#sometimes i forget he was ever gone and then days like today it Hits and i just feel so so grateful that we have him back

[yangjeongin]

saw that today (or yesterday?) was the anniversary of mixtape: oh aka hyunjin’s first appearance after his hiatus and maybe i’ll cry actually

[blue-slxt]

Settling In

*Request*

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Okay so I'm reposting this because I found out that the person who requested it was a minor and I don't play that shit on my blog. I am only for adults. So if you liked the old post, that one is gone now. All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Ao'nung x Fem!Sully!Reader

Warnings: Teasing, Smut, P in V, Rut Cycle, Breeding Kink, Choking, Creampie, Binding, Marking, Scenting, Blood, Belly Bulge, I think that's everything.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Ao'nung has teased you relentlessly since your family came here. What happens when you stumble across him in the midst of his rut?

This felt like some kind of living nightmare. You and your family having to flee your home in the forest and come to the sea. Uprooting your entire lives, leaving everything you knew, forgetting who you were, and coming to start from scratch. The Metkayina way of life was beautiful and their village is wonderful in its own way, but it still doesn’t feel like home. Not even close. The one good thing that’s come out of this whole thing was meeting Tsireya. She’s been a welcome comfort for you and your siblings while you adjust to your new lives here.

She’s warm and bright and patient. It makes you wonder how someone so radiant could ever be related to someone like Ao’nung. Just the taste of his name in your mouth was enough to make you scrunch your face in annoyance. He was always just a pain to everyone, but a lot of times it felt like he put extra effort into tormenting you as Neteyam’s 5-fingered twin. The way your dad explained it, apparently twins are a human thing that can happen sometimes. The na’vi aren’t really familiar with the concept since it doesn’t occur naturally for them, but here you stood. The exception to the rule. And Ao’nung never let you hear the end of it.

Over the months, you learned to ignore him and tune out his endless teasing. Occasionally, when he would get tired of being ignored, he knew which buttons to press to get a response from you. Today was one of those days.

You sat out on the beach with Tsireya and Tuk and your mood sours when you notice Ao’nung walking your way. “Tuk, how about you go feed some of the ilu with Tsireya?” you suggested to her. You can tell what kind of mood he’s in from the mischievous glint in his eye. Her face lit up with pure joy.

“Can we?” she says to Tsireya.

“Of course. Come with me.” She holds her hand out for Tuk to take and you watch as she happily trails behind her into the water. The sight is enough to momentarily warm your heart before you have to harden yourself to deal with Ao’nung.

“Oh, am I not invited to join the party?” he drips sarcasm.

“I don’t need her getting caught up in your bullshit.”

He shrugs his shoulders and holds up his hands, “I wouldn’t mess with her. As far as I can see, she’s the only one of you that seems like a true na’vi.” You set your jaw and take a deep breath trying to center yourself.

“I mean the whole lot of you came out weird. Especially you. She wasn’t born with a weird extra finger or a spare copy. That child is more na’vi than you will ever be.”

He hit that button. You snap and hiss at him in warning. He’s unphased staring back at you with an amused smirk. He found it adorable to watch you get so worked up. And he loved being the one to get you worked up. “Fuck off” you snap at him before walking the other way towards the water with Tsireya and Tuk. Ao’nung turns on his heels and walks away feeling satisfied.

“I swear, Tsireya, I cannot understand for the life of me how you can be related to that!” you gesture back towards the shore at Ao’nung’s retreating figure.

“I know my brother can be a lot. He only teases because he thinks you are pretty.”

You roll your eyes, “That has to be the dumbest thing ever.” She giggles a little, “I never said he was smart, but it is the truth. Why do you think he’s always going out of his way to find you all the time?”

Tuk looks up at you, “Is Ao’nung going to be your boyfriend?”

You fake gag at her question, “Absolutely not Tuk Tuk. Now, show me how well you feed the ilu.”

…

Later on at dinner with the village, you sit with your family while they all talk amongst themselves. You’re not really paying attention to the conversation since you’re still a little agitated. Your eyes scan over all the people surrounding you and how happy they all look and wonder if eventually you’ll find that same kind of happiness. Or at least something close to it.

Rolling over the people, your eyes are met with a pair staring back. Ao’nung watches you from the other side of the bonfire. His face is serious and his breathing is heavy enough for you to see the dramatic rise and fall of his shoulders from here. What’s his problem? If anybody should be staring someone down, it was you. A nudge to your arm brings your attention back to your family. Neteyam is next to you giving you a questioning look. “It’s nothing ‘Teyam.”

“I think you forget, we have known each other since before we were brought into this world. I know you well enough to know that it is not nothing.” It was true. Neteyam knew you better than anyone. Whether that was because of him being your twin or because he took his role as the oldest so seriously, who knows. Most of the time, you’re actually pretty grateful that Neteyam could understand you so easily.

“Tsireya said something earlier and it messed with my head.”

“What did she say?” he scoots closer to you so that your conversation can be kept between you two instead of the whole family.

“She said…she said that Ao’nung thinks I’m pretty or something and that’s why he’s always teasing.” “Well duh. As much as I hate to say it, it is pretty obvious that he has a thing for you. And you’re not so innocent in all of this either.”

“’Teyam!” you are taken back by such an offensive suggestion. First Tsireya and now your own brother?

“You might not notice, but I do. Yes, he’s always picking at you, but you love this little game that you two play. It’s nauseating.” His tone is teasing, but he means it.

Ridiculous. How could you ever want someone like that? Your head turns to look back over at him, but he’s gone. You look around between the seemingly endless sea of people and can’t find a single sign of him. That’s weird, but you’re glad that maybe now you could continue on with your meal without eyes burning into the side of your face.

…

Looking around your marui, the rest of your family is peacefully sleeping. You had no idea how they did it. You couldn’t stop your mind from constantly analyzing all the ways that this place was so different from home and that thought literally kept you up at night. It had become something of a routine for you to sneak out on nights like this after everyone else was asleep. You’d tiptoe out of the pod and wander out into the forest by the beach.

It was nice here. It was the one thing here that reminded you of home. The plants and fruits were different, but the atmosphere was similar enough to give you some comfort. In particular, there was one large tree that you would visit most nights. You’d climb and sit on one of the giant outstretched branches and just listen to the sounds of the night.

This is everything right here. This is what helps you feel like you can finally breathe. At least, until you hear a scream in the distance. Immediately, your instincts put you on high alert. You stand from your spot on the branch with your knife in hand and look around as far out as you can see. A faint orange glow catches your eye from the mouth of a cave not far from you. That’s odd. Who else would be out here at this time? And why do they sound like they’re in pain?

You know that it’s probably not the smart thing to go investigate, but you’d also never forgive yourself if someone got hurt and you could’ve prevented it. You climb down and make your way through the forest towards the light you saw.

The closer you get, the more you can start to smell something in the air. It reminds you of fresh rain on tree bark. It’s almost sweet. You follow the scent to the opening of the cave, “Hello? Do you need help in there?” Your voice echoes around the inside of the cave and you’re only met with groans of pain for a response. “I’m coming in!” You grip the handle of your knife a little tighter before taking a step in. The glow grows brighter and finally a small fire comes into your vision.

You were already on edge, but the next thing you saw was what fully threw you off balance. It was Ao’nung. He was sweating so much you thought he might dehydrate himself, his hands were bound behind his back, and he was writhing around in pain. “Ao’nung?” His eyes snap to you and he looks completely different. Instead of his usual sea blue color, his eyes looked a deep purple.

“What are you doing here?” he’s out of breath trying to get the words out.

“I heard you yelling from almost a mile away, I thought somebody needed help. Believe me, I wouldn’t have wasted my time if I knew it was just you.” You cross your arms and shift your weight to one foot and his eyes watch the swing of your hips intently. He sucks in a sharp breath and doubles over. Your eyebrows knit together trying to understand what’s happening. “What is your deal?” You catch sight of a bulge poking through his loincloth and finally the last piece slots into place. “Oh shit…it’s your rut.”

He just nods his head since his mouth is too busy salivating.

Now it makes sense. The weird way he was behaving during dinner, the sweet smell in the air, and the hungry look on his face.

“Well, shouldn’t you be at home? I mean why the hell are you all the way out here like this?”

He shakes his head. “Too much…Need to stay away…”

Your chest tightens with a pang of sympathy for him. You’ve gone through many heat cycles without relief and it is excruciating. The suffering is unmatched. There’s only one thing that truly takes the pain away.

“This is crazy. I’m cutting you out of these.” You start to move towards him, but he tries to shuffle away from you.

“I don’t think you get it. If you cut me out of these binds, I won’t be able to stop myself. So don’t do it unless you’re ready to deal with what comes after.”

“I’m a big girl, Ao’nung. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” you roll your eyes at him and move towards him again. “I mean it. This is the last warning I’ll be able to give you.” His tone is serious and his eyes are focused. But you don’t falter. You swallow down your nerves and continue forward. “Just shut up and let me do this, okay? Before I change my mind.” You crouch in front of him and reach around to his wrists. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m even helping you. You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since I got here. But luckily for you, I’m feeling generous.”

You saw away at his bindings and your chest presses into his face. He inhales your scent and his hips twitch searching for something to grind against.

Before you cut all the way through, you pull back and look him in the face. His face tries to chase after your chest, but his restraints keep him in place. “This is the one and only time I’m helping your ass. Got it?” He can’t even bring his eyes up to yours when he nods his head. You tsk at yourself for getting mixed up in this mess, but there’s no turning back after your knife cuts through his ties.

His arms immediately fold around your waist and pull you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. He buries his face deeper into your chest breathing you in. “Chill the fuck out. Your scent is going to get all over me.” You try to crane your neck back, but a strong hand grips your throat and pulls you back forward.

“That’s kind of the fucking point.” His voice is a dark growl against your skin. His tongue drags a long stripe from the middle of your chest up to your collarbone and even further up to your ear. Your breath grows shaky. “You talk so much shit, but look at how your body reacts to me.”

“Shut up.” Your voice comes out more desperate than you mean for it to. He was right and you hated that fact most of all.

He’s growing impatient when his hands hold your hips and start grinding you into him. You let his hands guide you to where it feels best for him. His bulge presses against your clit with every drag.

He kisses and sucks on your neck and you just know he’s going to leave a mark. “Don’t…everybody will know…”

He only chuckles at your pathetic plea, “Everybody will know when you’re walking around carrying my baby.” He pushes his hips up against you and he can feel how you’re soaking through your own loincloth and his too. The waiting finally gets to be more than he can bear and he pulls his tewng to the side to finally free his impossibly hard dick. You feel yourself desperately clench around nothing. He pulls yours to the side and he lines himself up with your begging hole. You take a big breath to brace yourself, but you were not prepared for him to slam you down onto him in one swift motion and you scream out in surprise.

“Fuuuck…” he groans out feeling the way your walls frantically squeeze around him. You’re given no time to adjust before he’s lifting your hips up and down on his own.

It’s too much. It’s like he’s tickling the bottom of your ribs. When you finally take a real breath, all that comes out is a filthy moan. Looking down, you can see the imprint of his tip poking through your skin right at your navel. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

“Haah…fuck…Ao’nung…”

Ao’nung needs more. More friction, more of your sweet noises, more everything. That’s all his mind can think of right now. Just how much he needs you right now. He lays you down on the floor of the cave to give himself better access to pound into you.

His eyes are burning into your face and the eye contact is too much for you. It’s too embarrassing. You turn your head to find something else to look at, but he won’t have that. His fingers grip your jaw and turn your face back towards him. “Look at me. Take it.” He emphasizes his point by tightening his hold on your throat. Between his merciless thrusting, the intense eye contact, and his fingers around your throat, you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching. It makes you feel lightheaded and even as your vision starts to blur, you never move your eyes from his face.

Just before your consciousness slips away, he releases his hold on your neck and moves his hands down to massage your breasts. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and bathes you in his scent to mark you even further. His teeth sink into your skin deep enough to draw blood. He goes mad at the taste of your blood spilling onto his tongue.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to fuck this perfect little body. Just watch you take it over and over. Fuck, I want to give you a baby.”

Was this just his rut talking? Or did he actually mean it? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

His pace gets faster and his groans get louder. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill this little pussy up.” His grip on your body is so tight, the veins in his arm are bulging out.

“Ah! Ao’nung! Yes!” your head falls back and your legs shake as you fall into your release. The way you clamp down around his dick pushes him over the edge and thick ropes of white spill over into your womb. It feels like fire in your veins, but it’s addicting.

Ao’nung keeps thrusting into you languidly trying to ensure he fucks as much cum back into you as he can.

He collapses on top of your heaving chest with closed eyes and you stare down at his face to try and check his condition. When he looks back at you, you breathe a sigh of relief seeing his normal blue shade. Never did you think you’d actually be happy to see Ao’nung in any circumstance.

“You okay?” you ask cautiously. He nods still catching his breath. “Great…You wanna get out of me now?”

“Oh, right.” He lifts himself up and pulls out of you and a primal part of his brain is pleased to see that none of his seed spilled out of you.

You stand to fix your clothing and hair. “So, you can go home now, right?”

He scoffs a bit more to himself than at you, “My ruts last 3 days. I am fine for now, but there’s no telling how long it’ll last for. I have to stay here until I’m out of it.”

All the nerves in your body come alive with…something you can’t readily identify right now. “Oh…I see…”

“So you’ll know where to find me if you’re ever feeling generous again.” He winks at you and you know that your face is flushed.

“You wish, fish boy.” And with that, you turn and leave back to your home. Thankfully, it’s still hours away from sunrise so everyone is still asleep. You stealthily slip back into your marui, but of course one person’s ears perk up.

“What are you doing?” Neteyam whispers to you. Shit.

“Nothing.”

“Why do you smell like that?” he asks. Shit shit shit.

“Don’t worry about it, ‘Teyam. Just go back to sleep.” You lay down and hope that will be the end of it. Neteyam knows better, but he’s far too tired to go back and forth with you about it right now in the middle of the night.

You finally get the best night of sleep you’ve had since coming here.

…

The next morning, you all have the day off of training so you get to hang around at home instead. You sit on the edge with your feet hanging over into the water. Jake comes and sits next to you, “You okay, baby girl?”

You smile softly to yourself at the nickname. You loved it, but you also felt like you were getting a bit old for it. “I’m okay, dad. I’m just still getting used to it here.”  He nods in understanding. “But I think I’m starting to settle in.”

[onemorecupofcoffee]

"The Need For Topical Music", written by Phil Ochs

Before the days of television and mass media, the folksinger was often a traveling newspaper spreading tales through music. 

It is somewhat ironic that in this age of forced conformity and fear of controversy the folksinger may be assuming the same role. The newspapers have unfortunately told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the cold war truth so help them, advertisers. If a reporter breaks the "code of the West” that used to be confined to Hoot Gibson movies, he’ll find himself out on the street with a story to tell and all the rivers of mass communication damned up. 

The folksingers of today must face up to a great challenge in their music. Folk music is an idiom that deals with realities and not just realities of the past as some would assert. More than ever there is an urgent need for Americans to look deeply into themselves and their actions and musical poetry is perhaps the most effective mirror available. 

I have run into some singers who say, “Sure, I agree with most topical songs, but they're just too strong to do in public. Besides, I don't want to label myself or alienate some of my audience into thinking I'm unpatriotic.”

Yet this same person will get on the stage and dedicate a song to Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger as if in tribute to an ideal they are afraid to reach for. Those who would compromise or avoid the truth inherent in folk music are misleading themselves and their audiences. In a world so full of lies and corruption, can we allow our own national music to go the way of Madison Avenue?

There are definite grounds for criticism of topical music, however. Much of the music has been too bitter and too negative for many audiences to appreciate, but lately there has been a strong improvement in both quantity and quality, and the commercial success of songs like “If I Had a Hammer” have made many of the profit seekers forget their prejudices.

One good song with a message can bring a point more deeply to more people than a thousand rallies. A case in point is Pete Seeger's classic “Where Have All the Flowers Gone” which brought a message of peace to millions, including many of the younger generation who do not consider themselves involved in politics.

Folk music often arises out of vital movements and struggles. When the union movement was a growing, stirring and honest force in America, it produced a wealth of material to add to the nation's musical heritage. Today, there regrettably seem to be only two causes that will arouse an appreciable amount of people from their apathetic acceptance of the world; the Negro struggle for civil rights and the peace movement. To hear a thousand people singing "We Shall Overcome" without the benefit of Hollywood's bouncing ball is to hear a power and beauty in music that has no limits in its effect.

It never ceases to amaze me how the American people allow the hit parade to hit them over the head with a parade of song after meaningless song about love. If the powers that be absolutely insist that love should control the market, at least they should be more realistic and give divorce songs an equal chance.

Topical music is often a method of keeping alive a name or event that is worth remembering. For example many people have been vividly reminded of the depression days through Woody Guthrie’s dust bowl ballads. Sometimes the songs will differ in interpretation from the textbooks as with “Pretty Boy Floyd”.

Every newspaper headline is a potential song, and it is the role of an effective songwriter to pick out the material that has the interest, significance and sometimes humor adaptable to music.

A good writer must be able to picture the structure of a song and as hundreds of minute ideas race through his head, he must reject the superfluous and trite phrases for the cogent powerful terms. Then after the first draft is completed, the writer must be his severest critic, constantly searching for a better way to express every line in his song.

I think there is a coming revolution (pardon my French) in folk music as it becomes more and more popular in the U. S., and as the search for new songs becomes more intense. The news today is the natural resource that folk music must exploit in order to have the most vigorous folk process possible.

(Broadside #22, March 1963)

[octopiys]

Cw: blood/murder, body horror, mentions of catholic guilt

Witch!Johnny who has no idea of what he's doing.

His nights since "Simon" has returned have been restless, dreamless, and he's always woken up feeling.... unfinished. There was was always unease in his chest, buried deep, like the feeling of forgetting something. His days don't go by much easier.

His work is mostly on the computer, and there are sometimes where he must go into the offices, bring Gary some leftovers from the night before, fill out some files, and head on home.

Today, though, is different. He spends his time searching through every record their office had, trying to find any semblance of what he's seen.

Witch!Johnny, who's beginning to think the lack of sleep has made him go insane. Maybe he's making it up. He feels more comfortable gaslighting himself into believing that a storm pushed over the tree in his backyard, than-

NCO!Gary who finds Johnny asleep at his usually empty desk. There were numerous tabs pulled up on his computer, of age old chat forums and supernatural sightings from years ago, blogs that had gone cold. He smirks, shaking his head with the roll of his eyes as he pats Johnny on the back, trying to wake him up.

NCO!Johnny who wakes with a jolt. Gary looks slightly concerned, he must've fallen asleep again. He apologizes, and shuts down his computer. He's just felt so tired recently.

Witch!Johnny, who comes home to Ms. Riley, pacing anxiously on his front step, who's eyes light up when she sees him. She looks tired too.

"Oh, John, thank goodness- Mozzie's run away, and Tommy's coming in tonight, I was gonna ask if you can keep an eye out for him!" She pleads and he agrees, equally worried for Mozzie, short for Mozart, which is short for Mozzarella, who's been the Riley dog as long as he can remember. How the little rat dog escaped bequeaths him, but he promises to double check his wildlife traps tomorrow when he takes the cart around to collect them.

NCO!Johnny who ensured that his traps were practically harmless to the environment, not a doubt in the world that Mozzie had gotten into one of his raccoon cages.

Witch!Johnny who locks his doors twice tonight.

Fae!Simon, who thinks it's rather hot. The weather, that is.

It's a peculiar thought to have when some humans flesh and blood lies mangled beneath him. There was a soft inkling of recognition in the base of his skull, a little tendril that beckoned him to destroy it, and so he did. The heated metal bits that were fired at him had little effect. They could not hurt him now.

They could not hurt him anymore.

What used to be the wriggling mass under him had called him something odd, whispered it like a True Name, and it was. It hit a notch in the tendrils of his heart, and he sprung. This man had wronged him before, and used his true name to do so. Yet, when he said it, it didn't entirely feel like his.

Like something else shared it.

So it must've not been his after all.

He turns, the earth warm beneath his feet as the sun rose high in the sky.

What is a Simon, anyhow?

Witch!Johnny, who dreams tonight. He's a kid again, pouring over his nan's old books while she bakes too salty cookies in the kitchen. He never complained, and she gave him a handful of chocolate chips to munch on while the cookies were in the oven. Simon would be coming over later, and he too, would not complain about the cookies. Johnny would give him a chocolate chip for his bravery.

His Nan bumbles up to him, her chest puffing proudly that the boy is following in her footsteps. "Did ah ev'r tell ya 'boot my lil' Jackie?"

"Yes, Nan," He'd always say in response.

"Aye, but y' dinnae ever listen!" Something sharp lurks beneath her words, like sharp rocks that you take notice of when you finally take the training wheels off of your bike. "When ah was a wee lass, my lil broder, Jackie, was too curious for his own good. Born with caul, too, if ye can believe. Mam would call us in fer dinner, and she'd send me ou' ta find him. He loved the woods, that boy, and the life inside o' it. Real sweet lil' thing, too. Broke his heart anytime Mam squished a bug, and God forbid he stepped on one o' em on his own! I found him, one night, sittin' just inside o' the trees. There were mushrooms all 'round him, like somethin' had died just up under th' roots. An' ah knew then, I think. But ah ran inside and got me Mam, cus he would nae answer when ah called 'im. She came out with th' shears-" She pokes him in the side with a wooden spoon for extra measure, and he giggles, despite the tragedy of the story. "An' cuts up all o' the mushrooms, an' he sits up, and walks back inside."

"What then, nan?" He asks, always too eager for his own good.

"Thought ye said ye heard o' this one?" She teases him, before turning away and continuing. "He was so quiet after tha'. Made me sad, cus he would nae talk aboot anythin'. Like a switch had been triggered. He stepped on a bug he found that night. And another one, after that. His eyes were so cold." She trailed off, sounding almost sad, which seemed impossible to Johnny, because his Nan was never upset. "Me Mam turned him out the next week. Told him that she wanted her boy back. She warded the creature off with those shears up there, an I never saw 'im again." She hums, like this was an everyday occurrence as she gestures to the old sheers hanging in the window.

Witch!Johnny asks, no longer a child. "What was it, Nan?"

His Nan just smiles, before looking down at the book. "Seems like ye found one o' yer own, have ye nae?"

Witch!Johnny who looks down at the old book, where written in ancient ink across the top was the header: Changeling.

Witch!Johnny, who sits up in a cold sweat. His clock read 3:13. Unlucky. Somewhere in his former catholic brain, an alarm bell rang.

The curses of the law lifted by becoming the curse.

Did he still have that book?

He'd found one of his own. He spills out of his bed, racing to his bookshelf.

He blows dust off the cover and flips through it until he's satisfied, eyes settling on the thinning paper. Changelings. Was he right?

Deep-seated unease settles inside of him as he read, mentally ticking off boxes.

For it is written.

Pointed teeth. Cold eyes. Personality change. Precious, precious, precious. Did he play any instruments? No. Not Simon. He barely talked anymore. Barely ate, that he knew of.

Changeling, changeling, changeling.

The man that lives down the street, who came back rugged from war. The man who was not the person he grew up with. The Simon who came back. He should've known. Oh, his grandma must be turning in her grave right now, or laughing at his stupidity. He drops the book, hands shaking.

The Ghost that replaced Simon Riley was a Changeling.

Cursed is everyone who hangs in the trees.

Last part | Next part

Inspired by Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron

Taglist: @whorangi1104 @impossible-to-pronounce @the-only-universe-here

(If your blog is here but the tag doesn't work, there's a good chance your blog is accidentally hidden! Lmk if that's the case :) )

Any questions? My ask box is open!! <3

[mcntsee]

Shooting star

Summary: You spot a shooting star, close your eyes tight, make a wish, and hope it comes true.

Warnings: Angst.

Note: This is not my favorite work, but I saw a shooting star today and just had to write something.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz wasn't certain what had brought him here in the first place, nor did he have an inkling as to why they were having this conversation.

"It's not foolish; it's a shooting star!"

Yet, deep down, he acknowledged it might have been his heart’s silent plea to remain close to her, willing to follow her anywhere, even through the depths of hell.

"It's not even a star."

"Quiet and let me make a wish."

He couldn't fathom it. Watching her squeeze her eyes shut so tightly, he wondered if she wasn't seeing stars.

Despite finding her actions silly, he couldn't bring himself to extinguish the twinkle in her eyes.

So he waited until she opened her eyes again. "I've seen you take down multiple men, yet you believe a rock will make your wishes come true."

“There’s people out there that can stop our hearts with a mere gesture.”

Not to mention those born destined to become Saints.

"I believe a rock entering the atmosphere could make a wish come true."

He recalled his mum mentioning shooting stars a couple of times. Just like Y/N, she had mimicked the same actions. Whatever his mum had wished for, he never discovered.

“Has it ever?”

“What?”

“Has a wish ever come true?”

“Yes. One.”

He wanted to laugh. How unfair it seemed that she could find happiness in a rock when he, as a child, had been let down by the so-called shooting stars multiple times. But he didn’t.

“What was it?”

“To be saved.”

If Kaz was known for anything other than the dreadful things he could do for the right price, it was for always having a retort. This time, however, he didn’t. So he listened.

“I was hungry, angry, cold and sad. And I saw one.”

She could recall that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. Granted, it had only been a couple of years, but she was certain she would never forget it.

“I wished someone would come and save me.”

She had closed her eyes tightly, her father’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her of the countless times he had taken her stargazing.

The day they saw a shooting star, her father had told her to make a wish. She had.

Sometimes she still wonders if the reason why her father died was was because she had shared her wish with her friend. If the Saints viewed it as breaking a rule and twisted her dream into a nightmare.

“Next day, you found me.”

“I think that’s called luck, love.”

“We don’t get lucky, Kaz.”

Kaz hummed. A silence enveloped them both, and he wondered what she had wished for. To live for many years? To always have money? Perhaps she had wished for love or to leave this city behind.

“You should try it.”

“I don’t rely on rocks for my wishes to manifest.”

With a sigh, she stood up. For a moment, Kaz yearned to grasp her hands and implore her to stay, to convey that he would, just to keep her from leaving. Yet, he hesitated, and that brief pause was all she needed to vanish.

“And, I already have my shooting star.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz never would have imagined that the next time he returned to this spot, it would be without her by his side.

He never anticipated the overwhelming emptiness that would consume him—the ache in his heart echoing the memory of her laughter and the beauty of her eyes whenever his mind dared to revisit those moments.

It had been so long since he last heard her voice—telling stories, teasing him, attempting to draw laughter from him.

His shooting star was gone, and all the magic she had planted within him was extinguished—ripped away just as she had been.

He felt so alone.

While his mind had been lost in what if’s, his eyes caught the swift movement in the sky—a shooting star, racing faster than the constant wind hitting his face.

He laughed—a laughter laced with pain—as he reminisced about the countless times he had seen Y/N pause, shutting her eyes tight in pursuit of wishes.

Without meaning to, he imitated the same actions he had seen her do countless times, closing his eyes. His wish left his lips in a quiet whisper.

“Come back.”

But she wouldn’t. After all, it wasn’t even a star. Just a rock breaking through the atmosphere.

In the blink of an eye, the shooting star was gone, much like his- his girl, his shooting star.

[aerodaltonimperial]

Passive aggressive Jack letting Hook know he is mad by committing every Italian cooking taboo he can think of. Looking him dead in the eye as he breaks the pasta.

(this is the funniest prompt i have ever received, i need you to know this - 💚🧡)

Okay, at first, it could have been... not intentional. Jack's quiet, but, like, he's sometimes like that, and it doesn't always mean anything bad, it just means he's all up in his head about something, and normally Hook just lets him work it out 'cause Jack won't give anything away unless he's good and ready. But it ends up hitting 5 minutes with Hook standing on the other side of the kitchen island while Jack cooks, and Jack hasn't said a word, and Hook... may have misjudged this.

Shit. Did he do something? He doesn't think he did. Did he forget something? Oh, god. Oh, god, what day is it. He's so fucking bad at remembering things. Is today important? Fuck. What month is it? He's panicking when Jack finally raises his face, looking up from the pot of boiling water. He's got the spaghetti in his hands, all bunched together.

He glares at Hook, holds his gaze, and cracks the spaghetti pile in half.

Oooooookay, that's bad. Shit, Hook's absolutely fucked up. He's forgotten something, or he did something, or is it possible that Jack had a dream where Hook did something and he's punishing him for it? No, no, Jack wouldn't do that. Jack's not the kind who...

...pours a jar of pizza sauce into the bubbling pan while the pasta hasn't softened at all.

Oh my god, Hook's gonna die.

"How's... how's your mom?" he asks, though his mouth has gone dry.

"Great," Jack replies. He doesn't break the staring contest as he twists off another lid and dumps the whole jar of oyster sauce into the pasta soup.

Oh my god, why would he even buy oyster sauce?

"Uh," Hook tries. "How's your..."

The rest dies on his tongue as Jack pours in a bottle of worcestershire. Jesus christ. Hook's entire family tree is rolling in their graves right now.

He has to leave the kitchen, but it was the wrong choice, because when Jack finally sets the food in front of him, the pasta is.... soup. It's fucking soup, and it's about the run off the plate. Hook spots chunks of pineapple swimming in the abomination.

Jack leans down, hands on his knees and falsely bright smile plastered on his face. "What day is today?"

"...Monday?"

"Well, you got close," Jack says. "It does end in y. How about an easier question."

Hook squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to look at the crimes against food mocking him from the plate. "Please don't."

"What date is today?"

"The... 10th?"

"It's the 22nd," Jack tells him. "So if you subtract four, what day would it have been four days ago?"

"The..." Oh no. Oooooooh no. "The one-year anniversary of... oh god." He's sweating; it's beading up on his forehead and falling into the food and he can only imagine that it would improve this absolute fucking horror show.

"Yeah," Jack says.

Hook swallows, and it hurts. "I forgot our anniversary."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna have to eat this, aren't I?"

"Every single bite."

He can't. He'll throw up. He'll throw up, and Jack will absolutely dump the rest of the plate on his head, and he'll have to explain to everyone why his boyfriend broke up with him and gave him a concussion. "I love you?"

"Don't even think about it, asshole," Jack whispers. "You're gonna eat all of that, and then we'll see."

Dear god in heaven. Hook utters a silent prayer slash apology to all his ancestors shrieking in the great beyond, picks up his fork, and prepares to give his entire fucking life, and possibly his functioning stomach, to his relationship.

[keischreiber]

Welcome Home

Reiner x Reader Genre: Angst TW: Depression | Guilt | Self-loathing

Just because the Rumbling is over, does it mean that Reiner's trauma goes away?

Of course it doesn't. He could be coping because people are more accepting now, but I can imagine how panic attacks plague him when he least expects it.

How when anxiety hits, it hits him hard. Part of him, feels like he's getting better… but the majority of him still believes that there's no getting better from who he was. Regardless of being one of the Peace Ambassadors, he still believed himself to be less than that.

"What a joke," He'd tell himself at times, wondering how he landed this role after all the things that he had done.

He was part of the crew who saved the world, but more than that, he was the perpetrator and instigator of war. Even now, he still thinks back to it… to when he forced Annie and Bertholdt to go along with his selfishness. Maybe if he hadn't been so desperate, something might have changed. Maybe the road to something this peaceful wouldn't have been stunted. Maybe things would have been better had someone else inherited the Armor if he had just gone back home when Annie said they should have.

Maybe Porco would have been the better choice…

… after all, it was always supposed to be Porco, right? Marcel revealed the truth. Not a day had passed since the thought didn't enter his head.

Bottom of the pack. Loser. Talentless. Liar. Psychopath.

— Murderer

He could go on and on about it; the many reasons why he didn't deserve to be who he was today.

Stolen so many lives, so many dreams, so many futures… so much, so much, so much so that he wanted to vomit every time he remembers it.

But when all was said and done, he still accepts this role. People were starting to forget his crimes, he was being regarded as one of the heroes who stopped the Rumbling. He smiled at them, at the capacity that he could. When he came back home, he was treated the same way. He was recognized and was regarded with respect, much like any hero would.

For those that couldn't, he never blamed them.

He was, after all, not blameless.

During this time, Reiner had purchased a house of his own. He had invited his mother to live with him, but she had opted to stay with her sister to allow him some freedom in case he wished to start a family of his own.

It had been some time since Karina had told him the truth. He held no ill-regard for her, after all, he wasn't that stupid to see the reality of everything. It had taken him quite some time to accept it; the time in Paradis helping, so digesting how she had used him for her own agendas… well, it got easier over time.

"I know," He remembered himself telling her; watching as his mother cried her apologies… saying how nothing she did now could ever make up for what she had done to him. Reiner never blamed her for anything, believing that part of her simply wanted their family to be reunited.

He wanted to keep it at that, after all, when it came to these matters, even he could be selfish.

Still, coming home to his own house was always a nightmare.

He didn't know what you continue to see in him, but he was always happy to know that you were there. That, despite everything, you had chosen to share a life with him. It meant days or months apart, but you were always so patient with him. Sometimes, he was concerned when you don't ask him for anything. No flowers, no souvenirs from Paradis, no nothing.

"Come back home safe," He would remember you say, and that was that. Sometimes, he wondered why the only thing you asked for was the hardest one to give. When you tell him to return safely, it wasn't just physically. When you tell him to return home safely, it meant with a sound mind intact. It meant with a little more forgiveness for himself. It meant, with a little more kindness to himself that he hardly ever afforded.

When you tell him to come back, he's always afraid that he's going to fail those expectations. That he'll come back an even bigger mess than when he left.

And the worse part of it all was…

"I'm home."

… was coming home to an empty house that greeted him with nothing but silence.

Today was one of those days.

One of the days when the silence haunted him in the same way that his past did.

Reiner dropped the suitcase that he carried, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Frantically he went from one room to the next, looking for any signs of life. Everything was clean, as if no one had been here for quite a while.

He didn't know if it was just his imagination, or if it was because he had been gone for far too long.

Many things plagued his mind. He was always away, not by choice… but he couldn't use that as an excuse. Even if he said he wanted to be around more, and no matter how patient you were… it was only a matter of time before you got fed up with him and his absence.

Fed up with him and his issues.

"Of course you'd leave… why would you stay with someone like me?" He asked, his body trembling. His lips curving itself to defeat as he ruffled his blonde hair unkempt.

He wanted to cry, knowing that this was his fault in the first place. He knew that he shouldn't be complaining or expecting too much. He knew that this was how it'd be; how it should be. But now that you weren't here, why did it hurt? Why did he want things to be different? Why did he want you there with him, along with the patience that you often showed; along with the kindness that you always ALWAYS showered him with.

For a moment, his eyes darkened, his demons consuming him once again. Until,

"Reiner, you're ho—me— R-reiner?"

… until he heard your voice. In an instant his head snapped to attention, seeing you by the door. He couldn't see anything but you; his strides fast and long. Before you knew it the bag of groceries that you held in your arms was replaced by his trembling frame.

It was tight.

The way he held you was suffocating, and you would have complained had you not heard his sobbing. You could feel it, his tears streaming down his face and onto your scalp as he began to cry against your hair. He buried himself there, and by the second, he simply continued to let it all out. You could hear him mumbling over and over: "You're here, you're here," as if those were the only words he knew.

Your eyes glossed over, you always felt like crying with him when he was like this.

"I missed you so much." Your voice was soft as you whispered. You don't know if he'll ever completely come to believe you... but regardless, you tell this to him every time he returns.

For now, you kept him close, letting him cry.

You pushed the door to a close with your foot, so that the both of you could simply be together in the privacy of each other's arms.

"Welcome home, Reiner."

[simping-for-joe]

Take a Deep Breath

Leon Kennedy X Dyslexic! Reader

You decided to put something together without help but struggle with the instructions the day escalates from there

A/N: So fun story, I have dyslexia, and a lot of times when I see neurodivergent reader, it's not really included so I said fuck it and wrote it myself. This is based on a general experience I've had with dyslexia. I tried my best to communicate what it feels like for me personally. Sorry, this is like really specific and I'm probably the only one who wants this.

You had decided it was a good idea to try to put together a nightstand while Leon was at work today. You had the day off and decided to do a few things around the house. Leon and you just moved into a new apartment and needed a new nightstand.

You open the box with some scissors and take out the instructions. You take out all the parts, as well as get the tools the paper told you to grab. A smile on your face as it seemed like this would be easier than you thought.

“Okay…” You're about a third step in, and you read the instructions…. You read it again… you read it one last time. “W-what?” You look at the picture and… it was no help. “Am I dumb?” You ask yourself slightly annoyed. You take a deep breath slightly annoyed before you start to read it out slowly. “Connect part C to part D… but how the hell…” It was so vague you weren’t sure how you were supposed to exactly attach them and the picture was absolutely no help whatsoever. That good mood was almost completely gone, but you were still determined to do this. It would be a nice surprise for Leon and maybe you could figure this out.

You needed a break so you were in the kitchen scrolling through your phone, you were beyond frustrated and started to get a little shouty with the instructions. It probably didn’t help that anytime you’ve ever built furniture it was with someone else. You wanted to slam your forehead against the countertop, but you get distracted by the sound of the front door opening.

“I’m home!” Leon calls when he notices you're right in the kitchen. He chuckles a little before you hug him tightly. "How was your day?" He asks softly as he hugs you back.

"Actually... I was hoping to get your help with something." You bring up to him.

"What is it?" He asks curiously as you guide him to your bedroom. He looked in and that answered his question.

"I... I need you to read this." You hand him the directions slightly embarrassed. He just takes the paper and reads the instructions out to you. You listen, think for a moment... and find you are still lost. Leon chuckles softly, and motions for you to watch him do it. You watch as he effortlessly puts together the last part you need to complete the nightstand.

Annoyance and embarrassment fills you as you realize how simple it was to finish the nightstand. Leon gives you a reassuring smile.

"It's alright," he attempts to assure you and kisses your forehead to make you forget your emotions on the matter and make you feel a bit better.

Leon makes the decision to go grocery shopping to distract you from the whole nightstand thing. You had written a list earlier in the day, and it seemed like a good idea.

However, as you're walking through the store and you ask Leon for the next item on the list, he's stumped.

"Leon?" You ask softly, and he looks to you.

"Um... sweetheart, what does this say?" He asks you showing you the paper and you honestly have no clue. You cannot tell what the hell you wrote on that paper.

"I have... no fucking clue." You say softly in shock as you take the paper from him trying your hardest to remember. Sometimes when you spelled things wrong you could remember what you were trying to say, this was not one of those times. You groan out annoyed, and want to hit something.

"Hey... are you okay?" He asks you softly.

"No! I fucking hate having dyslexia, it fucking sicks!" You stop and sigh out annoyed. "Sucks... I meant sucks..." A little defeated, you hang your head a bit.

"Come here, baby." He says softly pulling you into a hug. Embracing you tightly calming you down a bit. "Just take a deep breath..." He assures you gently.

"I'm sorry... it's just so frustrating sometimes..." You tried to explain, but it was annoying. You didn't hate your dyslexia, it was more complicated with that. You know on some level, you've grown used to your disability and you've learned to live with it. However, it still got in your way sometimes.

"I know..." He assures you gently, kissing your forehead. "This stuff happens sometimes, and that's okay. Don't beat yourself up about it okay?" You nod gently embracing him tightly.

"Thanks, Leon..." You smile looking up at you fondly.

"It's no problem love... now, let's try to figure out what's on this list." He jokes getting a chuckle and a smile from you finally.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

of reassurances and reflections

idk why i wrote this coda but, enjoy

[AO3 Link]

Word Count: 2345 words

Buck’s thinking about something.

Eddie can’t stop looking at him from across Christopher’s lunch box, over the bologna sandwiches and bottle of energy drink and pouches of applesauce. 

Part of him still doesn’t believe that Buck’s here, in his house. Alive, whole. Undamaged.

Well. Almost undamaged.

He can see the cracks in Buck’s composure clear as day, can see the fissures that drove him out of his apartment into Eddie’s house. He can see the fragile thoughts underneath, built up behind a mask that would fool everyone but Eddie.

On a normal day, they’d be racing to see who could finish making Christopher’s sandwich first. On a normal day, Eddie would have to slap Buck’s hands away from the extra pouches of applesauce. On a normal day, Buck would wrinkle his nose as Eddie spread mustard over the bread.

Today is not a normal day.

Buck watches him make Christopher’s lunch with a stillness that isn’t him, not even reacting when Eddie accidentally puts a little too much mustard on one side of the bred. He’s almost blank, watching Eddie go through the motions. Eddie can’t help but watch Buck from across the table as he sips his water leisurely, crossing his arms over his chest as if bracing himself for something.

His next words are both expected and unexpected.

“Hey, what do you remember about getting shot?”

Eddie brain screeches to a halt. Absently, he knows he’s still busying his hands with something, he knows he’s peering back at Buck, but the rest of it...the rest of his mind is filled with nothing but the imagery of that day.

The screaming.

The blood.

The splatters.

The ruined white shirt.

The shock.

The fear.

Eddie remembers the agony first, and his shoulder twinges with the phantom memory of the bullet tearing through his flesh. But he also remembers the stark fear that Buck had gotten hit, too, the idea that Buck’s pale skin could be marred too unfathomable for Eddie’s pain-soaked brain.

There’s something fragile in Buck’s eyes right now — something curious, tentative. They haven’t broached this topic before, in the two years or so since. It’s just one of those things that lives between them quietly, laying roots that tug them together and root them in place.

Sometimes, though, those roots scream. They spit emotions, they drag up memories, they remind Eddie of all the things he, Buck and Christopher have gone through — but they also remind Eddie of the things they’ve have gotten through. 

Right now, Buck doesn’t need the reminder of how Eddie thought he was dead two years before he actually died, and he doesn’t need to see the tremble in Eddie’s fingers as he thinks of those horrible, horrible days waiting for Buck to wake up.

So he rips the crusted edge of the bologna off, steadies himself and says, “There was a searing pain. It felt like I got hit by a bus, and I was still standing.”

It takes every ounce of his courage to keep looking at Buck as he talks, only breaking eye contact to grab the rest of Christopher’s lunch ingredients before he forgets. “I remember falling, and everything got dark. And I thought…this is it. This is the last moment of my life.”

He meets Buck’s eyes, sees the residual grief in them from what he’d been through while Eddie was under. But he also remembers Buck’s face being the only thing visible in the sea of darkness, his voice tugging Eddie up before he could sink. He remembers Buck shoving his St. Christopher’s medal into his hand. He remembers Shannon’s words, about how Christopher needs him. 

He remembers seeing Christopher’s life flash before his eyes — the life they’ve built together, and the future Eddie didn’t think he’d ever get to see. He remembers the sound of his son’s laugh, of his stubbornness, of his wild hair and bright, inquisitive eyes. He remembers seeing his happy kid, and wanting to make it back to him.

But he remembers Buck most of all. 

And in that moment, I saw you. 

You were the last thing I wanted to see before I died, and I thought I’d gotten my wish.

Somehow, thankfully, Eddie doesn’t say that. 

He forces some levity in his tone as he finishes, “Then I woke up in the hospital.”

It feels like he’s paying some sort of penance when Buck looks up at him with a furrowed brow. There’s disbelief in his eyes, almost like he can sense that Eddie’s not telling him the full truth.

The conversation stretches, emotions flying across Buck’s face too quickly for Eddie to pinpoint. 

Something happened in this coma of Buck’s. He hasn’t told Eddie about it, but Eddie can tell when Buck holds something back from him, and right now, the questions alluding to the trippy mind puzzles speak volumes.

He collects his penance by asking for a truth in exchange for him sharing that memory, and when Buck gives it to him, his hear soars.

“Honestly, Eddie, I-I don’t know.”

Eddie tries to coax him through it, even though the reminder of Buck dying is still too painful for him.

“It’s not the physical thing, is it,” Eddie says, moving to gather ingredients for another sandwich (without mustard this time). “There’s something bothering you, something that you can’t really explain.”

“Not without being tossed into a psychiatric ward,” Buck mutters, petulant. He reminds Eddie of his son when he thinks he’s gotten away with something.

Eddie has eyes at the back of his head when it comes to his family, and he can see the toll that this is taking on Buck to hold it all in.

“Hey,” Eddie starts quietly, stacking lettuce and tomato on top of the bread. “I will always believe you, okay? You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready, but…but you can, is what I’m saying.”

Whatever he’s expecting Buck to say, it’s not: 

“You keep saying I died.”

Eddie’s eyebrows crawl into his hairline, even while those words send a sharp lance of pain through his chest. The cheese nearly slips from his fingers at the reminder, and Eddie has the thought that it would hurt less if Buck had just shot him. “Because you did, Buck.”

Buck’s already shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. But since I’ve woken up, you’re the only one that…I don’t know. You were the only one that trusted that I could move forward with it. Everyone else is…making schedules and setting up a routine, and filling my fridge with stuff. And don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for it, but I just….why? Why aren’t you doing that?”

There’s something embarrassed in Buck’s gaze, as if he’s afraid to take too much, but Eddie doesn’t know how else to explain that he’s already given everything he has over to the other man — his son included.

Eddie’s quiet for a second, mulling over how to explain this to him without revealing his whole hand.

“When we…when we rolled you into the ER, we didn’t even have your pulse. You were…” his throat closes up, but he moves past it, staring at his hands. “We managed to get you back, but it was touch and go for way too long, Buck.”

The terror at never getting Buck back swamps Eddie again, and he has to turn towards the sink under the guise of washing his hands to take a second for himself. His voice trembles, and he prays Buck doesn’t hear it as he continues. “It wasn’t like any of the other times. You were unconscious before I even got to you, before anyone could reach you. So everyone making these schedules and getting groceries and trying to help you out with things even when you’ve been cleared for those things, it’s just our way of making sure you’re still here. Making ourselves useful in exchange for some reassurance that we’re not going to feel your heart so still again.”

“But not you,” Buck repeats, just as soft.

The words hang between them, and Eddie looks out of his kitchen window as pressure builds behind his eyes.

“If it were up to me, Buck, you would never leave this house.”

It’s too silent. Buck’s shock hangs in the air right with Eddie’s confession. He thinks he owes it to Buck to be honest, too, but something about those words feel a little too honest. They feel like Eddie’s stripped the flesh from his bones and presented it all to Buck, wrapped in a lace of shaky emotion.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes out, and if Eddie listens closely, he can hear the press of tears in his voice.

“I took my turn, too, remember?” Eddie turns back to him, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. He can’t look at Buck directly, the memory of his blank eyes hovering too close to the surface. “I showed up when Maddie put me on the schedule, too, but honestly, Buck, the truth of the matter is that I know you. You were overwhelmed before you even left the hospital. You didn’t need me piling on that, even though I can’t close my eyes without seeing...without seeing you gone, sometimes.”

“You knew I’d come here.”

Eddie smiles. “I was hoping,” he corrects gently, gesturing to the couch outside. “I, at least, have a couch that fits you.”

He knows the metaphor, knows what the thinly edged meaning of his words will do to them. He thinks there’s a reason Buck feels comfortable enough to swing his feet onto Eddie’s coffee table, feels vulnerable enough to knock out the second he sits, feels safe enough to be sprawled out when he does so.

Buck turns his head, looking in the direction of it like he’s pondering the fit of two puzzle pieces, and Eddie takes advantage of his distraction to catalog every last detail about him, the way he’s started doing since Buck woke up.

“Here,” he says, sliding him a sandwich. He grabs the Brita out of the fridge and fills up the water cup, reaching for the grapes and setting those in front of him, too. “Eat.”

Buck’s still watching him like he’s looking for whatever Eddie’s hiding, but he complies, taking a huge bite out of the sandwich. Eddie watches him wolf down half of it before he sighs.

“I’ve never felt fear like that before,” he admits quietly. “I didn’t know if you would come back to us. And if I’m honest with you, sometimes, I’m terrified that I’ll look away from you and you’ll be gone again, just like you were that night. That’s why I didn’t want to hound you — I was afraid I’d never let you leave my sight again.”

Buck nods like he gets it. “But I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Eddie agrees, smiling despite himself when Buck grins around a mouthful of his sandwich. “Here and still grossing me out with your eating habits.”

Buck swallows his bite before letting out a small laugh, peeking up at Eddie from between his lashes. “It was…I saw something in the dream that was terrifying. I like it better here, anyway. With my family.”

There’s something haunted in Buck’s eyes when he talks about the dream, in the way that he trails his eyes over Christopher’s lunchbox, over the calendar on the fridge, complete with photos of Chris. There’s a raw grief that flashes in Buck’s eyes when he looks at Eddie sometimes, too, and Eddie knows that whatever the dream was about, it was something too horrifying to put in words.

Eddie knows a little bit about the horror, and while he’s desperate to get the conversation back to a place where it doesn’t feel like it’ll drag them under, he can’t resist offering one last hand.

Before he can stop himself, the word leaves his mouth. “Stay?”

Buck looks at him quizzically. “Really? I just knocked out on your couch after coming here to hang out with you. Why would you want me to stick around?”

Eddie shrugs, reaching for the zipper of Christopher’s lunch box and securing it closed. He doesn’t want to admit that it soothes him to have Buck in his line of sight. “Maybe I need the company, if you don’t.”

“I’ll tell Maddie to make you a schedule — or better yet? You can have mine,” Buck teases, but there’s something grateful in his voice, too. Something that feels a lot like the relief spreading through Eddie’s chest with warm fingers.

“So…you’ll stay? There’s still more beer if you want it,” Eddie says, jerking a thumb towards his fridge.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

It’s not until they’re seated on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels with their shoulders pressed together, that Buck elaborates.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie looks over at him, arrested by the gleaming blue of his eyes, blazing with some unknown emotion.

“You remember what I said about safe spaces?”

My therapist says everyone needs a safe space. A place where you can fully be yourself.

“Your apartment was that place,” Eddie whispers.

“It was,” Buck agrees. “It still is, sometimes. But sometimes, that’s a person and here…”

The words trail off, leaving an open-ended blank for Eddie to fill in. 

It’s obvious, in the way Buck had come to him, had dropped into sleep immediately on Eddie’s couch, and had stayed asleep for nearly an hour. It’s obvious in the way Buck had looked towards him for answers, any answers. 

It’s obvious in the thrumming tension between them, the one that stretches her arms as they grow closer. Buck’s hand twitches where it’s pressed against his knee, a bare millimeter away from Eddie’s own.

He musters up the last bit of his courage and drops his hand over Buck’s, entangling their fingers together.

If he’s Buck’s safe space, he needs Buck to know that he’s Eddie’s, too.

“Yeah, Buck. Me, too.”

Buck smiles and squeezes his hand once.

For Eddie, that’s more than enough.

[the-bar-sinister]

Fire in the Belly, Spirits on the Tongue (2698 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 1/? Characters: Koala (One Piece), Portgas D. Ace, Sabo (One Piece)

Additional Tags: Sharing a Body, Consensual Possession, Major Character Undeath, Fix-It, 3D2Y (One Piece), whitebeard critical, Fluff and Angst, Drama & Romance, Polyamory, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Ghost Portgas D. Ace, Eventual Happy Ending, Screw Destiny, Mostly Canon Compliant, Mystery Elements Summary: Luffy was right when he said that Ace lied about having no regrets. Ace had so many regrets. His spirit was restless. He wasn't ready to die.

When Sabo lay comatose he dreamed for three days. He remembered the life he'd forgotten. And he remembered a life that he'd never gotten to be a part of. When he woke up, Koala noticed right away that something was wrong. But it would take some time before she understood that it wasn't only Sabo who was there with her now.

Sabo promised that he wouldn't leave the Revolutionary army, but what will become of the three of them now that Ace is awake and alive in his heart, and more importantly, his body?

---

Luffy didn't know that even before Ace died, Luffy was the only one keeping their dream alive.

Even though Sabo— thought dead— was yet alive, he had lost his memory and with it all trace of his own dreams. 

Even though Ace had still walked the earth, all scrap of ambition had been beaten out of his body, which bore instead the mark of another man's dreams.

Luffy's older brothers had had their fires snuffed out, each in turn. 

But even ashes could reignite. 

Ace didn't know that when he fell, it would be the kindling of a new inferno.

-

Sabo wasn't sure when he had started feeling off, but at some point his chest had started to ache. When it hit him, he sank to his knees and clutched at his chest, worried for a moment that something was terribly wrong. That he was dying. That there was something he had to remember.

But a soothing warmth seemed to fill him after the pain faded and he felt like someone was reassuring him that it would be alright. He still felt like there was something that he was forgetting, but that was often the case. He was sure that it wasn't anything he wanted to remember.

He was almost sure.

-

Koala had gone through the day with one eye on Sabo and an ever mounting series of questions.

Sabo had always been a bit of an odd duck. Amnesiac, flamboyantly reckless, and relentlessly charming even with his sometimes infuriating attitude— but all day he'd beenmuch odder than normal as they prepared for another intelligence gathering expedition on the mainland. It was their specialty together after all. She'd spent the day bustling about the ship, checking black transponder snails, compiling reports and the survey squad's intelligence. But Sabo was off his game, and she wasn't sure it was all just distraction. Eventually she couldn't take the curiosity any longer.

After their shared dinner and a bit of whispered information back and forth, she sat back with her drink and puffed out her cheeks with a sigh. "...so with all that said, I think we should investigate the ports tomorrow, Sabo." 

Sabo was rubbing his chest, frowning when he looked up at her. HIs dark eyes looked distant and unfocused. "Hmm? Sorry— I didn't catch that."

As much as Koala gave him a hard time— he was usually sharp, and didn't often ignore her. If he had been the type to do that, they wouldn't have been as close as they were. Seeing him like this was concerning.

Her brow furrowed under her hat, and she nervously reached up to adjust her goggles. 

"You're acting really weird today, Sabo. I was talking to you about tomorrow's mission. The smuggling operations? Remember? You seem like you're a thousand miles away right now." 

He smiled softly at her with a trace of embarrassment, and she saw him rub his chest again, but then put his hands in his lap, as if self-conscious. "Sorry about that, Koala. You're right, I feel a thousand miles away. Thanks for dragging me back to earth before you needed to chokeslam me back to it."

"Normally I'd think about it, just to clear your head," she pouted with a nervous cross of her arms. "But you look like a stiff breeze is about to keel you over— you keep rubbing your chest, are you having heart trouble? Should I get the doc?"

They bantered all the time, Sabo would do something dumb, she'd whack him on the back of the head or kick him in the ass; playfully, never enough to really hurt. It was their routine ever since they began working together.

A couple of weird runaways who found themselves in the care of the Revolutionary Army. A former slave and a man without a past. They'd been paired up fairly early, and despite her rough manner and tendency to tease and cajole him— Koala had long felt soft, affectionate feelings for the man.

She cared about him deeply. As far more than a friend and a comrade in the cause. They'd fallen into a routine together, and into each other's' arms years ago. They had never exactly put a name on their relationship, though other people did plenty, teasing them about dating or calling them married. But they were just… together. Sabo and Koala.

If something was wrong with him, she deserved to know about it.

But he held up his hands and shook his head. "It's fine. My chest just kind of hurt earlier. But I've been keeping an eye on it. I think it might have just been indigestion. "

"Indigestion," Koala said incredulously. "Sabo, you're a revolutionary agent. I've never seen you so distracted you barely listen to me from indigestion before. And I know your eating habits!"

She pointed a finger at him. "...what kind of pain?" 

By now the other officers who had been lingering around the table had departed, the very last stragglers apparently deciding it was a good idea to give the two of them space to do whatever they were going to do (probably have an argument.) Sabo didn't even look like he'd noticed yet.

"Uh. I don't know? It could have been heartburn."

"Heartburn," she repeated slowly. "...alright, so you've got heartburn. Really distracting heartburn. I think the doc has something for that, you know."

She didn't exactly believe him. In fact, her worry was growing even stronger. The slightly confused, 'dodging the question' sort of way he was talking was starting to make her worry he was about to drop dead from some kind of mysterious malady or something.

"You've been out of it this whole planning session, Sabo. I don't even know if you remember what we're doing in the morning." 

Sabo smiled insistently and shifted to put his arm around her shoulders. 

"I was just distracted, Koala. Come on, let's really dig into this planning thing. The smuggling. It— it is a smuggling thing, right?"

Koala held back on her twitch response to elbow him lightly in the ribs for forgetting, and instead thumped her shoulder against him in a cuddle. "...I said that about two minutes ago, but yeah. It's a smuggling thing. Remember anything else?"

It was more than a smuggling thing. Someone was moving supplies from Paradise into the New World through Saboady…Devil Fruits, weapons…and slaves.

He leaned his chin on his hand and smiled at her, his golden curls framing his face. "Bring me up to speed again? And you can beat me with a spoon if you want for not listening. Maybe you can beat the ache out of my chest."

Koala huffed, flushing gently as she looked up at him. He really did have a handsome smile. A very handsome smile for a handsome man. Ever since they'd met as teenagers they'd been attached at the hi— and that stupid handsome smile of his hadn't changed a bit.

She did grab a spoon and whapped him on the arm for good measure though. He kind of deserved it— and maybe it'd distract him from whatever was plaguing his chest.

"There! But geeze, Sabo…you're hopeless. Remember that whole thing in Saboady? The one where a bunch of the Worst Generation took down the Human Auction House and caused a huge incident? Remember how it caused a huge destabilization in the slave and underground goods trade there, giving us a good opening to hopefully find a lead to some of the people behind it before it burrows back underground?" 

Sabo was more attentive now, and whatever was bothering him— whether it was really his chest or something else— seemed to have subsided. Koala was pleased to discover that he hadn't actually missed most of the important bits even despite his distraction, and they quickly managed to make up for lost time in their discussion of the planning.

Once they'd agreed to break for the evening, he kissed her cheek. "I hope I didn't upset you too much."

Koala's expression softened as she looped both arms around him in a hug he always teased was 'a lot like her namesake', smiling warmly at him. 

"I wasn't exactly upset, Sabo. I'm just worried. You worry me sometimes, you know."

"Me?" He gave her a mock scandalized look as he peered teasingly back. "I can't imagine why I'd worry anybody."

He rested his chin on the top of her head— an infuriating (nearly) ten inches taller than her and always making use of it.

He was a beanpole of a man, and she always threatened…one day she'd have another inexplicable growth spurt and rest her chin on HIS head. 

Of course she knew it wasn't really going to happen. She nuzzled his chest with a snort. "It's because of that attitude that you worry everybody, Sabo. Dummy."

"Oh now it's not just you that's worried it's everybody, hmm?" He wrapped his arms around her in return, rocking her gently from side to side.

"I'm just the one who pokes you about it, because I care so much." She nuzzled her nose against him with a half smile. "But I've had to listen to like…a dozen lectures to 'keep Sabo out of trouble', and you still haven't made it easy for me." 

Sabo tugged the curling bottoms of the locks of her hair as he often did. "That many, huh? I guess I should stay out of trouble just to make sure you don't have to hear them."

She was only mildly exaggerating, of course. It was a common 'tease' for people to put her in charge of keeping an eye on the Revolutionary Army's wildcard number two officer. Lots of 'you're basically married anyway' jokes layered on top of a genuine request to just… be there for him.

She would have been there anyway, even without them harping on about it. She squeezed him a little tighter, bumping her head against his chest. 

"I think if you started staying out of trouble I'd start to worry it wasn't you," she teased. "So I'll keep dealing with you as you are…my big pain in the butt." 

He cupped her chin with his gloved hand. "I'm lucky to have you watching out for me."

-

The next morning over breakfast as everyone filtered in for the reports and briefings before heading out, all anyone was chatting about the news from Marineford.

Koala had awoken as a woman on a mission— she'd gotten up early to do a last check of the supplies she'd need to set off towards land with Sabo, she'd gotten a little work in on the punching bag before Hack had even gotten up, and she'd grabbed Sabo and gotten to the canteen for coffee just in time for the first cups to be handed out.

It was one of the days where she felt ready for anything— ready to make a difference. But as the morning wore on, and the more of her comrades she chattered with, the more she heard about the recent event that rocked the world.

The execution in Marineford was on everyone's lips. Every new detail heard from co-commanders and away-team operatives like herself, was more horrifying and shocking than the last.

"They say they saw Iva there!" was a sting of hope, followed by "they deployed weapons that looked like Kuma… just like him I swear".

It was a travesty, a sign of the World Government's sickening injustice, one she checked as soon as she could snatch a paper for herself. The execution of a young man, 'Ace', a captain of Whitebeard's crew, was front page news, blown up into a humiliating circus that devolved into an all out, world shaking war. All because of the boy's blood.

She felt sick when she read the details, the pointless death, and the actions taken by the Admirals and their superiors. She had handed the paper off to the next person to return to her coffee with a muttering of the injustice inherent to the World Government's system.

Even the Warlords were involved. 

When she turned to ask Sabo what he thought she saw him holding the paper so tightly that he looked like he was about to tear it in half. He was white as a sheet.

"....." Koala nearly fell out of her chair in her rush to her feet, hopping over to him and grabbing him by the shoulders "Sabo? Sabo what's the matter?" 

It was like he couldn't hear her at all.

Then a horrible noise ripped from his throat.

-

Sabo had mostly shaken off the strange sense of unease from the day before when he held the paper in his hands. 

Everything went quiet around him as he locked eyes with the face on the front page. 

It would only be in hindsight that he remembered what people were talking about.

That they were talking about Ace.

In the moment there was only Ace's smile on the page, and the sudden knowledge that he was dead, and the sudden knowledge that he had been alive— that he had been important.

And the feeling like something had punched a hole through his chest.

My brother!

The world went white for a moment.

Sabo made a strangled noise.

His knees gave out.

My brother!

Ace made a strangled noise.

The world went black.

-

Koala sat by Sabo's bedside as other visitors came and went. His breathing was shallow, but regular, like he was asleep. Only no one had been able to wake him. Not for hours and hours.

Her heart hadn't slowed since the moment he crumpled to the ground in the galley. She sat by his bedside, checking his temperature— too high!--- at regular intervals when she wasn't twisting and squeezing the fabric of her hat in her lap, or freshening the damp cloth on his forehead.

The first hour she'd cried, cried in terror and confusion with each failed attempt to wake him up.

The second hour she'd resolved to stay RIGHT THERE by his side until he woke up. Damn the mission…; damn everything except him.

The third hour she'd gotten worried. She'd started to think. What drove him into the depths of sleep? Was it a coma? Was it that 'chest pain' from yesterday? Or was it whatever specter he'd seen in the paper— he'd only started freaking out when he'd seen the front page, right?

But as far as she knew he didn't know anyone involved. How could he? Sabo hadn't had a memory of anything past the day he was picked up by the Revolutionary Army.

"Oh Sabo…" she whispered as she twisted her hat in her hands again. "...If you don't wake up, I'll bop you!"

The halfhearted threat, as expected, didn't work. And instead she let her head drop on his chest with a low whine. "Please don't die." 

-

He dreamed two dreams, and remembered two lives that were lived apart.

When he woke it was with two thoughts in his mind.

Ace is dead! // Sabo is alive!

For a moment he struggled to untangle the dream from the memory— which was the life he had lived and which was the one he imagined for his brother.

Ace was dead.

Ace was dead, so that meant he had to be Sabo, right?

That seemed to follow.

He let his eyes open and blinked rapidly for a moment, trying to determine where he was.

Koala was already halfway on top of him, he discovered as he felt her weight. She was babbling something about him leaving, and he found himself reassuring her that he would not.

Sabo was alive. For some reason that thought had equal weight in his mind as the fact that Ace was dead. Both left him reeling. It must have been the fact that all of a sudden he realized that Ace and Luffy must have thought that he was dead.

Ace must have died thinking that Sabo was already dead. That soon they'd be together again.

We are together again.

Sabo didn't understand where the thought came from as he choked back a sob while Koala embraced him.

[laundrybiscuits]

(purify our misfit ways tag | AO3)

After the ultimate betrayal that is her best friend experiencing some kind of gay apotheosis about Steve Harrington, Robin’s in no mood to put up with any shenanigans from that quarter.

“How’d you meet Eddie, anyway?”

Ah, so the shenanigans will be starting early today. Robin marshalls all the authority she can muster in knee-high socks and turns to him, hands on her hips.

“Hey, dingus! Did you forget what I said just the other day about harassing him?”

“How am I harassing him? He’s not even here! You sure he’s not your boyfriend? Because you’re sounding kinda—” Steve breaks off and snaps his fingers. “Wait, you totally want him to be your boyfriend, don’t you? That’s why you’re being so weird.”

Robin thumps her head against the display case. She’ll have to clean up the smudge later, but right now it is vitally important that she express her pain in some concrete way.

“How many times do I need to tell you, no. Not my boyfriend, and I wouldn’t date him if he were the last person on earth.”

“C’mon, Robin. I know I’m not, like, your favorite person, but I get it. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“The words for how far you are from getting it have yet to be invented in any language,” Robin informs him. “If getting it is here in Hawkins, you are on the other side of Alpha Centauri and getting lightyears farther every second. We’ve sent probes after you, but they’ve fallen prey to decay while attempting to traverse the vast distances between you and getting it.”

“Sure,” Steve drawls, patronizingly. “Whatever you say.” Robin thumps her head against the display case a few more times for good measure.

Steve doesn’t tease her about his extremely wrong assumptions, like she’d expected. It’s much worse: he’s supportive.

“You know, it’s pretty cool that you’re, like, smart. Plenty of guys are into that.”

“Ew,” Robin says. “Please don’t hit on me.”

“What—I’m not! I’m saying, I bet Eddie likes smart girls.”

“Bet you a million bucks he doesn’t,” says Robin flatly.

Also, in her experience, guys do not in fact like smart girls; it doesn’t really matter to her either way, because she bets it would also suck to have a bunch of guys into her for real, but her kind of smarts have only ever made her a target for bruised egos. Kinda funny that Steve Harrington, the guy with the biggest ego she’s ever come across, doesn’t get that.

Maybe it’s not really ego, though. She thinks about the stilted half-truths he’s dropped about his current circumstances; he’s clearly having the worst summer of his life and not exactly coping the best anyone’s ever coped, but he doesn’t seem to be taking it out on anyone else.

Well, she assumes he’s not. It’s not like she knows what he gets up to outside Scoops, but…nobody ever comes to visit him at Scoops. She wonders if his friends even know he’s working here, or that he has to work in the first place.

So if he’s mad and frustrated about his whole situation, and Robin can’t imagine not being mad and frustrated about his whole situation, he’s either being incredibly professional and keeping his temper tantrums to his off-hours, or he’s gone through some kind of evolution. She’s honestly not sure which one’s more likely, even though professional and Steve Harrington should never belong in the same sentence, ever.

She definitely wouldn’t describe him as evolved, though. Case in point: his attempts to be subtle about her alleged romantic inclinations towards Eddie.

“Sometimes, guys are just nervous,” Steve says halfway through their next shift. “I mean, that’s why they might not ask someone out, even if she’s awesome.”

“Please never talk again,” says Robin.

“I’m not talking about anyone special!” Steve holds up his hands, wide-eyed and faux-guileless. “Just, I bet if a girl wanted a guy to ask her out, it would speed things up a lot if she dropped some hints. Give him some hope. That kind of thing.”

She bikes over to Eddie’s place straight from her shift, fueled by new heights of exasperation.

She’s been spending a lot of time there this summer. It’s strange and exciting to have a friend who basically lives alone; she’s met Wayne Munson once or twice, but only ever in passing, and he doesn’t seem to have any rules about how Eddie has to behave in the trailer. Eddie’s never worried about breaking stuff or being home at certain times. He doesn’t even seem to clean up after himself if he doesn’t feel like it. His bedroom floor could probably use a bucket of bleach, or maybe a lit match, but it’s his choice to keep it that way.

Robin is barely seventeen, and that kind of freedom seems so impossibly far away. Of course she knocks on Eddie’s door whenever she gets the chance.

“He’s being nice about it,” she says when he opens the door.

“About…?” Eddie doesn’t ask who he is.

“About how we’re, like, the tragic untold love story of the ages!”

A week ago, she might’ve felt too awkward to refer to anything about romance between them, despite…everything they’ve disclosed. God, she can’t even say the words in her own head unless she works up to it first. Eddie’s been really great about giving her space and not making her talk about it; even aside from The Steve Incident, though, he’s started mentioning stuff about guys now and then. Just little stuff, like thinking actors are cute or whatever. She thinks he might be doing it to reassure her that he wasn’t lying about being gay, which is hilarious because now that she’s looking for it, the whole thing seems really obvious. It’s less hilarious because she knows she’s been slow at working her way back to being totally comfortable with him, hence why she wouldn’t have brought up the idea of them together even a week ago.

That was before two full shifts of Steve Harrington’s well-intentioned meddling pushed her to the breaking point, though. She doesn’t have time to feel weird about things, she needs to complain to her best friend. So hey, in a sense, maybe Steve Harrington did help their relationship after all—not that she’s about to give him any points for trying.

“Eddie,” she says, grabbing his shoulders. “Steve is a visual learner. I need you to help me demonstrate to him, once and for all, how we have zero chemistry. Whatever the opposite of chemistry is, that’s what we have. Steve needs to learn this, visually, so that he will stop trying to convince me I’m a total catch and can definitely lure you in with my feminine wiles.”

She looks him in the eye and digs her fingers in, just in case he tries to make a run for it. “Eddie. I need you to come back to Scoops.”

[jakeyt]

Distorted Hues

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Summary: Sometimes, you have to do a lot to try to get to the top. But things go downhill quickly when you try to explain to Danny why you do the things you do to get there. You had good reason for what you did, he just refused to understand.

Warnings: marijuana use; a lot of angst; mentions of cheating and sexual situations; allusions to depression; a reader who is truly struggling to be emotionally available

Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: when i saw the pictures of him that i used for my cover, i was instantly inspired to write angry Danny. i couldn't stop thinking about it. so, when gvf posted this tiktok, the story hit me like a freight train. i mean, Danny saying "I'll get right fuckin' on it" (iykyk 🫠🥵). . . that was the final push.

and so, Distorted Hues was born.

enjoy!

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From the moment you’d made your way to a sit on the lap of a rotund, balding producer who’d (strangely) attended Woodstock, you knew he’d been watching you. Every move you made, Danny watched.

His dark eyes had been burning ruthless holes into your back the entire time. 

You’d always been able to feel his eyes. Even as far back as when you were kids. He’d watch you like a hawk when a teacher would scold you for bad behavior, or anytime you were hanging out with a group of friends at recess that he was (or wasn’t) included in. He had always hated the idea of you being in any sort of trouble. He had been your number one protector since you met each other on the first day of fourth grade.

You knew him like the back of your hand. And your body was accustomed to every movement he made, so you were completely in tune with it when you felt his eyes leave you. And when you glanced up to see where he’d gone, he was on his way to the tour bus. You could feel the anger radiating off of him from yards away. 

So, when he trudged back to the bus, you felt obligated to follow his lead. See it out. It made you absolutely furious that he couldn’t understand. No matter how many times you’d explained your (admittedly, slightly inappropriate) behavior with higher ups, he acted like a child. 

But you felt the need to explain yourself once more to this precious man you’d loved for most of your life. He had to understand. 

You hit the bong of a random Woodstock attender on your way to the bus. It made you amble behind your drummer boyfriend just a bit more, but you didn’t give two shits.

And still, you thought you were a good girlfriend. Because even amidst your burgeoning high, you wanted him to get some sort of explanation. You could have decided to sit with the group you’d taken the hit from. But you didn’t. 

Initially, you had felt bad for ignoring Danny to get a little high. But, the compliment you got from the dreadlocked man whose bong you'd borrowed? It was worth it. Better than the marijuana he’d given you. He had offered slurred praises of your band’s set and performance from that day. . . 

For a moment, it had made you forget any worry about Daniel and his moody behavior. 

You were always overjoyed to know when people had noticed (and adored) your talent. You thrived off of that recognition. You always had.

Ever since you were little, you’d lapped up every piece of fawning you received. Whether it was a middle school play you’d performed in, or today’s performance of yours at Woodstock. . . It was worth it. You’d always worked so hard — especially for this. Your burgeoning fame.

As had he. And he needed to finally understand why you’d been doing what he’d seen you doing.

“Quit acting like a fucking baby, Daniel,” you shut the door behind you, not caring that your tone was sharp. You stomped your way over to where he was pacing back and forth in your touring van, biting his lip in contemplation. He had a hand to his chin. “I know what you saw. I was literally just trying to help us. You know this.”

Your words were ever-so-slightly slurred. The marijuana you’d just consumed was settling in your system, making life hazy. But no matter how foggy you felt, his anger seeped through the haze. 

Damn him. Now all you wanted was this fucking high. Screw him and his pointless worries.

“I’m so fuckin’ tired of you ‘helping’ us, y/n. You don’t have to do it by hanging all over every man who has a fancy title,” he turned to face you. He crossed his arms over his chest. “And it makes me a baby? Because I get pissed when I see you, my beautiful girlfriend, being a tease to all of these random ass men? You know they want you and you want that if it gets you famous. Even if it means sacrificing us. Fuck, y/n.”

You huffed, your high feeling distorted and wrong. “No. That’s not it,” you pointed a finger up in his face. “I’m getting us ahead. You hear all of those people on that stage out there? I’m making us like them,” You leveled him by placing your hands on your hips. You stood your ground. “It’s what we want.”

He gave a sarcastic sigh and shook his head, “No, it’s what you want. You’d want to fuck a man to put me in a Hollywood studio? The man who loves you, fame or no fame. . . That seems a little shitty to me,” He shoved his way past you. “No thanks, babe. I’ll pass on that one.”

You were starting to think the weed had been laced with something as the high you were getting wasn’t settling the way it normally would have with regular green. You sat down on the little couch next to you. 

He glanced over at you in your state and couldn’t help walking over to check on you. His big, brown eyes were investigating your face. He knelt in front of you, and placed his hands on your knees. 

His beautiful, dark brown doe eyes stared up at you through his lightly tinted shades, lovingly. “You okay?” He rubbed at your bare knees. 

Normally, him caring for you would make you get so hot you’d make him carry you to the nearest bed. But at this moment? All you wanted to do was push him off and not look anywhere near him. 

So you did just that. 

“I’m fine, Danny,” you swayed a little as you found your footing, tramping away from him. Your heavy footing shook the unsteady floor of the van. 

You crossed your arms in an act of self defense. You knew you’d been wrong for pushing him away, but you were so far gone. Your stubbornness always kicked in when you were inebriated. 

You faced him. 

You looked him up and down. And dammit if he wasn’t the most stunning man. His white button down exposing his muscular, tanned chest. The bit of chest hair he had peeking out from the open lapels. 

His tight, chocolate curls were mesmerizing.

You didn’t approve of your line of thought, but you still spoke it into the taut air stuck between you and your longtime confidant. 

“Why don’t you go do it?” You shook your head, instantly regretting your words. And it was as though you couldn’t stop the words that came next. There was a wiser version of you saying ‘stop!’ in the back of your mind, but you continued. “You go out there and find a girl who could help us get somewhere. And then fuck her till she can’t walk. Sex with you, baby. . .fuck,” you grinned in spite of the foul words you were uttering, thinking about what it felt like to have him inside of you. You felt the wise version of you crumbling with each suggestion you made. You wanted to stop yourself, but the devil on your shoulder kept you going. “She’ll do anything you ask after that. You hold a lot of power—more than you know. Take one for the team, Danny. If you don’t want me to be the one to do it, you do it.”

You hated every word. You wanted to bite them all back. But you made no action that made it seem that way. Your body felt completely empty. . .yet so heavy, full of lead. 

You were weighted in your spot. 

You saw the exact moment his face and chest deflated, losing hope. You’d never seen him in such a way. It broke you. “Do you hear yourself?!” He took a couple steps back from you. “You’d sacrifice our whole relationship for that?” He motioned between you, then decided to come closer to you, still. “All of this—us. . .For silly fame?” 

You didn’t want to speak your next words. But still, you did. You didn’t know what had suddenly come over you. 

“I don’t want this,” you made a mocking motion of his previous one. Not true. You knew it. You couldn’t live without him. “I want the music. Don’t be selfish, Danny. You’re fucking sexy. Use it. If you love me, do it.”

His jaw clenched. He was done. You could tell. His fists were flexing at his sides. He was livid. Though, you still knew he’d never hit you. That wasn’t this man. 

He would, however, punch the next thing in sight, after leaving the area you occupied. Even in his hurt, he refused to scare you. 

This perfect man you didn’t deserve. . .

You felt tears well in your throat, but you were so lost to the moment, you knew they wouldn’t fall until later when you reflected on this, alone. 

Without him. How without him, though? Would he be completely gone? Would he leave you?

What in the hell had you even said? You shook your head, already not being able to completely recall what you’d said. 

You leaned against the nearest counter top, putting your palms against it to balance you. 

You watched him take long, heavy strides. You expected them to be to you, to check to see if you were alright. Just like always. 

But instead, he went to the door. He whipped it open. 

He gave you one last look. 

“I’ll get right fuckin’ on it,” he spat in your direction. Every ounce of venom possible sat in his tone.

And then the door slammed, you flinched at the sound. He had left you. Completely alone. 

Alone was how you’d cry later when the tears actually came to you. 

When the high was gone. 

Would Danny be gone when the high eventually left? Your chest hurt at the thought. 

Your heart actually ached for him. It was already missing him. You’d never been away from each other for more than a week—in all of the years you’d known one another. 

What in the hell had you done?

You slid down to the around, leaning your head against the cabinet door behind you. You decided you’d take a quick nap against the cabinet. 

Your thoughts were suddenly gone, washed from your mind. 

You were empty. 

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a/n: hope you felt allll of the emotions i did while i was writing it :') also, i am very mad at reader for hurting precious Daniel.

[guardian-angel12]

Silver Stars(Fanficlet)

Noises of the calm night carried on the breeze as the Guardians sat outside, finally they'd caught a break and were enjoying just a small moment of peace. 

Phyla and Adam were clicking around on Rocket's Zune as Kraglin watched the stars. So many silver specks glowing from somewhere far off. 

The song that they'd started playing was pretty mellow, a slow tune that he recognized. 

"Hey, hand me that?" He held his hand out and Phyla passed him the device. 

As he listened, a dull throb went through his chest and he smirked a little. "This was one of my sister's favorite songs..." 

Both Phyla and Adam looked at him, questions behind their eyes. "I didn't know you have a sister." Phylla said. "Is she older than you?" 

He took a moment to answer, Rocket shifted in the corner of his eye, suddenly very interested in something at his feet. 

"Had." Kraglin hated the word. "And no, she was my baby sister." He smiled fondly at referring to her that way. 

Adam looked down then back up again, and Phyla frowned. "What was her name?" she asked. 

"Tess. She was the best. Smart and strong and brave... Prettiest girl in the world, with her silver eyes. And when she wanted something," he chuckled softly to himself at the memories. "she could make 'em so big and incessant you just had to do it." 

"She sounds like a wonderful person." Adam said. 

"You don't know the half of it." He paused, looking back up. Rocket still remained quiet, being the only one here that would truly know, truly understand in any way. "Today would mark sixteen years ago, when I met her. Now she's been gone for three." 

Cosmo's ears twitched as she sensed his sadness, and she whined quietly.

"I'm sorry, you just miss her." Adam said softly. 

"More than anything." And that was true. He'd never loved anyone the way he'd loved her, and never found anyone he could confide in like her again. There was a moment he was angry at her for leaving him, but then wondered if she was finally at peace. 

The next song started playing and he nearly choked at the first words. 

And I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow. 

It hit hard, and there were moments when he'd considered just ending it all and being with her again. But she'd made him promise to be there for Peter, Rocket, all of them. And he was trying. 

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now. 

And all I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life, and sooner or later it's over. I just don't wanna miss you tonight. 

He closed his eyes tight, fighting back the fresh wave of emotion as Adam and Phyla watched, silent knowing that it was a tender situation, but Cosmo laid her head in his lap and that offered some comfort. "She would have liked you guys."  he managed to get out. 

Rocket nodded in approval. 

And I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand when everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am. 

Sometimes the memories were too much, thinking back on those days before he'd lost Yondu and lost the person she'd been—the person he'd been—before. And he'd find himself drinking until he couldn't remember clearly. But those days were something he'd never forget, not when they were truly the best. 

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming or the moment of truth in your eyes. When everything feels like the movies yeah you bleed just to know you're alive. 

All he could really hope now, was that she was happy. Finally not fighting and living the half-tortured existence and maybe she'd found a better place. He liked to believe that she was on the other side and Yondu and Gamora were there with her and one day... one day soon enough he'd see her again. 

Sometimes he thought he heard her voice, or even saw her. Felt her hand in the dark when no one was there to see the pain, but he knew she would want him to keep living. Keep doing the good she tried to do. Uphold the legacy they'd started together. 

Rocket's small hand on his wrist holding the Zune startled him a bit, but he just said softly, "She'd be proud of ya." His mahogany eyes were glassy as he nodded in emphasis. "I know she would." 

Kraglin sighed to himself and looked back up, knowing she was ashes amongst those stars. 

I just want you to know who I am. 

"I love you, little pest." he whispered, not able to be heard by the others but he felt like some silver star out in the distance glimmered when he said it. And he could practically see her smiling on the other side. 

I just want you to know who I am.

{for anyone curious to the fanfiction here’s the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/340959868?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=ArchangelOfZion&wp_originator=QiIvzfeQs73AyeCc7bjdBwJItre%2BcMbYXhguypIsim2Ueyj%2FiyRqtBEEYmJZW9hIiHWC8zcoQ%2F2dsEXbnSriwfhzO5c9S8fHvqzxXqoec%2FOQZB47ZIM1la%2F8RlmlI5%2Bp I’ll have it up on AO3 soon}

[fandom-imagination-ss]

Imagine: Sayid realizing he cares for you

“THAT’S NOT HOW IT GOES!” you were screaming at Charlie as he was using the homemade baboon stick that you carefully created to be a Hockey stick. which. was a very basically just a stick. but you also knew. it didn’t matter. but Charlie was using the stick to hit Harley. you laughed as Claire was not far off feeding Charlie. you hated Golf- and you weren’t a huge fan of Hockey but it was your homeland’s game. and after being abandoned on an island for weeks. you were homesick and hockey reminded you of your brothers. and how they would tackle you on the pond outside your house. and how you learned to skate before you could walk. Hockey was imprinted into your soul. even if you couldn’t stand watching a game. 

It was a rare day that Jack, Kate, and Sawyer were gone. and Kate was left at the beach. Sayid was watching from a distance. as the hockey game turned into a sword fight between you, Charlie, and Hurley. Since landing on this horrible Island Sayid always took extra attention to you. he would help you whenever he could. those who didn’t need much help you were strong and figured out how to make a decent enough shelter and you had a good method to collect firewood in the morning and were helpful to the other stranded. Like Hurley Everyone adored you. Sawyer Once called you a “Princess’ which you suckered pouched him into correcting you were a Queen Not a Princess. you were Soft as a marshmallow but you weren’t weak. and that’s what Sayid loved about you. you were a consent light at camp. Even after the crash, you waited to cry until After everyone was Safe and you were alone. Sayid walked in on your crying but he left you alone not wanting to overstep. Or when Boone died. you helped Sharone and were a Rock. until you didn’t need to be. Sayid almost lost it when you and Clarie were taken for four weeks. 

Everyone has convinced the others killed you and Claire. But when they saved you. you were covered in bruises and claire said you fought every day to get them back. Sayid seeing you covered in bruises was convinced that would break your light. that the sunshine that shined in you. would be destroyed but you woke the next morning and you shinned even brighter. It amazed Sayid that you could be Prue-hearted even after all that has happened. But had No problem telling Sawyer or Jack to stuff their macho act down their throats and that you weren’t doing anything you didn’t want to do. 

Sayid’s mind went back to when you discovered his past. how Everyone reacted. they were scared of him and wanted him out of the camp. you found him instantly asking how he was doing. he was stunned you could show compassion to him. you pulled him into a hug saying they forget different countries’ different rules. you pulled back from him stunned saying people forget that sometimes people have to do horrible things. because they have no choice. because their country doesn’t have Freedom. that threw him to a curve and since then. Sayid has been spinning whenever he saw you. 

“you know. I think Hurley likes her.” 

Sayid turned to Claire as she walked over and sat down to look at the scene. the three of you now we’re acting like children. which made a smile creep onto Sayid’s mouth. Claire has noticed- the Entire camp has noticed Sayid’s big Doe eyes for you. Even the others who were Still watching from afar realized that you would be he’s spot point. if they ever had to torment or Hurt him. get you. Everyone on the island Knew! well- expect you. you figured if anyone had a crush on anyone it was Sayid with Kate.

“They would be perfect today,” Sayid commented watching the scene going. you were now trying to teach them again how to play Hockey. as Claire spoke, “I don’t know- I think you and her would be better.” Sayid turned to his friend as she smiled, “tell her.” 

“She is too good for me.’ 

Just then they heard a Roar. a loud Roar.. the polar bears. Charlie Dashed over to Claire and the baby. while hurley jumped as Kate and Sayid dashed down the hill closer to their friends on the beach as Sayid put himself in front of the you grabbing your stick fast to defend them. then Nothing. the bear didnt’ show up, it didn’t growl again nothing. you gripped Sayid’s shoulder, “jesus- we got to kill that bear!” 

Everyone on the island wanted to steer clear from the bear. you and Sawyer were the only two who wanted to Kill it. Sawyer for the pride and glory of killing a bear. you wanted to kill it for the Meat and for his fur. the fur would keep you warm at night. A Science teacher on the island suggested the bear probably had some chemicals in it. and it would be deadly. after eating Just fish basically for three months. you were willing to be a test dummy. But two people. With One Hand gun. Not enough gun power to go after a bear.

“do you even know how to Skin and make it a rug?” 

“Between me and Lock we could figure out how to Dry it properly. i think it hangs to dry for like a month and you put a lacker or something on it.” 

“Do you have the lacker?” Sayid’s voice was teasing as you rolled your eyes, “we could figure it out! your Smart. Lock is A Island Guru. between the three of us we could figure it out. Just imagine. when it’s freezing at Night. we curl up under a nice fur blanket.” 

Sayid’s mind instantly went to that image. holding you as you both slept under the fur. but his mind instantly went to kissing your shoulder and the activies changing. he has pulled away from that dream. when Hurley said why would they get the Bear fur. 

“If I’m Risking my life. I’m not passing around the fur. Sawyer would get it once and never return it.” 

Hurley rolled his eyes as Kat reminded everyone we weren’t going after the bear. the party spilt up after Claire said the baby needed a nap, so they walked off. and Kate took Hurley with her to leave you both alone. you picked up the sticks as Sayid asked how it was going teaching them. hockey. 

“It’s Not that hard of a game.. I don’t understand why they aren’t getting it. Sawyer and Jack would kill each other with this game.” he chuckled seeing that would probably happen. you turned to Sayid shaking your head, “i truthfully hate the game but it reminds me of home.. and the cold- my brothers” 

“you will see them again. i swear.” you nodded your head you sat down as Sayid followed as you looked at the sea. ‘in school, we read this book. about a girl and a dolphin she was young when she was on a boat that crashed and she ended up on a island by herself for years. when she was saved she couldn’t comform back into society. It be weird going back to my home. Back to my bed and waking up and Not looking over at your camp site to see if your moving for the day yet.” 

“you look at my campsite why?” 

you smiled shaking your head, “remember when we first saw the smoke we were in the woods alone. finding vines. and food. and that smoke appeared you didn’t hesitate to use your body to shield me. I know you would do that to everyone here. but it’s- Jack is the leader- everyone has a role in our little society but you.. I do know. I feel better Knowing if your up or Not.. it’s weird..” 

you laughed trying to forget about this conversation, anything would be better. your heart was beating fast as he spoke, ‘I look over at your camp before I go into bed. normally you are already in a deep sleep. snoring.” you laughed at that as he chuckled as he spoke, ‘I don’t go to my bed until I know your safe in yours.’ you smiled nudging him weakly as you felt yourself rest your head on his shoulder, he smiled feeling it as he spoke, “if your- Cold at night.. we can combine our campsites.

chuckling softly you spoke “first people wine and Dine before moving in together.”  Sayid chuckled as he spoke, ‘Saving us some time..” you chuckled as he grabbed your hand softly lacing your fingers together as he spoke, ‘I will do whatever your comfortable with.” 

“Oh dangerous statement I could want it all. the whole nine yards.” Sayid chuckled softly saying that was perfectly fine with him.” you smiled brightly as you spoke, ‘be safer.. and warmer.. moving in together.” he chuckled saying  

“I love you.” 

you smiled brightly reaching up kissing his hceek, “about time you noticed me.” 

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest 2023 - Day Four

Solemn

Warnings: I’m not sure. None I think. Angst?

Word count: 980

Pairing: Natasha and Pepper

This was written for a friend, going through something I couldn’t and can’t understand but hope that they know that even though friends can’t always know how we are feeling, there’s a solace in them being there for us when they can. <3 shared with permission, as it was written for them.

Pepper finds her sitting by herself, legs dangling, hands holding onto the mug.

“Hey,” she announces her presence as to not to startle her.

She should know, that Natasha already knew she was coming. She doesn’t even flinch at her voice.

“Hey,” the quiet voice comes back.

Pepper feels a bit lost in what to do next, but continues to move forward, though uninvited.

“Can I sit?” she asks, motioning to the space next to Natasha, even though there’s seats all around the library.

The almost imperceptible nod grants Pepper access.

She moves forward again, and plants herself next to her friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers.

Pepper almost hears Natasha swallow her grief as the predictable shaking of her head comes soon after.

“Okay,” she says.

They sit together as Natasha takes a tentative sip.

Pepper smells the chocolate and remembers that Natasha doesn’t drink caffeine.

She has no idea how, but the woman seems to always be able to be alert and responsive, whereas she requires a full 8 hours and caffeine drip to be functional.

“There was this coffee shop once,” she starts, “and the only thing I got there was this Italian hot chocolate.”

Natasha is listening, always listening, but doesn’t respond.

“I used to think I’d get it for special occasions, not indulge, but it was the most delicious drink I’d ever had. Almost like pure hot chocolate with creamy milk and the right amount of sugar.”

She kicks her feet out, finding them dangling like Natasha’s, enjoying the movement.

“I’d been away, and it was all I wanted. I was gleeful on the plane, wanting to just have the smooth aroma, the sugar hit, and the sweet taste of chocolate.”

Pepper feels the sadness hit, as she always does when she thinks of the hot chocolate.

“But the shop had shut down when I finally arrived back. No forwarding address, no note, just.. Gone.”

She stops her movement and looks to Natasha.

“Silly I know, in the grand scheme of things, but it was something I wanted. Something that I looked forward to. And then, it was something I couldn’t have anymore.”

Natasha nods.

In that moment, Pepper feels like she knows the feeling. It’s not anything big, but it’s a loss all the same.

She feels self conscious in the moment, wondering why she chose to disclose it. It feels strangely personal but not all the same. It’s not like the silence was uncomfortable, but, she supposes, isn’t that what friendship is? Sharing parts of yourself and hoping the other person values it and protects it for you?

“I…” Natasha starts, clears her voice and nods again.

“It’s an anniversary today.”

Pepper is quiet.

“I don’t want to forget it, and someday I feel I will.”

The room is quiet.

“Today I just want to mark it, with my own thoughts and feelings. No one can fix it, no one can feel it for me, it’s my own, and I just…”

She lets the thought hang.

Pepper is silent, her body tense and still. It’s like a magic hold, if she moves, Natasha will stop talking.

“Clint doesn’t understand. I want him to get it, but he can’t and won’t ever. Things come easily for him.”

She stops herself and Pepper sees the slight pain that passes her face.

Pepper let’s the breath go, slowly, inaudibly.

She’s torn between asking about the anniversary and wanting to assure her friend that it’s going to be okay and whilst not everything everyone can understand, being able to talk about things is a positive.

It’s taken them both a while to build up to this, but she wants to assure her… of what she’s not sure. Maybe that whatever she’s feeling is valid.

But sometimes there are no words.

In her mind she marks the date, to be around if Natasha needs her.

Holding thoughts and feelings and keeping them safe. She can do that for her friend.

“I’m sorry about your hot chocolate shop,” Natasha finishes.

Pepper smiles, the tension in her body easing.

“Me too.”

She gently nudges Natasha’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry too, that you have to go through this alone. That he doesn’t get it, even if he can’t.”

Natasha shrugs.

“You ever feel like you were meant for one thing but you achieved something totally different? And whilst you’re proud of your achievements, you just sometimes think… what if?”

Pepper can’t help but scoff and nod.

“You’ve met Tony right? I have that thought frequently.”

“Yeah.”

Pepper opens her mouth to talk, but closes it as Natasha continues.

“Sometimes I wish things were easier, different. But they’re not.”

Pepper nods taking on her words.

“They’re not,” she repeats.

She waits this time, the quietness filling in the spaces.

“It’s not always going to be like this,” she decides.

“Some things will be easier, and some harder.”

There’s a light laugh and she knows she’s touched a nerve.

“That’s reassuring.”

Pepper nods. Of all the things she knows to be true, the fact that life has it’s difficulties is one of them.

“I think so. No status quo. Today this is hard. It’s okay that it is. Tomorrow might be the same but might be lighter. Things I think, ebb and flow.”

Natasha shrugs again.

“Maybe.”

The noncommittal way she responds, Pepper backs off. No one wants a lecture.

“I’m here, if you want to talk though? I don’t care what it’s about. I just want you to know.”

They catch eyes and Natasha nods.

“Thanks.”

Pepper bumps her shoulder again.

“What else are friends for?”

She knows it doesn’t fix anything. Words rarely do. But she hopes that Natasha knows she’s loved and supported.

Sighing lightly she appreciates the quiet, knowing as soon as she steps out, the loudness of the world will come back full force.

.

[missmaniac25]

Night Life Part 2 - Kim Hongjoong

Tada, the sequel that literally only my bestie asked for. Love you @eazycel 😘 Part 1 can be found here

HongjoongxFem!reader Word count: 2.5K Warnings: drinking, creepy guy, insecure reader Disclaimer: same as last time, i aint ever been in a club...

~~~

The truth was that it had been a shit day. Running out of breakfast cereal, missing the bus, forgetting your lunch and the worst piece of all – your colleague. To give him some credit, he wasn’t that bad overall. He was pleasant to work with and a relatively nice person. But he had to pick today to try and come onto you.

“Yeah, so if you want to grab a drink sometime, I’d really love that!” Daniel said, chipper as anything.

In truth, you wanted nothing to do with him in that way, and all you could think about was going home to your loving boyfriend.

“Daniel,” you started, trying to be nice in your tiredness. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re very nice but you’re not for me.”

“Hey, no worries.” He smiled and seemed to take it well. “It was worth an ask.”

With that out of the way, you thanked him for understanding, packed up your belongings and finally made your way home.

Hongjoong knew you. He knew you like the back of his hand. So, when you dragged yourself through the front door of your shared apartment and flopped on the couch without so much as a word, Hongjoong knew that something was wrong but that you didn’t want to talk about it yet. Instead, he made a cup of tea, pulled the biscuit tin from the shelf and joined you on the couch.

“When you’re ready,” he said, pulling you into his side. “I’m here for you, love.”

You let yourself be lulled by his presence and thanked your lucky stars that he was in your life.

“Thank you.” Was all you managed to say.

Hongjoong kissed your head, only saying ‘I love you’ in reply.

You had told Hongjoong everything the next morning to which his response had been to smother you in kisses until you couldn’t breathe, telling you over and over how much he cared about you. On the surface, you knew he meant just that but underneath it was that he was also doing it to make sure that you knew that no one stood a chance with you as long as he was around.

Not that you would ever be with anyone else. Hongjoong was everything and more that you ever needed.

~

“What is happening this evening, love?” Hongjoong asks as he watches you flutter around the room.

“Tonight is the staff outing thing,” you say, sitting down to put your shoes on. “I really don’t want to go but it’ll look bad if I bail.”

Your boyfriend knows that the night life bug still hasn’t bitten you, despite having been back to ‘Utopia’ a handful of times since that night with your friends. You’d almost always been up in the VIP balcony or behind the DJ’s booth with Mingi – somewhere safe and where Hongjoong could check in with you easily. He lived to make sure you were happy and comfortable.

“You know that you can go for a bit and then come home.” He held your hand and helped you up. “Or you could come keep me company at work.”

You kissed him on the cheek before gathering the last of your belongings.

“I’ll probably just come home,” you said. “But I’ll be waiting for you, like always.”

Hongjoong walks you to the door, stealing one last kiss from you before wishing you good luck, to which you laugh.

“Thank you, I’ll need it.”

The dinner had been calm and you had found yourself having a good time. So much so that when someone suggested going to a club, you didn’t retreat at the idea. And once the name ‘Utopia’ had been brought up and everyone agreed that that’s where they wanted to go, you had made up your mind.

“It’s a really nice place,” you offer your two cents, surprising the people around you. “I’ve gone there once or twice and I’ve never had a bad experience there.”

“Alright!” Daniel says, ushering everyone out of the restaurant. “Let’s hit the club!”

And that’s how you find yourself back in your boyfriend’s club, surrounded by your colleagues. The crowd around you seems to be having a good time as they dance to Mingi’s playlist for the night, some of then singing loud enough to be heard over the music. The atmosphere getting under your skin and you can’t help the smile forming on your face. Your boyfriend built this place from the ground up. How could you not be proud?

As always, you peak up at the VIP balcony, but can only see Yeosang serving drinks to some clientele; no sign of Hongjoong.

“You thinking of going up there?”

You turn to see Daniel standing behind you, drink in hand. He gestures to where you were looking and when you look back, Yeosang is back behind his minibar.

“Not tonight,” you answer, giving him a half smile. “Maybe another day.”

He laughs loudly and it makes you take a step back. His face is red – you deem that he’s had a few.

“You’re so funny.” Daniel closes the space between you again. “What I wouldn’t do to make you laugh more.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Yeah, well…” You try to move away again, not knowing how to respond.

A hand creeps around your waist and it causes your stomach to drop.

“Let go of me.”

“Dance with me!”

“No, let go of me!”

You manage to wiggle out of Daniel’s grasp. He’s right on top of you though. The people around you are blocking your line of sight – trying to find someone you can go to for safety.

Panic is starting to take over and you know you have to get away.

“Hey, where are you going?” Daniel yells as he stumbles after you.

Managing to slip through the people, you get to the bar.

“San!” You practically shout, hearing the shakiness in your own voice. “San, please!”

The bartender spots you and hurriedly makes his way to you.

“Is everything ok?” He asks, noting the way you keep glancing back to the dance floor.

You don’t get to answer him as Daniel emerges from the people behind you, beelining for you. San can see how quickly you tense up and he knows that if he doesn’t act fast, his boss will have his head. Faster than you can blink, he’s made his way around the bar and manoeuvring his way between you and Daniel.

“Wooyoung!” San calls to the younger bartender. “Call in the calvary.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and you see him dash off in the opposite direction to where you and San stand.

“Who the fuck is this?” Daniel’s words are starting to slur. “Your boyfriend?”

“I’m the bartender. I’m also her boyfriend’s friend so if you don’t leave now, I’ll have to have you thrown out.”

San’s voice doesn’t waver, even when Daniel steps up to him. Your coworker is trying clearly trying to intimidate the bartender as he shoves him lightly.

“Please don’t make this worse,” you try to de-escalate the situation.

“That depends on him,” San comments.

A hand on your shoulder causes you to whirl around, only to come face to face with Yunho, and Jongho just behind him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says as a commotion breaks out behind you.

The three of you all stare as San pins Daniel to the bar, one arm twisted behind his back. Jongho is quick to jump to attention, joining the bartender in keeping Daniel down.

“The fuck are you doing to me?” He snarls, trying his hardest to get free. “I paid to get into this club, you can’t treat me like this!”

A new voice sounds clearly over the music.

“Can’t I?”

Hongjoong stands facing the scene, Seonghwa right behind him. You can’t help yourself as you run to him, slotting yourself against his side, and feeling his arm around you is all the comfort you need.

“Who are you?” Daniel slurs some more as San and Jongho hold him up to face Hongjoong.

Hongjoong ignores him, turning you to.

“Are you ok?” He lightly runs his thumb along your cheek.

“Better now that you’re here.”

For a brief second, there’s a smile on his face before he ushers you to Seonghwa’s side.

“Who am I?” He finally turns his attention to the mess. “Well, not only am I the owner of this club, so that means I have the power to decide who’s allowed in and who’s not. I’m also the boyfriend of the woman you won’t leave alone.”

It seems that Hongjoong’s words aren’t registering in Daniel’s brain as laughs.

“You? The dating her? Nah, why would you date someone like her?”

All the men around you stiffen and you even notice Yunho grimace. Seonghwa takes your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze, and it’s greatly appreciated.

Slowly, and with venom in his eyes, Hongjoong steps up close to Daniel.

“You don’t deserve her anyways.” He fishes Daniel’s wallet out of his pocket and hands it to Yunho. “Find his ID. He’s blacklisted from my club.”

His sentence is barely done and San and Jongho are dragging Daniel off, kicking and screaming, Yunho right behind them. People on the dancefloor quickly get out of their way, and you see your other co-workers staring with their eyes wide. Mingi’s voice comes over the speakers.

“That’s your reminder not to be a jerk.”

There’s a soft chuckle before the music picks up again and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

Seonghwa lets you go and you want nothing more than to lose yourself in Hongjoong and never come out. Tears are threatening to spill but you don’t want to cry here.

But because Hongjoong knows you like the back of his hand, he’s quick to gather you to his side and lead you upstairs, pushing open the door to his office. The noise of the club fades as the door closes.

It’s just you and him.

You collapse into his arms which hold you tightly against him, and start to sob, everything suddenly becoming all too much. Hongjoong just holds you for a while, using the time to calm himself down. When he finally feels like his blood is no longer racing, he looks down at you.

“Hey,” Hongjoong says softly and he calls again when you don’t look up immediately. “It’s ok. I got you. He’s gone.”

You know he’s right, Daniel is gone, but it’s something that he said that’s still ringing in your ear.

“Why are you with me, Hongjoong?”

Your boyfriend’s lips turn down and his eyebrows furrow.

“Love, don’t listen to what he said. He was trying to get a rise out of me; it nearly worked too.”

You shake your head, letting insecurity slip in. He was rich, successful, good looking. He probably had girls and boys fawning over him every night, so why did he keep coming home to you?

“Love, my love.” Hongjoong delicately brushed away the tears on your cheeks. “You are everything I could ever want. No one else understands like you do. No one else could be so patient with me like you are. If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

You shake your head at his words but he’s quick with an answer.

“What kind of good boyfriend leaves the house when his girlfriend just arrives home, leaves her alone the whole night and only comes home early in the morning and expects her to still be there for him? Love, you barely get to see me but you still love me with everything in you. Why? You should be angry, frustrated. You should despise me.”

The shaking of your head becomes furious.

“Never. I could never despise you,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “I am so in love with you. Your work is so important to you and that means it’s important to me too. And when we are together, you make those moments special, even if they should be ordinary.”

You’re about to lean in and kiss him when there’s a knock on the door. You can feel Hongjoong’s breath as he sighs and it almost makes you laugh.

“Who is it?” He calls.

Yeosang and Jongho enter, the former carrying two glasses.

“It’s been taken care of,” Jongho informs you both as the glasses are put down.

“An ice water to help calm you down,” Yeosang says to you before looking at Hongjoong. “And a whiskey for the boss.”

 You both give them your thanks and Hongjoong dismisses them. He leads you to the couch he has up against one wall and sits next to you, passing your glass to you.

“This is going to make work very awkward on Monday,” you suddenly realise, taking a small sip.

Your boyfriend stays quiet and you know he’s thinking things through; going through different options of how to deal with it.

“You could always work for me instead.”

At that you laugh. The sound is music to Hongjoong’s ears and he smiles.

“And pray tell what is it that I would do?” You ask, snuggling into his body once more.

“I’m sure we could find a title for you but really you could just sit in the VIP balcony looking pretty.”

“Like the queen of the club?”

Hongjoong hums and you can’t believe that’s he’s actually considering it.

“No,” you let him know. “That’s not a real job. I’ll figure it out, babe.”

Hongjoong plants a kiss to the top of your head.

“If you change your mind, the offer still stands.” He informs you. “Say the word and I’ll have you here with me every night. My queen, my love.”