#rated t/pg 13

[shannonsketches]

i mean they can censor the blood for an OoT remake and make it like… black. I mean it could have the same effect. However the game might just be E 10+ because modern nintendy is full of cowards

If the blood was the only issue I would agree. I'm pretty sure they just took the blood out entirely for the 3D version (except for the patterning on the deadhands maybe) and changed Gan's to green instead?

They usually go with blue or green to make it less gorey than red. Black might be too stark, and make the player think it's a shadow or something interactive.

I think modern Zelda games are already rated E10+ though, unfortunately, and that's pretty much as far as that can go.

[aparticularbandit]

Agatha Buys A Birthday Present

Summary: Cian’s birthday is coming up.  Agatha has a lot of ideas of what to get, but one thing in particular sticks out.

Agatha Harkness/The Ancient One Chapter Rating: T. Series Rating: M for adult themes, graphic sexual content, and nudity.

word count: 2164

She only saw it once, and she wasn’t supposed to see it at all.

Agatha hadn’t ever meant to go through Cian’s browser history – which, to be honest, she wasn’t really doing.  That sounds suspicious and creepy and like an invasion of privacy or like she was looking for something she shouldn’t be looking for when really she’d found a super cool recipe for something three days ago and forgot to print it out and was going through the history to try and find it – and she’d been on Cian’s laptop in the first place because hers had an infuriating sort of bug and needed to go through a lot of modification mumbo jumbo – they’d taken it to a shop to get cleaned up because she was attached to her laptop, although she’d needed to buy a new one a few months later anyway after it got knocked off of the bedside table a little too often to survive – which…really was her fault, she really shouldn’t have kept it on top of her bedside table; really she should put it in a drawer so that it can’t get knocked off, and she should have realized that after the first time she’d kicked it off during—

Point is Agatha hadn’t been looking for anything.  She’d been looking for that cake recipe. ��Because Cian’s birthday was coming up, and she knew better than to try a new cake recipe day of because knowing her, she’d just fuck the whole thing up the first time.  The first several times.  And this way, Cian could try whatever it was while she was experimenting (read as: not following the recipe, because that’s no fun) and then give her that wry little smile of theirs where they lift one corner of their lips (the right, it is always the right, and she always wants to kiss them there to see if it will make them lift it higher (and sometimes they do, but mostly they just kiss her right back, which is fine enough)) because she had definitely gotten something wrong (because she still couldn’t understand why she couldn’t modify a baking recipe the same way she could modify any other recipe; it should be just fine; no, Cian, she doesn’t want to just follow the recipe when she can make it better (don’t ask how she knows hers would be better if she doesn’t know what the original actually tastes like because she never made the original)).

And then she’d seen—

Well.

Here’s the thing.  Cian’s birthday was coming up.  And, sure, Agatha could think about a lot of other things she could get for them.  She had a ton of ideas.  Great ideas! But then she’d seen that there was some sort of shopping something or other in their browser history, and she thought, well, maybe whatever that was might be a good idea.  So she’d pulled it up, not really thinking any the wiser, not thinking that Cian could possibly be embarrassed by anything she might see there.  And then she’d seen—

Well.

She’d seen it.

Agatha looked at the outfit.  Blinked a couple of times.  Cocked her head to one side.  Considered that there was no reason Cian would be thinking of getting it for themselves.  Figured it was probably just. something they’d accidentally clicked on.  Yep.

And then she’d bookmarked the recipe because inevitably she was going to get really upset with it for not turning out the way she wanted and then rip it to shreds in her frustration and then need to print out another copy.  Cian told her to remember to bookmark it this time.  She could at least do that.

~

…okay, so maybe she saw it twice, but it wasn’t because she was looking for it either time.

It was that stupid recipe again.  Which Agatha had definitely chewed to pieces and swallowed half of, like a feral toddler.  To be fair, she’d only torn it up that way because Cian had given her a look which suggested she wouldn’t do it, and she wanted to prove them wrong, and it’s not like eating paper was really that bad for her.  It just tasted horrible.  (It did not help that the paper tasted better than what she’d done with the recipe.)

At least Cian hadn’t suggested she just follow the recipe this time.  That always made her more frustrated.  Now she just felt like she was disappointing them, and maybe she should just follow the recipe, and then she could. play around with it.  That would be.  That would be fine. If she has to.

It’s for Cian, the benefits would far outweigh her not having fun, and she could at least give them a cake that tastes good while she experiments with ways to make it better—

And then she’d seen it.

Again.

That link, hidden in the bottom of Cian’s favorites.

Well, not the very bottom, but pretty close. Like it had been there a really long time.

Again, she wasn’t looking for it.  She just couldn’t find the recipe.  Which should have been at the very top but wasn’t at the very top and then was actually at the very top but had a stupid name that was about something else entirely and not super cool cake recipe for Agatha’s modification fun and actually had nothing to do with recipe or cake or even birthday, all of which would have made infinitely more sense than—

…to be honest, she doesn’t remember the title anymore.  She’d know it if she saw it.  But she was a little too distracted seeing the outfit again. Not in Cian’s browser history, where she could wave it away, but saved in their favorites.  Like something they went to visit frequently.

And this time she did visit their browser history, just to check and see how often they visited that page, and—

Well.

Uh.

Well.

It wasn’t too bad.  It’s not like she saw anything wrong with it.  She was a little concerned that Cian had visited it so often and never brought it up with her or bought it for her or anything like that, but.  She could play along with all of it.  It wasn’t like they had anything to be ashamed of.  At least. Not in her opinion, anyway.

Besides, Agatha could keep a secret as well as they could.

Which was how she ended up ordering it for her.

For them.

Their birthday was coming up, after all.

~

Which is how Agatha ended up in the bedroom she and Cian shared, in a preppy school girl outfit – all navy purple base with yellow, green, and red plaid suit jacket (with gold buttons that are half aesthetic and half actual buttons) and short, short skirt that really should serve to show off her legs (she has very nice legs.  Equally nice as Cian’s, if she’s honest with herself, but when is Agatha ever honest with herself about how she looks), except they don’t really show off her legs because there are these thigh high white socks, white as the shirt under her suit jacket, that leave barely any skin exposed, just this thin little strip, which she doesn’t get, but if this is what Cian wants, then she’ll definitely supply, even down to the shiny Mary Jane shoes with the wedge heels, which she thinks are ugly, but it’s the outfit, and Agatha is going to make sure she looks as close to that picture as possible.  She even teased her hair into those frizzy sort of curls so that they tumble just so around her shoulders.

She did her best, anyway.

The cake sits, cooling, in the kitchen.  Decorated to perfection.  The batter had tasted okay, and in all of the experimenting, this was the recipe that Cian seemed to like the best that wasn’t the original.  Agatha still feels like she’s improved it.  And if she hasn’t, then the icing certainly has because she’s actually very good at making icing.  She’s got years of practice on that.  She’s perfected icing.  She’d have perfected cake, too, if she hadn’t decided to try a new recipe for Cian’s birthday every year, but, well, this is more fun.  For her, mostly, but she thinks Cian likes all of the different cakes.

(Cian probably thinks this is to keep from thinking about her own birthday, and that’s…potentially valid.  Agatha never starts on this cake baking frenzy until after that, after their anniversary.  It’s easier to think about their anniversary than to think about everything else that happened on that day, and as long as she thinks about that and then gets to baking cake immediately after, then she doesn’t have to deal with the unhappy feelings that are…well.  That. She can avoid things.  She’s good at avoiding upsetting emotions.)

Agatha hears Cian unlock the door, hears it click shut, and strikes her pose. All indifferent, half-leaning against the edge of the mattress but mostly standing, one leg crossed over the other, one arm crossed, other hand lifted so that she can pretend to examine her nails, to flick something out from under her thumbnail.  As Cian enters, she gives them a look of disdain and says, with feigned annoyance, Took you long enough.

Or, at least, she’d planned on saying that.

But it’s impossible to really say much of anything when she sees how Cian is looking at her.  How wide their mossy green eyes are.  How completely frozen they are, as though they’ve forgotten how to breathe.  They take half of a breath in, start to step forward, hesitate.  How.  They swallow once, their eyes roaming over her, as though they can’t settle, as though they can’t focus on anything, until they force themselves to try and meet her eyes.  How did you find that.

It isn’t even a question.  Cian doesn’t seem to have the strength to question – probably because their voice would crack if they allowed themselves that light lilt of tone to make a question. They meet Agatha’s eyes ever so briefly, but then their gaze moves again, slow, hungry.

It was in your history.  In your favorites. Agatha keeps the pose because she’s afraid – no, not afraid, never afraid – of what stance she would take if she let it down, if she let herself relax.  I was looking for the recipe and—

May I? Cian asks, cutting her off before she can finish, voice so suddenly deep.  Soft.  They aren’t even trying to meet her eyes anymore, but at least their gaze isn’t moving here and there and everywhere anymore.  It’s at least focused now.  It might be angled down, but Cian’s so much taller than her that—

Of…of course, dear, Agatha says, brow furrowing. This is for your birthday.  You don’t have to—

But then Cian is there – she doesn’t think she’s ever seen them move so fast in her entire life before, which is saying something, considering everything else they’ve done – brushing one finger along the line of her jaw, lifting her chin, gaze lingering on her lips as their thumb grips her skin.  As they hold her chin, their other hand skims the exposed skin of her thigh, and Agatha forces herself to stand perfectly still as their hand moves up to cradle her bare ass.  Cian’s eyes grow dark.  Where’s your—

Not wearing any.

Cian’s thumb brushes her left ass cheek slow, steady, tracing it with their thumb nail.  Oh, my beautiful, beautiful girl.  They let out a soft sigh.  You have been so good for me, and I’m so unprepared.

Unprepared? Agatha echoes, blinking twice.

Mmhm, Cian purrs.  They touch the tip of their nose to hers, run it up and down, breath hot on her lips as they speak, I need something bigger—  They squeeze her ass, nails digging into her flesh, and Agatha gasps.  —to fill you with, pet.

Big—bigger? Agatha echoes again, gaze flicking back up from Cian’s lips, eyes widening.

Cian just nods, brushing their nose along hers again.  Can you be a good girl and wait here for me?  They step back, remove their hands from her skin, and boop her nose.  I won’t take very long.

Agatha swallows.  What do you mean by bigger—

You’ll see.  That singular corner of Cian’s lips lifts in amusement.  Then their eyes grow dark, their voice firm.  Wait here.  Don’t move.  They start to step away, to move to their drawer of toys.  And don’t take that off, my love.

Agatha’s brow furrows again.  Of course not.  You get to take it off.  That’s your—  Then she sees Cian turn with the biggest strap she thinks she has ever seen, certainly not one they have ever used before.  Her eyes grow wide with unsuppressed longing.  Oh.

Cian shuts the door behind them with a nudge of their ass.  Who said anything about taking it off?  They glance up, meet Agatha’s eyes, but don’t smile.  Turn, pet, and don’t look back.

[distantdarlings]

TEETH TO BONE // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 1.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - You come to your best friend's dorm room after not being able to sleep. He makes a decision that changes your relationship forever. *Theo's POV* (Romance)

+ WARNINGS - Heavy kissing, a bit of petting, someone kisses w/o that person's permission

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Touch - Troye Sivan

---

The sheets in the morning always caught Theodore’s attention. In those early hours when the sun's warm shades had not yet overtaken the cool, the birds still refused to sing, and the residents of the castle hadn’t yet awoken. It was a rarity for him to wake up at this time naturally—it didn't always have the same effect. But when he opened his eyes to the milky hue that stained the floor and felt the luster within his sleep-filled eyes, an instant feeling of comfort washed over him. This was always quickly followed by an unnerving question of life itself and the reason for these comforting feelings, but before this came along, there was comfort. 

It was the folds in the sheets that traced over his legs and the imaginary body lying next to him; the soft dancing of eyelashes over cheeks; the supple pink of another’s lips--someone in particular, not just anyone; and coffee with just enough cream to where it matched an old pair of corduroy trousers. These were all things that made him feel equally as comfortable as that morning light. The lips, though, were an image that often flashed in his mind. As were the sheets and the unfairly long eyelashes and the corduroy trousers. Each day, Theo found himself aligning more things in his personal thoughts to that of someone like you. He might hope to consider you his love but would never truly do so for the looming sense of rejection that hung over him like a rain cloud.

The door in the corner creaked with a symphony of old wood and rusty nails. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but the sound was as nostalgic as the crackles within the records that he and you used to play, sitting on the floors of each other's bedrooms. Theo smiled gently at the memory, remembering the feel of the hardwood beneath your ankles and the looks in both of your eyes. If he wasn't crazy, he might have thought that this is where his heart first opened up to you. Where he first realized how badly he craved your touch instead of any of the girls or guys his mates eyed in town.

"Teddy," a whisper like crinkling parchment tickled the shell of his ears. Only you could call him that.

"Are you awake?"

Theo pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling the sheets tangle around his feet in a new position than they previously had. His eyes met that of a bedroom floor record player in an embrace with a cotton touch. You smiled, showing off the teeth that Theo found so endearing. You shifted a bit in the doorway, rubbing your bare thighs together in an attempt to gain some warmth. You were still wearing the shirt and the shorts that you’d been in the night before—the ones that made his stomach kiss his chest. 

He caught onto your sense of embarrassment and beckoned you over, your nightshirt a bit too big for you. The sleeves reached the tips of your fingers in a rather demeaning manner. You sauntered over before stepping into his bed, crossing your legs and placing your hands comfortably between each thigh. The shirt you wore was ill-fitting just as his but in a different way. The cotton material lay against your chest which didn't dare to touch. Your skin pulled tight over your bones and made a passionate embrace with the fabric as it hung off you in a rather languorous way that caught Theo’s attention rather quickly. The collar delicately caressed your exposed collarbones that cut like knives and burned like fire in the pit of Theo’s stomach.

"Alright, love?" Theo whispered, his voice cracking from the pressure of the morning. You looked down, a few strands of hair falling into your eyes. You didn't seem to notice.

"Couldn’t sleep, I reckon . . . ," you spoke just above a whisper, the tenor undertones in your voice making the hair on Theo’s arms stand up. Without thinking, the brunette swiftly swiped the hair out of your eyes with a single thumb, just barely brushing your skin with his own. His eyes found yours in a breathless escape, attempting to analyze what you were feeling. Theo could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he wondered if you could hear it as well. His hand fell limp at his side in an embarrassed fashion.

Your mouth opened as if to speak but closed once more. You seemed to be debating on whether or not to say what was dancing on the end of your tongue. Theo desperately wanted to hear what you had to say. He wanted to know if it was a negative or a positive that he had touched you in that way. 

"Teddy—" you began but Theo pressed his lips to yours before you could finish. It hadn't been something he’d thought about before doing. He just did it. His hands remained tightly pressed into his lap, not wanting to push himself onto you any further. He felt bad for doing this in the first place, he just needed to feel the person he'd known for so long in the way he desired. He expected you to push him away or run or something but by the time he realized those things could possibly happen, he knew that this kiss had been extended much too long to be a hormone-fueled act of blind passion. 

Your lips no longer remained dormant but moved against his. Yours cradled his bottom lip with a gentle touch—much too gentle for him. He pressed his hands to either side of your face, pulling himself onto his knees. You rested comfortably between his thighs, knees dug into the mattress, as your shoulders were against the headrest. He steadied you, feeling his fingers trace the lower part of your posture. Theo groaned breathlessly into your mouth, politely insinuating that he needed a breath. 

You slowly pulled away, your lips joined in a messy trail of spit that disconnected as you rested your forehead against his. Blue eyes met yours in a frenzied heat of repressed desire as dry throats held the hunger of fasting lovers. Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, eyes flickering down from his bewitching eyes to his swollen lips, painted with your love. 

"More."

It was a single whisper. Nothing too dramatic or emotional, just the hoarse beg of a starved man. You took Theo’s lips back onto your own, much more fervently than before, feeling his desperate breath against your cheeks. Theo’s hands fell to your hips, his fingers brushing the bare skin there. You winced into his mouth at the cold touch of his rings, your fingers tightening into his hair.

Theo pushed off from the headboard and gently laid you back on the bed. He hovered over you in a protective guard, shielding you from all other eyes in the outside world. His lips touched against your neck like a feather, only barely ghosting against your soft flesh. You knew that the man above was like a god and you worshiped him as such. Lips to skin, teeth to bone. The young god's hands held onto you like a lifeline, exhaling syllables packed with amour and white-hot lust in your ear. 

Theo’s hand slid delicately beneath your shirt, caressing the warm skin stretched over your ribs. You could feel his heart drumming through the rest of his body like a bomb ticking away. It teased you, daring you to take control. He wouldn't let you, though, you knew this well enough. The man in question slid down your body and pulled you by the back of your knees until your head was resting against the pillow. His knees lock you in place. You couldn't go anywhere even if you wanted to.

"Are you sure, love—" Theo whispered breathlessly.

"Merlin, Theo, yes," you spoke. You were surprised you even got the words out with the way your pulse was pounding in your ears. It knocked against your brain, imprinting a tattoo of lust within your skull.

If Theo died right now and the last thing he saw was you beneath him, pressing your lips against his undeserving flesh and tracing your fingers down every individual scar, freckle, and anomaly on his body, then he'd take it.

[idyllic-ghost]

title: Delicate pairing: idol!hoshi x non idol!reader genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers warnings: just two little goofs finally realizing they like each other, it takes them some time, not proofed synopsis: You've been friends since he could remember, and since that summer night last year it's been different - you can both feel it. So why is it so hard to just say it? wordcount: 2.3k taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz,

rating: PG 13

a/n: inspired by Delicate by Taylor Swift because i currently have it on repeat

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✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The rain is falling heavy as Soonyoung all but sprints up to the door of your apartment complex. A pair of dark sunglasses pushed up on his nose cover what his hoodie and cap can't, despite the fact that it's dark outside. It's late, but he knows that you're still up because he can see the light coming out of the window of your third-floor apartment.

Soon enough, he's shielded from the rain by the small roof that covers the entrance to your apartment. With shaky hands, he pushes the digits into the keypad; four-one-six-five has become his favorite number combination. A smile plays on his lips as the lock clicks open and lets him push the door open.

Your apartment doesn't have an elevator - and if that isn't enough of a giveaway that it's old, the smell in the stairway makes it even more clear - but Soonyoung doesn't even think about complaining as he jogs up the stairs to the third floor. He's just thinking about you, what you would look like when he finally got up the stairs, what you would say to him, and, more importantly, what he would say to you.

He takes a moment to catch his breath once he gets to the door to your apartment - silently thanking Jihoon for taking him to the gym so much, and the choreographer for working them to the bone until they knew each step perfectly. After he fixes his clothes - pulling at his jeans, fixing his jacket, and taking off his sunglasses - Soonyoung finally knocks on your door.

It takes a few seconds, and he can hear you shuffling around on the other side of the door. You slide open the cover to the peep hole, he can hear the little squeak it always makes, and he waves right at the hole. A soft laugh echoes from the other side of the door, pulling at Soonyoung's heartstrings. The latch comes out of it's place, the lock turns, and then you're there in front of him. You're a vision in one of his "stolen" t-shirts and the heart-print sleep shorts he gave you - a big grin is painted on your face, which is glowing from the skincare you had probably just gotten done with.

"Soonyoungie!" You throw your arms out to him, and he engulfs you in a big hug.

You don't care that he's wet from the rain, or that his "outside clothes" are touching your "inside clothes" right now - as you usually would. You can't think of the last time you had seen him, mostly because you don't want to think about the months you have spent without him. Soonyoung spins you around in the air as he gets inside your apartment, knocking over something on the table you keep in your hallway. But you couldn't care less about your things getting knocked over, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek before he sets you down.

"When did you get back?" you ask, your hands still on his shoulders and unable to fully let him go.

"An hour ago," he says.

"I just needed to see you," he wants to add, but stops himself. It isn't the right time. You invite him to take off his jacket and come inside. While he gets rid of his wet clothes, you pick out a few things of his that he had left from last time he was here. You don't have to tell him that you knew it would be good to leave a few things at your place, he already knows.

Once Soonyoung has changed, he goes into your bedroom where you're lying with your laptop in front of you. When you see him, a giddy smile appears on your smile and you immediately get up to prepare a spot next to you. He would never get tired of seeing your face light up as he walks into the room - for a moment, he can pretend like you're his.

As soon as you move the covers to reveal your comfortable mattress, Soonyoung practically jumps in next to you. You groan and complain - grumbling something about how he spends an awful amount of energy arguing that he's a tiger, when he acts like a kangaroo - but Soonyoung doesn't listen. Your computer almost gets knocked over as he snuggles closer to you.

"Hey, watch it!" You push your computer further into the bed with your foot.

Soonyoung doesn't heed your threatening warning, he doesn't even hear it. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, pressed up against your warm skin, and his arms are wrapped around your torso. Yes, this is home. He notes that you're still using the same scented lotion, but that your laundry detergent may be different. Maybe it's creepy to remember those things - but Soonyoung is clinging to each and every detail of you as if his life depended on it. Once your nagging stops, he finally gets to feel you hug him back. Your arms wrap around him, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, and Soonyoung finally feels complete.

He can't tell you this, but he's madly in love with you. Everyone else seems to realize but not you - or maybe you're just pretending to not to know. However, Soonyoung can't lie to himself no matter how much he tries. He's been in love with you since last summer - or at least that's when he realized his feelings. His friends told him that they could tell he's liked you for longer, but Soonyoung can't confirm that theory.

Either way, you can't know... is what he used to think. After that time last summer, where he had kissed you in a drunken game of truth or dare, he decided to keep his feels secret. It was only when he wasn't able to see you for months on end that he realized he can't keep it up. He missed your touch, your scent, your voice, your everything. Too many nights were spent complaining about not being able to see you, to the point where Jeonghan had almost called you to tell him of Soonyoung's feelings himself.

Now he's with you again, determined to confess... at some point. This situation was just too delicate.

"Do you want to watch a show with me?" you ask. "I already started it, but I'll catch you up on the details."

"Sure." Soonyoung didn't care what you two did together, as long as he got to be with you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You're sitting on your bed with your computer on your lap. The episode is at it's end, and you're planning on going to sleep right after it did - unless it ends on a cliffhanger, of course.

When the doorbell rings, you all but jump out of bed. It's late, and you aren't expecting anyone. You know better than to open the door to a stranger, let alone pay any attention to a late night door bell without anyone telling you they're coming over first. However, the annoyingly curious part of you forces you to make your way to the front door. You quickly slide away the cover to the peephole and lean in to look through it.

To your surprise, it's not a scary stranger standing on the other side of your door. It's your Soonyoung. A giddy feeling spreads through your chest as you watch him wave at you through the peephole. With hands shaking from excitement, you fumble with the latch before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

"Soonyoungie!" You hold your arms out to him, and you're quickly swept up in a big, wet hug.

Right, it's raining outside. He lifts you up off the ground and gets both of you inside the apartment. You hear him knock something over, but don't even look to where the noise came from. He was finally home - as of an hour, he tells you. He came to see you immediately, you can't help but think. You try not to think about the fact that you're wearing his shirt and the heart-print pajama shorts he gifted you for a joke. If you didn't think about them, maybe he wouldn't notice. The proud look in his eyes says otherwise.

You end up getting him new clothes before going back to your place on your bed. At this point, your heart is in your throat - pounding so hard that you're scared it's going to come jumping out if you speak. It was your friend's fault - the ones who dared Soonyoung to kiss you. If they had kept to themselves, if they hadn't mocked you by basically showing you what you would never have, then maybe it wouldn't have gotten so difficult to talk to him.

It only got worse when Soonyoung came back. You moved around, making space for him to lay next to you, and he came running to your side. You let out a groan as Soonyoung crashes into you, his body molding so perfectly against yours.

"You know, you talk a lot about being a tiger but you seriously act like a kangaroo." Your comment falls on deaf ears, and it's partially because your voice is so quiet seeing as Soonyoung is suffocating you with his weight.

At Soonyoung's dramatic movements, your laptop almost falls off the edge of the bed. You yelp and reach for it with your foot, seeing as the rest of your body was stuck thanks to the man beside you. His face was in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your sensitive skin. You don't press him harder against you, despite desperately wanting to. Instead, you shuffle around until you're somewhat free and pick up your laptop.

"Do you want to watch a show with me?" you ask. "I already started it, but I'll catch you up on the details."

"Sure," Soonyoung mumbled.

You're not sure if he actually heard you, but you put on the show anyway. Whenever the characters bring something up from a past episode, you mutter an explanation to Soonyoung - who only hums in response. His arms stay wrapped around your middle, although you wish that they wouldn't. Having him hold you like this almost makes you believe that he liked you back. He has been different ever since that summer evening, but you always brush it off as him feeling weird about kissing a close friend.

"Who's that?" Soonyoung pauses the episode to point at a character.

"Oh! That's my favorite character!" You tell him the character's name and the backstory that has been revealed so far.

Soonyoung's eyes stay on the screen, practically glued to the character. At first you think nothing of it but as you keep talking about him, Soonyoung holds you a little tighter. The actor is very attractive, no one can deny that, and so you may or may not start gushing about it.

"Hey," Soonyoung interrupts your rambling and finally looks up at you. "Why don't you talk about me like that?"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The words pour out of Soonyoung's mouth before he could process them, and he instantly regrets them. "Why don't you talk about me like that?" Who says that? But Soonyoung can't hide now. He can't look away from you when he's said something like that. He keeps his eyes on you, despite wanting nothing more than to look back at the stupid character on the stupid screen.

"What?" Your voice is laced with a suspectfull humor - as if you aren't sure if he's being sarcastic or not.

"I just..." He finally looks away. "It's nothing..."

"Tell me," you whine as you shake his shoulders. "You can't say that and then not explain yourself!"

A part of him wonders if you want him to say it so badly because you already know. Because you're in love with him too. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but Soonyoung is willing to take his chances.

"The way you keep complimenting this random guy..." He motions to the screen with a nonchalant flick of his hand. "It's like you don't even see that I'm laying right next to you."

"You want me to compliment you?"

"I want you to see me."

Soonyoung meets your gaze again. The playful smile on your lips falters as you see the serious look on his face. He's close to you, your lips are right there, and he can feel your breath fan his skin. When you don't respond, Soonyoung grows anxious. He looks back to the screen, ready to make a joke to relieve the tension, when you take his jaw in your hand and force him to face you again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your lips smash against his in a messy and passionate kiss, so unlike the shy and timid kiss he had given you that summer evening. This was coming from the cave in your chest, where your heart had been spinning threads of want and need for the past few months since then. You're not just his friend anymore, not after this. You couldn't bring yourself to. The pounding of your pulse was drowning out all noise - so when he pulled away and mumbled something to you, you couldn't hear a word. Your half-lidded eyes lingered on his lips, you could see them move but not a word processed in your brain. That was, until he smiled and his laugh made it through the mental barrier you had put up.

"Answer me."

"What?"

"What was that for?" he asked, probably for the umpteenth time.

"I just wanted to kiss you again," you admit without thinking.

"Good." He all but beams as his eyes glances at your lips, and shyly asks you, "Could you do it one more time?"

[atelierlili]

💚Fandoms United For Helene Relief💚

Recently, Hurricane Helene has devastated areas of Appalachia and in particular Asheville, North Carolina. It is the deadliest mainland hurricane in the US since Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Many have lost their homes, possessions, and are struggling for food and other basic necessities. 

The hurricane hit many areas that are historically impoverished, and the North Carolina State Climate office state that "the full extent of this event will take years to document – not to mention, to recover from."

Katniss Everdeen’s home, District 12, is set in Appalachia, and The Hunger Games movie was filmed in Asheville, NC, and so the Hunger Games fandom wanted to put together a charity event and invite our friends from other fandoms to join. You might have seen us before as Hunger Games and Friends for Helene Relief, but as tumblr has been cracking down on these lately, we were shadowbanned and terminated twice. Nevertheless, this is an effort that we find extremely important to address and have come back as Fandoms United for Helene Relief. Due to this, there have been a few changes such as an updated email and dates that have been pushed back. It’s also the reason that we’re posting this on one of our team member’s personal blogs.

Fandoms United for Helene Relief is a fanworks collection to raise money for local charities addressing the needs in Asheville, NC and other areas affected by Hurricane Helene. Fanfiction authors and fanartists from any fandom can volunteer to submit a new work to the collection. Fans who give to one of the approved charities can then email the event proof of the contribution and receive ALL of the fanwork submitted to the collection. 

Approved charities: Our focus is on local charities who have ties to the community, know their needs, and will stay for the long haul in these communities over the years as they rebuild. Our list of approved charities include organizations that help foster children, unhoused, seniors, animals, general relief, and more, for whatever cause is close to your heart. Information and links to their donation pages can be found on this google doc. 

Fanwork criteria: As mentioned before, the work needs to be new and not published on any other platform. We ask for a three-month period from the release of the collection until authors and artists post the work to another platform. Fanwork can be from any fandom, for any character or ship. All fanwork must be rated PG-13/T or lower. As organizers, we won’t be able to verify the ages of those donating for the collection and cannot risk sending explicit material to minors.

Timeline: We want all interested contributors to commit to the collection by November 2 by submitting this google form. Final works must be submitted to fuhrgames74[at]gmail.com by November 16. The organizers will then compile the collection and it will be released November 30. Those fans who would like access to the collection can email proof of contribution to fuhrgames74[at]gmail.com at any time up through December 30. Those who email prior to November 30 will have access on the day and those who email after release day will receive it as soon as possible once the proof of contribution is received. Fanfiction authors can then publish their work on other platforms February 23, 2025.

FOR MORE UPDATES AND INFORMATION PLEASE FOLLOW US AT @fandomsunited4hr !! I will be posting more info, which includes our featured artists and writers, there in the future.

Questions or comments can be sent here on our tumblr or emailed to fuhrgames74[at]gmail.com

Whether you write, donate, and/or reblog, we appreciate your support!

[dancingtotuyo]

Summer of '03

Joel Miller x Female Reader | A Woman Story

Rating: Pg- 13

Summary: The first time Joel sees you as the woman you've become.

Tags/Warnings: age gap (13ish years), baby sitter, consumption of alcohol, summer.

Notes: I'm calling this a bridge. A scene that happens in all the timelines and universes of my dear Woman Reader and Joel. Consider this the point of divergence. I wonder what happened with these two if the outbreak never happened? I suppose only time will tell... 😉

shoutout to @murder-wife and @guiltyasdave for beta reading! I love you both!

Words: 1412

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Joel isn’t sure why he came. The Randolf’s summer pool party is a block tradition, but Sarah is at camp this year. Meaning, he had every excuse in the book to get out of it but here he is, standing against the fence, beer in his hand, watching as the kids jump in and out endlessly as burgers and hot dogs sizzle on the grill and folks lay out in the sun. 

It’s not that he dislikes these events. Maybe he finds them to draw on a little too long until people get just a little too sloppy drunk, but Joel has mastered the art of excusing himself early. He’s only a two minute walk down the street anyway. It’s just that there are usually other ways he would rather spend his Saturdays. He has a couple neglected projects calling his name in the garage, yet he still finds himself here. For tradition's sake, maybe? It doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things he supposes.

Joel shoves his free hand in the pockets of his jeans, taking another sip of his beer. It’s hot outside as condensation drips from the bottle. He finishes it off, the label peeling off the bottle. His eyes scan back over the crowd. Most of the neighborhood is here and if they’re not, Joel expects to find them filing in soon. 

He’s doing a second scan over the crowd when he makes eye contact with you across the pool. You’re sitting with a group of friends perched on a couple of lounge chairs with wine coolers in hand. Joel tries to think back to the last time he saw you. It must’ve been last summer before you headed out for your Senior year of college, the last time Tommy got himself into a bind and needed bailing out. 

You wave to him, offering up a smile and he returns the gesture with a tip of his bottle before you’re pulled back into conversation with your friends. Joel can’t help but notice a slight change in you over the past couple of years. He supposes it’s the growth from teen to adult. You graduated this past spring. He remembers Sarah talking about it, how excited she was for you when you landed the ER job. 

Someone calls Joel’s name, pulling his attention away from you. 

You’re only pretending to listen as your friend Mandy rattles on about her recent hook up. Usually, you’d be interested in the details she’s providing, but Joel Miller has you distracted. You had hoped you would be past the silly crush at this point in your life, but your eyes track him relentlessly. Watching as he makes idle conversation with some of the dad’s on the block. You wonder how he’s wearing jeans in this heat. You don’t mind. They make his ass look good. 

You’re an adult with a job now continuing to harbor feelings from highschool seems silly, but there’s that little voice in your head now, the one that says you’re old enough now.. You’re an adult now. You’ve entered the workforce. You try to block out that voice. Joel Miller is not what you need, but you still want him. 

“Hey!” Mandy snaps her fingers in front of your face, pulling you back to the group. 

“Sorry, what did I miss?” You adjust your sunglasses, taking a sip of your drink as you make a concentrated effort to stay present with your friends. 

“Are you still hung up on the DILF?” Maryanne teases. 

“DILF? Where?” Whitney pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, looking over the flock of people. 

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as Mandy points him out. Whitney is less and subtle. “You grew up with THAT across the street?” 

“Will you be quiet? Someone is gonna hear you.” You swat at your friends. 

“I’m just saying, I understand the crush now.”

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore.” You lie through your teeth and you’re bad at it. 

Mandy rolls her eyes. “Yeah right.”

“He is very handsome,” Maryanne adds.

You finish off your drink. “Can we stop ogling him now? He’s gonna catch y’all.”

“Really? You’ve been doing it for years, we can’t for five minutes?” Mandy winks. 

“From the woman who told me she didn’t see it.”

“Hey! I’m older and wiser now,” Mandy says. 

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your eyes from wandering to the man of the hour. You really need to get over this crush. “I’m going to cool off.” You finish off your wine cooler, dropping your cover up before jumping into the pool before your friends can reply. 

Joel lost count of his drinks around number three or four. He’s pacing himself, but between the heat and the ease in which his drinks are going down, he’s feeling the easy buzz of the beer. He’s stayed longer than he ever intended to, but he’s okay with that. 

Joel wanders inside to use the bathroom. The AC feels nice on his sweat sheened skin. People gather in the kitchen, a couple walk through the house. There’s more people than he knows here. He’ll hand it to the Randolfs. They know how to throw a party.

He’s grateful to find the bathroom unoccupied, locking it behind him. He’s quick about his business, splashing cool water against his face and neck. It clears his mind some. He should head home soon. He’ll be grumpy if he doesn’t take some time to himself. 

He’s barely flipped the lock when the door flies open, you falling in with it. He’s almost hit by the door yet somehow manages to catch you as well. You’re a fit of loose giggles as his arms wrap around your torso, meeting the sun warmed skin exposed by your bikini. 

“Careful there, Sweetheart. You nearly took me out.” Joel can’t help the chuckle in his voice. He’s used to seeing you on the clock when you’re responsible for his child. This is a very different version of you, but he can’t help but find it endearing. 

“Sorry.” You manage to straighten up, but even through the boozy haze, Joel’s touch sears against your skin. Your cheeks warm over and it’s from much more than the sun. 

He smiles at you, helping you right yourself, but his hands stay against your back. Yours settle flat on his solid chest. “You get a little carried away?”

“Don’t tell my parents.” You barely manage to wink, making him laugh even harder. 

“My lips are sealed.” 

“Oh good,” You sigh in relief as if Joel just did you the biggest favor of your life and you’re not of legal drinking age. “You’re a good man, Joel.” You pat his chest. 

“Thank you.”

“Can you leave now?”

“Sure thing.” He smiles at you, ensuring you’re stable on your feet before he slips by you, his searing touch gone. 

The loss of his touch sobers your intoxicated body. You can’t help but watch him go, cotton t shirt stretching temptingly across his shoulders. Chills form on your sides, phantoms of his touch still teasing you. You watch the empty hall in front of you, replaying the moment in your head for longer than you’ll ever admit to anyone. 

Joel lets out a long shaky breath as he walks right out the front door, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. It’s a quick walk home, even with the buzz of the alcohol in his veins. On the walk home, he attempts to clear his mind of what happened, but he can still feel your soft skin under his hands. He can smell the sweet mixture of sunscreen and you like you’re still in his arms. 

When he makes it home, he still hasn’t flushed the sensations of you from his mind. The way you looked in that swimsuit, hugging you perfectly. He knows it’s wrong. It makes him a dirty old man. The more he tries, the more he thinks about it. The more he replays it in his mind. He has no right to think about you like this, to view you as desirable. 

Joel takes another deep breath, resting his head against the front door. You called him a good man, but a good man doesn’t fall into this trap: the babysitter, the girl next door. He repeats that to himself. Girl. You’re a girl, but his brain keeps reminding him that you are a woman now.  

Woman Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

@missladym1981 @jessthebaker @annieispunk @ashleyfilm @moel-jiller

@eloquentdreamer @lizzie-cakes @hiroikegawa

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Twelve

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG-13

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some vague injury details/broken bone mention. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.2k

A/N : The aftermath of the last chapter.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Twelve

You were woken by the door rattling at your back.

Someone was trying to get into your room.

If it hadn’t been for the pain in your arm and the fact that you’d slept on the floor, you might have been able to convince yourself that everything that had happened last night was just some fucked up nightmare.

But hadn’t been, it had happened. Billy had hurt you.

The door jostled again, this time accompanied by a voice desperately calling your name.

Karen.

You managed to move yourself away from the door but you didn’t have the strength to stand. You felt broken and devastated, and all you wanted to do was lay down on the cold floor and go back to sleep.

The door swung open and before you could even look up, she was on her knees beside you, assessing your injuries. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her so, instead, you stared at your dresser, steeling yourself for the I told you so that you were certain was coming. It was your fault and you both knew it; she’d tried to protect you, tried to keep you safe but you had to act like you knew better. 

And this was the result.

You were hurt and Billy - god, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he felt, knowing that he’d done this to you. Fortunately you were too upset to think about it.

It took a few seconds for you to realise she was talking, until she gripped your face and turned you to look at her.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said firmly.

When she got to her feet and offered you her hand, you tried to lift your injured arm without thinking. The pain had your eyes watering and, again, you found yourself wanting to just curl up and sleep until it all went away.

“Hey... hey, it’s okay, we’re going to get you taken care of, okay?” She said softly, moving to your other side so she could help you up with your uninjured arm. “You don’t have to be afraid, everything’s going to be alright.”

Once you were finally up, she helped you pull some loose sweatpants over your pyjama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt over your camisole. You stepped into your Uggs and Karen cautiously draped a jacket around your shoulders.

You were in a daze - you were in shock - as she slowly led you from your rooms and out into the penthouse. You breath caught and you faltered, taking in the destruction; there was broken furniture and shattered glass everywhere and Karen tried to usher you through it as quickly as possible.

“Where is he?” You dared to ask as you stepped into the elevator.

“He’s not here, you don’t have to worry.”

“Is he... okay? Is he safe?” As upset as you were, you were still worried about him. “I don’t - I don’t understand what happened. He was covered in blood...”

“Yours? Did he bite you?” The calm demeanour she’d been forcing threatened to break.

“No, I think it was someone else’s… or maybe his. He looked like he’d been attacked, I don’t -” you stopped as the elevator doors slid open, realising that you didn’t have permission to go out. Karen noticed your hesitation. “I’m not supposed to go out without permission.”

Some part of you knew that it was a ridiculous thing to care about given the state of your arm and after everything that had happened, but you followed rules, it was how you were raised. And, after the confusion of last night, you desperately wanted something stable and well-defined to cling to.

“You have permission,” Karen told you, “I’m here because Billy asked me to take you to a hospital.”

“You - you spoke to him?”

“About an hour ago. He wouldn’t tell me what happened or where he was, he just said you needed help,” she explained, ushering you out of the elevator and towards her car. “Curtis is out looking for him and Frank is going to help as soon as the sun sets.”

You fell silent as you got into the car, losing yourself in memories of the last couple of days, thinking about how he asked you to stay, and how he told you that he wanted to be yours. As much as you tried, you couldn’t understand how you’d gone from that to him hurting you.

At the hospital, Karen took care of everything and, when asked what had happened, you’d surprised her by telling the doctor that you’d fallen. He didn’t look entirely convinced but he didn’t push for the truth, instead focusing on dealing with your injuries. Your wrist was fractured as a result of a dislocation, the swelling all the worst for being left overnight. It was set before your forearm was put in a plaster cast, and you were given a prescription for some painkillers.

It took hours before you were finally able to leave.

When you returned to Karen’s car, there was a familiar face waiting for you.

“I told you he was dangerous,” Madani stated.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Karen asked, putting herself between you and the Homeland agent.

“Agent Madani, I’m with Homeland, Ms Page. I’ve been trying to keep your friend here safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Her employer.”

“Billy didn’t do this,” you said, almost managing to sound like you believed it. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“I left you alone and this is what happened,” Madani answered back. “Look, just say the word and I can bring him in for this, press charges and we can get a dangerous -”

“No,” you snapped, “I’m not doing that.”

“I get that you’re scared but I can get you out of New York, I can get you back to your parents and your fiance. They just want you home safe.”

“No. I’m not going back to them,” you told her, quickly stepping around Karen and heading for the passenger door. “Just leave me alone.”

You got into the car and pulled the door shut, watching as Karen and Madani spoke for a minute more. You didn’t try to listen in to what they were saying, you didn’t want to, but judging by the look on Karen’s face, she didn’t want to listen to Madani either, but she took the card that was handed to her and put it in her pocket.

She got in the car and pulled away, leaving Madani on the sidewalk.

Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, but you could tell there were things that needed to be said, questions that needed to be asked.

“You have a fiance?” Karen asked, keeping her eyes on the road and missing the way you bristled. “Does Billy know?”

“No. And he’s not my fiance, he’s just someone that my parents want me to marry.”

“Is that why you took this job? To get away from them?”

“They owe him money - more than they could ever pay back - and he decided that he’d take me as partial payment,” your voice threatened to break under the weight of finally saying it all out loud.

“And your parents agreed to that?” She asked in disbelief and anger.

“Yeah...”

“So you can’t go back home.” A statement, not a question. “Is that why you’re protecting Billy?” 

“No,” you answered without hesitation. “I’m not protecting him, I’m just... I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You care about him.”

“And he cares about me. At least... I thought he did,” you said, blinking back the tears that were desperate to fall now that the shock had well and truly worn off. “He asked me to stay here in New York with him after my contract ends. I think I...”

Karen didn’t press you to finish the thought, you were pretty sure she already knew. You loved him. You’d fallen in love with Billy Russo, with the man who’d hurt you and left you feeling devastated and betrayed. You remained silent for the rest of the drive.

You arrived back at the penthouse to find Lissa waiting for you, a file in her hands. She gave Karen a curt nod before turning her attention to you. There was a noticeable hesitation before she said anything, taking in the state of you, her gaze lingering on your broken arm.

“Mr Russo informed me that you would like to terminate your contract,” she finally spoke, offering you the paperwork in her hand. “He wanted me to extend his... regrets and he has generously decided to offer a severance package of fifty-thousand dollars.”

“What?” You stared at the file in her hand, refusing to take it.

It felt like someone had just pulled the floor out from under your feet, like you were falling with no idea of when you might hit the ground. Lissa started to speak again, explaining again that she believed you had decided to quit.

“No, I -”

“Maybe you should consider it,” Karen offered.

You shook your head. “No. I’m not quitting. If Mr Russo wants me gone, he needs to come back here and fire me himself.”

“I was under the impression that you and Mr Russo had already had this conversation, he was very explicit in his wishes that I help you with whatever you need in order to leave his service.” You could tell from her tone that Lissa didn’t like being caught in the middle and that her patience was running thin.

“Then Mr Russo must have misunderstood. You tell him that I’ll be here until he has the guts to come and face me.”

Lissa let slip an audible huff of annoyance, finally pulling back the file she’d been offering you.

“Fine, but I cannot promise that Mr Russo’s offer of severance will still be available to you at a later date.”

When you didn’t respond, Lissa brushed past you and got into the elevator.

The second she was gone, a sob clawed its way from your throat. Your whole life was falling apart around you and you felt helpless to stop it. Karen wrapped her arm around you, taking you back to your room and sitting on your sofa while you sobbed. You didn’t understand why any of this was happening, things had been so good, things had been amazing, and it had all fallen apart without rhyme or reason.

She told you that she’d be staying with you for a few days and, eventually, convinced you to go have a relaxing bath while she ordered some food for you both. You did as she asked, feeling too overwhelmed and emotionally drained to even think about objecting. The whole day had seemed like a blur, like some horrible nightmare that you just wanted to wake up from. 

Then, over Chinese food, she tried to distract you with small talk, and got very little in return. You blamed the painkillers the doctor had prescribed and told her you were just tired. After eating, all you wanted to do was go to bed but Karen wouldn’t let you, and it wasn’t until you heard someone out in the penthouse that you knew why.

She led Frank into your kitchen and your heart threatened to stop. You found that you could barely even look at him, remembering the last time that you’d seen him and all you’d learned about him since the night of the party.

“Look, I uh - well, I know last time we saw each other things got a little awkward,” he started, folding his arms as he leaned back against the counter, “but I gotta ask you some questions, try to figure out where Bill is.”

“You haven’t found him yet?” Frank shook his head and your stomach started to knot with worry. “I don’t know what to tell you, he left for work and then -”

“Work?” Frank repeated. “He told you he was goin’ to Anvil?”

“Yeah, I convinced him to try and fix things with you. Didn’t - didn’t you see him?” 

Frank shook his head again. “Did he say anythin’ else? Can you think of anywhere else he might’ve gone before...?”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t want to say it any more than you wanted to hear it. 

Before he attacked you. Before he lost control.

“No... I don’t know...” you answered, trying to think but you were so tired. “He was talking to someone the other night about finding Krista.

“And you told Karen he was hurt?”

“I don’t know.” Exhaustion and frustration filled your tone as you raised a hand to cover your face.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I know you’ve been through a lot and I wouldn’t be askin’ but I need your help and I think Bill means somethin’ to you, so maybe you know more than you think,” he said, his voice softening a little. “He’s like a brother to me, I just want to find him and make sure he’s okay.”

You lowered your hand and managed to nod, taking a breath and trying to organise your thoughts. 

“He was covered in blood. His shirt was ripped and he had scratches on his neck, like nails or claws...” you forced yourself to keep talking despite the lump forming in your throat. “I tried to talk to him and get him to calm down but - but it was like he wasn’t even in there...”

Your voice caught and, for a moment, you thought you might start crying again. But that was the last thing you wanted. You’d cried enough. Now you just wanted the pain and misery to be over and done with.

“What about the Homeland agent?” He asked, and you glanced at Karen. Of course she’d told him.

“She keeps turning up, asking me for information about Billy, about the women that worked here before me. She thinks that he killed them.” You looked at Frank, gaze unwavering. “He didn’t, did he?”

“I ain’t gonna lie to you and say Bill’s harmless, but he didn’t kill any of those girls,” he told you flatly, meeting your gaze and holding it, leaving you with no choice but to believe him. “And if I’d thought he’d do anythin’ like that to you, I never would’ve let him hire a new one.”

“Because you turned him,” you muttered, “because you feel responsible.”

“He tell you that?” He sounded surprised that you knew. “It ain’t ‘cause I feel responsible, it’s ‘cause I know what this’ll do to him. Bill ain’t as tough as he makes out. This is gonna break him. Once he realises what he’s done to you it’s gonna kill him.”

You fell silent, knowing that Frank was right, that all of this was going to hurt Billy just as much as it had hurt you. And, in a lot of ways, it was your fault. If you hadn’t kept pushing him, if you hadn’t kept telling him that he could control without understanding it, maybe this would never have happened.

“Promise you’ll find him?” You asked quietly, sniffling and fighting back tears. “I just wanted to help, I thought I could help -”

“I know, I know you did,” Frank tried to settle you. “I’m gonna find him, okay? And ‘til I do, Karen’s gonna stay here with you.”

Finally, Frank decided to leave and Karen relented, letting you return to your room and climb into bed. She found a quilt and set herself up on your sofa and, as much as you hated her seeing you so broken and defeated, you were glad that you weren’t alone. Hiding under the covers, you pulled Bill the Beagle and William the Bear towards you and fell into a restless sleep.

The next day Karen insisted that you went out for breakfast with her. And breakfast turned into walking around New York and a trip to Times Square. At any other time you would have been amazed by the sight but you couldn’t manage to muster much excitement, even though Karen was doing everything she could to try and cheer you up.

She kept you out all day and, when you arrived back at the penthouse, it was like nothing had happened. Someone had been in and cleaned everything and had replaced all of the furniture that had been broken.

But there was still no sign of Billy.

Karen ordered pizza and, not long after you’d finished, Frank turned up. He had no news about Billy and no more questions to ask you, so you excused yourself and went to your room to read.

The next few days were more of the same. Your heart stopped every time Karen got a call or a message, hoping that it would be news about Billy. You were still hurting, you still felt betrayed and angry, but you were worried too, and all you could think about was what Frank had told you, about how devastated Billy was going to be when he realised how much he’d hurt you.

And, every night, despite Karen’s discouragement, you drew blood and left it in the fridge, on the off-chance that he came home.

On the fourth day, Karen decided to change tact, taking you out to dinner and then taking you to a bar to hang out with Foggy and Matt.

Foggy welcomed you with a friendly hug before pulling back and taking a good look at your arm.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head and offered a shrug, “I fell. It’s alright though, it doesn’t really hurt anymore.” The lie came easier this time and Karen seemed to notice

“Well, I was going to say we could play some pool, but -” Foggy started.

“You and Karen can play,” Matt interrupted, “we’ll watch.”

You didn’t want to argue and, by that point, you were tired of Karen watching over you like a hawk, expecting you to break down at the slightest thing. Matt took your arm and you led him to a table near enough to the pool table that you could keep talking to Karen and Foggy while they played. 

Your eyes drifted around the bar - it wasn’t the sort of place you would have pictured Karen in, it was dirty, sort of a dive. Not that you had much experience of bars, in fact, you could count on one hand how many times you’d been into a bar. You wrapped your good hand around your beer and lifted it to your lips, grimacing at the hoppy taste.

“How’d you fall?” Matt asked casually, like he was talking about the weather and not a broken bone.

“I just tripped. I’m kind of clumsy,” you lied.

“Huh,” he hummed, “yeah, I’m always falling over my own feet too.”

“So, injuries aside, how have you been?” He asked, smiling. You were about to answer when you heard Foggy loudly complain about Karen sinking a ball. Matt laughed. “He’s always been a sore loser.”

“I’m not a sore loser, Karen’s cheating,” Foggy called from the pool table.

For a moment you managed to laugh but the feeling of levity was short-lived and you were soon sinking back in your chair, taking another slow sip of beer.

“Y’know,” Matt started again, “Karen’s a good friend to have if you’re ever in trouble, but I like to think me and Foggy are too.”

“Where are you going with this?” You asked cautiously.

“It’s just - and I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping - in my line of work, I meet a lot of people who’ve been hurt falling and I know that sometimes they need some help to make sure they don’t have any more falls.”

You put your beer down and were about to head to the bathroom to escape the awkwardness of the conversation when Matt gently grabbed your arm.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean anything by it,” he told you, “I just want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

“It’s not what you think,” you tried to explain.

“Karen called us for a night out to cheer you up, people have been looking for Russo all week, and you show up with a broken arm... it all paints a pretty clear picture.” He pulled his hand back from your arm. “But if you’re sure you don’t need help...”

“You know that people are looking for Billy?” You asked and Matt nodded. “It’s not - he’s not what you think.”

“I think that maybe he’s not what you think,” Matt offered in response, “and I think someone like him could be bad for a nice girl like you, could talk you into doing things you wouldn’t normally do...”

Your cheeks started to warm, trying to figure out just what he was implying. Did he know that you and Billy had been fooling around or -

No.

No. 

You didn’t even want to think of the possibility that Matt had somehow figured out you’d been wearing the toy at the party.

“Thank you,” you decided to say, trying to change the subject, “for being nice and trying to look out for me. I appreciate it but, really, I’m fine.”

Matt gave a nod and, for the time being at least, it seemed like that was that. You stayed quiet, watching Karen and Foggy play, occasionally explaining what had happened to Matt so he didn’t feel left out. And, as you sat, a thought started to worm its way into your mind.

“Hypothetically,” you said suddenly, “as a lawyer, do you know if it would be possible to get a restraining order against a federal agent?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, taking a moment to think about the question, obviously confused. 

“Well, I guess it depends,” he offered in response. “If they’re harassing you, then maybe. But if they’re working on a case, then no.”

“Oh.”

“... should I ask why?” 

For a few seconds you thought about everything, trying to decide what you could and couldn’t tell him - or if you could tell him anything at all. Then you let out a sigh.

“There’s this Homeland agent who keeps turning up and asking me questions about Billy,” you finally admitted. “She thinks he might have killed some people, but I know he didn’t.”

“How...” he paused for a moment, obviously trying to find a delicate way of wording it, “how can you be so sure?”

“Because one of them tried to bite me at his party.”

“What?” There was a spike in his voice and you couldn’t tell if it was shock or anger, but it was enough to put you on edge. “Is that why you vanished? Karen said you’d had too much to drink and went to bed.”

“A vampire tried to bite you?” Foggy chimed in, obviously overhearing the conversation.

You felt your cheeks start to heat as everyone’s attention turned to you.

“Start from the start,” Matt said, “tell us what happened.”

Letting out a sigh, you started to recount meeting Krista, and how Madani had approached you about Billy’s ‘missing’ former employees. Foggy and Karen grabbed chairs and sat down while you went over it all, explaining how out of control you’d felt when she’d spoken to you, how you’d almost willingly let her bite you.

“So she somehow got past Russo’s security to try to kill you?” Foggy asked, trying to put it all together.

“No, I don’t think she wanted to kill me. I think she wanted to turn me,” you tried to explain

“Wait, what?” Karen finally spoke up. “No one told me that part.”

“I - I didn’t mention it to Billy,” you admitted, and when Karen gave you a questioning look, you continued; “I think she knew that turning me would hurt Billy more than killing me. He hates being a vampire and he knows I don’t want to be turned...”

“I think the first thing we need to do is get you out of there,” Foggy stated, trying to be the voice of reason.

“No, I - I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave...”

“Foggy’s right, I know Russo pays a lot but it’s not worth risking your life over,” Matt joined in, “if it’s just the money -”

“It’s not just the money,” you told them, wanting to put an end to it. “I can’t leave him. I don’t want to.”

“Ah,” Foggy muttered, finally putting it together.

“I appreciate the help but, I just need this Homeland agent off my back while I figure out what’s going on,” you said with a shrug, as if it was really going to be that easy.

“Me and Foggy know a few people in the DA’s office, we could have an ask around and see if we can find anything out.” Matt offered before taking a slow drink. “But you’re sure Russo didn’t -”

“He didn’t hurt anyone.”

Karen gave you a look, not entirely happy that you were lying to her friends. But you weren’t thinking about yourself, about your arm, just Billy. Any hurt that you felt was between you and him.

Not long after, you told Karen you were feeling tired and wanted to go home, so you finished up your drinks and said goodbye to Matt and Foggy. On the slow walk back to Billy’s building, Karen got a call and, despite her deliberately hushed tone, you managed to catch the gist of what was being said.

Frank had found Billy.

When she finished the call, she didn’t say anything for a few seconds, obviously choosing her words very carefully before opening her mouth.

“Frank’s found him and he’s okay,” she started slowly, “he’s going to try to bring him back to the penthouse tomorrow night -”

“Tomorrow?” You interrupted, not even bothering to conceal your dismay. It had already been so long, now she was telling you that you had to wait another day before you could see him and try to figure things out.

“He needs a day to make sure Billy is alright, that he’s... safe to be around,” Karen explained before hesitating. “And he’s asked if you’ll stay out of the way...”

“What? No. Why?” Quickly becoming frustrated by the situation. “He needs to see me, he needs to see that I’m okay. You can’t just expect me to -”

“But you’re not okay,” Karen said, and you stopped in your tracks. “You’re not okay. Nothing about what happened to you was okay, and if Billy sees you like this...”

“It’s fine, I -” but you knew it wasn’t fine. Worse, you knew she was right. “I just - I want to see him. I need to know he’s alright,” your voice threatened to break. “It was my fault, I shouldn’t’ve -”

“No,” Karen said firmly. “None of this was your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself. I know that you care about him but that is not the way to protect him.”

She started walking again and you fell into step beside her. Soon enough you were back in the penthouse, crawling into bed, and trying not to think about Billy coming home. You played the conversation with Karen over and over in your mind, wondering if there was anything you could do to protect Billy, wondering if maybe you should have taken his offer to leave after all.

(What if you were just making everything worse?)

The next day passed so slowly, and Karen made obvious attempts to distract you; first taking you for breakfast, then taking you out to a little gallery in Brooklyn to look at some art. When you got home, you drew some blood and left it in the fridge with the rest of the blood that had been piling up over the last week.

As much as you wanted to stay out in the penthouse as evening gave way to night, you let Karen convince you to go to bed, reminding you what you’d agreed to.

But, ultimately, you found that you couldn’t do it.

The moment you heard the elevator, you were out of bed and rushing out to the penthouse, despite Karen calling after you, telling you to wait. You came to an abrupt stop when you saw them; Frank practically holding Billy up as he dragged him out of the elevator. The second Billy’s eyes found you, taking in the sight of you and your broken arm, you saw nothing but pain and shame. He tried to pull back, and tried to slink back into the elevator, trying to get away.

“Don’t even think about it,” Frank growled, pulling him, making sure he couldn’t run.

Billy let out a pained sound that had you taking a step forward, wanting to do nothing more than help, but you quickly faltered when you realised that there was nothing you could do. You were useless and, if anything, your presence had made everything worse, just like Karen had warned.

Blinking, you realised that there were tears in the corners of your eyes, ready to fall at the slightest provocation.

You wanted to go to him, to tell him that everything would be okay, that you’d forgiven him. But had you? Could you forgive him when you still didn’t even know what had happened?

Karen’s arm wrapped around you, both of you watching as Frank dragged Billy into his rooms and closed the door.

As if realising that there was no way you were going to go back to bed, Karen led you over to the sofa and you both sat in silence as the minutes ticked by. You struggled and strained, trying to hear what was going on and if Billy was okay, but no sound escaped his rooms.

Your heart leapt into your throat when the door finally opened and Frank stepped out.

“What the hell, Karen?” He asked, annoyed that you hadn’t done as you were asked.

“It wasn’t her fault. I - I needed to see him,” you told him, feeling your cheeks start to heat. “What’s wrong with him? Is he okay?”

The question seemed stupid - worse still, it made you feel stupid. Of course he wasn’t okay, you’d seen the way he’d looked at you, the way Frank was almost carrying him. Part of you almost hoped that Frank would lie, that he’d tell you everything was fine and that Billy was alright. 

“He’s had a rough few days,” Frank answered, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “I’m gonna stay here tonight, make sure he doesn’t decide to wander off again. You can talk to him tomorrow, if he’s feelin’ up to it.”

Your mouth opened, wanting to ask what you were supposed to do if he wasn’t feeling up to it, what you were supposed to do if he never wanted to speak to you again, but you didn’t. All you could do was nod and agree to Frank’s terms, knowing that arguing wouldn’t get you anywhere. 

“Why don’t you head back to bed?” Karen suggested. “I’ll get Frank some blankets and keep him company out here.”

As much as you didn’t want to go, in case Billy came out of his room, you felt awkward and in the way. So, again, you nodded before slowly getting up and heading back to bed, where you’d spend the night staring at the ceiling and worrying about Billy.

Chapter Thirteen

End Note : 😅😅😅😅 Sorry that there's no Billy in this one. I needed to give them time apart so they could both really suffer. Don't worry, next chapter I promise you'll all get the answers to some of the questions you've had about what's going on.

As always, thank you so much for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging. Your support and kind words mean the world to me! I hope you all have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

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@ashy-kit

[jedi-hawkins]

Flowers for the Doctor

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

@moonstrider9904 - Howzer

@eyecandyeoz - Waxer

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Kix x f!reader

Chosen Flower: St. John's Wort

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Notes: Medical terminology, pandemic, sickness and death, brief suggestive content, friends to lovers

Beta-read by @anxiouspineapple99

The helmet of your hazmat suit hisses as you release the seal. A deep sigh passes your lips as you step out of your suit and hang it on the rack for decontamination. When you open the door to the decontam stalls, the creak echoes around the tiled room. 

'Damn. All this and we can’t even get some WD-40 on the hinges?' You think to yourself before stripping down to your skivvies and stepping under one of the spouts. The doors from the infectious disease ward open again and a friendly face steps in. 

“Kix.” 

He smiles at you as he strips down to his briefs and steps under a spout. “Long day, Doc?”

You can’t even muster a reply as you close your eyes and hit the red button in front of you. For just a single moment, the rest of the hospital fades away with the roar of the sonic waves washing over you, and then it’s over. 

“That good, huh?” Kix notes your response, or lack thereof. 

You shake your head, trying to keep it together. “I’ve had better.” 

Kix holds the door to the locker room open for you as you step through. “At least you don’t have to wear the clone kit all day.” He says, tossing you a pair of clean blacks from the cabinet. “On the battlefield it’s great, but here I bump around like a pinball. I’m lucky if I can make it through the day without breaking anything.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of your mouth does twitch a little. “I don’t know.” You respond, “I’ve always thought I looked like a hutt in those hazmat suits, and the gloves are so annoying.” 

“Dinner?” Kix simply asks. 

“Please.”

He leads the way to the hospital cantina. You met Kix just a couple weeks ago, but the two of you had become fast friends. He was a clone medic, sent to your planet to help in one of the hundreds of makeshift ‘hospitals’ that had popped up in the wake of a pandemic. This particular hospital was housed in an academic campus, shut down because of the spreading illness. 

Normally, you were the second in command in the biggest hospital in the planet’s capital, but for the past month your days consisted of random converted buildings, biohazard suits, and patients you felt like you couldn’t do anything for. At the end of the day, you were thankful Kix had been stationed at your hospital. 

Though you two were usually preoccupied with your own patients throughout the day, the pair of you could usually be found together on your breaks. It felt like Kix truly saw you and your struggle. Sure, the hospital Medical Director was the top dog, calling the shots, but you were the one in the trenches of the Infectious Disease Ward every day. 

This pandemic was an enigma that you just couldn’t figure out. It should have just been the normal yearly wave of Wet Lung, easily managed by some general antibios, but those didn’t work. Then your Medical Director ordered you to move up to more aggressive drugs, so you did. Before you knew it, your patients were on IV drips of the most aggressive antibio cocktail you could think of. 

And they still weren’t getting better, in fact, they were getting worse. You’d already lost a number of patients to sepsis, blood poisoning, and the other hospitals across the planet were facing the same issues. As far as you knew, any person that had caught this mysterious strain of Wet Lung were either dead or dying and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You nearly bump into Kix when he stops to open the cantina door. 

“Coruscant to Doc, are you okay?” He asks, guiding you through the door with a hand on your lower back. 

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Yeah, Kix. Just a long shift, you know?”

He squeezes your shoulder before grabbing a tray and heading to the serving line. Even though the Republic had brought the war to your Planet a few months ago, you had to admit their support was needed for this pandemic. And nobody knows how to feed the masses quite like the GAR. 

Kix immediately starts eating when you two sit down, he told you about one of his brothers, Fives: 'If you didn’t eat quickly around him, he’d swipe the rest of your rations.'

You just can’t bring yourself to eat, instead you just chase a few peas around your tray. Of course, Kix notices. 

“Jahaal'got.” He says, using your nickname to grab your attention. “Come on. Talk. It wasn’t just a long day.”

You avoid his eyes, the words getting stuck in your throat. You’ve lost patients before, multiple in one day even, so why was today crushing you so badly?

Kix sets down his fork and reaches across the table to gently grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. “How many did you lose today?”

You take a deep breath, “Twelve, eight more deteriorating. I just… I don’t get it, Kix. What are we missing? The drugs aren’t working, they keep going septic before we can catch it, and those that haven’t progressed to sepsis are dying to the Wet Lung.” 

Kix stops your rambling by taking both your hands in his. “You remember what your nickname means, right?” 

You should be able to remember, but your mind has been so overworked, it doesn’t come to you. “I, uh… something about medicine?”

“Jahaal’got.” Kix repeats it. “It’s the mando term meaning 'good for health', because that’s what you are. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all you can do.” 

You nod, closing your eyes and rolling your head to try to release the tension in your shoulders. 

“You’re off tonight, right?” Kix asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “I picked up the night shift, I have to be here.” 

Kix scoffs at you. “Are you serious? What, you’re just going to sleep on the hospital floor forever?” 

“Not forever.” You protest. “Just until this blows over.” 

“This pandemic or the war?” 

You meet his eyes, and a knowing look passes between you. After meeting him, you had discussed sending in an application to become a civilian medic for the GAR. 

“Well, we have an hour before the night shift starts.” Kix says, standing up and taking your tray. “Why don’t we go for a walk and then try again at this ‘food’ thing before going back to work?”

Your brow furrows at his remark, “But you-”

“Will also be working the night shift, so it seems.” He cuts you off. He shifts both trays into one hand and holds his other out to help you out of your seat. 

Kix leads the way, dropping the trays in the wash basin on the way out of the cantina. Outside, the sun is beginning to set, painting the sky with shades of orange, pinks and purples. 

The two of you walk through the academic campus, chatting about nothing in particular. Kix asks you a few questions here and there about the buildings you all pass. Though it’s been a few years, you tell him what you remember about studying here. 

“It’s a shame all the students had to be sent home.” You remark as you step into the university greenhouses. 

Kix nods his agreement. “What is this place?” He asks, looking around. 

“The campus greenhouses, they're shared by a few departments.” You explain. “Biology, horticulture, environmental studies, and engineering to name a few.”

“I’m surprised everything is still alive, don’t plants take some maintenance?”

“Well, the greenhouse forms a pretty self-sustaining environment. I remember the medical students coming in here a couple times.”

Kix tilts his head at you. “What would medical students study in here?”

“Well,” you shrug, “There are quite a few medicinal plants native to this planet. Though they aren’t quite as effective as modern medicine, they can still be used for daily management or as an additional treatment.” 

The two of you weave through the greenhouse aisles for a few more minutes before you notice Kix has lagged behind. When you turn around to find him, you notice he’s hiding something behind his back.

Your eyes narrow. “What do you have there, Kix? It’s not a bug, is it? That was only funny the first time.”

He chuckles, “Haha, no. I promise it’s not. Here, one last thing to brighten your day.” 

You freeze when you notice what he has in his hand. 

Kix notices your expression at the small yellow flowers he’s holding out to you. “What, are they poisonous or something?” He asks hesitantly.

“No,” you shake your head smiling as you take them from him. “It’s just funny, those are St. John’s Worts.” 

“Weird name.” 

“It’s from local mythology.” You explain. “The flowers tend to bloom on the summer solstice, which is dedicated to their namesake.” 

Kix looks from you to the flowers and gently picks a few more sprigs from the nearby planter, tucking them behind your ear. “They’re pretty, like something else I’m looking at.” 

His words make you smile, but you playfully swat at his arm. “Oh stop it. I know I look like hell.” 

“You look better than anyone else would after nearly a month of non-stop work in an infectious disease ward.” He responds.

“Thanks Kix.” You say, hoping that your sincerity projects. Before you know it, you’re throwing your arms around his neck. 

Kix falters, but only for a second. You feel his arms wrap around you, strong and steady, just like him. Just like he has been for you the past few weeks. Maybe it was his clone conditioning, or maybe it was just him, but he seemed so unshakeable and he always knew what to say. 

He doesn’t relax until you do, but his hands remain on your hips, his eyes darting across your face, trying to read your thoughts. One of your hands rests on his chest, the other still on his shoulder. You won’t deny how drawn you are to him. Though you hoped for the end of this mystery illness plaguing your planet, it stung that it’s end meant saying goodbye to Kix. 

Kix is shifting. ‘He’s leaning in, why is he leaning in?’

You move as well, but the moment is shattered when your foreheads bump into each other. 

Kix lets go of you completely and takes a step back, color spreading across his cheeks.

“I uhhh…” He tries to find the words, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Uh, it’s fine.” You stammer. “You’re fi- we’re fine.” A giggle slips past your lips at the awkwardness. 

Kix breaks into some nervous laughter as well before readjusting some of the yellow flowers in your hair. “Tell me about them.” 

You smile at him. “Well, they’re perennials, meaning they come back every year, they don’t need to be replanted. Although the flowers are yellow, they’ll stain your fingers red when you crush them. They’ve been shown to have some antidepressant properties as well as anti-inflammatory benefits, but you need to be careful when combining them with modern drugs.”

You notice Kix’s soft expression as he listens to you.

“It’s been shown that St. John’s Wort has antibio and antiviral properties as we-'' Your heart stops. “Kix.”

“What?” 

“Kix, that’s it,” you repeat. “That’s why we keep losing them. We’ve been treating this Wet Lung with antibios, but those aren’t working because it’s not bacterial.”

Kix’s mouth drops open and he says the words at the same time as you. “It’s viral.” 

You can see the thoughts tumbling in his head. “And because we advanced to use the system-wide drugs, the patient’s are too weak to fight the virus, triggering the sepsis.” He stammers out. “But, wait, that can’t be right. How can it be viral? There’s never been a case of viral Wet lung reported on this planet.” 

Your feet move automatically as you start pacing. “‘There’s always a patient zero. Normal trade is scanned and sanitized.” You stop. “The troopers.”

Kix’s brow furrows. “No, we're vaccinated.”

“Yes, but vaccines aren’t a foolproof plan, with a mutated strain it might present as a mild cold, or not even show symptoms, especially since you all are engineered to have a more robust immune system.” You say, your brain moving a klick a minute. “Where were you all stationed before being deployed here?”

“Most of the 501st was on shore leave on Coruscant.” Kix replies, shaking his head. “The Carnivore and Execute Battalions… They were on Rhodia and transferred directly here for the occupation.” 

His eyes widen and he grabs your wrist without another word. 

“Kix? Kix!” You shout as he drags you through the campus back towards the hospital. “Why is it so important that you were on Rhodia?”

“Rhodia is one of the native planets for viral strains of Wet Lung.” He pants. “The Rhodians are largely immune, but some mutated strains survive. You were right, we had a couple troopers reporting colds when they transferred.” 

The doors to the Infectious Disease Ward bang open and Kix finally lets go of your wrist, giving you a moment to breathe. 

“Like you said, the troopers, we’re engineered to have stronger immune systems and we’re vaccinated.” He continues. “The population here…”

“We never have.” You finish his sentence. “We don’t have any kind of immunity. Combined with your theory that it’s a mutated strain and the antibios we’ve given them, it’s no wonder-”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” 

The two of you turn and see the Medical Director storming down the nearby hallway. 

Kix steps partially in front of you and stands at attention. “I’m sorry sir, but we-”

“I don’t care what you two were doing!” The Director booms. “You bursting in here is no excuse.”

You slowly step out from behind Kix. “Please, sir. We think we’ve figured out this pandemic.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m in charge here.” The Director says, his eyes narrowing.

Instead of bowing away as usual, you stand your ground. “I am just as qualified as you, if not more. I'm the one that's been running this ward while you sit in your office. I graduated from this very campus, top of my class and I’m the second in command at the Capital Hospital. This disease we’re dealing with, it has to be viral.”

Your Medical Director looks you up and down, pausing at the yellow flowers in your hair. “There has never been a case of viral Wet Lung reported on this planet. The antibios always work. We just need to find the right combination of meds.”

“Sir, you need to listen.” You insist. “I know we’ve always treated Wet Lung with antibios, but look,” You wave your arm at the ward behind him. “Every single patient that’s come in is either still sick or has progressed to sepsis. The other hospitals are reporting the same.”

Kix puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “She’s right, sir. Strains of viral Wet Lung are common in other systems. We had a couple battalions transfer here from one of those systems, Rhodia. It’s likely some of our troopers were carriers for a mutated variant and brought it here.”

You pick up where Kix left off. “Even though our population doesn’t have any innate immunity, a fair amount of people probably could have ridden out the virus if we hadn’t given them those antibios.” You bite your lip before continuing. “Those drugs are effective, but in a patient with no bacterial infection, all it would do is compromise their system. They can’t fight the virus, and they progress to sepsis. Only we’re not catching it before it kills them because the Wet Lung is masking the sepsis symptoms.” 

You try to stop the words from spilling over your lips but in a last desperate plea for your officer to understand, it slips out.

"We’re killing them."

Kix’s hand squeezes firmly on your shoulder as you let out a choked sob. Your medical officer looks at you curiously, you’ve always been so level headed and sure footed. 

The Director crosses his arms. "So you’re telling me to take them off the drugs and do nothing. You do know that’s how we treat viruses, right?"

You lock eyes with him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We need to give them supportive treatment; fluids, steroids, pain medication. We can try some antivirals to weaken the Wet Lung strain, but the patients will have to fight it off on their own. All we can do is give them the best chance possible.”

Your director looks you up and down before letting out a little ‘hm.’ He glances behind him to the infectious disease ward and back to you. “I will not take responsibility when this goes wrong. Looks like we’re taking your direction now, Doctor.” 

Under your instruction, all of the patients in the ward are removed off the antibio cocktail. Much to your Medical Director's annoyance, the death rate begins to improve. You sent word to the other hospitals caring for pandemic patients and they saw similar results. It’s a slow process, and Kix stays by your side every step of the way. The day you discharged your first survivor, you cried. You both did, actually.

It takes a few more weeks, some patients are touch and go. There were still a few deaths, and Kix held you as you cried for them. Then came the day that you got the news. Your patient numbers had reduced so much your little makeshift hospital was going to be closed, and you were being sent back to the Capital Hospital with a new position, no less. Your remaining patients would be transferred along with you and the University was going to be reopened. 

And yet, you weren’t quite happy. Sure you’d basically saved your planet’s population from facing extinction, but you couldn’t revel in it knowing that a certain someone was going to be shipped out. 

“The campaign here is over.” Kix had explained. “And with the pandemic contained, there’s no reason for the medics to stay behind.” 

The 501st was being sent to Ryloth. You knew there was a crisis brewing there, and you were proud that you knew some of the brave men going to help there, but it still stung. It stung the same as your eyes did as you stand on the landing platform, waiting for someone to come say goodbye. 

“There you are.” He says, walking up behind you. 

You sniff slightly, trying to keep tears from pricking at your eyes. “Here I am.” 

You hear a bit of laughter and you notice a group of clone troopers in blue armor across the landing platform that seem very interested in the two of you.

“Don’t pay attention to them.” Kix says, moving in front of you to block them from view. “Brothers…” He mumbles. 

“I get it.” You say, searching his face, what for you’re not quite sure. 

Kix reaches for a pouch on his belt. “I- I have something for you.” He says, sheepishly pressing a box into your hands. 

Looking down you realize it’s a jewelry box. Gently you open the lid and gasp at the sight of what lays inside. Strung on a delicate chain is a single golden pendant of a flower. The same flower that Kix had tucked into your hair all those weeks ago. The same flower that led to the salvation of your planet.

“Kix… I don’t know what to say.” You stammer. 

“Don’t say anything,” he says sweetly. “Just turn around for me.” 

He takes the necklace from the box and gently brushes your hair out of the way before clasping the chain around your neck. Turning back around you can only shake your head and smile at him. 

“I have something for you too.” You say. 

Kix looks at you a little puzzled, he hadn’t seen you holding anything. 

“They’re naming the new wing of the hospital after you.” You explain. “It’ll be like you’re always here. No one will forget what you did for us, for me.” 

Kix gingerly cups your cheek with one hand. “It was an honor and a privilege.”

He’s leaning in again.

This time your lips connect and the landing platform melts away. There’s nothing but him. Him and you. 

Of course your heart has to ruin it as it sinks with the returning thought that he’s literally about to leave and never come back. You break the kiss, but he keeps your foreheads pressed together. 

“What is it?” He breathes.

You can’t help but scoff. “You’re leaving and we’re kissing. I doubt the GAR will give you much time for visits.”

“Hey,” Kix says gently holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s like you said, I’ll always be here, jahaal'got. I will admit I should’ve kissed you sooner.” 

“Hey lovebird! It’s time to go!” One of his brothers shouts.

That manages to get a laugh out of the two of you. 

“I think you have to go.” You mutter.

Kix lets you go and takes a step back. “There’s one more thing, but it’s waiting in your office.” 

He turns to leave, but you reach out and grab his bracer. “Kix. Thank you. For everything.”

With a smile, he leans in to peck you on the cheek before turning and jogging over to the shuttle where his brothers are waiting. 

A grin spreads across your face when you see one with shoulder pauldrons wrap his arm around Kix’s neck to give him a noogie, while another with a top knot of hair claps him on the back. 

The sun is setting by the time you get back to your office. The door slides open with a gentle woosh. It’s a nice space, though somewhat empty as you have yet to move most of your stuff over from your old office. On your desk is a vase of small yellow flowers. You find yourself shaking your head again as you walk closer. 

Kix… when will he stop absolutely melting your heart?

When you didn't think he could surprise you any more, you realize the flowers in the vase are ceramic. Tucked in between some of the delicate blooms is a notecard. You instantly recognize Kix’s swooping handwriting.

‘I think I need to make an appointment with the Doc, I seem to have been bitten by the love bug. (augh, that was awful, Jesse told me it would be good) I hope you like these, you deserve real ones, but had a local artist make them for you since I won’t be around to make sure real ones never wilt.  I’ll see you soon, jahaal'got, on my next shore leave.’

Also Happy Birthday @arctrooper69! (today, May 20th)

[seonghwaddict]

EYES DON’T LIE — iii. a worthy competitor.

synopsis. you've always resented jeong yunho, and you were positive that the end of high school would've marked the end of your rivalry and hatred. yet now you find yourself in the same crappy hotel as him. assigned to be right next to each other much like the good old times.

pairing. jeong yunho x fem! reader. genre. mini-series, fluff, slice of life, mature, academic rivals to lovers, non-idol au. chapter warnings. swearing.

word count. 2.1k. rating. pg-13

chapter ii. chapter iii. chapter iv.

yunho’s life post high school was blissful, to say the least.

he went to his dream university and just like you graduated as the top student of that year. not long after that he landed a job at a relatively large tech company and after promotion upon promotion, he became the multi-billion-won company’s CTO. He lived lavishly; a shining example of what he was able to achieve thanks to his determination and unwavering passion.

at least until all of that came crashing down.

because the CEO just had to get involved in activities that became the downfall of the company. unbeknownst to him, the CEO had been part of an underground piracy organisation and sold the private information of millions of users to malicious parties. when the news got to the police, well… it was chaos. law enforcement swarmed the headquarters to detain the CEO as well as anyone that was identified on the list of people involved. a mess that he had no part of.

in hindsight, yunho should be carrying more than the company card and a suitcase when traveling for business trips, during which all this news got out. but how was he supposed to know he’d go from a highly respected worker to jobless in a matter of 24 hours?

and so he found himself in a shitty hotel, paying with the few bills he could find after rummaging around in his bag. the company card declined when he tried booking a different hotel—the fancy one the company had paid for forced him to leave after they found out he was affiliated with that company. for obvious reasons, he had been confused until he checked his phone for the first time that day and found hundreds of notifications flooding the lock screen that depicted picture of him and his best friend.

speaking of his best friend.

as soon as got into his his temporary bedroom—aka the hotel room that smelled so odd he opened the window as wide as he could and stuck his head out to avoid the stench—he called the man he’s known since they were toddlers, ranting about the situation. unsurprisingly, he found the situation immensely funny.

“so you’re poor now?”

“no, mingi, i just don’t have my personal card. i’ll go withdraw money tomorrow morning.” yunho propped his camera up on the small desk opposite the bed, leaning back in the creaking wooden chair as he rubbed at his temples, dreading the oncoming headache he was starting to feel. “but i’m jobless, for now.”

mingi pursed his lips, nose scrunching as he looked at his phone screen, watching how distressed yunho looked. “how can i help you, then?”

a shrug was the first response he got. “just-” the rotating chair squeaked as yunho leaned a bit further to stare up at the ceiling for a moment before reverting his gaze back to his phone. “just talk to me about something else, distract me for now.”

“okay then,” the fake blond’s face brightened and a wide grin spread across his face as he sat up and leaned closer. “so, you know my boss hongjoong, right?”

and so the next ten minutes were filled with him gossiping about how his boss seemed to have the hots for a cute reporter. yunho listened, grateful to get his mind off his current predicament, but barely registered any words being said. he occasionally replied with agreeing hums or other reactions suitable for the context, but he couldn’t help but feel the tell tale signs of his body wanting to rest. mingi seemed to catch on as he paused his story and squinted at his phone screen, catching the way his best friend’s eyes drooped with fatigue.

“hello? earth to yunho?”

he stirred awake, snorting in a breath before yawning. he checked the time on his very expensive watch briefly before his eyes flickered back up to mingi.

“you look tired, man,” worry was written all over his face, sure he could already see dark circles forming under yunho’s eyes. “get some rest.”

“yeah… yeah, that’s a good idea.” yunho spoke through his yawn, hand covering his open mouth.

they said their goodbyes and ended the call. yunho sat in silence for a moment. he turned the chair, inspecting the bed. it was sad, small and pretty empty. wishing he was back home on his soft king sized bed, he poked the mattress, frowning at the firmness before pulling back and looking at the pillows. well, pillow. singular. while the mattress felt to stiff, the pillow the opposite. he got up to check the little closet for another pillow that he could stack on top to add some firmness, but to no avail.

after a moment of hesitation, he decided to ask the guy at the lobby if he could possibly have an extra pillow. before head for the door, he stopped in the bathroom, checking his teeth and brushing his hand through his dark hair, a little overgrown and resembling a mullet. he fixed the tie of his suit that he had yet to take off and left the bathroom, his hand wrapping around the door handle of the room and pulling it open.

as he stepped out, his temporary neighbour seemed to have just arrived. turning to greet the stranger, he stopped in his tracks just as she had.

what a perfect end to his day. the cherry on top, really.

truthfully, he hadn’t given you much thought after your high school graduation. (he actually did. a friend of his went to the same university as you and he’d occasionally ask him if he knew how you were doing). but seeing you now, he realised you hadn’t changed much. of course, you seemed to have a grown a tiny bit and you looked more mature, but those eyes—those soft eyes, so pretty, red and puffy through your tears—were undeniably yours. he recognised you before he recognised the state you were in, a sobbing mess. in all the years he had known you, he doesn’t recall ever seeing you cry. seeing you like this, with flushed and tear stained cheeks, made his head spin for a moment.

before he could open his mouth to say anything, you were gone. he watched the door of your room fall shut, followed by a thud from inside the room. what it may have been—a kick to the wall, a punch, an item thrown across the room—he wouldn’t have been able to tell as he stared at the door dumbly. he wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but what else was he supposed to do when he ran into you of all people in this obscure hotel and somehow ended up next to each other?

watching you disappear through that door reminded him too much of the last time he saw you.

though it had been a warm summer, it rained on the last day of school. having checked the weather, he brought an umbrella with him. but as he watched you stand front of the entrance of the school, alone and looking out into the rain without a jacket, let alone an umbrella, with a conflicted frown and nothing to protect you from the rain but the roof, he found himself caring about you. before he realised it, he stood in front of you, holding out his black umbrella and consequently getting a little wet.

you couldn’t help but stare at him, your gaze switching between his unusually sincere face and hand extending the red handle of the umbrella. you shook your head, insisting that you won’t take it, but he cut you off.

“come on, it’s just an umbrella, i have no problem walking home in the rain.”

“no, please, yunho, it’s your umbrella, i’ll figure something out. you’ll get sick.”

after some more back and forth, he offered a compromise. you could walk home together.

and that’s exactly what the two of you did. you walked side by side, squeezed together under the umbrella, droplets of rain occasionally hitting your right shoulder or his left shoulder. despite the weather, it was oddly peaceful. a steady conversation flowed between the two of you, free of any teasing or insults. you weren’t quite sure why he was being so nice, but you supposed it was the last you’d see each other before heading separate ways.

unfortunately, the two of you thought at the time, you lived in the same apartment building. while you lived on the third floor, he was up on the fifth. he decided it only made sense to walk you to your place first. unlike your walk outside, the short journey from the elevator to your front door was dead silent. even when you got to the front door, neither of you spoke for a moment until he cleared his throat, his voice almost… emotional?

“i guess this is it, huh?”

“yeah… i guess… have fun finding a better, funnier, smarter rival in college.”

“nah, i don’t think i’ll even bother.”

“hm? really? i thought you’re all about that competition.”

“yeah, but you’re the only person worth competing with.”

he’d never forget the way your eyes widened comically as you looked at him after that, a blush so faint it was easy to miss in this horrible lighting. maybe all the people saying you’d make a good couple were on to something. still, he knew you’d never see each other again, there was no point in trying anything. his cell phone rang, interrupting the tense silence. it was his mother, telling him to hurry and get home.

“i… uh, i have to go… but i’ll see you around, someday?”

you smiled, a smile so genuine his stomach did a cartwheel.

“i’ll see you around, someday.”

you stared at each other for a moment, stood across from each other in the hallway. he wasn’t sure what to do. should he hug you? should he just turn and leave? you seemed just as conflicted. after a long minute, you both extended your hands for a handshake at the same time. a small laugh was shared as your hands intertwined in a slow handshake, holding onto each other a few moments too long. his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand gently. he gave it a small squeeze before letting go and bowing his head, winking playfully.

“good luck out there, y/n.”

“likewise, yunho.”

and with the you disappeared through the front door, much like you had moments ago. though at that time you didn’t look so heartbroken. eventually he got himself to put one foot in front of the other and head to the lobby for his original mission.

he thanked the lobby man quietly as he was handed two more pillows, his mind still occupied with you. you’d think that whatever he felt for you on that last day would’ve dissipated by now, but that was quite the opposite. despite it having been so many years, seeing you again felt like a punch to his throat.

on his way back to his room, he thought about knocking on your door for a split second. in the end, he concluded you probably wouldn’t want to talk to him. he wasn’t sure what he would’ve said anyway. hey, it’s really nice seeing you again, by the way did i mention that i’ve realised i had a massive crush on you that time we said goodbye and those feelings haven’t gone away?

no, absolutely fucking not.

he nearly slapped himself at the hypothetical monologue, dragging himself to his hotel room. a soft thump resounded as he tossed the pillows on his bed before undressing and getting under the thin covers. the time it took for him to fall asleep was unclear as he stared up at the ceiling. whoever rented the room above him seemed to want to make a joke in the ground, thundering stomps making the ceiling and his open window shake.

had he not stepped out at that time to get pillow and bumped into you, he would’ve probably been cursing and swearing to himself to get out of this place first thing in the morning. but, considering who his current neighbour was, he couldn’t help but think…

would one or two more days really be so bad?

[ lilo's notes . . . ] hii sorry it took so long to update this, i hope this makes up for it 💔💔 we finally get a little gimped into yunho’s feelings!! yippee!! i’m sorry he comes off as a little stuck up near the beginning, but please understand he went from a luxurious suite to a hotel on the brink of falling apart; i think most people would be a little disappointed 🙏🙏 he’s not a bad guy i promise

[ networks . . . ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

[ taglist | series + permanent . . . ] @yuyusuyu @diorwoo @loveyluv7 @ad0rechuu @h-nji @nakiiko @lelaleleb @moon-gyus @baribaaari @bvidzsoo @kunikku @kyeos4ng @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbbg @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

[krypticcafe]

Happy Super Late Valentines </3

rating: PG-13/teen

pairing: harry warden/the miner x gn!reader

warning(s): reader had a boyfriend, brief mention of cheating, small mentions of blood, violence, and gore, and harry being scary, for j u s t a bit.

synopsis: you had a shitty valentines day, and harry comes to pick up the leftovers.

a/n: okay, I haven't written fanfic in years, so please excuse me if this comes off as an uber corny dumpster fire. I'm just trying to have fun :'))))

So what if it's Valentine's Day?

So what if you wanted to spend a peaceful time with your boyfriend at home with some baked cookies?

So what if you accidentally burnt those cookies?

So what if you were so paranoid that it felt like someone was watching you the entire time?

So what if your boyfriend pushed asked you to go with him and his friends in some spooky abandoned mineshaft?

So what if you were surrounded by couples making out in a cramped, dark, and cold nooks and crannies and one of them happened to be your best friend and your now ex-boyfriend?

So what if you lashed out, dumped him, stormed out of the cave only to get more lost due to the heat of your anger?

It's fine. It's whatever. Could be worse.

Or at least that's what you told yourself to cope with the shredding of your heart and the burning tears.

Oooooh, but that bastard! The audacity to cheat on you, with her of all people! And he was such an idiot to do so after inviting you to come! Did he not think for a fraction of a second that he'd get caught? Or did all the blood in his brain just go to his dic-

God, what were you thinking, coming here with those guys, giving him the time of day?

Looking back on things, you realized you dodged not a bullet, but a whole missile. But did it reslly have to be on Valentines Day of all days? The world really is just that cruel.

And it was about to get even more cruel.

Screams, maybe half a dozen of them, echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave, finding their way to you. At first, you assumed the group was messing with each other. Either way, you could care less.

Then they started growing more frequent and louder, and you scowled.

'In here after that fiasco? Really? Christ, I'm never going out with any of them ever aga-'

Then you heard a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, you started to prefer the possibility of what you originally thought they were doing.

Your head whipped to the tunnel left of you as you heard a scream far too familiar, and your body began to curl in on itself as you sat in a ball in the corner.

Footsteps began beating from the same corridor where the scream originated.

Anticipating the worst, you wiped the blur from your eyes, took a deep breath, and braced your hand over a nearby stone that you deemed good enough to buy you some time.

The footsteps grew louder, but remained at a painstakingly steady pace, as if to tease your demise. There was a loud thunk! before the screech of metal scraping rock pierced your ears. You were half expecting to see the grim reaper at this point.

Instead, you were greeted with someone else who might as well be the same person. They were tall, broad, and clad in nothing but a full set of miner's gear. Not a single speck of skin peeked past any part of their clothing, and their mask even managed to hide their eyes behind the dark lens. With what little brightness there was provided by the dim cave lights, you just barely noticed the glistening of the blood on their uniform and the way it dripped down the tip of their pickaxe.

You recognized him as the man from the town's local urban legend. It always seemed cheesy and way too cliche to you but here you were, face to face with the man, the myth himself. Would he make you another one of his victims tonight? Would your death become just another story told at the campfire? The thought made your stomach turn.

The two of you stayed in silence, your hand still gripping the stone while you stared at the miner, searching for any movement that suggesting that you'd be the next one to eat metal. But all you could see was the way his chest heaved, rising and falling from what you understood as the cause of all those screams from earlier.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Clank!

To your surprise, he set down his pickaxe and approached you, kneeling down to your curled form. His head tilted slightly, as if to get a better look at you. A part of you wished you could see his eyes, wondered where he stared, why he stared. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you froze like a deer in headlights, squeezing your eyes shut when he lifted a hand and-

... wiped a tear on your cheek.

You didn't even remember the stone until he pried it from your hand and interlaced your fingers with his, pulling you up with him and into his embrace as he lightly petted your head.

Was he... comforting you?

It would've worked well if uh, he didn't reek of blood and dust.

Staying still as if your life depended on it (it probably did), you let him do as he pleased.

He pulled away from you but kept a gentle grip on your hand, nodding his head in the direction of the tunnels. You couldn't be bothered to question anything anymore, shock was the only thing that kept the fatigue from catching up.

He led you down countless tunnels and caverns, passing by bodies mangled beyond recognition, except for one. You were pretty sure that one was the cretin.

The entire time, the hold his hand had on yours was nothing short of soft and comforting, it almost warmed your heart. Almost.

Eventually, you found where he was taking you, back to the entrance of the mineshaft. He let go of your hand and urged you to the opening. Hesitantly stepping forward, you paused and looked back. He still stood there, though less menacing than he was before despite all the blood and dirt caked on him.

"I- uh... thank you."

Your voice was shaky from processing the events of the past few hours and you had no requirement to thank him, but you felt like you'd regret it if you didn't. The sentiment came across, and he nodded, reaching up again to trace a thumb on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pinch. You watched as he turned and left back into the abyss of the mines, disappearing into the cavern.

It was still dark outside, but you knew the way back from here. You were no longer shaking, nor seething, and the walk back home was oddly peaceful for it being so late in the night.

So what if you might want to see him again?

Bonus

The next morning, you woke up with your eyes feeling raw and your feet sore, but work calls and you had to get up nonetheless.

Nursing a cup of coffee, you checked your door for any mail, instead finding a bright red, heart-shaped box at your doorstep. Fortunately, it didn't contain any beating human heart as the urban legends told, but interestingly enough, a single wild rose and a card.

"Happy Valentines, won't you be mine? - Harry"

[mirchloe]

#psychonautssecretsanta2024

ho ho ho! it's the middle of november! that means, once again, it's time for the secret santa! last year went off without a hitch (if you just ignore how my main was shadowbanned for sending out the giftee assignments, which caused me to finally make a side blog lol), so i'm back once again with this event i've happily hosted since 2016.

hate to beat a dead horse because this is the same shtick as last year and the year prior, but i'll be tremendously busy in december. i will be more hands off and ask that all participants follow the timeline. without further ado, here's the timeline along with the rules!

TIMELINE

the application will be open from 11/15/24 starting at 4:00 P.M. PST and close on 11/25/24 at 11:59 P.M. PST. if you miss the sign up period, please message me immediately because i will begin pairing people up promptly.

between 11/27/24 through 11/29/24, i will send out giftee information to the account/username (twitter or tumblr only) that was provided, so please keep your eye on your dms. if i can’t reach you on tumblr, i’ll send an ask asking you to open your messages to everyone. that way, i can pass along your giftee to you.

as always, 12/15/24 is the check-in day. i will be going around messaging people asking for progress updates. this doesn’t have any specification as people work differently, so if you haven’t started, that’s also fine. it just helps me know where people are in their progress, or if they might need an extension. if you want to reach out first, that helps me mark you down faster!

speaking of extensions, please let me know before 12/22/24 if you will need an extension. life happens, and i know that from experience, so don’t hesitate to reach out. also, if you believe you’ll need to drop out, please let me know before 12/22/24 as well, so that i can find another santa for your giftee. you will still receive your gift!

gifts are due between 12/24/24 through 12/28/24. please tag your giftee, and use the hashtag psychonautssecretsanta2024, so that i can keep track of who posted. (of course, in addition, you can always use the relevant game, character, and pairing tags!) i’m very excited to see what everyone will create!

for those who asked for extensions, and for the santas who took on an extra gift if someone dropped, those gifts are due between 1/4/25 through 1/8/25.

RULES

adult/minor pairings and incestuous pairings are not allowed. requesting them in your application will result in you being removed from the event entirely.

keep your content PG-13/keep the t rating of psychonauts in mind. nsfw material is not allowed in order to be inclusive to everyone. to clarify, please do not request nsfw material that is graphically sexual or violent in nature.

be respectful of your giftee’s wish list, and do not share them. over the years, i have mostly partnered people based on similar interests in characters, pairings, etc., but there will always be different interpretations of aforementioned characters, pairings, etc.

i mentioned it in the above form, but please don’t give me any usernames that are for ao3 or discord to prevent any confusion. this event is also NOT associated with any personal secret santa events on any discord. this is strictly for tumblr (and maybe twitter).

not really a rule, but any received questions about the event will be answered and added to the reply section.

[louiseolivier]

Late Night Confessions

Read below or on AO3

fix-it fic. hurt Tommy. Very PG-13 rated. nothing crazy. Edited because I forgot a v brief sex description. 😬

Buck didn’t hear his phone ringing the first or second time it happened. He was deep enough in sleep that it may have filtered into his dreams, but any memory of those dissipated when his phone began ringing a third time. This time, the sound pulled him from sleep, but it probably had more to do with the fact that someone was also banging on his door. 

Because the phone was closest and he was still groggy, he answered it first, pushing himself into a seated position. “Hello?”

“Buck? I’m outside, man. You need to let me in.” 

Eddie. The feeling of disappointment was automatic. 10 weeks on, and he still had hope for another voice. Buck swung his feet over the side of the bed, eyes still closed, still half asleep. Awareness was slow going, but eventually, the questions started coming. Why was Eddie calling him? Why was he at the front door? What time was it anyway? Buck cracked an eye open. The loft was dark sans the ambient light coming from the buildings outside. It was the middle of the night, and Eddie was at his front door. Fear and nausea bubbled up in his chest, afraid of what he was about to ask. “Christopher?”

“Tommy,” Eddie corrected a waver in his voice. 

Buck was out of bed and tripping down the stairs. He slipped halfway down, caught himself on the banister, and slid on his ass the last few steps. Adrenaline was pumping, so he didn’t notice how hard he hit his tailbone or the scrape on his forearm that was pooling pinpricks of blood.

He opened the door, and Eddie walked in. Eddie pulled Buck’s hoodie off the coat rack Tommy hung for him and tossed it to Buck. “I forgot your key. I don’t suppose you have any of his clothes or the key to his place?” Eddie asked. 

Buck put on the hoodie and sat in a kitchen chair to put on the shoes Eddie tossed him. “I don’t,” Buck lied. He didn’t have a key, but he did have one of Tommy’s flannels, and the pajama pants Buck was wearing were Tommy’s, too. Those, along with a bottle of body wash that Buck sniffed to masturbate or cry to (sometimes it happened at the same time), never made it into the box back to Tommy. 

“That’s okay. I’m sure there’s a key with his possessions. We can get it from the hospital when we get there. Where’s your wallet and keys?”

“Dresser upstairs.” Buck shoved his foot into his shoe and called after Eddie. “He’s going to be okay?” He hated how much his voice cracked.

“He’ll live.” Eddie jogged down the stairs and opened the door, waiting for Buck to finish dressing. “He was conscious when they brought him in. The woman I talked to didn’t have a lot of details. He was in a car accident and was still in imaging when she called. Ready?”

Buck nodded, walked to the door, and pocketed the wallet and his phone that Eddie handed him. He called the elevator while Eddie locked the door behind him and asked, “How’d you find out?”

The elevator door dinged open. They got on, and Eddie said, “I’m his emergency contact.”

“Oh,” Buck said and blinked back the tears that started to sting. 

&&&&&&&&&

A teenager ran a red light and t-boned Tommy’s truck. Against the odds, the kid wasn’t drunk, just not paying attention. The driver’s side door crumpled into Tommy’s thigh, and a malfunctioning airbag meant Tommy’s head knocked against the side window before it was deployed. The glass cracked and embedded into his right temple. He had a concussion, and they were keeping an eye out for swelling. No fractures to his femur, but he had moderate bruising to his thigh and was being monitored in case they needed to drain the hematoma. All of it together meant Tommy was going to be grounded and on crutches for a month or two.  

Buck listened to the doctor and Eddie discuss how lucky Tommy was, and how it could have been so much worse. He bounced on his soles, wanting to escape into Tommy’s room. He was less than 50 feet away, but he was terrified of being stopped, of being told he was no longer on the list and, therefore, must be excluded. 

Eddie caught his eye and nodded towards the room and that was all the permission Buck needed. He slinked behind the doctor, avoided eye contact with the nurses, and slipped inside Tommy’s room to find that Tommy wasn’t alone. 

The man sitting next to Tommy’s bed was lean, with a long face and tan skin. He was probably around Tommy’s age and had soft brown eyes that watched Tommy worriedly. That was until Buck interrupted his vigil. The man looked up in surprise, but then a resigned understanding crossed his face. “You’re Buck,” he said quietly.

Buck nodded. “And you're...”

A sad grin crossed his face. “A placeholder.”

“Sorry?” Buck said with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t mind me, I'm being maudlin. I’m Mateo. Or Matt. He’s called me both. Although, I doubt he’s mentioned me at all.”

The name did ring a bell, and Buck quickly flipped through the rolodex of information he collected about Tommy—a sadly thin collection. One of the things he realized during their time apart was Buck barely knew anything about Tommy’s past. The person he was before he met Buck. He’d give an anecdote about the army or his childhood, hints of who he was under Gerrard, but never enough to tell the whole story. Buck hit a crisis point on whether he knew Tommy at all. The cool and confident guy he fell for crumbled when Buck suggested they move in together. Was it all a facade? What depths of trauma was Tommy hiding? 

10 weeks was a long time, and the conclusion Buck settled on was that the kind, tender man who showed up for him was real. That his surface cynicism was real, but so was the covert romantic. In the end, Tommy loved him. Or at least he was close. Close enough that Buck scared him so bad he bolted. And in that time, instead of being soured by the arms-length Tommy held him at, Buck had only become even more certain that Tommy was his best chance for happiness. Maddie promised the universe would send him someone, but the fact was, it already happened, and Buck wasn’t giving up. 

He had thought the ball was in Tommy’s court. He made the mess, and as soon as Tommy pulled his head from his ass, he’d be back at Buck’s door ready to explain. But standing there, after a close call, and with a man who seemed half in love with his ex, Buck realized he would have to take the reins and lead them back to each other. There was no other ending he’d accept. 

Mateo blinked at him expectantly, and Buck suddenly remembered a scorching day in July. It was after the 4th, and they were staying at Tommy’s because, despite the blackout curtains and the building's A/C, his one-story bungalow consistently stayed five degrees cooler than Buck’s loft. They sat on either end of Tommy’s couch, legs tangled, while a Dodgers game played, volume low on the TV, and Buck was giving Tommy an internet quiz on where to vacation based on his favorite desserts. 

Tommy picked a lemon tart over a chocolate gateau, and Buck was questioning whether he should ever let that man inside his body ever again when Tommy’s phone pinged with a text message. Tommy picked up his phone, and his face morphed from mild interest into a scrunchy smile of pleasure. He chuckled and started to type. Another message came through because Tommy’s eyes widened, and a high “Hello!” popped out. 

“What?” Buck asked with a hesitant smile. 

“I just got a dick pic.” Tommy chuckled, shook his head, and continued to type. 

“What?! Let me see.” Buck was on his knees, shuffling between Tommy’s legs. He still had a smile plastered on, but it was more strained than amused. 

“No,” Tommy said and looked a little shocked that Buck even asked. 

“Seriously?” Buck reached out, but Tommy moved his phone away.

“This isn’t a random dick, Evan. I know this guy. Look, I get it if you’re weirded out. I’m deleting the picture.” Buck sat back on his heels and watched Tommy tap his phone. “There. Gone.” Tommy flashed Buck the screen long enough to show only text bubbles, but not long enough for him to read them.  

“Who is he? Ex-boyfriend?”

“Mateo? No. K, I told him I’m off the market, so no more surprise penises.” Tommy tossed the phone onto the coffee table and wrapped his massive hands around Buck’s waist. “There’s only one dick I’m interested in.” He pulled Buck flush against him and proceeded to kiss him into oblivion. 

Even back then, there was a part of Buck that knew he was being distracted, a tactic to keep him from digging deeper, but the larger implication wasn’t something that even crossed his mind until after Tommy was gone. It infuriated him.

“You texted him,” Buck told the other man. He moved to Tommy’s other side, desperate to touch but not wanting to overstep while this new wrinkle blinked sad eyes up at him. “Back in July,” he added. The lighting was dim, but Buck was pretty sure he saw pink creep into Mateo’s cheeks and neck. “He didn’t show me if-if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It crossed my mind,” Mateo said, his eyes not quite meeting Buck’s.

“Were you with him?” Buck asked. 

“I was,” Mateo answered and lifted his right hand to show his pinky and ring finger splinted and taped together. “I got lucky.”

“Are you two fucking?” Buck hated how thin his voice sounded. He knew the answer, but he craved the pain of confirmation. 

“Yes, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m his designated rebound.”

“10 weeks is pretty long for a rebound,” Buck bit out. His rebound was a pretty, petite redhead who bounced on his dick and moaned like a porn star. It was fun in the moment, but when she left, Buck wanted to scour himself with a Brillo pad. His next hook-up was a man who had a passing resemblance to Tommy. Buck had thought he’d be able to purge whatever residual feelings he had left and come out on the other side with a clean slate. It didn’t work out. Again, the sex was fun, but after, Buck locked himself in his bathroom until the guy left. After that, he went back to baking and since picked up cake decorating. He was getting pretty damn good at that too.

“It’s only been three, actually. I was seeing someone up ‘til then. Like back in July, he was seeing you when I called.” Still gazing at Tommy, Mateo said, “He loves you, but there came a point where protecting himself overrode that. Funny, since usually he’s the one who gets left.” His head snapped up to look at Buck, and he pointedly asked, “Do you love him? I’m assuming you do since you’re here, but I need to know.”

Buck nodded, unwilling to say those words to anyone until Tommy heard them first. 

“Good. Tommy and I have been doing this dance for five years, and his walking away from you tore him to ribbons in a way no one else has. And I was around for the Chester debacle. He’s stubborn, more broken than he lets on, and he’s VERY good at compartmentalizing. But I can promise you, you won’t regret giving him a second chance. You’re going to have to be willing to fight for it, though. Like I said, he’s stubborn.”

“I’m ready,” Buck promised. “I’m so fucking angry at him for putting us in this situation, but I get it. I do. I just want him back.”    

Mateo stood. He bent over Tommy, the fingers of his good hand carding through Tommy’s curls, and he bumped their noses together. Softly, he said, “I hope to god I never see you again.” He chuckled deep in his chest and kissed the corner of Tommy’s mouth. Mateo moved to the door but paused long enough to squeeze Buck’s forearm. “If he asks, tell him I left because he’s better off in your hands, and he knows that.” Mateo gave Tommy one last look and then exited the room. 

Surreal was how Buck felt, but he buried it and sat in the chair next to Tommy. He took Tommy’s hand in his and let himself fully feel for the first time since Eddie came banging at his door. He let the tears form and fall and pressed Tommy’s slack hand against his cheek. His anger still simmered somewhere low in his belly, but relief won out. Even the idea of a second chance could have been snuffed out in an instant if the accident had gone differently, and Buck cried tears of joy that was not the case. 

“You get 24 hours,” he told Tommy. “Once they release you, you get 24 hours of me doting on you, deferring to you, but after that? Holy shit, are we going to have it out. Because, seriously, how dare you make unilateral decisions for me. Especially since we both know they’re bullshit. After that, we should give ourselves a month to just be. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed waking up with you and watching all the dumb movies you think I need to watch, and just how easy it used to be. I think we deserve that reprieve because it’s going to get real hard after that. I’m going to tell you about Daniel and my parents and my exes, and you’re going to do the same even though I know you’re going to fight me on it. We need to talk about all the hard shit we avoided the first six months of our relationship. Like how much I hate basketball,” Buck ended with a chuckle. 

The door swished open, and Eddie stepped inside. “Any change?”

“No, he’s still asleep.”

Eddie stepped up to the bed and held Tommy’s ankle. “The doctor said he was acting agitated, so they gave him a sedative. Said it should wear off in another hour. I talked to the night duty nurse. She said you can stay as long as you're quiet and your presence doesn’t upset him, but you need to be gone by shift change.”

Buck nodded and gave Eddie a watery thin, “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and added, “I’m glad you let him depend on you.”

“That man is his own worst enemy, but he needed someone to be in his corner, and, well, I needed someone to care for. Even if that only meant drinking beer, eating fast food, and watching whatever sport was on TV.”

“Did you know about Mateo?”

Eddie looked behind him at the closed door, then back at Buck. “Is that who left?” Buck nodded, and Eddie said, “I have no idea who he is or what he means to Tommy. Is he going to be a problem?”

“No.”

Eddie nodded and patted Tommy’s ankle. “I should probably go. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow, but text me if anything changes. Okay?”

“Yeah. Hey, Eddie? Thank you. Thank you for including me.”

“You know, I almost didn’t. I don’t know what the answer is, Buck. I’ve watched the two of you act like smitten kittens that look at each other like the other hangs the moon. On the flip side, he crushed your heart and his own because...he loves you? Because your relationship falling apart was inevitable? Just as a warning, I don’t think he’s ready. But I also know your powers of persuasion and your need to at least confront him since he left. And to be fair, I cheated on my girlfriend and traumatized my son because I wanted to live the fantasy with a clone of my wife, so I have no room to judge.”

Buck kissed the back of Tommy’s hand before placing it on the bed. He got up and embraced Eddie tightly, thanking his friend again for giving him the opportunity for another chance, even if Eddie was dubious of their reconciliation.

Eddie chuckled and said, “Honestly, at this point, good luck. Either you guys figure it out, or you don’t. Just know, if it falls apart again, you’re getting me in the divorce.” 

Buck grinned, gave Eddie one last squeeze, and pushed him away. “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With Eddie gone, Buck flipped the chair around to watch Tommy’s face head-on. He brushed the curls on Tommy’s head before sitting down and clasping their hands together. “I love you,” Buck told him. “I’ll tell you again when you wake up, and every morning we’re together. I’ll keep telling you even after you finally accept it to be true because you’re not just my last, Tommy. You’re my only.” 

[distantdarlings]

HABITUAL // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 4.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert (Requested)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this (changed slightly)* Annoyed that Theo won't seem to make a move, despite your growing feelings for each other, you ask a friend of the both of you to help make him jealous.

+ WARNINGS - Language, brief sensuality, kissing, two time skips, making Theo jealous, brief fake-dating

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ribs - Lorde

---

Professor Trelawney’s voice droned on as your quill lazily scratched across your notebook. You were between listening to what she was saying and sleeping, and your brain slowly tilted toward the second. She was rambling on about the properties of a crystal ball above all other vectors for sight-seeing. Something about its curvature made the answers come to you clearer…

Your quill tip ran dry and made a slightly louder scratch against the parchment, sending a nasty shudder down your spine. Your eyes darted over to your inkwell and noticed that it was practically empty. A deep sigh ran through your body, depressing your shoulders. Why was it you always ran out of something when you needed it most? Maybe grabbing a replacement would wake you up a bit. You raised your hand and waited for the long-winded professor to catch sight of it.

“Oh, yes, what is it?” she stared at you through her hugely magnified glasses, tilting her head back slightly to catch that sweet spot in them. 

“I’ve run out of ink. I was just wondering if I could—” A tap on your shoulder interrupted your question. You turned towards the owner of the hand and spotted Theodore. A small smile spread across your lips as a small backup inkwell was displayed in his hand. You nodded your thanks and grabbed it from him, intending to let the professor continue her lecture.  

“Never mind that, Professor Trelawney!” you said, flashing a brief smile at the eccentric woman. She nodded and continued as if she’d never stopped. You wondered when she’d take her next breath.

“You’re welcome, gorgeous,” a small whisper said next to your ear. You smiled at Theo’s flirtatious nature, knowing he’d use this little favor to ask for something in return later. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before backing up. You rolled your eyes, promising to get him back for that.

By the end of class, your stomach was growling, and your mind was exhausted. It was a good thing you didn’t have divinity again until Wednesday because you didn’t think you’d make it if you didn’t get a small break from her each week. And thank Merlin, your next class wasn’t until after lunch. 

You gathered your things and let them slide into your bag. The boys behind you had begun to do the same as you headed towards the door. They were always behind you for whatever reason. You weren’t sure. Maybe it was just a boy thing. 

“Hey!” Theo’s voice came from behind you. You turned to catch him jogging toward you with his hands tightened around his bag straps. You stopped and flashed a smile, watching as his eyes briefly flashed down to your lips. You withheld any physical reaction so as not to embarrass him. “Are you still eating with us?”

“Of course, I am,” you say, “I always do. It wouldn’t be a good day without having lunch with my favorite boy.” You gently touched your thumb and forefinger to his chin, teasing him just a bit. You saw his lips part as soon as your skin came into contact with his—just as it always did. 

“I’m your favorite boy?” he chuckled, letting a smirk fall over his lips. He readjusted his bag over his shoulders. Your fingers came up to separate your collar from your neck, allowing just a breath of skin to flash over his eyes. You watched as he glanced down at every inch of you that was revealed to him, and his throat slid up nervously. You could play him like a piano, and it was addicting. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Mattheo asked, coming up behind the two of you. His voice sliced the tension between the two of you in half. 

“Nope, we were just getting ready to head down to the Great Hall,” you replied. “Are you eating with us?”

“Duh, who else am I going to eat with?” Mattheo asked. You rolled your eyes at him and looped your arm through Theo’s, allowing him to lead the way to the dining hall. Enzo quickly jogged up beside the group, falling in step with the rest of them. Your big brother had a habit of always being the latest to the party. It was one of his many endearing qualities. 

Your group appeared before the vast doors of the Great Hall, allowing them to quickly swallow you all up as you realized that everyone else was just as starving as you were. You selected your usual seats at the far end of the long Slytherin table and dug in. Soon enough, yours and everyone else’s plates were piled high with the many options laid out before you.

“Merlin, help us all….if that wasn’t the most boring class yet,” Mattheo sighed into his food. The rest of you laughed at his confession, all nodding in agreement. Trelawney’s class was rarely exciting, but when it was boring, it was really boring. 

“The only bit of excitement was you asking for some new ink,” Theo nodded toward you, a bit of a roll pressed between his teeth. You smiled and shook your head.

“And, of course, you were there, right to the rescue,” you laughed. “I was hoping I could leave the class and grab a replacement from my dorm to wake myself up a little.”

“My bad, I thought I was helping.”

“You were…unfortunately,” you replied. The four of you laughed in response, knowing well enough that they all had done something to try and get out of the squirrely professor’s class. A comfortable silence ensued soon after as the group finished up their meals and let the large meal settle sweetly on their stomachs.

“I’m really tired now,” you groaned, laying your head down against the table. You felt a hand reach over and gently brush its fingers along your hair. You assumed it was Theo, as he habitually absentmindedly touched you somehow. You figured you were a sort of stress ball to him. A small laugh touched your chest at the thought. 

“Teddy, can I sit on your lap?” you asked, already knowing his answer.

“Of course, love, come here,” he responded. The three boys had begun to discuss some kind of new broom headed towards the Quidditch market, and, to be entirely honest, you couldn’t care less about it. All the more reason for you to doze off just a bit in Theo’s lap. You pulled yourself up and stepped over your side of the bench. You walked around the edge of the table, sleepily approaching Theo. Though his attention remained on his friends, his legs slid open and his arm pushed out, allowing you to be able to slip onto his lap. 

You gently grabbed his shoulder and stepped between his legs, settling yourself on his lap. Once you were seated, his arm slid firmly around your waist, sliding his fingers comfortably beneath the waistband of your skirt. You set your head on his shoulder, pressing your face close to his neck, letting your lips brush his skin every once in a while. If he could avoid any romantic feelings from this, he either genuinely disliked you or was utterly numb to all physical affection. 

Your goal for the last few weeks was to muster up every bit of courage the universe had blessed you with and completely take it out on Theo. The feelings and the tension sustained between the two of you were too obvious for it to mean nothing. He had feelings for you, you’d bet your final grade on it.

Just as your lips brushed his skin a third time, you noticed a trail of chills travel down the back of his neck. He shuddered slightly. You suppressed a smile. Just a little bit more…

“Teddy,” you whispered in his ear. He all but jumped and turned to look at you.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, sucking his bottom lip roughly between his teeth. Your eyes watched the motion for a few seconds before popping back up to his eyes.

“I was just wondering if you wanted me to rub your back a bit?” you asked, smiling innocently. “I know how sore it gets after Quidditch practice.” 

His eyes glanced between your lips and your eyes, savoring every detail of your face. The front of his pants tightened a bit, pushing a small adjustment out of him. He grabbed your waist, lifted you gently, slid his legs forward and farther apart, then set you back down. Heat pooled in your lower stomach at his ability to pick you up like it was nothing. Damn it, you had a raging crush on him.

“Uh, no, darling,” he breathed, eyes fully pulling away from you now. “I’m alright, maybe another time…and, actually, I think I’ll just…” he trails off, gently sliding you off his leg and onto the seat next to him. Disappointment and rejection swirl in your chest with every aching breath. He’d never done anything but be affectionate with you, but for some reason, he was acting off today. 

He got to his feet, completely avoiding all eye contact, and headed off from the table with another word. Your lips parted in surprise as you watched him walk off towards the exit. The boys behind you had stopped talking, and you turned to catch their attention.

“What is his problem?” Mattheo asked.

“I have no idea,” you respond slowly, glancing back toward the double doors as if he might walk in again. 

xxx

Later that evening, after all of your classes for the day had ended and dinner was revving up in the Great Hall, you sat on your bed, torn between a couple of things. For one, you were starved and wanted to grab some dinner; two, you were too scared you’d bump into Theo while you were down there and add a second painfully awkward interaction to the day; and three, your stomach was churning so violently with nerves and nausea, you were sure you’d puke if you ate anything or had one more thought about Theodore Nott. 

Every time lunch popped into your head again, you nearly hurled. That was easily one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to you, and you’d fallen off your broom during Quidditch while the whole school was watching. 

Maybe he’d lost feelings for you. That would explain the strange distance between the two of you today. But it didn’t make sense why it was so sudden. Had you upset him or made him uncomfortable today? You weren’t sure. Your brain ached from all of the contemplating and speed runs of scenarios you’d been doing the past hour. 

You could ask Enzo or Mattheo to see if they had any insight into their friend’s brain, but you figured that might be a little rude. You didn’t want Theo to think you were a coward or were trying to talk about him behind his back. Fuck.

Then, as if he was summoned by the force of your mind, Mattheo Riddle gave a brief knock and presented himself in the doorway. A smile pulled its way across your face at the appearance of the dark boy. You waved him over and gave a small pat to the space beside you.

“Hey,” he said, sliding himself beside you.  

“What’s up?” He kicks his shoes off and props his feet onto the bed, one resting comfortably over the other.

“Nothing much. I was just coming to see if you knew what was up with Theo today?” he asked, crossing his hands over his stomach.

“Actually, I was just thinking of coming to ask you or Enzo that,” you admit. “I have no idea what happened today. We didn’t talk the rest of the day.”

“Weird…” Mattheo trailed off. There were a few moments of empty silence as the two of you rested against your headboard, basking in each other’s company. After a while, his arm came up to slide around your shoulders. You slid closer to him and rested a head on his shoulder, the collar of his shirt gently tickling your nose. 

If you could remain like this for the rest of forever, you would. Mattheo had always been like another brother to you. Another overprotective Enzo to watch over you in everything you did, and, as annoying as that sounded (and sometimes was), you really did appreciate having them around you. You enjoyed Theo in that way, as well, though you admit that you wish something more would bloom between the two of you. A thought pops into your head.

“Matty,” you breathe, your eyes widening significantly. His eyes follow yours to see if he could catch what had shocked you so much.

“What?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“If I ask you for the hugest favor on earth, would you do it?”

“Well, that is kind of vague,” he points out, “what is the favor?” He watches you for a few moments as you struggle with what to say. A million details are running through your head, with possibilities and worst-case scenarios flashing around, making everything seem like one big, jumbled mess in your brain. But, despite the cacophony of opportunities flying around in your head, one thesis stood clear.

“Would you help me make Theo jealous?” you ask. Mattheo choked on his spit. The face he gives you makes you laugh out loud.

“I’m sorry?” he asks.

“I want you to help me make Theo jealous, like, you know, pretend to date me for a few days.” 

“Are you joking? Theo would kill me. I’m not risking that!” he exclaims, removing his arm from behind you to cross them. 

“Please, Matty, I’d never ask you for another favor again!”

“No! He already likes you. Why don’t you just ask him out?” he asks. You knew that Theo had feelings for you, just as he knew you had feelings for him, but hearing Mattheo confirm that aloud had you blushing. You supposed there was always the possibility you were wrong about Theo liking you and the two of you were just friends, but friends didn’t look at each other like the two of you did with eyes full of longing and hot lust. 

“Because I’m too nervous. I want him to make the first move,” you explain. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. A deep sigh pushed through his nose as he appeared to be contemplating. You waited in silence for a few moments, allowing him to weigh his options, though you knew what his answer would be. He never told you no.

“Alright—” 

“Yes! Oh, thank you, thank you! I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He groaned at the sudden weight flung over him and reluctantly held you back. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes but, no matter how close he got to Theo, he’d always had a soft spot for you. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Okay, okay, back up,” he sighed. “How do we do it?” 

“So, this was my plan…” 

You went over every detail of the well-thought-out plan you’d devised over the last few hours, making sure to leave nothing out. Every few moments, Mattheo’s eyebrows would raise, or he would start to protest, but he never backed out. And if he tried to, you’d just beg him some more.

So once you’d gone over everything successfully, you had Mattheo lead you downstairs with your fingers intertwined together. This had to work. 

The two of you stalked into the Great Hall, your stomach churning with anxiety and Mattheo’s preparing himself to run if needed. Your fingers squeezed his every so often, trying to wring the nerves out but failing miserably. Your eyes landed on the group sitting at your table and you made your way over.

“Hey, guys…” Enzo started and trailed off as his eyes traced the two of you, falling to where the two of you met in the middle. At Enzo’s sudden silence, Theo turned to look at the two of you. Your intertwined fingers clenched tightly, Mattheo’s thumb lightly tracing yours. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling sweetly. You avoided all eye contact as the two of you sat down beside Enzo, with you directly across from Theo. Mattheo’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and you leaned into him. Still, you refused to look at Theo, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see his eyes widened and lips slightly parted. 

“Friendly tonight, are we?” Enzo asked, stabbing a bit of potato with his fork. He seemed to be hiding a smile. You shot him a knowing glance.

“Shut up,” you joke. “We’ve just…”

“Gotten a bit closer?” Mattheo pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you giggled in response. Damn, this acting deserved an award. You glanced at Theo's fist tightening, joints cracking slightly.

“Since when?” he asked, his voice baring through gritted teeth. Your eyes found him finally and your smile dropped a bit.

“Since he asked me out earlier today,” you retorted, the attitude laid on just a bit. His lips snapped shut and his eyes glanced away. He seemed less confident now, because—you hoped—he’d figured out your irritation with his refusal to move forward with your relationship.

“So, are you guys a thing now?” Enzo asked, not bothered in the slightest.

“You could call us that,” you giggled, fake-teasing Mattheo. Nerves broiled in your stomach as you discreetly pinched his hip. That had been the code the two of you had come up with to signal when you were going to do your kiss. This was going to be the big sale and it had to be realistic.

He leaned down and gently cupped your bottom lip with his, sending a wave of butterflies to your stomach. Damn, he was a good kisser. You pressed your lips back into him, admiring the feel of him. In all reality, the kiss only lasted about five seconds, but under the heat of the eyes before you, it felt like hours. When he pulled away, you flashed him a small smile.

Theo rose quickly and headed to the door, never once looking back. This has been the second time in one day he’d stormed off and you felt a bit embarrassed, to be honest. Maybe this wasn’t going to have the desired effect. You groaned and set your head against the table.

“Not working out for you?” Enzo chuckled.

“Shut up!” you shouted into your arms, the sound muffled. 

“You know…” Mattheo was right at your ear. You glanced up at him, tilting your head to the side. “You’re a pretty good kisser.” A smirk spread across his lips. You blushed

“Ugh, stop, Matty…you’re a good kisser too.” The three of you burst out laughing, reveling in the appreciation of each other’s company, before remembering why you were here. You really didn’t want to continue with this, it made you feel guilty, and there was always the chance this wouldn’t work. You sighed. You would have to go big or go home, and you weren’t a quitter.

xxx 

The next morning was a Saturday and Mattheo and you had planned a fake picnic date by the Whomping Willow. The plan was to enjoy a meal right within sight of where Theo was going to toss a Quaffle around with a couple of his friends. This had to work or you risked ruining your relationship with Theo. You prayed that this would give him the confidence to approach you. 

The two of you set the blanket and snacks out, settling in and beginning to eat. Enzo said that he had overheard that Theo was going to head out around eleven. It was currently fifteen ‘till, so you figured it wouldn’t be too long. Or you hoped that, anyway.

“So, what if this doesn’t work?” Mattheo breaks the silence, nursing a small bottle of pumpkin juice. 

“I was just thinking about that,” you laughed nervously, “I don’t actually know. I’m hoping he won’t hate me, but I’m more concerned he will hate you too.”

“I’m not too concerned about that. It’s alright. I’m just happy to help.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything in return?” you ask, peeling the crust off your sandwich. 

“I’ll just hang onto the favor for a rainy day,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and laugh gently. 

Above the two of you, a group of four players on brooms soar over you. You gasp and scoot closer to Mattheo, getting into position. He wrapped his arm around you and started to pretend to joke about something with you. You glanced Theo watching the two of you every so often. He would look for only a few seconds before turning his head away when his friends called his name. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get hit in the head with the Quaffle (in which case, you’d laugh, but now wasn’t the time for that). 

“You know,” Mattheo started, “this is nice. We should do this more often.”

“What, have picnics?” you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. 

“Sure, if you want,” he chuckled. “I just meant the hanging out part. I feel like I only see you whenever your brother’s around.”

“Yeah, it’s almost like he’s my brother and I love him,” you laughed. He shook his head in an attempt to hide his smile, but soon enough, the both of you were laughing. His head was thrown back as it racked his body, and your hand gripped his shirt sleeve to steady yourself.

“Hey, I need to talk to you—” The two of you snapped out of your moment of comedy at the sound of a voice. Your eyes squinted against the sun slightly before making contact with Theo. Mattheo glanced over at you and shrugged his shoulders, urging you on with his hand. Theo reached down and offered you his hand, which you took and allowed him to pull you to your feet. He marched the two of you over to the nearest courtyard, never letting go of your hand. Your stomach flushed.

“Theo, what is—?” He pulled you to a stop behind one of the courtyard’s stone pillars. Your eyes found his; the only sound was the slight breeze and the gurgle of the fountain behind him. He glanced down to your lips, his breaths exiting in heavy pants. Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

“I have to ask you one question,” he said. You started to speak, but his thumb pressed gently against your bottom lip. “No, just wait one minute.”

His eyes fell to the ground between the two of you. It appeared that he was trying to figure out precisely what he wanted to say. His lips parted several times, the words of confession dancing along the edges of them. The frustration in his eyes set off an ache in your chest that you couldn’t suppress. You wanted to kiss him so bad, so bad, so bad. 

“One question…and then I’ll leave you alone,” he said. You nodded slowly. “Do you really like Mattheo? Is that why the two of you are together?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. That was definitely different from what you thought he was going to ask. You stuttered a few times before shutting your mouth. You didn’t know what to say. His eyes refused to leave yours, beckoning every inch of the truth out of you. He wanted to know if your feelings toward him were the same as his towards you. He fought the urge to reach out and press his lips against yours. Just one word, and he would. You sighed.

“No,” you confessed, “I don’t.” His stomach flipped. Yours did, too. You wanted to explain yourself, run through every detail of the plan devised between Mattheo and you but you were too ashamed. Luckily, he didn’t care why you were with Mattheo, other than you didn’t care for the boy as he previously thought you’d done. His hands slid easily along your cheeks, carefully tracing the soft skin there. He was testing the waters, wanting so badly to touch you and anticipating the possibility of a slap. 

“Can I ask one more question?” he whispered against your lips, the salty taste of his sweat dabbing against the tip of your tongue. You nodded breathlessly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your parted lips. You didn’t answer. You pressed your lips roughly to his, hearing the sharp intake of breath he took as his hands tightened around your head. He held you in place, pressing you against the stone pillar behind you. Your hands came up to wrap around his waist, clenching the material of his shirt beneath your fingers. His hands dropped to the front of you, pushing you tightly against the pillar, fingers curving against your hipbones. Fuck. You were such a coward; you should have done this ages ago. 

When the two of you finally parted, reluctantly choosing air over each other, you did nothing but stare at the other. Heavy pants left the two of you; your hands clutched the other’s bodies, leaving little space between the two of you. Neither of you had words. All he could think to do was fold you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you with a hold like a vice. Your head turned and tucked itself into his shoulder where it had rested so many times before. And through your contentedly parted eyes, you could distantly see Mattheo, on the picnic blanket, smugly raising his pumpkin juice bottle to the two of you.

[squid-with-five-eyes]

i like my art either very (tastefully) horny or not at all. miss me with that middle ground shit. weakass T-rated pg-13 "suggestive themes and revealing outfits" shit. if its a video game i should either be able to hand it to a second grader with a clean conscience or i should know which characters are canonically power bottoms. music? either i can listen to it with a priest or listen to it while homoerotically bonding over religious trauma. the shows and movies i watch are either with my family or im paralyzed in fear of them walking in during the wrong scene. if youre gonna commit to fuckin, do it fuckin well or fuckin not at all

[tmntkiseki]

Turtles & Turnips, a TMNT 2003-focused server, is now public!

Hey everyone! For those of you who wanted to join my Discord server, Turtles & Turnips, but were unable to due to the previous member cap being reached, I am happy to announce that the cap has been removed and invites for the server are now public!

Before you join, some important things to remember

Although this server is SFW with a hard PG-13/T rating, we ask that all members joining be at least 18 or older.

All discussions relating to tcest are banned (this includes discussions specifically for the purposes of complaining about it; I know, I dislike it too, but it's better to focus on the stuff you like rather than the stuff you don't.)

Although we expect most people joining to be fans of the 2003 series, you can join regardless of which iteration is your favorite: Mirage, 1987, Rise, IDW comics, etc. Anyone is welcome as long as they like TMNT and are respectful of the other members and their interests!

Also, when you join, please note that you will not be able to send messages right away until you have read through the list of rules found in the #rules channel and receive the "General" role by reacting with a checkmark to the Dyno bot message. This is to ensure that everyone knows what to expect when joining the server, as well as the consequences of failing to adhere to the server rules.

If all of that appeals to you, the invite link can be found right here! Hope to see you there!

[rorywritesjunk]

I have seen no other Who compares with you

Buggy decides you need your own 'look'. Rating: PG-13 to maybe a soft R. I can't help but write some suggestive stuff. Some being the keyword, nothing actually happens but a kiss or two. Warning: None. I know absolutely jack shit about makeup or greasepaint. A/N: Written from @sporadicthingcollection  suggestion! Thank you friend. And this is my third makeup related story and I had fun writing it as well because I wanted to keep it different from the other two. I also wrote this with LA!Buggy in mind specifically. Title comes from "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty.

“It’s all about the brand, babe.” Was what Buggy said before he forced you into the chair in front of his vanity. You wanted to protest, to insist that makeup really wasn’t your thing, but he wasn’t paying any attention at that point, too busy opening the drawers, pulling out several different trays of face paint. You eyed them suspiciously, not sure what the flashy clown captain had in mind for you.

“What brand?” You asked as he looked over the first one. “I mean, what are you planning to do to me, Buggy?”

He set the trays down before turning your chair to face the mirror. Hands on your shoulders, he leaned in with a grin. While you appreciated the makeup style he wore, it was not for you. The bones on his forehead and smudged red color around his mouth was something you liked on him but not you. However, you appreciated the glittery triangles around his eyes and how they accented the stormy color of his irises. 

You sighed in defeat and Buggy pressed a kiss to your cheek, dramatically smacking his lips against your skin with a loud MUWAH!

“First, gotta figure out your style.” Buggy said as he pulled away. “Can’t have you copying my look, of course, but maybe a look to complement it.” He spun you around in the chair so you faced him; he braced both hands on the arm rests as he leaned in towards you, your noses barely touching as he squinted, studying the features of your face. “You don’t really have a… gimmick.”

“What, warming the captain’s bed doesn’t count?” You asked, leaning towards him with a pout. This wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing. It wasn’t like he was insulting you, but Buggy was definitely dancing that fine line of you’re great, but- with how he was trying to figure out your makeup style, or the brand as he thought of it. 

His lips curled up into a smirk. He pulled back and reached over for a tray. Once the cover was removed, he grabbed a brush and looked over his color options. Looking at you once more, he took the tip of the makeup brush between his lips, his tongue wetting it as he twisted it slightly to get a pointed tip of the bristles. You couldn’t help but watch him do that with both a mild fascination and some level of arousal. Why is he using his mouth on the makeup brush when he could be using it on you?

He dragged the tip over a dark orange color, a shade you would see among the trees during autumn. Carefully, he raised the brush to your face, lightly moving the colorful tip from the corner of your mouth and to your cheeks, tracing a clockwise swirl on your skin. He repeated the action on your other cheek, though with a counter clockwise design. He bit his lip and tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he studied his work so far. Both sides looked even, which was important. He couldn’t have you running around with mismatched makeup after all. He had his reputation to think about. How would it look if someone on Buggy’s crew had poorly done makeup? 

He didn’t even want to think about it.

Nodding in approval to himself, he picked out a sparkly green shade next. You tried not to make a face, unsure where he was going to use that color. Your lips? Hopefully not because you had a feeling this little bonding moment you were having was going to end up with you on your knees in front of him and you really didn’t want to see him with a green dick at all. Around your eyes could work, the light would catch the glitter and make your eyes pop. Would he put it on your nose? He was sensitive about his own, and you doubted he would do anything to draw attention to your nose when he never wanted that kind of attention.

Buggy grabbed a different makeup brush, the tip going into his mouth once more before dragging it over the green color on the tray. Without a word he began dabbing it across your forehead, right above your eyebrows. You sat still for this, pleased that he was being gentle and that it wasn’t a stabbing motion you were half expecting from him. His brow furrowed and he shook his head, mumbling something before licking his thumb and wiping it over your forehead, trying to remove the green grease paint from your skin.

“No, no. I don’t like that look.” He said out loud with a sigh. “The orange swirls, yes, so maybe… leave the forehead alone. Accent the eyes and cheeks.” He crossed his arms, a hand lifting to rest on his chin thoughtfully as he studied your face with narrowed eyes. It was a little uncomfortable to be under such scrutiny, but he was the one doing all of this. You were just the canvas for his creativity at that point.

He reached out and tilted your chin up, eyes still narrowed as he concentrated. Instead, he took the first makeup brush and sucked on the tip once more, wincing at the bitter taste of the grease paint. You tried not to roll your eyes before reaching out to place your hand on his hip, tired of not touching him as he stood so close to you. He reached down to touch your hand, letting his fingers dance up your bare arm lightly before pulling away to resume his artistic creations on you. 

“Why don’t you have a glass of water or something for the brushes?” You asked as he ran the brush through the green grease paint once more. 

“Because I didn’t think that far ahead, babe.” Was his response as he handed the tray to you to hold. You took it as he took your head in his hands, tilting it back slowly as he stepped in between your legs. Okay, you saw no reason to complain now. You held the grease paint tray in one hand while the other hand stayed on his hip. He was close enough you could feel his breath on your face, but just out of reach you wouldn’t be able to lean up to kiss him without completely disrupting what he was doing, and while you loved teasing him and egging him on, you also knew when to back off. He was focused on your makeup and if you messed it up you may regret it because Buggy could be petty. He would hold off sex for as long as he was able to (only a day or so most likely) but you didn’t want to risk it.

From the corner of your eye, he tapped the brush lightly, leaving a trail of green dots along your skin and moving up to your temple. He seemed satisfied with the right side, so he repeated the pattern on your left side. Nodding and mumbling, “Yea, that’s exactly it” he dipped the brush into the green paint once more. He tilted your head again, leaning in closer as he started to draw a teardrop shape under your eye. It tickled just a bit and to your credit you didn’t budge, but when he tried to do the next eye you had to pull back just for a moment. 

“Babe.” He sighed as you reached up to carefully rub your skin. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”

“It tickles!” You whined at him. “And not in a good way.”

“I’m almost finished.” 

You pouted at him again and he rolled his eyes. The novelty was wearing off, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep indulging this much longer. He pulled back and sighed loudly, dropping his arms to the side as he looked down at you.

“Let me finish what I’ve started and we’ll do something you want after.” He offered. “I’m almost done, so let me finish.”

“Whatever I want?” No longer pouting, you now grinned up at him, a twinkle in your eye that told him you already had an idea of what you wanted to do, and he knew that once he was done with your makeup, it was going to end up smeared across the bedsheets and pillows. 

“Yes, whatever you want.” He retorted as he tilted your head back once more. “Now stop moving or else.”

“Mhm, that’s what you said last night.” You said cheekily. He glared down at you before touching the brush to your skin again. He took his time, wanting to ensure the teardrop matched its mate. He set the brush down and studied your face, his hand on your chin as he turned your head from side to side, making sure it was perfect.

“Getting there.” He muttered as he reached for the red lipstick now. Oh, no, was he going to use it on you? You tried to pull back but he gave your chin a squeeze. “No, you’re almost done. Another few minutes.”

You let out a whine before sinking back into the chair. He touched the pointed tip of the red pigment to the curve of your upper lip, tracing the shape carefully before ending at the corner of your mouth. He hummed in appreciation as he did the other side, admiring how the red popped with the orange on your cheeks and the green around your eyes. He had wanted your look to complement his, not be a copy, so when he applied the lipstick to your bottom lip, it took every ounce of strength not to smear the lipstick around your face like how he wore his. 

Except you were growing impatient. The second he pulled the lipstick away you reached for him and pulled him down, your lips on his as you kissed him. He managed to pull back, sighing in mild frustration as he brushed his thumb over your lower lip.

“You’re going to ruin all my hard work, babe.” He said with a pout. “I like what I started.”

“Okay, but how about we take a break and start something else?” You suggested as you reached for the front of his pants, grinning up at him. The lipstick was smeared around your mouth, no doubt around his as well, but the orange swirls and green dots were starting to work for you. Maybe lipstick wasn’t the look for you, but he had time to think of alternatives.

“Mhm, I suppose, but we aren’t done yet.” He chuckled softly. “Gives me some time to think of other ideas for you.” He reached down, his hand cupping your face as his thumb went back to your lips. You parted your lips just enough for him to push it into your mouth, earning a sigh from your captain as he closed his eyes. “I’m going to give myself plenty of time to think.”