#so many other things he's a part of that I could tag this with

[confusedshades]

Some gorgeous tags that made me think about what the middle part would look like

Martha had just finished reading her book, switched off the lamp, and laid down when Jonathan came in, grumbling about something or the other under his breath. Usually it used to be about something or the other from town or about some of the new nonsense that the politicians were trying their hand at; nowadays it was about Jor.

"Anything the matter dear?" She asked - and Martha wasn't expecting anything more than the nightly "Nothing big love, go to sleep." but what she got was Jonathan sitting at the foot of the bed and staring out of the one window in their room. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan sighed deep. She couldn't help noticing how upset and determined he seemed in the light that snuck in from the cracked open bedroom door. "Martha I am so lucky to have you in my life, for you to love me so unconditionally but I am having unpleasant thoughts about our latest addition."

Martha, completely nonplussed about what Jonathan was getting at couldn't utter more than a bewildered "What?" She scooted closer to the foot of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jonathan I have no clue what you're going on about." She thought they'd made some good progress given the whole hay bale incident today but maybe she was mistaken.

"I..." Jonathan scrubbed at his face furiously. "I think Jor-El has been flirting with you these past few weeks."

A moment of pin drop silence passed as Martha processed this before she burst into giggles. Jonathan sighed. He'd known there was a possibility that Martha would be flattered or even receptive to such attentions - probably given they were from someone from another planet, after all how many people could claim to have an alien spouse or lover - he just didn't think she'd giggle like she was in high school again. Didn't mean he had to like it either.

A few minutes of Martha's inconsolable giggles passed; Jonathan trying to make his peace with what he knew was coming and Martha attempting to catch her breath. "Jonathan, darling, he's flirting with you, not me!"

"I don't think that's how people flirt with men Martha." Jonathan muttered, glad the low light hid his red ears.

Martha simply patted his back and moved back to her spot in bed. "Maybe not on Earth Jonathan, but who knows? Maybe things were different on Krypton."

I want an AU where Jor-El survived with Clark and they both crash on earth together.

The image of Pa Kent worrying this smoking hot extraterrestrial DILF is gonna steal his wife is so funny to me. His baby IS adorable, thought, so he can stay.

Jor-El is actually courting BOTH him and Martha.

Is this an elaborate scheme so I can get Bruce being cornered by a big ass Kryptonian father who’s adamant he completes their courting rituals?

Perhaps.

Jor-El is tall like a mountain and calm like a river, pinning Bruce down with a hard stare as he explains the process in their own language. Which Bruce WILL study and learn if he wants a shot.

Clark sighs, “He says the suitor can pick any activity they please as long as the rules are fair. If they fail to win, the parent can,— dad, I’m not translating that.”

He doesn’t need to. Bruce learned Kryptonian since the first day they met. Jor-El’s torture methods are definetly creative. “Hn.”

He knows what he has to do.

—

“…Did you just win Clark in a game of poker?”

Bruce shrugs, hoarding the winning tokens while Jor-El rages. “I also won an apple pie.”

Ma Kent is cackling.

[slytherinshua]

♤　TRUSTING YOU　( 徐明浩 )

genre fluff , minghao x fem!reader   cw reader has a slight fear of riding a motorcycle , not proofread   wc 603   request anon for minghao + a scuffed motorcycle helmet for the 3k event   note someone get me out of this minghao brainrot (or don't...)   net @kstrucknet

“Get on, it’s okay,” your boyfriend, Minghao, coaxed in a soft voice. You stared at his black motorcycle with fear and anxiety in your eyes. You had never ridden before and you would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly terrified of it. When you were a kid, you only viewed motorcycles as noisy and scary, dots of black zipping through the streets. But when you met Minghao, he changed your view on a lot of things, including the practicalities of riding a motorcycle. 

He didn’t just own one because it was easier to take care of than a car, and cheaper, but riding was more relaxing. He often went on rides to relax or clear his head, and you wanted to understand what enjoyment he got out of it. Being so opposite to Minghao in so many ways, learning from each other was one of the most beautiful things about your relationship together. 

It was a clear night out, the perfect temperature for a ride through the deserted roads. If you could only get past your fear, you knew you would find out what Minghao loved so much about motorcycles.

You awkwardly positioned yourself on the back of the seat, somehow feeling unsteady even though the bike was parked and not moving yet. Minghao smiled at you, love overflowing in his gaze. You two had been dating for a long time, and there was no doubt you would spend the rest of your life together. The amount of affection and adoration you held for him was uncountable. You trusted him completely. There was nothing to be scared of if he was by your side.

He pulled his old slightly scuffed helmet from the handle of the vehicle and fastened it on your head carefully. Giving you one last reassuring glance before he flipped the visor part down, tinting your vision. He took his place in front of you, flipping the kickstand up with his foot but still keeping the bike’s balance with one leg. 

“Hold onto my waist, okay? I got you.”

Minghao’s soft voice always soothed your nerves. You found a secure grip around his waist, clutching onto the fabric of his tank top in the front a little tighter than necessary. You heard him chuckle before revving the bike and taking his foot off the ground. Not a second later, you were travelling down the street. Although you were sure he couldn’t be going faster than 40 kilometers or so, it felt much faster. 

You rested your helmeted head against his back carefully, hugging him tightly. It would be hard to hear anything over the noise of the engine, and although you first thought you would need Minghao to coax you through it a bit more, you soon got used to the feeling of riding. The flurry of nerves in your stomach was replaced with excitement, and you realized why Minghao liked it so much. 

There was something quite peaceful about it, travelling on the open road without being trapped inside a car. Feeling the breeze hit your leather riding gear and smelling the faint scent of Minghao’s perfume from his helmet. With no one else on the road, it was intimately just you and your boyfriend experiencing the moment together. You were sure you would think back to this moment years from now, a testament to how much you trusted the man you had dedicated the past few years to. Another proof of how Minghao’s patience was one of the things you loved the most about him. His steadiness calming your anxiety when you needed it most. 

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,,

@shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,,

@wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,,

@parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,,

@lexeees

[macabrebatz]

GIFT EXCHANGE (Art the Clown/Reader)

Pt. 2 of O, Christmas Tree

Summary: You celebrate Christmas with Art

Author’s Note: Meant to post this on Christmas Day but I felt like crap. Hope you all enjoy a little late Christmas fluff. Happy holidays to everyone! Also thank you @hauntedfoodie for the this cute idea of exchanging gifts with Art!

Warnings/tags: Fluff, Art being Art, reader is filled with anxiety mainly due to Art, Vicky is briefly mentioned, gender neutral reader, spot the Scream reference, can be read as platonic or romantic to be honest, once again…are they roommates or lovers? You decide.

It had been a few weeks since Art had surprised you by decorating for Christmas. The tree he had gotten sat as a constant reminder of his rare but much-needed kindness.

Christmas was only in a few days. You couldn’t help but stare at the gifts below the tree. Your curiosity was getting the better of you.

At first, you had been very concerned about the gifts under the tree. What Art did was a kind gesture. Sure. But you knew Art. You knew the kind of being he was. You weren’t oblivious.

You’ve received presents from Art in the past. Presents is a strong word actually. What you had received was more of what you would call “evidence from a crime scene that Art most definitely caused wrapped up in a little box with a bow”.

However, your concern slowly dissipated when you found yourself examining the gift boxes early one morning. Art had wandered off, nowhere to be found. You had figured he was out on one of his usual sprees. Since you were alone you took the opportunity to sit in front of the tree, picking up each box.

There weren’t many which you saw as a good thing. If there were any body parts in them at least it wouldn’t be a lot.

You looked for anything that could be a sign of something gross or disturbing. No boxes were leaking any blood so that was a good start. None of the boxes smelled bad which was another good sign.

You picked up one of the black boxes, examining it with your hands. No blood, no smell. Much like the others.

You gave it a gentle shake and sighed in relief. For a moment you were scared that you might hear something crawling around in one of the boxes. You wouldn’t have been shocked if Art had snuck one of Vicky’s rats in the box to scare you.

You sat the box down with the others and a small smile spread across your face. You were still mentally preparing yourself. Just because he had opted out of body parts doesn’t mean that Art’s presents were going to be a joy to open. But you were still pleasantly surprised that the presents under the tree seemed fairly normal.

A few days passed and Christmas Eve was in full swing. Art had showed up at your house, covered in blood. The white trim of the Santa costume was no longer white. It wasn’t surprising to you. It was a routine at this point.

Art would leave for a prolonged amount of time, sometimes even days. Then he’d come to your house and you’d help clean him up. Despite his teeth and occasionally his hands, Art surprisingly seemed to like being clean after a long day of causing absolute mayhem. You would never fuss when he got blood all over your floor. And he would never put up a fuss when you lead him to the bathroom and put him in the shower.

Art had finished his shower before either of his costumes had dried all the way. You couldn’t convince him to wear anything different so he opted to roam around the house nude.

“Are you not cold?” You questioned.

He simply shook his head with a smile. You couldn’t help but giggle as he sauntered off.

Eventually, the suit was dry and you took it to Art, who got dressed.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked the clown, watching him as he pulled his gloves onto his hand.

Art perked up and put his finger to his lips, tapping as if he were thinking of an answer. He grinned, nodding his head.

You both made your way to the living room and got comfortable on the couch. You found yourself watching multiple movies. A couple of Christmas classics and a couple of horror movies. Eventually, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, your head falling onto Art.

The next morning you woke up from your curled position on the couch, jumping at the sight of Art right in your face. He was sitting on the floor in front of you, silently staring at you with a smile on his face. On his head, he donned a Santa hat. You couldn’t help but wonder how long he had sat there like that. You weren’t fully sure if he even needed to sleep.

“Merry Christmas, Art.”

He stood up and grabbed your arms, pulling you up to a sitting position. He then walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up one of the black boxes under it.

Your stomach did a flip as he placed the box in your hands. It was rather light and it was wrapped up nicely with a little red bow on top.

Art sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. He patted his knees as he smiled at you.

All you could do was hope that whatever was in the box was normal as you hesitantly began unwrapping the box. Art was grinning ear to ear and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The wrapping paper dropped onto the floor as you began to open the box. Inside was crinkly, red paper that you pulled out of the box. Underneath was an oversized dark red sweater. You pulled it out slowly, holding it up to look at it. Your fingers ran over the material. It was a good-quality sweater. You weren’t sure how or where Art had gotten it. It wasn’t like he was the type to go shopping. But he was the type to take stuff. You shrugged off the mental image of Art taking it from one of his victims. It was best not to linger.

You held up the sweater and smiled. It didn’t really matter where he got it, you couldn’t believe that Art had gotten you something so nice.

“Thank you so much, Art,” you said.

You slid down off of the couch onto the floor in front of where he sat and leaned over to hug him. He excitedly embraced you back.

You pulled off of him and looked under the tree.

“Okay, you’re next,” you said.

Art made a shocked face as if he were going to say, “You got a present for me?”

You grabbed a red box you had put under the tree a few days ago and Art gleefully took it from your hands. He quickly ripped off the wrapping and opened the box revealing a Bowie knife with a shiny white handle.

Art flipped it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He grinned as he slid his finger along the blade and poked the tip of his digit on the pointed end.

“I was watching this movie while you were gone and these killers had a knife like that. I thought you would like it. And then I may or may not have snuck into the workshop to see if you already had one. And you didn’t, which is surprising-”

Art caused you to stop rambling when he surprised you with a hug. He never stopped you from hugging him but it was rare that he initiated it. He wrapped his arms around you. It was his way of silently thanking you.

You pulled away from Art with a smile. You glanced at the presents under the tree.

“Ready for the next one?” you asked.

Art nodded, clapping his hands together excitedly.

From the outside, the situation you found yourself in was odd, to say the least. Maybe it was even a little concerning. Living with a murderous clown wasn’t really on your bucket list nor did you ever expect to be spending a holiday with one. But here you were, exchanging gifts with the Miles County Clown. But despite the absurdity of it all, maybe spending Christmas with him wasn’t so bad after all.

[enbyfvcker]

[Through the phone]

Wade Wilson x Logan (worst!wolverine)

Word count: 1,4k

Summary/prompt: Logan isn't used to this technology thing, but he lets Wade gift him a phone to make him happy. Turns out he finds rather... enticing ways to use his new phone when Wade's away on a job and he's feeling extra needy.

Tags: Smut, established relationship, sub/dom undertones, soft!dom Wade, masturbation, praise kink, phone sex, Logan likes being talked through it.

Wade liked to drag Logan along with him for shopping like he usually does after receiving from his mercenary jobs. He liked spoiling his little kitty cat and buying him stuff.

Logan would say 'no' at first, but then Wade would insist and insist, and well, he was mostly bored anyway, so he eventually gives in. When it comes to Wade, Logan usually gives in.

They were both in their civvies: Logan wearing denim pants, a wife pleaser, and a flannel. All his clothes were bought by Wade after he moved in. He apparently seemed to know what Logan likes or not.

Wade was wearing a hoodie and with the hood over his head. Logan noticed that the merc still wasn't fully in his comfort zone when he went out in public without his suit because of his appearance. But he seemed to deal better with it - with all the stares - when Logan was there by his side.

Wade was strolling around with the cart filled with things (variating from cleaning products, towels, food, unicorm plushies...) while Logan follows behind him, his hands in his pockets.

Wade comes to a stop when they pass over the eletronics session, looking at all the mobiles on display.

"Hey, peanut?"

"Hm."

"You don't really have a phone, do you? Wanna pick one?" Wade asks with a grin.

"Why?"

"Well, isn't it inconvenient?"

"Not really... I can't think of a situation where I would need one. And I'm also not really good with... Technology and stuff."

"Oh, okay..." Wade pouts like a hurt child, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"Well, what if you miss me one day when I'm out for a job and wanna talk to me? You could also always text Laura to check up on her sometimes." Wade suggests and gives a dramatic sigh. "But well, if you don't want it..."

Logan considers for a moment and grunts lowly as he walks to the phones on display and tries to pick one. Wade watches with sparkling eyes and a grin.

He didn't really know the difference between the damn things. There were so many models, so he just chose a random one and placed it in the cart.

"There."

"Yay! Can't wait to introduce you to the technology world. You might wanna stay away from Ao3, though... there's some pretty nasty stuff in there. I mean, I love 'em, don't get me wrong. But I don't think you'd be pleased with what our fans fantasize about us."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Logan asks with an raised eyebrow. He was used to Wade saying weird shit like that. Honestly, he should just stop trying to understand the guy.

"Nothing, princess! Let's check out, shall we?"

...

It took some teaching from Wade for Logan to understand how to use his new phone. He didn't really use it much, though. But Wade was right. It was nice being able to talk to Laura and hear about how she's doing more often. They would meet and hang out every couple week, but her life seemed pretty busy after she started college. So now they could always call each other to catch up.

Wade was also right about... Well, the other part.

Usually, Logan would come along with Wade to help with any missions, but sometimes Wade would just go alone.

It was dark outside already, and it has been some hours since Wade wasn't home. Times like that, when he’s bored and lonely, he craves a drink more than anything. It was really damn hard trying to stay sober.

He walks to Wade's room and lies on his stomach on the bed, grunting with a soft rumble on his chest.

He missed Wade.

God, he can't believe it.

The apartment was finally silent for once, and he missed Wade's stupid voice.

He feels ridiculous.

Logan sniffs on the pillows, smelling Wade's scent. He smelled like gun powder and strawberry lotion. He feels his cock harden at the scent and he groans with frustration, his cheeks a soft blush and his eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenches as he starts to rut slowly against he matress, feeling completely pathetic.

It wasn't enough.

He takes his phone from his pocket and turns on his back, dialing the third contact from alphabetic order from his list.

He only has 3:

Althea

Laura

Wade

It rings and rings, and Logan almost just cancels the call, but then he hears Wade's voice.

"Hi, peanut. Missing me already? I do, too, honey- Motherfucker! Have some manners, can't you see I'm on the phone!" Wade grunts in pain over the line after apparently taking a couple shots.

"Is this not a good time?" Logan asks with a low voice, his hand moving down his own abdomen.

"No, no, baby girl. I always have time for you." Logan feels his cock twitching at Wade's words, his breathing getting more elaborated. He could hear Wade grunting, probably in the middle of a fight. "Don't worry, as I soon as I wrap this up, I'm coming home to you, kitten."

Logan usually scowl and reprimanded Wade at the pet names he usually uses, but Wade could hear softs gasps over the line so quietly he almost misses it, and if he had any eyebrows, they'd be raised.

"Don't take long." Logan whispers, his voice hoarse as he palms himself over his boxers.

"What are you doing?" Wade asks with a clear grin on his voice, and Logan hears a few shotguns and screams.

"Talking to you." Logan replies bluntly. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan when he slipped his hand under his underwear to touch himself properly. He gives a couple slow strokes, biting his lip strongly enough to draw blood.

"Nothing more?"

"No..."

"Oh, my little honey badger, you're a terrible liar." Wade accuses, making Logan's cheeks flush harder. "Are you that needy, hm? Kitty can't wait for me to get home?"

Wade doesn't receive a response, only desperate whimpers that were clearly escaping through bitten lips. He runs his katana through a couple of criminals and chuckles to himself.

"So cute, princess. You just needed to hear my voice, didn't you? I bet you must be dripping all over my bed right now. Bad boy... Gotta train you to learn and wait for me."

"Wade..." Logan grunts, his hand moving faster at a steady rhythm, his eyed shut tightly as he imagines it is Wade's scarred hands on him. He rubs his thumb over his tip and whines.

"It's okay, baby. I'll let it slide this time. Be a good kitty and make yourself feel good, yes? You sound so pretty."

Logan moans louder at the praise, his cock twitching and leaking pre cum into his fingers. He starts rutting his hips up, fucking his fist at a desperate pace.

"Keep talking..." Logan half begs half commands, making Wade smirk under his mask as he dodges from a chair that hit the wall behind him.

"You know, for someone who's always telling me to shut up, you sure sound quite desperate for it right now. I know you love it, kitten, even if you won't admit it. I know you love hearing me say how good you are for me, how pretty you look when you're all messy and pliant under me, how much of a good fucking boy you are..."

Logan straight up whimpers.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me and make a mess all over yourself, baby?"

"Wannabegood, wannabegood, wannabegood..." Logan babbles between needy moans, and Wade knew he was close.

"I know you do, princess." Wade shots the last one of the criminals and they drop dead to the floor along with the others. "Cum for me."

"Wade, fuck-!" He whines as he spills all over his fist and stomach, his back arching off the bed. He strokes himself through the aftershocks, his moans turning into heavy pants as he catches his breath. He feels a rush of embarrassment as his mind clears off, but then he hears Wade praising him.

"Good kitty. Alright, I'm done here." Wade says as he looks to all the bodies around him. "I'm coming home, darling! I have a boner the size of a lighthouse right now. It's really hard focusing on fighting like this."

Logan chuckles, his breathing still heavy. "Just come home already."

[kaliforniahigh]

birds of a feather, we should stick together - n.s. (part one)

Best friends to lovers, fake dating and best friend Noah <3

Warnings: a mean character, curse words, Noah makes fun of fine line tattoos, lies and reader trying to fit in to the best of her abilities. If I missed something, let me know!

Part 2 is in the works and coming soon!

WC: 4.3k words.

Requests are closed for now / Click here to be added to the permanent tag list <3

To say you were overly excited to meet up with your high school friends would be a total lie. When you told Noah they arranged a lunch date, to remember the good old days, he scoffed, and asked you why you even stayed in the group chat with these people.

Truth is, they weren't all bad. Acually, most of them were pretty nice, It was the Regina George of the group, also known as Jade, who fucked up the vibes.

Jade was a mean girl, and she never understood why you were friends with the awkward emo kid, with the side-swept bangs. This emo kid being your best friend, Noah Sebastian, who was the first person you met when you enrolled in a new school, in the middle of the school year.

It was 6th grade, and you had just moved to Richmond, VA. Your dad was transferred, so you had to find a new home, in a new city.

You and Noah became friends fast, being paired up by your English teacher during reading classes, you talked more than you actually read. He found out, that even though it didn't look like it, you enjoyed the same bands as he did. And that you learned to play acoustic guitar from a pretty young age.

You told him that your dad was in a band during his college years, but, due to adult responsabilities, it became more of a hobby for him than anything else.

Soon, the two of you were inseparable. Walking down school corridors together, him going to your house to do homework, and showing you around the city on the weekends.

You were the one who took school more seriously than him, and you were the one who ended up going to college and getting your Master's degree right after. But he was the one who always took you to watch his band practice, who took you to watch his friends - who were always much older than the two of you - perform.

When you were both 15, Noah told you he was going to drop out of high school. You weren't too happy, because you wouldn't have your best friend with you anymore, but you always knew the time would come, and were surprised he didn't decide to do it much sooner.

And that's how you met Jade and her friends. You weren't popular by any means, but, one day, she approached you and asked you how you styled your hair so nicely, and how she loved your pink tips.

You wanted to tell her that your best friend helped you. When you told Noah you wanted a splash of color in your hair, he went to the store with you to buy the necessary things. He wanted you to do purple, but you settled on pink. You remember him huffing in annoyance, telling you that pink was such a boring color.

At home, he helped you with the back of your head, while you spread the vivid color on the front pieces. It turned out amazing, and you joked that he could be a hair stylist if this band thing didn't work out.

Noah and Jade never really got along. The first day they met, Noah was picking you up from school, waiting for you in the parking lot. You remember Jade making a backhanded remark about his tattoos and the way he dresses, and Noah's face turned sour immediately.

After that, anytime they were in the same vicinity, shady comments were thrown by both of them. Noah always commenting about how the bleach in her hair must've gotten to her brain, and Jade commenting about how Noah was a wannabe rockstar.

Noah asked you many times why you kept her around, instead of dumping her and finding new friends, and you always explained how it wasn't that easy.

This was high school, and everyone already had their group of friends, not really being keen on letting other people in. Besides, without him there, and without the girls, you truly had no one else.

At the end of the day, he understood. Noah himself had a hard time making friends, and to this day, he never understood how someone like you decided to befriend him. He knew how being solitary could ruin your years in high school.

Now, sitting in this overpriced lunch spot they found downtown, you were contemplating your life choices as you tried to eat your Caeser salad without grimacing. All of them ordered fucking salads, and you did the same, not wanting to be the only one ordering chicken parm.

"Girlies", Jade said, wiping her mouth with a napking and setting it back down on her lap. "I know this is a reunion, but I have such good news", she clapped her hands excitedly. Typical Jade, always wanting the attention on her.

Everyone stopped eating to pay attention to what she was saying.

"So, you know how Peter proposed to me last year, right?", everyone nodded yes. "We're getting married in two months!", she exclaimed, reaching inside her Louis Vitton bag and pulling out what seemed to be wedding invitations. "And all of you are invited!"

The girls cheered and started to hug her, you did the same, expressing your happines for your friend.

"It's going to be in the Bahamas, in an all-inclusive resort", she informed, handing out the wedding invitations. Meanwhile, you were wondering with what money you were getting your ass to the Bahamas.

"Peter is paying all the expenses, for everyone, so don't even worry about it", she said, as if reading your thoughts.

Jade got engaged to the kind of person everyone thought she was going to date. Peter was a hot shot plastic surgeon based in LA. You had no doubt he racked up millions of dollars every month just fixing people's faces. Jade herself had something new done everytime you met up.

"What about you, Y/N? Who are you bringing as your plus one?", Emma asked. You guess you zoned out and missed part of the conversation.

"You're bringing your boyfriend, right?", Lily chimed in.

Did they even know if you had a boyfriend or not? You looked around the table, all the girls waiting for your answer. You didn't know what to say. Suddenly, your eyes noticed all of their beautiful engagement rings, and you didn't have the courage to say you were still single.

"Yeah, of course", you answered, hoping you were convincing.

"Uhh, that's amazing! Who is he?", Jade asked, excitment coating her voice.

Shit. Who the fuck would you say is your boyfriend?

"Noah", you said. He was the first person to come to mind, and you didn't hesitate to say his name.

You saw Jade's face twist in a frown.

"You're dating Noah?", she asked, judgment evident in her tone.

"Hmm, yeah, for a while now", you were lying through your teeth at this point.

"Well", she shrugged. "I guess it was always gonna happen anyways", and just like that, the rest of the girls went back to their conversations, while you mulled over what the hell you had just done.

You were already gonna tell Noah to come with you to the wedding the moment she handed out the invitations, which, was going to be a difficult task in itself, since Noah held a grudge against Jade to this day. But you were sure you could convince him with the all-inclusive resort argument.

Now, not only did you have to convince him to go with you, but you had to tell him you told the girls you were dating?

You were already thinking of excuses not to go.

When everyone was finished with their meals, they slowly started to say their goodbyes. You did the same, giving each one of them a kiss on the cheek as you made your way out of the restaurant and to your car.

When you got in, you instantly fished your phone from your purse, dialing Noah's number.

"You need saving from the botox bitch?", Noah answered the phone. You rolled your eyes, but laughed anyway.

"I'm already leaving the restaurant, actually. I was calling to ask if I can come over"

"Since when do you call to ask if you can come over?", he asked, confusion in his voice. He was right, you usually just showed up.

"I don't know? To make sure you're home?"

"You know I'm always home"

"Can I comer over or not?", you asked again, a hint of fake annoyance in your voice.

"Of course you can"

"Then I'll see you in fifteen", you said, hanging up the phone and starting your car.

On the way over to Noah's house, you've been thinking about how you were going to break the news. You still had a little while to think about what you were going to tell him, but, you knew that as soon as he saw your face, he'd know you were hiding something from him.

So, without an actual plan, you decided to tell him today. That way, you wouldn't have to torture youself for days with this information, and you gave him more time to prepare. That is, if he even decided to go.

You trusted your abilities to convince him, though. Noah had a history of doing whatever you wanted just to see you happy, and you never took advantage of that, but desperate times call for for desperate measures. Besides, a vacation to the Bahamas, with all expenses paid, didn't seem all that bad. Even if you had to endure Jade for a few days.

Parking outside, you gave yourself a pep talk before leaving your car and locking it behind you. Using your spare key, you unlocked the front door and made your way inside the living room, announcing your arrival by calling Noah's name.

"I'm right here, what are you yelling for?", he answered from the couch, the PS5 controller in his hands. You just shrugged in answer, and sat next to him.

Grabbing your purse, you pulled out the fancy wedding invitation Jade had handed to you, and set it on the couch beside him and between the two of you. Grabbing it and reading what was written in gold letters, Noah's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh, so the queen of botox is getting married to the king of botox?", you gave him a sideways glance, but smiled at his nicknames for the couple. It did suit them, after all.

"Yeah, they are. Jade couldn't help but announce it today", you pointed out.

"Well, are you going?", he asked, setting the invitation back down.

"Hmm. It depends, I guess", you answered, avoiding his eyes and you could tell he already clocked that something is wrong.

"Why?", he asked, a little hesitant.

"Jade said we can bring a plus one"

"Yeah, you usually can at weddings"

"And I was thinking....", you trailed off and looked at him, seeing the exact moment the realization dawned on him, and he immediately started to shake his head.

"There is no way", he said, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen. You got up as well and went after him.

"Why not?", you asked him, a little bit of whining in your voice.

"Are you seriously asking 'why not'?"

"I mean, I know you don't like her, but c'mon, this is gonna be a nice wedding. Besides, it's in the Bahamas, and Peter is paying for everything", you argued.

"Is it's because it's in the Bahamas, I can pay for a vacation for us in the Bahamas, no problem", he crossed his arms against his chest.

"It's not because of that"

"Y/N", he stepped closer towards you. "You know you can just go alone, right?"

"I can't go alone", you huffed in annoyance, because his argument was totally valid, but you did not have that option anymore, all because of your big mouth and will to please everyone.

"Why not?", he asked, confusion etched all over his face.

"Because...", your shoulders slumped as you realized the gravity of your mistake.

"Hey", he grabbed your shoulders, sensing your discomfort. You were never uncomfortable around him, so this behaviour from you scared him a little bit. "You can tell me, what is it?"

"I told them I have a boyfriend", you say, voice low and a little embarassed.

"But you don't have a boyfriend", he observed the obvious, having difficulty in understanding where you were going with this.

"I told them it was you", you looked down towards the floor, fingers going to rub your forehead as you waited for his reaction. The seconds ticked by, and the silence ate you alive.

"You...", he started, but stopped himself in his tracks, head going over what you just told him, to make sure he got it right. "You told them we were dating?", you answered with a head nod, still looking down.

"Y/N", he said your name with a little bit of annoyance lacing his tone. He looked up at the ceiling, as if willing the heavens to give him the strength to deal with you.

"I know, I know", you say, looking up at him. "It was just that they were drilling me about this and I didn't know what to do!"

"Tell them you're not dating anyone?", he deadpanned, and you hated that he kept stating the obvious.

"Yeah, but they already see me as the odd one out, what are they gonna think when I tell them that I'm almost thirty and not dating anyone? They're all engaged, for fucks sake!", you exclaimed and started to pace around the kitchen.

"You worry about what they think of you too much", Noah pointed out. He hated the way you felt like you always had to please them, they way you always thought you had to fit in into their world.

"It's ok, I'll just come up with an excuse so I don't have to go to the wedding", you waved your hand, dismissing this conversation. You were already feeling your head start to throb. You made your way to the couch, grabbing your purse, and the invitation.

Behind you, you hear Noah let out a big breath, before softly calling out your name. You stopped in front of the door and turned around to face him.

"You owe me big fucking time", he pointed a finger at you, and you couldn't help but let a smile dance over your lips.

"You're gonna do this?", you asked, a little doubtful.

"You're doing my laundry for two weeks", he comprimised. "No, three weeks. Fuck it, you're doing my laundry for a whole fucking month"

You cheered at this, not minding it one bit. His laudry was easy since he only had black clothes.

You skipped your way over to him, reaching your arms up and circling them around his neck to pull him into a hug. You couldn't see, but he had a smile on his lips as well.

At this moment, Noah thinks he would do just about anything to keep you happy.

"At least she can't make fun of your hair anymore", you observed, as you parted from him. He groaned in reply.

"Don't fucking push it", he warned you, but there was no real threat to his words.

"Oh!", you snapped your fingers as you remembered an important information about the wedding. "I forgot to tell you something"

"What is it?", he asked, looking at you sideways in suspiscion.

"It's at an all-inclusive resort", you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. "Besides", you continued "Jade's probably gonna invite so many people, we won't even cross paths with her", you observed.

"I hope you're right"

To say you had a lot of time to prepare was a lie. Time flew by incredibly fast, and in between work, choosing a dress and picking up a suit for Noah - who complained endlessly about having to wear it, you argued that he can't wear a black tank top to a wedding, and he huffed and puffed even more - you were only one day away from boarding the plane.

You were going over everything in your suitcase. Another thing Noah was going to complaing about, you can hear his voice in your head asking you why you needed so much stuff. You zipped it up when you decided that obsessively thinking if you forgot anything was not going to make you magically remember something.

You texted Noah that you were ready for him to pick you up. You both decided it was best if you slept over at his house, and he was asking one of the boys to drive you over to the airport for practical reasons.

It wasn't too long before you heard honking outside, signaling Noah's arrival. You took everything you needed, and looked around you to make sure you locked everything up, and when you were satisfied with your quick inspection, you walked over and opened the front door.

Noah was opening the trunk when he saw you.

"Don't say anything", you raised your hand up to stop the words you were sure were going to stumble from his lips. He raised his arms up in surrender and didn't say anything. But, he did make overexaggerated grunting noises as he hauled your bags inside the trunk. You ignored him and went to lock your front door instead.

Getting in the car and driving away, you pulled your phone from your pocket.

"Jade already texted the flight information", you observed.

"At least she's competent", he retorted.

"Imma need you to try and be civil, at least. Remember we're going to enjoy the beach and drinks", you reminded him of what you've been saying for the past weeks. "And you can't call them botox queen and botox king".

"If she doesn't talk shit about my tattoos, we'll be fine", he argued back.

"Her husband has tattoos", you pointed out, as if that makes the situation any better.

"I bet it's some fine line pussy ass tattoo of a lion or some shit like that", he grunted in annoyance, remembering he's gonna have to deal with Jade AND her husband.

"You know what?", you rubbed you chin in thought. "I think it actually is", you pondered, and you both couldn't help but cackle out loud about the fact that he was most likely right about the tattoo.

The rest of the day went on without a hitch. You ordered some food so you didn't get any pans or pots dirty before traveling, and soon, you were both ready for bed, since you were leaving pretty early in the morning to catch your flight.

You were getting comfortable in Noah's left side of the bed, when he came in the room, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, joining you under the covers.

Plugging your phone to charge, you turn to look at him, doing the same.

"Did you set the alarm?", you asked and he hummed a yes. "Did you set it really loud?", he hummed in reply once again.

He knew you got anxious whenever you had to do something important in the morning. You always thought some entity was going to disable the alarms you set on your phone and you wouldn't wake up in time.

"Don't worry, we'll get there with lots of time to spare", he reassured you, and opened his arms so you could lay against his chest.

Sleep found you easily, as it always did whenever you and Noah slept on the same bed. You were used to sleeping in an empty house, since you've been living on your own ever since you moved for college. But to say your sleep was calm and serene was a lie.

With him, you felt safer, like he could protect you from everything and anything. You trusted him more than you trusted anyone else in your life.

Noah, wasn't as tired as you were, and he contemplated how these days were going to go over as he waited for your breath to even out. It was a ritual of sorts whenever you two slept together. He always waited for you to fall asleep first. And, sometimes, when you had difficulty sleeping, he sang some soft tunes, or rubbed your scalp the way he knew you liked, and that always did the trick.

Next time you woke up, was with Noah's shrill alarm ringing on the bedside table. He really did set it really loud, because you were groaning and telling him to turn it off. He woke up with a yawn, disentangling his arm from under your torso to finally quiet the alarm.

Yawning and stretching your limbs all over the bed, you heard Noah chuckle beside you.

"You're like a damn cat, stretching like that", he pointed out, looking at you with a smile on his face.

He always thought you were the most adorable in the morning. Your hair was a little messed up, and your eyes were all tired and fighting sleep. A part of him wished he could just pull you back to rest beside him and resume sleep. But, the trip from hell awaited the two of you.

Getting up from the bed, he announced he was going to brush his teeth and take a shower, meanwhile, you busied yourself gathering all of the suicases and backpacks downstairs.

As soon as Noah left the bathroom, you went in there and did your morning routine as well as you could with your stuff all packed away. Luckily, you kept a few things over at his place for convenience.

Changing into something comfortable for the airport, you made your way downstairs and found Noah dressed in usual sweatpants and hoodie combo.

"Did you grab your sleep mask? I won't lend you mine this time", you told him. Last time, you had to endure a whole flight without your sleep mask, because Noah had forgotten his, and you had no heart to tell him no when he asked to borrow yours.

"Yes, ma'am. I grabbed my sleep mask", he answered. "I already texted Jolly, and he's on his way to pick us up".

"Did you lock everything up?"

"Yep, already checked the entire house while you were showering"

Noah was used to this. You had a ritual everytime you were travelling, and he learned that getting ahead of you was the best thing to do. That way, you wouldn't get stressed with things he didn't do, or forgot.

Right on cue, you heard a horn souding outside, Noah opened the door and was greeted with Jolly waving from inside the car.

"Ok, let's go", you clapped your hands in a "chop chop" motion.

On the way to the airport, Noah and Jolly chatted on the front seat, while you went over the flight details on your phone, making sure everything was in order for check-in. Noah hated airports, so he left you in charge of everything he found boring.

The drive was short, and soon, you were bidding Jolly goodbye at the drop off zone, and you didn't miss the little pat on the back and the "good luck" he wished Noah before getting back in his car and driving away.

Checking-in, you and Noah found a place to sit while he grabbed some breakfast for the two of you. While you sat there, eating and waiting, you were reminded of a very important detail that you forgot to discuss with him.

"Oh, my God! I totally forgot to talk to you about something", you exclaimed, swatting him in the chest to get his attention.

"This is the second time you forgot to tell me something about this wedding trip", he said.

"When they ask us how we got together, what are we gonna tell them?", you ask him. You've been going over all the lies you'd need to tell during this trip, and you realized that you and Noah didn't have a game plan at all.

"That one day, you professed your undying love for me and then we started to date?", he said, as if the answer was obvious, but you could tell he was sprinkling a little bit of sarcasm in there.

"I'm serious, Noah", you huffed, looking at him. "We have to be beliveable, otherwise, they'll catch on, and ruin the whole thing"

"We can just tell them that we realized we wanted to have something more than just a friendship", he suggested, and the idea wasn't so bad. Jade always said you'd end up together from how much time you spend with each other.

"Out of nowhere?"

"No, we've been hiding our feelings, thinking that the other didn't feel the same way, until, one day, I told you I liked you and you told me you liked me too", you rubbed your chin, thinking over his plan. "It's not overcomplicated and if we stick to the same story, we'll be fine", he reassued you. "Besides, Jade is so self-absorbed she'll probably not even ask anything about us at all"

"That's very likely", you agreed with his reasoning. After all, it was Jade's wedding, so the light is gonna be on her, and not on you and Noah.

"What about PDA?", you broached another subject that you've been avoiding.

"If you wanna kiss me, you can just ask, you know?", he teased you, nudging you with his shoulder.

"It's not what I meant, and you know it", you told him, but you weren't able to hide the little blush covering your cheeks, and he noticed too, by the way he was grinning.

"I can hold your hand. I mean, I kind of already do. But let's just go with the flow. You don't have to worry too much about this, it's just a couple of days, after all", he said, and he was right. You and Noah meshed well and were usually in the same wavelength, so there was no reason to think things were going to go south.

You just hoped you had time to relax and enjoy the beach, the drinks and the foods, which, if you knew Jade as well as you did, were going to be impeccable.

Tag list: @concreteangel92 @foliosgirl @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @stardustsirenmelody @miwomens @concretejunglefm @fadingangelwisp @prettygirlrock126 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @babygirlchuuya @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @lacy1986 @romanreigns-supreme @xmads-omensx @missduffsblog @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc @badomensgoodomens @floatingkiwi @collective-heartbreak @dontwantthemoney @dream-machine-love @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @amelia-acero @kenjipepsi1 @montgomery-929496 @daddy-dierkes-girlie @stardustsirenmelody @cheyyyyr @triedbimsoblu333 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @noyaisasimp @youlookforultraviolet @w0manof-flesh44 @chaoticwineaunt @geminigirlfromfinland @turn-your-life-into-folklore @butterflyeffect07 @zozaline @deardelirium @ferduttini @jilliemiw86 @alylanaeblack @lilcrazy011

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[bonny-kookoo]

Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

-----------------

Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

[paperstorm]

2024 fic round up!

I was tagged by so many lovely people I have lost track of them, so my whole tag list is under the cut! I wrote 270,000 words this year, including the entire Missing Moments season 3. Thank you to everyone who commented or kudosed or reblogged or read silently, the support for writers in this fandom is really so wonderful 💛

Missing Moments [a series of canon compliant tags for every episode of Lone Star, seasons 1-3 completed]

3x01 – Imperfect pieces pulling at the glue (9.1k) 3x02 – Up in smoke (9.4k) 3x03 – Wayfaring strangers (10.4k) 3x04 – Homeward bound (15.7k) 3x05 – Reconstruction (7.3k) 3x06 – All these sacred melodies (8.5k) 3x07 – Everest to mariana (8.2k) 3x08 – "You have one new message..." (12.4k) 3x09 – Cracks begin to show (5k) 3x10 – Push and pull (5.2k) 3x11 – Where the rain won't hurt (9.7k) 3x12 – Losing streak (4k) 3x13 – Heard the risk is drowning (15.3k) 3x14 – Live in the layers (5.6k) 3x15 – Switch (5.5k) 3x16 – Everything and every dream (5.6k) 3x17 – Move into the new (7.5k) 3x18 – Forever is the sweetest con (10.1k)

Hold me too close (1.8k)

Carlos’s lips curve into a small responding smile and he shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

He tilts his chin forward, asking for a kiss, that TK gives him readily because he thinks it would hurt like having a limb ripped off if he didn’t. Carlos’s lips are smooth and damp against his, wet with the salt from his tears.

“Wanna go for a walk?” TK asks when they part, and Carlos quickly nods.

A small extension of the scene after Tommy sings at their wedding.

In Loving Memory for @carlos-in-glasses (1.3k)

The word son catches his eye, and Carlos frowns and tucks his head to look closer. His legacy will continue to live on through his son’s own dedication to public service, is written at the bottom of the thin obituary.Carlos feels his stomach roll and his mouth slacken. Heat blooms in his cheeks and the tips of his fingers tingle. Next to him there’s a tiny, nearly imperceptible gasp – as TK finds the same words and his grip tightens further on Carlos’s arm.

Silver Lining's Gold and Shining (25.3k)

A story of nine pivotal moments in Carlos's life, and nine times his best friend was there beside him.

Butterflies and Sky-High (8k)

TK leans in closer and rests his forehead against Carlos’s cheek, understanding that this is hard for him. Carlos is so heart-warmed by the gesture that it gives him the courage to say, “I’ve been reading about demisexuality. It’s this thing where …”

“I know what it means,” TK says softly, and thank God he does because Carlos isn’t sure he would have done justice to an explanation anyway. Not right now.

“I think … maybe I am. That. I didn’t think I was anything other than gay but then I was reading and some stuff started to make sense.”

Made From Stardust (8.2k)

Adoration swells in your chest as it always does when the warmth of his smile is draped over you like a blanket. You could not express in words, not even if you spoke 50 languages instead of just two, the magnitude of your love for this man. It’s too big, too necessary, too seeped into the cracks of every plane of your existence. You cannot be you without him, because the you who sits here on this couch with your fiancé in the home you share with him would never have taken shape without his guiding hands. A man named Carlos Reyes would have existed, but not this one. He would have been somebody else.

A collaboration with @reasonandfaithinharmony, check out her beautiful gif set 🖼

Fine Line (6.8k) for @heartstringsduet

Carlos ghosts a kiss along TK’s cheek, feeling the shudder of TK’s inhale as he murmurs, “You need me?”

“I …” TK swallows, his throat clicks and Carlos hears it.

Their knees bump and Carlos trails his fingers through TK’s hair and just waits. He doesn’t ask again, he just holds TK in a vertical embrace and strokes his hair and stays patient.

“There’s something that’s helped in the past,” TK says in a small voice. “Something you and I haven’t done before.”

brighter in the morning (40k so far) cowritten with @strandnreyes

Sometimes nights together are hard to come by, but TK and Carlos find ways to connect as husbands in the morning.

A series of 12 mornings together for each of the 12 episodes in season 5 (plot permitting …)

Somewhere in a Song (23.7k so far)

Fresh out of rehab for drug and alcohol addiction, lead singer TK and his band Stranded are pushed into a tour he's not sure he's ready for. To combat the bad press from his very public hitting of rock bottom, his label suggests they take up-and-coming country singer Carlos along with them. Between TK's still healing wounds and closeted Carlos's fears that his parents don't support his musical career, a rocky start might turn into finding exactly what they both need.

Tagging @theghostofashton @birdclowns @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @thisbuildinghasfeelings @herefortarlos @heartstringduet

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@reasonandfaithinharmony @thebumblecee @never-blooms @lemonlyman-dotcom

@sanjuwrites @orchidscript @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @honeybee-taskforce

@hereghostslive @butchreyes @just-inside-her @firstprince-history-huh @captain-gillian

@tellmegoodbye @anactualcaseofthetruth @ironheartwriter @eclectic-sassycoweyes @ditheringmind

@emsprovisions @irispurpurea @nisbanisba @corsage @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @ladytessa74 @denizoid @everlastingday

Want to be added or removed from the list? Lmk

[emsprovisions]

I'm actually so proud of what I've achieved as a writer this year! I was looking at my writing stats on ao3 the other day and I pretty much doubled my word count from any other previous year. I also started off the year in a completely different fandom from Lone Star, and only started writing fics for LS in June. So posting nine fics in six months actually seems crazy to me. I have some ambitious (for me) plans for 2025 that I am so excited about! But for now...

I'm the life you chose, and all this terrible danger 2x08 coda // T // 2.6K // Summary: TK has head trauma, but checking on Carlos is still his top priority Read if you're in the mood for soft Tarlos communication after Bad Call, and enjoy fluff and hurt/comfort

sometimes I'd rather be dead, at least then I'm with you 3x08 coda // T // 2.6K // Summary: He feels like a coward for being scared of seeing Carlos’s face when he tells him what will surely break his heart. But he won’t keep this from him. “Carlos?” He whispers. Carlos presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and the dip of his shoulder, and TK’s eyelids drop at the contact. “I have to tell you something.” Read if you're in the mood for a bit of hurt/comfort, and TK dealing with his grief while also opening up to Carlos

Hold onto me T // 6.4K // Summary: Carlos was still on the call when TK got shot, and he's been worried and wondering about their relationship status ever since. Read if you're in the mood for missing moments spanning 1x08-1x10

your back beneath the sun, wishing I could write my name on it E // 11K // Summary: During their vacation in Galveston, TK gets a sunburn and Carlos, being the amazing husband that he is, takes care of him and shows him they can still have fun during their trip. Read if you like fluffy, smutty beach vacations for married Tarlos

Guilty Pleasures E // 6.8K // Summary: Carlos Reyes has a guilty pleasure...he enjoys reading romance novels. Part of the thrill is getting to find the trashiest books he can find just so he can read the bad euphemisms out loud to his husband. But he’s currently reading this series in particular that is causing him issues in the bedroom….. Read if you enjoy silly Tarlos shenanigans, things going wrong in the bedroom, and spicy smut

hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine T // 4.8K // Summary: An exploration of how food has guided TK and Carlos's relationship through the years and how they care for each other through food Read if you enjoy seeing how Tarlos's relationship has evolved around food throughout the years. Technically inspired by 5x01

the brink of a wrinkle in time 5x05 Coda // E // 2.8K // Summary: A 5x05 Coda where TK and Carlos celebrate the morning of their anniversary and continue a much-needed conversation Read if you were not satisfied by the resolution in 5x05 and wanted more communication between the boys

I wish I had a river (It's coming on Christmas) G // 3.8K // Summary: When TK needs to be rushed to the hospital on Christmas Eve for appendicitis, he's worried he's ruined Christmas. Carlos is there to reassure him. Read if you like mild TK whump with Carlos taking care of him, as well as Reyes family fun, and Christmassy vibes

24 Days of Tarlos G // 19.4K // Summary: Enjoy 24 drabbles featuring TK, Carlos, and other members of their family or the 126 in various different holiday or wintry scenarios! There are many aus and also canon-compliant stories in this collection, please check them out, there's a bit of everything!

Tags under the cut!

Thank you so much for the tags @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @everlastingday @thisbuildinghasfeelings @henrygrass @alrightbuckaroo @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89 💕

No pressure tag for art, gifs, fics, photography, other achievements etc! @ironheartwriter @sapphic--kiwi @eclectic-sassycoweyes @carlossreaders @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @decafdino @lutavero @guardian-angle22 @butchreyes @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lightningboltreader @paperstorm @welcometololaland @herefortarlos @firstprince-history-huh @tellmegoodbye and an open tag ofc

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 5

Rating: explicit (smut, language)

Summary: So... it's after you and Din talk...

tags: Angst, slight dub-con (I never know bc I would always fuck Din?), being mad as fuck at Din, how could he?, Din/Mando being a dumb stupid idiot, reader also being a dumb stupid idiot. Idiots in LOVE, mutual pining, then normal smut things (without spoilers to the chapter, sorry) SPOILERS TO The Book of Boba Fett and The Mandalorian.

a/n: I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you read this on ao3, no you fucking didn't. It's still unbeta'd, but proofread!! I did that this time!! I also am re-working the story slightly because I CAN.

a/n pt2: I don't know shit about Star Wars/ The Mandalorian. I did however spend an un-Makerly amount of time learning for all of us. If you're not well versed in the lore or the history of Star Wars/ The Mandalorian-- that's okay! This is Star Wars/ Mando for Beginners. (Also stating this as a warning for anyone well versed in the universe and the lore-- shhhhhhhhhhhhhh. DON'T COME FOR ME)

<- Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

The Jedi Code was taught to you. Engraved in your mind.

Harmony, serenity, peace and knowledge. The force. The lightside.

All the bad things; chaos, emotion, passion, ignorance, death.

The darkside. You learned to not fear the darkside, but instead to embrace the force.

Even though you didn’t have the maker forsaken force inside of you! Not even a litte bit! None of 'the force' had found its way into you!

Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano trained you as if you did!

Why!?

They spent so much time building you from the ground up! They made sure you had muscles and could run for long distances. The pair trained you how to fight with your hands!

Your hands know how to use a lightsaber! That's not an easy feat, and it takes a long time to learn that skill.

Oh, how long? A really long time!

Two years!

Two long years without any sign of that man in the tin can outfit! He's never called, he's never come to visit!

Two. Fucking. Years.

Sometimes you hated Din for leaving you here but you very quickly remember that you asked for this. 

Wanted this more than anything.

Foolish!

You wanted so badly to make sure the child was cared for; the child was older than you are!

Much, much older! Not even a baby at all, but a toddler where he comes from. A very special toddler. A force sensitive toddler.

Coming here was a mistake! The only thing you do here is clean up the messes Grogu- that's the child's Maker forsaken name. He has a name!

Grogu makes messes, so you clean them, and get hit with sticks as some sick and twisted form of 'training'! It feels like a joke when they told you to 'block your face and important organs' and then started to pummel you with the hardest, most fast moving sticks you've ever seen!

Not having any amount of the force inside of you really makes training with Jedi's incredibly difficult! Grogu seemed to be having a blast training with Skywalker.

They trained differently, so unfortunately the two of you didn't see each other much, and when you did, your time with him was cut short.

The two of you grew up here a little, together while separated.

Luke and Ahsoka claimed that you babied him and it would impeed his training, so they kept you apart as much as they seemed humane. You became so very depressed without the child and Din.

All alone even though you were surrounded by so many people.

The nights that you got to spend with Grogu were usually spent laying under the stars outside the Jedi temple, speaking fondly of Din.

Mostly for the child's sake, because you only wonder if he had completely forgotten about you.

The answer to that question came when Luke came to Grogu with a gift. 

“A gift?” You say with a curled lip.

Have you not just spent all of your time here; learning the way of the Jedi? That was an attachment and you– in your two years becoming a mock Jedi– were weary. The darkside. The emotion. The attachments.

This was scary.

Luke held the gift in his hands while he spoke. You're subtlety looking for your gift but... you don't see one. Only one parcel.

Oh.

“This gift would be the end of both of your Jedi training, should he keep it. Attachments may not be had, by anyone.” Luke looks between the both of you as you stand before him.

Why is he looking at you!? You might stay at this temple and learn all the ways of the Jedi and become the most powerful non-force sensitive Jedi the galaxy has ever seen!

“You both have come so far, you have so much potential. Both of you.” Luke’s eyes fall on you. “I’ve been surprised before, but this was a pleasant one. Watching you both learn so much. I hope he both makes the choice that’s best for you.” Luke looks to Grogu and hands him the package wrapped in brown paper.

“Why couldn’t I stay if he wanted to leave?” You ask Luke. 

“You come with the child. You leave with the child.” Luke explains simply. 

Maker-- alright. You can’t argue with that. You don't have much to offer besides cleaning up the kid's messes. They're probably tired of watching you perfect the lightsaber.

You're actually pretty good.

Grogu glances up at you just as you look down at him. You kneel on one knee so you can be closer to him, and watch as his six little clawed fingers struggle with the twine wrapped around it, but he uses the Force.

“Cheater.” You whisper to him.

The gift is beskar. A piece of... Mandlaorian armor for Grogu. 

“ Mando said he can’t put it on until he sees you–” 

“M-Mando’s here?” You interrupt accidentally. Your heart begins to pound in your chest at the thought that you might actually be able to see him right now.

Luke gives you a knowing look, as if you should know better, and shakes his head from side to side.

“Ahsoka sent him away. It would interfere with your training. If you wish to stay here and train, continue to learn the Jedi way. You both have come far, but it’s nowhere near close to done. Accepting this would end that training.”

It’s a warning.

The energy in the room is so intense. You can feel electricity in the air almost. Grogu is still standing beside you, looking down at his own piece of beskar.

What’s he going to do?

Luke reaches into his robe.

Everyone here has all these hidden pockets for things in their clothes. You have a couple hidden pockets now too . For things you may need to hide and pull out in moments just like this one day. You hope. It’s so cool when they do that.

Luke hands Grogu a lightsaber. Grogu’s own lightsaber. 

“You have a choice, young padawan.” His gravelly voice rakes across your brain. 

It's so quiet for so long. 

Grogu touches the lightsaber softly. Admiring it. He did the same thing with the armor. 

So long you waited. Understandably, this was a hard choice.

Grogo picks the armor.

Grogu and yourself are on a ship to a hangar where Din is waiting for a response. Your knees are complete mudslides right now. They are not supporting you and they have two years of Jedi training behind them. They’re strong. 

The nerves got to them, though--ate away all the tendons you ever had and dissolved the muscle down to nothing.

Din had been on your mind every single day for two years, and he didn't even ask if YOU wanted to come back. Only Grogu! You feel like a fool sitting next to the tiny green toddler.

Where are you supposed to go when Din tells you that he doesn't need your services anymore!?

The ramp of the ship drops down and there is a cloud of dust. And then there he is. Standing at the base of the ramp, like he had been waiting for you two. Or apparently just Grogu. Since he’s the one who got the gift.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No attachments. Perfect. You’re basically a Jedi. 

Grogu, who is so much faster, so, so much faster than you ever remember him being, flings himself at Din, and attaches himself around his neck.

You watch in amusement, wishing you could do the same thing but you’re partially a Jedi now, so you keep your composure and walk down the ramp slowly. Your mouth is so dry, you don't even attempt to swallow because you know it'll just end in you choking.

Din hugs the child tightly. Their embrace is so sweet. So kind. It makes you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

It makes your heart pang as well.

They hug for a long time before Grogu looks back at you, pulling away from Din’s neck. Grogu extends a curved hand to you. You suddenly feel a gentle pressure around your waist, and are being dragged forward, against your will, feet stumbling beneath you. 

You point your finger at Grogu. “Hey!” You shout. The pressure around your waist stops and you’re set back down on your feet carefully. “I told you to knock that off!"

This is Grogu’s new, fun game. Picking you up and putting you where he wants you. He hasn’t stopped doing it since he learned how.

Dropped you a couple times in the beginning. 

Din chuckles from under the helmet. “I see your relationship has changed quite a bit.” His flat rasp is the same as you remember it.  "He's the one carrying you around now,"

“It’s basically still the same. I have to yell at him for doing things he shouldn’t.” You scowl at Grogu, who hides himself behind Din's helmet.

“It’s nice to see you," Din's modulated voice is even and quiet. As if he doesn't want to say it at all.

That’s it. No hug. Nothing. Not even a handshake.

You could hit him. For several seconds you think about doing it.

Now your fist– with two years of Jedi training– and it might actually hurt him. It might hurt him a lot, and you’d feel good about it. So good.

"It's nice to see you, too."

The anger is pumping in your veins as he leads you through the hanger behind him. You look at all the ships, and look for the Crest but you don’t see it anywhere. Eventually Din stops in front of a ship much larger than the Crest. Bigger guns on it too. 

Din just stands there and looks at you with his stupid helmet shining in the bright light of the hangar. You don’t know what to do. He dropped you off on Ossus where the Jedi temple was, and didn't give you a hug. Not a pat on the shoulders. Literally nothing.

"Keep the kid out of trouble. You'll hear from me soon."

That's all Din had said before he and Grogu went to say their goodbyes!

"It's a new ship." Din points to the giant hunk of metal he’s standing in front of. His beskar looks exactly the same. Maybe a new scrape or two. A ding here or there but you’re not even looking. Not even paying attention to him. Trying not to. 

“Okay...” You resort to using your favorite word.

Why, Maker? Why can’t the man in the helmet speak? Is his helmet on mute? Always so fucking quiet. Until you don’t want him to be, then he won’t shut up.

Din leads you inside. Shows you the sleeping quarters. There are two beds. One for each of you.

There is a separate room for the child.

The dining room is nice and everything else is so nice. So much nicer than the Razor Crest. Even the cockpit you have no idea how to use. 

You look all around the hull like it's very interesting. This is so awkward. Not what you expected when you were on your way here. It's not like you expected a welcome back party. Maybe a hug. Something. 

"What happened to the Crest?" You ask, trying to avoid looking at him.

"It was destroyed."

The sleeping quarters are different from the Razor Crest. The beds are close together, but separated and welded to the floor so there is no way to move them closer together.

The mats that are nestled into the metal frames are thicker and much more plush than the one you had slept on for so long before you were banished away to the Jedi temple.

It’s fine. You’re fine. No emotion. No attachments. It’s all fine. 

The small bag that holds your very few belongings stays packed in case he doesn't plan on you staying very long. He could very well be headed right back to Cantonica to drop you back off at the Canto Bight Casino!

The three of you eat dinner in silence.

Din says not one word to you and you don't try and strike up the conversations like you used to. Things feel so different now, like the two of you are complete strangers all over again.

Grogu has changed in ways that are hard to describe. He's still a baby in your eyes even though he's older than you and Din.

The two of you play together on the floor while Din or maybe you should call him Mando again, since you barely know this man after two whole years, does something in the cockpit.

Grogu warbles and you watch all the new, fun things he can do with the Force that aren’t moving you unwillingly. It's the first real fun the two of you are able to have since being dropped off at the temple. You missed being able to play with him. You still snuggle him at the protests of Luke and Ahsoka-- how could you not when he climbs into your lap and cuddles into your arms.

Like he knew you couldn’t resist. 

Grogu can put himself to sleep now which is incredible, and that means you have time to do whatever you want.

So you’re in your bed with your nice new sheets. They’re soft. Like the ones on the Crest.

It’s dark here, too.

Maker, what in the stars?

The sun shields in this ship are no joke! There's no light at all. If you have to go to the bathroom, it’s just blind wishing that you don’t break you toes, or bump into a wall and potentially crack your skull. 

It feels like you were completely forgotten about in those two years and now, in the dark silence of your shared sleeping quarters you just want to cry...

An emotion!? After two years of strict Jedi code training---

There is a ten thousand degree warmth on your upper arm in the void, and it scares you half out of the bed. Your tops of your feet and knees are on the cool metal of the ships floor, and you're leaning against the side of the bed-frame like you are praying to Maker.

“I was going to see if you were sleeping," Din's rasping sounds-- happy to talk to you?

You're unsure. Nothing else about the way he's spoken to you, or treated you at all makes you think he wants to talk to you.

"That's not how you find out if someone's asleep!" You bark at him angrily.

"You're awake though.” A flat, unimpressed response to your outburst.

Maker, if you had your own helmet with night vision, you’d use all your new fun Jedi fighting tricks on him. You sure would, because who is he!? Who does he think he is!?

After two years he can come back and just throttle you awake in the dark like before? Nope. Not this time. 

“You’re lucky I can’t see you right now.” You say over the pounding heart in your chest. “So lucky-- What do you care if I'm awake in the night?! Let me sleep!” You’re so cold with him, mirroring him perfectly minus the emotion. “I’m tired.” You lie to him. 

In the usual Din fashion, he remains quiet. He still had his hand on your arm, and it's not like you really made an attempt to pull it away because it’s hot like you remember.. Burning you, he's so warm.

Din is also so fucking quiet! Maker! Is he okay?

“Tired?” Din’s voice rasps in the dark. "Then why aren't you sleeping?"

You realize the metal man has no grip on you whatsoever. He was just touching you very, very gently, and you easily could have pulled away at any moment.

So you you tug your arm away and you climb back into bed and face the opposite direction from him. "I was trying to sleep when you come over here-- shaking me in the darkness!"

“You…” Din trails off in the dark. “Still don't know the meaning of shake?” He questions you like a dumb idiot. 

"Get away from me!" You almost shout it. "Just leave me alone!" You humph, and pull the sheets over your shoulder.

"Are you... mad at me?"

“Are you kidding me!?” You whisper at him. “I don’t know how you could leave me out there for two years, and I get nothing!?” You sit up in your bed now and talk blindly in the dark. “Nothing. No visit. No calls. Nothing.” You cross your arms over your chest. "No gift!"

Din stays silent- which was predicted- so you carry on.

“But you get Grogu a gift, which was very sweet. Very cute armor, he is going to look very cute it in.” You think of the child dressed in the armor and it's kind of amusing and slightly distracting.

“Are you done?” Din’s stupid modulated voice rings out in the dark after a minute of you imagining an armored Grogu.

It's so dark and you still don't really know where he is, so with your accusing index finger pointing in the direction he could be in, you almost shout, “No! I’m not done!”

You are in fact, not done.

“They treated me like I had the Force in me. Do you know how hard that is when you don’t have the fucking force in you!?” You exclaim in exasperation, still pointing at him.

You start to speak again into the blinding darkness when a warm hand very gingerly moves your accusatory pointing finger eight inches to your right. 

“I figured I should at least be getting pointed at, if you’re going scold me,” Din rasps.

You die inside and wonder how dumb you look in the dark. “Why did you even bring me back? Hm? Why not just send me right back to the casino? Or is that where we’re going next? Gonna just drop me off? You even gonna land first or just let me duck and roll?” You huff, officially done with your rant. 

“Are you don-” Din starts, but you cut him off. 

“Yes!" You snap at him, and then you huff one more time for good measure. You're so angry with him.

So much for all your Jedi no emotion training. 

“I have a gift for you.” Din says flatly through the modulator. 

Oh.

“Well it’s so dark in here, so how would I know that?” You snip at him, not sure you’re fully ready to forgive him. You roll your eyes now. 

“Would you still like it? Or are you too upset with me?” Din’s modulated rasp asks you, sounding annoyed.

Why does he have a right to be annoyed? He could have given you that gift the minute you step foot of that return ship that brought you back to him.

Why wait until the darkness!? Why!?

“Yes, I would.” You hold your cupped hand out into the dark and feel something cold and hard fall into it. “It would be nice if I could –” 

The brightest beam of light you’ve ever encountered shines directly into your eyes. It’s blinding.

You jump again, out of bed because what the fuck is that!?

Is this an attack!?

What even is that light? Where is it coming from?

Thankfully, you wrapped your hand around the thing Din dropped into your hand so you didn't fling it into the abyss to never be seen again before you ever even got to look at it!

“Why are you on the floor?” Din asks, as you hold your free hand to your chest. You blink up at him, having to shield your eyes. 

“Are you the light right now!?” You question him squinting your eyes in its brightness. "Are you the one blinding me!?"

“Yes." Din dims the light tremendously somehow from within his helmet and now, it’s easier on the eyes. Like a candle flame. "Was it to bright?"

“It was too bright! I don’t think I’ll ever see again.” You snip softly, resting on the floor and putting your elbows on the bed. 

You inspect the small pink crystal in your hand. It takes you a couple seconds to realize what it is.

“Is this a kyber crystal?” You look up at Din who is knelt down on the other side of your bed.

He nods in the now pale light that's much easier on the eyes. “I got it on my travels. I thought that if you knew how to use a lightsaber, I’d get one for you. Put this crystal in it.” 

Maker. What is happening? 

“You thought of me?” You didn’t mean to say it. Part of you is still mad. 

“Everyday .” Din’s awe and amazement voice is back. “Di- Did you not think about me?” Just as quickly as that sweet familiar tone had shown up, it's gone just as fast. Din can' believe that you didn't think of him during your time apart.

“I did.” You say quietly. “I thought you had forgotten me. Without the visits or calls or gift.” You do feel silly now because this really is a sweet gift.

The sweetest gift. More sweet than the notebook and the credits and anything else he's ever given you. The small pink crystal in your hand means so much to you. The fact that he got it for you, was thinking about you while you were gone. The fact that the meaning behind the gift is so big. You own lightsaber if you wanted one. Din would get one for you. Said it himself. Your heart is racing in your chest.

“Never��. I’ve been waiting to see you. Been thinking of you. Looking at your doodles every night.” He turns the light off and takes the crystal from your still outstretched hand. 

“Hey! That’s mine.” You reach for it but he leaves you kneeling next to your bed like you are praying to Maker in the dark again.

“I’m going to give it back.” Din raps . “Do you want to get back in bed or are you content on the floor?” 

You’re blinking into the dark. Wondering how dumb you look now on the floor blinking into the void. You scramble up without assistance and crawl into bed, facing the same direction as before. Away from Din. 

Secretly, you’re hoping he’s sans beskar and crawls into bed beside you and lets you hold him like he did the nights before you left. With your arm around his waist, stealing his radiating heat from him while he sleeps. You’d mill kisses softly across his shoulders and you’d listen to him sigh and make sleep sounds in the darkness.

But that doesn’t happen. It’s so quiet. It’s so still for so long. You wonder if he’s crawled in his own bed and is fast asleep. What could this all mean? The gift? The cold welcome back after two years? Everything you did before you left? What did it mean and did you accidentally fall for a potential half man- half droid that’s never going to show you his face? 

The dark is still, so quiet and unmoving. You feel like you’re alone in the room. 

“C-can I touch? Or are you still too upset with me?” Din asks quietly, the rasp of his modulator is gone. His sweet deep voice is right in your ear. It doesn’t startle you because you’ve been waiting to hear him speak for so long. 

“No.” You snap. “You couldn’t come touch me for two years! I would have let you then, any time you came to visit, I would have but you-”

His lips on yours stop you. You almost try and push him off, but Maker. I

t feels so good. His warm, soft lips on yours after all this time. You both open your mouths slightly, and as tentatively as Din touched you for the first time two years ago, his tongue slips past your lips and into your mouth just as slowly.

It’s gone as soon as it appeared. 

“I tried.” He whispers against your open mouth. “I got turned away every time. So many times I tried to see you.” He’s speaking fast, like he’s trying to explain himself to you before you beat him off of you with something hard you’ve found in the dark. “ So many times, little one." 

The words melt over your tongue as he speaks them, almost as if they were your words.

Ahsoka and Luke never told you he came to visit. Not one time. 

“I tried. I never forgot about you. Too perfect. Too beautiful to forget..." ” His bare hands cup your face as you speak. “Never forget you. Everyday I look at your doodles. I look at you, and miss you."

You're breathing in the words he's speaking into your parted lip. He kisses you again softly. You feel the bed shift next to you and he’s crawling beside you.

“Do you dislike me again?”

Maker, Din somehow got warmer. He’s running a fever all the time and his body feels like the embers in the fire pit at the end of the night. 

“Again?” You whisper as he pulls your face down to the pillows with his. 

“You didn’t care for me much before the doodles.” Din kisses your lips again, gently as his hand slips from your cheek. “I didn’t think you’d let me.” You can feel his warm breath on your chin as he speaks. 

“Let you what?” 

“Touch. Watch. The first time.” His real unmodulated voice whispers to you. “I've missed touching. Watching."

A warmth hovers over your middle, you reach for it. Tt’s Din’s hand, hovering above your stomach, under the blankets, but over your clothes. 

“Touch me.” It almost doesn’t come out of your mouth because it’s so dry. But you croak it out and swallow hard as the word leaves your lips because you hope he does. You hope this isn't like the first night all over again where he makes you do it alone.

Din obliges and lets his hand drop, you feel the heat spreading out along your nightgown starting from where his hand rests on your lower stomach. It makes you inhale sharply. It’s such a familiar touch and you missed it so much. 

Din sighs and drags his hands gently and slowly up your stomach, the fabric bunching at his wrist as he does it.

He's lifting your nightgown. 

“Din,” You whisper as his palm cups one of your fleshy tits over the nightgown.

His rough, calloused hands were so gently, touching you so sweetly until your hand rests on his, you make him squeeze you. You make him because you need to know this is real and these soft gentle touches feel like a dream.

Din grips you now. He can feel your desperation in your hand on his. Squeezing and pulling and tugging at your flesh. 

“Fuck.” He moans softly into your shoulder where his head was resting. The fiery goodness from his forehead felt like it was melting you. “Perfect. Beautiful.” He says the word like he doesn’t want to. Like he’s been forcing them back but they’re breaking free from his vocal chords.

You can almost feel his heartbeat. Or maybe it’s yours.

You don’t know. 

It’s just obvious that this is what you want and you need him. Badly. However he’s willing to give himself to you or however he wants to take you, you don’t care. You’ve been waiting and thinking about this for two years. Your body reacts to his touch like you were built for him. Your pussy is leaking and throbbing already and he’s only touched you once. 

There's a new warmth, a wetness to these sensations now. Din’s wrapped his mouth around your clothed nipple and is sucking. Biting gently over the nightgown you have on. It sends shivers down your spine.

Words come flowing out of your mouth before you can even stop them. “I've waited so long for this.” You whimper quietly.

Your hips are rolling against the bed below you because everything just feel so good, everything is just so overwhelmingly pleasurable. Din’s hands and mouth on you, the heat he's passing along through his touch. 

“Touch. I wanna hear you moan.” He murmurs against your breast. He’s still biting and sucking it through the fabric like he’s too impatient to take off the nightgown. He just can’t wait any longer. 

“I need you to touch me.” You whine quietly. “Please.” You’re begging him. “Please, Din, I need to fee-” But he doesn’t make you beg long, his free hand slides between your legs and he sighs loudly against you. 

“”Fuck. Fuck. You're s-so wet. So fucking perfect.” Din bites your nipple a little harder now, but then he pulls way. “Let me lick. P-Please. I just wanted to watch but now I need to taste you.” He’s moving down between your legs as he talks to you. Then he stops.

“Okay. Okay. Please. Do it, please.” You’re already spreading your legs but he’s getting off the bed again. “Nononononono.” You whine, reaching blindly for him in the dark. You’re on the verge of tears. “Please don’t leave me again.” 

It’s so quiet. It’s like time stopped. 

“Din?” You whisper. “Did you leave?” 

“Where would I go?” He answers but he’s further away from you now. "It's my ship."

“Well you’re obviously not here– where you were!” You exclaim quietly. You hear him chuckle in the dark. 

“Come to my bed. I want to do something. New.” 

Oh Maker what could that mean? A new stun gun? Some weird thing he found in his travels?

Does he want to make you the lightsaber and put the focus crystal inside you? That’s where you draw the line.

“What does that mean?” You ask nervously, clutching the sheets to your chest as you stare into the void. “New?” 

“Come here. You said I could lick, yes? Let me.” Din’s voice in the dark makes you drop the blankets your clutching and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. “Come, little one. Let me lick you. Let me taste you.” His voice guides you to him and you start to crawl into his bed but he stops you. “Leg.” He says into the dark.

“Leg?” You ask, confused. Din reaches for you in the dark and taps your upper thigh. 

“Leg.” He says like he’s teaching you body parts. “Swing it up here over my head.” 

“What!?” You exclaim. “You want me to do what?!” 

“I want you to sit on my face.” Din’s smiling in the dark and you can hear it in his voice. 

“And you’re going to taste me like that?” You’re exasperated. You’ve never even heard of this. What does that mean, sit on his face. “I’m going to smother you!” 

“Then I’ll die a happy man. Get up here.” Now he’s impatient. Din’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

You swing one leg over his head and straddle him, pressing both hands to the wall in front of you. The ship's metal is so cold on your clammy hands. You can feel him breathing against your inner thighs as you sit on your knees above him.

“ This is perfect.” Din whispers. You can only whimper quietly because you’re so nervous, you feel so exposed up here. “You want me to lick…” He leans up and gives the very top of your slit a quick teasing lick. “Here? Yes?” 

Your knees buckle because Din’s tongue is just as soft and just as warm as you remember and you do want him to lick there. You can’t find words for how badly you want him. All you can do is let out a breathy sound of consent. 

“Beautiful.” Din wraps his hands under your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth, his tongue is ready. Eager. Waiting for you to be on him, for him to be inside your folds. “Just as I remember.” He whispers into your pussy, tasting that flavor he memorized before you left and thought of it often. “I touched myself, thinking of you. To your doodles. To your flavor.” Din takes the flat of his tongue and licks you from your opening all the way to your clit, slowly, he presses up against you so you feel him. 

He wants you to know he missed you. 

“ Maker, yes. ” It’s moaned softly as Din presses the flat of his tongue against your slit and lets you ride his mouth. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. Why were you so scared? Being on top of him, this way, you were in control up here. “ Oh Din, yes.” You’re not holding back tonight. 

You’ve been waiting to do this. Dreaming about it at night and waking up in the morning having to give yourself some sort of pleasure. You slide one hand down into his thick, coarse hair, just enjoying the feeling of it between your fingers again. You hear Din moan from between your legs and his tongue moves against you faster. 

Your fingers tighten in Din’s hair as he holds you around the legs, you’re pinned down onto him. His tongue is lapping and exploring your folds. Licking at all the spots he remembers make you squirm. He memorized every inch of you before he left and he’s been thinking about you, keeping it fresh in his head for this moment so he can make you whimper and quiver like he used to.

Din is panting underneath you, he’s working for what you’re about to give him. His tongue was drifting between those big lazy circles that had you whimpering and begging him for more and tight fast spinning around your clit. That’s when his hands found your hips and started to move you on his face, his tongue flat, stroking your clit with each movement of your hips. 

“Please don’t stop.” Pushing yourself off the wall you’ve been leaning against, you hover over him now, rocking your hips on your own. You found a rhythm with Din’s help. He holds your hips tighter now–not messing with the rocking of your hips–feeling you roll yourself along his mouth. As he does that he pulls you down harder on his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair and you grip it tightly now in both fists and grind down against his flat, strong muscle. “ Oh fuck yes . Din, I’m so close.” You’re whimpering for him.

Din moans loudly from underneath you, his hands now moving to your ass. He gropes and spreads your cheeks. 

“M-moan again.” You stutter, your hips grinding harder and faster. The vibrations from Din’s moans will be enough. 

Din obliges happily and moans loudly again, over and over as your head falls back, hips never stopping their rocking motion on his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck–ing yes. Din, oh Maker!” You cry out. You don’t care if The Razor Crest is gone, you have those memories inside your head forever. You don’t have to hold back nearly as much here. You can let him know how fucking good he makes you feel. Your body is quivering as you grind against him. You can feel the prickles of his facial hair on your inner thighs and lips as you ride him.

Being on Din’s face like this was heaven. You can hear him noisily licking and sucking at the new wave of juices that are dripping from your entrance. As the warm ball of fiery goodness spreads through you, you start to shudder and tremble on top of him, his tongue never stops moving against your clit and then dipping inside of your hole to taste you as you leak out. Din laps at you until there’s nothing left. Sucking your lips into his mouth at the end to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He leaves you trembling above him for so long he has to tap your thigh again for you to swing It over his head. 

"Sorry." You pant. "That was good. I'd do that again." You go to stand off his bed and you feel him wrap his arms around your waist. 

"Don't go. Share the bed." He whispers up to you. "I waited for so long." 

"I waited too!" You exclaim as all of your anger and fear of being forgotten about returns. "I waited for just as long as you did! You sure didn't act like you missed me or waited for me. Not until the lights went off at least." You're storming to your own bed now. You move quickly, not wanting him to hear or see the tears in your eyes.

You've been keeping this in for a long time. Letting it bottle up until you can't keep it in anymore. And the fact that he confessed all those nice things just to be able to touch you.

Din doesn't say anything in the dark, letting you try and find you way back in the void. It makes you sadder that he isn't trying to comfort you. The tears come, quietly, thank Maker, as you get into your own bed and wrap yourself in the covers. It isn't until you let out a little weeping sound that you hear him shuffle and then your bed shifts under his weight. Din's pressing himself into you gently, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

"If you had reached for me, you could have felt my heart from under my beskar." He whispers in your ear. "I did miss you. I did wait for you." A small kiss along your jaw, "You didn't seem like you were happy to see me today." He sounds disappointed. "I thought you had forgotten about me. Maybe someone with a face and who didn't leave made you forget about me." Another small kiss in the same place. "I sat in the dark for so long, wondering if you were thinking of me. I had to come find out. I did't mean to scare you. Don't cry, little one. Please?" He's kissing your face gently. 

"I don't think anyone could ever make me forget about you." You whisper into the void.

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux

I'm still so uncomfortable tagging people in my stories, so like I said, please tell me to fuck off if you want me to stop. My feelings won't be hurt (yes they will), and it's completely fine (I'm a big girl and can handle it).

[resident-idiot-simp]

I did one interpretation of Sabertooth meeting Laura, but what if I did another one? What is it was on sight? What if Laura knew full well the history and horror?

From where and when? Don't ask.

Laura sees Sabertooth just in the void and can't help but feel deep burning rage. This thing had hurt her father and so many others.

She had to stop herself from outright growling because it would give her away. She could kill him she knew she could. Take off his head he wouldn't survive that.

She just had to be silent and wait thankfully she was down wind. He came closer looking around trying to scavage for Cassandra. He was one of her favorites probably because they thought so similarly. Both wanted to cause harm to others just because they could.

He was almost under her now from where she hid in a turned over building. It was now or never...

She roared as she unsheathed her claws and lunged. He wasn't expecting it and cried out as her claws sunk into him and tore. He bucked trying to throw her off but it wouldn't work.

She wouldn't get thrown off so easily. She was bigger and stronger now she was harder to stop. She sliced his neck and something fell to the dusty floor but she ignored it. Just as she got her claws nice and sunk it she was grabbed and tossed off. Her claws tore flesh and bone as she was separated from her target.

Sabertooth was blooding and panting but still standing. She growled at him and he roared back. Fuck.

She lunged again but he met her in the middle and they both went to the floor as they wrestled for the upper hand. He was healing and she knew she couldn't physically overpower him.

She kicked a foot into him letting the claw puncture what it could. It surprised him enough she escaped his grasp. She stood quickly preparing to strike again but he just laughed.

"Never thought he'd have a kid." Sabertooth drawled and she just sneered and fained a lung before launching herself at his feet. He almost doged it but her claws caught him in the calfs. He stumbled back quickly eyes going wide as she prepared to lunge again.

He glanced around quickly a darted to the closest cover and she followed after. As she caught up an jumped around the corner he had ran behind he was gone.

"WHERE ARE YOU YOU FUCKING PERVERTED COWARD?!" She roared to no answer. She sniffed at the air but it was like he vanished into thin air.

She carefully walked back over to the thing she had cut off of him. She grabbed it and glanced quickly at it and froze.

Logan's dog tag

She growled again and cursed, "YOU NEVER DESERVED THIS YOU SICK FUCK!" She shouted into the wasteland around her as she took off the cut part and fastened it around her neck.

She would kill him and she would enjoy it.

[fumblingmusings]

Don't Hold Out on Hope

Gift for @hydraespacial for the USUKUS Lounge Christmas Secret Santa (apologies for tagging you on so many platforms 🤯)

Queen Arthur dreams of an Alfred, King of Diamonds, Clubs and Hearts, each in turn after years of perceived neglect from the King of Spades

Also readable over on Ao3 if preferred!

******

“How long will you be gone for?”

Arthur slowly collected the black pieces from the checkerboard, creating four neat columns of discs. Alfred, sitting opposite, left his own white pieces alone, the silence stretching long enough until Arthur lost patience, and began to repeat the small tower construction with the other colour.

“A while,” Alfred finally commented, watching Arthur place the final disc into place. “I don’t know how long. This was just to say goodbye.”

It struck the Queen how cold this statement was. If it had not been for Arthur already sitting with the board ready to play against himself when Alfred entered the room, they would not have played these three matches (Alfred winning every time) and it seemed likely to Arthur that the King would simply have made his declaration in the doorway of the Queen’s chamber, then leave without so much as declaration of affection. That it was an act of kindness in of itself to even say goodbye in person .

Gods, there was a fanciful thought.

“Well… then. I will do my best at Court, until you return.”

Alfred smiled, genuinely smiled, though not at Arthur exactly, never at Arthur. The ever present ache in Arthur’s chest flared. “‘Course you will! You and Yao both.”

Hand trembling, Arthur took a risk, reaching for Alfred’s own gloved hand on the table.

“Please be safe,” he said.

Alfred pulled his hand away before their fingers could touch. His smile cracked, as if disappointed at the action. At himself pulling away, or Arthur daring to reach, the Queen could not tell.

“Always,” Alfred declared. His smile froze for a moment, and Arthur watched him swallow a lump in his throat. He seemed to attempt to say something else but could not manage it. Arthur did not push him, as he was too frightened to upset the King. Instead, Arthur watched as the man stood, flicked his coat with silly panache, and then trotted out the room. He pushed the regret of not asking after Alfred down. There would be another chance, perhaps, when the King returned.

The sound and sight of the closing door seemed to darken the very room the Queen sat in, or perhaps that was Arthur’s magic making itself known in odd ways.

*****

Arthur’s magic making itself known in odd ways was not that uncommon of a feature. For the most part he had control over such things, but it could be easily argued that the Queen was not as composed as he wished to appear.

It was one of the reasons Alfred had refused to merge the King and Queen’s chambers - there was a fairly substantial chance that the Queen would end up throwing a lightning bolt or similar down upon them in bed during a nightmare. They knew this, as it had happened once before as Arthur slept alone. It being his own magic, the Queen himself was unharmed. The bed and furnishings on the other hand…

Still, Arthur knew it only added to the gossip. Poor unloved Queen. And now the King had left for who knows how long to do who knows what.

It seemed childish to admit that he was lonely, but it was the truth. Arthur was lonely.

A long term companion to the then Crown Prince in childhood, Arthur had known as a member of the prominent sorcerer family of the Kirklands, he was guaranteed a place at court. The news that he was to be more than just another courtier, but the Queen himself, had elated Arthur. The chance to be closer to the new King, whom he had long loved, to matter and to have a grand wedding and everything else small children dreamed of at night was a pure joy had promptly withered and died upon seeing Alfred’s paling and horrified expression.

Whatever friendship the two had maintained prior to the wedding did not outlast the consummation three years ago.

On one of these lonely nights, Arthur stayed up until quite late, staring at the canopy of his bed until he was sure he was seeing figures in the painted blue wood and finally a heavy sleep took him.

He was awoken by such a crash that it sent him flying in a panic off the bed, collapsing in a heap of sheets and cushions next to the wooden frame.

“What the -”

“Arthur!”

“Alfred?” the Queen exclaimed, emerging from the cocoon of fabric. The sound of a door slamming shut jolted the man further awake.

“Why did you sleep in here? I woke up this morning and you never came to bed?”

Arthur frowned, peering up over the mattress, confused and ready to ask what on this green earth was Alfred talking about, only for the colour of the sheets to catch Arthur off guard.

Gold. The gold of Diamonds.

Arthur’s gaze flitted around the room - marble tile floors (his room had quartz), an open balcony guarded by strong pillars and fluttering curtains (his room was too cold and too exposed to leave such a space open to all the elements), and gold . Gold everywhere. No baby blue flowers on the fireplace, no midnight blue sheets that glittered like the night sky. Just a warm white and golden glow filling the room.

Speaking of golden, Alfred had hopped onto the bed, and his yellow hair and blue eyes appeared over Arthur’s head. He was smiling down at Arthur.

“Huh?” Alfred prodded, ignorant of Arthur’s look of panicked disbelief. “Why’d you not join me last night?”

“Where am I?” Arthur asked, noting even Alfred himself was dressed in white and gold. When he looked down, Arthur saw that his pyjama bottoms were the same as he remembered, white satin.

“Your room. Why didn’t you come through to our room? Are you mad at me?”

“When did you return?” the Queen asked, convinced he had simply blanked out some journey or events. He didn’t remember drinking last night, but that was probably just a sign that Arthur had gotten rather drunk. There were no symptoms of a hangover however, which added to Arthur’s confusion.

“Return? Arthur, where would I go?”

Strong arms thread themselves around the Queen, and pulled him upwards off the floor and onto the comfort of the large mattress. Remaining limp, cautious at what was happening, Arthur allowed himself to be splayed out on the bed. It was the first time he had willingly been touched in… years.

“Think I’m dreaming…” he murmured, staring at this golden Alfred smiling bemusedly overhead.

“Oh? Why?”

Before Arthur could conjure a response, Alfred had leaned down and planted a very firm kiss to Arthur’s temple.

The shot of fire that flooded the Queen’s veins was so sharp and sudden that Arthur could not help the gasp that escaped his lips. A gasp of pure pain, the sensation of having a dagger pulled out of his stomach after hours of it being stuck in between his ribs. Breathing was no longer easy, instead it was agony. An agony that Arthur dare not exacerbate, even with Alfred settling down next to him. The warm beating heart thrummed steading behind Arthur’s back, and Alfred’s legs twisted and wrapped around Arthur’s own.

“Cold toes,” the King complained with a huff. Another kiss was pressed to the back of Arthur’s neck. The man stiffened like a corpse, breathing shallow. “Hey, what’s going on? You’re all jumpy. What’s wrong?”

Alfred was remarkably attentive today, though Arthur dryly, despite his horror and confusion.

“Can… you tell me I’m not dreaming?”

“You’re not dreaming. Gods, Arthur, what makes you think you are?”

“Then… tell me what’s real. And no pinching my skin.”

“Uh… You and I are here, in the castle, in the Capital City of Diamonds. I’m the King and you’re the Queen, and you only ever sleep in the Queen’s chambers if you’re mad at me.”

“King of what?”

“...Diamonds…?” came Alfred’s baffled reply. He sounded sure himself, but confused at Arthur’s inability to understand. “Did you go out drinking last night? Is that what happened? Sneaky Queen pretending to be one of the people and got absolutely wasted or whatever you call it?”

They were friendly words, comfortable in their familiarity and a gentle teasing tone which Arthur had never known from Alfred. His Alfred. Or, at least, he had once, until Yao had sat them down and explained the situation of their upcoming nuptials.

The King of Diamonds tugged Arthur’s legs apart, settling his own securely in place in the warmth of the embrace.

It was enough to set Arthur’s brain into a frazzle. He was dreaming then. Incredible truly - the man was so lonely his shrinking brain had magicked up a little world where apparently the answer to all of Arthur’s troubles was to simply be born in another country.

He distractedly mused for a second what had happened to Francis and Lilli, but then Alfred was kissing his neck, and the thought fell away.

“Look at me for a sec?”

Arthur turned slowly, reluctantly, on the bed. He kept his gaze determinedly on Alfred’s collarbone peeking out underneath that loose shirt. He could refuse his King some things.

“What’s wrong?”

Frustratingly, stupidly, Arthur’s eyes watered. He simply was not used to being asked after. Against his better judgement, his hand went up to touch and stroke that collarbone that was distracting him so. His better judgement had always faltered when it came to Alfred. It couldn’t be helped. To be able to touch him, even in a dream, was too tempting of an opportunity to miss.

He was as warm as expected, dry skin and trembling under such a gentle touch.

Green eyes finally met blue, and Arthur’s breathing stuttered.

“You’re so beautiful,” Arthur gasped.

Like a child receiving a compliment, Alfred turned bright red.

“Wooft, you’ve never said… Aw, no, well… You’re not so bad yourself!”

It was this clumsy complement that made Arthur’s tears spill over, and - against his better nation - years of grief poured out.

“I love you and I love you and I… You never even look at me.”

“That is not true”-

“It is because all I ever do is look at you!”

“You never tell me this - where is this coming from?”

Arthur barrelled on, arguing, “I know politics is awful and I know it isn’t exactly conducive to a romantic relationship but the least you could do is not make me feel like an outsider in our own home and maybe smile at me once in a while -”

*****

The very air throbbed so painfully that the Queen’s ears made him cry out and flinch away from Alfred. Bolting upright with his eyes screwed shut, Arthur groaned, only for his reopening of his eyes to be accompanied by - once again - being dragged around.

“Arthur, come on! Fight back already!”

Distantly the Queen noted all that was gold had turned to green. A beautiful deep green that seemed to glow from within.

Clubs?

The dream was trying to tell him something then. Making the Queen confront versions of what could have been. What he was missing out on, what he should be grateful for? He did not feel grateful at that moment. Just emotionally exhausted with a thumping head. He wanted to return to the warmth of the bed and Alfred’s kisses.

Instead, he was welcomed by hateful blue eyes coming into view, and a disdain that made Arthur gasp, going to back off the bed.

It seemed he was not moving quickly enough. With a violent shove, Alfred proceeded to throw Arthur off the bed. He collapsed in a heap, but quickly rose to his feet, trying to understand what was happening. He was given no chance, as Alfred was suddenly looming over him, and hands were curling into Arthur’s blond hair and around his right shoulder.

Disorientated and panicking, Arthur backed away towards the windows. Heavy velvet curtains framed a wonderful snowy view, mountains and glowing golden lights.

Arthur had no time to admire the view for the King, now clad in the heavy furs of Clubs, was pushing and pulling Arthur towards the glass. His grip in the Queen’s was akin to a child dragging their favourite toy around on the floor, and it made Arthur flush with panic. He could spark and burn Alfred’s very hands, but he didn’t want to hurt the man.

Even if there were bruises (and there were going to be bruises on his arms after this) Arthur could not bear the thought of hurting Alfred in retaliation.

“You never fight back and you used to” - Alfred’s hands tightened around Arthur’s forearms. The Queen floundered, unable to keep track of what had happened. What had been a golden, loving and gentle embrace on the bed had morphed into a violence that seemingly threatened to toss Arthur out the window.

Arthur wriggled, but Alfred held tight.

“Don’t roll over! Come on fight -”

It was an animalistic instinct that took over then. A fox caught in a trap, fully prepared to gnaw off its own leg to ensure its short term survival. Alfred would not take any action against him lying down, but what choice did Arthur have? He was being pressed against the glass panes of the window, a strain that would crack and slice Arthur’s skin. He didn’t want to hurt Alfred, but he also could not justify being tossed around like Alfred’s childhood broken toy. Neglect was one thing, physical harm was quite another.

Thus, Arthur twisted out of those strong hands, and with a great swing, punched the King of Clubs squarely in the nose.

“Don’t touch me like that,” he hissed. Ignoring the growing smile on Alfred’s face, Arthur shoved the King away. “You cannot treat me like…”

“Oh, now you’re being honest.”

“Honest? What are you on about?”

Arthur paused, looking around the room but keeping his guard up in case Alfred decided to body slam him again, but that seemed increasingly unlikely considering the blood that had begun to flow from Alfred’s nose.

Alfred groaned, stemming the flow with his hand, but the blood continued to drip over his hand and wrist.

“Damn, you hit like a bitch.”

“Fuck you!” slipped out instinctively. Arthur looked around the warm room, roaring fire and several candles giving the war such a comforting glow that was totally at odds with the violence both men had nearly enacted on each other.

The trembling of his own hands caught Arthur’s attention, and he looked down to see them shaking violently. How very unlike him to behave so childishly. He was above such insults and violence. Well, he had been ever since getting that crown on his head.

“What is going on?” the Queen asked, mostly to himself.

“Teaching you a lesson,” Alfred muttered, facing the painted ceiling. “Passivity doesn’t suit you, hon.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Arthur grumbled, circling around Alfred like a cautious prey animal. Where Arthur would go, he did not know.

He preferred the golden Diamond Alfred for certain however. He was warm and charming and not as snide and mocking as the man who was soon sighing and setting himself down on a cushioned chair by the fire.

“Rolling over and letting me do whatever I want… hoping like a beaten dog that obedience earns love… be serious, Arthur.”

An awful silence ensued as Arthur listened to this and grew increasingly angry as he began to understand what he was being told.

“It’s not my fault you’re a brute!”

“No but you’re” -

“Oh fuck off Alfred! Grow up! Don’t take your misery out on me!”

Alfred, still bloody nosed and burning blue eyes, looked at Arthur for an uncomfortably long silence. If he expected Arthur to be the first to flinch and look away, he was mistaken, as Arthur could only glare back, lip curled and ready to bite out another insult.

A grin stretched over Alfred’s lips. It was his genuine smile, the kind that made Arthur’s heart ache.

“You’re getting it.”

Dreaming though he may have been, Arthur had always maintained a mind for logic (or so he believed) so could only roll his eyes in frustration.

“Getting what?”

******

As if slapped, the air was stolen from the Queen’s lungs once again. The fire burned so bright he fell away from the heat and gasped for air. He fell to his feet by the window, desperate for the chance to catch his breath. Dream or his own magic lashing out, he had had enough.

“Arthur?”

“No!” the Queen screeched at the sound of Alfred’s voice, though he could not yet see him. The floor, as he had half expected it to, was a polished red marble, golden and purple veins running through the quartz. “No, no more Alfreds, thank you!”

Fumbling at the window, Arthur managed to locate the catch with his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t want to see what Hearts looked like, he didn’t want some twisted lesson on how it was somehow Arthur’s fault that Alfred didn’t love him and it was just Arthur that needed to be emotionally vulnerable and violent and why was it his fault why was it always his responsibility to fix Alfred’s messes -

Arthur got the catch of the metal frame to open, and - still very much believing he was dreaming - decided the quickest way to wake up was to fling himself out the window.

“Arthur no!”

Alfred’s strong arms were once again around Arthur’s torso. The Queen squawked and cried out in desperation, but Alfred really was stronger than him (a gift of being a King as much Arthur’s magic was a gift of being Queen). Already exhausted from his fight in Clubs, Arthur could only moan as Alfred carried him back to the bed. As soon as Alfred’s arms retreated, Arthur scrambled to the backboard, curling into a ball and ready to bite at Alfred’s fingers if he got close again.

“Just… leave me alone,” Arthur weakly begged.

Alfred, all in red and burgundy and always so beautiful, watched him carefully. The gauzy curtains blew with warm moist air. Like each other room in turn, Hearts was as beautiful as Clubs as beautiful as Diamonds.

Still, Arthur yearned for the soft and calming blues of Spades. Its temperate air, its clean rivers and gentle hills.

“I can’t leave you alone, Arthur. I need to apologise.”

Slowly, disbelieving his own ears, Arthur uncurled from his tight ball.

“You?”

Alfred smiled, bashful. “Don’t act too surprised.”

“Alfred I am going mad,” Arthur whimpered. “So whatever you’re going to say, get it over with.”

A left hand snuck into Arthur’s vision, the golden band around his ring finger glimmering in the early morning light.

“Don’t… don’t give up on me.”

With a cry he didn’t know he was holding on to, Arthur fell forward into that hand, pressing it down into the mattress, and wept.

“Promise Arthur?” Alfred murmured, curling on top of his crying spouse.

“You’re such a shit,” Arthur cried. “Making me do all the heavy lifting.”

“...Yeah. Sorry.”

Arthur turned to look at the canopy of the bed, then suddenly like glue Alfred was resting on his chest. Unable to help himself, Arthur thread his hands through the King’s golden hair. Indulging. He would always indulge Alfred, if he let him.

“Can I ask, what would you do, if you were me?”

“I’d probably throw my hands up and wash myself of you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not you though.”

“No.”

“Thank the gods.”

A broken laugh fell from Arthur’s lips.

“Small blessings.”

Alfred hummed, staring at the same spot as Arthur. The two men lay largely in silence, Arthur slowly recapturing his breath as his tears stopped. The pressure of Alfred’s head on his chest was a comforting pressure, but his stomach still churned at confusion. This dream simply felt too real. His cheeks were wet, the back of his neck still tingled from the press of Alfred’s lips, his arms ached from imprints which would perhaps bruise if given enough time.

But it was just a dream. Just a dream.

“Alfred…” The King shifted as Arthur rose to sitting on the plush bed. He looked at Arthur curiously. Arthur took in a breath and continued, “If you were me, if you loved someone who did not love you back”-

“Who said that I don’t?”

Arthur choked on his question. When he caught his stolen breath, he protested, “You don’t even let me touch you.”

Alfred only had to look at their conjoined hands to make his point.

“No! No, not you. Other you.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“I need to wake up.” Wiping at his nose, sniffing and pressing his free hand to his flushed cheeks, Arthur tried to shake himself awake. “You’re sweet and I accept whatever transgression you think you have done but I need this to stop now. No more Alfred’s in rainbow colours kissing me and slapping me and begging me for apologies… I need to wake up.

Alfred’s free hand captured Arthur’s, pulling it towards his cheek and trapping Arthu’s into cradling his strong jaw.

“I think… Arthur… you put yourself under too much pressure.”

It hurt to look Alfred in the eye, but Arthur was unable to look away. It was the expression on Alfred’s face that held Arthur’s attention so closely. It was nothing but empathetic, compassionate, and deeply concerned.

“I ain’t mad,” Arthur protested to that face, in a rougher tone and language than usual.

Alfred scoffed. “I think you’re over tired, more than mad.”

“Oh, maybe. Maybe so.”

“I think sleeping would do you good. You know, over jumping out the window.”

Arthur laughed again, letting go of each of Alfred’s hands. He laughed until he felt sick, reaching for the King’s face. Alfred let him touch the skin, watching as the tired Queen bit his lip. He seemed to be contemplating something, a conundrum he would never quite be able to answer.

“You gonna go lie down?” Alfred asked, not at all subtly. He was still watching Arthur warily. He may have been kinder than the previous King of Clubs, but that did not make him as unguarded as Diamonds. Hearts were something to be protected after all.

“Need to ask you something first,” Arthur replied, yet moved back towards the sheets nonetheless. He had enough of this jumping from place to place. He needed to go back to his own bed, in his own room.

To his own King.

“Shoot.”

Throwing the sheet up over his head, Arthur hid hi1mself from view, deeply embarrassed by what he was about to ask. Alfred’s hand was resting on his leg, a casual intimacy that sent a lump up into the man’s throat.

“Was it hard?”

“Huh? Can’t hear you under there.”

“Was it hard?” Arthur spoke louder, “To fall in love with me?”

It did not occur to Arthur that it should be impossible, but he could almost hear Alfred smile. With no response coming immediately save that smile, the Queen blushed.

Alfred eventually replied, softly, “Nah. You just needed to knock down some wall.”

It was all the confirmation Arthur needed. A smile joined his flushed skin to match the King’s.

“I…I can do that.”

The cover was pulled down, just enough for the Queen’s straw hair and green eyes to pop out from under the blood red fabric.

Alfred’s soft gaze met his. He seemed bashful, a little ashamed at the vulnerability

“…Don’t give up on me.”

“Promise.”

They two stared at each other, for a moment too long, before Alfred coughed and turned away, standing up away from the bed.

“Cool. Thanks.”

Arthur, equally embarrassed, returned to hiding under the covers.

“Welcome. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Arthur closed his eyes, and finally, for the first time in what felt like years, felt his stomach settle. The bed was soft, the room was warm, and even though this Alfred had not said the words, had not kissed him nor really said anything beyond telling Arthur to try… It gave the Queen hope.

******

When he woke in the morning, safe from the dream and the thumping headaches, the loneliness did not seem so awful. For once, it seemed, his magic had potentially helped him solve a problem, not just being excellent at causing explosions.

Hope was a powerful thing after all.

The lessons stuck with Arthur for all the weeks that the King of Spades was gone. Honesty, no more stiff upper lip, being the one to push and push…

It still occurred to Arthur that the entire onus should not be on him alone, but he was the one who was willing, and Alfred had once given Arthur the impression he wanted to speak more openly.

Perhaps, Arthur thought, watching from the top of the grand staircase as the King returned from wherever he had been. He watched him speak to Yao, then look up at Arthur. He did not smile, but Arthur did not expect him to. Steeling himself, Arthur trotted down the staircase. He held tightly to that feeling of hope as he moved closer and, to everyone’s surprise, threw his arms around Alfred’s broad shoulders and pulled the taller man down for an embrace.

He felt the expected stiffness, heard the gasp and confusion, but held on tightly. What surprised him, more than if Alfred had thrown him to the side in disgust, was a pair of hands holding on to his shoulder and waist.

“Welcome back.”

Alfred swallowed loudly, but squeezed Arthur’s slim frame nonetheless.

“I went… to talk to someone for a while,” he admitted.

“Oh.”

“Gave me a bit of a reality check.”

Arthur pulled back, but kept his hands around the King’s neck. He tried to look Alfred in the eye, but saw that the man was red from a blush, and kept his eyes very determinedly on Arthur’s shirt. Shy , Arthur realised with a startled laugh, he’s shy .

“I need to talk to you myself, I think,” Arthur murmured.

Finally, finally , the King of Spades looked at the Queen of Spades, and smiled.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Click, Click, Click

Prompt Day 29: Fairytale | Word Count: 734 | Rating: T | CW: Post-Apocalyptic | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Survival, Just the Two of Us, The World is Bleak, But We're Together

Set in my connected one-shot End of the World AU 'verse, but can be read standalone.

"If I click my heels three times, do you think we'll get to go home?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs a little too loud. He shouldn't. They're hunkered down, hidden out of sight, in an abandoned house.

It's been 813 days. 

At least Eddie thinks so. He's tried to keep track, but there were a few days where he was feverish and barely lucid. 

Eddie knows it's at least been two years. That much he's certain. But he can't ask Steve. Steve won't talk about it. 

Because Steve thinks there's a way to fix this, a way to revert everything back to the way it was, and Eddie knows that's not true. That's a fairytale. Especially after 813-ish days.

"You could at least try," Steve banters back. He's tired, they both are, but he's still got his sense of humor. At least most of the time.

Steve's filthy, not that Eddie isn't, but seeing Steve Harrington with greasy hair hanging in his eyes wasn't something Eddie ever predicted he'd see in his lifetime. Running water is a thing of the past, and they haven't exactly found a safe source of water to bathe with in a while. Everything they find has to go to drinking.

Running water. A luxury he took for granted, even in the worst parts of his childhood. On a long list of things he misses from the real world, running water is near the top. If they ever get back to their version of Kansas from this shitty version of Oz, Uncle Wayne instead of Auntie Em waiting, he's taking the longest, hottest shower in history.

But for now, they're still following this shitty yellow brick road, but it's more as if they are in the book version of Oz, not the story MGM polished to a sanitized shine. No lions, tigers or bears.

That'd be preferable, honestly, after dealing with demogorgons, demodogs and demobats, oh fucking my, indeed. 

Eddie's given up hope that they'll ever find anyone else out here ever again. But at the same time, they can't be the only survivors. That's too implausible. But it sure feels like that now. Steve keeps them moving. Searching. He hasn't given up hope.

And Eddie'd never give up on Steve having hope, so they'll forge ahead. As long as Steve doesn't start hacking off his limbs to become the tinman, well, then they're still ahead, no matter what this world is, or isn't.

"That stove looks like something out of Hansel and Gretel," Eddie comments, and Steve laughs again. There are dishes piled on top of it. So, Eddie thinks someone survived here, at least for a while.

"I'd eat some Hansel or Gretel about now," Steve says, flippantly, and Eddie grins. The world is bad, but it hasn't gotten that bad, which Eddie is grateful for, because he's the only other person around to end up in said stove.

"I'd settle for some of the witch," Eddie banters back, and Steve smiles. They're okay. They're still okay, Steve sitting next to him, clicking that stopwatch he always keeps in his pocket. 

Click, click, click.

The numbers ticked over an hour. And Steve kept trying.

He's reset it so many times since.

Eddie isn't sure he fully believes the tale that goes with it, but Steve does, so he'll never contradict it. Time travel? Eddie had died? And now, instead, everyone else died? Vecna taking over the earth is Steve's fault?

There ain't no way. Eddie will never believe that.

Steve's just cracked a little. Which, understandable. They've been through hell and back.

Click, click, click.

Nothing happens. Nothing ever happens.

Steve puts the stopwatch back in his pocket, buttoning the pocket closed. A nightly ritual that never produces any results. Even still, Steve's determined to keep it safe. Eddie thinks the only thing Steve protects more than the stopwatch is Eddie himself.

"Tell me a story," Steve demands, and lays his head down next to Eddie's on the bunched up duffle bag they are using for a pillow.

It's not much, but it's better than the ground.

Eddie's imagination hasn't truly run wild in a while. Maybe not since before he ever heard the cursed name Vecna, ripped from the game he once loved, and thrust right into the real world. With real consequences.

But he misses telling stories.

So, he'll try. For Steve.

"Once upon a time..."

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[egrets-not-regrets]

Christmas Gifts

Kalium's (Iron Warrior OC) first Christmas with his bonded child, Kona, and her mother, Kiri.

Author's Note:

**Dialogue spoken in Gothic Language is bolded and italicized. **

Kalium in Husbandry AU. A little late for Christmas, but this is just indulgent Christmas fluff. This takes place before Ghilus the Night Lord joined the family.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

Kalium tilted his head in confusion at his giggling bonded child, Kona. As much as he adored his little charge, there were just some things he has yet to understand. Like her concept of play, how much rest she needed, how tiny she was, the many things she didn’t have the strength to do and needed assistance, the concept of days off and holidays and why she gets so excited for those. Luckily, Kona’s mother, Kiri, was there to explain most baseline concepts and answer his questions. 

He wanted to say that he knew enough to care for Kona by himself as he saw other Astartes have done. Kona was his child after all. There were creches for young bonded children to play together and be cared for, but he wasn't so ignorant to say that Kona did not need the care of her mother. It eases his mind that Kiri could take care of most baseline children’s needs, especially while he was away. Plus, Kona was very attached to her mother, so to separate her from her mother would cause more grief than necessary, and then he would have to expend more effort to constantly comfort his child. Considering Kona’s sire had been deceased (Kiri never expanded on that) for a while, it was more efficient to step into the role of the missing father figure instead. 

This particular holiday seemed to span the entirety of the month with the town seeming to come alive with festive lights and decorations, some of which he had installed with his fellow battle brothers. He wasn’t sure what it was about, though others compared it to Sanguinala. Even then, he never understood it, being garrisoned to an outpost on a small planet in the farther reaches of the Segmentum Obscurus. By the time they learned of their legion’s treachery, they were already embroiled in battling chaos marines and the abominations coming to raid their planet for supplies. There was nothing to celebrate about. 

However, he wasn’t about to stomp on Kona’s joy for the holiday season. He helped decorate the house, brought a large pine tree home and decorated it with her, made treats and cookies, and enjoyed the festive outdoors with Kiri and Kona when he had the time. Kiri explained that Christmas was a celebration of the birth of some demi-god called “Jesus” and other traditions like decorating trees and getting together with loved ones and gift-giving were all part of it. Supposedly, Saint Nicholas, either an Imperial Saint or a warp-touched creature, delivered gifts to children on the night of Christmas eve. Kalium knew it was mainly a story to get children to behave during the year and their parents were the ones acquiring the gifts for them.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shriek of happiness, “Kalium! See? He looks like you!” Kona shoved a plush doll of an Iron Warrior in his face. 

The iron Warrior gently took the doll from Kona’s hands to look at it, appreciating the detailing of the doll’s plush armor. He chuckled, “Indeed he does, Little Bird.” before handing it back to his bonded child. 

Kiri smiled and reached over to give the Iron Warrior plushie a quick pat, “Now you have a mini Kalium to protect you when Kalium is not home.”

“I love him so much!” Kona squealed and squeezed plushie-Kalium in her arms, “Thank you, Mama!”

Kalium’s mouth stayed in a fond grin, watching his bonded hug the doll version of him tightly. Reaching under the tree, the non-plushie Iron Warrior pulled out a small box and gave it to his bonded child, “Here. This one is yours.” watching with anticipation as Kona quickly ripped the paper off and took out a little puzzle box with an expression of happiness and surprise. 

“Is it a puzzle? You make it?” she asked, her voice full of childish awe.

Kalium pulled her into his lap, his eyes crinkling with happiness and pride, “Yes, I made this puzzle. You have to move the pieces around and it will change into something else.”

“Like Legos?”

“Like Legos and the Rubics cube.” he confirmed.

Kona started to pull on the pieces of the puzzle cube, asking, “What does it make?”

“You tell me once you rebuild it!” Kalium laughed, watching a cute determined pout forming on his bonded child’s face. 

“Okay…” Kona dramatically sighed. 

Kiri reminded her daughter, “What do you say to Kalium?”

Kona flung herself into the Iron Warrior’s chest, “Thank you, Kalium!” 

Kalium quickly caught her, then tossed her into the air, catching his giggling bonded again in a secure hug, “You’re welcome, Kona.” he replied, feeling content. He then reached for another present, pushing it to Kiri. She looked at him bewildered, not expecting a gift from her child’s bonded Astartes. Kona, perched in Kalium’s arm, bounced excitedly, “Mama! Open it! Kalium made it and I helped!”

Kiri gave a playful suspicious look at the pair, “Really?”

Her daughter insisted, “Yes! Mama, please open it!”

Kiri chuckled and tore off the paper wrapping. Inside, was a beautiful wooden folded step stool, covered with playful and intricate wood burn art, and finished with a golden brown stain. The different art styles between Kalium and Kona were very recognizable, though in the back of her mind, Kiri had concerns that Kalium let Kona do wood burning in the first place… which could always be addressed later, she figured. She then laughed, “Kalium, are you calling me short?”

The Iron Warrior shared a glance with a giggling Kona then grinned, “You needed help to reach the top cabinets in the kitchen, this way you will have assistance when I am away.”

Her laughter drifted off into an thankful smile and replied, “Thank you, you two. This is beautiful and will be very helpful. I love you both very much.” She walked over and hugged them both, giving their cheeks a quick kiss. Kalium was speechless, not used to the affectionate gesture from his bonded’s mother. Kona hugged her mom back and spoke for the both of them, “You’re welcome, Mama! Merry Christmas.”

Kiri then took a large flat package from under the tree and handed it to her daughter, “Kona, don’t you have a gift for Kalium too?”

Kona took the present and gave it to her Astartes, saying, “Kalium! Here’s your present!”

With a grin, Kalium took the gift and ripped off the paper, pulling out an Astartes-sized Christmas sweater. Looking at the matching festive sweaters that Kiri and Kona wore, Kalium realized that he also got a matching sweater too. 

Kiri gently encouraged him, “Try it on. See if it fits you.”

He put Kona down and slipped on the sweater. Luckily, it fit him. Kona clapped in joy, pointing to her sweater, beaming, “See! Now we’re the same!”

Kiri looked at him fondly, “You’re family. It’s only right we get you a Christmas sweater too.”

Suddenly Kalium’s chest felt tight with emotion. He had long since forgotten what it felt like to be part of a family. While he has a sense of brotherhood with other battle brothers within his garrison, it wasn’t the same as this. This sudden rush of warmth in his hearts, knowing that this was his home to return to, his child, his family. 

“Merry Christmas, Kalium.” Kiri and Kona said in unison.

Purring, Kalium gathered both of them in his arms and mumbled, “Merry Christmas.”

[imerian]

Vr46 academy keychains

Set of five charms that all match in different ways

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 . ✦　　˚　

Open for detailed pictures of each one

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

˖⁺‧₊˚⭒✮⭒˚₊‧⁺˖

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

I ran out of tags so I'll say it here but i would greatly appreciate a reblog, especially if you share your thoughts on these pieces in tags (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

(Also i forgot that bez have matching part with luca so I didn’t add that to tags sorry

[nightmarearian]

blood dripped from Poseidon's mouth, red.

red.

the day they overthrew Kronos, child-eater (stomach acid crawling around them, after maw of teeth grazing his small, child body), his golden ichor bled red.

god blood, degraded into a mortal's.

the day Typhon, father of monsters (as big as their father was, as big as the Titans with sharp claws and teeth) ripped out Zeus' tendons, his blood was red.

Poseidon, god of the tides, son of Kronos, looked up at the dark shape stood above him, his own golden trident in his hand, the teeth like prongs drenched in red.

Odysseus is a mortal. was a human.

sharp webbed ears spread out on the side of their head, scales grew around their neck and arms, shining like a coral reef, illuminated by their growing red eyes, that were shrunken to slits.

Odysseus' teeth glinted in the lightning, showing their unnaturally sharp point.

monster.