.

-might do some romantic HCs idk, but this is platonic.

-because they're friends, the pranks don't stop at Diluc: La Signora and Jean are about to feel the wrath of two tactical geniuses with the brains of 4 year olds.

-La Signiora's makeup gets replaced with the wrong colors and a mirror that shows it as right, so she ends up looking like a clown.

-Jean wakes up every day and has to deal with every wall in Monstadt graffitied on, and a Klee that has had four shots of espresso!

-Albedo likes it though, until he also has to deal with Klee.

-archons help them.

-and whatever is above them, please help scaramouche. He knows what he did to deserve this but, he's willing to repent if it saves him from this hell.

-as for Tartaglia and Bennett? Like brothers.

-Tartaglia has a soft spot for kids, and even though Bennett is sixteen he has the mind of a four year old.

-Tartaglia has considered adopting him.

-but Tartaglia also recognizes that Bennett wants to get stronger, and his brotherly love makes Tartaglia train Bennett until he DROPS.

-they spar all the time, Tartaglia even says they should stop when he beats Bennett, but Bennett keeps getting up and going at it again and again.

-Tartaglia might train Bennett till he drops, but Bennett keeps going until he is a bloody pulp, and then he gets up again.

-Tartaglia has never felt more pride in someone else before, he's going to cry!

-they're all one big happy adventure party.

[nervestatic]

SMPSTUCK AU / human session lands

you get a planet! you get a planet! all my bitches be getting planets. back at it again with my homestuck au, finally posting some mcfucking uhhhhhhh more information!!

check out the smpstuck au tag to find out more!

TECHNOBLADE / the land of frost and ruins rabbit consorts, derse dreamer

so! techno! breaking his land down into parts, i’ve given techno frost as a callback to SMP earth, and the kingdom of antarctica! he’s got a very cold world, with most of the structures covered in spires of ice. ruins was built to play off of the idea that minecraft is a post-apocalypse game, so techno’s land ended up being a world that used to be populated on the surface, but froze over. his consorts are rabbits who build warrens under the ice and populate the ruins! his land is very isolated and lonely, and requires a lot of solo grinding in order to get anywhere under the ice, which i thought would be fitting for his playstyle.

PHILZA / the land of ash and frogs frog consorts, prospit dreamer phil had half of his land decided for me- as the space player, it was always going to be the land of [x] and frogs. i chose ash for him as a middle ground between how i think of phil’s current hardcore world, which i mostly associate with the nether, and his hardcore series 2 world, which i mostly associated with the desert. i’m imagining a lot of big and empty space, with a near-constant downfall of ash reminiscent of the basalt deltas in the 1.16 nether, just. filled to the fucking brim with frogs. there are frogs everywhere. please god help this man

WILBUR SOOT / the land of rivers and pulse salmon consorts, derse dreamer i had a lot of fun designing wilbur’s land! i’ve always thought it was interesting when the lands interact more with the players, which is what pulse refers to. his land is covered in a network of rivers that glow from within, the water levels and light shifting and changing in time with wilbur’s pulse. when he gets emotional, his pulse changes, and his land changes to reflect that, which i thought would be really interesting with a rage player!

(also haha wilbur fucked a salmon)

NIKI / the land of flowers and slumber bird consorts, prospit dreamer niki’s land is actually based off of the wizard of oz! she’s associated fairly heavily with flowers, especially now that she and puffy have a flower shop, so her land is just covered in these great vast fields filled with flowers. but, like in the wizard of oz, it’s easy to fall asleep there- and stay asleep. niki, as a breath player, has an easier time navigating it than most, but for how pretty and charming it is, it’s probably one of the most dangerous lands on this list. her quest is about waking up the consorts to free them!

ERET / the land of glass and depth dolphin consorts, dual dreamer eret’s land is, for the most part, underwater! his house is on a little spire surrounded by ocean, similar to dirk’s house in the original comic. there are odd glass structures under the water, and there’s a lot of vibrant colors and life that he can just barely see from the surface. the only problem is that he’s got no way to get down there! his quest is about figuring out how to contact his consorts and how to navigate the world without, like, drowning.

TUBBO / the land of tunnels and hives bee consorts, prospit dreamer tubbo :D tubbo’s land is actually mostly hollow! it’s build like a giant beehive filled with smaller beehives. it’s fairly labyrinthine in nature, with lots of interconnected loops and twisting tunnels similar to how caves generate in minecraft, and he has to be careful not to accidentally wander into a hive and bother the consorts lest they get angry and try to sting them! he has the hardest time getting to his gates, because his house doesn’t spawn on the surface- it spawns inside the tunnels, meaning he has to find his way out before anything else.

TOMMY / the land of discs and shade crocodile consorts, derse dreamers tommy’s land was, of course, inspired by what started smp wars in the first place- the discs! also drawing from lohac and lowas in canon, it’s a relatively open world with lots of large flat surfaces- the discs! they form plains and cliffs that need to be climbed between, and can be quite precarious to walk on. it’s also relatively dark- there’s no natural light sources aside from tommy’s house, which stands out like a beacon compared to the rest of the land. his land is also where the scratch device is!

FUNDY / the land of chaos and circuits ??? consorts, dual dreamer SO. locac. fundy’s land takes on the appearance of a large circuitboard, stretching in rainbow colors as far as the eye can see. he has yet to find any actual consorts, but he’s also been a little busy dealing with RNG. similarly to his RNG difficulty in minecraft, fundy’s land has the inherent aspect of chaos built into it, randomizing the effects of every action he takes. his quest is... actually kind of vague and confusing, much like most of the things about locac. it does help him learn how the fabric of SBURB works, though, because locac is the only land that’s malleable in this way!

DREAM / the land of caves and fog spider consorts, derse dreamer the land of caves and fog was inspired by the manhunts! the entire surface of the planet is littered with cave openings- some of them are tiny, barely big enough to hide in, and others are huge and sprawl beneath the planet’s surce! the further into the caves you go, the less foggy it gets, but the spider consorts aren’t exactly friendly and you’re gaining visibility as you lose safety. i wanted dream’s land to call back to the way he just sort of... vanishes, bringing the literal aspect of fog to it.

GEORGE / the land of mirrors and bridges salamander consorts, prospit dreamer so i’ve already talked about george’s land a bit in my fic, which you can read here! lomab was intended to be a little bit ironic in nature- the witch of void, georgenotfound, surrounded by things that make him see himself. his quest, and ultimately his Choice, are all about balance- about acknowledging the lines between isolation and being perceived, and finding a good middle ground between those two things. the land itself is lots of chasms with bridges going over them- stone bridges, rope bridges, wooden bridges, you name it, and there’s thousands of mirrors in various sizes scattered across the surface.

SAPNAP / the land of flame and bone bat consorts, prospit dreamer sapnap’s land is, effectively, the nether! lots of fire, lots of giant fuckoff fossils that are big enough to use as the basis for consort cities! it’s fairly dangerous at first, until they manage to alchemize a fire extinguishing system to put sapnap out whenever he inevitably catches on fire again. i haven’t thought his quest out too much- i wanted his land to tie into his aspect (doom), so i thought it would be quite poetic to imply that once there were creatures who lived there, before the game, and now it’s just ruination.

BADBOYHALO / the land of blades and string mouse consorts, derse dreamer badboyhalo’s land is, effectively, a giant quilt. hundreds of thousands of strings woven together create a net overtop of what is, essentially, the void, strung up using massive blades that were inspired by his knife-throwing! the land is all about risk and reward- step wrong and the strings might cut, but cut the strings on purpose and you’ll change the landscape in a way that benefits you. it appeals to bad’s sense of caution, but forces him to take risks to complete his quest and get the rewards!

and that’s it! some human lands. i hope you enjoy this. if you have questions please god send me asks