#shoves bad jokes into the meter

[chongoblog]

This old man. He played four

He man door hand hook car door

With a knick knack paddywhack, give a dog a bone

My dad’s dead then who was phone

[wethotcrazy]

ON A RANDOM TEUSDAY NIGHT

pairing: Ollie Bearman x F1 Academy Driver! Reader

word count: 1792

this was just super cute in my head i hope you guys think so too.

Ollie Bearman stood in the bustling paddock, his helmet dangling loosely from his hand. The familiar roar of engines and the acrid smell of tires burning against asphalt filled the air, but his mind was far from the track. His gaze lingered on her—YN, who stood a few meters away, animatedly chatting with one of their mechanics. Her laughter carried over the noise, light and carefree, and Ollie felt the now-familiar tightening in his chest.

She’d always had that effect on him. From the very first time he met her on a karting track years ago, her fiery determination and quick wit had captivated him. Back then, they were just kids with big dreams and even bigger egos, battling it out for podiums. He wasn’t sure when his competitive admiration had turned into something deeper. Maybe it was the way she celebrated her victories with unrestrained joy or the way she consoled him after a bad race without a hint of condescension. Whatever it was, it had only grown stronger as they climbed through the ranks together.

And now, as he prepared to step into Formula 1 with a rookie seat for Haas and YN geared up for her debut in the Formula 1 Academy, Ollie realized he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was in love with her.

“Bearman, you’re staring again,” a familiar voice teased. Ollie jolted out of his thoughts to see his Prema teammate, Fred, smirking at him.

“Am not,” Ollie muttered, his ears turning red.

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, mate. Just try not to make it too obvious. You’re like a puppy following her around.”

Ollie groaned, shoving Fred lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t worry. She probably thinks you’re just being your usual, annoyingly nice self,” Fred added with a grin.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? YN did think he was just being nice. She’d always been oblivious to the way his heart raced whenever she smiled at him or how he fumbled his words around her. To her, Ollie was just a good friend, someone she could count on in this cutthroat world of motorsport.

“Earth to Ollie,” YN’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized she was suddenly right in front of him, her helmet tucked under her arm.

“Uh, hey!” he said, a little too quickly.

“You ready for the simulator session, or are you too busy zoning out?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Ollie tried to play it cool, shrugging. “I was just... mentally preparing. You know, visualization.”

“Right.” YN smirked, clearly not buying it. “Well, if your visualization involves staring off into space, I think I’m safe to beat you again.”

He laughed, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the team’s trailer. It was moments like these that Ollie cherished the most—easy banter, shared jokes, the kind of connection that came from years of friendship.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

As they settled into the simulator room, YN shot him a competitive grin. “Ready to lose?”

Ollie grinned back, masking the butterflies in his stomach. “Not a chance.”

The session flew by, with both of them trading times and trash talk. By the end, YN had edged him out by a mere tenth of a second, and she celebrated with a dramatic fist pump.

“Admit it, Bearman. I’m just better,” she said, her cheeks flushed from excitement.

“Luck,” he retorted, though his grin betrayed him.

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” she shot back, ruffling his hair as she walked past him.

It was such a simple, casual gesture, but Ollie’s heart skipped a beat. He watched her leave, his resolve hardening. He couldn’t keep pretending that he was okay with just being her friend.

“Hey, YN,” he called out, his voice stopping her in her tracks. She turned, tilting her head curiously.

“What’s up?”

Ollie hesitated for a fraction of a second, the words on the tip of his tongue. I like you. I’ve liked you for years.

But all he managed was, “Good luck with the F1 Academy test next week. You’re going to crush it.”

Her face lit up with a smile, and she walked back toward him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, Ollie. That means a lot.”

As she walked away again, he let out a frustrated sigh. Fred’s words echoed in his mind—a puppy following her around.

He needed to tell her. Soon. Before they both raced off into their separate futures. Before it was too late.

But for now, he could only watch her walk away, his heart pounding in time with the hum of the engines around them.

Ollie Bearman had a problem—a persistent, heart-thumping, words-stuck-in-his-throat kind of problem. And her name was YN.

Over the years, he’d tried everything to tell her how he felt. Subtle hints, not-so-subtle hints, moments that felt perfect in his head but fell apart the second they happened. It wasn’t for lack of trying; Ollie just seemed to have a knack for sabotaging himself whenever the opportunity arose.

There was the time he invited her to a supposedly "quiet dinner" after a long day at the track. He’d booked a cozy Italian restaurant, the kind of place with soft lighting and tiny tables meant for whispered conversations. YN had walked in, all smiles and obliviousness, and promptly started chatting about strategy for their next race. Before Ollie could steer the conversation toward his feelings, Fred and two other teammates had “coincidentally” shown up, loudly ordering pizza and plopping themselves down at their table. Ollie had glared at them, but YN didn’t seem to mind the sudden crowd, laughing and joking like it was the best night ever.

Then there was the time he suggested they “explore the city” during an off weekend. He’d imagined them walking along quiet streets, maybe even holding hands if he was brave enough. But YN had turned it into a full-blown sightseeing tour, complete with maps and recommendations from her social media followers. By the end of the day, they’d been joined by a group of fans who recognized them, and Ollie had spent the evening taking photos instead of confessing his feelings.

Even his teammates were in on it now. Fred and the others took every opportunity to drop hints.

“YN, you know Ollie’s been talking about you all week,” Fred had said one afternoon, not-so-discreetly winking at Ollie.

“Oh, yeah?” YN replied, raising an eyebrow at Ollie.

He’d panicked, blurting out, “Just about how fast you’ve gotten recently!”

Fred had rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head.

It all came to a head on a random Tuesday night. Ollie hadn’t planned anything special; he was just dropping by YN’s flat with Chinese takeout after they’d both had grueling days at the simulator. It was supposed to be a casual hangout, like so many they’d had before.

YN opened the door in sweatpants and a messy bun, her face lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said, grabbing the bags of food from his hands. “I’m starving.”

They sprawled out on her couch, cartons of noodles and spring rolls spread across the coffee table. The TV played softly in the background, though neither of them was paying much attention.

“So,” YN said between bites, “how’s F1 prep going? Ready to be a big shot?”

Ollie chuckled, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, it’s exciting. Nerve-wracking, but exciting.” He glanced at her, his stomach twisting. “What about you? Academy’s a big deal.”

She shrugged, brushing a stray noodle off her lap. “I’m excited, but it’s hard not to think about how different things will be. You in F1, me still working my way up. Feels like we’re finally splitting off after all these years.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. That was the last thing he wanted—to drift apart, to become just another chapter in each other’s racing stories.

He set down his carton, his appetite suddenly gone. “YN…”

She looked up, her brow furrowing. “What’s up?”

This was it. No more excuses, no more interruptions.

“I… I need to tell you something,” he said, his voice steady but his hands gripping his knees. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages, but I always chicken out or something gets in the way.”

Her expression softened, curiosity replacing confusion. “Okay. Tell me.”

Ollie took a deep breath, his heart hammering so loud he was sure she could hear it. “I like you. I’ve liked you since we were kids in karting. And it’s not just because we’ve spent so much time together or because you’re an amazing driver, though you are. It’s… it’s everything. The way you light up when you talk about something you love, the way you always make people around you feel like they belong. You’re kind, and fierce, and you make me feel like I can do anything just by being there.”

The words spilled out faster than he could think, but he didn’t stop. “And I know I’ve been awful at showing it, and you probably think I’m just your dumb, overly nice friend who brings you noodles and crashes your sightseeing trips, but I—”

“Wait,” YN interrupted, holding up a hand.

Ollie froze, his heart sinking. This is it. She’s going to tell me she doesn’t feel the same.

But instead of looking shocked or awkward, YN was… laughing. Not a mocking laugh, but a soft, incredulous one.

“Ollie,” she said, setting down her food and shifting closer to him. “You think I don’t know how much you care? I mean, sure, I thought you were just naturally sweet, but…” She trailed off, her cheeks tinged pink. “I guess I never thought you’d actually feel the same way I do.”

Ollie blinked. “Wait, what?”

YN smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made all the failed attempts and awkward moments worth it. “I like you too, you idiot.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, the weight of the unspoken finally lifted. Then Ollie broke into a grin so wide it hurt.

“So… does this mean I finally get to take you on a proper date?”

YN laughed, nudging his shoulder. “You mean not one that turns into a group hangout or a sightseeing tours?”

“Exactly.”

“Then yeah,” she said, her voice warm. “I’d like that.”

As the night wore on, the food grew cold, and the TV played forgotten in the background. But neither of them cared. For the first time, the words they’d left unsaid were finally out in the open, and everything else could wait.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How would Bronya and Seele be like with a S/o who has the mannerisms of a knight? Chivalrous, honorable and more than willing to rear his blade for the people!

(Bro would definitely have fought the IPC members)

(Honkai: Star Rail) Bronya and Seele's S/O acting like a knight

FOR CHIVLARY! FOR ZE (anime) LADY!

Bronya's heart honestly skips a beat whenever she sees S/O interact with anyone, be it a fellow Silvermane Guard or an Underworld denizen.

No matter what, they always were courteous to those around them, and never hesitating to draw their blade to protect others.

Even if it went against orders, their sense of justice was strong, sometimes stronger than hers.

Though sometimes their chivalrous ideals went...a bit too far in some regards.

For starters, they absolutely refused to use any ranged weapons, deeming it "unknightly."

(Bronya) "S/O, the target is at least a hundred meters away. Plus it's a trotter, not human-"

(S/O) "Then I will wait for them to approach, Bronya!"

Making her sigh and level her own rifle, drawing the gaze of S/O, disappointment in their eyes.

(S/O) "How am I supposed to gift my beloved a trophy, a sign of my undying love?"

Bronya blushed, mostly out of second-hand embarrassment that they said that aloud.

Which would not have been as bad, were it not for the other Silvermane guards awkwardly staring at each other.

(Bronya) "...Was that supposed to be a joke?"

(S/O) "...Um...would you believe me if I said yes?"

Her unamused stare shot S/O down, turning her attention back to the target after a painful amount of quiet.

(Bronya) "I'm going to shoot it now."

(S/O) "Y-Yes, dear..."

As far as Seele was concerned, anyone employing that much amount of pretentiousness could shove it up their ass.

Whether they be a princess (her best friend), or some pompous ass (her lover).

Seele is there to contrast against S/O's prim and proper attitude.

At least when push came to shove, they were willing to throw down.

But as for getting their hands dirty?

(S/O) "Seele! You just kicked that man in their genitals!"

(Seele) "Psh, so? They were asking for it!"

(S/O) "Be that as it may, it's...unsporting!"

(Seele) "How in the hell have you been down here this long and not fought like this once?"

(S/O) "Hah! They'd be a fool to attack a Silvermane knight!"

Crossing her arms, she eyed S/O up and down and scoffed.

(Seele) "If anything, that might give people even more of a reason to jump you."

(S/O) "Then pray tell, Seele, what does that make you for having one as your significant other?"

(Seele) "Listen, can you just...not talk like that for a couple minutes at least?"

(S/O) "I talk how I am raised to, Seele. I certainly don't question your choice in phrasing!"

(Seele) "But you're judging how I fight-"

(S/O) "Oh for the love of-Next time just beat them with your weapon, not your tricks!"

(Seele) "So giving them a concussion is better, but hitting them in the nuts is out of bounds?"

This exchange went on for a while, while the perpetrator they were fighting crawled away in pain.

[bloatedandalone04]

Done Right

➪the one where you and hayden get back to your unfinished business.

Part 2 of Open Invitation,

Warnings: unprotected sex, smut, fluff, swearing, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling

Word Count: 4.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine♡

The houses passed by in a blur, the speed meter seeming to not exist for the entire drive home. The constant ache and strain Hayden felt in his jeans was too much of a distraction for him to care about how fast he was going. 

Even the lack of music coming from the radio did absolutely nothing to calm his racing heart. He had turned it off completely in hopes that the silence would keep him focused on driving, but it did the exact opposite. With the car being silent, he was left to remember the way you sounded when you moaned on the phone earlier, and how you whimpered when he went down on you this morning. 

He glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was nearing twelve in the morning. Hayden was glad that he had managed to get through the rest of filming and didn’t have to reshoot anything, but he was also frustrated that he wouldn’t get long with you before he had to return to set in about seven hours. 

Hayden would be exhausted by the time he was called onto set, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes and relax his body until he brought you to that sweet release he knows you both have been craving all day. 

He felt awful when he couldn’t finish what he started and had to leave you before properly waking you up in the way he wanted to. Though, after your teasing phone call earlier, while he was at work, he didn’t feel as bad as before. 

It was considered a miracle that he made it home in one piece. Hayden barely had the car turned off before he was making his way up the small path that led to the front porch. He had a hard time concentrating on unlocking the door, and he was both grateful and frustrated that you hadn’t bothered to unlock it for him after he left this morning. 

You lived in a good neighborhood, so he wasn’t worried about leaving it unlocked when he left, but he also preferred to know that you were safe at all times when he wasn’t there. Hence why he had made sure to lock it as he left for work this morning, something he was seriously regretting now as he gave the door a harsh shove before it swung open.

As he stumbled into the house, his eyes met yours almost immediately. You were sitting on the stairs, directly in the middle as you watched him struggle to open the door with a teasing smile on your lips. 

You slowly stood up as he closed the door behind him, his hand reaching behind him to blindly turn the lock as he kept his eyes on you. “Welcome home,” you say quietly, knowing how quickly he got turned on when you used that tone. 

Your words, like you had expected them to, had him groaning quietly as he made his way over to you in three strides. You had stepped down a few of the stairs and was now only a few inches taller than him, making you the perfect height as he finally reached you and lifted his head just slightly to be able to press his lips to yours. 

A sigh of relief left him as his hands snaked around your waist and tugged you forward until your chest was pressed against his. “Baby,” he mumbled against your mouth and you refrained from moaning at how desperate he sounded and how good his hands felt on your body. 

You were wearing one of your favorite shirts, a black t-shirt that had an image of Luke Skywalker fighting Darth Vader, along with the words ‘I’m Married to Darth Vader’. When you saw it at a local thrift shop, you knew you had to get it. Turns out, it was one of Hayden’s favorite things on you as well, as it was an inside joke between the two of you. 

If he was being completely honest, he thought you looked hottest like this when compared to any of the lingerie you own, not that he’d ever compare you in any way. He’s always found your casual outfits unbelievably attractive, but then again, he found you attractive all the time. 

You let your hands trail up his body and squeeze his shoulders before reaching up to knock his hat off his head. He had placed it on backwards after leaving the set so he would have easier access to you without the brim being in the way, but he was also more than happy to shred the article if it meant he got to feel your hands tugging on his hair, just like they did this morning. 

Your hands, mixed with the hat, had successfully messed up the neat style that his character had, and Hayden groaned against your mouth. “I missed you,” he mumbled against your lips and felt you grin. “So much.”

“Not nearly as much as I missed you,” 

He groaned again when he lifted the shirt you wore up a bit so he could feel your soft skin. “I find that hard to believe,” 

You hummed, tugging at the chain he wore underneath his shirt until it snapped open. You pulled the chain free and slid off his wedding band, lifting his left hand and slipping it back on his finger. Hayden always kept his ring on him when he was filming, whether that be on a chain under his shirt or in his pocket. 

It felt wrong to take it off, let alone keep it at home when he was away filming. 

“I wonder what I will find that’s hard,” you tease and trial a hand back down his chest, pausing just above his jeans. Your thumb runs along the zipper, and you feel him involuntarily buck into your hand.

Hayden groans as you slip your hand into his jeans and tease your fingers along him. “You and I both know what you will find,” he mutters and you grin, pulling your face away from his.

“I could always get you all worked up then leave before you get to come,” you shrugged and pulled away from him entirely, turning and quickly making your way up the stairs.

Hayden was left to stand there in shock as he watched you enter the bedroom. It only took him three seconds before he was bolting after you, nearly tripping on the last step as he went. 

He enters the room and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he meets your eyes. You were propped up on your elbows on the bed, one leg bent at the knee and making your shin cover your most private part from his view. 

You tilt your head and a smirk forms on your lips when his jaw clenched as he watches you lean further back. The stretch causes your shirt to rise and expose the skin of your stomach, and he was crossing the room within seconds. 

His hands wrap around your ankles and he tugs you back down to the edge of the bed with a single pull. His strength caught you off guard, and it turned you on, like it always did. 

You bite your lip as he trails his hands up your thighs and pushes your shirt further up, exposing the pink lace that covered your core from him. The same pink lace that you had on in the photo you sent him hours ago. 

He groaned loudly as he crawled over you and settled himself between your thighs. His lips press a chaste kiss to yours before moving down to your neck and peppering your skin with open mouthed kisses. 

You sigh and turn your head to give him better access, your eyes landing on the clock that showed just how late it was. 

12:32 AM.

But Hayden showed no signs of stopping or speeding up, and you knew he was going to take his time with you, his sleep schedule being the last thing on his mind. 

This was going to be a long night, you could tell from the way he sucked and kissed the skin of your neck without rushing. He runs his lips over your collar bone and nudges the shirt a bit higher, exposing more and more of your chest to his lust filled eyes. 

Suddenly your shirt was off and discarded on the hardwood floor of the bedroom, leaving you only in the scrap of pink fabric that was getting more and more damp as the seconds went on. “You have no idea how difficult it was for me to have to pretend I wasn’t hard on set today,”

His words, the filthy ones they were, had you whining quietly, desperate to hear more while also needing him to speed up the pace. 

“I take full credit for that,” you say and bite your lip when his mouth trails down your chest and in between your breasts. His hands grab at the flesh as his lips descend even further, licking and kissing all over the smooth skin of your abdomen. 

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?” He mutters as he hovers his mouth over your core and kneels on the floor. “Just like how you wouldn’t let me forget how I had to leave you this morning after getting you so close to coming.”

Your breath hitches as he presses a kiss to your fabric covered hip, refraining from bucking up and towards his awaiting mouth. 

“Getting me all worked up when you knew I felt awful about having to leave early,” he continued, lifting his gaze so he was looking right up at you. “Makes me question if you even deserve to have me pick up where I left off.”

Your eyes widen at that. “What? What do you mean by that?”

Hayden hums as he trails his index finger along the lace trim of your lingerie bottoms. “You tell me,”

His touch was feather light and not enough to satisfy the burning desire you’ve been feeling all day. “No,” you whisper and watch as one corner of his mouth turns upwards. “No, please. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m sorry for teasing you, but I just needed you so badly.”

He sticks his lower lip out in a pout. “I know,” he murmurs and presses a chaste kiss to your covered clit, making you gasp slightly when he continues, “I know, baby. I’m sorry for not getting you off before I left. I wanted to….wanted to taste you for hours.”

Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head at how deep his voice had gotten since he returned home. How he managed to be so effortlessly hot all the time, you had no idea. 

“Maybe I’ll let you get away with it this time,” he mumbled and you eagerly lifted your hips when he began to tug the last remaining article of clothing down your legs. It drops to the floor as well, and you didn’t get the chance to wince at the cool air that fanned over your core before he was leaning in and licking a flat stripe up your folds. 

“Fuck,” you moaned as soon as you felt his mouth on you. 

Hayden wasted no time at all, quickly resuming where he had left off this morning, and wrapped his lips around your clit. Your hips lifted involuntarily as he sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth without working you up to it, your legs already beginning to shake at the overwhelming and sudden jolt of pleasure that shot through your body. 

He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, his eyes casting upwards to watch your upper body fall against the bed. With a proud smirk, he leaned further down and devoured your core like he was starving. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wished he got you off this morning. Going down on you was one of his favorite ways to make you come, so the fact that he was so close to doing so but had to stop at the last second was his motivation to get you there again as soon as possible. 

“Hayden,” you moaned his name, titling your head further back into the bed. You were so relieved to have the feeling of his mouth back on you after it had been ripped away from you over twelve hours ago. 

Like you expected, the way you said his name, in that breathless and needy voice, had him groaning against your core. The vibration had you gasping slightly, your ring-clad hand reaching down to tangle in his dark hair. 

“So good,” you whined quietly and spared a look down at him, finding him already looking at you. His blue eyes have darkened considerably in the short amount of time he’s been home, and you were brought back to this morning for a second, when he looked at you in the exact same way he was looking at you right now. “You’re so hot.”

And he really is; still fully dressed in the clothes he threw on this morning in his rush to leave, and going down on you within seconds of returning home.

Hayden laughed against you, making your stomach clench at both the sound and feeling, before he began to fuck his tongue in and out of you. 

You were so worked up from before, and you had been turned on for pretty much the entire day, so you really weren’t expecting to last too long at this point. 

Usually, Hayden goes slow at first to work you up to your high, then speeds up once you seemed ready for him to do so. He likes to try and prolong this as much as he can, simply because he absolutely loves going down on you and tasting the sweetness that only belonged to you. 

Not tonight. 

He was determined to get you off as quick as he could, so he can do it again, and then one more time before giving you both a rest and falling asleep. 

Hayden glanced up at you and groaned at the sight of your brows furrowed and your teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I can’t believe the prettiest woman in the world is my wife,” he had to say. 

You let out a surprised laugh and lift your head to look down at him. “You would say something sweet at a time like this,”

He grinned, “I can’t help it,” he hummed, dragging his lips back up your slit and making your whole body shudder. “You’re just so pretty all the time.”

You were briefly brought back to when you and Hayden first got together, and he would compliment you at the most random times. He still did it, but in more appropriate settings, like when you got yourself all dolled up before going out to dinner, or whenever you tried on new lingerie for him, or when you and he found the time to have a lazy day and you’d end up going makeup free. 

“When did you become such a flirt?” You find your voice to ask. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Since you decided to call me while I was at work and act all needy,”

His words shut you up again, and he just grinned up at you before leaning back down and sucking your clit into his mouth. 

The sudden stimulation had you dropping back down onto the bed and letting out a cry of his name, your hand tugging on his hair as you came unexpectedly. 

His tongue shot out to clean up any evidence of your high, the muscle rubbing against your sensitive clit and making you jolt upright. You weren’t used to being overstimulated so quickly after an orgasm, but Hayden wasn’t letting up. 

He seemed persistent to prolong the pleasure that coursed through your body, and you had no choice but to lift your hips up against his mouth as you felt another knot forming a mere few seconds later. 

Hayden pulled away from your core and crawled back up your body, keeping you stimulated by slipping his right middle and index fingers into you. He braces himself on his forearm next to your head and leans down to press a messy kiss to your mouth. 

You moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. “I missed you so much today,” you nearly whispered against his lips. 

His fingers continued to fuck into you at a slow pace, his thumb now beginning to rub soft circles against your swollen clit. “I missed you, too, baby,” he murmured and took pride in the small whimpers you let out against his lips. “I wanted to spend all day in bed with you, just like this.”

You moaned a bit louder at that. “I need you,” you whined as you lifted your hips to grind against his hand. 

“I know. I need you, too,” he promised as he began kissing your neck. “But I’m going to get you off with my fingers before giving you the real thing. Gotta make up for lost time.”

You involuntarily clench around his digits, and couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed at the way your walls sucked them in deeper. A few more thrusts of his hand had you coming for the second time, much quicker than the first as you had been continuously stimulated since he stepped foot into the bedroom. 

His fingers ride you through your high, before pulling out when he caught sight of the way your legs were shaking. Your core, though relieved to be receiving a bit of a break, clenched around nothing as you watched him slide his fingers into his mouth and clean up every last drop you had spilled on them. 

“Fuck,” you huffed out, bringing your hands up to run through your disheveled hair. Hayden laughed as he reached behind him to pull off the black t-shirt he was wearing, keeping eye contact with you as he let the fabric drop to the floor. “Fuck.”

“Is that all you can say right now?” He asked as he popped open the button on his jeans and slowly slid the zipper down. 

The teasing tone he was using had you squeezing your thighs shut as you stared up at him. “No,” you muttered, fisting the comforter under you.

“No?” He asked, tugging the jeans down just enough to expose the lining of his black boxer briefs. He kneeled on the bed again, kicking off his converse as he leaned down to press a kiss to your thigh, and then your hip. Within seconds, his arms were tucked under yours as he pulled you further up on the bed, and you gasped quietly as your head hit the pillows. “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

You whimper as he settles his hips against yours and wraps your thighs around his waist. “Please,” you mumble against his mouth when he leaned down to press his lips to yours. “Please, please, fuck me, Hayden.”

He must’ve really gotten you worked up if you’ve turned to begging. It wasn’t often you found yourself begging for him to do anything to you, but you were needy and turned on and craving the feeling of him being buried so deep inside you, his words he said on the phone earlier making you want to keep him in bed with you forever. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he tugged at the rough edge of his jeans. “You want me to?”

“Please, I need it,” you moaned as he pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You said you’d do anything to be buried inside me earlier on the phone. Does that offer still stand now that you’re back home?”

Hayden muttered something under his breath as he pulled away from you to fumble with his jeans again. “You know it does,”

You turn to look at the clock once more, seeing that it had been nearly an hour since he returned home, and nearly an hour since he’d been so adamant on getting you off in all the ways he could. 

“Well, then. What are you waiting for?” You ask as you pull him free from his jeans, leaving them to stay constricted around hips as you wrap your hand around him. You gave him a harsh tug that had him releasing a quiet groan, before leaning up so your lips were next to his ear. “Fuck me like you promised you would.”

And, really, that was all he needed. 

Not even a second passed before he was pinning you under him by your wrists and sliding himself into your inviting walls. The both of you let out sounds of relief at the feeling of one another, and you wrap your legs tighter around his hips when he bottoms out. 

“Finally,” he groaned once his hips were pressed to yours. Finally back where he belongs. “I missed this.”

It felt like it had been months since he had been inside you, when in reality it had only been a couple of weeks, but he had been so on edge all day that he felt so relieved to have you wrapped around him. 

“So good,” he muttered as he gave a sharp thrust of his hips, making a broken moan escape your mouth. “So good, pretty girl.”

You hummed and tipped your head back against the pillows, your hands reaching up to grasp his biceps. “Hayden,” you moaned when he began to slowly thrust into you. “Don’t be gentle with me, I need you, need it hard.”

Like you expected, your words spur him on and his slow thrusts were replaced with sharp and hard fucks. 

With how stimulated you already were, and how turned on he had been all day long, it was obvious this wouldn’t last as long as it usually did without the teasing and previous orgasms, but neither of you cared.

His hips hit yours with a brutal force, one that has you squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into the skin of his arms. Hayden grunted at the sting from your nails, but he couldn’t deny the pleasure he got from it as well. “That’s right, baby,” he muttered. “Mark me up. Maybe then they’ll understand why I was so pissed off when I got to set this morning after being told I had to leave you.” 

You moan loudly at his words, arching your back as your nails dug deeper into his skin and marked him up like he praised you to do. “Fuck, Hayden,” 

Since your eyes were still closed, you felt his lips against yours before you were able to see him lean down and kiss you. His teeth knocked against yours every time he slid back into you, your tongues meshing against each other. 

Your walls sucked him in deeper, your body desperate to feel every inch of him as he reached down to grip your knee and wrap your leg tighter around his waist. 

The slight change in position had him reaching even deeper into you, and his hips stuttered when you clenched around him. The lewd sounds of your heat greedily taking him fueled him to resume the fast pace from before, and he began railing into you in a way that had you crying out against his mouth.

Your lips broke away from his and you instead latched your mouth onto his neck, sucking his skin so hard you knew there would be a pretty dark patch there by the time he was set to leave again in a few hours. 

Hayden usually tried to keep his skin and body pretty spotless whenever he was in the middle of filming something, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care about the extra time he’d have to spend in the makeup chair so they could cover up your markings on him. If anything, it only turned him on more, if that was even possible at this point. 

It would also further get the point across that this was what he was missing out on when he was called to set, this was what he was robbed of on his so called ‘day off’ with you. 

Keeping one hand pinned next to your head, Hayden trailed his other down until his index finger was rubbing quick circles onto your throbbing clit, the poor bundle of nerves beyond spent at this point, but it felt far too good for you to get him to stop now. 

“I love you,” he murmured directly into your ear, his voice deep and raspy as he kept your body pinned to his. 

You whimpered and clamped down around him as you felt your third orgasm of the night wash over you in waves. Broken moans left your mouth as you held onto him with a death grip, your whole body feeling far too sensitive for you to even function properly. 

As you shook slightly, Hayden began to pull out before he could even finish, asking, “Is it too much?”

But you just quickly shook your head and pulled him back against you, fastening your legs around his waist once again until he was situated back inside you. “No. I love you,” you barely managed to say, your body tensing up when he began to slowly rock back into you. “Want you to…inside me, please.”

Unprotected sex was not a new thing in your relationship, in fact, he had only ever used a condom maybe four times in the five years he’s been with you, so your request was not uncommon. It was actually what he usually did, but he thought you needed a break from it all, hence why he was content with getting himself off with his hand after your third time coming because of him. 

But, no. 

You begged him to finish inside you, and you took him like the perfect wife you are, your throbbing walls begging to be painted white by him.

It all became too much, and within seconds he was coming, just like you had asked him to, with the heel of your foot digging into his lower back until he reached the deepest part of you. 

His throaty groans had you writhing underneath him, your arms wrapping around his body when he all but collapsed against you. You ran your hands through his slightly damp hair as he lifted his head to glance at the clock, a quiet groan leaving his lips when he saw what time it was. “I need to be up and ready to leave in less than five hours,”

You grinned and peppered a few kisses along his neck. “But it was worth it, right?” You asked, still breathless from the events that just took place. 

Hayden was still buried to the brim inside you as he glanced down to see where the two of you connected. He bit down hard on his lip to stop the groan from tumbling out, before looking back up at your fucked out expression. “You’re always worth it,”

[bloodycherry22]

Your mine | Rick Grimes

Genre:smut.

Summary: Despite the large age gap, Rick can't help but want you, he holds back for months, until he grows tired of seeing younger men attempt to swoop you off your feet and he just needs you to know that you are his.

Warnings: Cussing, smut, age gap (legal, reader is in her 20s), rough sex, degrading, but also praise, crying. Season 3. Prison.

A/n: This requested by a lovely anon, apologies for the long wait. <3 Not proofread

Holy shit. He looked so good, down in the field, digging away at god knows what, sweating, sleeves rolled up to his forearms and hair falling messily over his forehead, dirt covering his hands as he tightly gripped at the metal shovel. He paused his digging and shoved the tool into the ground, leaning on it for a moment as he brushed over her forehead with his other forearm, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He looked worn, but good. Sure he was, what, early 40's? Who cares?

With a huff, you walked downstairs, being on watch, you stepped out of the watch tower and heard the door slam behind you, not extremely loud but loud enough for Rick to hear. When he turned to face you, you shot him a smile and he nodded, smiling back.

"You alright?" He asked, his southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine as you nodded happily. "Mhm, just gonna switch with Maggie" You said and he nodded, again, averting his gaze from your tight, long sleeve shirt and jeans. "Is the farm still growing well?" You asked and he chuckled lightly. "Why yes, yes it is" He stated, his hand combing through his light beard.

You laughed a little and nodded, walking away, feeling his gaze burn into you. He couldn't keep his eyes off you, god he barely got any work done just knowing you were in the watch tower, and when you spark random conversations with him, it reminds him just how much younger and full of life you are compared to him, he wanted you so bad but his morals just wouldn't let him have you and it drove him mad.

He watched you walk back into the prison, completely stared, gazed shamelessly, watched as some of the other men working took a glance as well, just enhancing his burning desire for you. The annoying things being, most of the men who had joined the group recently were your age, early to late 20's. He didn't realize that you had no issue at all with the age gap, if anything you liked that he was older. Either way, for months now, you had shot him signals and he just hadn't reacted.

Like the time you purposely sat with him at night in the prison when you first arrived, before cell blocks were cleared, and it was just the group. You chose to sit directly next to him multiple times, he would work at clearing the prison almost all day and his free time was spent talking to you, not even a meter away and he saw it as friendly.

Or like when you asked him to help you untangle your two necklaces, he stood inches away from you, your breath hitting his chest as you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. His hands working with the fragile metal on your collarbone, his eyes focused on it as he licked his lips, his fingers occasionally brushing over your skin, making your skin prick in pure need for him yet, nothing. When he untangled them he stepped back and ruffled your hair gently before getting back to work.

Or, again, like the time when you were helping him plant some seeds, both of you kneeling in the dirt and sweaty. When Daryl made some dirty joke about the both of you that shouldn't be repeated, Rick laughed it off and said nothing about it while you were starstruck.

Yet to him, these moments were torture, he loved spending time with you yet the more he did the harder it was to not kiss you right there and then. Fuck, how badly he wanted to kiss you when he was untangling them stupid necklaces, silly little ploy for attention, he wasn't dumb but he also didn't mind.

However, something was different today, he wanted to see you more than usual, enough to make him want to take a break from work which was a near impossible thing to happen, but he didn't know why. That was until he stepped into the prison building and couldn't see you anywhere. He raised a brow and walked towards a busier area, where more people gathered to eat and drink, various families and people around, he could see Daryl, leaning on the wall and talking to Carol, he could see a couple of the new people talking to Glenn, and then you.

He saw you, sat at a table with two other men and a girl he recognized enough to know he let them in but not enough to know their names. The man sat beside you appeared to be your age, and confident, he was leaning towards you and smiling a lot, he couldn't tell how you felt about the situation.

You didn't look uncomfortable? But he sure as hell didn't want some random guy having his way with you. Who is he to act like he owns you? Are you waving him over? Yes you are.

"Rick!" You smiled and waved your hand towards yourself, he clicked after a minute and began to walk over, making sure to hold himself high. He looked down at you and the others, sharing a small smile.

"Rick, i dunno if you met Jane, Tommy and Scott" You introduced the people at the table and he nodded at them. Scott. Scott spoke up "Sit down! We brought scotch, come on" He offered and you instantly sent him an apologetic look, usually he would instantly decline, but he didn't want this Scott guy to have you.

A little while passed, both you and Rick still held the same glasses of scotch, barely drinking, while Scott and Tommy had dank at least three each, Jane having left not long ago, making Rick even more sure he wasn't going to be leaving you alone anytime soon with two drunk men. He noticed that Scott had began to rest his hand on your shoulder and lean over you, his hands gripping the skin of your arm gently, hard enough to make ricks hand squeeze tightly around his glass.

You noticed the way Rick's knuckles turned white from the tense grip at the sight of you being touched and you wondered if this may finally be enough to break him. It was obvious he wasn't listening to a thing the other men were saying and neither were you, he was just staring at the hand on your arm, even when he took a swig of his drink, he didn't let it out of his sight.

Not until the men called him into the conversation, and he looked at Scott, his face showing no clear emotion behind it, but he still looked amazing, you didn't care that you were staring at him, who wouldn't. The sun had began to set and he had a perfect golden sheer over him, he looked older, but in the best way possible, in a way that made you have to lick your lips as they had gone dry in the time you had been thinking about him. He seemed to engage in some of the conversation, but he didn't seem as amused by it as they did.

Suddenly you were knocked out of your train of thought, a hand resting just above your knee, a feeling that was so rare nowadays it made you jolt just a little, only enough for Rick to notice. He raised a brow, looking at you in slight worry, his eyes gleaming with protection. Scott's hand sat on your thigh, not at an uncomfortable level, you could tell he wasn't trying to be weird, he was just making a move, the only problem being, you didn't wan't him too.

Rick's eyes traveled over you before landing on Scott's arm and putting the pieces together, he cleared his throat. "well, it's getting late..we both have early shifts tomorrow, right y/n?" He began and smiled at you, hoping the men would take the hint. Yet they protested and encouraged more drinking, Scott's hand squeezing your thigh a little in a way that had began to make you extremely uncomfortable, a way that made you subtly nudge Rick under the table and look at him, with the same, soft eyes as earlier.

He stared deeply at you for a moment, ignoring the males chattering before nodding and standing up, pulling you up and away from the man beside you as quick as he could. He muttered some excuse and with various disagreeing statements from the men and a few "Oh but we were having so much fun" you were able to leave.

Rick walked around he corner with you, heading to another cell block, his hand on your lower back, spread out so largely it made you suck in a breath. He stopped and looked around, it was the cellblock that shared most of the original groups cells, you smiled and looked at him "Thanks Rick, i mean he wasn't a creep but-"

"No, he was being creepy darlin', whether you admit or not" He snickered and looked down at you, his hand still on you, the nickname making your mind wander. You stared up at him, eyes flickering over his face, wandering from feature to feature, noticing the furrowing of his brows and the blue in his eyes, the shades of grey painting his beard. He pursed his lips and averted his gaze from you, you wanted him so bad, and he wanted you but he was holding back.

You placed your hand flat against his chest and he quickly looked back at you, a little shocked and confused. "Rick, I can't keep going like this"

"What do y-"

"You know what i mean, i want you too Rick, stop holding back" You complained, leaning closer and he stood in shock, his lips parted as he thought about what you were saying and how badly he wanted to take you right then and there. "Cmon Rick, I've been hinting for months, give me what i want Rick, make me yours" You whined and with a groan he kissed you, lucky that the area was empty. His hands landed on your waist and tugged you against his chest, your hands falling around his neck as he deeply kissed you, his lips stimulating your own as if they were ravening for you. The kiss was sultry and absent minded, your head was cloudy.

He hummed in pleasure before pulling back to look at you, faces inches away "you really want this? I don't think I'll ever want to stop" He stated, breathlessly and you nodded, lips feeling swollen as you bit down on them desperately. He was quick to pull you into his cell, instantly nudging you onto the bed as his knees hit the edge, he leaned over you, his arm resting to the side of you as his other hand trailed down your waist. He kissed you again, his large hand spreading over your ribcage and messing with the fabric of your shirt as he pressed his hips against yours.

He pulled back from the kiss just enough to leave small kisses don your jaw and neck until he reached the hemline of your shirt, tugging the material down enough with his fingers so he could reach enough skin to suck a light mark into it, humming a short "Scott can't do this" as he did so. A small whimpering laugh escaped you as your hips lifted to meet his desperately, you didn't give a shit about that guy, you wanted Rick.

He sat up slightly and looked at you, his fingers reaching under your shirt and carefully pulling it over your head, he seemed to pause as he looked over your body, thinking about how wrong it was for him to fuck you, but he really didn't care. His large hands splayed over your chest as peppered kisses down your collarbone, a quiet moan emitting from you in response. The sound honestly sending him crazy.

You gently slipped your hands down his chest, landing at the bottom of his shirt and tugging at it, smirking a little as he sat up once again to pull it off. Fuck he looked good, your hands trailed over his body, fingers fiddling with his belt buckle before he finished the job and pulled it off, smirking at you.

He took your hands in his, gently kissing your knuckles and the back of your palms before letting go to tug your jeans down. His hands spread over your thighs and rubbed over the skin with his thumbs, sending a shiver straight to your core as his calloused thumb brushed over your clothed heat. "Look s'good for me baby" He cooed and you pursed your lips, trying to keep composure.

His hand worked at pushing your underwear to the side as he grinned a little "So wet sweetheart" He teased, his thumb circling your clit ever so slowly, making you gasp lightly. He pulled back his hand and made quick work of pulling down your underwear and the rest of his clothing. Not wanting to give you too much.

"You sure you want this baby? Ain't gonna regret sleeping with someone your dads age?" He joked, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You nodded and bucked your hips against his again, noticing the way he closed his eyes, as if he as having to control himself.

"I'm sure Rick, i mean it, have your way with me, i don't care" You whimpered and he muttered a string of curse words before nodding and lining himself up carefully. Slowly, he pushed into you, the feeling of him filling you was painful but pleasurable, it wasn't unbearable but he sure as hell wasn't small.

A choked groan left his mouth as he stopped, leaning his head into the crook of your neck, his hands squeezing at your hips to keep his composure. The second he felt your nod of approval, he began to gently move, and the pain completely subsided for pleasure, feeling yourself be completely overtaken by Rick, him being the only thing on your mind, and how amazing he felt inside of you.

Low whines and moans began to fall out of you as he sped up his movements, your hands around his neck, tugging gently at the loose ends of his hair causing a few grunts to escape him. He leaned his head up to kiss you deliriously, muttering curse words into your mouth.

After he was sure you were comfy, he began to pound into you, your head tipping back into the pillows, breaking the kiss as his hands squeezed at your waist and hips, the both of you moaning out, no care in the world as he rutted his hips against your own, your hands finding his back and meaninglessly scratching as a tear or two ran down your cheek in pleasure. Your moans heightening and cracking the coil in your stomach began to tighten, hands moving to grip his biceps.

His movements lost rhythm and began to grow sporadic as his hips sputtered. "Rick- I'm so close.."

"Me too baby-" He nodded quickly, groaning lightly and fucking into you passionately, his fingertips digging into your skin as you let out a high pitched, choked out moan, coming undone onto him. He rode out your high, thrusting up into your sweet spot a few more times as he came inside of you, muttering praise.

Panting, you fell back against the pillow and he carefully pulled out of you, laying beside you. "I can't believe i just did that" He stated, accent thick and voice a little hoarse. "Well, I'm sure glad you did" You smiled and rested your head on his chest, enjoying the way his arm fell on your waist. "You realize everyone probably heard though, right?" He asked and you groaned.

--

This was like, filthy i dunno what was different but at times i had to like pause and be like, can i say that? Anyway, sorry the plot at the start is soooo slow, i had no ideas and tbh wanted the smut, i hope it's ok!

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Bottle Episode

(Masterlist)

multiple whumpers. hot day. everyone’s mad.

this is like. vintage destroyer. gang's all here. i got nostalgic writing this.

not a lot happens in this one i kinda just wanted to play around some w the original cast because i thought it'd be fun. and it was.

(Content: living weapon whumpee, royal whumper, multiple whumpers, carewhumper, casual whump, dehumanization, drug mention, manhandling, slapping, guns, joke about animal death, minor temperature whump)

==========

Delta squinted into the morning sun. He already felt like he was baking. The length and color of his hair did not help, trapping the heat all down his back. He wasn’t built for this kind of weather; it dried his skin out. They’d been waiting since well before sunrise.

“Quit glaring.” Martino tugged roughly at the fin of his ear.

He hadn’t even said anything.

“Why? He’s right. This is bullshit,” Paris interjected, seizing any opportunity to complain. He readjusted the water bottle against his temple, his other hand still messing with the radio’s dials. “They had three months to fix the warning system — it only would’ve taken a day. I don’t know why the fuck I’m rewarding their bad behavior by coming out here. Should’ve just let them hang. Not my problem.”

He wasn’t faring much better in the heat. The uniform he wore was too regal, too thick for the climate. The sweat against his pale skin made him look sickly.

“Who still fights cavalry?” Simon mused. 

“I know.” Paris gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t even know why we have the units. I’m going to disband them soon, it’s just…I mean, I don’t think they can be trained to do anything else.”

“What are you going to do with the horses?” Delta asked quietly.

“Glue,” Paris said. 

Delta couldn’t tell if he was serious. 

He made the C’mere gesture with his hand. Delta stood up from where he’d been sitting cross-legged by Simon’s lawn chair. He knelt down on the grass beside the prince. 

Paris wound the cable around his palm.

It’d been an accident discovery. Something in his body’s chemistry made the signal grow louder and clearer. All he needed to do was get close to it, but it worked better if he was directly connected to the circuit. It didn’t require any conscious effort on his part. It mostly just made him feel tingly.

“That is not the intended use case,” Martino said with bitter disapproval.

“Ask me if I give a fuck.”

Dr.Martino tapped the side of his nose in warning. Paris reflexively wiped at his own. He always fell for it.

“Oh, like you’re any better.” Paris snapped when no powder came off onto his sleeve. “Good luck with the opioid settlement, prick.”

Delta smirked at that. Paris noticed — and seemed mildly gratified by it.

From up on the hill, there should have been no better line-of-sight for the signal. But only static came through, audible even when the headset was off. Paris kept playing with the settings, getting visibly frustrated when they only produced different shades of meaningless noise.

“Did you fix the SWR?” Simon said.

“No, the ratio’s fine. It’s the RFI. Nothing’s getting through with all the aerial traffic.” Paris shook his head.

“I bet it’s the SWR. You probably connected the meter wrong. Let me see it.” Simon stood up from the chair. 

“No.” He pulled the wires closer to himself.

“Just let me see.” Simon adjusted the antenna.

“I know what I’m doing,” Paris insisted.

“Then why isn’t it working, Your Highness?”

They were both wrong. Annoyed, Delta quickly readjusted the dials before they could stop him.

“Get off.” Paris shoved him back with a totally unnecessary amount of force, especially considering he was already off. He just caught himself on his free hand.

“Oh, did that work?” Simon asked curiously, releasing the antenna.

Paris put the headset back on. He didn’t answer, which meant yes. He glared at Delta, who was already gazing at the ground as if nothing had happened, careful not to look too smug about it.

========

An hour had passed. The enemy had yet to reveal itself. There was nothing else to do but rehearse. Delta glanced in between the map and terrain it represented, paying careful attention to the grid he was to superimpose onto it. He targeted each position as they instructed.

“B9.”

Delta put out the warning light to B9.

“A4.”

Delta put out the warning light to A4.

“E6.”

Delta put out the warning light to C6.

“I said E6.” Martin yanked Delta’s hair sharply, forcing him to look further east. He hissed softly.

“You know you can talk to him without hurting him, right? He can hear. You’re not even giving him a chance to obey.” Simon’s voice had a rare edge to it as he leaned forward in his seat.

“It’s correctional.” Martino pulled his hair tighter, just to prove a point. “He’s used to it. I don’t think I need you telling me how to do my job. We were doing just fine without you.”

His hand was still in his hair. Delta adjusted himself in its grasp, trying to take the pressure off. It was not successful. 

“He’s actually shown a lot of improvement under me, so I don’t know what point you’re trying to make.” Simon crossed his arms.

The hand was still in his hair. 

“No. No. That’s just because you changed the metric. Don’t think I didn’t catch that. You don’t get to manipulate the data and say you fixed it. I’m onto you.”

“All date is manipulated,” Simon insisted, “It just depends on how. I wouldn’t have even needed to fix the metrics if your colleague could keep her records straight. Those were inconsistent across the board.”

“Let’s not speak ill of the dead, shall we?”

“I’m not speaking ill of the dead, I’m speaking ill of you.”

The hand was still in his hair.

========

The enemy still had yet to appear by midday, though the murmurs said they were close. Delta could almost feel the soldiers’ restlessness mounting on the ground below. But up on the hill, he was far removed from it. He still saw nothing over the horizon. He paged through the yellowed fantasy novel he’d nabbed from the base camp. He heard Paris well before he saw him, cursing incoherently to nobody but himself. He put the book down.

“Delta.” The string of expletives concluded abruptly with his name. Delta looked up.

The prince knelt down onto the grass beside him. He watched intently as Paris leaned over the map, studying it. With a thin black marker, he drew a small “X” onto a spot just along the river.

“Can you reach here?”

The target was about a mile outside of the agreed upon radius. The scale of the map made the distance seem trivial. It wasn’t. Delta hesitated.

“Paris-“ Dr.Martino began to object.

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask you. I asked him.” 

Delta considered it. He turned his head and started to whisper something to Simon. Paris snapped his fingers in front of his face impatiently.

“Answer me.”

“I’m thinking.” Delta’s voice got sharp.

Paris slapped him in the face. Delta winced. He took a deep breath before he looked back up.

“No. I can’t do it.” Delta glared.

Paris slapped him again, harder this time. It actually stung a lot.

“Your Highness, he can only work within a certain range. It’s not reasonable for-“

“I don’t care about the range, you don’t fucking talk to me like that.” 

Delta was breathing heavily. They both were.

“Let’s take a break, huh?” Simon suggested.

“Mm. Yeah. Perfect.” Paris stormed off.

=======

Delta looked over the remains of the battlefield, studying the patchwork of scorch marks he had left upon it. It had been relatively mild, as far as the operations went. He hadn’t passed out even once. The planet had a very traditional style of fighting — there’d been no need for any excessive shows of power. The enemy numbers were shorter than the signs had indicated; the sensors were more broken than they thought. It was all too easily won. The morning’s events seemed even more trivial because of that. 

Delta was tired. The breeze felt nice after burning in the sun for hours. He could feel the tension draining out of him. His head always cleared up as it got closer to nighttime.

Paris had disappeared just as soon as the actual fighting had begun, slipping back into command. Dr.Martino had disappeared just as soon as the fighting was over, very happy to retire after a whole day of it. He was too old for that kind of heat to begin with. It verged on elder abuse.

Only Simon remained with him up on the hill. The sun was setting. It cast long shadows over the hills and bathed all the rest in golden light.

“Can I stay up here for a little?” Delta asked shyly as he noticed Simon packing up to leave.

Simon glanced back at base camp, clearly a bit concerned by the request. Delta really wasn’t meant to be unaccompanied.

“…You promise not to wander off?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Come find me when you’re ready.” Simon squeezed his shoulder.

Delta nodded gratefully. He listened as the footsteps faded. He leaned back against the tree, watching the sky darken.

=========

“So you actually glow in the dark?”

Paris appeared up on the hill. The fight seemed to have left him by nightfall as well. Delta figured he was more tempered by the victory than the weather, though.

Delta was surrounded by a soft blue aura. He took a minute to examine it, as if noticing it for the first time. Only his eyes glowed, really. And he couldn’t see those. 

He didn’t know what kind of response that comment would warrant. His instinct said zero.

Paris shifted his arm. He was carrying a stupid amount of equipment on him. Several bags worth of weapons and machinery. They made a metallic sound from within. He seemed distracted by it.

“You knocked the numbers station offline, by the way."

“Sorry,” Delta said numbly.

“Forgiven. Anyway, ship’s leaving. Come on.”

Delta stood up. Paris slid one of the rifles off his shoulder and passed it over to him. The gun was awkward, but not heavy. Delta toted it, pulling his long hair off to the side so it wouldn’t get caught in the mechanism. He took the other bag Paris handed him. He heard something clicking around inside of it. 

It had been about thirty hours since he had last slept. For a second, he swore he heard the bag nicker.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[cupidscrule]

PT ONE OF A SHORT FIC!!

Adam stanheight / reader.

Tw - eating disorder, bathroom trap.

Saw 2004

"Hey- sweetie- com'on Hun? Please you need help, we can't keep supporting you if you're just killing yourself." Your mother said to you over the phone, god you didn't care, it wasn't hurting them. All you wanted was one thing, to be a beautiful model, find love, to be loved jeez, and we all know the only way to do that is to be skinny. You were 45kg, 5'4. Yeah, most people would say you're horribly underweight, but fuck them and there stupid opinions, they didn't know you. They couldn't get a say in what shit you pulled, doesn't even matter? Who would care?

Whatever that's besides the point, you were underweight. Still starved yourself, didn't care how people felt, hell you could basically fit toddlers clothes, I mean you always wanted to get in kawaii fashion nows the perfect time. Okay okay back to the point,

You always hated yourself, ugly, pig, god those words you heard all your life. You hated yourself, your loving family, left all your friends, you were alone. Well not really, no I mean like not alone. See everything was going fantastic, i was crying on the bathroom floor like every night, when the shower curtain pulled back and a thing wearing a pig mask shoved a needle in your neck, well probably my neck

Was a bit too hazy to fully remember, so that's how we ended up here.

Little ol me, in a black room, ankle chained, smelled like shit, like actual fucking shit. Jesus, where the fuck am I.

Still haven't figured it out yet. "Hello?? Where the fuck am I??" Oh shit there's someone else here?? Too dark to notice, didn't really think to scream, y'know just in case. It was a males voice, sounded about 20-25. The details don't matter "WAIT I FOUND A LIGHT" he shouts before the bathroom lights flicker on. Jesus no wonder it smelled like shit you were actually in a bathroom, I was just joking earlier. The man was a few meters away from me, he was wearing a white shirt, weird blue button up shirt and was undone, and jeans. His ankle was also cuffed? Fuck whats going on, is this some sick prank? He had short brown hair, and looked tired. Guess you had one thing in common?

"Hey- what's your name??" I asked him with an awkward smile, y'know trying not to start CRYING. "MY NAME IS VERY FUCKING CONFUSED WHAT ABOUT YOU?" jeez, wasn't he just a ball of sunshine? "Well do you remember how you got here?" I said after a few seconds, honestly I didn't even care if he was pissed all I wanted to do was get out of here. I looked around, saw fuck all. Well besides a man in the middle of me and mystery man who killed himself. Yeesh hope it didn't get that unbearable. "Nothing. Fucking nothing. I went to bed in my shithole apartment and woke up in an actual shithole??" He says looking over at me. He looked upset, but who wouldn't if they woke up in a bathroom with your ankle cuffed to a poll. "But- what's your name." Mystery man calmly says, wow what a change in emotion. Went from crazy bitch to sweet little charmer

"The less you know about me the better. What about you?" I say rubbing my eyes, before reaching down to my foot trying to break the chain. "Adam." He says after a solid 40 seconds, god finally something useful. "Huh, well nice to meet you Adam, NOW HOW THE FUCK DID WE END UP HERE?" I gotta admit I did sound a bit angry there but fuck if I care? Seems like a life or death scenario either way. Doubt this guy cares about kindness the way he acted before, "well - nice to meet you.. Adam. Now, do you know anything? Like why we're here?" A good minute passed before I said that, I guess I did feel a bit bad. He looked over at me, looking confused but not at me? "No, I really don't but-" he says before cutting himself off "wait he has something in his hand??" Adam continued speaking, pointing at the corpses hand. Yeesh it was a tape player, what a weird thing to hold onto, it also looked like there was a gun? Well I mean kinda expected that, given the head shit wound. "Can you reach it??" I shout to him, before getting on my stomage Trying to reach for it "No- Wait - actually" he says going over to a bathtub, grabbing the drainer. Using it to grab the small player, "smart.." I said putting on a half smirk, he grabs it with his wet hands, he pulls out two tapes, one with Adam written on it, and the other with yours. He inserts the one that has his name on it and presses 'play'

"Rise and shine, Adam. You're probably wondering where you are. I'll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room that you die in. Up until now you simply sat in the shadows watching others live out their lives. But what do voyeurs see when they look into the mirror? Now, I see you as a strange mix of someone angry, yet apathetic. But mostly just pathetic. So are you going to watch yourself die today, Adam, or do something about it?" Wow, that's fucking harsh. Poor guy honestly? "Hey toss me the one with my name on it-" I say to him holding out my hands, he throws it with the tape.

" Y/n , this is your wake-up call. Every day of you've starved yourself to look hotter, you have people worried that today might be your last day alive. Now, it's your job to end someone other then yourself,  Your aim in this game is to kill Adam. You have until six on the clock to do it. There's a man in the room with you. When there's that much poison in your blood, the only thing left to do...is shoot yourself. There are ways to win this hidden all around you. Just remember, X marks the spot for the treasure. If you do not kill Adam by six, then Cathy and Paul will die, Y/n ... and I'll leave you in this room to rot. Let the game begin. Follow your heart."

"Follow your heart -?" I say under my breath, looking over to Adam who is just staring "listen.. girl- we don't have to do what it says. Okay? We can figure this out and both live-?" He says oddly calm, "it said follow your heart- and there's ways to win everywhere?" You say looking around, "you said heart?" He says looking over at you "yeah?" I reply just kinda staring, what the fuck is he doing.

He stretches over towards a toilet bowl which has a heart smudged on it, sticking his hand in the toilet "Adam- no- ew-" you say gagging looking away from him. "Fuck nothing.." he says before opening the top of the shitter,  grabbing a black bag with various things in it, "The fuck is that?" I said to him looking back at him, a big ass trash bag which he dumped on the ground as two saws fall out of it, and a little case, with unknown things in it.

Adam immediately goes to cut off the chain, unfortunately the saw flimsily breaks In half. "What the fuck??" He shouts tossing it away, "they aren't meant to cut metal. They're meant to cut off our-" I say staring at the little saw, eyes wide, who the fuck would come up with this sick game? This is torture, hell on earth. What did I do to deserve this?

[vxnillite]

fluffy ZNoah drabble

Summary: it's just them training with gay tension and pining i cant come up with titles to save my life, sorry

Word count: 2212

[Edit: ok so i forgot to post this on ig, but then thought to edit it while i was here. nothing much changed, it even got 4 words shorter lol]

"I'm clocking out early today."

Kroi looked up from his work with genuine surprise. "But you're usually the last one out," he said.

Noah talked as they packed a small backpack with their water bottle and a change of clothes. They shrugged. "Z's giving me self-defense training or whatever."

"You agreed?"

"Shocked myself, too, actually." Noah slung a single strap over their left shoulder. "But she did have a point. She doesn't always come along for the school visits, and while the Na'vi are really skilled fighters, I guess it wouldn't be a bad thing if I were able to defend myself."

Grace emerged from the adjoined room. She looked oodly smug as she asked, "Is that the only reason?"

Noah raised a brow. "Should there be another?"

Kroi and Grace exchanged looks but said nothing. The latter smiled and patted Noah on the shoulder.

"Well, you've done enough at the lab today," she said, "Great work, as always."

The young scientist couldn't help but blush a bit, a bubble of pride swelling in their chest. They smiled. "Thanks, Grace."

"Alright, go get your strictly necessary training."

Kroi beamed, "See you at dinner, Noah!"

A slightly perplexed Noah waved goodbye as they left through the vacuum doors of the lab. They haven't told a soul, but they'd begun to notice the weird pattern of reaction whenever they mentioned the soldier to their friends, but Noah had never thought much of it, except that it was probably just a bunch of friendly yet fruitless teasing.

When the doors hissed to a close, then the other two scientists burst into lighthearted laughter.

"How are they so clueless," Kroi mused, "Z-Dog could outright tell Noah and they still wouldn't believe her."

"I made a bet with Dr. Patel that Noah might notice in two weeks."

The doctor mentioned chimed in from the other room, "You might as well hand me the money now, Dr. Augustine. That kid's never gonna notice that soldier girl's got a crush on them."

----------

Noah's phone buzzed incessantly while they were on their way to the SecOps wing, much to their annoyance. They already knew who was blowing their phone up and thought it better to just walk the entire way in relative peace. A few paces later, their phone still wouldn't shut up, so Noah yanked their phone out of their pocket and read the messages.

'u out yet?'

'where r u'

'hurry up im bored'

'stop ignoring my texts'

'damn u slow'

"Puta, ingay," Noah muttered to themselves as they punched in a response.

'omw :P'

'walk faster'

'no'

'oh i forgot'

'short legs ;)'

With a sharp click of the tongue, Noah quickly shoved their phone back in their pocket. The thought of just turning right back around and heading to their sleeping quarters instead seemed rather enticing now. As of late, Z had become bolder with teasing Noah around like that, and it's been driving them insane. The dumb jokes and that stupid laugh she made whenever she got a reaction out of Noah… All of it would be stuck in their head for hours, and Noah didn't know how to deal with it.

They started walking faster as they recognized the corridor leading to the SecOps training rooms. The volume of soldiers passing by was growing by the meter. Noah could feel the confused looks that some were throwing at them, while others, thankfully, seemed like they didn't give a crap about the scientist.

Noah looked closely at the room labels placed above the doors, trying to recall the room number Z had told them to go to—without much success.

Just how many training rooms do a bunch of these grease monkey musclebrains need?

Unfortunately, after racking their brain a bit more in vain, Noah had no choice but to ask Z. They were impatient enough as is, and they genuinely couldn't remember that tiny bit of information to save their life. They groaned as they pulled their phone back out of their pocket.

'room?'

'u forgot? :('

'nvm im going back'

Somewhere beside Noah, a bubblegum popped. "And, here I thought you were excited for training."

Noah jumped back a bit at Z just suddenly materializing in front of them. How did they not notice her?

Quickly composing themselves, Noah cleared their throat and said, "Stop playing games already. You were the one telling me to hurry up, weren't you?"

Z chuckled as she ruffled the scientist's hair. "Just wanted to see you sooner," she said, "Is that so wrong?"

Noah frantically pushed the hand off their head and looked around at the crowd in a panic. "Ugh, can you even hear yourself," they chided in hushed tones, "Just—! Let's just get to training already!"

They stormed off, and Z, knowing better, chased after Noah and pulled them along to the training room they'd be using, which was in the opposite direction that Noah was marching off to. Upon arrival, Noah checked first if it was empty. It was one of their conditions for this series of self-defense training with Z. The latter agreed, actually finding it ideal for her, too.

Satisfied that there was nary a human being in the room aside from them, Noah put their backpack down on a bench and plopped down beside it.

They looked up at Z expectantly. "So, what are we gonna do first," they asked.

Z stood across them, arms crossed under her chest. "First, have you ever had any sort of physical training before?"

Noah recounted their experiences on their fingers. "Failed high school phys-ed, used medical notes throughout college… Oh, and Kevin tried teaching me, but I guess I was a terrible student because I didn't learn shit."

"Oh, wow," Z chuckled, "We better get started then." 

The soldier cocked her head towards the small black bin by the door and spat the gum in her mouth straight in. The small spectacle shouldn't have been of any note to Noah, but it was. The fact lingered in the back of their mind, but they did their best to not let it show.

"Warm-up first," Z said as she motioned Noah over to the mat, "Some basic stretches can't be too hard for you, right?"

Noah snickered, "Don't count on it yet."

"Alright, nerd. Just follow my lead."

Z started doing some basic stretches. Noah seemed to be following along okay, but they kept tumbling over or losing their balance. At some point, it concerned Z, and she stopped stretching. When she spared Noah a little exasperated stare, the scientist stood up and looked back at her, confused.

"What's wrong?"

"Do the stretch we just did."

Although their brow was still raised, Noah just shrugged, then went back into the stretch. Z walked around them, humming in thought. When she came back to her spot, she had her conclusion.

"Your posture sucks, Noah," she said, trying not to laugh.

Noah immediately straightened up and clutched their braids, their eyes averted from Z in embarrassment in a fruitless attempt to hide their blushing face and ears. "Stop fucking giggling, you pinhead," they retorted, "It's not that bad!"

"Dude," the soldier wheezed, "It's why you keep falling over. It is that bad."

Noah twisted on their heel and began to storm off when Z caught their shoulders, then pulled them back towards the mat. "Don't just give up like that, idiot," she chuckled, "I didn't say I wouldn't help you."

"Still took a fucking sweet time to mock me, though," they huffed as they were dragged.

Z let them settle their feet back on the mat. "Alright, now do the stretch again."

"No."

"Noah."

"Ugh, fine."

A snarl and a string of curses came through as Noah redid the stretch. Z told them to relax as she went behind them and started correcting Noah's stance. But when she went to try and hold onto Noah's side, they jerked back and made a noise between a squeak and a yelp.

Noah, absolutely mortified, looked back at Z. It took the soldier a few seconds to process what she'd just heard.

"Was that… Was that you?"

Noah could feel their ears burning as frustration and humiliation created chaos within them. "You didn't fucking hear that!"

Z absolutely heard it, and she was suddenly in hysterics. "Noah, you're ticklish? Hah!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Oh my god. That's just cute," Z smirked, "Who would've thought?"

Noah thought their ticklishness was something stupid, embarrassing, and totally unbecoming of them — but never 'cute'. That tiny comment echoed in Noah's head, as well as the loud pounding of their heart. It felt extremely weird that, no matter how hard they thought, they couldn't come up with anything to snark back at Z with. So they just stood there, stunned, hair pulled over their reddened ears. The same couldn't be done to hide their face though, as it burned a deep, cherry red.

"You're blushing," the soldier teased.

Noah hissed, "I know that!"

Z's laughter trailed into a softer chuckle, then she asked, "How sensitive are you?"

Silence.

Z put a hand on her waist, looking expectantly at Noah. "I'm not trying to tease. I'm asking so I know how to help you in training."

Noah answered reluctantly, "It's really bad when I'm taken by surprise, like what you did just now. But I think if I see it coming…  it wouldn't bother me as much."

Having absorbed that little bit of information, Z went behind Noah again. As she guided them into the right position, she'd tell Noah beforehand if she was going to touch them and where. Noah still jerked back on reflex, but they tolerated the annoying tingling sensations until they actually eased into a sense of comfort. The feeling of Z's firm, heavy grip lingered on the areas she would touch, and it rendered Noah quite complacent to the soldier's instructions and helplessly flustered from the tiniest bits of praise.

When they got through the warm-up, Noah could barely feel their muscles burning over the heat they felt in their face. As soon as Z stepped away from them, Noah ran to the bench and chugged their water, purposefully turned away from Z as they mentally tried to calm themselves down.

It wasn't working that well.

"If you were that thirsty, you could've told me," Z said, both teasing and concerned. "And, don't drown yourself."

Noah drank almost the entire bottle of water and was panting as if they'd run a marathon when they put the tumbler down. They wiped away any stray water trails with the back of their hand, then turned back around to face Z.

"What's next," they huffed, expression steeled as if they weren't blushing crazily just moments ago.

Cute, Z thought. She stifled her laughter out of consideration for Noah's determination. "Alright, we'll start with the basics: just punching and kicking. Nothing too complicated"

An hour later, Noah was lying spread-eagled on the mat, drenched in sweat and eyes closed as they struggled to catch their breath. Every muscle in their body was screaming and Noah listened to their plea. They stayed still on the mat while Z looked on.

She snickered, "So, want to move on to lesson 2?"

Noah raised a middle finger at her, only for it to drop back down on the mat. They earned a hearty laugh from the soldier.

Z got her tumbler and Noah's towel from their bag, then handed both items to them, whom she had to pull up to a sitting position. They flung the towel on their head and started chugging down the bottle. It was empty in seconds.

"Ah, shit," they muttered, frowning at the empty bottle. Then they looked up at Z, their gaze soft and apologetic. "Sorry about that."

Z sat beside them. "Nah, it's fine," she said, "I've got an extra bottle in my bag."

"I'm real shitty at this physical stuff," Noah sighed. Training was rough, but halfway through it , they actually started having fun. They had to admit—and they really didn't expect it—their teacher was a pretty good one. But they couldn't help but feel bad about being so crap at following her directions at times.

Z laughed, "Yeah, you are." She patted Noah on the back and smiled. "But, you did good today. Tripped a few times, but hey, baby steps, right?"

Noah lightened up at the comment. "Right," they nodded. "Oh, by the way, I've got a pack of bubblegum in my bag. It's your favorite."

"You remember my favorite bubble gum flavor?"

"Uh, yeah, 'cus you're never not chewing on one."

Z suddenly tackled Noah into a headlock, laughing loudly as they tried to squirm out from under her arm to no avail.

"Isn't that sweet of you," she chuckled.

"Gago, bitawan mo nga 'ko!" [T/N: Let go of me!]

They tried pushing her off, but Noah's arms were twigs in strength compared to Z's. Yet as they cursed out the soldier, Noah was grinning and laughing along with her. Eventually, Z loosened her arm around their neck, and rested it over their shoulder. They didn't try to remove it.

"Same time tomorrow," they asked.

"You don't mind?"

Noah shook their head. Z grinned.

"It's a date, then."

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[mygnolia]

ignore that little follow + unfollow there but. "fuck it. kiss me?" w soobin PLS. ren i'm in dire need of soobin content bc this man,,, he does things to me 😔 it could be ANYTHING at all, i just need some soobs content 😵‍💫😵‍💫

omg pause this is a cute idea- I TOO am bombarded with soobin and i will offer u some soobs rn and the follow PLS

pair: soobin x gn!reader | wc: 764 | au/trope/genre: mentions of chem partners, slight e2l/ f2l, roller skating | no warnings | a/n: not me trying to avoid f2l bc i remember u liked e2l dhfvjfdjf | not proofread so ignore the mistakes LMFAO

-

You and Choi Soobin are at that stage where you can’t call each other enemies, as cliche as it seems, but you also cannot deny the rapidly growing feelings for the very boy who’d once frown when you locked eyes.

However, one of your closest friends happens to be a little twat, and invites your chemistry partner as well.

“Just because Mr. Choi Soobin happens to be right there does not mean you can also invite him.” You reprimanded dramatically, not actually mad at what he did. The dark haired boy puts his hand up as he defends himself, clearly not taking you seriously.

“I didn’t think that when I ran up to you there would be the person who you claim to hate most right around the corner!” He protests, his eyes wide. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you’re in a three meter radius of that boy.” You roll your eyes and shove him, readjusting your backpack strap as Beomgyu takes a random left, unaffected by your playful antics. Perks of sharing a large campus with another academic program; you’d get to wander the multitude of undiscovered walkways during your free time.

“God, well now we have to see each other more because you also invited him there.” You refer to the same boy who’s been the subject of your conversation for the past five minutes.

Beomgyu sticks out his tongue. “Boo, _____ has a little crush and wants to deny it- Ow! Will you stop?”

You sulk. “Whenever you stop making fun of me.” He laughs.

—

Showing up to the rink meant spotting the six foot giant in a white sweater and fidgeting hands. The only person he knows here is you and maybe Taehyun, but even then, he doesn’t know you that well, and a small part of him wants to better acquaint himself because he takes a liking to the snarky jokes and sarcastic remarks that you offer.

And putting your skates on means wobbling with every step and running into Ryujin whenever you accelerate too much. And bam! You’ve run into a laughing Choi Soobin who’s helping you regain your balance. You send him a gratuitous smile and begin to skate off, but he’s still holding your hand, and your balance just happens to be much better than before.

You’re only holding his hand because you don’t want sore knees by tomorrow. Nothing else. The sun slowly drops until it nears the horizon, and it’s when your friends clock out to go home. Soobin offers to accompany you until you reach the bus stop, and even though you get there within minutes of speed-walking, he stays for a bit longer, making sure you’re not alone. It makes your heart warm, and maybe he isn’t so bad when he’s watching the stars and smiling at his phone.

Maybe this was the time to do something completely impulsive, but Soobin just looked so serene under the soft glow of the lights. You’ve made up for the freshman rivalry that stretched until now, and you’ve gotten over that speed bump that’s slowed you both down from being friends. So why were you hesitating?

The bus nears, and you’re both aware of that fact, as it seems like he immediately turns to you with a ‘get home safe’ already on the tip of his tongue. You look content with the way today turned out, and Soobin feels his chest inexplicably flood with something so… warm. Maybe he could lean in and peck your cheek. Kiss your knuckle like a gentleman from the 19th century. He scoffs at the outlandish thought, and returns his gaze to you.

But Choi Soobin did not have the guts.

“Fuck it.” You could sense the hesitance radiating off of him in waves. “Kiss me?” You asked, some of the previous confidence dissipating the moment the words left you. Plus, Soobin’s surprised expression didn’t help, and you worriedly waited for the “I don’t like you like that.” that would most definitely.

“Okay.” He murmurs, ears tinted with pink. You can’t fight the smile that paints your face, and close your eyes when he leans in.

Your theory is very much correct, and Choi Soobin has quite soft lips.

--

reqs are open | © all rights are reserved to mygnolia 2022. republished, translated, and/or heavily referenced work will be reported and removed immediately.

[baejax-the-great]

Burnt Card

Nadia Shepard x Garrus Vakarian | M | 6739 words | AO3

cw: hurt/comfort, major injuries, happy ending

~

The mission went south before the shuttle even touched down on Gei Hinnom. Well, Garrus supposed it went south because the shuttle didn't touch down, instead exploding about twenty meters off the surface. In what felt like a reenactment of the SR1 destruction he never saw, Shepard shoved him and Grunt out the side door that she didn’t wait to open all the way. Blasted it off the ship with her biotics while shouting, “Go, go, go!” and Garrus was airborne before he could even process what was happening.

She must have felt the missile’s mass effect field coming.

Still too slow, because she only had one foot out the door when missile made impact. Garrus saw it happen this time—falling through the air as the shuttle erupted into flames and twisted metal shards raining down across the planet.

The pilot was lost—no way to survive a direct impact like that, and he wasn’t wearing armor—but Garrus was pretty certain one flaming piece of debris that scattered toward the west was Shepard, her vitals still blinking in his visor.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Grunt breaking anything on impact.

“Joker, we need an emergency medical evac,” he heard himself calling before even getting back on his feet. Not that he could do that much with AA guns that just took them out somewhere on the planet. Sensors didn’t pick them up. No hostile presence had been detected at all, but with the thick jungle foliage, scans had been patchy at best. Someone was going to have to disable them on foot, and given the fracture in his ankle his suit was now blaring about, it wasn’t going to be Garrus.

Grunt pulled him to his feet as the medigel deployed, and after a few tentative steps—left leg could bear weight with the armor support and patch job—Garrus started running.

His visor honed in on a pile of smoking, red debris in the center of burnt-out vegetation. Shepard was trying and failing to get to her feet, slipping on what he hoped was mud and melted foliage, but probably contained a good portion of her own blood.

“Stay down, Shep,” he called into his comm.

Growls in the underbrush from every direction—varren circling—and a dead one next to her. Visor indicated its skull was crushed in, and it would be just like her to punch something to death while bleeding out. She should have spent that energy on deploying her own medigel, which he did for her now.

As soon as he reached her, he dropped to his knees at her side. She wasn’t moving at all now. “Throw this thing as far as you can,” he ordered Grunt with a gesture to the dead varren. That would buy him time for Shepard to get to her feet as others tore the corpse to shreds. Grunt grabbed it by the tail, swung the varren and himself around in a circle, and launched it into the forest.

Come on, Shep. Her vitals weren’t changing. Breathing rate rapid, heart rate rapid, blood pressure too low. All the red was blurring into one big, bad sign. It was like the medigel had no effect at all. Shit.

He switched his omnitool from medical to technical, scanning over her armor to diagnose the problem. That couldn’t be right. With a quick apology to his silent commander, he flipped her over from her front to her back.

The fact that she didn’t or couldn’t bother to joke about or at least curse him out over his manhandling was bad.

It was worse than bad, and Garrus shoved down the note of panic in his subvocals. Didn’t really need advanced tech to find the problem—her armor was shredded. Melted, blown off in the blast, it didn’t matter. Even her undersuit was torn away in places, and her bare, burnt skin was exposed and a lot redder than it should have been. Blood, human blood is red, he reminded himself. A quick scan told him the medigel port was still intact by her hip, but the tubes that ran the lines through her armor for administration were broken. His deployment had resulted in the medigel being dumped into the ground to mix with her blood.

Fuck.

Read the rest on AO3

[harfanfare]

Aether x Reader || Glaze Lilies

"This one is delicious too," you said, swallowing another piece of the dish. “Paimon would probably create another stomach for these miracles.”

Aether chuckled softly as he bites off another piece of hot roll filled with traditional Liyue-rich stuffing. “I guess even that is not enough when the competition is the Sticky Honey Roast that Amber offered her.”

You smiled in response.

Late fall in Liyue was a beautiful time of the year.

The city was always full of red and gold colours like towns straight from fairy tales, but in this time, when the leaves have already turned dark orange and the air was carrying an aroma of seasonal seed cookies, Liyue looked even more breathtaking.

You were sure that it was Amber who made it possible for you to go somewhere on Aether's day off from doing… everything. Normally, you would be sitting in some restaurant watching Paimon heartlessly ordering all the dishes from a menu without looking at the number of zeros of each price.

But when Amber heard you mention dates accompanied by beautiful, falling leaves, she blushed as the flame of pure determination appeared in her eyes. In the evening she appeared in front of Paimon and offered her to go out to the city for one day.

Oh, if she only knew how much it will cost her...

"[Name], stay close to me, or I will lose you in this crowd." Aether gripped your hand tighter.

"Getting lost in such a big city would be romantic, wouldn't it?" you giggled.

"Getting lost and being found in the wrong place and time wouldn’t be," he replied. “Every city is much more dangerous when the night comes.”

You turned into another street to finally reach the viewpoint in Liyue.

You could see a lot more from there, but less people could see you. Who would twist their neck to see two little dots on top of a mountain?

"It's going to rain soon," Aether nodded at the clouds, which were moving quickly toward the city. He clicked his tongue. “If we don't want to get wet, we should be getting ready.”

"Oh, isn't that Aether?"

You turned around to see a girl approaching you two.

She was gorgeous—her long blonde hair waved in the breeze as if it existed only to be an effect for them. She had every girl's dream figure, bright, sparkling eyes, and rosy cheeks.

Perfect girl.

And the perfect person to compare yourself with to create a trillion complexes about your body.

She had a very charismatic, attractive aura around her, but the way she behaved towards Aether was slowly starting to bother you. Of course, it might just be some kind of funny, totally wrong prejudice against her, but ...

“[Girl's name]?” Aether muttered, not noticing your pleading gaze saying: ‘let's get out of here.’ “—What are you doing here?”

"I was just passing by," she laughed, her voice soft, pearl-like. “I couldn't go without saying hi, haha!” Then she looked at you and fixed you with a stare. It wasn't a cold look, but it wasn't friendly either. “And who is that?”

"Ah," Aether shook his head, as if only now remembering that he had not come here alone. He put his hand around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, [Name]”

“I didn't know you had a girlfriend! You always have to be so mysterious?” Aether rolled his eyes at her words, even if he smiled slightly. Then she turned to you. “Could I kidnap him for a moment? I need help moving my luggage to my new apartment.”

She grabbed his hand without waiting for your answer, as if it were a rhetorical question. As Aether released his hand from your waist, you felt as if you were left alone in a foreign land.

“I'll be back in a minute!” After these words, he turned to the blonde and at an equal pace, they turned around the corner of some house, behind the wall of which you could see an extremely high pile of boxes.

"It probably won't be a minute," you sighed.

You leaned against the railing and stared at the toes of your shoes, telling yourself that you should have opposed her. Would that be selfish? You've been dreaming about a date with Aether for so long, without third parties, and now that the moment has come, it turns out that someone will take from you your boyfriend anyway.

Five minutes passed... eight minutes... ten... thirteen...

After fourteen minutes, you got up and decided to check how much was already packed. Some of the super-heavy boxes seemed to be gone, but that was up for discussion since there were dozens of them here.

You couldn't find a familiar face in sight. Did... they just leave you here? More likely, they were just carrying some luggage into one of the nearby houses, but you couldn't knock on every door to find them—it would take hours.

You felt yourself slowly breaking down.

You knew you were a little (a little very much) jealous of this girl, but more depressing was the fact that this was going to be yours and Aether’s day. COMMON. Now you thought you were the loneliest person in the universe.

"I'm not going to get upset," you repeated aloud, trying to motivate yourself to leave this place. "I'll go... I’ll go somewhere and have a good time... alone."

With a quick step, as if you didn't want to think about this anymore, you turned back and followed the alleys you and Aether had previously travelled. You came to the food stores that you had only glanced at before, but you didn't have time to taste anything else because you were in a hurry to get to the viewpoint.

It is true that you ordered take-out rolls, but the whole range of different types of food seemed very tempting despite the filling bread.

And the smell of such highly seasoned dishes was tempting—very much.

"Sorry," a young girl approached you after you shoved a piece of meat into your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, almost choking on it. “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

“…Why not?” you replied.

The girl put the money in the pocket of her dress. Instead of putting a flower on your hand, she came closer and gently braided a glaze lily into your hair near right ear.

"Here you are," she replied and looked at you. A smile beamed across her face. “You look really pretty!”

"Thank you," you replied. You noticed that this was the last flower in her basket, and because of that, the ten-year-old girl seemed proud of herself. She walked away, thanking again for the purchase.

I think that one more on the other side and all would be perfect...

You glanced at the setting sun and concluded that you could give Aether a similar lily. Wouldn't that look cute on him? There was still some time before it will get completely dark. Even the rain clouds that had previously seemed to be crossing the sky at an alarming pace now seem to have stopped.

You finished eating and walked briskly towards the Danyu Ruins, hoping to find some pretty lilies on your way.

The silence, or rather the sound of the wind and the leaves rustling against each other, were the only thing that accompanied your footsteps since you left Liyue. It seemed relaxing at first, but now that the skies were a deeper blue than orange, you concluded that a travelling companion would not be a bad idea.

“They're here!” you finally found two lilies that glistened slightly in the dark. You collected them quickly and turned to head back into town.

…You were surprised when you encountered many, many roads, each of them unfamiliar.

"I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs," you joked, though panic had already paralyzed your legs.

Your problems were not diminished by the fact that you heard mad laughter near you. You felt your heart leap into your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as a figure emerged from behind the bushes.

Abyss mage.

You have heard about them from the stories of Aether, who sometimes told you about his adventures when you tried to bandage his wounds with a bandage, herbs, or other medicines.

As soon as your heart was beating, so quickly the magician saw you. He teleported a meter away from you and you started running.

Faster, faster, faster.

Before you ran a hundred meters, a mage appeared before you. You didn't even have time to stop when he waved his hand, and a large ice crystal formed in front of him. Huge and pointed towards you.

Almost as soon as it was launched, a certain force pushed both of you backwards. You felt pain in your left leg, but somehow you didn't fall. Strong arms held you and made you be in a comforting, familiar embrace.

You looked up to see Aether running towards the cliff to finally jump, open his gliding set and take you two away from the icy monster.

You didn't say a word to each other all this time.

As soon as you touched the ground, you stepped out of his embrace, as if feeling that you had abused his closeness too much. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, turned to face him, and initiated a long, passionate kiss.

He didn't pull away until you both were breathless, and your cheeks were burning like hot coals. You couldn't say you were cold anymore.

“Why?” He took a deep breath. However, his voice still trembled. “Why didn't you wait for me? If I did not make it on time—"

“I was waiting for you!” You interrupted him. You bit your lower lip as you tried to contain the tide of frustration. “It's you who disappeared somewhere. You went somewhere with that girl. I already thought you weren't coming back.”

Aether, an intelligent boy, immediately paraphrased your words "I was maybe jealous". At the thought, he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, scratching his neck. “I accidentally dropped a box on her leg and, oh, it was hard to treat someone who screams in pain before even a finger touches them…”

"Oh," you felt a deep flush of embarrassment coming up to your cheeks. Indeed, the previous redness of the cheeks did not disappear, but now it only preserved their shade for the next minutes. “I'm really sorry. I left you, put you and myself in danger, just to find some stupid flowers...”

For the third time since finding you, Aether hugged you tightly. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. You stood for a few minutes in pleasant silence, cuddling tightly to each other, and finally, you both relaxed completely.

You took the tangled lilies out of your pocket; one was practically worn out, but the other seemed to be in good condition. You dropped the massacred one, and you tried to straighten the petals with your fingers.

"Turn around," you told him.

He did it without batting an eye. You ran your fingers through his hair and braided his plant into a braid.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought yours, still artfully arranged, flashed a pleasant blue light as Aether examined his looks.

"It suits you," you said. You both decided to go back to Liyue and spend the rest of the night there. You held hands all the way back.

"You too," he replied. "We are complementing each other very nicely now with these flowers ...and also without them," he added with a smile.

"So, you still think getting lost isn't romantic?" You looked at him from under your lashes.

“Still. I wish I could have you with me without any excuse that you will get lost.”

[peterrparrkerr]

Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

*-*

Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and  Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the  roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Sit by the fire until... Chapter 2

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/81650737

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you when you get magically transformed into a bunny rabbit against your will by the corrupted darkness of the Sacred Realm: somethings, unfortunately, tend to stick.  

Now, Legend isn’t saying that he’s hiding a cotton tail under his tunic or that his soul secretly aches to frolic in meadows or spend his time sleeping in holes or whatever else it is that rabbits do when they're not busy being very confused and scared twelve year old Hylians.

No.

But that doesn't mean he was left unscathed by having his entire anatomy re-written in less than an instant.

Because of course he wouldn’t. Goddess forbid he ever catch a break for once in his life.

He was still pretty young when it happened, so Legend can’t remember if his teeth had been quite so bucked before the incident. Regardless if they were or not, they sure as Hylia are prominent now. Then there's also the fact that he never really grew into his ears, the damn things always just a shade longer than they should be for a regular Hylian.

Before he joined this wild cucco chase masquerading as an adventure, Legend would sometimes catch himself looking at Ravio wondering, Is that how I would have looked? Besides the hair and eyes, the merchant was supposed to be his mirror image after all. Zelda and Hilda were, so it stood to reason that he and Ravio should be the same.

In which case, the bucktooth thing was going to be a problem regardless.

The ears, on the other hand, are a completely different story. From the quick glances Legend has managed to steal of Ravio’s side profile, the merchant has relatively short ears himself, which just make the Veteran’s own look comically long when the two stand side by side.

And ugh, and that wasn't even touching on his… less physical changes.

 Namely, his cravings.

Noshing on some leafy greens while home alone doing some chores? A-Okay.

Getting caught by Warriors and Twilight absentmindedly chewing on the hay he was supposed to be feeding the horses? Ehhh, not so much.  

Goddesses, his ego still hasn’t recovered from the amount of jokes the Pretty Boy had made at his expense. And that’s not even mentioning the veritable mountain of carrots he found in his bedroll, no doubt courtesy of that flea bitten farmhand.

Regardless of the less than natural way he got these… attributes, Legend couldn’t say they were all bad. ‘Cuz sure, his ears were a bit longer than average, but he could also hear better than most of his companions, able to catch the sound of crunching leaves above even their loud bickering. Like wise, his eyes were sharper than others in the low light of dawn and dusk, allowing him to see things others would miss.

Frankly, both skills had helped keep him alive during his quests. He was thankful for them in a weird huh, guess that works kinda way, but thankful all the same.

But sometimes Legend wanted to wring the goddesses necks because really? Being turned into a rabbit couldn’t have fixed this particular problem?

This particular problem being his absolutely horrible pollen allergies.

“ A-A-A!”

Each rapid, involuntary inhale feels like a simultaneous punch to the gut and a gasp for breath, the air yanked into his body and then stoppered up. It leaves the veteran in a state of limbo as a paralyzing calm falls over him; lungs full of air, shoulders hiked up, muscles tensed.

For a second, everything feels lodged in place, frozen, like the Champion had used his stasis rune on him.

And–

Legend clamps his mouth shut and tucks his face into his elbow just as tension snaps and–

“- acheew! ”

Nothing but a soft, cut off sneeze slips past his lips, yet, the force of holding it back  still sends Legend bowing over. He stays there, hunched over for a breath as his body recovers, before he straightens back up, sniffing irritably as he tries to ignore the itch prickling at his eyes and the congested pressure throbbing behind his sinuses.

A chortling huff sounds next to him and when Legend glances down he can see Wolfie– or should he say, Twilight– peering up at him, mouth open and tongue lolling in a doggy grin, but icy blue eyes too pointed, too teasing, to be anything but human.

Legend's nose twitches tellingly as it begins to tickle again and the wolf gives another stuttering huff. A laugh. Legend can practically hear Twilight’s twangy, Awww. You sneeze like a bunny.

The bastard.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dog boy,” Legend grumbles, wiping harshly at his face in an attempt to stave off another sneezing fit. “Don't you have trees to piss on or something?”

That earns him peeled back lips and a growl, but Legend just sends the other a responding sneer as strides past the grumpy wolf and out into the rolling field of tulips that stands in front of them.

Another huff, this one more annoyed than amused, sounds behind the veteran before the wolf streaks past him, loping through the flowers with his nose down and tail high.

Legend rolls his eyes.

Twilight loves to show his teeth, but the farmhand is quite literally all bark and no bite.

And besides, they both have better things to do than needle one another. If Legend is going to be miserable, he may as well take steps to make that misery as short as possible.

Afterall, they aren't out here swanning through a meadow of flowers for pleasure.

The last Dark Portal they had all walked through had, once again, separated them. Legend and Twilight were lucky enough to find one another quickly, though, now that Legend thinks about it, it probably had less to do with luck and more to do with Twilight’s nose.

After regrouping, they had tried to search for the others more that day, but a storm had them holed up in a cave overnight to wait out the deluge. They had gotten up early to start their search again today, but so far they had no such luck in finding any of the others in the forest.

Which just left the inexplicable meadow of tulips surrounding the wood.

Legend had been hoping that the rain would keep some of the pollen at bay, but nooo that would be too merciful, wouldn’t it?

If anything, the rain just made this whole experience more aggravating. Now, along with stinging eyes, a running nose, and a throbbing head, Legend also had the delightful honor of feeling the tulip stalks and leaves and petals sliding wetly across his skin, the annoying slap of his tunic smacking his thighs as it got more sodden by the second, and the disgusting squish of water between his toes with every step he took through this Wind Fish damned field.

And sure, maybe it was worth it to reunite with the other heroes, but really, would it kill the goddesses to make his life just a little bit easier.

A bark pulls Legend from his miserable musings. Twilight's dark tail stands out among the ocean of pastel pinks and yellows and oranges, wagging frantically twenty meters away. It disappears after a second, replaced by a muzzle and expectant eyes.

Twilight barks at him again.

He must have found something.

Finally, Legend thinks as he begins to make his way over toward the other, hopefully a reason to get out of this floral hell hole.

“What is it, boy?” Legend asks, voice going high and mocking as he takes delicate care stepping on as many flowers as possible, “Little Time-y fall down the well again?”

Instead of a growl for his effort, Legend gets a flurry of black flecks falling upward, like pieces of reverse snow, in his peripheral vision.

“You know,” Twilight says as he straightens to his full height, eyes half-lidded. Unamused, “You’re really not as funny as you seem to think you are.”

And before Legend can interrupt that– No, actually, you just have a dog shit sense of humor. Literally– Twilight continues, “I can smell the smithy all over this thing.” He nods down at a small tree stump breaking through the tide of flowers. “The scent is a bit old, probably from sometime before last evening, but still traceable. I should be able to find him from here.”

Legend eyes the stump for a moment, peering into the cracked hole in the top of the wood. Inside, he can see the round, red caps of several toadstools sprouting.

He can also sense magic. Close to that of the fairies– natural and glittering and smelling of moss– but not quite the same.

The Smithy’s doing?

Or a natural occurrence?

Regardless…

“Welp,” Legend says, straightening up, “Let's go find him. Couldn’t have gotten far on those little legs of his.”

“Again,” Twilight huffs, the black fractals already consuming him once more as he transforms, “You’re not as funny as you think...”

His voice distorts and fades into nothing as the magic swallows him whole, leaving Legend once again having a conversation with a very unimpressed looking wolf.

“I like you better when you can’t talk,” Legend tells Twilight as the other sets off, snuffling at the ground.

The other pauses to give Legend a look that would be more at home on a disapproving mother’s face, before continuing his tracking.

He also whaps Legend in the leg with his tail.

Hard.

The prick.

They continue on their trek together like that for a while, Twilight occasionally pausing to shove his nose into the dirt some more as he decides which direction to follow as Legend trails behind, keeping his eyes peeled for a quadripartite tunic and a head of straight, gold hair.

It isn't long before the farmhand turned canine breaks off into a light trot and then a jog, and then a full on sprint.

And stops just as suddenly.

Legend is out of breath by the time he slides to a stop behind the farmhand, but from a cursory glance around, there doesn’t seem to be a short, mouthy smithy anywhere in the vicinity.

“What happened?” Legend asks, still searching, turning circles as he cranes his neck, “Did you lose the trail?”

Twilight gives a light whine, grabbing Legend’s attention.

Then he does two full spins and sits primly, looking up at Legend.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Legend crinkles his nose at the canine. “Use your words.”

Wolfie rolls his eyes in a way that Legend didn’t think was possible for dogs and then stands.

The canine stares at him intently, as though making sure Legend’s eyes are locked with his own. And then he flicks his eyes over the yellow tulip he is sitting next to meaningfully. Then back to Legend. Back and forth back and forth, his eyes go for a full minute before he stops and stares at Legend once more.

Legend feels as his face wrinkles in confusion.

It's just a regular tulip, just like the thousands currently around them. Pretty enough, he supposes. The bulb seems to be a little wilted, like it's been weighed down by rain water perhaps, but other than that, nothing to sneeze at.

Or everything to sneeze at, if you’re Legend.

Legend gives the flower one more skeptical glance before turning to look at Twilight once more, brow raised.

“Pretty,” he assures the other. “Not sure how it helps us find Four.”

Twilight heaves another too human sigh.

And then he reaches up,  takes the sleeve of Legend’s tunic between his teeth, and yanks.

“Hey!” Legend yelps as he’s dragged down into the dirt, “Watch the teeth! The embroidery on this thing took forever to do and even longer to enchant!”

Twilight pays him no mind, pulling him down and forward, closer to his chosen tulip.

Legend tries his best to keep his face away from the damn thing.

“I swear on The Three, if your slobber stains–”

Legend’s words crumple up and die in his throat.

There’s something in the tulip.

At first glance, Legend would identify it as the Smithy's earring. The small feathered one that he takes special care of. The one that Four refuses to tell Legend the origin of, besides his cryptic, “From a friend.”

Legend would say that it was just the earring, but… but it isn’t.

Rather than being completely red with a white tip, Legend can see that this little feather is only mostly red. Right before the tip, a darker red plumage takes over, followed by purple and blue and green.

Also, rather than being attached to the small, golden chain and stud Four uses to fasten the jewelry to his earlobe, it’s attached to a body.

A very, very small body.

By now, Twilight has let go of his sleeve, but Legend both doesn’t notice and doesnt care, all of his attention fixed on the little creature before his eyes.

From what he can tell, the little creature is asleep, curled up in the bulb of the flower, his feather tail tucked up near his nose for warmth. Looking past the plumage, Legend can see that the little guy has a very rat-like face, complete with a small, twitching pink nose, long whiskers and–because the creature is shivering– long, chattering rodent incisors. Oval shaped ears stick out from the creature's head, a mix between mouse-like and Hylian.

And framing those ears is shoulder length, soaking wet blonde hair.

Blonde hair held out of the little guy's face by a green headband.

And…

And he’s wearing the smithy’s tunic?

“... Four?” Legend whispers in amazement.

And just saying the other’s name out loud is like a spell because suddenly Legend can see all signs. The little guy has Four’s bag over his shoulder and the Four Sword at his hip. That same magic that was by the stump– the not-fairy, fairy magic– completely surrounds him, dusting him in the same way he is currently dusted in yellow pollen.

“Is that you, Smithy?” Legend asks a little louder.

But rather than startle awake, the small creature– Four, Legend reminds himself– simply hunkers down more fully into the flower, curling up more fully as his shivers increase.

“He must have transformed in order to speak with the Minish around here.”

Twilight’s voice, even though it is a whisper, gives Legend a start. He hadn’t realized the other had transformed, nor had he seen the farmhand crouch down by his side.

The other isn’t looking at him as he speaks, cool blue eyes instead locked on the fitfully sleeping smithy, face concerned.

“He once told me that the Minish are insatiable gossips. He must have transformed to try and find us.”

The concern on the farhand’s face darkens the longer he stares.

“He must have been caught out in the storm,” Twilight says grimly.

Legend tries to imagine what that would be like. To be the size of a mouse and out in a storm. Tries to imagine what it would feel like for gale force winds to pull at drag at him, crushing him into the dirt one moment and yanking off his feet the next. Tries to imagine dodging back and forth between tulips, avoiding the head sized, stone cold rain drops pelting down from the sky

It's not a pretty pictograph, he’ll admit.

And ugh, Legend really isn't a fan of what it's making him consider.

He spares another glance at Four.

And fuck, the little guy shivers and shivers and shivers until the fower he is sleeping in is shaking with it.

And then, he sneezes, the sound coming out tiny and squeaky and weak.

Son of a bitch.

With a sigh that is as weary and reluctant and annoyed as he can possibly force it to be even though the vetran is feeling none of those things, Legend takes hold of the flower near its stem. As gently as possible, he digs his nails into the soft green there, cutting the flower from the ground while keeping it intact.

He hands it to Twilight, who takes it from him with gentle, if slightly confused hands.

With one hand, Legend flips open his shoulder bag. With the other, he rips his hat from his head with a motion probably a tad more violent than is really called for. He arranges the hat inside the bag, making sure to cover his items with the soft fabric while also shaping a soft bed.

Without looking up from his work, Legend extends a hand out to Twilight.

Makes a grabbing motion when what he wants isn't immediately in his hand.

After a second, Twilight slowly places the stem of the flower back in Legend’s hand and the Veteran gently lowers it in the small nest he had created, making sure the bulb sits in a place both shielded from the sun and extra comfortable thanks to the extra fabric padding beneath it.

In one smooth motion, Legend takes a hold of the strap of his bag, pulls it carefully off of his shoulder, and places it on the other side of Twilight’s neck.

And then, he reaches down and touches the dark stone hanging from the necklace around the farmhand’s throat, letting the darkness flock around and consume him.  

When Legend blinks open his eyes, Twilight is looking down at him smugly.

He is looking down farther than usual.

Also looking smugger than usual.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, shaking out his fur before hopping on all fours to get closer to the bag.

“I didn’t say anything,” Twilight replies, not bothing to wipe the smug look off his stupid face even as he lowers the bag to the ground for easier access.

“Yeah you did,” Legend hisses quietly as he clambers carefully into the satchel, settling down the nest of leather and items and hat.

He pulls the flower closer to his side where it is warm.

Inside, he can feel as Four’s shivers begin to lessen.

"Cute," Twilight laughs from above them.

"Fuck you," Legend whisper spits, though he makes no move to push Four's flower away. If anything, he pulls it closer when he hears the smaller hero start to make small, chittering snores, surprised the smithy could sleep through such a racket.

Twilight, thankfully, doesn't comment, instead pulling the top of the bag loosely closed to give them some shade. Then, Legend feels as he gently lifts the satchel back up, slings it slowly over his shoulder as to not disturb the contents inside, and begins walking, hopefully back in the direction of the forest.

Legend can still hear the farmhand laughing to himself from within the bag, but without the others' eyes on him, he finds he doesn't care.

The pollen still itches at his eyes and nose and Legend can still feel the pound of his sinuses even now.  But something about the shade and warmth and soft rocking of the bag makes it hard for him to mind.

Four gives a harty twitch, kicking a petal directly into Legend’s face.

And even that doesn't dissuade the veteran from his task.

Instead, Legend sighs and pulls Four even closer, relaxing despite the discomfort.

He’s got dirt on both Twilight and now Four, the two heroes with sticks most firmly inserted into their asses. He can get out of whatever chores and lectures they try to pin him with.

Yep, he thinks , distantly. That's why he did this.

For the blackmail.

And no other reason.

[wordstro]

[2:48 PM] + hero/villain au + "we're quite a pair, aren't we?" + part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

a/n: 2.5k, gender neutral as always, I know I said this is the last part but i'm gonna need a couple more or else this will be too long! warnings for cursing, wooyoung being toxic, and an astrology joke because I couldn't help myself lol

-

jung wooyoung's fiery gaze is unwavering, unrelenting, and it has you frozen to your spot. you do not know whether you are terrified or in awe of the sheer power displayed before you. flames curl around him like wings, heat scorching your skin as he moves closer. despite his promises to you, to selfishly keep you alive, you think this is it. either you will stop wooyoung, or you will die trying.

a hand on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality. back to the screams of civilians, to the skeletons clawing themselves out from the cracks in the concrete, all headed your way at a slow, daunting speed. there are so many of them, like moths swarming a flame or those zombie movies you used to watch on movie nights with your team, with wooyoung wedged between you and san and popcorn nestled in your lap. your heart withers in your chest, but the terror the looming army of skeletons dredge up within you does not quell.

hongjoong levels you with a sincere, determined look, his voice low, "you are not going up against him alone," his fingers drop from your elbow to your hand and he squeezes it as he used to when you were both in university, "not again. not anymore."

at any other time, the show of sincerity would bring you to tears after everything, but you don't have time that. not now. instead, you give him a grateful smile before you switch gears.

"it's fine, joong. you need to find seonghwa and jongho and make sure yeo...that he's..." your heart sinks in your chest as you trail off at the thought of yeosang's fate.

"i know." hongjoong sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, before he swivels on san. they have a silent exchange, one you can't decipher, but san nods in response and hongjoong grits his teeth. hongjoong's gaze keeps flickering to wooyoung's approaching figure even as he looks between you and san.

hongjoong says, "protect each other."

you both nod. hongjoong steps back, his eyes lingering on wooyoung, before he disappears into thin air, no doubt stepping into one of the many dimensions he can flit through. he's likely already on the other side of the army to confront seonghwa. the skeleton army spreads into the city streets, like ants, aimless as they descend upon the city. you ignore the guilt surging within you as you block out the screams and cries of civilians, turning your focus entirely on wooyoung.

"you think this is poetic justice or something?"

"what?" you blink sideways at san. he cranes his neck as he stares at wooyoung, and his expression is the calmest you've seen it in a while, as if all the anger has melted under wooyoung's scorching heat. all that is left is a sad sort of resolve.

"two of the three people who love wooyoung most," san gives you a sidelong glance and a knowing half-smile, "teaming up to beat his ass into the next decade. the alliance's pr team could never set something up like this."

your heart twists at his words, but you manage a small smile back. "should you really be romanticizing a beat down, san?"

"i can't help it," san shrugs, "i'm a cancer. we romanticize everything."

you snort, and san smiles, and you know right then that you are not the only one who's resolved to stop wooyoung or die trying.

before you can say another word, flames burst up into the sky all around you, a fire wall that cuts you and san off from the rest of the city. you watch some skeletons burn to crisps before you, blackened bones clattering into the rubble, cement melting.

you hear wooyoung laugh.

then a molten piece of rubble is soaring in your direction at a speed you can barely fathom, let alone dodge.

~.~.~.~.~

you come to all at once, and you feel as if you've been hit by a truck. a burning truck made of solid metal. multiple times.

you don't have time to assess the damage, only that you know your vision is blurred and you have burns and the smell of burning skin and hair is not pleasant at all and that you're - holy shit, you're practically embedded into the side of an office building, half your body hanging in the air, unsupported. you blink away the spots in your vision, shaking the ringing in your ears, and grip a steel pipe protruding from the gaping hole you've caused and look over the side of the building to -

"- fucking asshole!"

"you've said that already."

you recognize san's shout and wooyoung's infuriatingly nonchalant response, drifting from beneath you.

you lean over and recoil at the sight of san swinging at wooyoung with a vengeance you only imagined from him until this point. wooyoung dodges each hit with ease. he knows san's fighting style, even after all these months. wooyoung and san used to train together often, alongside yeosang.

"i knew you were bad at throwing punches, but i didn't know you were this bad. heartbreak made you this soft?"

wooyoung's tone is mocking, mean. you bristle, yanking at the protruding pipe beside you. it groans in protest, but you don't have any other weapons, so a giant corporation can handle a missing plumbing pipe or two.

san lands a punch. "that one's for y/n," then san tackles wooyoung to the ground, straddling him before he lands another punch on wooyoung's face. the sickening crunch seems to echo despite the chaos in the city. san's biting words echo as well, "and that's for yeosang."

wooyoung merely laughs, "is that it? yeosang hit harder than you."

san blinks, and the silence that follows has you pausing in your attempt to wrench out the stupid pipe from the cement building.

"hit?" san's voice echoes up to you, "past tense?"

wooyoung doesn't respond. san grabs him by the collar, yanking him close to say something you can't hear from up here. you finally pull the pipe from the building, water bursting from the severed pipe and spilling over you.

whatever san says to wooyoung flips a switch in him, one that you've seen too often in that underground apartment. in the blink of an eye, wooyoung has san by the throat, fire bursting from his other palm, poised and ready for the finishing blow. you lock eyes with san over wooyoung's shoulder, even as he grips wooyoung's arm. his lips are moving, and whatever he's whispering to wooyoung has anger rolling off him in waves. you jump from the side of the building, landing right behind him as you swing at his head. the road crumbles beneath you at the force of your jump, making you miss wooyoung by an inch. he turns his fire on you and it whizzes past your head, inches from your ear. the smell of burnt hair floods your senses once more.

wooyoung meets your gaze.

your grip remains tight on the pipe in your hands, but your voice wavers when you whisper, "is yeosang...is he dead? did you kill him?"

"those are two very different questions."

"woo -"

wooyoung grabs the pipe and it starts to melt in his hands, molten metal dripping between you both. you yelp at the way it burns your hands, pulling your stinging hands away just as san lunges for wooyoung's feet. without turning, wooyoung swings the pipe straight down into san's lunging hands. the movement is too fast. the instant rotting scent of burning flesh causes you to lurch back, even as san lets out a loud scream. he phases away fast enough to avoid the brunt of it, but from the way san cradles his hand against his chest as he scoots away from wooyoung, you know the pain is bad.

wooyoung rolls his eyes, brandishing the molten pipe in his hands. "this is fucking pathetic," he eyes san in annoyance, "you're fucking pathetic."

if you hadn't known what to look for, you'd have missed the way san's shoulders deflate at the insult.

you push your way between them, blocking san from wooyoung's harsh gaze. you shove wooyoung so hard he stumbles back, his eyes widening slightly as if he'd forgotten your strength. maybe he has, since you spent months unable to use it on him. then, he turns his angry, mocking eyes on you, stepping towards you.

he tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your face, "did that hit too close to home for you, y/n?"

your fists curl at your side. his gaze flickers to your fists. his smile is vindictive.

"you think after this, they'll let your crimes slide?"

he takes another step closer, flicks his wrist, and all you hear is san shout behind you before he is blocked off by a wall of fire. you're encircled by fire, by wooyoung, and wooyoung merely laughs once more.

you shove him away from you. his back hits the fire behind him, but it only seems to push him back into the circle. wooyoung is unaffected by the strength of your shoves, his gaze unwavering. each time you push him back, he stumbles back only to step forward. sometimes his flames push him back to his feet when you push him to close. he continues to advance on you as if your strength is nothing. as if it isn't enough.

if you wanted to, you could shove him a hundred meters into the ground or toss him into the sky, into one of the office buildings peeking over the wall of fire even. but you don't. despite everything, you can't. yeosang doesn't need to be here to speak the strength out of you. you know it, and so does he. san knows it too, you realize, and that's why he landed punches for you.

"stop it. don't come any closer." you grit out, shoving him once more.

he laughs. there is nothing amusing about it, "do i need to remind you what you've done?"

"i'll kill you, wooyoung," you stand your ground, arms raised, but your voice wavers when wooyoung steps even closer, until his chest brushes against your raised knuckles, "i swear i will."

"come on, y/n. we both know you can't," wooyoung snorts, "you can barely even hurt me. we're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"don't compare me to you. you've hurt me time and time again," you remind him, pushing him back once more, "you just threw a fucking lava rock at me."

he shrugs, "but did it kill you?"

you let out a scream of frustration, lunging at wooyoung, tackling him to the ground. you grip his tattered collar, ignoring the way his heated skin almost burns, and you raise your fist.

he says, with such ease, as if you aren't seconds away from breaking his nose, "killing me won't stop a thing. it won't stop your anger or any of the fighting. this is only the beginning, y/n. kill me now and you'll only create a martyr."

your fist shakes midair, your grip tightening around his collar. he's right. his ideologies have already found a foothold within disenfranchised communities. you could tell that much from the brief bits of news you were able to catch on television between serum injections and blank spaces. wooyoung is always fucking right.

wooyoung's eyes flicker from your raised fist to your face, and his eyes are unreadable.

his voice is the softest murmur, but his words cut right through you, "all i have to do is say the words, you know. then we can have the city by nightfall."

you can't imagine the idea of mindlessly joining wooyoung's side. after reconciling with hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san. after yeosang risked his life to get you out. you can't fathom why wooyoung insists on making you go through that again.

you drop your fist to his collar, and you yank him up with both hands, the sound of his collar tearing further filling the silence between you both. you search his gaze for a long moment before you whisper, "why are you doing this to me?"

it's a genuine question, and for once, wooyoung appears entirely genuine as he thinks over his response. "there are two sides to every war. those who win, and those who are dead," wooyoung's eyes flicker over your features, "i don't know what i'll do if you die, so i'm picking your side for you."

his tone is quiet, an admission almost, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. you need to get away from him. bile rises in your throat at the thought of his words, the meaning behind it, the way a miniscule part of you still stirs at the admission. you always used to wonder how he felt about you, and when he betrayed you all, you used to lament that you were not enough to make him even consider staying. now, you're getting an admission under all the wrong circumstances and for all the wrong reasons. you continue to back away, until the heatwaves emitting from his fire wall burns at your skin, sweat dripping down your back.

wooyoung merely sits up and watches your reaction with unreadable eyes.

"you're doing this because you care about me?" your voice curls around the word care. your heart hurts.

wooyoung drags a hand through his messy hair, his gaze falling to his feet for just a moment. he nods. he appears subdued like this. vulnerable.

"that's fucked up," you whisper, "it's unfair. it's - it's -"

"i know," wooyoung says, sighing as he tugs at his hair, "i know, y/n."

his brown eyes meet yours, and he holds you in his gaze for a moment too long. your fingers curl into fists as you look away first.

"what about," you grit your teeth as you address the wall of fire behind him, "what about san? joong? mingi and yunho? you don't care if they're dead?"

"if the villain alliance needs their powers, we'll have them take the serum."

he doesn't answer your second question, and you can't help but look at him again. you can see the way your question affects him though, the tick of his jaw and the brief flicker of guilt. but his words sit heavy on your shoulders.

one day, he'll take their autonomy from them as well and you'll be forced to help.

"i hate you," you tell him.

wooyoung's voice is soft with pity, "no you don't."

jung wooyoung is always right, and you hate that most of all.

another siren breaks through the city, and you're suddenly aware of just how eerie and silent the world has become. the siren doesn't sound like anything the alliance had trained you on, the low hum of horns grating on your ears. wooyoung seems to know what it means, though, craning his neck as a small grin tugs at his lips. he brushes the dirt from his tattered clothes and flicks his wrist. the flames around you dance further into the sky.

"that's your cue," he says to you.

you shake your head in a last stand of defiance. you hope he'll listen. for once. but, he sighs, as if you are merely a child throwing a tantrum.

then he says the words and your vision spots.

you disappear.

[lazychickensoup]

.the enemy in question

.1 .i’m trying

Humanity. There really is no saving it. No matter how many wars you have, how many plagues and purges, you can never actually cleanse humanity of the evil it is. The one thing you can do though is trying to get rid of the bigger problems, to have the smallest sliver of peace at the cost of a few noble sacrifices.

"Y/n get your head out of the clouds." I feel a smack to the back of my head, Porco walks past me holding his bags, classtime must be over. "You ready to have your ass handed to you at training?" I quickly gather my book and shove them into my bag to catch up.

"Yeah right, you keep talking shit yet the only thing you have been able to win against me is our bow and arrow training." I brag, walking alongside my best friend. "Let's not be late again, Zeke is gonna chew us out." Porco laughs and nods as we head to the courtyard. Of course, everyone was already outside waiting on us. We all head to our respective spots in a line awaiting General Magath.

"If you two keep showing up late you're gonna get caught and it's going to look bad on all of us. Don't let it happen again, understand?" Zeke's demanding voice sent a chill down my spine, I nod.

Magath walks up and we all straighten up. "All right you damned devils, today we're doing cardio and stamina training, you've all been slaking and slowing down so we're going to fix that right away. Heard?"

"Heard!" we shout in unison.

We all run out to the flat plain where our races usually take place. Training consist of sprinting and a 4 mile run with gear and no breaks. I absolutely despise stamina days. Running isn't exactly my strong suit, neither is breath control. Still, at least I have good comrades and even friends by my side to help me when I fall. Like Porco and Marcel; our trio had been friends since birth, well for me at least considering I'm the youngest, we all grew up in the same division and we all shared the same dream of saving the world from our damned ancestors since we learned about it in school. Although I never understood why we were responsible for the earlier generations' sins I followed along with everyone else and grew to be one of the top Marley warriors.

During the 6m sprints, we were paired up and told to race. I was paired with Marcel, by his physique I could tell he was over with today's training and was about to collapse. Easy win. Everyone stands behind us observing, Magaths eyes stare intently as we wait for him to start the timer.

"I may be tired but there's no way in hell I'll let Porco get teasing rights for letting you win." Marcel whispers. I turn my head to him earning a wink.

"Keep talking bud, I can tell by your body language there's no chance that you're gonna be running faster than me." I scoff readjusting my legs.

"Set...Go!" Magath yell. I push off from the ground gaining speed slowly but steadily. We go at the same pace for a while but Marcel gains speed. I push my pace harder while trying to focus on my breath. The finish line is just a couple of meters away but, Marcel starts slowing down. You take the advantage and pass him and cross the line first. You both lay on the ground catching your breath as everyone else makes their way to you cheering for your victory. "Marcel, I expect more from you especially considering who you are up against," Magath says walking back to the building. "Training is over for today."

"Damn Marcel. y/n beat you. Are ya getting weak old man?" Porco joked poking his elder brother. "How does it feel to finally have a win in sprints y/n I'm sure you're proud of yourself." I stand up and shuffle over to Marcel.

Smack

"You asshole. Do you think I can't win by myself? Do you think I'm weak? Well, I'm not. If you ever make yourself weaker when competing against me I'll beat you till you can't think straight." I hissed. I hate feeling weak, yes. But being treated like I was weak felt even worse. Porco put his hand on my shoulder but I shoved him away. He does the same thing but in academics. They treat me like a child that just needs to be praised to be able to do something, and it makes it hard to tell sometimes if what I excelled on was really me or if it was for me.

Later that night I heard a knock at the door. It was late at night so it could only be two things: Marcel and Porco are here to check up on me, or an officer is here for some reason. I slowly open the door to find Zeke.

"Y/n I need to speak with you in private, Commander Magath has a message." he continues to walk in past me. My parents come in looking concerned, Zeke reassures them nothing is wrong and ask permission to talk alone in my room. When they agree he grabs my wrist harshly and pulls me back to my room locking the door.

"What the hell is going on? What's so important that Magath has to send you out here so late?" I ask worried that something happened during our training today.

"Nothing, he didn't send me out here. I just needed to talk to you," he confesses. Makes sense my parents would have never just let me and him "talk" knowing what happened with his parents. It's still a little weird though. Mine and Zeke's relationship is complicated, we could be seen as brother and sister for the most part if it wasn't for our looks, but other times we absolutely hate each other. Not going to lie Zeke scares the shit out of me but I'm pretty sure it's a mutual feeling. He told me once that my "passion and devotion" was inhumane and no one should care about one specific thing so much.

"Look, you need to be doing better. I overheard Magath talking and he heard your outburst on Marcel. He said when it comes time to start picking titan holder you're definitely not going to get one with the track you are on. I wanna look out for you, we have the same goal here. I know that you aren't putting your all into it though. What's holding you back?" he asks. He wasn't completely wrong, but this is the guy that snitched on his own parents. If I told him I sometimes doubt our mission there's no telling what he would do.

"Nothing Zeke, I just don't really know what I'm doing. I can't tell my strengths from my weaknesses because of Marcell and Poc. They try to help me by making themselves look worse than me. I love them for it, but I really just need to be able to perform on my own." Once the words leave my mouth I realized what I said, basically blaming my poor scores on them. And by the look that Zeke gave me, he was going to make sure it would change. Hopefully, he goes to them instead of the commander. It actually is great if he didn't say anything at all so I could talk to them.

"I see, I will go over and talk to them after I leave then."

"No!" I say a little louder than intended.

"No?'

"Uh-yeah no don't I'll go talk to them. They'll probably listen better to me anyway. I promise this will be fixed by the morning." I beg, he gives me an unsatisfied stare adjusting his glasses.

"I suppose, but I better see you putting your all into training tomorrow. Got it?"

"Yes sir" I joke saluting him. I walk out the door with him after telling my parents I was passing the (fake) message on to the guys and that I would stay over at their house so Zeke could get back home. It was pretty risky going out at this time of night especially since it was past curfew.

I bang on the door of the Galliards hoping their parents were asleep yet. The door swings open with a loud groan coming from the person who opened it. It was Marcel wearing only shorts, my cheeks heating up at the sight of his shirtless upper body. I push him out of the way letting myself in.

"Hey! Do you know what time it is? Sleep o' clock. Leave." he says grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back out the door.

"No, I need to talk to the both of you, like right now." I stop him from closing the door in my face.

"Is it really that important that it can't wait till morning?" he leans his against the door frame making my face once again heat up. 'Dammit, Marcel why are you so effortlessly pretty?'

"Yes, I told Zeke I would have this problem fixed by morning."

"When did you have time to talk to Zeke?"

"He was just at my house."

"Excuse me? At this hour?... Come in, don't want you getting caught outside." The mention of Zeke's name made him gag. The two weren't friends, and with Zeke being much older yet not shy at all when it comes to physical touch or choice of words, Marcell had a protectiveness towards you when it came to him. He stealthy leads you to his room answering your question of if his parents were asleep or not.

"Okay what was so important that you needed to sneak out past curfew to talk to me?" he ask again laying out some blankets for you to sleep on.

"I need Poc too. It's about earlier..." your voice gets lower, you replay the scene in your head and realized that your reaction was a little dramatic.

"Oh yea, your gonna beat me till I think straight was it?" Marcel teased watching curl into a ball on his bed with a groan. He makes his way over and lets all his body weight fall onto you.

"Marcel get off you big oaf!" you whine, giggling as he reaches for your sides and starts poking. You try to conceal your laughter not to wake anyone up, but you can't and Porco swings open the door.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he asks rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His eyes set on me and he rushes to close the door and get near. "What are you doing here it's past curfew!" he whispers yells.

"I needed to talk to you both. Marcel is just messing around." You catch your breath sitting up on the bed. You all get situated into a spot finally getting serious. "Look I love you both, BUT you need to stop helping me out during school and training. You don't think I notice but I do. It's holding me back and making me look like the weak link. I can't even tell what I'm good at because you'll purposely do badly on a test." The boys look at each other with their heads down. Your eyes go back in forth between the two, it was like they were talking telepathically, mouths not moving but having a whole conversation in front of you.

"Look Y/n we didn't mean any harm. We were just trying to get you in the light so the commander could see you." Porcos words were harsh but he means well. Marcel elbows his younger brother for how he ignorantly said his plead.

"What this idiot is trying to say is that we can tell you try but maybe...you arent...trying your best? We are trying to push you to be better than us by messing with your mind so instead of wondering if you were better or not you would just be your best and it would pass us," he explained, his eyes widening in fear when he seeing your hurt face.

"You don't think I try hard enough? I've been pushing myself ever since we started this damn thing! I've been the smallest, the weakest, the dumbest from day one. Why in the world would mess with my mind help at all? You leave me confused and I try and try but it's never good enough." Marcel comes near to comfort you but you push him away. Your best friends think so little of you. "Don't please, just promise me you will stop. I wanna beat both your asses fair and square, alright?" you force out a laugh to lift the mood. Both the boys nod quickly and pile on top to hug you.

"I don't like it when you get mad, your all bitchy." Porco says earning a smack from you. He goes back to his room leaving you and Marcel alone again. You both stay up for a while talk for a bit before going to bed. He insists you take the bed while he lays on the floor as always.

"Good night y/n. I'm waking you up extra early for keeping me up this late." you both giggle. You laying on the edge of the bed face to face with him on his knees. Your faces get closer and closer. You can feel his breath on your face. You two had feelings for each other, yea, you both knew it. But neither of you acted on it, you knew it would be difficult when you got drafted and you would rather wait till you got older anyway, your mother is always rambling about how young relationships never last. Marcel goes forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead. You smile at him before he lays down. As your drift off to sleep you hear him whisper one last thing.

"We'll get there one day after we both save humanity."

---

words: 2.3k

hope yall enjoy a try at a new fic, I've been planning this forever so hopefully I'll stay motivated to keep writing. ALSO IK IT LOOKS LIKE A MARCEL FIC BUT IT NOT LOL. just helps with the feeling and the dramatic :)