#some of my answers fizzled out there at the end because i knocked over my coke while i was working on this

[earthtooz]

𝟐:𝟎𝟑 𝐀𝐌

fluff, hints at a fight that happened so minimal hurt/comfort, sooo much swearing, ooc rin bc he's so hard to write wtf he has a personality of an apple but i love him <3

it’s 2 am.

it’s 2 am and someone is knocking on your door like a madman.

you were simply trying to catch some shut eye, exhausted from a day of grieving and almost breaking down into tears on several occasions. the accumulation of a shitty day, a stressful deadline, and the massive fight you had with your boyfriend, itoshi rin, two days ago, really committed to keeping your day melancholic at best. sleep was everything you needed right now, both for its regenerative and escapist purposes.

yet again, you really cannot catch a break from the spite of the universe because it is out of rage that you find yourself walking towards your front door; an anger that dissipates when you see who it is on the other side.

1/3 of the reason why your day sucked. your painfully beautiful boyfriend.

the argument you had with rin was left open-ended on whether the relationship should continue or not. to you, it seemed as though both parties were at different opinions, with you wanting to maintain what you had. after two days of not responding to your texts, you suppose that that had been a short way of answering the ambiguity.

willingly, although reluctantly, you open the door, preparing to end something that you were not ready to let go.

he’s sweaty and he’s panting. did he run up the stairs or something, why is he so puffed? how is he so pretty despite that?

“hey,” you begin, feeling small in his presence. rin bores through you with his teal eyes, not saying anything. you cringe at the silence.

“i appreciate the effort but y’know, if you wanted to make our breakup official couldn’t you have done it at a reasonable hour, rin?”

his eyes narrow at that statement, betraying his usually stoic expression with furrowed brows and an agape mouth. confused. he’s confused, but you don’t see any of it because you find the floor more interesting than your boyfriend (?).

with a deep inhale, you just decide to go for it. if he’s not going to declare it, then you will. “look, rin, maybe you’re right, if this relationship is holding you back then maybe it is best we-“

“-the olive theory.”

“excuse me?”

the first words this man utters to you after two days… is the olive theory?

the dark-haired continues. “the olive theory, we’re- we’re supposed to be compatible.”

you are way over your head right now. did you even wake up? is this a dream? why is your, usually all-straight-talk, boyfriend talking to you about the olive theory at 2am, stammering whilst doing so? what kind of hallucination is this?

“rin, what?”

“i like olives, you hate them, we’re meant to work, and i don’t think i can continue on like this.”

you blink once, twice, three times before pointing at him. “you’re telling me that we’re compatible, yet in the same sentence, telling me that we should break up?”

"i didn’t want to break up?”

“but you just said you can’t continue on like this, what else do you mean?” your voice is at a hushed whisper at best, and although you wanted to raise it louder, you fear that your neighbours would not be happy.

“i meant that i can’t continue on without you!”

silence.

“i’ve become so co-dependent on you that i fucking hate it. i can’t fucking function without you, even that fuckhead isagi knows that i’m off and it’s all because of you. it’s only been two fucking days and i’m not landing 60% of my goals, i’m not receiving 20% of my passes correctly, and i keep tripping over myself, you’re ruining me, y/n.”

the flurry of emotions within you triples, and you’re so flabbergasted that no words can escape your mouth. truthfully, you can't think straight, but if you could, the words would fizzle out in your throat before they even saw the light of day.

“if i have to suffer any more of this stupid silence between us then i might kill a bitch. that bitch being the antennae freak.”

even more silence, and rin is practically begging you with his gaze to say something. funnily enough, the next thing you murmur is out of reflex: “don’t say that about shidou.”

he groans. “if i didn’t love you, i would choke you right now.” wow, itoshi rin has a way with words.

the threat causes you to crack a smile. “well, good thing you love me,” you mutter whilst grabbing him by the wrists to pull him inside your apartment. “and it’s a good thing i love you too.”

“well no shit, we’ve been in a relationship for-“

“-shut up and kiss me, you smooth talker.”

the soccer player smirks in amusement before leaning forward, closing the physical and metaphorical space between you, soothing the heartache with gentle touches and a fervent need to love one another.

༊* BONUS:

“why are you here at 2 am? i thought you, of all people, would be fast asleep.”

“tried to, can’t sleep without you- you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

you smile fondly as he hooks an arm around you waist, collapsing into you as a way of saying that he doesn’t mean his rough words. “so i’m just another bedwarmer?” you ask teasingly.

he grumbles a ‘tch’, digging his nose into your nape. “you’re an idiot.”

“thank you, love. speaking of bedwarming, can we go to sleep?” perfectly paired with a yawn, rin looks at you with slight guilt in his eyes before dragging you down the memorised path to your bedroom.

once there, he wastes little time in dragging you into the sanctuary of your bed, and you let out a sigh of content when rin turns off the lights and pulls the covers up. instinctively, your hands retreat to his hair, carding through them.

he’s holding you close, hands resting protectively around your waist.

“we have a lot to talk about in the morning, but did you not get any of my texts?”

“you texted?”

“…yeah?”

“oh yeah, i remember now that i blocked you after our fight.”

you mercilessly smother him with your pillow.

[starship-squidlet]

APPARENTLY I NEVER DID THIS??? I’M SO SORRY!!! (I saved it to my drafts to remember to do it and never remembered to do it cos I’m a disaster but I wanted to do it so I’m doing it now)

Anyways, three months late, here’s my answers xD

1. What fandom(s) did you join this year?

Newsies!!! It’s honestly the fandom I’ve taken part in the most in my entire life—I jumped straight in here with both feet and didn’t bother to pinch my nose or anything, so it was all in right away, and I’m not at all sorry xD Everyone I’ve met in the Newsies fandom has been absolutely wonderful, and I adore you all so much!

Also, Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, to a much lesser extent—I read a lot of fic for it, watched the movie at least once every day for over a month straight, and even planned fic for it that I never wrote! (fun fact: this IS where Elaine and Alan came from! They were originally OCs for the fics I planned for this, one of which was a modern one where they were all performers putting on Newsies, and then they wound up making the transition from Robin Hood to Newsies lol)

2. What fandom(s) did you leave?

I honestly don’t think I’ve ever really “left” a fandom, because it’s not so much me going “I’m not going to do this anymore” but rather “I’m not currently interested in this thing at the moment, because that’s how I as a person function, but I’ll probably be back at some point.”

3. What fandom(s) from the past did you return to?

Writing for/watching/interacting with Hunter X Hunter in any way is always a blast from the past, as it was one of my first fandoms—the first fanfics I wrote were for HxH, waaay back when I was like 12-14, and I watched the original 1999 anime before the reboot was ever announced. And I also started getting back into Stargate at the end of the year (although that may have been pretty much in January)!

4. What show/book/movie/etc. was your escape/comfort this year?

Definitely Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, but also Newsies, and also Hunter x Hunter and My Hero Academia. And I can’t forget the LOTR and Hobbit movies, since that’s basically all the media I consumed through the last few weeks of December when I was having a slightly troubling time 😅

5. What creative work are you most proud of?

Literally anything and everything to do with New Music/my Newsies 50s AU. I’ve poured so much into that, and I’m so glad that at least a few people enjoy it!!! I promise I’ll get back into working on it sometime soon (hopefully)

6. Did you have any new ships this year?

Uhhh everything related to Newsies? xD Nothing hardcore, even within Newsies—like, no new OTPs or anything.

7. Which character did you relate to the most this year?

Besides OCs/DnD characters? Probably Crutchie. It’s always nice to find some chronic pain representation in media, so I connected with that a lot lol.

8. What quote really sums up how you’re feeling at this point?

I’m so bad at coming up with quotes, so I can’t think of anything xD How about “exposed live wiring is a kink?” which is still my favorite line I’ve ever written, especially out of context.

9. Recommend something that you really enjoyed in 2020.

Fire Force! It’s a new-ish (I think) anime with only a few seasons so far, but it’s really good! It’s about these firefighters in a post-apocalyptic sort of world which has been basically ripped apart by spontaneous human combustion (honestly, they say that phrase SO OFTEN in the dub that I literally cannot think the words “fire force” without also thinking “spontaneous human combustion”) and they’ve had to reevaluate their whole way of life. I’m not generally one for post-apocalyptic scenarios, but this is one of the few exceptions I’ll make to that!

10. Share something that you learned in 2020.

Friends are there even when you can’t see them.

11. Name a fellow fan who you really appreciated this year.

Ughhh there’s so MANY!!! But, for a few: @cutesiewooren @the-cowbi @fifty-for-the-racer @sour-picklee and so many more of the wonderful people who I met through Newsies. I love you all!

12. Share your wishes for your fellow fans in the next year.

No more plagues!!!

13. What do you want to do less of next year?

Procrastinate (I’m trying, I really am! I think I’m getting a little better about it... Even though technically I’m doing this to procrastinate working on a blanket I’m making...)

14. What do you want to do more of next year?

Writing!!! I have so many ideas, and I’m really determined to get lots of them out onto paper this year, even if I never post them! I’ll probably post (at least most of) them, though xD

15. What are you looking forward to coming out in 2021?

Hm, I can’t think of anything specific... But I’m sure there will be lots of great stuff to discover this year, new and old!!!

Thanks so much for the tag, Anne! I’m sorry it took me so long to respond, but I’m really thankful for the tag, cos this was a lot of fun!!!

(I’m not going to tag anyone cos I’m three months late to this, but if any of y’all want to do it, go for it!!!)

end of 2020 fandom asks

What fandom(s) did you join this year?

What fandom(s) did you leave?

What fandom(s) from the past did you return to?

What show/book/movie etc. was your comfort and/or escape this year?

What creative work are you most proud of (your own or someone else’s)?

Did you have any new ships this year?

Which character did you relate to most this year?

What quote really sums up how you’re feeling at this point?

Recommend something that you really enjoyed in 2020.

Share something you learned in 2020.

Name a fellow fan who you really appreciated this year.

Share your wishes for your fellow fans in the new year.

What do you want to do less of next year?

What do you want to do more of next year?

What are you looking forward to coming out in 2021?

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (happy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé, and blink and you’ll miss it implied smut Word Count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST | Alternate Version/Ending of Cold Feet

NOTE: When @meganskane announced her 700 follower celebration I just knew this idea would be the perfect way to implement one of the prompts she gave! The one I chose is “quit looking at me like that” ❤

Also! Fun fact: this song opens with “they’re all set to go on the 18th of June”, and that’s today, so it’s festive 😊)

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Dying to kiss him and put on his ring. So why is she walking alone after midnight, Down a small town street, with cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still feels the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again— a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancée walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancée helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancée. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance.

He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancée's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancée's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancée doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

James never was.

Y/N burrows herself further into Spencer's body and plants a gentle kiss to his neck, shivering slightly at the way his curly locks tickle her temple.

He stops humming and laughs. "What are you feeling for breakfast?"

"Hmmm... You." She articulates her point by selfishly kissing his neck, reminiscent of Cookie Monster.

Pretty soon, the two of them are laughing together, limbs tangling and breaths mingling, and then an hour and a half later they're in the kitchen, sipping on coffee.

As its warmth radiates through her throat and chest, Y/N studies him from across the room. He flips through pages of a book as he drinks his coffee, and for a brief moment, his eyes flick up to see her staring.

The action brings a smile to both their faces, and Y/N has never felt happier.

She's never felt more loved.

***

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[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.3

Pt. 1    Pt.2   Pt. 3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, smut in this chapter, unprotected sex, (some dom/sub themes, cunnilingus, squirting, slight breeding/impreg language, creampie, cumplay), some fluffiness follows the smut, secret relationship, angst

a/n: Part 3! This is the smut chapter. This is one of the longer ones. I hope this is meeting everyones expectations from what the first chapter had given off. Very excited to share the rest. As always requests/asks are open! :)

Word count. 3.7K

You were awakened with a light knock on the other side of Loki’s chamber door. You kept your eyes closed not wanting to have to face any conflict fresh out of sleep. Remaining in your same position you heard Thor’s voice informing Loki to feel free to make his way to the dining hall. You kept still, wanting to hear the entire conversation without any disruptions or derailings of what was meant to be said. 

“Who's the young lady between your legs, brother?”

“One I’m thinking of marrying. The only issue is her parents' blessing, something she’s yet to ask. The right time’s on the horizon, but not quite within reach.” 

“Have you spoken to father about it?”

“I have the feeling that waiting until the last moment will work best for me. A bit of chaos if you will.”

Thor chuckled

“You never change, brother.”

“Why alter something that needs not fixing?”

“That bridge is yours to cross and I will be there for you when it happens. Regardless, food will be waiting for you and your lady when you're ready to come out.”

Loki nodded his head in acknowledgment and Thor left the room. With the door closing, you stretched and turned around to face Loki. 

“So, you plan on making me your wife?”

“You were awake?!”

“I had stirred awake when your brother knocked on the door. I wasn’t faking it the whole time. Although I’ll admit, it’s nice to know you’re in this fully.”

You stood up and moved to sit in Loki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Well, since you eavesdropped in on the conversation, are you up to eat?”

You answered, hesitantly,

“Yes...if you’re in it fully and an offer of marriage is in the near future, the least I can do to convey my undying fidelity is to be shared with you in public. I’m ready for it all.”

Standing up, you stepped to the side to let Loki up and lead the way. Once out of his quarters you walked beside him through the corridors of the palace he called home. Arriving in the dining hall to your surprise and relief everyone had already left. The two of you to be left alone. Life felt unusually at ease, anxiety was free from your bones and you had a gut feeling that at least while you were here everything would play out in your favor. It was more than comforting and for once in quite some time you were finally able to eat. A little more than you expected honestly. You hadn’t realized how much you had been depriving yourself of necessary nutrients because eating was the last thing on your mind. Everything had been cluttered for the past year. 

It wasn’t until recently that your appetite began to fizzle out. You knew you’d eventually be okay but one meal a day would eventually catch up to you. And right now it was showing.

“Hungry?”

Suddenly aware of your surroundings and Loki’s raised eyebrow you were faced with how much you had actually gone through while being stuck in your head. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look like a pig did I?”

You shrunk, your shoulders making a poor attempt at hiding your embarrassed face.

“No, Y/N, you did not. Simply wondering how you put it all away.”

You paused wondering whether or not you should expose yourself. Relationships were all about transparency, right? 

“I haven’t been eating all that much lately. The mental has affected the physical especially within my own home and I finally felt comfortable within these walls and I completely forgot my manners. My apologies.”

“I never said to stop. Indulge till your heart and well, stomach’s content Y/N. This will be your home, thus you may behave however you see fit. There’s no need for change.”

Looking at Loki through your brow you saw that he meant what he said. The expression on his face silently communicating sincerity to you. Your embarrassment faded and was replaced with affirmation. 

Finishing in the hall you and Loki walked back into his quarters. Night had fallen over the sky completely and the hallways of the palace looked more familiar to you now. Entering his room you walked past the bed and went straight for the balcony. You looked up towards the sky, looking for the answer to all your questions to be written in the stars. You failed to hear the footsteps behind you and only became aware of Loki’s presence when his arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulders.

“You know, the stars aren’t going to give you the answers with any more ease. Believe me, I’ve tried. You just have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I know I just...I just wish it would be easier. I wish we had the freedoms of the cosmos, being able to travel through the entire mass of space without thought of what's to come next.”

You turned around, resting your back against the railing. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you looked up at Loki. The moonlight was bright and full, casting a white shadow across his features. You were unsure of what to do with your hands so you just placed them by your sides and admired Loki for a little while longer. A small smile subconsciously formed on your face and it wasn't until Loki reached for your hands did the haze in your eyes fade.  

“If only you knew the chaos I’d bring upon worlds. If only you knew the hells I’d race through, the agony I’d suffer with if it meant you by my side...it would seem that freedom is already had, my darling.” 

“Loki, I-

“-No matter the circumstance, you will be by my side. Whatever the battle is you must face with your parents, I swear to you, you will not bear the burden alone. If you were to, then what would I be here for?”

Your hand squeezed around his own and before you got a chance to respond to him, Loki’s hand slipped from your own and tilted your chin up. Staring into your eyes before capturing you into a searing kiss. It felt warm, comfortable, and fueled by fiery passion all at once. You removed your hand from his and wrapped your arms around his neck, weaving your fingers into his hair. Loki’s hands traveled to your waist but didn’t stay long before they traveled further down and firmly grasped your ass in his hand. The action causing an airy moan to slip from you and tug on his hair tighter eliciting a similar response from him. He slipped away from your lips, smirk all too telling of what was to come next 

“Coming alive now that the moon is out? You’re like my own personal bloodsucker.”

You playfully hit his shoulder 

“Loki..” 

“What it’s true darling. You really do, come...alive at night. It’s not a problem though, I quite enjoy seeing you shed the layers you wear while the sun shines.”

Emphasizing his point he squeezed your ass again and tapped under signaling to you to jump. Wrapping your legs around his slender waist, he turned you around and walked back into his bedroom. 

“Now that you are in your element, I take it it's time for that prize you spoke of so arrogantly earlier.”

Your eyes widened realizing what you had just signed yourself up for. Loki placed you gently down on his bed and crawled over to face you directly. 

“Unfortunately...for you at least, your choice in waiting will leave you in desperate need of a pillow to keep you from waking anyone important up.” 

“You’re so snarky, what if I desire to control this evening, hmm?”

“It will be a dream short-lived my love. You and I both know you have a debilitating tendency to fall weak under my touch. It’s irresistible to you.”

Tangling your leg underneath Loki’s, you flipped yourself over so that you were now on top of him. Desperate in having at least one moment to relish in dominance over him. Situating yourself you ground yourself into his now growing arousal. Planting your hands on his chest you brought yourself forward, leaning down into his ear and rolling your hips into his once more causing him to hiss through his teeth. Licking a stripe up from his neck to his ear you ended your trail with a light nibble on his lobe. In your last-ditch effort of a display of power, you whispered in his ear,

“Don’t be dense, you and I both know you enjoy it with much fervor being like this.”

And just like that, your moment of fame was something of the past. Before you could even register that your moment was gone, Loki was already on top of you, and the dress that once adorned your soft skin was being torn down the middle, exposing your body to him.

“Loki!-”

“-My love, there was no room left for teasing. We already established that did we not? Now, to remind you of your place, I’m going to make sure you never forget it or this night we’re sharing.”

Loki snaked down your body, his hands resting on your hips bones while he nudged your sex with his nose. Squirming your way into a submissive role, you rolled your hips down in need of any type of friction. 

“Y/N, unlike some people in the room, I fully intend on giving you what you yearn for. You just have to find the willpower of patience within you. Remember I don’t like teasing.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did right th-”

Your sentence was cut short cuz Loki had licked a tender stripe between your folds. Sending passion electric through your body. Your head lulled back into the bed fully engaged in Loki’s ministrations to your most sensitive of areas. Losing yourself in the moment you failed to notice Loki’s hands traveling up your sides and resting on your pert nipples. Rolling them between his fingers, your fingers clutched the sheets beneath you, needing something to brace yourself on. 

“Shit~ Loki, you're so good! Oh my god, don’t stop, I’m so close!”

Lifting his head up slightly you felt the change in atmosphere waiting for his smart remark to leave his lips.

“You said that with a lowercase g right?”

A little extra air left your nose signaling your light amusement to his statement. Only to follow it with a roll of your eyes still amazed by Loki’s narcissism even in such an intimate moment. The lightness in the air didn’t last long for Loki continued his attack on your cunt without warning. Smirking against your folds, he spoke

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Unless you’re seeking punishment this evening.” 

“Fuck Loki!”

His tongue was something otherworldly, finding all your sweet spots and using it to his advantage. He rolled your nipple once more and this time added a lithe finger inside your dripping heat curling it just right to become acquainted with the cute little spongy spot within you. Your hands found refuge in his black locks, rolling your hips into his face feeling your release begin to peak over the precipice. 

“Loki, please don’t stop! I’m so close, I’m gonna cum. Please, Please Loki let me cum.”

A reinvigorated fire was now fueling Loki to help you reach your bliss and with a swift back and forth motion on your now swollen clit your orgasm washed over you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Your back arched and your thighs clamped around Loki’s head being completely overwhelmed with your climax. As your orgasm subsided you brought yourself to your elbows getting ready to return the favor to your lover. But he had other plans.

Grabbing your hips, Loki slid you down the bed closer to him and placed his mouth on your sensitive mound once more.

“Holy shit! Loki, stop, I'm so sensitive.”

Looking up at your through hooded lids, he cocked one eyebrow and questioned

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“I-uhh”

Flattening his tongue against your sex your response was lost in thin air replaced with a cry of pleasure. Loki entered another finger into your fluttering cunt and was determined on bringing you to a second rapture which was not difficult considering the aftershocks of your first one were still running through you. You felt the heat pool in your lower stomach and you began to feel the pressure build somewhere lower. For a split second, you became worried about what was going to happen next and you attempted to push Loki away from you not wanting to lose control, but his other arm kept you in place. 

“Loki, please I can’t handle it. Please!”

You weren’t quite sure what it was you were begging for. It definitely wasn’t for him to stop because you were so close but rather to save the embarrassment of what was to come. Unable to ward off your orgasm any longer, Loki’s finger made one final motion and your second orgasm was even stronger than the first. Ruining your vision and making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Darling...remind me from now on to never let you writhe out of my ministries.”

Trying to calm down your heavy breathing you looked down at Loki only to be met with the sight of beads of your orgasm trail down his face and your juices glistening on his chin. The sheets beneath you beginning to turn a little cold. 

“Loki, oh my-”

Climbing up over your body, he hovered over your face. Somehow while lost in your own euphoria Loki’s shirt was discarded somewhere in the room and you were all but distracted by his toned physique.

“Don’t even think about an apology. Seeing you lose yourself in me like that was more than satisfying and this was just an extra luxury that you allowed me to enjoy.”

He emphasized his point by rubbing his fingers through your weeping pussy causing your body to jerk due to the sensitivity and Loki just smiled at you. Moaning you trailed your hand down to the pronounced tent in Loki’s pants. 

“I can’t wait any longer Loki. I need you inside of me. Please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper becoming insatiable with Loki above you. Fidgeting with the button on his pants, it didn’t take you long to have them unfastened, and slipped your hand into his pants, palming his length. Loki dropped his head into the crook of your neck, a low growl escaping his throat. Helping Loki push the fabric down the rest of his legs he positioned himself in between your hips lining himself up with your entrance. Looking up at you, you noticed there was a certain softness swimming in his eyes. 

“Y/N, you are so beautiful. Truly you are the most entrancing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m more than favored to be able to call you mine.”

“Loki, I~oh fuck”

The recurring theme of your sentences being lost in translation continued when Loki prodded his tip at your entrance causing you to suck in a breath of sheer pleasure. 

“Don’t tease me, please. Just fill me up Loki, I feel so empty without you.”

A moan and an airy chuckle left Loki’s lips before he fully sheathed himself within your tight core.

“Darling, no matter how many times I have marred your womb you still remain tight as ever. Gods you feel divine.”

Moving at a slow yet devastating pace Loki’s cock was kissing your cervix and sweet spot with every single thrust. Your core clenching around him created a resistance that was licentious and overwhelming for the both of you. Loki pulled himself almost all the way out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt causing a loud high pitched moan to flee from your chords.

“Shit! Loki, do that again.”

Loki repeated the action and your back arched from the bed and your nails dug into his back racking down the length of it. This new pace and pattern of movement were moving you quickly to your third release of the evening.

“You like that Y/N. Like how my cock can make you feel like no one else can. I’m going to make sure that your insides become so familiar with my shape that nothing else will be able to satisfy you.”

Picking up his pace slightly, Loki was still slamming deep inside you. Your eyes were no longer able to stay open while lost in all the pleasure that was tingling your entire body. Quickly though that thought would be eradicated from your mind as Loki’s hand came up to your face squishing your cheeks together forcing your lips to pout.

“Look at me while I fuck you Y/N. I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. I want you to watch as I fill you with my seed, claiming you as mine forever.”

You and Loki had never let him finish inside of you and the idea of him filling you with his seed and becoming swollen with his kid had you squeezing around him tighter than you ever had. Your moans picked up in frequency and you moved your hand up to his neck bringing his face down to your so that you could share a kiss while the both of you were approaching your highs. Loki’s hand snaked down to your core and began lightly rubbing on your clit. The last bit of stimulation fully brings you to the peak of your approaching high.

“Loki, fuck. I’m going to cum. Please don’t stop. Please please please!”

Loki brought his forehead down to rest on yours. A sticky layer of sweat was evident on both your faces. His thrusts became more erratic signaling he hadn’t much time left in him before his high. 

“I love you, Y/N. More than you could fathom. And I~ahh”

This affirmation took you by surprise. You and Loki had a strong partnership and you knew that you loved each other mutually but you both had never said it out loud before. Not only did this warm your heart but it also pushed you over your threshold and your climax. Washing over you for the third time that evening. Your fluttering core cutting off Loki’s admirations for you and also sending him over his escarpment. 

“I love you too Loki, so much. I~ah fuck you feel so good still.”

Keeping your foreheads still pressed together, you stayed like that until your breathing mellowed out. Waiting for the right moment to speak again. Pulling out of you Loki watched as his seed was spilling out of you due to the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Now look at that. This is something I could get used to seeing. But more importantly, I want to ensure that your womb takes all of me.”

Taking his nimble fingers, Loki was gently pushing back his cum inside of your cunt. You were so sensitive that each time his fingers grazed your now wrecked hole, your body reacted with a quick shake and the tightening of your stomach. Your eyes kept halfway rolling into the back of your head, the overstimulation turning into something of immense ecstasy. 

“Come up here Loki.”

Sliding his way up towards the head of the bed where you were, you nestled into his chest. His skin still tacky with sweat, your bodies melding together like human puzzle pieces. Your hand was drawing mindlessly on his chest and eventually found its way to his face where you were thumbing his cheek. 

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what- of course, I did. Y/N you know that lying to you is something I find absurd. And of the few things, I refuse to lie about, intimacy is one of them. Do not fill yourself with unnecessary doubt.”

Turning his face to yours you shared another kiss with him. Tender and full of passion you were silently telling him that you understood and that the feelings were reciprocated. Pulling away from you he sat up.

“Perhaps we should run ourselves a bath. Clean ourselves up before we grow too tired to think about anything else.”

Sighing you pushed yourself up to sit upright on the bed. Lightly nodding Loki stood from the bed and was waiting for you before moving any further. You looked up at him with pleading eyes

“Carry me?”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue he begrudgingly picked you up bridal style and walked you to the bathroom of his quarters.

“You are incongruous.”

“Perhaps I am, but for us, it works.”

Setting you down on the edge of the tub Loki began drawing the bath. Steam rising up from the heat of the water. You knew it would sting on the way in but the initial burn would morph into relaxation and ease your now tense muscles. Reaching for the soap on the corner of the bath closest to you, you walked over shakily to the spout of water so that bubbles would form before the two of you got in. 

Once the water hit an appropriate height Loki helped you in, already aware of the weakness in your legs. Settling in behind you he began washing you down with one of the many washrags in the bathroom.

“You know, we’re going to have to get this out in the open a lot sooner than we were planning. Especially if you are to have my child.”

“I know. I was thinking about that. Give my silence. Let us wait till morning to run through our thoughts about how to go about this. I want to enjoy this moment with you without the worry of what’s to come next.” 

“Understood my love.”

With Loki having the last word, the two of you shared amorous silence while relaxing in the tub. Enjoying each other’s company, the silence between the two of you was necessary to think about what was going to happen next in the chaos of your life. Finishing up in the bath, you two dried off and headed off to bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you drifted off to sleep rather quickly. Your body exhausted from the night's affairs. Not knowing that this would be the last night you recognized what peace could ever look like.

[emachinescat]

Mama Bear

A Tales of Arcadia Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat @whumptober2021 day 3 - Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... ("who did this to you?")

Summary: After Jim’s fight with Draal, his mom sees his bruises, and Mama Bear is unleashed. Post-Win, Lose, or Draal.

Whumpee: Jim

Words: 2,603

Note: This fic was inspired by what Barbara said in 1x13 about Jim coming home from school covered in bruises. As is my way, I took the idea and ran with it.

TW: none

Barbara Lake had always considered herself incredibly lucky that her son turned out as well as he did. It wasn’t her own doing, she was sure of that – she always did the best she could, but being a single mom meant she’d had to work extra shifts to support her small family and never felt like she was there enough.

No, Jim was just a really good kid.

Not many moms could boast that their sixteen-year-old son could cook better than they could, let alone that they made gourmet lunches and dinners (and breakfasts, on most weekends), not just willingly, but happily. And not many moms could brag that their sixteen-year-old son did the dishes or kept the house clean or put aside his own wants and dreams to take care of his overworked mother. Who got up early to leave flowers on their bedside table after a long night at work, or who tucked them in after they fell asleep on top of the covers, still in their scrubs, because they’d been too exhausted to do anything else.

Barbara tried not to brag too much about Jim. She knew that he did have a social life of his own, and as far as she could tell, he was fairly well liked at school and she didn’t want to embarrass him if any of his friends found out just how much he doted on his mother. But sometimes she couldn’t help it, and she’d find herself rambling to her beautician or the nurses at the hospital or sometimes even a long-suffering patient about how her son was one-of-a-kind. He didn’t get into trouble at school, didn’t fight, didn’t skip school, and almost never missed curfew.

Until one day, he did.

It wasn’t even like it was a gradual change. There was no slow fade. She didn’t watch him slowly descend into bad grades or late nights or midnight calls about museum break-ins. There were no signs. He went to bed one day, the same as ever, and then suddenly he was getting into trouble at school, getting into fist fights, missing curfew, breaking into museums in the dead of night. Not only that but his grades – which had always been slightly higher than average – had plummeted, and he’d developed dark circles under his eyes like he never slept and sometimes he moved around like he was an eighty-year-old man and though his good nature and kind heart remained, it seemed strained at times. He still did sweet things for her, but not as often.

At first, she’d thought he was burning the proverbial candle at both ends and his lack of sleep was taking a toll on his mental and physical health. As a doctor, she’d seen firsthand what lack of sleep could do to a person. Their entire personality would change, or fizzle out, and their judgment would be severely impaired.

But then she’d seen the bruises and her sleep-loss theory flew out of the window.

***

Two weeks ago

Barbara thought boundaries and independence were a valuable part of a child’s development, so she always knocked before she entered Jim’s room. Of course, if he were gone, she wouldn’t bother.

On this particular day – one of her rare days off – she was sure he wasn’t home. She hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t seen his bike propped up against the side of the house or in the garage. The container of store-bought chocolate chip cookies (she had neither the time nor skill to bake them herself) she’d left out for him hadn’t been touched. For all appearances, Jim hadn’t gotten home from school yet.

And so, she didn’t knock as she approached his bedroom door with a laundry basket propped on her hip. Jim always did his own laundry, but she’d seen how tired and overworked he’d been lately and wanted to ease his burden however she could.

The sight that greeted her when she nudged open the door and flipped on the light was one that would stick with her, tattooed onto her mind’s eye, for the rest of her life.

Jim was asleep on top of his unmade bed. It looked like he’d gotten halfway undressed and then decided to forgo comfort for sleep, and lay on his stomach in only his jeans. One shoe was on, the other halfway under the bed. But what arrested her attention so violently was the great rainbow of bruises arching across his back and stretched around his side, disappearing beneath his stomach where he lay on the bed.

She couldn’t help herself. A horrified shriek escaped her, and Jim sprung up so quickly it made her head spin. The panicked look in his eyes did not escape her notice, nor did the way he made a desperate reach for his pocket, like he was trying to grab something – trying to defend himself? When he saw who was in his room, and that they were alone, and that there was no danger, the raw fear faded, though a hint of panic remained.

“Mom!” he squawked, crossing his arms across his chest like that would be enough to hide the dizzying array of green, purple, yellow, and black that blanketed his chest. She noticed with surprise the lean muscles of his arms. Jim had always been fit, but never strong. He’d never said anything about a gym and he’d never been serious about sports, but she filed this information away for later and focused on the problem at hand.

Her stomach twisted as her doctor’s eyes traveled slowly, deliberately down her son’s bare torso. The bruises were worse on his stomach and chest, something she hadn’t thought possible, and she realized with horror that some of them were days, maybe weeks, older than others. This – whatever this was – was not an isolated incident.

Rage like she’d never felt before, like the protective energy of all mothers who had come before her collected into one finely-honed sword, pierced her soul as she came to the only conclusion that made any logical sense: Someone had done this to her son.

When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, cold as the furthest depth of the ocean, shaking with unmitigated fury.

“Who did this to you?”

Jim’s answer didn’t surprise her, but she also didn’t believe it for a second. “No one. It… was an accident.” She watched, lips crammed together in an impossibly thin line, teeth grinding against one another, her hands trembling with a righteous anger she had no outlet for, as Jim slowly reached out for the shirt he’d left in a heap at the end of the bed, the other arm still wrapped protectively around his torso. She didn’t stop him. She would absolutely be examining his injuries fully before the evening was done, but for now, she’d seen enough. The sight of her son’s bruised flesh would burn in her memory forever, more clearly than when she saw it right in front of her.

Skittishly, like a cat caught sniffing around back alley garbage cans, he snatched up the shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head. He couldn’t hide the flinch as he raised his arms to pull the fabric over his head. As he did so, she got the full view of his torso, and the wild, impossible thought flitted through her mind that it almost looked like some giant hand had wrapped around his body and squeezed. The image, however nonsensical, sent waves of nausea crashing through her. Her anger swelled again, and the crest of it burst forth, no longer containable, and the only person she could release it on was the one who was actively lying to her.

“James Lake, Jr. – do you think I’m an idiot?!”

Jim froze, his hands stilling completely as he adjusted the neck of his tee. He had never heard his mother direct such cold fury at anyone, let alone himself. “W-what? Of course not, Mom. I just–”

“You expect me to believe that you accidentally hurt yourself this badly? That you woke up one morning and you were covered in bruises? Jim, I’m a doctor. I see people come in for less than this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have fractured ribs.” Now the anger was giving way to panic. “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed that some bruises are newer than others. This isn’t something that just ‘happened’ and it’s not an accident. So tell me. Who – the – hell – did this to my son?”

A small, ridiculous surge of satisfaction bubbled up inside of her as she watched Jim’s mouth fall open. He’d never heard his mother utter a word stronger than darn before. She’d always been very careful about the language she used in front of him. But his condition released something feral inside of her, and it was honestly a bit of a shock that nothing stronger came out.

She watched his face, saw the conflict in his eyes, knew with even more surety that he was hiding something big from her and trying to decide if he was going to answer truthfully. Well, tough luck. He wasn’t leaving his bedroom until he answered her question.

He must have seen this in her eyes, for after a moment, he dropped his gaze. Heavily, he sat down on the foot of his bed and stared down at his hands. “Mom, I… can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

At this, the fear took center stage again, and Barbara fell to her knees in front of her son, cupping his face in her hands. The tears she’d been holding back with such determination threatened to fall at the way he unconsciously leaned into her touch. His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment he was a child again, sniffling from a scraped knee and being comforted by his mother. That moment ended all too quickly, because his scraped knee was actually a bruised and battered torso, and he wasn’t a child anymore, and he was in trouble.

“Jim. Whatever is going on, I promise, I won’t be angry. But someone is hurting you. You can’t deny that. What is happening to my son?” She tried not to speculate – dared not speculate – but so many possibilities chased themselves through her head, each one worse than the last. Bullies? Abusive teacher? Drugs?

He sat for a moment, a slumped, defeated statue with too much weight on his young shoulders – Young Atlas, Walter’s voice echoed in her mind. She saw the exact moment when he made his decision. He squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and met her eyes once more. Something brewed within those beautiful blue depths, but what it was she couldn’t say. Was it regret? Guilt? Fear?

“It really was an accident,” he finally said, voice slow and measured.

“Jim, really–!”

“I’m telling the truth, Mom!” he insisted so fervently that she was tempted to believe him. Almost.

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” she demanded. “What kind of ‘accident’–”

“A Vespa one,” Jim blurted, and his eyes flickered down to his hands in shame. “I… a friend gave me a ride on his Vespa. I was on the back and got thrown off and rolled halfway down the embankment before a tree caught me right in the ribs.”

Fresh panic wormed its way into Barbara’s mind at Jim’s confession. As horrible as it was, part of her desperately wanted to believe him. If he had been in a vehicle accident, then no one had been deliberately hurting her child. It was just his own irresponsibility and stupidity.

“When did this happen?”

A beat. Then, sheepishly, “... yesterday.”

But – “What about the older bruises, Jim? Did you get into two Vespa accidents?”

“Paintball,” Jim answered without missing a beat. “We had a whole thing a few months back. Guys versus girls. And I got hit. A lot.”

Barbara recalled clearly the size and location of the older bruises that had peeked out from underneath the fresh, reaching ones. They could have easily been from punches or kicks, but it was feasible that the bruises could have come from being shot at close-range by a paintball gun.

Deep down, something still nagged at her. But Jim’s explanation was a siren’s call and she was so tired of swimming.

“Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?” The gaze she fixed on him one would have withered a succulent.

Without hesitation, Jim answered, his voice clear, strong, and insistent. “Yes.”

Relief flooded through her, and she squashed the last remaining doubts, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “In that case, you are grounded.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “What, really? You promised you wouldn’t be angry!?”

“I’m not angry, I’m disappointed. Let’s see, you know how I feel about both paintball and those Vespas and yet you went behind my back and nearly got yourself killed. You’ve been lying to me, Jim, keeping secrets. Is this why you’ve not been sleeping? Why you’ve been so distant?” It didn’t explain why he’d been getting into more trouble than usual, but right now she would take what she could get.

The slightest of hesitations. “Yeah.”

She considered, eyes burning into him, for a long moment, then she sighed, the sound of every evil thing escaping Pandora’s box, and she clapped her hands together briskly. “Okay, come on.”

Jim cocked his head to the side. “Where are we going?”

“The hospital.”

Jim groaned. “Mom, I’m okay. I’m just bruised.”

“I’m not taking any chances, mister. You could have fractured ribs. You should have been rushed to the hospital as soon as the accident happened. Who is this friend, anyway? Why didn’t he take you to the E.R.?”

Jim scratched the side of his neck. “You wouldn’t know him,” he evaded, and Barbara made a promise to herself to revisit this point later. “And we were afraid we’d get into trouble…”

“Well, you did, kiddo. Now, get up. We’re going to the hospital, you’re getting x-rays, and then we’re getting ice cream.”

Jim blinked up at her. She wondered if he realized his arm was curled protectively around his ribs as he slowly eased himself off the bed. “Ice cream? I thought I was grounded.”

“You’re hurt, Jim, and I’m your mother. I’m not a monster.” A soft smile pulled at the corners of Jim’s mouth at her words, and not wanting him to get too comfortable, she added, “You are grounded, though. Absolutely. You’re not going anywhere after school for at least two weeks. And depending on the x-rays, you might not be leaving your bed for a while, either.”

“Mooom.”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Now, put your other shoe on. Let’s hussle. I want you looked at as soon as possible.”

What she didn’t see as she turned to leave the room was the heavy curtain of guilt being drawn over Jim’s face.

Later, she’d drive him home with a diagnosis of two cracked ribs and deep bruising across 80 percent of his torso and a bottle of muscle relaxers for the pain. They’d get ice cream and he would mope about bedrest and she would try to cheer him up (but not too much; he was still grounded, after all). But behind the pain of his injuries lurked a deeper, fierer ache that no balm could soothe, no medication could ease.

With every lie, he could feel the chasm widen between him and his mother, and it hurt more than a few broken ribs and bruises ever could.

[asscandles]

Hey thanks for clarifying before now can I have some friendship(maybe secret crush)headcanons for Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Toko with a friend(reader) thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, they are just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid they are. So basically a giant cuddly dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like they(reader)just run up to them saying they want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but they look so happy. gender neutral.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊ��ʏ ɪᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ, ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ!

ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛ 3:26 ᴀᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴋᴀʟꜰꜰᴅᴊᴋꜰᴀʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

Peko Pekoyama

“I--What are you doing?”

You stand on the counter, arms extended straight out at your sides. You continue staring ahead with an expressionless face. “I see no god up here… other than me!”

Peko sighs, and you immediately look down at her with round eyes. “Oh, but you’ll always be my queen, Peko! I want you by my side forever!”

Since Peko is always wielding/cleaning her sword, you carry around pastel-colored bandaids and a small first-aid kit in your backpack.

You’re usually by her side, so your absence is always noticed quickly, if not immediately.

You once fell asleep somewhere you shouldn’t have, leaving Peko to ravage the island, searching every nook and cranny until she finally found you curled up in a corner of the airport. All she could do was sigh and crack a tiny, relieved smile. She transfers her sword to her hands before easing you onto her back. Her heart swells when you mumble something and wrap your arms around her neck. All the way back to your cottage, she chides you quietly.

“It’s not safe to be so vulnerable out here. If you’re going to fall asleep out here, do it while I’m with you. Then, you can sleep as soundly as you want.”

M A T C H I N G  B R A C E L E T S

You excitedly gave Peko a card to celebrate the anniversary of your friendship. Peko snorted upon seeing that all of the drawings inside were either stick figures or poorly colored. But you just looked so happy… she couldn’t even bring herself to tease you about it.

You both refuse to speak of this, but one night, Peko woke up to the flickering of a faint light and feverish whispering. She had switched into attack mode in a fraction of a second, only to stop dead in her tracks. You had been standing in the middle of the room, doing the renegade by the light of your phone. You froze upon her reaction. Both of you sat there, staring at each other for a solid twelve seconds. You then proceeded to finish the dance, looking her dead in the eye. Peko may have be tired, but she’d be damned if she let you do it alone. So, she does it while standing on her bed, but clearly lacking energy and motivation.

Ambushing Peko with affection is not uncommon for you. It happens rather often, you clinging to her waist and pleading with her, “Hey, tell me that story again! You know, the one where Fuyuhiko was being held captive and you swooped in with your sword and saved the day!”

When you found out that Peko loved fluffy things, you were ecstatic. You bundled her into your cottage immediately, showing off a small collection of stuffed animals that you had managed to cram into your backpack before your arrival at the island.

Peko selects a white cat plushie as her favorite. From that point on, it is your child. No arguments.

You tend to get lost, so Peko sarcastically suggested tying a balloon to your wrist so that you would be easier to find. But, you totally caught her off guard when your eyes began to sparkle and you shouted, “Can I pick the color?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, you grab her hands and hold them close to your own chest endearingly. “Pretty please? With marshmallows and cookie crumble and whipped cream and sprinkles on top?” Peko obliges. When the balloon is finally secured around your wrist, you are absolutely fascinated by it.

You often fawn over Peko’s skills; but when you do, you use interjections and sound effects because you aren’t able to convey your excitement with just words.

Okay, but she’s actually worried about you lmao

“You have… a lot of mosquito bites. What happened?”

“What? They’re not bites! They were giving me kisses, silly!”

You’ve tried multiple times to surprise her with tickle attacks, but they never work. The only time it went according to plan, you managed to get your hands on her for exactly 0.7 seconds before she turned the tables on you.

Platonic dates? Platonic dates.

You’ve 100% made her flower crowns whose petals match the color of her eyes. 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

“So… I saw some sour candy in the supermarket. If you lend me the money, I’ll give you half of the rocks I found.” :)

“Considering the fact that you get an adrenaline rush from successfully flipping a pancake, a single piece would kill you immediately.”

Everyone who discovers you two are friends is immediately suspicious. When I say suspicious, I mean, “(Reader), whatever blackmail he’s holding over your head, you don’t have to be scared. We can take care of this together.”

But after witnessing a few of your interactions, they learn of one irrefutable fact.

The embodiment of rage and vulgarity bottled up in human skin does indeed have a weakness.

And that weakness is you.

It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to become aware of your appreciation for stickers and your tender heart. That being said, when you’re upset, he won’t object too severely when you request to smooth stickers all over him. He would prefer to keep this interaction private, but if someone does happen to catch him with giraffe stickers on his cheeks and rainbows on his jacket, then he’s going to wear them proudly, goddamnit.

And if anyone has anything rude to say about it, then I hope they can speak sign language, because all they’ll be seeing is hands.

You’re aware of his insecurities, and you can understand why he feels the way that he does. But that’s where you come in. You always seem to approach him at the right moments. 

By now, you’ve figured out that he doesn’t always need words to reassure him. It’s enough if you’re just there, ready with open arms and a glass of water. Fuyuhiko doesn’t cry often. But when he does, he ends up dehydrated more often than not.

Let’s be honest. After Fuyuhiko lost his eye, his depth perception was most likely shit. You were always at his side, one hand on his arm as you gently guided him from room to room. You watched over him.

Accidentally knocking over a drink? You were ready to wipe it up. Searching for something he lost? You were there, helping him look. Tripping or bumping into things? You were there with a first aid kit to patch him up.

You try to match his level of sass, but you’re highkey too nervous to swear and you usually stutter the last word of whatever witty comeback you manage to come up with. Fuyuhiko secretly thinks it’s adorable, and he doesn’t want you to lose that part of yourself. That’s why he always defends you when it comes to verbal beatdowns.

You once drew a face on an egg, and when Fuyuhiko questioned you about it, the only thing you could offer was a deadpan “our son.”

“What the hell--that’s an egg.”

“No! His name is Linguini and he’s our child!”

Fuyuhiko is exhausted bro.

You’ve approached him countless times, eyes glowing with awe and insisting that you need to show him something really cool. It’s usually just a rock or a piece of glass, though. He always has the urge to poke fun at you for it, but it fizzles away when he sees how utterly bewitched you are with your find.

One time, he had walked into the room to see you standing on the arms of an office swivel chair, knees bent and arms extended as you fought to maintain your balance. You seemed to be fairly steady.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from nearly falling into cardiac arrest on the spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

It had startled you, and the chair rolled out from underneath you. Fuyuhiko rushed to catch you. You both tumbled to the floor in a knot of limbs, lying there in varying degrees of pain. You were laughing. Fuyuhiko was absolutely most fucking not.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You had chirped, gesturing to the arm lodged under the small of your back to protect it.

“You little--” Fuyuhiko’s voice had been strained, but his tight-lipped grimace dissolved into a sigh at the sight of your smile. He disentangled himself from you and pressed the pad of his index finger into your forehead. Your lips formed a small “o” shape, your eyes crossing to try to keep track of his finger. “You need to be more careful from now on. I won’t always be here to catch you.”

“But, you’ll still patch me up afterward, right?” You poked his forehead back.

He huffed and pulled away from you. “To the best of my ability. But don’t push it.”

Toko Fukawa

Initially, the only reason that Toko set aside her natural distrust and suspicion of people in order to befriend you was because she thought that you were simply too innocent and simple-minded to ever think badly of a friend.

She thought that having such a sweetheart glued to her side would disperse her dubious reputation and make her seem less suspicious during class trials.

Yep… That’s the only reason she keeps you around...

Not because of the way her heart feels all fuzzy when you embrace her… Or because of how your eyes sparkle whenever she offers to let you read one of her new works… Or because of how relaxed she feels when you weave her hair into intricate braids…

Not at all…

Hahahashutuphahaha…

She often scolds you for being such a pushover when people disrespect you, but she means well. You insist that it doesn’t bother you, but she’s an expert on human emotion. She is a writer, after all. She knows that it haunts your thoughts for a while afterward, and she hates seeing you like that.

You’ve noticed that Toko bites her nails when she’s stressed, so you’ve decided to combat her habit by applying nail polish to her nails. That way, you figure, the taste of the nail polish will deter her from tearing at them with her teeth. She also has the option of picking off the nail polish, which is probably less harmful than chewing on them.

You also kinda sorta... believe that video game cheat codes work in real life, so you’re often moving around and jumping, shouting the combinations as you go.

“Right! Right! Left! Up! Left! Down! Right! X! Y! Now, confess your sins!” You command during a class trial, pointing vaguely toward the accused. Toko just quietly shushes you, dark circles rimming her eyes as she pats your head.

You’ve adopted the habit of narrating the things you do, like whispering “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle” when sliding your feet into your shoes and “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy” when slipping your charm bracelet past your hand onto your wrist. Coincidentally, Toko has also subconsciously started doing the same thing, and she cannot think of anything more irritating.

She once jokingly told you to stop being so dependent on her. You promptly flushed scarlet and snatched the box she had been carrying out of her hands, insisting that you were more than capable of taking it to storage yourself. You had marched indignantly out of the room and headed left, only for Toko to call out, “Uh, storage is the other way.”

You reappeared a moment later, now stomping in the opposite direction. “I knew that!” You huffed.

You’re aware of Genocide Jack, but you aren’t afraid. You whole-heartedly trust that your friendship is enough to outmatch Genocide Jack’s bloodlust, as naive as it may be. Your only response to Toko’s confession of having a split personality is to gift her a cherry-flavored lip balm with a bright smile. At first, Toko is confused. You explain that whenever Genocide Jack makes an appearance, their tongue is always lolling out of their mouth. You’re concerned that their lips will get dried out, and you want to do your best to prevent it.

Did Toko’s heart just burst? Maybe.

Toko shares her romance novels with you, but only the ones without sexual interactions. She believes that you’re far too pure for those. Plus, she would really not rather answer your questions about anything of that nature.

Toko is determined to preserve your purity. She’s very protective whenever someone shows the slightest bit of sexual or romantic interest in you, and has even referred to you as her baby before.

Whenever Toko gets insecure or anxious and covers her face with her hands, you gently remove them from her face with a soft giggle of “Peekaboo!” Toko doesn’t fight you as you carefully pull her into your arms and rest her head against your chest. In fact, she finds herself surprisingly close to tears when you inquire, “Hey, you want to hear a lullaby? I can’t remember who sang it to me first, but it always helps me calm down. So, I want to share it with you!”

There will be times when Toko is too busy writing stories to pay you any attention. But no matter! After a moment of consideration, you have an idea. You gather blankets and pillows and settle onto the floor beside Toko’s seat. Your arms loop themselves around her leg, and your head finds its way onto her thigh. It isn’t long before you doze off, Toko watching you in silent shock, face rosy with bashfulness and eyes wide.

Toko is very adamant about covering up her legs due to both the tally marks scored across her skin and the quote-on-quote “sturdiness” of her thighs. You, however, have an entirely different outlook. You reason, “the bigger your thighs, the more snacks you can hide under them!” 

[charkyzombicorn]

What did I walk in on?? Part 2

Kiribakudeku soulmate au

Part one HERE

Eijirou tried to work out the situation, he really did. From what Izuku and Katsuki would tell him, the two have known eachother since they were toddlers. He also knew that Izuku never looked him in the eye when he talked about Katsuki and Katsuki didn't seem to like Izuku.

All in all, it was a Mina-approved shitshow.

Without really knowing what to do, he tried to make friends. He unconsciously gravitated toward Katsuki, though, Izuku didn't really talk much and what he did say was nervous and second-guessing. By the end of the day, he had acquired a nickname from his soulmate. 'Shitty hair' wasn't exactly peak romantic but he guessed it was better than Deku, or maybe Deku had a good meaning, seeing as Uraraka started calling him that.

He started calling Katsuki 'Bakubro', and seeing as he wasn't exploded, he thought it was an acceptable nickname.

Day two was...interesting, to say te least.

Training was a heroes vs villains exercise, and Eijirou got a sinking feeling in his gut when he saw his two soulmate's names on opposite teams, pitted against eachother. He shifted uncomfortably at the glare Katsuki shot at Izuku before they went out of the observatory into their respective positions.

Katsuki was definitely bull-headish during the test, he completely ignored Iida and went straight to attack Izuku. Katsuki looked so pissed, his glare made half the students shiver, even through the screen.

It seemed Izuku had a plan, though. He was almost mesmerized as Izuku led Katsuki around like a bull tamer, flawlessly getting Uraraka to go for the real goal.

"HOW LONG?!" Katsuki snarled, slamming open the door to yet another room. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN PLAYING ME?!" Izuku tripped a bit, catching himself but being cornered by Katsuki. "NO ONE JUST GETS A QUIRK AT 15!" He growled, a hostile look in his eyes as he poised his hands to fuel his explosions. And Katsuki swung at Izuku.

And Izuku grabbed him, flipping him in one fluid movement until he lied on his back, winded. Kirishima had to say, that was one of the manliest things he'd ever seen. The fight after that was brutal, and a small part of Eijirou was bothered by how Izuku barely reacted to the burns that were wracking up.

The grand finale left everyone speechless. The high-tech cameras perfectly capturing the horrendous third-degree burns and severe bruising on the boy's broken arms.

Katsuki looked about as terrified as Eijirou felt. Izuku was carried out in a stretcher on the second day of school.

A week had passed since then, and everyone was pretty much acting normally again. The only problem was that Eiji couldn't look his shorter soulmate in the eye. Every time he saw those wide green eyes all he thought was how easily he had broken himself over the most trivial training exercise. He had nightmares about Izuku dying trying to save people, which, from what little Eiji had come to know of his green-haired soulmate, would most likely actually be how he would die.

He went to his dorm (because srsly dorms should have been implemented earlier) and tried not to think about it too much.

He woke up at 2:32am to a knocking on his door. He quickly got out of his bed, opening the door to reveal a surprising head of sandy blonde hair. Katsuki's entire body was tense, his knuckles white and his hair covering his eyes, he just stood there.

"Bakubro?" He quickly whipped the sleep out of his eyes.

"We're soulmates." It was a statement, and Eiji simply nodded. "Deku's your soulmate too." The redhead pursed his lips a little. "Yeah, he's our soulmate." Katsuki tensed a little further.

"So you know how fucked up that was, during the training exercise a week ago." Eijirou sighed in relief, finally having someone say it out loud. "Yeah, how the hell did he get so tolerant to burns?" He asked, and Katsuki seemed to almost curl in on himself, before inviting himself in.

Eiji awkwardly shut the door before turning back to Katsuki, who was sitting on the floor leaning on the side of his bed. His eyes were still on the floor, and his knees were pulled toward himself.

"Do something." The blonde demanded weakly, his voice less sharp that Eiji had ever heard it in the week and a half he'd known him. "What should I do?" The redhead asked softly, trying to set up some boundaries before trying to comfort him.

"I don't fucking know!" He raised his voice, it was gravelly and he sounded like he was about ready to cry. "My parents are soulmates and my dad always helps mom when she's like this, so just work your soulmate magic or something!" His voice was cracking and he clutched his legs closer to himself. Eiji nodded and sat next to the blonde.

"I'm sorry, but I need to know what's wrong so I can try to fix it, bro." He said gently. Katsuki sniffled. "You know, if you didn't say 'bro' all the time, you'd soul just like the old man. It's weird." Eijirou let out a hum but didn't say anything.

"...deku." Katsuki growled, answering Eijirou's question and making him wilt a bit. He never did understand their relationship.

"He almost fucking listened to me, if it weren't for him-" he cut himself off, glaring at the floor like it was the wood's fault. "We've known eachother for as long as I can remember. The nerd followed me around like a lost puppy, and when we figured out we were soulmates..." he let out a small chuckle, a hollow one. "...we argued over who would wear the dress when we got married." Scarlet met crimson. "We decided on you wearing the dress."

Katsuki whent back to burning a hole into a spot on the ground with his eyes. "I'm a fucking idiot." He muttered. Eijirou would have argued, but he wanted to hear everything Katsuki had to say.

"I fell in a pond once, we were walking on a log to get over it and I fell. It hurt, all the gravel and shit, but the extras following me just laughed so I laughed with them." His knuckles turned white gripping his pants. "But deku, he fucking climbed down to the pod to make sure I was okay. I smacked his hand away, I thought he was looking down at me, so I yelled at him until he cried." He but his lip.

"He still followed me around though, looking at me like I was amazing even when I yelled at him, cussed him out, pushed him around, he'd always pick himself back up and start following me again."

"Middleschool and he was still following me sometimes, even though I'd kick the shit out of him if I saw him." Eiji couldn't help the sharp intake of breath. "I told him I hoped you were better than my other soulmate, and that he'd better not get in the way. Now deku can't even look at you without those big sad puppy eyes because I'm a fucking idiot." His voice got a little louder at the end.

"He always did everything I fucking said because piece of shit thought no one else would love him like he deserves!" He'd uncurled himself at this point, still glaring at the same spot on the floor. "I knew he did everything I told him, why did I tell him to swan dive off the fucking roof!!?!!!" He was yelling at this point, tears streaming down his clenched jaw and onto the floor. Eijirou was stunned into silence.

"He almost did it to, said so himself. But he didn't." The anger had fizzled into horse whimpers. "He didn't because I was fucking in trouble. If he didn't help me get that breath of air out of the slime fucker, I could have died, I would have died." His whole face was scrunched in so many different emotions before settling on anger.

"Then he gets a quirk a decade late?! Was he lying to me?! And then that bullshit during the training and he breaks both his arms for no fucking reason, like he's disposable." He gripps his hands into his already messy hair. "It's all my fault he's quiet and nervous and self-destructive, but here I am whining to the soulmate I tried to take from him."

Eijirou would process that truth bomb later, at that moment, Katsuki needed a hug and Eiji was but a humble supplier. He wrapped his arms around the blonde, and to his surprise, Katsuki melted immediately.

The blonde gripped onto the back of Eijirou's shirt and buried his face in his chest until he fell asleep from the emotional workout. Eiji, weak to cuddles, also fell asleep soon after.

[beerecordings]

Big Brother

Part 26 of My Brother's Keeper

(Part 1 l Previous l Next)

He was used to the house being quiet when he lived with Anti.

He remembers the dark silence of the old house for hours on end. There was no electricity, so at night, if he could not sleep, he would just lie awake. The only noise would be the skittering of mice –pets, he liked to think – and the wind blowing through the belly of the house. Once he managed to put an ancient radio back together in the basement, and he liked it because not only would it play old music from the only station nearby, but it would fizzle and crack when Anti came home, and he could leap up to greet him – or hide, of course, depending on the intensity of the glitching.

But over the last week it seemed to him that this house is always full of noise. The cats meow at each other or scratch at the doors, birds sing around the outside of the house, someone is talking, someone is playing a game in the living room, someone is making coffee, the washing machine runs, the wind brushes through the chimes on the door, etc., etc., etc. in an endless hush of warm noise.

Today's quiet. It seems like it's been quiet since the night he ran away and came home again – except Henrik's screaming.

JJ sits up in his sleeping bag, peeking at Chase and Henrik in the bed, both still sound asleep. Thank God. That was a full – he checks his clock – five hours without Henrik nightmaring any of the three of them awake. Even Jameson did not dream. Too tired.

Something bumps upstairs. Jamie starts, looking up. It falls quiet again.

He pulls one of Chase's sweatshirts on over his sleep shirt and gets up, padding into the hallway and up the stairs. Athanasius runs down to meet him, trying to trip him as he goes, but he just pats the cat's head and keeps going.

It's silent outside Jackie's door. He bites his lip and pushes the door open slowly, just peeking through.

Nothing. Quiet.

But as he stops to listen –

Soft crying from Marvin's room. Athanasius mewls at the closed door, but nobody comes to let him in.

Jameson stands there for a long time, lost.

Eventually he goes back downstairs.

He finds the cherry acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet and fills a little measuring cup up. He places it outside Marvin's door, knocks, and runs away again.

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

“Was Anti... good to you?” asks Chase, lounging on his back in the living room.

Jameson looks up and then back down at his painting. When Henrik woke up, Chase brought out some old acrylics and was able to convince them both to paint. It's good because Henrik hasn't been doing much of anything these last couple days, least of all talking – or at least talking from a clear mind.

“You're kind of underfed,” Chase adds, when JJ doesn't answer. “I just... want to know if you're okay.”

Jameson shrugs. “Food here.”

“Yeah,” says Chase. “You know, when Stacy and I broke up – ”

JJ growls under his breath. He did not like that woman in his house. He does not like intruders at all.

Chase sighs. “When Stacy and I broke up,” he continues, resolutely, “I started seeing a therapist. You could too, if you wanted. It helps, once you get used to it.”

Jamie puts his chin in his hand, brushing at his painting with the other. He promised Marvin that he would stay a while longer, and he will. But eventually he knows Anti will get him again.

Hunger and silence and the taste of copper in his mouth...

He sinks down over the coffee table, sighing. It's getting harder and harder to tell himself that he wants to go back. He just ran away because... because Anti will punish him when he finds him, yes.

But mostly because he doesn't really deserve this.

Paints and warmth and cats and noise. It's not meant for him. He's a bad man, and even Jack made him that way, or else Anti wouldn't have been there as soon as he was created. But he promised Marvin, and Marvin seemed to understand something he didn't. Something he wanted.

And anyway, Anti always taught him that falling in love with someone will just fuck you up in the end. He supposes he's already in too deep with these two, though, so that much he will just have to bear. One day Chase and Henrik will break his heart, he expects, but that is what love is. Anti broke his heart too. Many times. He was a liar. He knows that now. Anti lied all the time.

“Anti was not exactly nurturing,” he admits eventually, glancing up at Chase. “And now that I see what he's done to others...”

Chase flinches, eyes darting over to Henrik. Henrik doesn't look back. Even though he's awake, he breathes thick and tired, like he's still in a dream. He's painting nothing but blue brush-strokes across the little canvas.

“It makes it harder,” continues JJ. “I know he has done bad things. Even did bad things to me. But he was still... he's still Anti. My Anti. I love him.”

Chase is gazing at him. Jameson feels a sudden heat in his chest as he recognizes the expression in Chase's face: pity.

Jameson glares back down at his painting, fury spilling pink over his cheeks. He's not pitiable. He just – it's just – Chase doesn't understand. Yeah. Just because Anti can be cold doesn't mean –

“Ow, you're hurting me, you're hurting,” whimpers Henrik, beginning to rock himself over the coffee table, eyes glazed. “No, no, don't, I be quiet, I will, no!”

“Schneep. Schneep.” Chase grabs his hand, trying to pull his gaze up. “You're here, brother. Stay with me.”

“No, no!” He starts to cry, tearing at his hair. “No, I can't take any more! Stop, stop! Why won't you just kill me?”

JJ slumps back from the coffee table, sitting against the couch, exhausted. They can't pull him out of his head. No matter what they try. Henrik's just... stuck.

Because your brother hurt him,sneers a voice in his head. Because Anti was cruel.

Yes. Anti was cruel.

And you did nothing.

Tears fill his eyes.

Yes.

And he did nothing.

He's a bad person.

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

He has not forgotten what Jackie said the night he ran away.

Has not forgotten the look in his fevered eyes.

The love that was there waiting for him.

JJ goes for a walk and cries to himself, because here, in the trees, Chase will not see it and have to worry. He has enough to worry about. Henrik's possession withdrawal and the news of Marvin's death and Jackie's fever, which has not gone down in these three days. Yeah. JJ will not put more on his plate. He can take care of himself, as he always has.

I'm tired of being your enemy,Jackie croaked out. He had meant it, too. JJ could see it.

But in Jackie's warmth is the memory of every time that JJ wished he would come save him and no one did.

And worse, in Jackie's warmth is every lie Anti ever told him, and every fucking time JJ fell for it.

He sobs. Fuck. Anti, liar. You said Jackie was the monster. Could I really have been here, and happy and safe, for all these months?

He grips his hands into the dead leaves and tired grass beneath his hands. I stayed for you. Waited for you. Forgave you for hurting me a hundred times. And you weren't even keeping me safe? You were just –

“Jameson.”

He starts, whirling around. Jackie looks back at him, head tilted. He's wearing that same dumb hoodie he always wears.

“Were you crying?”

JJ wipes his tears hastily away and shakes his head. Clambering to his feet, he turns and hurries away from Jackie down the walking path.

“Jameson,” calls Jackie. “Come back.”

The direct command sends a chill through him. The fear Anti taught him – the fear of what Jackie will do to him – comes rushing back in an instant. He's frozen in the path, a shaky breath shuddering out of his mouth.

“Please,” adds Jackie.

JJ turns slowly, eyes dark, trying not to look like – what did Anti always say? Aren't you just a scared little puppy, Dapper? Haha. You're always like a deer in headlights when I surprise you. Those big eyes. I ought to pluck them out. You look too much like dear old Jack.

“You should be in bed,” signs JJ stiffly. “Chase and Henrik will be sad if you die because you went outside while sick.”

Jackie chuckles humorlessly, his red-rimmed eyes scanning JJ's body. Jameson instinctively steps back, waiting for the attack.

“Yeah,” says Jackie finally. “I guess. Just wanted to ask if it was you who brought me the cold medicine this morning.”

JJ shrugs.

“Why?” asks Jackie.

Jameson looks down at the forest floor, his eyes burning again. He doesn't know. I hate you, he thinks bitterly, but he's too scared to say it where Jackie can see.

“You're a good kid,” adds Jackie after a moment. “You try to pretend you're not because that's what he taught you. But you are a good kid.”

Jameson pants, his heartbeat picking up in his chest. Tears roll down his face and humiliation joins the fury in his chest. Liar, he thinks, this time at Jackie, but even in the signs in his head he sees his own desperation – like he's asking Jackie for something he can't express instead of insulting him. Liar.

“If you really want me to leave you alone for good,” says Jackie quietly. “You can tell me and I will. I want to be whatever you need me to be, even if that's just someone who keeps their distance. Even if that breaks my heart.”

“What if I want you to be gone for good?” demands JJ, stepping towards him now. His tears make their way to his neat beard. “What if I just want Chase and Schneep and I wish you were gone forever and ever and ever?”

Jackie stares at him without flinching. He does not cry, scowl, or lower his gaze.

“Then tell me that,” he replies flatly. “And you can have it. You can have whatever you want from me.”

JJ feels himself shaking. His hands are still upraised.

“If that really is what you want,” adds Jackie.

“You would really go away?”

“Yes.”

“What, and just leave your house? And your brothers? Cause I told you to?”

“You can have whatever you want from me,” repeats Jackie flatly.

His eyes are dead.

Well, then – easy! Easy, are you kidding?

“Great,” signs JJ bitterly. “Problem solved.”

“Say it then,” Jackie demands.

JJ snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You're just lying anyway,” he signs, pointing at Jackie. “You're worse than Anti. You're a liar and a false promise.”

Jackie stares at him. Unmoving. As still as JJ has ever seen him.

“Admit it! You're a liar.”

“You can have whatever you want from me,” he parrots again, and fuck, but that flat, dead voice is grating on his nerves for reasons JJ can't express even to himself. Something is hot and huge and painful in his chest. He wants to hit Jackie. He wants – he doesn't know what he wants, but he wants it so bad it hurts, goddamn, and he knows what pain is.

“Just go back inside!” his hands scream, and then he bends down and picks up a pinecone and throws it at Jackie. “Just – just go back to the house! I hate you!”

Jackie glances down in astonishment as the pinecone bounces harmlessly off his chest. When he looks back up, a thrill of fear runs up JJ's back. Jackie's not doing anything threatening. It just feels like that calm before the storm – that moment where Anti would always turn to him, slow, and let him know by silence and a dark look in his face that JJ was in trouble.

Why do you always insist on pissing me off, huh? You little brat. You know you wouldn't get in trouble if you would just behave. If you would just be good for once in your fucking life.

JJ backs away from Jackie, heart racing. Jackie holds his hands out helplessly, shaking his head. JJ picks up a rock.

“Jameson,” warns Jackie, stepping towards him to take it from him. “Don't throw that. You're just – ”

The rock collides with Jackie's face, making him gasp and stagger back as it strikes him. He screams in pain and JJ turns to run, but a hand snatches the collar of Chase's sweatshirt from behind and Jackie throws him to the ground.

“Would you just tell me what you want from me?” shrieks Jackie, red in the face from fever, a huge bruise forming across his nose and cheek. “Please, don't you know you can have fucking anything from me?”

“Get off!” Jamie signs, trying desperately to roll away from him, but Jackie puts a hand on the bottom of his neck and pins him fast. Jameson kicks him in the chest and Jackie grunts but does not move, getting on his knees to pin the rest of him too.

“What, I have to lose another brother to Anti?” screams Jackie, shaking him by the neck, pinning him into the dirt. “You won't even give me a chance, huh? You're just his? You're just his puppet and that's all you want? That's really all you want? Tell me that! Tell me that's all you want!”

JJ snarls and strikes with his hand at Jackie's face, tearing at his wrists and then at his face as he tries to get free. Jackie lets him claw scratches into his face and does not move, gasping from the pain. “You can't say it,” he pants. “You don't want me gone.”

He shoves Jameson into the dirt, blood trickling down his beard where JJ has torn into his face. “But you won't tell me what it is that you w – ”

“I don't know!” signs Jameson with one hand, nearly striking Jackie again as the sign flails off his hand, desperate. “I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!”

Jackie stares at him, wide-eyed, and seems to flinch as he looks down at his own hands. He pulls back in a jerking motion, letting JJ go, and slumps back onto his ass on the forest floor, eyes still fixed on JJ. They pant together under the silence of the trees, the wind blowing through them and leaving their bones cold.

“JJ,” breathes Jackie. “I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I just... I just want you to be okay, Jamie, and I've been missing you for so long, and Marvin is d-dead – ”

Jackie's voice breaks. He covers his face with his hands and Jameson sees drip from beneath the fingers.

He can't seem to move. He's trembling from fear, waiting for Jackie to get angry again, and come back and crush him into the dirt.

“I can't take it anymore,” sobs Jackie. “I can't take another loss. Please...”

Jameson staggers to his feet. Jackie pulls his hand from his face, looking up at Jameson hopefully, his eyes wide, his mouth open –

Jameson turns around and runs away from him, darting back towards the house as fast as his feet can carry him. He leaves Jackie sitting in the mud and does not look back, and when he gets home he throws himself in Chase's arms and hides against his chest.

“Jamie! You're covered in mud! What did you do? Are you okay? Hey, look at me.”

But Jameson won't. He just wants to hide. Forever.

He can feel himself shaking from everything that is, and everything that isn't, and everything he wishes could be.

.

It takes a long time before Jackie has composed himself enough to make the climb to Henrik's room.

The fever has cooled today, if only a little. He washes his bloodied face in the mirror, trying to smile at himself so some of the miserable, exhausted redness of his eyes will go away. Not much luck there, but he tries.

He tries to make himself stop thinking about JJ and Marvin. All he's done for days, it feels, is cry.

Be strong for the others. He can do that, right? That's his job. That's what matters. That's the only thing that matters. So he summons his strength and he puts his pain aside – he's gotten good at that too, he's getting so damn good at putting himself aside – and he starts on up those stairs like a saint towards Heaven, and finds himself outside the door.

Coffee and iodine and blood-smell. Jackie takes a deep breath and knocks.

“Oh, Jackie.” Chase looks up, relieved to see him up and about. But he is veiled in his distress, in his exhaustion, and it only reaches his eyes for a second before flickering away again, lost.

Henrik's not having what could be called a good day, even by the standards this family sets.

Groaning in German that would not be comprehensible to a native speaker, Henrik pushes back against Chase's chest, rolling his head back and forth, back and forth, a language of pain on his gaping mouth. He holds his wrists together like they're bound up tight, his palms sending sweat dripping down his arms as he struggles through something that is not quite a flashback, not quite reality, and a little bit in the future, staring forward with a well-learned terror, looking back with a heart-crushing horror, stuck tight in the painful-as-hell present and motherfucking choking on it.

Withdrawal, they call it.

Demonic withdrawal. Possession withdrawal. Anti withdrawal.

Jackie thought watching him go through it once was enough.

He moves forward, his shaking hand leaving the door-frame and coming to rest on Henrik's head, a distinctly Jackie gesture – always the hair or clothes, never the skin. It almost makes Chase smile. He looks up at Jackie with tears in his eyes, and his brother looks back, asking a question Chase doesn't quite comprehend and isn't sure he wants to.

Jackie turns back to Henrik, sitting down on the bed beside him. “Hey,” he calls raspily, running his hand across his hair, roughing up his short fringe. “It's me, little brother.”

Chase blinks. When was the last time he heard Jackie call Henrik that? Sometimes he almost thinks of Henrik as the older one. He doesn't wonder often at what life must have been like before he was born. Most of the time he can't even pretend to imagine Henrik as the baby of the family, but right now, with the way Jackie is looking at him – and fuck, Henrik reaching back, reaching out to Jackie, to his big brother –

“Jackie,” he moans. “Jackie, p-please.”

Jackie knocks their foreheads together harshly, closing his eyes, feeling Henrik press back just as strong. He breathes and Henrik breathes with him, his sweaty hands drifting up to touch, just barely, Jackie's chin, beneath his ears. Jackie allows it, allows the fluttery discomfort of the soft pads of his fingers running across his skin. Here, in the tiniest way, he is permitted to share in his brother's pain. If he could, he would steal it all away, and bear it himself. Give it all to me, Schneep. It should have been me to begin with. It should have always been me.

“Jackie,” he chokes.

Tears run down his cheeks, colored like an artist experimenting with exhaustion for a medium, white and blue, purple and grey.

“Jackie,” he sobs. His voice shatters and reforms, gasping, until at last, the plea comes weeping from his mouth:

“Jackie, make this stop.”

Sobbing, Jackie crumples against his shoulder, gripping at the fabric of the worn doctor's coat, wrapped around his brother like swaddling, like memory, his little brother, in torment.

It should have been me! It should have been me! It should all have been me, never you, never you, never any of you. Give it all to me. Here I am. Give it all to me and let me carry it for the rest of our lives.

From the hallway, silver-blue eyes peer through the crack in the door, and Jameson watches in silence as the boy in the red hood holds his little brother close, close, close, crying for all that his family has suffered.

“I'm trying, Henrik,” Jackie whispers, holding him close. “You can have anything you want from me.”

[littleredwolf]

Confessions

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader

Summary: Defeating the galaxy’s biggest foe and being brought to the brink of death causes Tony to get a little sentimental. 

Warnings: Endgame spoilers. 

Word Count: 1,969

A/N: I hope you enjoy some Tony fluff. ^^

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You chewed your lip as you glanced at the clock for what felt like the millionth time, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter with each second that passed. You turned your attention to the door opposite, your leg bouncing erratically as you resisted the urge to jump out of your seat and charge through it in your impatience. You hardly dared to think about what was going on on the other side, all manner of scenarios rushing through your head. 

What was taking so long? Had something gone wrong? 

That last thought alone caused your breath to catch in your throat and you hastily got up and walked to the nearby water cooler, busying yourself by filling a plastic cup and gulping down the lukewarm liquid. It wasn't the most refreshing experience, but it eased the lump in your throat. When the sound of the door handle turning filled your ears you whipped around to face it, eyes wide as a doctor and nurse emerged. You looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to break the news. You hoped it was good news. 

"Everything is fine," the doctor assured with a polite smile. "He's going to need a little rehabilitation and there's a few things to keep a careful eye on, but he's going to be okay." 

The sigh of relief you breathed could have knocked them both off their feet, as all the anxiety and uneasiness that had been building up over the last 12 hours fizzled and ebbed away. 

"Can I see him?" You asked hopefully, chewing your lip again as you nervously awaited a reply. 

The doctor and nurse shared a knowing look, before the doctor gave you a sympathetic smile. 

"You can see him," he nodded, "but please keep in mind what he's been through. He's going to be okay but he is in pretty bad shape - just keep that in mind and try not to be too alarmed when you see him." 

You nodded in understanding, a new wave of anxiety rolling over you as you placed a hand on the door handle. After what seemed like an eternity you were finally going to see him. So many hours of waiting with nothing to do but replay the last time you saw him over and over and over again - it had driven you almost mad. Now, you were allowed to see him, and it all felt so surreal. 

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your nerves and stepped inside. 

-

The rhythmic humming and beeping of machines filled the otherwise silent room, and as you laid your eyes upon the figure on the bed you felt a wave of emotions overwhelm you. Relief, shock, worry, guilt, happiness, sadness, all swirling around like a chemical cocktail. You stepped forward with legs that felt like lead and stopped at the end of the bed, resting a hand on the frame and just looking at him. Taking him all in. 

Tony Stark, the symbol of strength and durability, lay bruised and broken before you, tucked beneath a crisp white hospital blanket. A multitude of wires snaked out from beneath the cover, attached to various machines that monitored who knew what - all that mattered was that they were keeping him stable. The beeping of the heart monitor was like a symphony to your ears, reassuring you that he was okay, he was alive. After everything that had happened, Tony Stark was alive. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek as the weight of the situation hit you. It could so easily have gone the other way. Using the gauntlet against Thanos should have killed him, the power in the stones more than any human could endure, yet somehow, against all odds, he'd survived. For once in your life, you were grateful for his stubbornness. 

"Are you gonna stare at me this whole time or are you actually gonna say something?" Tony's voice cut through the silence, weak but still filled with his usual sarcasm, and you jumped at the sudden sound, blushing in embarrassment for getting caught staring. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and came closer to sit beside him. 

"I thought you were asleep," you said softly, voice threatening to break. 

"That's even creepier," he remarked, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes with a smirk. 

"Nice to see you still have your crappy sense of humour," you teased, causing him to pout. 

"Hey, you're supposed to be nice to me, I almost died." 

"Really? You're playing that card already?" It was surprising how easy it was to fall back into your old habit of swapping banter - it made the current situation a lot easier to deal with, which you suspected was exactly why Tony was doing it. The serious talk would come later, when he was ready, but for now you were happy to lean on humour as a coping mechanism. 

"Just tell me, how's the face? Because that's the real money maker."

You took the opportunity to really look at him, heart sinking as your eyes trailed over every bruise and cut and scar - reminders of what he'd been through. He looked a mess, but it was a relief to see that the impish glint was still in his eyes. 

"Well, you're not gonna get any calls from Vogue anytime soon, but it'll do," you shrugged, unable to stifle a giggle. 

"Ouch!" He gasped, holding a hand to his heart. 

A heavy silence followed and you found yourself struggling for what to say next. When Tony’s hand touched yours you looked up to meet his eye. 

"I'm okay," he reassured, squeezing your hand. "I'm okay." 

You shared a smile as your eyes filled with more tears, and you finally allowed the emotions you’d been holding back to break through. 

"I was so scared," you breathed, inching closer and gripping his hand tighter. "I thought we'd lost you." 

It seemed wrong that he was the one who'd almost died yet you were the one sitting there crying, but now that you'd started you couldn't stop, as sobs ripped through you and the tears just kept coming. Tony did his best to comfort you, rubbing circles into the palm of the hand he was still holding and encouraging you to let it all out. He'd been through hell, but he could only imagine what it must have been like for his friends to witness it all unfold. 

"You could've just said if I looked that bad, you know." 

"Shut up," you giggled through your tears, taking a series of breaths to help calm down. 

"You know, there's something I realised while I was busy thinking I was dead…”

"Yeah? What's that?" 

"We may be a bunch of superheroes with fancy technology and the best gadgets money can buy, but it only takes one crazy guy, high on power, to bring it all crashing down." 

"I'd really rather not think about that just yet." 

"Sorry, it's just...I nearly died, and of all the things in my life I've messed up or regretted, not getting this off of my chest would have been my biggest mistake." 

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, sitting straighter in your chair in preparation for what he had to say. 

"When I thought it was over and was heading towards the light - yeah, it's real - I didn't see God or St Peter or any other bearded guy waiting for me...I saw you," 

"What?" 

He nodded, "I was done, Y/N. I was ready to die. I knew all along that's how it was going to end, and I'd accepted that. I was sick of fighting, just delaying the inevitable. I was ready to go, but then, right at the end, I saw you, and I remembered why I'd been fighting so hard in the first place." 

You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but your heart beat just that little bit faster in anticipation anyway. 

It was no lie that you’d harboured feelings for Tony over the years, but you'd never once expected that he might actually feel the same. It was much easier to bury it away than admit how you felt about someone with his reputation. 

"I couldn't leave without telling you how I really felt. Because it's you, Y/N, it's always been you - you've set me straight when I've lost my way, you've pulled me back from the edge more times than I can count. You've stopped me getting carried away, going overboard. You've always been there making sure I stayed on the right path, and I guess I wasn't ready to admit it before but, I kinda liked the thought of you having my back. I guess nearly dying puts things into perspective, but I just know that I couldn't leave without telling you how I really feel." 

You stared, dumbfounded, as he babbled on. "Tony, what are you trying to say?" 

At this point you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating altogether, that familiar knot of anxiety twisting in your chest again. He took a deep breath as he carefully contemplated his next words.

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a long time, but I never wanted to admit it because I knew that if I did it would mean it was real. I've spent so many years building this persona, wrapping myself up in a safety blanket and hiding away from my emotions. I didn’t want to just lay everything out for the world to see and make myself vulnerable." 

"But. You're Tony Stark." 

"I'm aware of that, yes."

"You're one of the biggest names in the world. You're important. I'm just a nobody."

"You're not a nobody, Y/N. Not to me."

Tears filled your eyes again but this time for a completely different reason. You couldn't deny that you hadn't thought about this moment from time to time, imagining how it might feel if he were to feel the same, but now that he was actually confessing it, it didn't feel real. 

"It's always been you," he repeated, cupping a hand to your cheek and swiping a tear away with his thumb. 

"Oh, Tony," you whimpered, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes. It felt so good to feel his warm palm against your skin, as though his hands had been made just to hold you. When he moved to tilt your chin up you opened your eyes, finding him already looking at you with an affectionate smile. 

"Does this mean it's okay to kiss you?" He asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer. Without another word, you leaned forward and closed the gap between you, pressing the most gentle of kisses to his lips in fear of hurting him. He hummed in content and ran his free hand through your hair, holding you close for just a little longer. 

When you parted, Tony rested his forehead against yours, the two of you closing your eyes and relishing this quiet moment between you. You weren’t sure when you’d get another, knowing the others would be here soon now that he was awake.   

"You're not just saying you love me so that I smuggle you in some cheeseburgers are you?" You asked after a while, pulling away to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

"No, but is that a request I can make?"

"Well, I don’t want to get caught,” you thought aloud, tapping a finger on your chin for added effect. “But I can get Happy to pick some up for you. That way my hands stay clean.” 

Tony grinned, the mischief in his eyes mirroring yours.

"That genius thinking is just one of the many reasons why I love you," he grinned, pulling you closer for another chaste kiss. 

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

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[clown-dumbass]

Reunited

Robby and reader are exes who meet again at a summer job.

You check the mirror in your bathroom, frowning at your appearance. You look...unkempt to say the least. The move has been a bit rough on you. You had to move to a new area for your dad’s job. At least it was an upgrade from your last place. The plumbing was shit there, and one time you found a dead rat in your closet. Fucking disgusting.

You clean yourself as best you can, and try to pick out something relatively nice. You’ve got a summer job at some weird ass karate place cleaning up and shit. You’re essentially a glorified janitor without the uniform. It’s not fantastic but at least it will help you pitch in around your household. The name has something to do with snakes but you can’t remember exactly what it was called.

You survey your clothing without much interest. You’re not exactly going to the Met Gala so why dress up? If it isn’t ripped to shit, then it’s good enough. You settle on a plain black tshirt and some worn jeans. Then you head out the door.

It’s relatively late and dark outside when you arrive at the dojo. You’re supposed to come when all the classes are done. You knock on the door. No answer. You try to open it, and surprisingly, it’s not locked. You suppose they haven’t closed up just yet.

You push open the door to see some dude beating the living shit out of a punching bag. Like wow the fucking rage issues this kid must have because he looks like he’s trying to straight up murder an inanimate object. Cute.

“Uh excuse me? I’m here to clean up and shit? The guy on the phone said to come around 7:30.” The guy whips his head around to look at you and you realize the unfortunate truth. You just signed up to work the whole summer at a karate dojo where your ex trains. You plaster a fake looking smile on your face and wave. “Oh hey Robby! Nice to see you.”

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He frowns back at you. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You smile tensely. “Just here to do my job. We didn’t end on the best of terms”-understatement of the century-“but there’s no reason we can’t be civil right?” You can tell he’s pissed. “Listen, can you not be immature about this? I need the money. You know that. It’s just one summer, right?” He glares at you for a second and then goes back to his punching bag. Guess that’s a yes. Hopefully.

You finish your work relatively quickly. By the time you’re done, Robby is still beating that punching bag the fuck up. Shit. Doesn’t seem like karate has done anything for his anger issues. Despite yourself, you find yourself wanting to soothe him. Robby Keene always had been a bit of a weakness of yours. Breaking up with him was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do. You had realized you were too unstable for a relationship. Your depression had been getting worse, and you could barely motivate yourself to get out of bed, let alone go see him. Your relationship had slowly fizzled out as a result and you both could feel it going. In retrospect, you shouldn’t have broken up with him the way you did. You should have at least called him. However, it took all the energy you could muster just to send that text message. You don’t blame him for hating you, but you can’t quit this job. You need cash to afford your antidepressants. Money is tight as is. It must seem to him that you’re just yet another person who up and abandoned him. You leave without saying goodbye.

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Robby spends his time glaring at you mostly throughout the week. You try to ignore him for the most part but then you come across his sleeping bag. You know it’s not your place to pry, but you do still actually give a shit about him. He was your first real boyfriend after all. So, you work up the nerve to ask him about it. You are met with a charming glare, and the words “like you care.” You figure it’s better left alone, but you still don’t love that he’s sleeping on a freezing cold floor in a thin sleeping bag. You bring a couple blankets from home and toss them over his makeshift bed while he’s not looking. Can’t do any harm.

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The second you enter the dojo the next day, Robby is shoving the blankets in your hands. “I don’t need your handouts,” he says in a quiet but dangerous tone. You roll your eyes. You are well acquainted with his pride issue. The dumbass still doesn’t want help from anyone it seems. “They aren’t handouts, Robby. They’re shitty old blankets I was going to throw away. Just take them. You’d be doing me a favor.” “And why would I want to do you any favors?,” he says. Great more glaring. You roll your eyes again, drop the blankets, and get to work. He ends up taking them in the end.

The longer you work at the dojo, the more you start to notice Robby’s terrible eating habits. He has the tendency to skip dinner most nights. You start buying extra food and “accidentally” leaving it behind. You think he eats it out of spite, knowing it’s yours, but at least he’s eating.

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You and Robby settle into a routine. You ignore each other for the most part. The air between you is still thick with resentment but it’s easier for you to bear now. Eventually though, your peace is interrupted. “Why are you doing this shit for me? I know you’ve been leaving the food on purpose,” he says one day, in an abrupt and accusatory manner. “We aren’t together anymore.” You think that last bit comes out a bit more bitter than he meant it. “Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I can’t care about you,” you say without looking up. “But you don’t. You don’t care about me.” You sigh and turn around to lock your eyes with his. “Yes. Yes, I do. I know I’ve hurt you in the past but trust me, I do care.” He just glares and then returns to training.

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Kreese eventually invites you to sit in on a class. Says he sees “cobra potential” in you. What a fucking weirdo. Well, he’s been good to you thus far so you figure you might as well. At the end of the class, some guy named Kyler starts chatting you up. He winks at you and gives you a final “Later babe” before going to rejoin the others. Robby says something to him quietly, and he looks back at you and nods at him. He doesn’t talk to you again.

The night of the second class you attend, you confront Robby. “What did you say to Kyler? You ruining my romantic prospects now? Real mature.” He doesn’t look up, fierce green eyes focused on the punching bag in front of him. You turn to walk away and he speaks. “He’s an asshole, you know. He bragged about using all his last girlfriends for sex.” You turn back around and cross your arms. “I can look out for myself, Robby.” You pause. “But I do appreciate it.” He ignores you. Figures.

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Then there’s the first day Robby meets you with a black eye and a bloody, busted lip. You ask him about it but he refuses to answer you. Finally you beg him to let you help clean him up and he complies. You gently clean and bandage his wounds. You try to ignore the flush that rises in your cheeks at the close proximity. You work mostly in silence, until you are struck by the compulsion to explain to him why you left. To justify yourself. “I didn’t want to hurt you, you know. My mental health was on the decline, and I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I know how abandoned you must have felt. I know how hard it is for you to let people in and I- I’m sorry, Robby.” He looks at you with an unreadable expression. “If it means anything to you, I sorted my life out. Got on antidepressants. Got help.” He remains silent. You sigh. You don’t know what you were expecting. You leave quietly.

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Summer is coming to a close, and your time a Cobra Kai is coming to an end. Before you know it, it’s your last night. Robby side eyes you for most of your time there, as if waiting to say something but not sure how to say it. Eventually, he comes up to you at the end of the night. It’s clear he has something important to say. “I miss you,” he says finally. “I miss your laugh, I miss your smile, I miss the way you used to look at me like there was no one else in the room. I thought I would never get to have any of that again. But you still care about me, and I still care about you and I was wondering...would you ever want to try again, for old times sake at least?”

3 notes

[stellar-starseed]

Closer Than That

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Changbin x reader, Jisung x reader, polyamory

Summary: Your best friends happen to be 3racha, but Changbin was your closest friend from childhood. When things start to take a different turn in your relationship, you’re left wondering which way is up.

Word Count: 2,280

Chapter: 14/14

Other Chapters: Master List

Warnings: 18+; sexual content, language

Chapter 14

Jisung moped around for months and avoided any group activity where you may be involved. He was miserable. He wasn’t able to get into any groove and his recent songs were all sad songs. One of the producers told Jisung to snap out of whatever his bullshit was. He resented that statement. But he also knew he couldn’t continue like this. He took off his headphones and shut down his computer. He needed to settle things.

You were so relieved to spend time away from everything. You hadn’t had time off of work in nearly a year. It was nice to spend a day at the beach with your boyfriend. After hours of playing and kissing and floating around in the water, you and Changbin laid on the sand covered blanket under the setting sun.

“Princess?” Changbin started. He was nervous and he didn’t want you to smell it on him.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” He said almost chickening out. He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose. You giggled and told him you loved him back.

“I want to marry you.” He blurted out before he could think about it. He couldn’t look you in the eye and he played with the corner of the blanket. You were shocked as you looked up at him. A smile began to grow on your face slowly but oh so wide.

“I want to marry you too, my prince.” You poke his side.

“Ah,” He wiggled and couldn’t hold back his smile. “I know I should have a big ring for you, but I wanted your real ring to be perfect. So, maybe we can pick that one out together?” He pauses and you nod with a smile, biting at your lip trying to contain your excitement. “But I did get you something.” Changbin pulls out a ring with your birthstone and takes your hand. He begins to put it on your ring finger but stops and looks at you for approval. You laugh and nod. Changbin nods back, sighs, and slips the ring on your finger.

You immediately wrap your arms around him and kiss him. You fall back on the sandy towel and fight over who should be in control of the kiss.

Jisung stood at your door for a few minutes as he wondered if he should really be there. He didn’t deserve a chance just like Changbin said months before. He couldn’t handle it, he fucked up. He should’ve never been so hasty, giving you that letter. He should’ve sucked it up and stayed with you. He would rather have half your heart and feel your love than none of it. Just that thought crushed him.

“I miss you.” He said to the door in front of him. He was immediately embarrassed when your neighbors walked by smiling and waving. He waved and smiled as well. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again and looked down on his key ring. He didn’t have your key anymore. “Fuck!” He growled at himself and stormed off.

When Jisung returned to the dorms, Felix was the only one around. Jisung plopped down on the couch next to him. Felix offered a warm smile and pat Jisung’s thigh.

“No Felix approved baked goods?” Jisung questions. Felix chuckles.

“Not today, mate.” He shakes his head. “I think there might be some left over brownies. The guys went out before I finished making them yesterday. Not sure they knew they were there.”

“Good.” Jisung pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. He found a single brownie with a bite mark in it at the bottom of a very large container. He walked into the living room to show Felix.

“Who does this?” Jisung says as he grabs for the partially eaten sweet. He takes a bite and has a seat on the couch again.

“Are you eating your sorrows?” Felix questions. “You seem a tad mopey.” Jisung nods and continues eating with a pout.

“Do you want to help me make more?” Felix questions. Jisung thinks about it for a moment.

“Can we make cookies instead?” He asks with puppy dog eyes.

“Of course.” Felix says and he heads for the kitchen. Felix calls out directions to Jisung as he walks around the kitchen.

“I thought I was just going to watch.” Jisung grumbles.

“You said you would help.” Felix gives Jisung his brightest smile and pats him on the back. “You’re doing fantastic. These might be better than mine.” Jisung tried to hide his smile as he continued mixing what was turning into dough.

Several cookies and a romantic drama later, Jisung began to sigh and shift in his place.

“Wanna talk about it?” Felix caught on.

“I want to talk to her.” Jisung crossed his arms over his chest. “I need her to know how much I care. I don’t want it to end like this.”

“Didn’t you tell her how much you care in your letter?” Felix reached for a cookie.

“Stupid fucking letter.” Jisung’s head fell to his hands. “I want to tell her myself she means so much and I’d rather be with her than without her.”

“But I think the time passed for that right?”

“I thought so but the longer I wait the more excuse I give myself to say that.” Jisung stood up. “I want to go see her.”

“Isn’t that where you were? She’s not at home mate.”

“Right.” Jisung took a seat and sighed. “I’m going crazy. I need to talk to her to let her know before it really is over.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jisung.” Felix said solemnly.

“I have to try.”

“But what about her?” Felix said sternly. “What about Changbin? You hurt her. I’m sure you hurt him too.”

Jisung was surprised to hear this from Felix. Felix has always put things lightly and he was there for Jisung through this whole process. Hearing Felix take on a serious tone and defend the others almost made Jisung mad. His blood began to boil as he thought about his own pain through this.

“What do you know?” Jisung spat as he got up and left.

Felix sighed and shook his head. He put his half eaten cookie down and sat back on the couch. This wasn’t going to end well for Jisung and he didn’t want to stick around to see the car wreck this may become.

“Relationships suck.” Felix said to himself.

“Why do you think I don’t do them!” Chan chimes in and he turns the lights on.

“Except you’re always trying to get into Changbin and ______’s.” Felix laughed. “Everyone home?” He questions. Chan shakes his head.

“Just me and Jeongin who stopped for ramen.” Felix nodded.

“Hannie alright?” Chan plops down on the couch and offers candy to Felix who gladly takes a couple.

“I don’t think so, mate. He wants to tell her he still wants to be with her.”

“Seriously?” Chan sat up straight. “You know where Changbin is right now don’t you?”

“Fucking proposing, bro. I know. I tried to talk him out of it.”

Somehow Jisung snuck past Chan on his way out hearing Chan ask about him made him cringe. Everyone’s been walking on eggshells and he didn’t like it. He needed to end all of this once and for all. He hoped that if you gave him a chance, just listened to him, that you’d understand and want to fix things too.

Jisung waited outside your apartment until he saw your car pull up. He hoped harder than he had ever hoped before that Changbin wasn’t with you. The Gods must’ve been in his side tonight because Changbin was nowhere to be found when you walked up. Jisung took that as a sign he was doing the right thing. He was nervous but decided to shake it off because even the universe wanted him to be here.

“Hey, ______.” Jisung said. You were startled by him as you had been admiring the ring on your finger.

“Hey...” you were taken aback. “What are you doing here Jisung? Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t.” Jisung started. You immediately unlock your door and let him in. He didn’t look well. You got him a glass of water and sat next to him on the couch.

“Breathe.” You tell him. He does as you say.

“I love you, jagiya.” Jisung starts once he’s gained some composure.

“What? Well, I love you Jisung, but we’ve been down that road and I’m not going there again.”

“But I need you to know why.”

“You were pretty clear in your letter.”

“I was jealous.” He pleads. “I felt worthless.” His eyes fill with tears and he tries to reach for your hand when he notices the ring.

“Jisung, I can’t do this.” You pull away from him and stand up. “We had our chance. I asked you never to do that to me again. You promised me you would never just up and leave me like that. You fucking ghosted me Jisung. You did that.”

“Are you getting married?” He questioned.

“Yeah.” You smile down at your ring. You were going to have to get used to this. It seemed sudden, and then it didn’t. Everything about it felt right. Changbin was it. You looked up at Jisung.

“I should be thanking you. I realize what I have with Changbin, and I’m sorry if you ever felt anything but love from me. I really am, Jisung. I love you still. I just had to move on when you broke my heart.” You placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed your thumb over his soft skin. He leaned in to your touch and you gave him a sad smile.

“I hope you find someone who makes you feel the way Changbin makes me feel.”

Jisung returned your sad smile and you offered the couch in your studio to him. He gladly took it and fell fast asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

You sent Changbin a message letting him know what happened and where Jisung was. You decided to just head to bed since work probably wasn’t the best idea.

It was weird to think the attraction between you and Jisung was so intense from the very beginning. All just to fizzle out. It was weird to think of how he would fit in your life moving forward. But as you drifted off to sleep you started to realize you wouldn’t stop loving him as one of your best friends.

Changbin let himself into your apartment. He checked on Jisung who was peacefully sleeping and snuck into your room.

“Jagiya,” he whispered. “I’m here, Princess don’t try to kill me.”

“Binnie?” You whispered in your groggy sleep voice. He chuckled and affirmed with a hum. His arms found their way around your waist and you both settled in.

“Everyone knows about the engagement.” Changbin whispered.

“I knew you couldn’t keep it a secret.” You laughed.

It was Jisung’s turn to dream about you. He dreamt of that day you met in the café to make up. His dream wasn’t as vivid. It was very clearly a dream, but Jisung was ready to enjoy his moment with you.

He was sad when he was watching his dream from the outside, but as soon as you walked in he lit up. He saw his own face light up at the sight of you and he felt excitement all over again. He could smell you and he nearly tasted you in the kiss you shared before leaving the cafe altogether. Jisung heard himself promising you that he wouldn’t leave you like that again. ‘Never’ he told you.

Jisung woke up feeling the weight of his actions. He recalled Felix’s advice not to talk to you about his lingering feelings. He was just being selfish and he just began to realize it. The faint memories he had of his dream in an almost blurry faded state, made Jisung wonder if he had been living in a fantasy. He wasn’t fantasizing his love for you and he wasn’t fantasizing the loneliness he felt, but maybe he was expecting too much from it all. Nothing is perfect and maybe his relationship with you was as perfect as it could get. Maybe he made too much of the little jealousies and the bad feelings.

You woke up earlier than usual and decided to make breakfast for the two sleeping beauties like old times. You walked around the kitchen and began your work on a hearty breakfast.

“My Princess.” Changbin says next to your ear as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You smile and lean back into him. When Changbin starts in with kisses in your neck, you turn in his arms to kiss him. You feed him a sausage and smack his butt as he heads to sit down.

Jisung finally made his way out of the studio when you and Changbin were about half way through with your breakfast. You noticed Jisung’s form entering quietly and get up to fix his plate.

He smiles at you and takes a seat next to Changbin. He’s hesitant to start, but tries not to make things awkward.

“Like old times.” You smile at them. “I hope we can be okay, Jisung.”

“Of course.” He says with his mouth half full. “I’m sorry I made it awkward and I’m sorry that I hurt you. Both of you.”

“That you, Ji.” You walk around the breakfast counter to give him a tight hug.

“Thank you.” Changbin says seriously with a nod and pats Jisung’s back.

It wasn’t what you expected when you started dating your best friends, but you couldn’t really complain about how you ended up at this point. Things felt right.

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I hope you enjoyed!

While this has come to an end there will likely be at least one deleted scene to come from this in the future.

Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay golden. ♥️

[tailorvizsla]

HCs - Jealousy and First Fight

Hi everyone! I got several requests for 🎭 (Jealousy): Din Djarin, Armorer, and Paz Vizsla. Paz also got a request for 💥(First Fight). So, without further ado, here we go! 

📚 My Master List 📚

1. Jealousy – Din Djarin Word Count: 700 Rating: PG13

● Din Djarin is a quiet, unassuming man with little desire for anything but to protect his little family. Din does not talk much, which means it took you a very long time to learn how to decipher his body language. He tends to keep things bottled up inside himself, so even if he is feeling something strongly, he never shows it to you. At best, you will recognize that his tone is slightly off. After that, it takes a few minutes of cajoling before he speaks.

● That is why it takes months for you to realize that he actually likes you and anticipates your company whenever the two of you can spare the time to hang out together. And for the past month? You have been starting to suspect he has romantic intentions toward you.

● One day, he offers to take you to town to pick up some supplies you need, and you eagerly agree.  You look forward to a bit of fresh air, too. You know he isn’t good with small talk, so you keep it to things you know he likes – his sweet, tiny goblin of a child and blasters.

● The supply run goes by faster than either of you anticipated, which means that you can linger in the market for a bit. There, you find a toolkit that you know one of the mechanics needs. It, however, is way out of the price range that you find acceptable, so you start trying to haggle the price down to something you can afford.

● The shopkeeper does not seem to care that you are Mandalorian. He does not seem to care about the fact that you are Mandalorian. In fact, he seems to be gazing up at you in fascination, a blush on his cheeks and a grin stretching across his lips. Sighing to yourself, you flirt back, directing his attention back to the toolkit. He finally knocks it down to what it’s actually worth and you accept his offer. As you start counting out credits, the man cheekily asks if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink later tonight.

● Before you can answer, you feel Din come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. With the way you are pressed up against him, you can feel tension radiating from every square inch of his body.

● “That won’t be possible,” Din says in the rudest tone you’ve ever heard him use with someone, “She’s having drinks with me.” The shopkeeper blinks and nods rapidly.

● “I wasn’t aware that you were with someone!” he says to you.

● “Can we get that receipt?” Din asks tightly, unaware that your mouth is flapping uselessly behind your visor, “My girl and I have plans.”

● You look up at Din, then at the shopkeeper, then back up at Din, your brain fizzling into a state of utter incomprehension. Once the receipt has been handed over, and you have the toolkit in your bag, Din leads you away, his hand possessively low on your hip.

● When you’re back on the Razor Crest, he tries to make a break for the cockpit, but you’re faster than he is, and you cut him off. You fold your arms under your breast plate and stare up at him.

● “Din,” you say quietly. “What was that about?”

● He stays quiet for a few moments. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he finally admits.

● “Were you jealous?” you ask.

● “Yeah,” he admits grumpily. He tries to retreat, but you stop him with one hand on his wrist.

● “You don’t need to be jealous,” you say softly to him. “I…I’m yours, Din. If you want.”

● Din freezes in place. Then he gently leans in and presses his forehead to yours in a brief keldabe kiss.

● “There’s no need to be jealous,” you say. Then mischievously, “Though, I wouldn’t mind you wrapping your arm around me like that again.”

● He stammers something out in response, ducking his head in mortification. It’s true – you do like the idea of him claiming you publicly.

2. Jealousy – Armorer Word Count: 752 Rating: PG13

· Armorer is a woman who has spent many years looking after others before herself. She has lost many loved ones over the years, so she is quite possessive of those who still remain. When she meets you, and finds that she wants you as her own, she makes it known that You. Are. Taken. The Tribe hunters keep a respectful distance from you, knowing that their Alor has claimed you as her own.

· Initially, you are quite shy, but as soon as you get settled into the Tribe, your personality begins to shine. The hunters often call you the runt of the strill litter – you’re the smallest one there, yet you’re the most aggressive.

· (Before leaving you here, Din had taken you aside to give you some advice. “If you want something done, you must not hesitate to assert yourself. Hunters are used to getting their way with outsiders. You make the mistake of giving them an inch, they’ll try to take the entire fucking parsec. Put your foot down and let them know that you are not rolling over for them. I know your society tells you to be nice, but here, be the assertive warrior I know you have locked up in here.” He very gently poked one index finger into your sternum. It was an awkward pep talk, but…it worked.)

· The first attempt to overstep you had happened in the Foundry. Some idiot hunter just shoved his cloak into your arms and told you to go repair it. You had faltered for a half second before getting up and sweetly saying to him, “Of course, I’ll take care of it right now. It won’t take long to fix the problem.”

· Armorer watched you apprehensively as you marched to the Forge. When she realized what you were about to do, she almost stopped you, but she didn’t. (Secretly, she wanted to watch the ensuing meltdown.) You wadded up the smelly, ratty cloak and pitched it straight into the bright blue flames. As the cloak burned away into dust, the hunter spluttered indignantly before making a threat toward your continued existence.

· She stepped in then, warding him off with one hand, “You said you wanted the problem fixed. There is no longer a hole in your cloak.” He had stomped off like a spoilt child then, muttering something foul under his breath about your ancestors. Then she turned to you, “In the future, do not toss a hunter’s property into my Forge. It is not a waste receptacle.” (You turned bright red and stammered out the sweetest, sincerest apology she’d heard in her life. From then on, you insisted on helping clean to make up for what essentially amounted to sacrilege.)

· That ballsy show of a backbone had certainly endeared you to her. You wanted nothing more than to help the Tribe succeed, to learn more about the Mandalorian way. She liked seeing the way your eyes lit up on seeing the children playing (and often, you’d go join them). When you shyly brought her a bottle of cold water at the end of a long, hot day spent at the Forge, Armorer realized that she had fallen hard.

· Other people would have taken time to think about it. She, however, knew how unpredictable life as Mandalorian could be. So she started courting you on the spot, making her interest in you known to you and to the Tribe. No one overstepped…until that one idiotic hunter tried to woo you. She had been jealous for seconds before realizing how stupid it was to be jealous.

· As he tried and tried to convince you to join him for ‘private sparring lessons’, you refused, just smiling, waiting for Armorer to come say something. Armorer finally grew fed up and came to you, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you tight against her breast plate, relishing in the tiny sigh you let out.

· That was all it took for him to realize the mistake he was making. When Armorer let her fingers drift down to her side, he backed off. (If it’s one thing Mandalorians learn early in life, it’s that the armorer of their tribe is the last person they want to cross.)

· You turn to Armorer, burying your face into the fuzzy capelet she wears, inhaling the scent of smoke and fire. Her hand drops to your ass and squeezes, making it clear without a doubt that you are most certainly taken. Then she gently presses her forehead against yours.

3a. Jealousy – Paz Vizsla Word Count: 1210 Rating: PG-13

● As an older man in his forties, Paz Vizsla has had many years to learn how to temper that passionate part of himself. When he grows angry or jealous, Paz instinctively forces himself to stop and think, which is a lesson that many hunters learn far too late in life. Anger blinds people, which leads to mistakes, and can cause devastation. Anger can drive people to do or say things they normally never would. The last thing Paz ever wants to do is to hurt someone he loves.

● He is a walking bucket of contradictions: he is passionate, emotional, and prone to violence; he is logical, rational, and will never hurt the person he loves.

● As Alor’ad when it comes to the military aspet of their Tribe, he is personally responsible for ensuring that everyone is well-trained in a variety of combat techniques, including hand-to-hand, shooting, aerial maneuvering, and survival skills. This is a job he takes Seriously. When he feels someone needs improvement, he will dedicate himself to improving their skill, even if that other person feels like they are being smothered to death by him. (No one will ever complain about this, though, because Paz’s tutelage has saved more than one hunter from a mistake of their own making.)

● One day, while hosting a group of homeward-bound hunters, he sees you talking to one of them. Paz can’t remember his name. All he knows is that the kid is young and cocky, and halfway decent with his rifle. To his dismay, you and the kid get on like a house on fire, as if the two of you have known each other for your entire lives.

● For the first time in many years, Paz finds himself burning with jealousy, and even though he tries his best to hide it, everyone picks up on his body language, his terse speech, and the murderous stares he throws in the kid’s direction.

● Paz would never dream of asking you to end a friendship to make himself feel better. He also knows he needs to make his feelings known to you, but you’re having so much fun he doesn’t want to keep you from shooting with a friend. Or sparring with a friend. Or reading with a friend. Or… Paz shakes the thoughts from his head.

● There is nothing sexual there, he tells himself firmly. (That doesn’t stop him from watching the kid from afar, waiting for him to fuck up just once so he can put him in his place.)

● It takes nearly a week, but the kid finally steps over the imaginary line Paz had put up as his own personal boundary. The kid wraps his arm around your neck, pulls you down, and gives you a good whack on the noggin. Paz sees red at the assault on your person. Rather than blow up at him, you elbow him in the side and laugh at him.

● Paz can handle the banter, the playfulness, and the sparring. But physically putting his hands on you? That is where Paz draws the line, especially since you’ve stabbed other hunters for doing the exact same kriffing thing in the past. He gets up and approaches, keeping his posture calm and relaxed to avoid alerting the little shit of his intentions.

● “Hey, Paz!” you say to him. “Come sit with us!” He wants desperately to sit with you, to feel your warmth against his own, but he has other business to take care of first. He declines with a gentle shake of the head and a brush of his fingers against your shoulder.

● “I actually came over to talk to you,” Paz says, turning to the young man. “Let’s talk about this morning.” The kid cocks his head, relaying his confusion.

● “This morning?” he asks, and Paz nods in response. “This morning,” Paz says. “Let’s go.” He puts one hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezes just hard enough to let him know that he means business.

● Out in the hallway, out of your sight, Paz turns to the kid and stares him down. Then he leans in, making the kid back into the wall in surprise. Paz takes a deep, dark pleasure in watching his rival back down without a fight.

● “Let me make one thing clear to you,” Paz growls. “She’s mine. You put your hands on her again and I will break every single bone in your body.”

● Paz expects the kid to respond with “Yes, sir, I understand” or maybe “Oh, shoot, I didn’t know you two were together” or something like that. What he doesn’t expect is to hear the kid laugh. Stunned, incandescent rage fills him as the kid continues to laugh, unintelligible gibberish escaping his modulator as he tries to speak.

● “What the hell are you two doing out here?” you ask from the doorway.

● “Nothing, cyare,” Paz says. “Just having a talk.”

● “This – this di’kut,” the kid gasps out, “He-he thinks I’m hi-hitting on you!”

● “What?” you ask incredulously. “Paz, what the hell?”

● He almost snarls at the kid as he turns back. While he laughs, the kid shrinks back against the wall, a shriek of laughter escaping him.

● “Paz!” you say, putting your hand on his bracer. “Paz, you idiot, he’s my brother!”

● Like a popped balloon, the rage leaves him, and crippling mortification seeps in to fill the void. It all makes sense now. Paz bemoans his temper. He should have known from the kriffing start. He and Din treat each other the exact same way – the playful wrestling, the banter, and the constant pestering. He takes a half-step back and exhales.

● “Sorry,” he says grumpily. “I didn’t know you were siblings.”

● You shake your head at him, “Paz, I told you my brother was coming to visit. Were you not paying attention to me?”

● “When did you tell me?” he asks in confusion. You press your bucket against your hands in a clear show of your exasperation. The kid just starts to giggle again.

● “I told you right after our last shooting lesson,” you say to him. Paz thinks back on that moment and feels an uncharacteristic blush crawling up his cheeks. He turns back to the kid and slams his hands over the kid’s audial receptors.

● “They’re off, they’re off!” the kid says, and Paz withdraws his hands.

● “Cyare, as I recall, you were quite undressed at that time,” Paz says. “Surely you cannot expect me to actually be able to focus on anything but those little lace panties?”

● You gasp in mortification at his lewd words. Indignantly, you turn on your heel and march away without another word. Paz turns his head back down at the kid and waves his hands to get his attention.

● “Are they on again?” Paz asks.

● “Yeah,” the kid says.

● “Let me get you a drink to make up for my shitty behavior,” Paz responds.

● “You in the strill house now?” he asks.

● “Yup,” Paz responds. “By the way, you’re good with your rifle. I can give you a few tips, if you’d like.”

● After buying your brother a drink, giving him a proper apology, and some shooting lessons, Paz feels like he’s made up for his behavior. Now, he needs to get back on your good side…

 3b. First Fight with Paz Vizsla Wordcount: 663 Rating: PG13

● Despite what everyone says about hunters, Paz is quite intelligent. He is acutely aware of your emotional state and your needs. It is exceptionally rare that he slips up and upsets you. The two of you have your disagreements, like any other married couple, but it has never gotten to the point where the two of you actually fight. Despite your best efforts, it is inevitable that you and Paz have your first true fight.

● The day starts off like any other – you wake up with Paz’s arm around your waist and his face buried into your hair. After getting ready for the day, the two of you head to your respective workstations. The first disagreement is over something ridiculously stupid. You’re already tense, and Paz accidentally brings you the wrong ration. You thank him – a hint of sarcasm in your voice – and he responds in kind. Normally, you and Paz have no problems communicating, but today has been extremely stressful for the two of you.

● Staggering in through the bedroom door, you immediately trip over Paz’s boots and fall flat on your face. Rather than scold him, you blow up at him. He tells you to watch where you are going, rather than apologize for leaving his shit in the way. From there, it escalates, turning into a fight about everything that each of you has done to wrong the other.

● He shuts down when he’s angry, so he stalks off to go hide in the bedroom, locking the door behind himself to keep you away from him. (Honestly, hearing the door shut behind him hurts worse than the fact that you two are even fighting.)

● For the first time since the start of your marriage, you two go to bed angry at one another. You take the couch while he keeps the bed. (He really is too big to fit on the couch, and even though you want to wring his kriffing neck right now, you don’t want him to aggravate his back injury.)

● Later, you curl up on your side and pull your pillow over your head. You can’t help but to cry – you have never been this angry with him or yourself before. You’re frustrated, sad, and alone. Paz didn’t do anything to deserve your anger or your attitude. You don’t want to fault him for responding in kind – he’s a patient man, but he isn’t going to sit there and take someone’s attitude endlessly.

● You sit up and wipe the tears off your face. As you’re wrapping the blanket around yourself, Paz comes out into the living room. He sits down next to you and wraps his arm around you. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against his shoulder.

● “Cyare,” you say softly, “Why are we fighting?”

● “I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t.”

● From there, you apologize for snapping at him, your poor attitude, and the things you had spat at him in anger. He apologizes as well for the same things, pulling you into his lap and holding you close. He exhales and kisses you on the forehead, making you blush lightly.

● “I don’t like fighting with you,” Paz says quietly. You nod in agreement, “We are a team, cyare. No one – nothing – should come between us, especially our anger.”

● Over the next hour, the two of you work things out, figuring out where all the anger had manifested, where those hurtful things came from. Once everything is settled, Paz carries you into the bedroom and tosses you down onto the bed. Then he curls up behind you, resting a heavy arm around you, grunting as he buries his face into your hair.

● “Much better,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep without your hair in my mouth.”

● Quietly, you giggle at his words. The two of you will overcome these differences together, just like any other problem that arises.

All in all, this has been a very informative exercise, and I think this shows me where I need to improve as a writer. I definitely need to work on getting a personality hammered out for Armorer. (That pun was not intended, but I’m leaving it in.) Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a request! I really appreciate it! :D

[five-miles-over]

Blackout (Willie Gutierrez x Reader)

(image source: pinterest.com)

Summary: The reader is Willie Gutierrez’s new neighbor, and the two of them accidentally meet during a power outage when the reader wants to borrow a lighter for some candles

Word Count: 1,588

Warnings: mentions of weapons and murder, as well as references to the plot of ‘The Yards’

They'd only been apart for a week and already he had a new lover hanging off his arm.

For most people living in the run-down apartment complex, situated in the darkest, grittiest section of The Bronx, tonight was just like any other Friday night. After another day at their miserable 9-to-5, minimum-wage jobs, they’d saunter on home and either drink away a large portion of their paycheck or fall asleep in front of their television with a frozen dinner.

But for Willie Gutierrez, it was a night for celebration…a celebration of survival. This Friday marked his first week since he’d been released after 5-year-long sentence that he swore permanently took a part of his sanity. Even though there would be a parole officer visiting him twice a week, Willie was finally free to get his life back and live in society. As soon as the rays of the setting sun caught his eye, Willie cracked open a Miller beer and began scrolling through his cell phone.

I guess he finally got over his thing for Erica, Willie grunted as he looked at the photo. In an effort to be courteous, Leo Handler - Willie’s friend from grade school - sent a picture of himself with his arm around a blonde girl wearing a slip dress and Doc Marten shoes. He really had no need to try maintaining their relationship, visiting Willie in prison and calling him every week, especially not after all the trouble Willie had gotten him into. Maybe it was Leo’s mother who encouraged her son to let the past remain in the past.

Though for Willie, following that advice would be a task much easier said that done.

On the night he killed Erica, Willie remembered hearing a story from Leo’s step-uncle about Leo and Erica being in love despite their relationship as cousins., and how those two were caught having sex once. Even though it had been a while since that fateful night, it still made Willie cringe to think of them doing it. He wouldn’t have felt as bad if he’d found out one of his friends was Erica’s ex, but the fact that it was her cousin and his best friend - who’d taken jail time for their gang - made Willie want to vomit even now.

“Fuck.”

The lightbulb fizzled out like a dying fly, and the heating suddenly stopped, leaving his entire apartment completely dark and cold.

As he took in the view from the twentieth floor, the lights seemed to go out all over the city. Swearing under his breath, Willie slumped onto the couch and tried his best to take another swig of beer. He didn’t exactly have the wildest plans for tonight, but it’s not like he wanted to be stuck in a blackbox with no means of any entertainment.

A few moments later, Willie perked up when he heard a knock followed by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, is anyone home?”

Willie remained silent, wishing that his gun were here right now in case the voice belonged to a robber. Unfortunately, concealed carry for  had a bit too much red tape for Willie’s liking. Not even getting in touch with Frank, his ex-boss, would help him get a gun for self-defense. Frank probably wanted nothing to do with Willie at this point, even if he was released for good behavior.

“I’m not a telemarketer, or anything. I’m your neighbor.” The voice added. "And I'm not armed."

"What do you want?" Willie muttered under his breath.

"A lighter would be nice," You replied. "Or some matches - could you open the door please? I swear I'm not here to hurt you."

Covering his eyes, he was blinded temporarily by the flashlight you held up so he wouldn't bump into you "Geez, you don't have to point that fucking thing at me!"

"Sorry…just wanted to make sure that you knew what I looked like." Sheepishly, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and how recently you'd moved into the building.

"I'm Willie, yeah…I'm new too. Why did you need lighters?"

You gestured to your other hand, which held a few candles. A flashlight probably wasn't going to last you all night, and even though your apartment was a literal shoebox, some candlesticks would provide enough brightness until the power came back on.

"Oh."

"So…may I borrow your lighter, please?"

"I would, but this is my only one."

"…And you don't trust me because you think I won't return it to you?"

After a moment of silence between the two of you, you invited Willie over to your apartment just so that he could take the lighter when you were done with it. And you secretly were hoping that Willie would turn out to be good company.

He internally debated for a few moments before accepting your proposition. On one hand, you seemed like a decent person…a decent person who probably just ended up in this place because you couldn't afford a nicer building, not because you had just gotten out of prison. On the other hand, you probably didn't know that he was a criminal and a murderer - how could he completely trust you, let alone accept an invitation into your home? He didn't even want to tell you his last name, just in case you'd seen it in the newspapers. Then again, it wasn't like he knew anybody else here except for his parole officer, and taking a chance might just be the thing he needed to get back to his old extroverted, adventurous self.

"So, what floor do you live on?"

"The same one as yours, Willie. The twentieth," You answered with a chuckle, leading him inside your home. "Can I get you something to drink - water, beer, or something?"

"Beer sounds fine."

You lit the candles in your apartment before heading to the fridge and handing him a bottle of hopefully-still-cold beer. Gladly accepting the drink, Willie sneakily tried to get a better look at you while you poured yourself another round of your favorite alcohol.

Amongst the candles, you actually looked quite pretty, maybe someone he wouldn't mind seeing more often. He'd most likely never seen you before because he rarely left the apartment over the past week, let alone his room.

On Monday, he could barely get out of bed because of how overwhelming it all felt - starting over from scratch with no friends, no family members, and no former acquaintances. He kept thinking about where to begin, and whom to ask for help. Tuesday and Wednesday, with a little help from his parole officer and prison therapist, he was able to enroll himself in some economics classes from a local college, and a part-time thing as a cashier at a drugstore. Thursday was spent mostly in bed again; it was a 'relapse', as Willie called it. And on Friday, he went out grocery shopping for the first time. Even though most of the stuff he picked out was instant, ready-to-eat food that required little to no preparation, it was still a good start.

"Power outages suck," you muttered, taking a sip.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I remember getting them sometimes when I lived in Queens."

"You lived in Queens?" "My whole life, yeah."

For almost three hours, the two of you continued to make some small talk. You eventually told him that you had recently graduated, and now working somewhere in the Bronx. It wasn't the greatest job in the world, but at least it got you a place to live and paid the bills. You told him a little about your home town, along with a silly thing or two about your childhood.

Willie felt himself relax a little more, hearing you talk about your life. He wished that maybe someday, he'd be able to talk about his past with the same ease that you seemed to have. In addition, you had a really great voice that was nice to listen to, though he wouldn't say that out loud. He didn't want to seem like he was coming onto you too suddenly. Plus, he didn't know if you were even looking for a relationship, or if you were already taken.

Just when you were almost finished telling a story, the lights buzzed back on with a crackle. "Look at that." You sighed, a part of yourself wishing that the power would not return for a while just so that Willie could be over for a bit longer.

"Yeah…power's back. I should probably head back. Besides, it's really late."

"Don't forget your lighter," you joked, reminding him why you originally invited him over to your place. Willie thanked you for your company and laughed a little, his jade-green eyes bearing a slight twinkle.

You walked him over to his place, a mere few steps away from yours, and the two of you discussed the possibility of maybe having dinner together sometime. It wasn't meant to be a date or anything, but just an opportunity for you to hang out as neighbors. You were both alone in a new city, and agreed that it would be great to have at least one familiar face to depend on.

"Good night…neighbor." He disappeared behind his door with a smug wink, proud of himself for taking a chance with you. Just like a poker player with a royal flush, he'd undoubtedly won this round.

"Good night, Willie."

[infini-tree]

FANFIC: 51 weeks

Summary: Moments from a quieter Jungle of Nool.

A/N: Long story short I wrote this way back and decided to clean it up a bit since its the 15th of May, and I need to do something. Ironically, this is mostly in Gertrude’s POV. This drabble (and by extension my personal headcanon timeline I developed) hybridizes aspects of both Seussical, the books, and the movie, hence why things don’t exactly line up with one or the other but hopefully it’ll make sense when you actually read it. 

Long story short, its set during and after Horton Hatches the Egg, before Horton Hears a Who, and everyone’s characterization leans towards their Seussical incarnation.

____________

In two days, Gertrude McFuzz noticed a distinct lack of elephantine rumbling and bumbling in the jungle.

It wasn’t like she and Horton were in any way close-- they were friendly, but they weren’t friends. They’ve had some polite conversation here and there, but they were brief and tapered awkwardly at the end. It may seem silly, but it felt like they were kindred spirits. They were both overlooked and unappreciated for one reason or another. Her with her looks, Horton with his eccentricities.

It took the next three days to hear the news. Word on the grapevine was that the elephant had gotten captured by hunters. As much as the animals perched up and around there were gossipy, it was the one common thread in all their embellished tales.

“S-- shouldn’t we stop ‘em?” Gertrude asked the animals hanging around the grapevine, voice trembling in frantic energy. “We can’t just… let them just take Horton away, can we?”

Everyone in the grapevine looked to each other nervously. Their chatter was muted as they considered it until a voice cut through it all.

“That’s just the way things are.”

She turned around. The air was no less than fresh, but the atmosphere had quickly… soured, to say the least.

Jane hopped up to the clearing, eyeing the other animals, who had gone silent. “It’s unfortunate,” she drawled in a way that, frankly, showed her concern. Or rather, lack thereof. “None of us can change that, and to try that would be foolish.”

“But--”

“But nothing,” she snapped back, leaning in a bit too close. Her joey mirrored the movement, and the poor bird was cornered two to one. “Better him than any of us.”

And much to Gertrude's dismay and horror, she saw the animals chorus an agreement. She wanted to say something, anything! That, if the old Sour kangaroo was so smart, why couldn’t she figure out a way that wouldn’t be quote-unquote foolish. How nature changed constantly-- it was nature, why was this the one thing that couldn’t change? How, even if the kangaroo didn’t care for Horton, that he didn’t deserve this kind of apathy!

But her poor throat could barely make a proper tweet, let alone a proper argument. Gertrude just shrank away until she left. But she wanted to say something, that had to count for something.

____________

Life went on in the Jungle of Nool. Everyone made note of how quieter it was, but only Gertrude would notice how everything seemed less... bright, without the elephant pointing out the little things that caught his eye and marveled at.

For the next few weeks, Gertrude thought back to their last conversation. 

It was a common occurrence to have Horton get an earful from ol’ Jane that it would be more worrisome if it didn’t happen lately. Which was ridiculous. She didn’t remember what riled up that sour kangaroo, but it was enough for it to make a big enough scene.

“She was right,” he mumbled after the fact. His expression was apologetic. “I mean, it was kind of silly.”

“Silly or not,” Gertrude shook her head. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

“It’s better than to be too mean for my own good.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “My own… bad? Hm.”

“I think I get it.” Gertrude flitted to a nearby tree branch. “But seriously-- one ‘f these days, someone should say that she was wrong for once.”

Horton was silent, brows knitted together. You could practically see him turn the statement in his mind’s eye like a particularly difficult coconut to open, looking for a way to crack it open and make sense of it.

“I don’t know about you, but I can go for a quick cool-down cool dip in the pool,” he said in lieu of an answer. It wasn’t so much that Horton didn’t care, so much that he was hesitating to follow through on a thought he’s clearly thought about before. “You coming with?”

Gertrude wanted to call him out on it, to just speak his mind for once because if none of the other animals would listen to him, she would. But she didn’t, and he was gone.

____________

In fifty-one weeks, Gertrude was surprised to hear that rumbling a year later.

For a minute, she had thought herself to be dreaming, but a particularly large tremor knocked that theory out the window. And also knocked her off her perch. With as much grace as she could muster, which was very little in these early hours, she swooped down in front of--

“Oh! Uh, is-- is this your tree?" Before the bird could say anything edgewise, Horton backed away and into the underbrush, trunk positioned behind his ear awkwardly. "Sorry! We'll just get out of your feathers.”

“We?” She quirked her head to the side, eyes widening as she realized that he was treating her like the animals who thought him as a nuisance. “Wait, Horton!”

And so he waited. And looked at her and thought. There was a long breadth of silence where the bird squirmed in her own skin-- oh, he’s forgotten me--

“…Gertrude?” The elephant’s posture slackened, but only barely. He was still on edge, still trying to shrink away.

She let out a sigh of relief. Was it selfish to even be relieved? “Yeah.”

“Sorry, it’s been a long-- well, fifty-one weeks, apparently.” Horton’s tone near the end had a sudden bit of wryness that caught the bird off guard.

And past that, the elephant looked different. Not by much, but in the ways that were important. There were bags under his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was still smiling, but it was frailer than she remembered. More importantly was that he was trembling. Not out of-- well, maybe slightly out of fear, but not completely.

And just as abruptly as it came, the sudden bitterness fizzled out. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. How have you been?”

“How have I--” the bird shook her head. “How have you been? How did you escape the hunters?”

Every time she stepped forward, he took a half-step back. The movement even looked wrong, too jerky.  It was more like his legs were unused to carrying his own weight. “It’s… a long story, and not a very nice one.” A small peep rang out from behind him as he shook his head. “Perhaps another time?”

Gertrude wanted to say that she had been worried sick, that she was relieved, that she wanted to help him, that--

You know what, no! 

Gertrude said, “No.”

Horton flinched. “N-- no?”

“No,” she settled on it. “Listen, you don’t need to tell your whole story, or any part of your story--”

“Gertrude--”

“-- But just, please stay. You look like you’re gonna keel over at any rate--”

“-- I really appreciate it, but--”

“-- And I know you’re gonna say somethin’ like it’s fine and it doesn’t matter, but it does matter!--”

A loud warble echoed from behind Horton and through the treetops. The elephant winced, and he was forced to move his trunk-- and its contents-- back to a more natural way of holding. 

Whatever it was, it was feathery and crying.

“Please don’t be so loud.” The elephant sighed and settled down as he tried to settle it down. “Do you-- um… mind waiting for a moment, Gertrude?”

“U-- um, no?” she looked between him and the sprig of downy feathers having a tantrum-- a tantrum she caused, no less-- trying to figure out how and when Horton got a child in the year he had been gone.

The elephant turned away from her, more out of embarrassment than any attempt to hide the child. He began to rock the clump of downy feathers in his trunk, humming something under his breath. The baby’s fits grew quieter until the sad warbles turned to contented cheeps.

The feathers began to turn and shift, and Gertrude can see sleepy eyes. Its wings unfurled, and revealed--

“An elephant-bird!” she breathed.

It looked like an elephant in every way, shape, and form. Well, except for the wings. And except for the voice, 'cause that's how a bird sings. Or rather, peeped sleepily as it suckled on its trunk. Gertrude stared with wide eyes as it drifted off to sleep.

“You said you wanted to know what happened, right?” he said, finally cutting through the relative silence.

____________

It took half an hour to set up a groundbound nest for the elephant-bird to sleep in. It took another for Horton to tell his whole tale. Or at least, the parts he was willing to share. He talked about Mayzie and the egg, how the hunters got him since he refused to leave. How, after the egg hatched, some other people took him and the baby, and did something to them, before dropping them off near the jungle.

But there was one thing nagging at her.

“Why were you hiding her earlier?”

Horton’s gaze lowered to the baby in the makeshift nest the bird made for her. It was that same look from a year ago, right down to the hesitation to place fault to a party that wasn’t himself. “It was… an automatic response,” he settled on, clearly unsatisfied. “There were others that weren't as kind when I came back.”

“Well, clearly they need their eyes checked,” Gertrude said in an attempt to alleviate the mood. She diverted her attention to the baby and began to coo at it. “The others have no account for taste, do they, baby?”

The elephant-bird continued to suckle on her trunk.

“Was it that ol’ Sour Kangaroo? I bet it was.”

Horton didn’t say anything, but his ears did. He began fanning them, each impact on his side letting out a small crack-crack. If she didn’t know better it looked like the elephant was… angry.

“S-- she didn’t know what happened, and said a lot of t-- terrible things--” His voice was trembling. Even his body was, too. “About me, about Mayzie, about…”

His gaze drifted to the sleeping elephant-bird.

“What did you do?”

“I told her… I told her it was none of her business,” he spat out, almost ashamed. Even if such a statement was so mild, it was a lot coming from him. “It was one thing when it was just me, but...”

Horton trailed off, unsure of how to finish it. Or rather, unsure of how to convey it in a way that didn’t place blame on the other. Even if it was ol’ Sour’s fault. He covered his face with his ears.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said finally.

Gertrude took a hesitant step towards him, tilting her head to get a look at him.  She looked down to see little tear-sized spots dotting the dry dirt.

She took a deep breath. “Hey, you did nothing wrong--”

“But--”

“You did what as right,” she said firmly. “I know you try to be nice to everyone everyone, but sometimes to be good means that you can’t be nice to everyone. Sometimes, you have to stand up for the things you believe and care about.”

The elephant shuddered before hazarding to peek through one of his ears. His trunk reached out to smooth over the elephant-bird’s downy feathers. “Yeah.” Then, with a softer voice, with conviction. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

With the conversation petering out, the both of them sat in silence yet again. Horton, thankfully, was calmer, but his cheer was much more sedate than how it was a year ago. The one thing he never mentioned was what happened between the hunters and coming back, and Gertrude was content in not knowing for now; the hurt was still there, still so fresh.

Still, with how he marveled at the elephant-bird, his child, the Jungle felt a little brighter.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This chapter is a monster so I’m splitting it up into two parts. If y’all wouldn’t mind letting me know if you’re still reading this, I would appreciate it forever.

Small Time Witch (21) part 1

Most of the time when Loki remembered his dreams they were of you or his mother. Sometimes he dreamt of his coronation as king of Asgard with you by his side. The last several nights he would wake up frantic having dreamt of Asgard in ruin. Ragnarok was imminent. He tried several times to reach Thor to no avail. He would go to Asgard in the morning.

You rolled over half asleep reaching out to the warm body that wasn’t there. This is the third time this week Loki had a nightmare. “Lok?”

“In here” he called from the den.

“Another nightmare?” You hugged him from behind. He kissed your hands.

“I don’t think they are nightmares. I think they are warnings. I can’t get in touch with Thor. I’ll have to go to Asgard in the morning.”

“Can I come?”

“I’m afraid not. I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can help.” You let a little spark jump between your fingers.

“I know you can, Pet. At worst something terrible is happening and I’ll have to help. Which means I will be too distracted worrying about your safety to fight. At best I’m just having nightmares, I’ll see the healers and I’ll be home by the next day. I promise.”

You pouted but didn’t argue. You hated seeing him this worried. You made him a cup of tea and sat with him until he was ready to go back to bed. When you yawned for the third time he tried to get you to go on without him.

“That’s it. Off with you” he said over his book.

“I’m not tired. I want to stay up with you. Hey, Loki, I can put you to sleep like you used to do when I had nightmares.” You slid your hand into the waistband of his pajamas and started stroking his cock. It was only a matter of seconds before it was hard and throbbing in your hand. He always responded so well to your touch.

You didn’t even make it into the bedroom. He bent you over the arm of the sofa and pounded you silly. He made you cum three times before he was able to meet his release. After all that you were a half dead mess. He was still wide awake.

“Shall I carry you, my queen? I’m quite strong you know?” He pulled you from the couch and all but dragged you to bed.

“How are you still so awake?” He shushed you as you climbed under the covers. “Don’t leave me. Get in bed.” You rested your head on his chest and fell asleep before he could turn off the light. Sleep never came for him.

In the morning he made you breakfast and woke you with his tongue diving into your snatch. Your all time favorite wake up. You sat on his lap throughout breakfast. He insisted. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you. Since you returned from Alfheim you hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours. Not knowing when he’s return was making you both a little antsy.

“How will I know you’re there?” you asked impatiently.

“You’ll know. The pull will not be as strong.” His voice was low and somber. You both hated that thought.

“How will I know if you’re hurt or worse?” He grabbed your chin and looked into your eyes.

“If I die, you will too. Remember? The rings keep us bound. They’re still Yggdrasil. My soul is still there.”

“How comforting. What if I take it off to wash my hands and that’s the moment you die. Will I still die?”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes. The moment you return the ring to your finger. You’ll be bound to a dead soul.”

Your stomach was in knots. “Good. Because if you die I’ll find you and drag you out of Hel myself. I’m not feeling good about this, Lok. Let me come with you. Or don’t go. We’ll try Thor again.”

Loki sighed deeply. My my, you were peevish this morning. “Y/N. I have to go. I will be back. I love you more than anything. Much more than Asgard. I promise if anything happens I’ll get out of there and come right home. I promise.” He kissed you deeply. He didn’t want to let go. He looked worried. “I love you, Y/N. Not even death can change that.”

“Please don’t say it like that. I love you too, Lok.” He called for Heimdall and he was off.

You tried to occupy yourself but your mind kept going back to him. After your third cup of tea you decided to go relax in the yard. You grabbed a book and a blanket. You read the same sentence a few times and finally gave up. It was no use. That was it. You had been coupled for so long that you forgot how to be with yourself.

It was really no surprise how broken up you were about Loki being away. You were the same way when you and Andrew broke up. This was different. You and Loki weren’t breaking up. You were blissfully happy. You still had a nagging feeling in your chest that something wasn’t right.

That night you dreamt of a world burning down around you. You tried to get to Loki but you couldn’t in time. Every time you closed your eyes you saw his lifeless face looking back at you purple bruised and bleeding. It made you physically ill.

You did everything in your power to reach Loki. Nothing worked. You searched through his books to try to find a way to access the Bifrost. That was either magic Loki couldn’t do or he didn’t have it in his books. You stumbled across one book titled The Joy of Interstellar Space Travel. When you opened it the pages looked a little off. You place your hand in the center and it went right through the book into a little hole. This must be where Loki kept the tasseract and now it’s gone. Your brain flew into a panic and you started shouting for Heimdall.

You had to stop Loki from doing whatever stupid thing he was about to do. Heimdall never answered. Maybe Strange could get you there. You ran into the kitchen to grab your keys when you heard Loki’s voice.

He looked like he had taken a beating. Exhaustion wracked his body. You tried to touch his face but your hand went right through. He was too weak to make his double corporeal.

“Oh, Loki.”

You could see the tears streaming down his face. “Y/N, I’m not going to make it home. I know I promised and I am so sorry...”

“No” you shook your head furiously, “you promised! Come home. Please!”

He shushed you and cursed himself for not being able to touch you. “I don’t have much time. I need you to warn Wanda and Strange. Tell them Thanos is coming for the stones. You have to hurry. He already has two.”

“What do you mean? If you go I go. I won’t be here to tell them..”

“Yes you will. You have to take off your ring.”

“No! Loki! No! I’m coming with you. I’ll find you in Hel.” You were trembling violently and sobbing. Nothing he could say would calm you.

“You have to. Please. This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t taken the tasseract. It’s my fault. Half of our people are gone. I need you to do this.”

“Fuck everyone else. We’re supposed to spend eternity wandering around the afterlife together. We said vows. If you didn’t mean it then....”

He could see logic had escaped you at this point so he got more forceful. “Stop being such a fucking brat and do as I say! Take off the damned ring! NOW. You need to live. You just have to. I’m sorry that this is happening but you shouldn’t be made to suffer because of me.”

He may as well have slapped you. Both of you were prostrate with grief. With every ounce of strength he had he forced his double to solidify so that he may feel you one more time. He placed his hands on the side of your face and made you to see him.

“I love you. Please say you love me. My little queen. Tell me.”

“I love you, Loki. Please don’t leave me. What am I supposed to do without you?”

He took a deep strained breath. Blood was trickling out of his nose and his eyes were rimmed red, “Live.” He snatched the ring off your finger and fizzled out.

You screamed his name like a wild banshee and summoned a wind that knocked everything off the walls. You couldn’t feel your body tumbling to the floor. You couldn’t breathe. You were certain for a split second your heart stopped. The blood rushing through your ears was so loud you couldn’t hear your phone ringing. You held out your hand to bring it over. On the other end was Wanda’s panicked voice.

“Y/N! What happened? Y/N!”

Your voice was very calm and monotone, “Thanos is coming for the stone. You have to get Vision out of there. Loki’s dead. Thanos has the tasseract. I have to call Strange.”

You hung up and dialed Strange’s number. No answer. Your television clicked on. You hadn’t turned it on. The news story flashed on the screen saying that New York was attacked. Thanos was already on his way.

You stayed on the kitchen floor clutching your ring and you cried. There was nothing else you had strength for.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

STEVE

The Quinjet could not carry Steve to New York fast enough. He paced the entire time they were in the air. He kept trying your phone but it was going right to voicemail.

“Pick up, damn it.”

Wanda assured him you were still alive. She couldn’t concentrate long enough to feel you. He called Ororo.

“Captain Rogers. Good to hear from you. What are we looking at?”

“A mad titan coming to earth to collect stones that will help him wipe out half the population.”

“Must be a Tuesday,” she said in jest. “How can we help?”

Steve let out a deep sigh, “We stopped some of his followers in Belfast. I’m sure you saw they captured Tony Stark in New York. Truthfully I have no idea. Ororo, is Y/N alone?”

“She is. She won’t let anyone in the house. Agatha can’t get through the magic she put up. She’s umm...” her voice faltered, “she’s in so much pain. Jean can’t get through to her. Logan has stationed himself outside. When we first got there all we could hear was her screaming. She won’t let us help her.”

“Ok. We’ll be in New York in a few hours. Let me know if anything changes.” He hung up and braced himself against the wall. Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder to comfort him. “Buck, when we land I want you to go straight to Y/N.” Bucky nodded and paced the floor with him.

As soon as they got back to the compound Steve tried calling you again. This time you answered but didn’t say anything. He could hear you sniffling on the other end. “Y/N, Bucky is coming to get you ok? You need to let him in.” You didn’t answer him at first. His heart was breaking for you. He squeezed his eyes his eyes shut, “Come on, Princess, I know you can hear me. Say something.”

“Ok” Click. At least that was something. Bucky grabbed some keys and found the car they belonged to. He raced to you as fast as he could. When he pulled up Logan greeted him.

🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅

“She won’t let anyone in” Logan huffed.

Bucky advanced towards the house. He was scared to death that you were going to kill him. “She knew I was on the way. What’s stopping you from getting in? Will it kill me if I try?”

“Not exactly. It’s just that when you get close you can’t move. Like your body won’t advance or doesn’t want to. I can’t explain it accurately.” Logan was flustered. He had been trying to get to you for hours with no luck.

“Can she hear us talking or should I call her phone?”

“She can hear.”

The front door and windows were open. You were sitting on the couch staring at the wall. You looked so lost and pissed. Really pissed. The most scary thing is that you looked like you were scheming. Murderously scheming. Bucky hoped that none of Loki’s stupid tendencies rubbed off on you.

He got as close as you would allow and he spoke softly. “Hey, doll. Steve sent me to get you. We don’t want you to be alone. But if you don’t want to go I will sit here and wait as long as you want. But, I haven’t watched this season of Drag Race. If you want to let me in I can watch with you. I brought the essentials.”

Agatha perked up, “Keep going, Bucky. It’s working” she whispered.

“I have Funions from the gas station. I know you like road trip snacks. I also have peanut butter M&M’s and Oreos. If you have some ice cream we can make milkshakes. I have bourbon if you want to make it interesting. Not the fancy kind. That rot got Irish shit that burns when you swallow....”

“I hope you brought enough for everyone” you finally said. Bucky stood up and gingerly stepped into the doorway.

“I have plenty. Didn’t know how long I’d be here. Can we come in?”

“Door’s open, Buck.” He walked in quietly and sat on the couch.

“Everyone calm down. I’m not going to flip out. Sit down. Eat. I have leftovers in the fridge. Wolfie have you ever seen Drag Race?”

After a few drinks and lots of snacks everyone was ready to get some sleep. Ororo, Jean and Agatha headed back to the school. It wasn’t a long drive. You promised to call in the morning. No way Logan was leaving you. He set himself up in Thor’s room. Wade found the other bedroom. Bucky offered to take the couch but you asked him to sleep in bed with you.

He shot Steve a text. Instead of texting back he called.

“Hey. How’s it going over there?” Steve was very anxious. He didn’t know how to talk to you.

“Fine. I’m going to see if she’ll get some sleep. Agatha made her some tea. Said it had a mild sedative. I’m going to sit up with her.”

“Is she around? Can I talk to her?”

“You’re on speaker.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Hey, Steve. I’m ok. Well I’m not ok. I’m fucking gutted. I’m ok for now. I’ll go back with Bucky in the morning.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We do kind of need all hands on deck though. I know the girls are dying to see you too. Get some sleep ok?”

“Ok.” and you clicked off the phone. “Has he always sounded like a worried mother or is that new?”

“Be nice” Bucky scolded. “He’s just worried. We all are. I’m going to shut off the light ok? Sleep.”

You held on to Bucky the whole night. You fought against the sedative for as long as you could but it finally won. As soon as you closed your eyes, there he was. Loki’s face was purple bruised and bloodied. His neck looked broken. His eyes were open and just stared unfocused. You tentatively reached out a hand to touch him but you pulled back.

You wanted to hit him, to scream in his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to move. Finally, you crawled towards him and situated yourself where you were laying against his chest. You used to fall asleep listening to his heart beating. There was only silence. You pulled his arm over you and tried to will him to wake up. When you squeezed him harder he turned to dust in your arms. You screamed and, judging by the look on the three men’s faces, you were screaming for real.

“Sorry, guys. Bad dream.” You settled back down and kept having the same dream. You didn’t scream anymore. You just held him as long as you could.

🟠🔴🔵🟣🟢🟡

The next morning you sent Logan and Wade home. You promised them you would be ok and that you wouldn’t murder a Titan without calling them first. You and Bucky chatted on the car ride back. The conversation was light and took your mind off of things.

When you got closer to the compound you got quiet. Seeing everyone again was making you feel anxious. Bucky held your hand. It felt like the first time you visited the compound with Wanda. Loki made you feel so safe.

You were trying to keep your emotions in check but when you saw Wanda, all of that went out of the window. She wrapped you in her arms and you melted down. “We were really happy.” Was all you could say. She and Nat took you upstairs so they could help you take a bath.

Bucky plopped in the chair. Steve looked at him like he wanted to ask a question but he was reluctant.

“How did she sleep?” he finally asked.

“She screamed in her sleep all night. Every time I thought she settled down it would happen again. The three of us took turns keeping watch. She electrocuted Wade once when he tried to shake her awake. It was pretty funny. She’s not ok, Steve.”

Steve signed and rubbed his face, “Shit. Why don’t you go take a nap and we’ll meet downstairs in a couple of hours?”

Already nodding off, Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. Steve paced outside of your door wanting to see you so badly. Finally Nat came out to get you some water.

“Does she want to eat? Can I see her?” He followed Nat down the hall bombarding her with questions.

She put her hand on his shoulder, “I know there are probably still feelings in there but you have to reign them in. She just lost her husband. Let her grieve before you swoop in.”

“I’m not swooping. Who is swooping? Wait! Husband?! They’re married?”

“Yes. Apparently he figured out a way to share his immortality with her. In doing so some elf priest split their souls and intertwined them together. If she puts back on her wedding ring she dies. It’s complicated.”

Steve’s head was spinning. He was still trying to understand the very simple fact that you and Loki were husband and wife.

“Does she want to see me?” His voice was small and timid.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Just go, Steve.”

He opened the door slowly and peered around the corner. You were sitting on the bed with your head in your hands. Wanda was rubbing your back.

He had never presumed that his relationship with you was on the same level as what you had with Loki. He did not share your twin abilities to know what the other is feeling. But this time, he could feel the despair drifting off of you like a fog.

He knelt beside the bed to try to see your face. You didn’t acknowledge him but you didn’t pull away. He had no words of comfort to give you. He could not take your pain away. He could only offer support.

“How can I help?” he whispered. You sat up and took his hands in hours. Your face was haggard and your body somehow looked frail.

“You can’t. I know it’s your nature to try to fix things but you can’t. Just be my friend.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Wanda, why don’t you go check on Vision? See how the plans are coming. I’ll stay here.”

Wanda was reluctant to leave. She promised not to go far. As soon as the door clicked closed Steve got into bed with you and scooped you into his lap. You buried your face in his shirt and screamed until you passed out. He held on to you as tight as he could to absorb as much as you would give.

The whole team hovered outside of your door until Steve came out. “She’s asleep. Let’s go hash this out. Let her get some rest.”