#so sometimes she's the same brand of ridiculous as him

[foggyfanfic]

Mirabel's Super Secret Adventure

Movie AU

Chapter Preview: How many secrets were Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra keeping? First the cracks, then Isabela, now this.

Prologue Prev Next Masterlist

7. Things Bruno Doesn't Talk About

Mirabel’s epiphany made her re-examine her wish to keep the cracks to herself. On the one hand, she really kind of wanted to be the person who fixed all this; on the other, if somebody in her family was really in that much pain…

Shouldn’t Mirabel focus on fixing it fast rather than by herself?

Reluctantly, Mirabel decided she would share what she’d learned with Tío Bruno. He, at the very least, would still allow her to help. If she told Abuela she would be thanked for bringing it to her attention, then told to go rest and let somebody else handle it.

After she finished helping her Pá teach Antonio, she headed over to Tío Bruno’s room and knocked on the door. This time, when she didn’t get an answer, she walked in. Tío Bruno had a tent hidden somewhere in the cave system that ran throughout his canyon, so if he wanted privacy he would just hide in his tent. As such, the kids in the family were always allowed to enter his room and hang out in his storytelling tent in the middle of his canyon’s oasis.

Mirabel ducked under his sand curtain and paused on the landing to shake the sand out of her hair. Octavia was down at the bottom of the canyon, using the sand to practice different gazebo designs. She paused halfway through making an octagon shaped gazebo to wave at Mirabel, then got back to work.

“What do you think?” Octavia asked, holding the sand in the shape that she wanted.

“I like the trellis siding,” Mirabel answered.

“Yeah, I don’t know, feels pretty basic,” Octavia frowned, then she grinned and with a few twitches of her fingers, the diamond shaped holes became hearts.

Mirabel frowned at the hearts.

“What? Too much?”

“No uh, it’s just,” she thought about biting her tongue, but she’d already told Amada, so she might as well keep flapping her mouth, “Isabela doesn’t want to marry him. She’s doing it for the family. Your Pá has a plan to fix things though.”

“Oh,” Octavia paused, then adjusted the hearts so they were in two parts with a jagged line in between them, “so, that better?”

Mirabel couldn’t help a dry chuckle, “Abuela would blow a gasket.”

Octavia giggled, “Yeah.”

Mirabel watched for a while as her cousin made gazebo after gazebo, each one slowly becoming more extravagant. Eventually Octavia was making entire gazebo palaces. It was a far cry from the sloppy houses she’d made in front of the town’s architect.

Most of the time, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. A gazebo is a whole lot simpler than a house, after all. But with her mind still buzzing away, looking for problems large enough to cause all those cracks, she found herself eyeing the ease with which Octavia molded the sand.

Now that Mirabel was really thinking about it, Octavia seemed to be ten times better at using her gift whenever Abuela wasn’t watching.

“Octavia?” Mirabel asked, slowly.

“Yep?” Octavia chirped, adding another open air turret to the top of the gazebo's right wing.

“Do you… pretend to be worse at your gift when Abuela is around?”

The gazebo palace collapsed in on itself, Octavia slowly turned towards Mirabel, wide eyed. It was all the confirmation Mirabel needed.

She whispered, “Please don’t tell.”

“I won’t, I won’t, but… why?”

“Because I don’t want to end up like Luisa.”

“Like Luisa-? Oh.”

Octavia jerked her shoulders in a shrug, “By the time she was my age, she was already working eight hours a day. Now she doesn’t even get to finish breakfast half the time.”

Mirabel slowly nodded, to show that she’d heard her, then drifted over to the story telling tent. She entered the dimly lit haven and sat down on one of the many floor cushions. The tent flap opened, letting unfiltered light in, then closed and Octavia sat next to her, fiddling with a rock.

There was a long period of contemplative silence.

“Are you happy?” Mirabel eventually asked. Was anyone in their family truly happy?

“I am,” Octavia said, smiling a little, “although, sometimes I feel a bit guilty for hiding what I can do from everybody.”

“So everyday, when you practice with Tía Leandra?”

“We mostly just play around, experiment with my gift and stuff,” Octavia shrugged, “I am actually learning about architecture, I do want to make houses, but I want to be a kid first. You know?”

“When did you start pretending?”

“Pretty much immediately,” Octavia floated the rock in the palm of her hand and began running it through different shapes, “Má has always been-. The first thing I learned was all the ways to make a house poorly, right? Long run it means when I want to make a house well, I just don’t do any of the things I’d do to make it bad. Short term, I know exactly how to make it look like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“And Tía Leandra has been helping you lie? This whole time?”

“It was my parents’ idea,” Octavia admitted, “well, I think it was Pá’s, but he’s not great at the whole, sneaky subterfuge thing, so Má has been handling it. Oh! Since you know now, you wanna see the Eiffel Tower?”

“Sure,” Mirabel said, faintly, mind still reeling. How many secrets were Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra keeping? First the cracks, then Isabela, now this.

Tío Bruno had said his gift meant he knew a bunch of stuff that wasn’t technically his business, even Amada had learned things through her limited sight that weren’t hers to tell. Dolores was the same way, she knew everything about everyone, and barely ever said a word. As Mirabel followed Octavia back out to the dessert portion of the canyon bottom, she wondered what her life would have been like if she had gotten a gift. Specifically a gift that made her privy to information she wasn’t meant to know.

Would she keep so many secrets too?

“Ok, so! The trick is to lift all the sand up then shape it as it falls,” Octavia said brightly, lifting what must have been a ton or two of sand, she tilted her head, “hold on, that’s a little too much.”

She separated out some of the sand and dumped it, then examined her giant sand cloud. She grinned and nodded and began releasing the sand a little at a time.

“I have to be careful to remember all the big clumps at the top, there’s rooms and stuff up there you know,” Octavia continued to narrate, glancing excitedly at Mirabel every few minutes to make sure she was paying attention, “and then I gotta make all the cross beams. On all four sides, too. See! Then I used to put this part that all the people can stand on half way down, but it’s more like a quarter of the way up. Riiiiiiiiight there! Now the legs are nice and thick, but if I make them too thick it looks really cartoony, so it’s got to be just the right level of thick. And ta-da! The Eiffel Tower!”

She held the tower steady with one raised hand and put the other one on her hip, grinning broadly at Mirabel. 

“It’s amazing,” she told her, honestly. Because it was. The tower was about as tall as Tío Bruno’s canyon, and molded with such precision that Mirabel could make out all the little rivets, bolts, and screws holding it together.

“Yeah, I’m really good at this,” Octavia allowed the sand to fall in a controlled implosion, then turned back to Mirabel, “Sometimes I wish I could show off, you know? But I know the second I do I’ll pretty much just be Luisa the Sequel. Má and Pá always do a good job of acting impressed with me, and so do Amada and Gabe.”

“Wait, Gabe knows? And he hasn’t-?”

“Tattled? Of course not, you think he wants the townspeople treating one of his precious baby sisters the way they treat Luisa? Hell, if he could figure out how to get people to back off Luisa, he would.”

“Hold on, am I literally the last to know how overworked Luisa is?”

“Nah, pretty sure that’ll be Luisa herself,” Octavia lifted more sand and started making a statue of the family instead, “and your Má doesn’t know because she’s always working too, and Isabela doesn’t know because she’s always practicing being perfect, and Camilo doesn’t know because he’s always babysitting or entertaining the villagers, and I don’t think Tío Agustín or Tío Félix know because they got so many chores to do around the house.”

“But your parents know,” Mirabel filled in, “and they told you three?”

“Not really, Gabe noticed it by himself, and Má might have noticed it and told Pá. Or Pá told Má when he had that vision. I don’t know. But that’s how Amada and I found out, we saw Pá’s vision-. Wait… I maybe shouldn’t tell you about that.”

“What vision?”

“Um, nothing, no vision. Pá doesn’t have visions, he can’t even see!”

“Octavia, what vision?!”

She waved her hand and suddenly the sand gathered around her in a windowless dome. Mirabel tried digging into the sand, but it actively resisted her hands.

“Octavia!”

The dome didn’t budge. 

Eventually, Mirabel put her hands on her hips and looked up towards Tío Bruno’s vision cave. She could barely see it from her place on the ground. Tío Bruno said that it got taller and taller every year, but had slowed down ever since he had started giving weekly story time to the kids.

Climbing up there was still the worst.

Which was exactly why Mirabel suspected that was where he stored any visions he didn’t want anyone to see. Nobody climbed up those stairs unless they had to. Tío Bruno had a secret passageway up there, but, well it was a secret passageway, not a well known passageway.

So, leaving the dome behind, Mirabel made her way to the stairs. She took a few deep breaths, then started the long journey up to the vision cave.

About halfway up, Mirabel wondered if she really needed to see this vision. It was about Luisa after all, not her. It probably wasn’t any of her business. 

However, it might be connected to the cracks.

Or, it might give Mirabel some way to help her older sister.

Granted, if the vision could help Luisa in any way, Tío Bruno had probably already tried. But Mirabel would bet good money that the vision was about whatever warning Luisa had been ignoring. Maybe if she knew what was coming, she could give Luisa an extra push.

Three quarters of the way up, Mirabel paused to take a few more deep breaths, hands on her hips.

Almost there, she told herself, almost.

Steeling herself, she kept going.

She had to stop for another breather before crossing the bridge. If telling stories to kids had made the stairs slow in their growth, they needed to start making him tell stories once a day, then the stairs might actually shrink.

The bridge was thin, and felt pretty rickety. It was two lines of wooden planks side by side, suspended by some rough rope. Mirabel was just grateful there was a safety line on either side.

Carefully, Mirabel crossed the bridge, gritting her teeth as it swayed beneath her. She didn’t want to go too fast, but she definitely didn’t linger.

Mirabel could count on one hand all the times she’d been up here. And most of them were before the bridge had slimmed down to its current state. Usually when Tío Bruno gave personal visions, only he and Tía Leandra would come up. If he was giving one of his showy visions about fun stuff, he generally did it in the old river bed, so he could make the sand whirlwind as big as it needs to be to hold everybody in attendance.

As she entered the corridor to the actual cave, her eyes roved over the carvings on the wall. There were shelves full of incense and herbs, and a few vision tablets she recognized as being some of his favorite visions.

None of them featured Luisa.

Next, Mirabel eyed the big circular door. It looked heavy, but when she got her hands on the door knob, it swung open easily enough.

The cave beyond was about as dark as she expected, and, unsurprisingly, filled with sand. The only thing in the room other than sand and stone was a locked trunk. Mirabel propped the door open and walked over to the trunk, kneeling in front of it. The lock was a simple padlock, an old thing with a keyhole.

Mirabel glanced over her shoulder, then reached into her bag. She pulled out two of her thickest embroidery needles and began working at the lock.

Not that Mirabel had any experience with lock picking, of course. She had never ever, for random example, broken into a cupboard Abuela had hidden the good scissors in, or anything like that. It was purely beginner's luck that allowed Mirabel to open the padlock within minutes.

She placed the lock aside and opened the trunk. Sitting inside were three visions, stacked on top of eachother. The first was clearly very old and showed a much younger Tía Leandra wearing very little clothing; Mirabel wrinkled her nose and put that one aside. Underneath it was a vision showing Luisa standing by her pool, easily hefting Mariano over the water with one hand, and Dolores with the other. They were all laughing.

Mirabel cocked her head, she couldn’t think of a single reason why this vision would be hidden. Carefully, she picked it up, but when she held it up and changed the angle, the vision shifted to a much less cheerful image.

Instead, Luisa was now standing among rubble, clearly struggling to lift a section of wall off a crate.

Mirabel gasped as she started shifting the tablet back and forth, watching the happy scene appear and disappear.

Was Luisa going to lose her gift? Why?

Tío Bruno had apparently been telling Luisa she needed to relax, but how could her not relaxing lead to her gift going away? 

And what was with the rubble?

Mirabel dropped the vision into her lap, staring into the middle distance. For a few seconds, all she could do was blink dumbly into nothing, trying to figure out what this vision meant. Then something caught her eye.

Was that her?

Slowly, heart beating in her ears, Mirabel reached into the trunk and pulled out the last vision. It was like the one of Luisa, if she held it one way, Mirabel was standing in front of a perfectly intact Casita, if she tilted it the other, Casita was falling to pieces behind her.

This must be how Tío Bruno found out about the cracks. This must be the vision he had that told them Mirabel had miracle magic for emergencies. Mirabel had always assumed the vision showed her fixing whatever was broken, that it ended with a happy image. This vision didn’t look happy, it didn’t even look certain.

She hadn’t even considered the thought that she might not succeed. That she might not fix the cracks. Of course she would, this was Encanto, and she was a Madrigal. Mirabel couldn’t let her familia or the village down.

Suddenly she remembered Dolores’ words of warning, “If you can’t live up to the village’s expectations” she had trailed off but the implication had been that you would end up like Tío Bruno. Hated by many, and blamed for things beyond your control. 

After a few seconds of thought, she put the other two visions back, but kept the one about her.

Mirabel re-locked the trunk and hurried out of the cave, closing it behind her. She walked across the bridge as quickly as she dared, and had to struggle to keep herself from running down the stairs. When she was halfway down, she noticed that there were two more people standing at the bottom of the canyon.

Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra.

When they looked up and saw her they both smiled, Tío Bruno raising his hand to wave at her. Then they must have noticed the vision in her hand because Tía Leandra visibly grimaced and Tío Bruno’s hand stopped mid-wave.

To their credit, when she got to them, neither of them bothered to lecture her about snooping.

“I hope that’s not the one of me,” Tía Leandra said, Tío Bruno sent her a look, but she just flashed her cheekiest grin at him and he melted.

“I am honestly trying to forget I saw that, thanks,” Mirabel said.

“I uh I’m guessing that one is-,” Bruno rubbed nervously at his arm.

In answer, Mirabel held up the vision so they could see, “How do I fix things?”

The two adults exchanged a look, but didn’t respond. Octavia leaned as far forward as she could without losing her balance to see the tablet, then frowned, brows wrinkled.

“Do I, I don’t know, pray at the candle? Hug everybody in the family? What? How do I heal the cracks?”

“What cracks?” Octavia cut in. She must have been standing at an angle from which Casita was intact.

“The cracks in the walls,” Mirabel answered, eyes fixed on her Tío, “he’s been patching them for years but they keep growing.”

“You saw the cracks?” Tía Leandra looked a little more surprised then Mirabel would have expected.

“How’d you get past the hole?” Tío Bruno cocked his head.

“I used a ladder to climb down, walked across, then climbed back up.”

“A ladder…? We have a ladder that long?”

“Yeah, it’s not even ten feet deep.”

“Oh.”

They both stared at her in silence for a second.

“Bruno, darling?”

“Sí mi amor?”

“We might be stupid.”

“Sí mi amor.”

Mirabel lifted the tablet again, opening her mouth to insist Tío Bruno tell her more about his vision, but was cut off when Bruno’s door opened and Camilo’s voice bounced off the canyon walls, “Time for dinner!”

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won���t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA ATSUMU x FEM READER

Being hot at the grocery store should be illegal.

wc — 800

tags — grocery store meet cute, set in the same universe as the way to the heart is through the stomach

“There is an attractive man on the other side of the grocery aisle,” you hiss at Kiyoko. Your roommate had dragged you out for a grocery run, but as the person who forced you out of the comfort of your home, she could stand to be a little nicer to you. 

Instead, she raises an eyebrow; her face conveying utter disdain, confusion, and slight pity at all once. It’s a little impressive, honestly. 

She peeks between the cracks in the shelves. Looks at you. Looks at the man. Looks at you again. She makes a motion that could be what are you waiting for or let the grandma pass so she can get her multivitamins. 

Sometimes it’s complicated when it comes to Kiyoko. She’s not great at talking without words. It’s because she’s spoiled. Must be nice to have a boyfriend who loves you so fully you don’t have to try to be understood, you think with a hint of jealousy. 

Then, she pushes you towards the other aisle in a gesture that’s unmistakable. 

“Kiyoko!” You’re appalled. “You’re not making me go over there. I’m wearing my pajamas!” 

Your pajamas are grey sweats with multiple suspicious stains from ketchup or blood or some other substance. You’re not sure. That’s why it’s suspicious. 

“Okay? He looks worse,” she says. Notably, she doesn’t tell you that you look fine. 

She probably thinks that’s reassuring. It’s not. 

The fact that he’s also in his pajamas and still looks hot is infuriating. 

And very sexy. 

Terribly so. 

“Just go talk to him,” she says. “You know if you don’t you’ll be thinking about him for days, anyway.” 

“I will not!” 

“Excuse me,” says the hot stranger, who in the time that you spent arguing with Kiyoko, has suddenly moved behind you. “Do ya mind?” 

He’s gesturing at the package of cereal behind you. 

You freeze. How did he move so quietly? And had he heard the conversation between you two? 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in your face - a little rudely. That deducts one point from his overall hotness score. You scramble away, giving him access to the shelf. 

“This is my favorite brand,” he says conversationally, “but my brother got a girlfriend lately, and every time she comes to our apartment she eats all of mine. I’ve told her not to like six million times! And he’s a chef! Why are ya even eatin’ processed junk if ya can get yer professional chef of a boyfriend to make ya whatever ya want? He’s so whipped, I swear.” 

“Aren’t- aren’t you also eating processed junk, then?” You say with trepidation.

He brushes you off with a “No, that’s different.” 

He’s…a little weird. Who just talks to a stranger like that? You have to admit that confidence is attractive - even if you’re not sure if it’s confidence or narcissism as he continues. 

“So, like. Are ya going to ask me out or what?” 

You choke on your own spit. He had overheard. There would be no better time for one of these shelves to fall on you and crush you instantly.

“Woah!” Says the hot stranger, who still hasn’t told you his name before commanding you to ask him out. “Ya okay?” 

He slaps your back as you wheeze for breath - hard. Is he an athlete in his spare time? How does anyone have that kind of arm strength? 

“I-“ You shut your mouth because actually, you don’t know what to say. How do you respond to that? 

“Come on,” says Mr. Bad Bleach Job. “I heard ya and yer little friend talking about me all the way down the aisle. I know you want in on this sexy ass.” 

He’s ridiculous. Are you - are you into that? You’re seriously reevaluating your mental health even as you say, almost to your own surprise, “Can I take you on a date?” 

He wrinkles his nose. “I dunno. Can ya make it a little more romantic?” 

“Why don’t you ask me out if you’re going to be so demanding?” You challenge. 

“Sure,” he says easily. “Wanna go out? We can get fancy sushi for fun and eat McDonald’s after cause that’s real food.” 

Even you can’t tell if the noise that escapes you is a laugh or a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into? 

“Whatever,” you say, handing him your phone. “I think mine was better.” 

“They both kind of sucked. 5/10 for execution, -2 for sheer cringe, -3 for awkwardness.” 

“Kiyoko, read the room.”

[tibby-art]

I’m adoring the Hitman AU. Scar and Cub share a braincell and Grian just looks like she wants to go home and sleep.

I’m curious as to what powers ConVex has. Or what their motives are with Grian. (ConVex trying to corrupt her.)

I've been picturing Cub and Scar's vex powers as being able to transform into a vex form (pale blueish skin, white hair/eyes, wings, fangs, claws, the whole nine yards). The forms allow them to move at lightning speed and fly, making them perfect as silent killers in their roles as hitmen. They're super sneaky and fast.

I think the vex work with pacts as well - if you make a pact with a vex, they're unable to go against said pact. That's how they ended up working for the government as hitmen. I imagine that in their past they were very powerful and corrupt criminals at Concorp (standard protocol for convex in an au i'd say). One day the government catches up to them, and they're given a choice: Go to top-security prison for one bajillion years because you're a dangerous vex criminal OR make a pact with the government and work under them, using your powers for good. So, Cub and Scar are technically here by choice, but their choices were limited. They're bound by a fae contract that they must perform their given duties as hitmen - they bend the rules and find loopholes whenever possible, though. Vex are tricky like that. They'll get ordered to take out a dangerous crime boss, but because you didn't technically specify that you wanted that done today, they took the day off to go golfing. They'll get to it tomorrow :J (The government learns the hard way that when you order Cub and Scar to kill someone you must specify to them not to eat the person because that has happened and that will happen again and everything is terrible)

Grian is in a similar situation, but he was given less of a choice. While Cub and Scar made their own pacts with the vex to gain their powers, Grian's watcher powers are something she did not ask for at all. The Watchers are much more mysterious than the Vex, not a lot is known about them and they're considered almost a myth until Grian shows up. This makes her more dangerous and unpredictable, in the government's eyes. Grian isn't allowed to just walk away and go back to being a normal member of society - nobody knows what he's capable of (not even Grian knows) so the government needs to keep a close eye on her. When she's paired up with Cub and Scar for missions, the vex are ordered to keep an eye on Grian, and step in if things get too dangerous. Cub and Scar think this is BS and they almost pity Grian, deep down, since he's essentially in the same spot they're in but worse. When their pact says to keep Grian from getting too dangerous, they interpret it as, "Well, if we help her figure out her powers, she's more in control and that will make everything safer :J"

I don't think Convex is trying to corrupt her - I think the government is the one being manipulative here. Convex sees it. I think they genuinely want to help her grow and discover new abilities and how to use them. They're Convex, though, so they might not be the best role models lol. I think what they're trying to do is help her get more confidence and more control over her powers. Cub is a scientist who is very good at figuring out how Grian's abilities work, what he can and can't do, the limits of said abilities, etc. and Scar has the most creative and insane ideas on how to utilize watcher powers that it sometimes leads to discovering something brand new. I can picture him being like, ":J Hey have you ever tried using your watcher powers to spy on a specific location from like, fifty miles away" and Grian is like "Scar that's ridiculous that's not how it works" and then she tries it and is amazed when that actually does work. Scar's like ":J yeah I made that up I didnt think it would work Can you spy on Disneyland now"

[fountainpenguin]

can i be honest im so intrigued by ur idea of a dev/trev/bev friendgroup even though you mentioned it maybe twice during ur liveposting

i know its mostly cuz they have basically the same name but i think its funny... saddest soppy wet-est kid in the school, some guy with hair in the ugliest shade of green and a girl who loves football and owns a talk show have something in common, somehow

I think we should go all the way and have a Trev, Dev, Bev, and Kev friend squad. And we can add the random kid who's listed on the kindness chart by the name Whatevs. Just call them The Evs.

It's so stupid, but I genuinely am shocked they all have rhyming names and they aren't a background squad. It is ridiculously funny to me that the vibe I get from Hazel's class is that the creators came up with a bunch of Ev names as their filler (with Dev specifically introducing Trev, Bev, and Kev to Hazel when she gets to school) and Dev himself fits this rhyming pattern.

Dev: Dad, I'm one of the youngest kids in my grade... did you just copy the names the other parents gave their children? Dale: Dale: Dale: No.

Even Devin rhymes with Kevin

I feel like Dev and Kev cross paths sometimes since Kev is a child model / the brand face for a popular soft drink. It also makes sense they wouldn't since being a child model and the son of a billionaire are two different things.

But of the people in Dev's class, it is astronomically funny to me that Dev looked at Trev and Bev and said "I want these regulars" and he doesn't seem particularly into hanging out with Kev.

Anyway, whatever this trio and/or quartet has going on cracks me up. I like that Dev and Trev both have a crush on Bev (Trev was distraught when they broke up in the finale due to Anti-Fairies magically setting Bev up with someone else).

Utterly fascinated that A New Wish canon is that Anti-Fairies don't have to follow Da Rules. Logically that makes total sense, but it's still interesting because we didn't see them pushing this angle in the OG series... but this somehow makes Timmy and Vicky unwishing each other's stuff - something godkids aren't supposed to be able to do iirc - that much funnier. Me, ever since I saw the episode: Why can Foop just tell Vicky that Timmy is a godkid? If he's her godparent, he's not allowed to do that; godkids have to cross paths on their own. Me now: Ahhh...... I understand...

I actually went back and watched, and Trev and Bev are definitely better friends with each other than either is with Dev. Trev and Bev are near each other in a lot of the background scenes. We don't really see them interacting, but they do seem to know each other and/or enjoy each other's company, so I thought it was funny when they were apparently dating (holding hands with hearts in eyes) in the finale.

Meanwhile, Dev rarely approaches either of them beyond being pulled into Hazel's Broadway show, where he's a back-up dancer, which isn't necessarily his choice (especially considering how happy he is in the song despite being a jerk in the other scenes... lmao).

- although he did give Bev double pudding when we know he was being super picky about whom he gave it to, which doesn't necessarily mean anything, but I think it's funny.

Oh, I was gonna post a screenshot but I can't because the red lighting on her pudding-slathered body in that scene sets off my hemophobia and that's even BEFORE the zombie stuff, lmao... Just trust me on this- she has a cup in each hand.

And we KNOW the only person she could've gotten the pudding from is Dev, who is confirmed to have hoarded all the pudding cups and was only giving them to people who impressed him. We even see him take one cup away from Jenkins after giving him two, so he was being SUPER picky.

Look at them... They are The Evs...

I just want them to be friends... They all have fun designs and personality... I think they should play on the playground or go to the movies.

sdkljfsd, Dev is the shortest one in this whole picture. Everyone in this class utterly dwarfs him. Which makes sense, because Hazel started school in this show at age 10 and Dev is 9 until the midpoint in Season 1. He's just a little guy...

Like... Does Trev KNOW Dev has a crush on Bev? I can totally imagine Dev watching them date and being like "Hey... wait a minute."

^ The face you make when you just find out your secret crush is dating your secret squish.

- I CANNOT get over the fact that Dev has a canon squish. He just wants to be Trev's friend so badly but he's too shy to talk to him... That's hilarious. I wish we would explore that, because that's not something you usually get to see explored in media. - ... I am lying. Winn is everyone's squish in this episode and that's also canon. Everyone likes Winn, AS THEY SHOULD. Winn is so friendly and kind, even (and especially) when people are nervous around them. - Dev stop having squishes on his entire class challenge (Impossible). - "Multiverse of Jenkins" except every time Hazel walks past Dev, he's head-in-hands-ing over a new person he wants to befriend but screwed up talking to.

Honestly, looking back on "Wellsington Hotellsington" makes me kind of sad because... it's obvious Dev is trying to make friends in the only way he really knows. He's being a brat and a braggart, but at least he was engaging in conversation. This is one of the only episodes (if not THE only) where he makes a real effort.

Tell us how it's really going, Mr. Many Times Bitten, Many Times Shy. Ahaha... he needs to improve himself.

I really like how we see Hazel have to work to make new friends at school and she puts effort in, so we see why people befriend her, and meanwhile Dev is just... consistently not interacting with people and then sitting around upset he has no friends. He is 9.

Anyway, I just think The Evs' dynamic would be funny to explore. It's got everything you need! Dev being the worst! Bev leading them into action, but mostly to soccer-football games! Trev being super supportive and friendly and kind! Those two dating while Dev third wheels and stares into the camera! Idk what Kev does!

I think Dev should just stand in the middle of all his squishes and say "oh no." This would be a 'fic that resolves absolutely nothing because he just vibrates slightly as sweatdrops roll down his face and he's scared to open his mouth, but I would find it funny.

They are just so silly (to me)...

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Stuffy

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.4k

Summary: Little Nat loses something important to her

A/N: First in a series of little nat stories inspired by ideas from @rianncreates

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, cuteness 

When Natalya was born, she was surrounded by her family. You and Wanda were with her, and after a few minutes in private the rest of your family had joined you two. They’d all been excited to meet their new niece, and the tired, yet happy parents carefully handed her off for one-on-one time with her aunts and uncles. They’d all bought gifts for her, and you watched happily as Wanda accepted them on Little Nat’s behalf once you were all back at your house the next day. You were still exhausted, but seeing your friends with such unfamiliar excitement was like adrenaline to you. You smile widely as Pietro presents his sister with a gift that he’d certainly had for some time. It was the only way he’d could have gotten it personalized like this.

“See, sestra? Isn’t it great?”

In a very on brand decision, Pietro had gotten his niece a onesie that said ‘My favorite Maximoff’ and beneath it is an outline of Pietro’s profile. You found it hilarious and luckily your wife was too tired to be anything but amused by it. She claimed that Natalya would never wear it, but only an hour later once she’d fallen asleep, Pietro is changing Natalya.

Bucky and Steve brought her a ridiculously soft blanket and matching pillow that you immediately want to steal from her. Instead, you let them wrap Natalya in the blanket and put her pillow on the shelf of her nursery until she’s old enough to have it in her crib.

Lastly, Yelena and Nat got your daughter a large green sea turtle toy that was almost larger than she was. It was Yelena’s idea of a gag gift since Natalya wouldn’t be able to play with this for a while, but you loved it. Turtles were one of your favorite animals, and you definitely already have Yertle the Turtle on the bookshelf in the nursery. You hug all of your friends with a grateful smile before Wanda does the same. You know that Natalya is going to treasure all of these gifts when she’s older and better able to associate them with her family.

You should have guessed which one she’d like the most.

When she was old enough to have things in her crib, you’d put the pillow, blanket and stuffed turtle with her. She’d cuddle up at night under the blanket with her turtle clutched in her arms. You found it adorable and took many, many pictures of your daughter sleeping soundly with her gifts. You sent pictures to your friends more often than not to show them how cute your daughter was.

As soon as she was able, she’d drag the huge turtle around with her everywhere she went. The first time one of the dogs grabbed it she’d cried so loudly Wanda dropped the entire pan of brownies she’d baked. She’d had to rush back and clean them up once she confirmed that Natalya wasn’t hurt, but she watched her daughter try and steal her toy back for a few seconds before you helped her out.

The dogs weren’t the only ones she didn’t want touching her toy. If you or Wanda grabbed it for her, Natalya would start to whimper and tear up. It was a little concerning how possessive she was of it, but luckily she got better as she got older.

When Natalya was nearly 2 years old, she was still bringing her turtle, who she’d dubbed Winston, to every meal. He sat in her lap as she ate and she sometimes pretended to feed him from her plate. You found it adorable until one day when Little Nat was eating ice cream, and she dunked Winston’s head in it. You’d had to clean him and you’d feared that she would be upset, but luckily, she was too preoccupied eating her ice cream to care. You smile at the sight of her humming happily and you nearly curse as you drop the turtle in the sink when you turn the water on too high.

“Oh snap!”

When Wanda wakes up from her nap, she finds you and Natalya sitting in the living room on the couch together. You’re both asleep as a Disney movie plays, and Nat is snuggled up into your side as she holds her turtle Winston under one arm. She has her thumb in her mouth and Wanda is quick to take a picture and send it to Natasha and Yelena. They’re very glad, even if a little surprised that Nat loves her turtle so much.

One Sunday morning, you and Wanda are trying to spend an extra few minutes in bed before starting your day, but the sound of crying down the hall makes you race to your daughter’s room.

“Natalya? What’s wrong?”

Wanda’s right on your heels as you push the door open and hurry into your daughter’s bedroom. You find her sitting on her bed with toys and most of her comforter thrown on the ground as she looks around tearfully. Wanda frowns at the mess but she doesn’t get to comment on it before Nat’s trying to speak through loud sobs.

“Winston!”

You look around in confusion before you realize that the turtle is nowhere in sight. Wanda’s already starting to search through all of the toys on the floor to make sure they’re not missing anything. She looks under the bed and you focus on Little Nat as you try to get her to calm down a little.

You sit down carefully before you hold out your arms to wave the brunette toward you. She doesn’t hesitate to crawl into your lap, and you hold her close with a smile as you run your fingers through her hair.

“It’s okay, Little Nat we’ll find him. Do you remember when you last had him?”

After Wanda’s given up looking for him in here, she sits down next to you to listen to Natalya’s answer. Rogue has wandered into the room at this point and he was sniffing around as Natalya rubbed at her eyes.

“I-in bed.”

You frown slightly but figure that she means right before falling asleep. You’re sure of this because you had been tucking Winston and Nat in for over a year.

“He was here when you went to sleep?”

Natalya nods against your chest before you look to Wanda with a frown.  You’re not sure where he could have gone, but you let Nat sit on the bed watching nervously as you and Wanda search her entire room. You look back toward her after about ten minutes of searching only to see that Rogue is now sitting on her bed.

“Rogue, no. Down.”

He whines before doing as he’s told and heading for the door to try his luck elsewhere. Surprisingly Natalya jumps up and runs after him with a distressed cry that makes Wanda stick her head out of the closet. Her hair’s a mess and she’s getting frustrated by their failure to find a rather large toy.

“Wogue!”

You follow after her quickly before she can head for the stairs, and Wanda finishes straightening up the mess you both had left before continuing the search.

“Natalya, wait.”

Nat had grabbed Rogue’s tail to stop him in his tracks, and the shepherd had just turned around to lick her when you stepped out of the room. You reach down to pick up your daughter as you consider where her turtle could be. Did she take it to the bathroom last night right before going to bed? You turn around to check and you’re disappointed when you confirm your suspicions. You bounce the sniffling brunette as you head downstairs and try to formulate a plan.

“We’ll keep looking for Winston, but do you want some breakfast first? Maybe some cereal?”

Usually, Natalya would begin to bounce in excitement and sometimes even clap at the suggestion of food. Especially her favorite snack food. This time she just pouts before shaking her head and turning her face so she’s hidden in your hair.

“Not hungry.”

You and Wanda both realize this is a bad sign and you turn to your wife with a frown. What were you going to do?

In the end you continue to look around the house for Natalya’s turtle while Wanda cooks breakfast and gets the coffee started. She also feeds the dogs and lets them out before you return twenty minutes later from the den with a crying toddler.

“I’m going to keep looking, Wands. Little Nat, stay here with Mama and eat, okay?”

Natalya wants to argue, but she’s getting hungrier and the smell of her favorite is weakening her resolve. She lets you set her down in a chair at the table, the pillow beneath her lifting her up enough to reach the plate that Wanda sets in front of her. She sits down with a cup of coffee before handing you one that is mostly milk. You shoot her an appreciative smile before kissing the top of your daughter’s head with a sigh.

“I’ll find him, Nat. I promise.”

Two hours later you’ve looked everywhere possible for Winston, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not on the third floor in Fletcher’s corner of stolen toys, and he’s not in any of the guest rooms, your room, Nat’s or any of the bathrooms. You even ventured downstairs into the basement, and when you emerged twenty minutes later you were sweaty and covered in spiderwebs.

“I have no idea where he is, Wands.”

You practically fall onto the couch beside Wanda as you sigh in defeat. This is bad and you realize that short of finding another identical toy, Natalya isn’t going to be happy. Wanda frowns as she turns to see that you look exhausted and stressed. You had hoped that she’d just left it somewhere obvious, maybe on the couch, or that it had fallen under the kitchen table, but no such luck. You groan quietly as you close your eyes at the feeling of Wanda’s patting your leg with a reassuring look that you completely miss.

“It will turn up, Y/n.”

You don’t argue despite feeling like you’re never going to see Winston again because you’re too tired. You’re glad that Natalya is taking a nap because you don’t know how you’re going to break this news to her. You hear the low murmurs from the television, and the sound of a dog snoring nearby. You sigh as you lean against your wife and try to relax for a minute or two.

“I hope so.”

You stifle a yawn and resist the urge to snuggle closer to Wanda out of fear of disturbing the brunette at her other side. You’re almost asleep when you hear a dog shake suddenly and you jump before opening your bleary eyes with a frown. Boone is standing up and stretching as he looks around the room. When his gaze lands on you he comes over to say hello and you just smile before holding out your hand.

“Hey buddy. How was your nap?”

He just yawns before pawing at your leg with big, sad eyes. He obviously wants to get up on the couch, but there’s no blanket nearby and you’re not about to get up. You shake your head and he just whines before you scratch his head.

“No, Boone. You can’t get up here. You know what you can do though? Find Mr. Winston for your sister.”

Boone just huffs before he heads back to where his brother is still napping. You think he’s just going to lie down and pout, but instead he goes to the back door and starts to whine again. You check your watch and see that it’s not time to go out yet, but the fact that Rogue seems interested by the prospect of a walk, you have a feeling you’ll be getting up sooner than you wanted.

“Ugh.”

“I can walk them, detka.”

You turn to Wanda before shaking your head when you notice that Natalya is still curled into your wife’s side. Any movement from her will likely wake her up, and despite it needing to happen at some point, you wanted to let your daughter sleep while you figured out what to tell her.

“It’s okay, I’ll make it fast.”

Wanda just smiles and accepts a quick kiss before you let the dogs outside. You follow them and hurry to sit down on the stairs with a heavy sigh. You’re exhausted and it’s barely noon. You stifle a yawn as you look over to see Rogue is sniffing his favorite tree, but Boone is nowhere in sight. You frown before looking around for him only to come up empty.

“Boone? Where’d you go, bud?”

You stand up and start to walk around the side of the house to search for him, but you spot a familiar tail sticking out from under the deck. You frown slightly before you stop in your tracks and put your hands on your hips.

“Boone! What are you doing under there? Come on-.”

You trail off as Boone emerges from underneath the depths of the deck with a familiar green toy in his mouth. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and you stare at your dog as he just wags his tail and brings Winston to you. He’s a little dirty, but you can’t even think about that right now. Your main concern is why Boone had taken Winston and put him under the deck of all places. You’re still speechless as Boone pushes the toy into your stomach with a grumble. You don’t take it immediately because you’re trying to push down your annoyance at having searched the entire house for this toy that your dog had taken and hidden for some reason.

“Oh my god!”

Wanda’s surprised to hear you shout while you’re outside, and she’s considering going to check on you when the dogs appear at the door. They hurry inside, but she’s more focused on you and your disgruntled expression.

“What…?”

You cut Wanda off as you hold up the stuffed animal that you’ve been searching for all morning. She shoots the dogs an incredulous look before you step inside and shut the door behind you slowly. You open your mouth to speak, but you glance to Natalya and change your mind last minute.

“I don’t even...”

Little Nat Adventures

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Prompt response

@sweetwatersong

sweetwatersong

So glad you're having fun! 😄 Hmm, what about that quote from Oliver about kissing a male actor as a prompt? "When your eyes are closed, it's the same."

Their first date is painfully awkward.

Their second date is, although he didn't think it possible, worse. 

And okay, maybe he was asking for it…he doesn't actually know what he was thinking, deciding that the best way to counteract the disaster of a first date was to invite a man he'd just met to be his plus one to Maddie's wedding. (He resolutely ignores the little voice in his head–the one that sounds suspiciously like Eddie–telling him he wasn't thinking). The 118 are…a lot. He loves them with all his heart, they are his chosen family, and he wouldn't trade them for anything…but yeah, the entire crew in full party mode would be overwhelming for an established relationship coming up on its ten-year anniversary, let alone a brand new situation with the added weight of it being his first same-sex experience. 

His parents were there for fuck's sake. He and Tommy hadn't even discussed parameters, boundaries, exclusivity, and Buck was introducing him to his parents. And granted, introducing Tommy to Bobby and Athena had felt…more…despite the strides he and his parents have made in repairing their relationship, but still.

Add into all that the absolutely impossible, ridiculous, downright Hollywood movie-style disaster that had been the bachelor party and subsequent search for the missing groom and Buck is honestly surprised that Tommy hadn't run screaming for the hills. He hadn't, though. He hadn't.

And now here they are. Three months in. Going stronger than Buck would have ever dreamed after that first embarrassing dinner date. They see each other at least a few times a week, as their schedules allow. There's a second toothbrush in the holder in Buck's bathroom. Buck's preferred brand of oat milk can be found in Tommy's fridge. Neither of them have cleared out space in drawers or closets yet, but Buck found an LAFD t-shirt with Kinard across the back in his laundry the other day, and he's pretty sure he'll find his favorite hoodie somewhere at Tommy's apartment next time he goes over. 

He's always loved this part of dating someone–the slow slide into sharing space, the little bits of each other that start mixing and melding until it's just them. He's never done it right in the past–not with Abby, not with Taylor, nor any of the other, shorter relationships he's had, he can acknowledge that now…but he's always loved it. He feels like he might be getting it right with Tommy, now. 

Evan Buckley has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that he is pretty damn sure he's falling in love with, even if they aren't quite at the point of saying it, yet. 

It's never been this easy, before. This comfortable. He thinks part of it must be that this is the first time he's dating someone that actually gets his job. Tommy understands the crazy schedules, the stress, the danger he sometimes has to put himself in, understands the drive that Buck has to help people, because that's his life too. Abby was probably the one who came the closest to being able to understand, but even she hadn't been able to fully comprehend that part of Buck's life. 

But he thinks the greater part of what makes this the most comfortable romantic relationship he's ever had is just that it's with Tommy. Tommy, who is patient and gentle when Buck needs it, and firm and demanding when he needs that, and has no problem being the one to hold and comfort him when he needs that, and accepts all that right back from Buck when he needs it. Equal. Buck doesn't think he's ever had a romantic relationship that feels so equal. Even in matters that Tommy definitely has the experience advantage in, where Buck defers to his lead, he always feels like they're going at his pace and comfort level. 

Buck's had partners who enjoyed his body before, of course. Tommy is certainly no exception on that front. He doesn't think he's ever had a partner who so clearly treasures everything that comes with his body, though. Tommy's just as interested in Buck's latest research binge and what he and Chris are doing for Chris's science project as he is in what Buck can do with his tongue besides talk. 

It's…refreshing. A little bit heady, if he's being honest. 

He’s just sliding the pan of chicken parmesan he's been assembling for dinner under the broiler for the mozzarella to get brown and bubbly when his front door opens, and the man who's been occupying his thoughts enters, work bag slung over his shoulder. Buck looks up in time to catch the tail end of the pleased, smitten grin curling his boyfriend's lips as he slides his keys back into his pocket. That’s a new thing, the freshly cut key to Buck's place on Tommy's keyring only a few weeks old. Buck has one to Tommy's apartment on his.

It's more practical than anything else right now. Their lives being what they are, there's been more than one occasion where they had plans to meet up only to find the other's shift had run over, and they were left awkwardly hanging out in the lobby of the building. They're not at a point where they're thinking of moving in together or anything…those drawers and closets haven't been cleaned out to make room for a new occupant to start leaving more than a few scraps of themselves behind. But it's not…an insignificant step. 

“Hey babe,” Tommy says, coming up behind him to wind his arms around Buck's waist as he rinses his hands at the sink. He kisses the back of Buck's neck and Buck sighs happily as he leans his weight back against his boyfriend's solid frame. “That smells amazing.”

“Bobby finally gave up his secrets to the perfect marinara,” Buck replies, turning in Tommy's arms so he can kiss him properly. 

There's still a small part of him that always marvels a little at the novelty of having to tip his head up slightly to kiss his partner. That thrills a little at the feeling of being held, enveloped in his partner's arms. He'd made light of it the couple times he's talked to people about the differences in dating Tommy–dating a man–as compared to any of the women he's been with. 

“When your eyes are closed, it's the same,” he'd told Maddie with a wink, drawing a peal of laughter from his sister. 

And that's true. In all the ways that matter, right down at the heart of it, it's all the same. 

Tommy's hands slide up under his t-shirt, stroking the skin over his ribs and the small of his back. He presses Buck back against the counter just a little, nipping playfully at his lower lip before pulling back and smiling at him.

“Well, if it's Bobby's secret sauce, I can't wait to try it. Need me to do anything?” 

“Mm, set the table? And I got a bottle of that red you liked at Bobby and Athena's last week–it needs to breathe for a few minutes.”

“I can't believe I'm dating someone who lets wine breathe,” Tommy chuckles. 

It's something Taylor might have said, back when they were together…but Taylor never would have sounded so fucking pleased about it. Like every little quirk of Buck’s was just part of his charm, something endearing. Like it was a privilege to find it out. 

They sit down to eat–Tommy makes an appreciative noise when he takes a sip of the properly-aired wine, so hah–and the conversation flows. Calls Tommy went on today, Buck's plans to take Jee to the children's museum while Tommy hits the basketball courts with Eddie this weekend, the trip up the coast they're planning for next month…if only the Buck of three months ago could see them now. 

Later, they sprawl out on his bed together, sweaty and sticky in the best way. Tommy's hand cards idly through his hair, tugging on his curls with a contented hum, and Buck stares up at the shadowed ceiling, his body loose and satisfied, his mind quiet and calm. 

He relaxes against his boyfriend, comfortable in his own skin in a way he doesn't think he's ever been in his life. 

He hadn't been lying when he told Maddie it was all the same when he closed his eyes. In all the ways that matter, it is. 

But it's also so, so different. Not because he's dating a man. Because he's dating this man. 

He can't wait to see how different this thing between them will end up being. 

This is fun and these two are adorable...hit up my askbox if you have a prompt, yo.

[weresilver]

Can you feel it?

What is this? A brand new fic for @eddiemonth? And so soon after?? (shut up this feels soon)

This is day 06, crush, and is in the same continuity as day 5. Named after Mansionair's Astronaut (Something About Your Love), that like. Please listen to them. They are a whole vibe, I love their music.

Warnings: None, this is just even more fluff. Extremely sappy get together. Steddie. I should start calling this section, like. tags or smth.

Wordcount: 2968

If he were to be honest with himself, Eddie hadn't expected to keep this monster hunting party in his life, not for long. He expected everyone to go on their way, while he was fumbling just to get out of the town.

Well, some people did go their own way. Older Byers was off to college in California with Argyle, after some extensive talk with his family and with Nancy, and Nancy herself was off in Boston.

But everyone else? Well, the kids had to finish high school before going anywhere, and Robin had decided to take a gap year that was about to end. And Steve…

Between joint recoveries and sharing almost the same group of people (and eventually truly having all the same friends), they had spent a lot of time together. They had become friends, good friends, not necessarily by choice, but the truth was that Eddie wouldn't change it for the world.

But sometimes, it was nice to just… exist. To be able to not think about the feelings he’d realized that were growing not too long ago. About how, even though he’d only noticed them recently, the feelings hadn’t been really new. About how it looked reciprocated, sometimes.

Eddie expected to hear about Steve’s plans to get out of town any day now, maybe tag along with Robin, so why do anything about the something that was brewing, right?

Deep down, Eddie knew Steve wouldn’t leave before the kids’ senior year started. At the earliest. Eddie felt pretty much the same already, after knowing them for only a little over a year. According to Robin, they did have that effect somehow.

(Something about how young they all were to have been at the whole supernatural thing for years.)

After dropping El and Will back home, he’d driven himself to a secluded little clearing, having to go the long way around so he’d actually be able to drive his van into it. But it was worth it, it’d always been worth it.

Eddie grabbed a few of the blankets stashed at the back of his van and threw them on top of it before climbing up himself. Setting up his little makeshift bed up there was a quick process; a couple of blankets to make the roof a little more comfortable, and the rest bunched together into a pillow.

It wasn’t particularly good, but it was part of his summer routine at this point, so he settled down, lying on the roof of his van. He watched the clear, evening summer sky fade into night, watching the stars come out slowly and then all at once as the animal sounds faded and changed to accompany the sky.

Some birds — owls, if he had to guess — and bats were flying overheard, occasionally cutting his vision of the stars and changing the tracks of his thoughts; the song he’d been working on, the campaign Will wanted to run for Hellfire next, Robin’s entirely too chaotic packing process, and how that girl might have surpassed him in terms of organizational chaos. At least Eddie could find his shit in half the time it had taken her to find the shoes she was taking with her.

The crunch of steps on fallen branches drew him out of his thoughts, making him turn in its direction.

“Jesus, how far is this place,” Eddie heard in a very familiar grumble. Steve was closer than he probably expected to be, and it didn’t take long before Eddie could see him on the treeline. “Uh… Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie returned, waving at him from where he lay with a grin. “Funny seeing you here.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked closer. He was wearing some ridiculous yellow shorts and what looked like an old NASCAR shirt, color and design faded with time. It was a little different from what Eddie was used to; more relaxed, like he didn’t have anyone to impress. Which was good, Eddie didn’t need to be impressed by style.

(Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve genuinely enjoyed the polos and all that, but it was still nice to see him in something else. Something softer.)

“What are you doing out here?” Steve asked once he was close to the van, just enough to still be able to see Eddie.

“Looking for Scorpius,” he stated simply, gesturing for Steve to come up. While Steve climbed to the roof of the van, Eddie adjusted the pillow of blankets so they could lie side by side. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was expecting to find you in the trailer,” Steve started, leaning back on top of the blankets on his elbows with a frown on his face. “Wayne directed me over here.” Steve looked around, frowning even harder when he glanced at the ground. “You said you’re looking for scorpions?”

“Scorpius, not scorpions,” Eddie corrected softly, turning back to the stars. “The constellation.”

Steve let out a soft “Oh,” turning to glance at the sky before lying down and making himself comfortable.

Eddie had the vague knowledge that Scorpius was closer to the horizon line, but he’d have to drive up to Hop’s old cabin and the nearby hill to actually look for it, and he just… didn’t want to go that far.

(Didn't really want to be looking over all of Hawkins.)

“What’s the story?” Steve asked after a couple of minutes spent in silence. When Eddie turned to look, Steve was already watching him, his little smile illuminated by the moon. After a beat, he added, “Constellations have those, don’t they?”

Eddie nodded, struggling a little to find his words with the way Steve was looking at him. “It’s uh…” He cleared his throat and turned back to the sky. “It’s the scorpion that killed Orion.”

He could still feel Steve’s eyes on him, waiting for more.

“Orion was a hunter, the best one humanity had to offer,” Eddie started, gesturing to their surroundings as if it could encompass every person in the world. “But he was just a human, you know? And if even the gods of ancient Greece were flawed, imagine how bad a human could be.”

He glanced at Steve, finding all of his attention still focused on him.

“His flaws are not really the point, though.” He shook his head, continuing the story. “At some point in his life, Orion was hunting with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and… Well,” he grimaced, “He claimed to be able to hunt every animal on Earth.”

“To the goddess of the hunt?” Steve questioned with that particular tone he had when he thought something was stupid. “Rather arrogant of him.”

“Yeah, but Artemis was fond of him.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but it took Eddie a moment to realize how his words could be taken. “Not like that,” he added, chuckling. “Artemis was a virgin goddess, none of that.”

Steve hummed, his expression betraying his surprise. “Good for her.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, at this tone of awe that he had.

“Where does the scorpion come in?” Steve asked, a little furrow appearing between his brow that Eddie wanted smooth out, though he had a story to finish.

“Right,” Eddie sighed out, turning once again to the stars. “Gaia, the personification of the Earth itself, didn’t like Orion’s claim.” He paused, then added, “She’s the mother of all life, so.” He gestured nonsensically upwards, finishing his story with as much a deadpan tone as he could muster. “She sent a giant scorpion to kill him.”

“A giant—” Steve burst out laughing, shaking his head in some kind of attempt to regain his composure. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—”

“It’s kind of a silly conclusion?” Eddie asked with a smile on his face as well as in his voice. Steve nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Greek mythology is kind of… Dramatic, like that,” he explained with a shrug. “Orion’s hubris got him killed by a giant scorpion—” Steve snorted, but reined himself in quickly— “And they were both raised to the sky as constellations as a warning against humanity’s arrogance.”

Steve hummed, gaze unfocused when Eddie looked at him. “Where are they, then?”

“Uh…” Eddie blinked and turned to the sky to blink some more. “Orion is not visible this time of the year, and Scorpius is closer to the horizon,” he said, raising his arm to point in the general direction he remembered the constellation being.

Steve hummed, but didn’t say anything, letting the silence and the warm evening air envelop them. Eddie expected it to grow awkward, for Steve to say something, for himself to end up fidgeting. Instead, it was easy to just exist together like this, lying side by side and watching the night sky.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, some indeterminate time later. Eddie could feel Steve move about, slowly as to not risk falling off the side, and settle on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. “El was all…” He gestured toward his face. “All frowny, and she only does that when she’s worried. Dustin also said you seemed down.”

Eddie sighed, wishing those kids paid just a little less attention. “I’m good,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Just thinking, you know?”

“About?”

“What happens now, I guess?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. “We got a couple more practice sessions before Jeff and Arnie are going back to college.”

“Gareth’s not going anywhere out of state, though, right?” Steve asked with a thoughtful little frown that Eddie couldn’t resist smoothing out with a finger this time. It earned him a soft laugh and a smack to his hand. “You guys can keep Corroded Coffin going?”

Eddie shrugged as much as he could while lying down. He tried that once, making it on his own, but it didn’t seem as worth it now.

“Think I’d rather not split the band,” he said, grimacing and knowing that Steve would pick up the story he wasn’t telling.

“So,” Steve drawled, eyes narrowed at Eddie like he’d be able to figure out whatever was going on in his head. “The plan is just to wait?”

Honestly, Eddie hated that idea, but what else could Corroded Coffin do? “Sure.” Steve eyes narrowed further, going unfocused again. “What?”

“The kids will be starting their junior year,” he stated.

Eddie hummed to let Steve know he was listening, but he had no idea where the guy was going with this.

“You should come to Indianapolis with me,” he announced.

Eddie blinked at Steve, processing his words for a moment. The offer seemed to come out of nowhere. He expected Steve to leave Hawkins at some point, he’d been preparing for that news, and now it came with an offer to tag along?

“I don’t really have any plans yet,” Steve continued, probably taking Eddie’s silence as hesitation. “We’d have to look into places, and Indianapolis is just an hour away, but it should be enough for a fresh start, right?”

Eddie nodded, a little numbly. “You, uh…” He shook his head to dislodge his surprise. “I think Gareth’s going to community college in the city, actually.”

“Is he, now?” Steve raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and not surprised.

“Right, you two talk a lot now.” It was still rather amusing that the two of them hung out so much, even without Eddie. “Will?”

“Of course it’s about Will,” Steve scoffed, waving a hand in a flourish. “It’s why he picked Indianapolis. But don’t change the subject,” he added with a smack to Eddie’s arm.

“Alright, alright!” Eddie laughed, rubbing his arm. He’d have rolled away from Steve if it didn’t mean rolling off the roof of the van. “I guess Indianapolis is pretty good…”

Steve beamed at him, a smile he’d been seeing more often as the time passed. Usually, Steve was being a little shit when he smiled like that, but sometimes, he just seemed… happy.

“You could, I don’t know, teach kids how to play the guitar.”

That made Eddie laugh, surprised at the suggestion. Not that he necessarily disliked it.

“Who’d even let me?” He asked. “Maybe I’ll find work at a record store, that seems more likely.”

“If you want to, I’m sure you could find something.” Steve shrugged, that grin not fading from his expression. “Who says you can’t do both, anyway?”

And… Well, Steve had a point. Maybe he could find a store that offered lessons?

“Why are you asking me to go to Indianapolis with you?” The question was asked before Eddie even processed that it was something he wanted to know. He grimaced as soon as it was out. “Not that I don’t want to, god knows I wanted to be out of this town three years ago now, but just— I thought you might tag along with Robin?”

Steve’s expression softened, a serene smile replacing the wide grin. “I thought about it. Robin’s going to Indianapolis University anyway, though, and…” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I think I’d like you there too.”

“You think?” Eddie questioned with a raised brow. It was easier to tease and joke than really look into that sparkle of mirth in Steve’s eyes and hope it meant what he wanted it to mean.

Steve shook his head, sending his hair all over the place. “I know. Got used to your noise, Munson.”

“Well, I’m making your life interesting, so you’re welcome.”

They were both smiling when Eddie finally let himself look Steve in the eye, finally relaxed enough even though he hadn’t escaped thinking about Steve, or his actual presence. It was fine. There some tentative plans to get out of Hawkins, together, and maybe Corroded Coffin would forever be a high school band that didn’t really go anywhere — Eddie was only starting to be okay with that idea, though — but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something else with music.

Steve laid back down on the van after a moment of silence, turning his gaze to the sky. Like this, they were touching pretty much from shoulder to knee, and Eddie was trying not to move too much, conscious of the warmth radiating from Steve.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, nudging Eddie’s hand until he could take it in his own.

“This okay?” He asked softly, not turning his head and not seeing Eddie already looking at him. Eddie squeezed his hand and intertwined their fingers as response. “I wasn’t planning on talking to you about Indianapolis tonight, you know?” His admission was soft, barely above the ambiance of the woods at night. “I was just gonna keep you company.”

“I’m glad you did.” Eddie let himself take in Steve’s face and what freckles he could see in the dark before turning away. “Easier to think I can actually get out of here when I have a tentative plan.”

“You can, Eddie,” Steve said, firmly squeezing his hand. “I meant it, I’d really like if you came to Indianapolis with me.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, and he refused to loosen the hold on his hand. Eddie sighed, turning to face Steve’s small, determined frown.

“Sometimes,” he started, hesitating before pulling their joined hands closer. “I kinda wish you were still some degree of asshole.” Steve frowned, ready to interject, but Eddie continued before he could. “‘Cause it would make getting over this ridiculous crush so much easier.”

Steve pulled their hands closer to himself this time, and Eddie could see him pursing his lips. He’d been paying too much attention, enough to know this was Steve trying to rein in one of those rare, goofy grins that had been one of the things that made Eddie fall in the first place.

“What if,” Steve started, slowly letting the grin take hold, as he started absently playing with the one ring Eddie forgot to take off before climbing up the van. “I don’t want you getting over this ridiculous crush?”

Eddie blinked at him — he felt like he’d done that a lot tonight, almost constantly surprised by Steve despite how close they’d gotten. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen this coming, too close to see what, eventually, might become obvious in hindsight.

“You mean that?”

Steve’s grin came out, full force, in the face of Eddie’s soft tone. He slowly brought Eddie’s hand closer and pressed an oh so soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I mean it.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to all that, the smooth jerk knew it and could probably see the blush undoubtedly rising on his cheeks. But there was one thing that he needed to double check.

“You know I’m—”

“Asexual?” He filled in after Eddie cut himself short. “Yeah, I do.” Steve was back to messing with the ring on his hand, looking at it with an expression Eddie still hadn’t figured out. “And I think…” He paused, frowning a little. Eddie kind of wanted to bite him. “It might apply to me too?”

Eddie rolled closer to Steve and pressed a kiss to cheek, feeling the heat rising the longer he stayed there.

“Thanks for telling me,” he mumbled against Steve’s cheek. He pressed another quick kiss before settling back down. “Feels good to know, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s laughter was light, giddy. He rolled onto Eddie this time, hugging him as close as possible.

“It really does.”

Eddie knew they would talk come morning, and they would define just what they wanted and were to each other. But for now, cuddling and laughing under the night sky with ridiculous Greek stories was all Eddie wanted to be doing.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

A bond between dragon and rider is close. Some would say, too close.

Fandom: The Empyrean/Fourth Wing

Pairing: Violet/Tairn

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Monsterfucking

AO3 Link

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Part One

She’d known from the first moment she saw him that this was the one.

Her dragon.

The way he’d towered over her like a mountain and incinerated Tynan like the ant he was. He was powerful and vicious and hers.

She’d never seen him before that moment. Barely known of his existence outside that one lecture in Professor Kaori’s class. And yet bonding with him had felt like a piece of her soul, one she hadn’t realized was missing, suddenly slotting into place. A strange sort of kinship she’d never experienced with anyone else. Not even her beloved dead father.

My name is Taireanach, he had told her. And the name has seared itself into her heart like the mark he later branded onto her back.

“I’m Violet,” she had said.

I know.

And that had been that.

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Tairn, she later learns, was a bit of an overprotective old man.

“I’ll never learn if you keep using magic to hold me here,” she’d said one afternoon, during flight maneuvers after he had locked her into her seat.

You can’t learn if you’re dead. He had groused back, his voice ringing through her head and into her bones.

A part of her still marveled over that. Of having someone else inside her head…all the time.

All the time.

It certainly took some getting used to. In some ways it felt a little like talking to herself…if she was a forever grumpy, yet doting, giant lizard.

I am not a lizard.

“But you are doting?” Violet said wryly.

Tairn’s only reply was a feeling of exasperation.

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It’s Tairn who saves her from her would-be assassins.

His voice that rings through her dreams and wakes her just in time to avoid the sword meant for her neck. His quick thinking and sharp senses that help her prevail against her attackers and gain the upper hand.

And, later, it will be he who burns her last assassin without hesitation or mercy.

I will not lose another. He tells her afterwards.

She doesn’t have to ask who he means.

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“Stop fussing.”

I am not fussing. Tairn growled. I am irritated that my human will not listen to reason.

“Your human is fine.”

You are not fine.

They’d been having this argument all day. Ever since Violet had awoken in agony Tairn had made his displeasure with her stubborn refusal to rest all too clear. He’d spent the better part of the day mentally harassing her over her life decisions as she went from class to class.

“Can we please not do this?” Violet sighed. Gods, she was tired. She’d barely slept what with the pain waking her up far too early. The sun hadn’t even been up yet. “I’m exhausted enough as it is.”

Which is why you should be resting.

Arguing with Tairn was often akin to punching a brick wall. Pointless, and left one questioning why they’d even bothered in the first place.

Your ridiculous human classes can wait. Go to sleep. Now. His voice rolled through her head with the sort of authority that demanded complete obedience. Violet shivered.

“…Fine. But not because you said so.” She groused, not wanting to admit defeat.

Whatever you say Silver One.

She went to bed.

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Violet learns many things about her dragon.

Some of them surprising.

Like just how much he loves when she strokes his scales and scratches under his great chin like an indolent cat.

Or how in the winter he will hover over her like a mother hen, pressing close to warm her with the heat of his body.

Or the way he fusses over her constantly. He is so very protective, her dragon. Always concerned with her safety. Her well-being.

He cares.

He cares so much.

Sometimes, in her guiltiest moments, she thinks he even cares for her more than her own family.

And in her even guiltier moments, she thinks perhaps she feels the same.

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The realization didn’t happen all at once.

Violet wasn’t an idiot. The signs had always been there. In hindsight, she had probably always known she had felt this way but had refused to linger on it lest she give it form. A name.

Like infatuation.

Or love.

Whatever it was, it was wildly inappropriate. Unnatural. Wrong. Whenever these thoughts or feelings surfaced she’d hastily stuff them back down out of shame and embarrassment.

Why did she feel this way? Was there something wrong with her?

Probably, she thought to herself once, thinking about the way Tairn would loom protectively over her on the flight field, snapping at anyone who dared venture too close. The way he, this giant, powerful creature that could crush her like an ant, would lower his head to let her (and only her) stroke the scales on his nose. The way his rumbling, assertive voice would ring through her head and make her heart beat faster. He, at once, made her feel powerful and protected. Cherished and supported.

No one else had ever made her feel that way. Not even her family. Not even her father.

Of course all of these thoughts were only ones she let herself linger on when she was sure the subject in question had already gone to sleep. Better he didn’t know the depths of the depravity she indulged in during the darkest parts of the night. He didn’t need to know his rider was a degenerate who was more attracted to the sound of his voice in her head than any man she’d ever fucked.

The mere thought he might find out made her break out into a cold sweat. What would happen if he found out? It’s not like they could break the bond and he could find a new, less fucked up rider. Violet supposed he could just kill her out of disgust. Had dragons ever done that to their riders?

Well, there was a first time for everything.

Needless to say, she’d gotten very good at her mental shielding.

He could never know.

Never.

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Things finally came to a head when her signet manifested.

Violet tried to think straight, she really did, but she was just so…worked up. Her power skittered under her skin like the very lightning she could now call upon. It made her restless, jittery…

Reckless.

And when she’d gone down to the local tavern to celebrate with her friends, well, who was she to turn down the advances of some random infantryman? It had been so very long since she’d gotten to blow off some steam. Certainly long before she’d ever bonded with Tairn. Before she’d crossed the parapet even.

She wished she could’ve said she remembered the boy’s name but…well.

He might as well have been a glorified living doll for the way that she used him. A doll whose dick she made use of to rid herself of that creeping restlessness crawling under her skin. Poor whatever his name was. Perhaps she should’ve felt guilty for so blatantly taking advantage of him, but he seemed so happy about his predicament that she didn’t let herself feel too bad.

Besides, wasn’t it basically expected of her to sleep her way through the ranks? She was only doing what everyone else expected of her. Expected of all of them.

Now If only she could focus on the human being underneath her and not…others things.

Like how riding this infantryman was so very similar to riding something else…like the heat of Tairn’s body beneath hers. Or the smoothness of his scales against her palms. Or the shocking sensation of a dive mid-flight.

And with thoughts of riding Tairn came more, like his (rightly earned) arrogance. His ever looming presence in her mind, always there to aid or comfort her. His deep, rumbling voice that always felt like it vibrated through her bones.

Violet couldn’t help the way her breath quickened as her thoughts took a decidedly…intimate turn. Pleasure skittered up her spine as the boy underneath her was almost entirely forgotten.

When she came, it was with with her dragon’s name echoing in her mind.

Tairn!

Before she had time to realize her mistake, the all too familiar specter of her dragon’s mind slipped right past her wards and nudged curiously at her own.

Silver One?

She knew he had seen too much even before she managed to slam her shields closed. She felt his surprise. His confusion.

Suddenly her orgasm made her feel dirty. As if she had done something wrong. Something shameful. And why shouldn’t she feel that way? She’d orgasmed while thinking of her dragon! And in a decidedly un-platonic sort of way.

Gods, what was wrong with her?

She didn’t even have the wherewithal to bid the infantryman goodbye before she was pulling on her clothes and storming out of the room he had rented for the night.

Gods…what was she supposed to do now?

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She didn’t speak to him for days.

Silver One…

Her shields meant nothing to him. Every time she tried to put them up, he’d slip past them as if there were made of smoke. So she’d just resorted to ignoring him.

Which, unsurprisingly, was a very hard thing to do when a giant lizard lived inside one’s head.

You can’t avoid me forever. Flight Maneuvers are today.

Shit. Fuck. He was right.

Only a couple hours later, she found herself walking out onto the flight field as if she were trudging to her own execution. Tairn loomed large over every other dragon on the field, those golden eyes riveted to her.

She braced herself for what he would say…but nothing came.

Violet stared up at him warily.

Waiting.

He only lowered himself further to the ground so she could climb up and into place. As if this were just another flight lesson. As if nothing unusual had occurred just a few days before.

He was quiet for the rest of Flight Maneuvers.

She would’ve thought, after all the constant nagging and mental harassment that he’d be the same here (worse even). But instead there was an ominous silence from her dragon as they flew through the sky. They touched. They moved as one. But they said nothing.

It probably should’ve clued her in to what would happen next.

As soon as they landed Violet was ready to dismount and put as much distance between she and her dragon as humanly possible. However, just as her boots hit solid ground, he spoke.

Enough of this.

The finality of the words was all the warning she got before a very large scaled leg blocked her escape. A couple other riders cast nervous, confused glances their way, but otherwise kept walking back towards the school as their dragons took off into the sky…leaving her alone with her own dragon for the first time in days.

Fuck.

He’d planned this.

You left me no other choice. Tairn agreed unrepentantly.

“I’m going to be late for dinner,” she said loudly, as if there were anyone else here to hear her but the obnoxiously large dragon holding her captive.

You can eat once we’ve spoken.

Panic crawled up her spine and into her throat, choking her.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This was it. He was going to eat her. Maybe even tell her what a freak she was first. Somehow she was more terrified of the latter.

Stop that, Tairn growled. I am not going to eat you. In fact, I am insulted that you would think so little of me. I only eat those who deserve it.

And I don’t?

No. His reply was swift and vicious. Angry. Listen to me Silver One. I chose you for your bravery. Because you had the heart of a dragon…but you are not being brave now. You are being a coward.

“I’m not a coward!” Violet snapped aloud. It wasn’t like anyone else was here to witness her humiliation anyway.

What else do you call avoiding speaking to me out of fear? Out of shame? Dragons do not feel shame.

“But I’m not a dragon!”

Aren’t you? You behaved more like a dragon than those pathetic humans who attacked Andarna.

“That was different-”

It was not. I have seen much of humanity in my time and few have ever risked themselves to save a creature who looks nothing like them. You are a rarity even amongst your fellow riders. So why then should you care what your fellow man thinks? You are above them.

I’m not though, she thought. How could she be above her fellow man when there was something so clearly aberrant about her?

Tairn huffed in frustration.

Tell me, Silver One, do you think just any dragon bonds with a human?

“What does that have to do with this?”

Everything. The bond between dragon and rider is closer than any other. Closer than kin. Closer than mates. We live your lives. We hear your thoughts. We mourn your loss like the death of our own hatchling. It is the sweetest of loves. And the most painful of tragedies. Not just any dragon is willing to live such a life. Just as not just any human is willing to live it alongside them. It takes a very particular kind of dragon and a very particular kind of human to consent to that sort of partnership.

“So, what, we’re all freaks then?” Violet scowled. She was behaving like a cornered animal. In many ways, she was a cornered animal. She would rather cross the parapet again a hundred times than have this conversation.

Freaks who love too deeply perhaps, Tairn agreed, refusing to take the bait. Those who wish to share themselves in whole with another. Share their hopes. Their fears. Even their desires.

That last word made Violet’s stomach squirm and gooseflesh break out over her arms. Oh gods. He really was going to go there.

I see you Violet Sorrengail. I see every piece of you. Even the parts you don’t wish for me to see. And I accept them. I love them. So do not insult me by being ashamed of them.

“But it’s wrong,” she whispered.

And who decided that? You?

“No, but-”

I thought we agreed that you are above other humans. Their opinions are of no concern to me. To us.

“Why are you so fucking calm about this?!” She finally snapped.

Why wouldn’t I be? Dragons care little for human morals. We do as we like. You would do well to follow our example.

It was clear she wasn’t going to win this argument. Tairn was as stubborn as he was patient. And for some bizarre reason he seemed completely unconcerned over the fact that she’d fucked a man while thinking about him. Sexually. If anything, he seemed more upset over the fact that she’d been avoiding him. If he were human he would be the one avoiding her.

But I am not human. Tairn said patiently. I never will be. And I refuse to turn away from you when you show me your true self.

Violet went silent.

What could she say to that? ‘You’re wrong’? ‘You’re being a lot more understanding about this than even my own family would’?

The sun was beginning to set. She hadn’t lied before. Dinner really would be served soon. She should’ve gone back inside ages ago, but here she was stuck outside, arguing with her behemoth of a dragon about the morality of her being…attracted to him? In love with him?

“I just don’t…I don’t understand why you’re okay with this.”

You don’t need to. You just need to know that I am.

He said it like it was so simple. And, perhaps, for him it was.

She sighed. “Okay.” She was so tired.

Go rest. He nudged her towards the school as if he hadn’t been holding her hostage for the past hour. We will speak more later.

“Okay,” she said again, and left.

He didn’t take back to the sky until she was safely ensconced back within the college walls.

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He didn’t push.

She didn’t bring it up either.

They fell so easily back into the routine of life at Basgiath that one could almost believe that their conversation from before had just…never happened.

But it had though.

And Violet couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How could she not? It wasn’t every day that a rider had weird fantasies abut their dragon and then discovered that said dragon was…fine with it? Possibly even reciprocated???

She could hardly keep her head on straight in her lessons.

“Are you alright?” Rhiannon whispered to her in Battle Brief. It had only been two days since her confrontation with Tairn but even her best friend could tell that something was…off.

“Oh, you know,” Violet said cagily. “A lot on my mind…”

Tairn snorted.

Quiet you, she hissed.

Rhiannon dropped the subject, but Violet knew for a fact that this wasn’t the end of it. Just a reprieve until she could properly corner her somewhere private.

Great.

It is no business of hers, Tairn rumbled dismissively.

Sure, but that’s not how friendship works.

This is the problem with you humans. He countered. You’re too nosey.

And you aren’t? Violet said, amused.

You are mine. She is not.

She shivered.

“Right…” she murmured under her breath.

“What was that?” Rhiannon asked, brows pinched together.

“Nothing.”

They turned back to class.

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Something occurred to her later.

This has happened before.

Yes. Tairn confirmed, as if that weren’t world-shattering information to just casually drop in her lap.

Her mind spun. When…how?!

You seem to be laboring under the impression that you are unique. He said, almost amused. I assure you, you are not.

But…how have I never heard of this?!

Because it is no one’s business but that of a dragon and their rider. He dismissed. And, considering how you reacted before, is it any wonder you humans wouldn’t speak of such things to one another?

He had a point.

But…it has happened?

Yes.

And…is that…would you…she couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

Yes.

Violet felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Like her nerve endings had been set aflame.

“…Oh,” she said. And then, again, “Oh.”

Tairn just laughed at her.

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No matter what she did, she couldn’t get it out of her head.

Fucking.

And Tairn.

Obviously he couldn’t fuck her. The idea was beyond laughable. She barely came up to his ankle. For all she knew his dick was the same size as her.

Tairn, because of course he was always listening, seemed to find her thoughts amusing.

Two.

“What?”

I have two.

The answer was so unexpected that she nearly crashed into her bedroom door on the way out of her room.

The rest of her day she could barely concentrate on anything, his words ringing through her head on an endless loop.

“But we can’t actually…do anything…” she finally whispered to him late into the night.

Not in the usual ways, no. Tairn agreed almost immediately. Violet tried not to feel a twinge of disappointment at that. But that does not mean we cannot enjoy each other’s company.

Her face flamed bright red. She knew exactly what he meant, recalling her disastrous tryst with that faceless infantryman. How she had thought, not of him, but of Tairn as she came.

I will hide nothing from you, he said gently. Just so long as you hide nothing from me.

“It…it wouldn’t be weird?” Her voice was so quiet. Terrified someone else would hear her.

We have had this conversation already. I will not repeat myself.

“Okay…okay.”

She didn’t do anything that night. Nor the night after that. Nor even that week. But, as always, Tairn made the decision for her.

She had just lain down for the night after a particularly exhausting day, when she felt it.

Arousal.

And not her own. Instead she felt a pulsing heat across the bond followed by flashes of blue scales and the foreign feeling of sinking into something tight and hot.

Violet stopped breathing.

Tairn was…he was…oh.

Watch. He said. Feel.

And gods help her, she did.

She saw through his eyes, the fierce female who writhed underneath him. She felt the hot, slick slide of her body as he made a home inside of her. She smelled the taste of sulfur and pheromones on the air.

Her breathing sped up. She was hot. Feverish. His pleasure was her own. Heating her skin and making her shiver. Her fingers were already dipping down into her underthings before she could stop herself.

At the first brush of her fingers against her clit, she heard Tairn snarl in her head.

Yes!

He wasn’t touching her…but he might as well have been.

Her fingers circled the slippery flesh at the cleft of her as she watched her dragon fuck his companion with a ferocity and domination that left her warm and wanting.

They came together. His roar ringing through her head as his pleasure raced through her veins like fire. Satisfaction, fierce and amoral, rushed to her brain.

Good. She heard him say, his voice almost a purr. Very good.

She slept like the dead.

[enbyleighlines]

I don’t think anyone wants this, but I have all these ideas for an a/b/o au for Tellius and by Ashera I need to write them down

Btw I do not intend to write a full fic for this, but then again, I have said that before and failed miserably. Anywho, all the details are under the cut

Be aware that this is an a/b/o au, and some of the below stuff gets kinda nsfw, as is usual for the genre

- It would primarily focus on Soren. Soren and Pelleas are the twin heirs of Ashnard and Almedha

- There’s no Lehran’s Medallion

- Soren is an omega and Pelleas a beta. This is a problem for Ashnard, who believes in alpha supremacy, and refuses to pass his crown to a beta or an omega

- Ashnard wants to believe that Pelleas is just a late bloomer, and that he has yet to present as an alpha. However, every year, it seems less and less likely

- Male omegas and female alphas are very rare. They are also the only ones whose presentation can be discovered from birth, due to their genitalia. Male omegas possess penises, vaginas, and ovaries, whereas female alphas possess penises, testes, and a vagina. Male alphas and female omegas present at some point in adolescence or early adulthood

- At some point, Ashnard tries to set Soren up with Petrine, an alpha, because she’s also Branded and he thinks her offspring might be strong enough to be his heir

- Soren and Petrine find the idea equally repugnant, so nothing happens

- Greil and Elena still live in Daein, Greil is still one of the Four Riders, and Ike is slowly but surely following in his father’s footsteps

- However, Ike is supposedly a beta, despite his superior size and strength, he has yet to present, and while Greil and Ike don’t care, Ashnard mostly ignores him, because he only values the strength of alphas

- Soren is mostly left to his own devices, due to the fact that Ashnard has no use for him— at least not yet. If Pelleas fails to present, then Ashnard expects Soren to provide a strong alpha heir. Because Ashnard isn’t interested in him, Soren spends a lot of his time disguised as a no-name servant. He works with Greil and Ike sometimes, trying to investigate and undermine his father’s various malicious schemes

- While in disguise, Soren also goes to great lengths to mask his scent, so he can be mistaken for a beta

- When a mission goes horribly wrong, Soren ends up sweating so hard that his scent suppressant wears off and his omega scent tiggers Ike’s first rut, which means Ike finally presents as an alpha at the age of 20

- Soren, to his own chagrin, is somewhat of a mama’s boy. His relationship with Almedha is complicated. She is overbearing and clingy, and Soren can’t stand being smothered. At the same time, however, he is super protective of her, and hates anyone that speaks poorly of her. Ever since losing her laguz powers, Almedha is a bit of a laughing stock, ignored by Ashnard and ridiculed by the rest of Daein. Soren cannot help but empathize with her, since he is also treated poorly due being an omega and Branded

- Pelleas isn’t Branded, plus there was a possibility that he might be an alpha, so he was the favorite of Ashnard growing up. However, Pelleas has quickly fallen out of Ashnard’s favor, due to his weak personality. Pelleas still wants to impress Ashnard, though, which leaves him with some complicated daddy issues

- Pelleas’s relationship with Almedha is far less complicated. He is also a mama’s boy, like in canon, and unlike Soren, he’s not ashamed of it

- I also want to add some Pelleas/Micaiah romance somehow, but I’m not sure how

- Micaiah is the Apostle, and the omega Empress of Begnion, and I want Pelleas to become her consort

- Elincia would also be an omega, and maybe at one point, Ashnard floats her as a possible spouse for Pelleas, but since Pelleas isn’t presenting, nothing comes of it. I can see them becoming friends, though

- After Ike presents as an alpha, Soren feels conflicted, because it means that Ashnard would approve of him as a potential husband, but on the flip side, Soren isn’t convinced that Ike returns his feelings, and he’s too afraid to ask. Yes, this is despite the fact that it was Soren’s scent that finally triggered Ike’s presentation

Anyway, that’s all my thoughts for the moment. I have no actual plot in mind. I would also like to include Ranulf and the rest of the Greil Mercs somehow, but I don’t yet know how.

[acceleracers-baby]

Acceleracers HC’s! Game Night! Teku Edition!

Teku

(Nolo Pasaro, Vert Wheeler, Shirako Takamoto, Kurt Wylde & Karma Eiss)

+Bonus Round

(Brian Kadeem & Banjee Castillo)

Teku

Nolo Pasaro - Growing up, Nolo had a pack of Bicycle brand playing cards and a dream. Now, he can run a whole game night with nothing but that same pack of cards. In fact, he does it regularly. Poker, Rummy, War, you name it. He knows the rules like the back of his hand. His all time favorite however, is Spoons. No matter who’s playing, it always gets absurdly intense. He loves watching everyone scramble to snatch a spoon when a suit of four is thrown down. The Teku are definitely intense, but it only gets worse when the rivalry between them and the Metal Maniac turns friendly, and they start getting invited to join. On the other hand, watching Mark practically throw himself over the table in an effort to snatch a spoon before his brother could grab one has got to be one of the funniest things he’s ever witnessed.

Very Wheeler - Skate 3 connoisseur. Vert fucking LOVES Pictionary. Like I don’t know to explain to y’all how hard this dude laughs watching people’s interpretations of what the original prompt was devolve into sometimes completely unrelated or ridiculous. Vert has even taken to throwing in some of his own prompts just to mix the game up a bit. For example- “Worlds Greatest Driver” was a prompt that Kurt got to start with. Obviously, he drew a stick figure version of himself. Mark was right after him, so seeing the shitty stick version of his brother, he just wrote down “bastard.” It devolved further from there. Another fun one was when Banjee got the prompt “Fast & Furious” and forgot that the movies existed, so he just drew Taro under the pretense that he fit description.

Shirako Takamoto - Shirako is a master at Mario Party. It’s gotten to the point where it’s basically everyone vs. Shirako whenever they play. He’s just too good at all the mini games. They will actively try and sabotage him and it doesn’t even matter, he’ll still end the game with the most stars collected. He has the strats!!! On top of that, he’s also unusually good at Scrabble for some reason. People assume it has something to do with all the music he listens to, but really he just plays it online all the time, so when game night rolls around he just destroys everyone. Vert lost his mind when Shirako played the word “quixotic” once. He was convinced Shirako was just making up words for high scores, but lo and behold, they looked it up and it’s a legal word to play!

Kurt Wylde - King of pit maneuvering people off the track ironically enjoys the game Sorry. The joy he feels booting someone back to the start is only matched by the excitement he feels during a race. He literally is such a rude bastard (lovingly). He is 100% the type of player to always boot the same person back to start just to mess with them. In his mind, less competition means a better chance at winning. Uno is a very close second. He will legit sit on those +2 & +4 cards and just wait to ruin someone’s day. “Oh you’re about to call uno? Go ahead and pick up the whole deck.” Like Vert, he also takes some liberties with those ‘make your own rule’ cards. They’re always so targeted too. Stuff like ‘let Monkey drive your car or pick up 25 cards’ and ‘get Taro to talk for more than 5 minutes or swap a hands with who’s losing.”

Karma Eiss - Battleship baby!! She is the queen of strategy games especially when it comes to stuff that involves reading people. Like, by the time someone hits one of her ships, she’s usually got half their fleet wiped out. People have tells. The closer she is to whoever she’s playing with, the faster the game goes. Particularly with people who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Vert and Nolo are the easiest to beat by far. Vert always tries to laugh or talk about something else when Karma hits close to one of his ships and Nolo over compensates. Kurt’s a little harder to beat because he’s got a pretty good poker face, but Shirako is definitely the hardest. Due to him constantly just vibing, he’s nearly impossible to read.

Bonus Round

Brian Kadeem - Kadeem’s a big Jenga guy. It’s so simple, yet so fun. His favorite part is when the tower is getting ridiculous tall and precarious so anytime anyone reachers for a block everyone goes silent and tense, watching to see if they’ll be next person to knock it down. It helps that Kadeem has impressively steady hands too. Like, this dude could have been a doctor if he really wanted to. Twister comes in at a close second. I feel like Kadeem is pretty flexible so the game is more entertaining than it is challenging. He loves being the one to spin the wheel because it gives him time to cackle at his friends getting all twisted up. Seriously, halfway through the game when everyone’s practically stacked on top of each other, Kadeem is usually laughing so hard that he’s on the ground with them.

Banjee Castillo - Banjee is the literal king of Mario Cart. He loves it so much he will unironically put on the Coconut Mall theme song sometimes while he’s driving. He swears it makes him go faster. It definitely doesn’t, but don’t tell him that. Banjee always knows the best cart combos and where all the best short cuts are. He usually finishes WAY ahead of all the other drivers, which always leads to some light hearted banter about how he should be as good as he is in the game on the actual track. Sometimes, he will purposely hang back or false start so that way he can use items to mess with the other players. Red shells are the best but after hours of gameplay, Banjee has gotten deadly accurate with the green shells too. Nobody is safe.

——— Thanks for Reading! ———

[fleurelinathehybrid]

💛[Chapter 7: A being on the way]💛

Going to a pharmacy in the waking world was extremely easy both to say and to do. If it weren't for a small but insignificant inconvenience. It would sound absolutely ridiculous for a "man" to order a pregnancy test for himself.

—Are you sure about this, Death? —asked the King of Nightmares, very nervous.

—You just trust me, I'll buy the test by pretending that I'm the one who needs it. You will just accompany me and that's it.

They both entered the small pharmacy located somewhere in the U.K., so that no one would notice their presence other than the person in charge of the establishment. The place was simple, not only did they have medicines and health things, they also had groceries and sweets (something that Morpheus simply did not understand). Death couldn't resist and grabbed a pack of jelly beans that were on a shelf, earning a poker look from her goth little brother.

—What? These are my favorites. —she said with joy, receiving an annoyed roll of his eyes from Morpheus.

Immediately, they found themselves in the hallway where everything related to contraceptives, feminine pads, tampons, condoms, fertility pills and, what they had come for, pregnancy tests appeared.

There were many brands and many styles, which made Dream nervous. Which one should he take? Which would give the concrete results? Both questions were brutally resolved with one simple action from Death: take a test of each brand.

— What are you doing?! —he exclaimed, without realizing that the pharmacy clerk was looking at them strangely.

—Just humor me. —his sister whispered to him.

Already with some pregnancy tests in their arms, both brothers went to the cash register. The saleswoman, a stout, disheveled woman with curly, ashy hair, attended to them. If they were both a little more observant, they would realize that she looked a bit like her little sister Despair. The difference was in height, Despair was shorter than that woman.

—Will You buy all this? —the woman asked in surprise, receiving a nod from Death.

—I need to check if I'm pregnant to surprise my boyfriend. —she responds smiling.

The shop assistant looks at Dream, doubtful. —Then he is your…

—Brother. The baby's future uncle. —she responds happily, ignoring that Dream almost murdered her with his gaze.

Still in doubt, the clerk begins recording the cost of the pregnancy tests. Death had his bag of jelly beans and hid them in the pocket of Dream's black jacket. He only scolded Death with his eyes and agreed to hide her sweets. You may think that Death was the more responsible sister, but sometimes she got her way.

—It's 150 pence.

Death, without thinking, materialized a sterling and 50 pence note in her hand and paid the shop assistant, who placed the evidence in a plastic bag and accepted the money.

As soon as that little torture was over, both siblings sneaked down an alley to open a portal to the Dreaming. It didn't take them long to reach the palace or the bathroom. Immediately, Death emptied the test bag and started with a test whose cost was cheaper. Dream sat on the toilet as if he were a woman about to urinate, placed the test and peed on it.

As soon as he finished, he did the same procedure with another test.

And with another test. And with another. And with another. And with another.

When he finished them all, he waited with his sister for the results of each one to be released. Death got on her knees until she was level with her brother, who was still sitting on the toilet, but with his pants on.

5 minutes passed, the tests took effect. They all already had the results. Dream, because he was very nervous, asks Death to see what the evidence says. She takes them all with both hands, to better see each result.

Death's sad face worries Dream. It seems like she already know the answer, but he have to see it with his own eyes.

—Dream, sorry.

Death shows the results of all tests. They all gave signals like "+", "P", "II" and "green".

Morpheus's face had never turned so pale in his existence.

Now everything was at stake.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 17

Masterlist

Series masterlist

Part 16 🍂 Part 18

Pairing: Syverson x ofc

Series summary: Life with Sy, what more can you wish for? The most amazing husband and father to a whole litter of cute little kids... Sometimes you wonder "how did you get here?"

Chapter warnings: None, unless you consider tooth-rotting fluff a warning? There's probably some swearing.... Oh, and we're going through more remodeling. That deserves a warning.

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: When your girl's day is not the it and you have another chapter linied up 😘 @keanureevesisbae enjoy some domestic bliss w/ your man. (I owe up to and including 20, jsyk)

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @omgkatinka @summersong69 @diegos-butt @beck07990 @peaches1958 @pandaxnienke

“I’m not entirely sure how me insulting the very core of his being ended in you two moving in together, but I’m happy it did.” Jules had spent a very long time that morning groveling, until you had finally decided it was enough. Sy had actually been more than happy to let her off the hook, but that just didn’t fly with you. Then again, Jules and Patrick were helping Sy move his stuff from the company warehouse to your place, which made up for whatever you felt she still needed to make up for. The boys were still on their way with the big stuff, which meant you and Jules had found some time for tea.

“You don’t think this is a ridiculous idea?” Despite being fairly sure that Sy was the love of your life, you still wondered if four months wasn’t too soon to take such a drastic step. You were entirely confident you’d never forgive yourself if you fucked this up for good.

Jules thought about that for a moment.

“No,” she said, “I think it’s a good idea. I handpicked this one for you, Lara.” You couldn’t deny that. Besides, even you were a long ways past pretending she hadn’t made a damn fine choice.

The guys finally arrived, and as it turned out, you and Jules could continue your lovely little tea party, because you were no use at all when it came to lifting couches. The dark leather of Sy’s vintage chesterfields went nicely with the deep blue you’d settled on for the wall behind the fireplace. It was cozy, but the large windows in the back wall prevented it from becoming too dark altogether. Jules looked around with an approving smile on her face as you watched the men move the sofa around – and occasionally gave instructions. You smiled. Jules telling the boys where to put things in your house was very on brand for her. It was also a good thing she was giving the exact instructions you would have, so you didn’t have to interrupt her.

The past week with Sy had been absolutely amazing. Most of it had been filled with making plans for the house, which included finally moving your bedroom upstairs…

“We could take my bed? It’s bigger,” Sy had suggested when you were going over the furniture you had between the two of you. It was true, but you had still found it unnecessary at first. He’d had to point out to you roughly seventy times that he hadn’t known you would only be sleeping in your new bed for around two months before the two of you would move in together – and honestly, if he had known, you wouldn’t have believed him if he had told you that from the beginning.

“We sleep on the same ninety centimeters,” you had said, “sorry, that’s…”

Sy finished your sentence before you could even start to do the math: “Three feet.” You had shrugged, assuming he was right – probably more so than you would have been, anyway. You had also secretly hoped that he would drop the subject, but he didn’t. In the end, you hadn’t been able to make any kind of a solid case against a bigger bed. The only problem was that it would be far too big for the room that was currently your bedroom. Sy’s suggestion had been to make your shared bedroom and the en-suite bathroom the next projects around the house, which you had agreed to. It would be nice to have a modern bathroom, not the provisionally repaired and still slightly disgusting – the kind that didn’t go away from cleaning – wreck you had been living with until now.

Luckily, Sy hadn’t been needed at work the entire week, and your bedroom had been blessed with painted walls and a floor that wasn’t beyond depressing.

“The floor looks amazing, Sy,” you had said as you walked into the room for the first time – carefully, because you were fairly sure Sy would have had your head if you had scratched it on day one.

“Are you sayin’ that ‘cause you think I wanna hear it, Sugar?” he’d asked with an impossibly big grin on his face. You had confirmed his suspicion when you rolled your eyes– you couldn’t really muster up more enthusiasm about a goddamn floor. That being said, you had definitely had to admit it looked better than before. It looked like it hadn’t been dead and buried underneath ugly carpet for God knows how long.

“Well, you’d be right, I do wanna hear it. Sandin’ the sumbitch down damn near cost me my back.” Of course, you had immediately offered to take care of that with a massage, knowing full well there was no way either of you would ever have been able to keep your hands off the other.  

The past days had been filled with disagreements on the colors of rugs, curtains, and paint. Moving in together meant a little bit of a clash between Sy’s taste for more dark and intense colors, and your preference for more neutral tones and a more feminine touch. Sy won your little squabble about the color of the bedroom – although black wasn’t technically a color – and now you were seriously considering giving him the green light to go dark for the bathroom as well, because you actually really liked the cozy feeling the dark walls gave you. Of course you made the mistake of telling him that, which made him slightly more arrogant than was useful when trying to negotiate other things, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like your man a lot cocky and a little bossy at times.

When it came to the furnishing of the bedroom, Sy felt it was absolutely necessary to badger you with the same old subject you’d said no to a million times; what to do with his TV. Or rather; what to do with your TV, since his was – once again – bigger, and therefore it made sense to put that one in the living room.

“Absolutely not, Sy,” you said for the millionth time that week, while cleaning the kitchen. Suddenly, an arm appeared on either side of you and he had you pinned in place against the counter.

“Why not, Sugar?” He sounded pouty. Why did he sound pouty? It didn’t suit him. It was cute, though – at least it could be, when you weren’t already on edge about having to clean your entire house several times a day because remodeling just did that.  

“Because, Sy, we don’t need a TV in our bedroom,” you said. Every time you found yourself using the words ‘our bedroom’, you got butterflies in your stomach. Right now, it was highly inconvenient, because you were trying to sound serious.

“But…” That was it. You turned around between his arms, which was difficult, because he held you against the counter pretty tightly, and looked up at him.

“Jonathan George Syverson, if you want your dick sucked in that bedroom, ever again, you’ll listen to me. There will be no TV in our bedroom.” You made sure to carefully emphasize every last word in that sentence. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am, abundantly.” End of discussion.

[matrixaffiliate]

Details

New Story! FFN and AO3

It's always been in the details with James.

A little Jily fluff for my dear friend @tumbledfreckles I love you darling and hope you have an amazing day!

Details

She watched him from her perch on the counter. His hazel eyes studied the jar's ingredients from behind his black rimmed glasses. He blew his fringe off the top of the frames and she smiled as it landed right back where it had been.

"I guess this is technically the same as the brand I thought you'd buy."

"You guess?"

James sighed. "Fine, the ingredients are identical, but…"

"But?" Lily pressed when James fell silent.

"It's nothing." He turned back to the stove.

Lily hopped off the counter and turned off the burner.

"What's wrong? I didn't think using a different brand of raspberry jam would be a big deal."

James shook his head and moved to the kitchen sink.

"I'm being ridiculous, Lils. Honestly, just ignore me."

Lily's blood boiled.

"I will do no such thing, you over dramatic lump! Now look at me and tell me what in the world is going on."

James stared down at the drain. His shoulders tensed and his hands gripped the counter on either side of the sink.

"James?" Lily moved to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Evans-"

"It's Potter." She cut him off. "Has been for a few months now."

James chuckled. "I still have a hard time believing that sometimes."

"Don't change the subject. Why are you so upset about me buying a different brand of jam?"

"It doesn't matter, love."

"It matters to me; now tell me what's going on."

"It's not the raspberry jam Dad always bought." James' head dropped.

Lily's heart broke.

"Oh, James."

"I know, I know, it doesn't matter-"

"Come on." Lily pulled James away from the counter. "The market isn't closed, and we still have a few hours before Sirius and Marlene will be here."

"No, no I need to let it go."

"James, I will drag you out of this house by your shirt collar if you don't come willingly."

"But dinner-"

"Will still be here for us to make when we get back. Right now you need to show me what brand of jam your dad preferred."

James looked back at the ingredients he'd already pulled out. He started to shake his head 'no' but Lily cut him off again.

"No arguments, love."

She pulled his face between her hands and brought her lips to his. The ache in his heart pushed through in the details of his kiss. It was always the details with James. He took notice of every detail he could. He connected with people using details. He argued with people over details. He loved people in detail.

And when it came to missing his dead parents, James missed them in the details.

Like the right brand of raspberry jam.

"Dad bought Wilkin & Sons when he bought raspberry jam." James pulled back. "I'm sorry, I should have said before you went to the market."

Lily pressed up for another kiss, trying to pull some sadness from him.

"Come with me to buy it. It'll help."

James slid his hand along her waist. "You think so?"

"I know so." Lily stepped into him. "And if we hurry, we might even have time for other things before Sirius and Marlene get here."

A flicker of light hit James' eyes and Lily smirked up at him.

"It wouldn't hurt to try, I suppose." His smile still held a sadness to it, but he was smiling, a detail Lily didn't miss.

She didn't let him think twice. Lily had them out the door in under a minute and back at the market. The right brand in hand, James' smile lacked the sadness it had in their flat. Nostalgia painted his face as he rubbed his fingers over the label. His eyes told stories of this raspberry jam over hot scones and when it was made into a sauce for decadent puddings.

"Thank you." He murmured as they waited to pay.

Lily squeezed his arm. "Of course."

James looked around at the few people near them and leant close to her ear.

"Do you think there's still time for-" He kissed the shell of her ear. "Those other things you mentioned?"

"Keep that sort of thing up and we'll make time." Lily breathed and tried not to melt into a puddle on the floor in the market.

"I'll do just that then." He whispered as his fingers teased along the hem of her shirt.

Lily was shocked they made it back home before they made time for those other things.

It was all in the details with James. The light calluses on his fingers brushing against her skin, teasing, caressing, holding, gripping. The touch of his lips, tasting, savoring, feasting on the delicacy he found her to be. The rumble of his voice in his chest, her name it's continual reprise.

"We need to get dinner started." James nuzzled her neck.

"Do we have to?" Lily tangled her fingers deeper into his hair.

"Unless you want to listen to Sirius whine about how hungry he is when he gets here, yes."

"Alright." Lily groaned and pulled her hands from his hair.

"Hey." James kissed her again, a gentle and slow slide that pulled every ounce of breath out of her. "Thank you for helping me."

Lily pulled him back down to her, taking his breath to fill her lungs.

"You're welcome." She whispered.

It was always in the details with James, and Lily found herself grateful to be in the details with him.

[roalinda]

omg heaven sounds so good,,,,pls!!

Heaven was supposed to be a one-shot. It was not supposed to have any world building or going into any details about the deathly Hallows or Sirius nursing a nearly ruined corpse from grave back on his feet.

It was NOT supposed to be multi-chaptered.

But the indulgence hit me in the face...HARD.

I am currently on a trip with no access to my laptop which has Heaven drafts in it, but I have this small snippet on my mobile ♡

****

Sirius remembered many useless things. 

He remembered the endearing echo of James' giggly laugh which was exclusively Sirius' behind closed doors and the suggestive way liquid honey danced in the hazel of his sparkling eyes as he took off his glasses to climb on top of him, hot and demanding, ready to surrender.

He remembered James' wedding day and Lily's wobbling lips with shiny tear drops on her wet eyelashes about to fall and ruin her delicate mascara at any moment as she begged him not to leave James' life just because she had entered it because given the ultimate choice, James would choose Sirius and they both knew it. It had been then and there that Sirius approved of Lily, not because she wanted him into her marriage indirectly, but because she loved James enough to not to be selfish and care about his happiness despite her own heartache. 

He remembered the desperate way James kissed him every time they met when he was in hiding, all teeth and tongue and blood, filled with wild madness and unhinged desire and unconditional love as if it was the last time, as if Sirius' brightness was a torturous burn on his skin, one that he was willing to turn his body into a plain canvas for, to brand himself like a broken map of bruised skin as long as his lover was there for him to hold onto in the abyss of that horrific prophecy.

Remembrance was a curse when one had a photographic memory. It was like a constant heart attack, a disease in the head, a pain with no cure. Nothing helped. Alcohol? Painkillers? Potions? They were useless when memories of James hit, sometimes vivid and colorful, sometimes fanciful fragments of his absent imagination. 

That was his mental routine until now.

'Never disturb the dead. They don't belong with us, Sirius.'

Walburga's voice hit him, soft yet flat. Sirius could remember the frown on his mother's elegant features like it was yesterday. He used to be the apple of her eyes, her beloved boy who always outshone Regulus no matter how much he tried to not to. She used to say that it was his destiny, his role to burn bright. After all he was named after the brightest star of the sky. She used to read him The tales of Beedle the Bard on cool autumn nights at times, her grey eyes - so much like Sirius' - shining like liquid silver. He loved the story of the three brothers and she kept reading it to him countless times yet always wary for some unknown reason. 

"Remember Sirius, never disturb the dead." She used to say softly with a strange feverish twinkle in her eyes. "They don't belong with us. Never break the calm in their world. Let them rest in peace." That was probably the kindest advice that Walburga Black had bestowed on anyone. 

His grandfather Arcturus always warned him of the same thing, as if he was going to run and turn into a full time necromancer. "Always remember what happened to the second brother Sirius. Love is a noble reason but the dead are just rotten bodies under a pile of soil. Stay away from them for their whispers can put the most seductive sirens to shame. Love is nothing but a fickle emotion." 

All those warnings meant nothing to Sirius, not now. Not when he knew there was no rest for James, that he couldn't pass on in peace. He couldn't help but to ache in despair. It was so wrong of him to stage this macabre theatre of death in his brain. Still, he was the playwright. What he needed were cast and equipment. 

The irony was ridiculous in a bitter way. It was as if both Walburga and Arcturus were seers, already aware of his dark twisted future. Then again, they were Blacks. Only a Black could empathize with another Black. Once love and grief took over a Black's psyche, there was no in between, either a vortex of emotions swallowed them whole or they iced their hearts, moving forward without looking back. 

Sirius was not embarrassed to admit that after James, his heart was seared and scarred. It was as disfigured as his burned face on the family's ancestral tapestry. His heart was nothing but a cemetery with a lost love's grave. He had nothing to lose. 

[fizzingwizard]

weird (tmi warning)

so I often bitch about how much I hate shaving. well, when I was a teen, living at home with my parents, and didn't have a boyfriend, and wasn't going out, I used to go without shaving my legs whenever I could. usually thats because I was wearing long pants most of the time, but in the summer i might be wearing shorts only at home, where only family members would see me.

all I was trying to do was not shave because I hated it so much and got such awful razor burn, and also I was like still a kid and had a very limited income from my part time job, which I was saving to go to Japan. so i didn't spend on random products to help with shaving that I didn't even know whether or not they'd work. I just didn't want to be itchy all the time, and I thought my family, at least, wouldn't mind me being a little hairy. I mean my mom shaved but not everywhere >_> and my dad being a man of course didn't but also he very often walked around completely naked except for his briefs. was it really ridiculous of me to think that if my dad could strut around the house in his underwear no problemo, i could be a little hairy sometimes?

anyway on my last phone call with my dad, I don't remember how we got on the topic but I mentioned shaving and my dad was shocked to find out that I shave regularly. I was like yeah dad I've been doing it since I was thirteen. "but you didn't all the time" "no dad because shaving sucks and if no one was gonna see me i didn't do it" and he said "I thought you were doing that rebellious European feminist thing, you know, they like to go full body har"

9_9

I'm unreasonably annoyed by the this x'D for like twenty years my dad has thought I express my feminism through refusing to shave. (a position btw he doesn't respect) never did it occur to him to ask me. or that shaving just sucks. this is doubly funny bc when my mom taught me how to shave (remember I was 13) she told me to use my dad's razor. (which is probably pretty weird but thats what happened) and then I just... never had my own razor x'D until I went to college. so i was shaving with my dad's razor all through my teen years, and my dad still didn't think I was shaving??? he thought i was intentionally choosing to look like a yeti, at like fifteen, because I was such a radical feminist. that is hilarious because if anything describes me at fifteen, it'd be conservative. I was still pretty entrenched in evangelical christianity back then. and i'd been taught by church, and specifically by my dad, that feminism was just whiny and full of lies. if he said he thought i was being a European feminist lol when I was like twenty-five, that'd be different, but at fifteen? bahahaha.

and then more recently. i don't remember what it was but some video on youtube I think, someone was talking about rejecting make-up as a form of feminism, resisting the patriarchy and all that. and of course I know about that, same as I do know about women who choose not to shave for feminist reasons. but because of the conversation with my dad I'm now wondering. are people looking at me and thinking she doesn't wear makeup because she's an extreme feminist? she goes to protests and flashes her boobs while shrieking into a megaphone? looooool. I don't wear makeup because I hate the feeling of having stuff caked on my face, I hate having to take it off, I hate having to pay for it, I hate having to try a hundred different brands just to find something that kind of occasionally works on me. I'm fine with my face. It's not an amazingly beautiful face. but it's mine. i have no problems with it. other people might but i'm not being some super feminist by not caring about it, i just don't actually care.

that being said I am feminist and will defend anyone's right to shave or not shave, wear makeup or not wear makeup. just like maybe ask people before you leap to conclusions. its so weird that everything i do has to be some kind of statement. i just don't like wearing makeup or shaving, that is it, there's no deeper meaning to it lmao