#sort of like how it was better to say end of march and push and get it done 3 days before that for clearing the wall

[medicinemane]

Anyway... still no idea if I'll manage to get the place clean by April... hard to really guess my pace, just know I have so much left to do

Plus I lack much confidence in my abilities given I'm bad at cleaning, I just happen to be better than either of my parents

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.

[foreingersgod]

End of the Day . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin’s rookie year hasn’t been going as smoothly as she had planned and it’s starting to take a toll on her. at least she has you there for her at the end of every game

WARNING: by no means, because i’m defending caitlin, will i tolerate any sort of racism/sexism on this post or on my page in general. just because we want to support her doesn’t mean we need to say completely unnecessary and racist things about other players. if there is anything of the sort, you will be blocked! this post has nothing to do with ANYONE except caitlin so please remember to be kind and respectful! this fic is meant to be a cute hurt/comfort scenario about struggling as a rookie, please don’t make it into something it’s not :)

every game was agonizing for you to watch. whether you were sat on the couch in front of the TV or sitting somewhere up in the stands, watching caitlin take hit after hit was too much for you to watch. it broke your heart every single time, knowing that with each passing game, it was harder and harder for her to stay optimistic. your sweet and energetic girlfriend now seemed completely wiped out and drained. you heard her meek responses to the press, claiming that it was all “just how basketball was”, but you knew her better than that. you knew it was starting to take a toll on her, caitlin would never call something like this just part of the game.

you often had to close your eyes while watching these games. you hated the way they pushed her around like she was anything less of a player, how she would fall to the ground and squeeze her eyes shut in pain. it made your blood boil to see how much pain she was in. the urge to march down to the court floors and take on these women head on was constantly sitting in the back of your mind. there had been times you had to step outside of the stadium to take a breathe, trying to reassure yourself that cailtin was alright and had it under control.

and she did, she had gotten quite good at keeping a relaxed demeanor despite the physicality on the court. there were times were she would slip up though, letting her temper get the best of her, but she never took it too far and always reminded you that she could handle it. you knew deep down that caitlin only stayed so calm because of you. the last thing she wanted was to upset or worry you, make a big scene that she knew you’d evidently witness. as much as caitlin wanted to scream and argue and fight back, she couldn’t bare the thought of you watching her lose her cool. so she suffered in silence, something she had a habit of, aware of how mad it made you. you wanted nothing more than to comfort her in these times of need, but she was too stubborn to cave in.

it wasn’t until tonight, though, that she had finally reached her breaking point. this last game being the straw that broke the camels back. you hadn’t known what it was, whether it was the flagrant foul or the snide comments made off the court, but it cut caitlin deeper than the rest. unfortunately, you weren’t able to attend this particular game. work ended up being crazy busy and you had to stay longer, cutting into about 30 minutes of game time. you had warned caitlin before the game started, letting her know that you would be watching her from home and that you’d be cheering her on like always.

you don’t think you could get the image out of your head, the moment replaying in your head well after the game had ended. you had settled down on the couch with your ‘22’ t-shirt on and a loose blanket thrown over your lap, watching the game with your jaw clenched. you wanted so badly to stay hopeful tonight, trying to keep a positive mindset. but as the 3rd quarter rolled around, your hopes were quickly diminished. you watched one of the opponents come up behind caitlin, decking her in the shoulder so hard that she was thrown relentlessly to the ground. you cringed in dismay. you sat through the remnants of the game totally gutted for your girlfriend knowing that she’d be beating herself up when she walked through the doors of your home.

once the game had ended, you moseyed your way to the bedroom. after your nightly routine you crawled into bed and pulled out your book, waiting for caitlin’s arrival. you hated when she wasn’t here, the bed colder and lonelier than you’d have liked. it was hard to focus on the words littered across the novels pages as anticipation spread through your body. about 30 minutes had passed when you finally heard the obnoxious screeching of the front doors hinges. a wave of relief washed over you as you listened to familiar foot steps trail throughout the kitchen, eventually padding their way up the stairs.

then she came into view, pushing your bedroom door open quietly. she had assumed you were asleep by now and didn’t want to wake you by being too loud. your head perked up, the book long forgotten somewhere on the sheets as you took in the sight of your girlfriend. she looked burned out, a sad expression chiseled into her features. her hair was messy, cheeks flushed and pale-you assumed had been from crying. she hadn’t noticed you right away, only looking up when you called out her name.

“cait…” you breathed, unsure of what to say. she was clearly bothered, on the verge of tears. normally she’d come home and brush it off, saying that she just needed you and she’d be ok, but tonight was different. she looked inconsolable, standing there at the end of the bed.

“oh, hey baby,” she faked a smile, now dragging her feet to her side of the bed to get changed “you’re up”

“yea,” you offered a smile in return “you know i can’t sleep without you”

the small comment seemed to entice a genuine smile out of her this time, seeing how her lips turned upwards slightly as she pulled a clean tshirt over her head. she joined you in bed, sliding one leg underneath yours to feel the smallest bit of touch from you.

“hey i-uh,” you shook your head. this was a delicate matter that you didn’t know how to approach “i watched the game, cait”

“mhm,” she hummed, now pulling out her phone to mindlessly scroll through social media. possibly to distract her, but seeing the nasty comments about earlier tonight certainly wasn’t going to help.

you weren’t satisfied with her avoidance, deciding to prod further. you couldn’t watch her suffer like this any longer.

“baby,” you said softly, your tone somewhat stern to grab her attention. a gentle hand made its way to her wrist, pushing the phone from her grasp and into her lap “i think we should talk about the elephant in the room”

“i really don’t…” she muttered, her voice shaking “it’s fine, you know me”

���but caitlin, it’s not” you maneuvered around the bed, turning around and pulling your knees to your chest so you could fully face her. she laid her head back on the headboard, tilting her jaw away from you “you always say that, and i know you’re strong and can handle it. but tonight wasn’t ok and i know you know that”

you noticed the way her muscles tensed, preparing for a conversation she wished she would never have to have. you reached over to her, hand resting on her thigh as you rubbed soothingly. she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed deeply to hold back tears. but it was no use, she was already hiccuping as sobs racked her body. you felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest. she hardly cried, and when she did, it was never like this.

“it’s whatever,” she couldn’t bring herself to look at you, beating herself up for even being upset in the first place “that’s just how it is, i’m the rookie and-”

“caitlin, stop” you begged, knowing where this was going. she was trying to brush it off once again. you disregarded her thigh, now moving even closer to her to place a hand on her cheek “that’s not just ‘how it is’, you’re allowed to be upset when you get quite literally shoved to the ground. and you’ve got too much on your plate right now, there’s a lot going on”

“i just-i don’t want…” the tears kept coming as she melted into your touch, the weight of her head leaning into your hand “i’m sorry”

“for what, baby?” you ran your thumb across her cheekbone “you have nothing to be sorry about”

“for all of this,” she exhaled, opening her eyes to actually look at you. her eyes slightly red, wet streaks running down her cheeks “for being upset like this, you shouldn’t have to sit here for this, i’m just being dramatic”

“you’re not being dramatic,” you butted in “got it? you shouldn’t have to feel sorry for being upset about something like this and i’ll have you know-i’m more than happy to be a shoulder to cry on, it’s what i’m here for. you can be respectful and reserved on the court and to the press, but you should never apologize for coming home and being vulnerable. especially with me”

a wave of silence washed over the room, caitlin’s exasperated sniffles being the only sound. she took a deep breath before continuing, gaze flickering down to her hands that were now fidgeting in her lap.

“i hate it so much,” she said, tears now only coming down harder “it was fine at first, but…but it’s just too much, i can’t”

“hey hey hey, it’s ok” you closed any distance between the two of you, wrapping your arms around her and bringing her in your chest. she instantly buried her head underneath your chin, allowing you to run your fingers through her hair and rub her back comfortingly “i know, baby it’s gonna be ok”

“i thought i could handle it, you know?” her voice was small, strained even. the collar of your shirt now damp, her lengthy fingers grabbing desperately at your sides for comfort “but it’s hard to process it all…like sure, being the rookie’s hard, but…but for some reason it’s just way more difficult than i imagined. and getting shoved around sucks, but it’s not even that. i don’t know how to explain it…im just so-so frustrated”

you listened attentively, giving your two cents when it was needed, humming in agreement as she ranted. you let her get it all out, hoping that this would help take some of the weight of her chest. her stubbornness to talk about things like this caused her a great deal of pain in the end, and you’d do anything in your power (even if it were sitting here like this all night) to ease her worries. you couldn’t describe how proud of her you were, grateful that she was trusting you enough to tell you how she truly felt.

“i think i’m just so overwhelmed with everything…with press, with all these expectations, with games…all of it has just been hammering down on me and it’s really fucked me up” she finished, taking a gasp of air after she poured her entire heart out to you.

“i get it, babe” you concurred “being new is hard and i can’t even imagine how much pressure you’ve been putting on yourself over this past year. and you know i don’t know much about the game and all that, but…but what i can say is, is that you aren’t alone. you have so many people who love you and support and are here for whenever you have days like this. neither me, your friends and teammates, your family, or even your fans expect you to walk out of the season like it was nothing. this is supposed to be hard and you’re supposed to have emotions like this. i love you more than anything and i need you to know that i’m here for you through all of this, alright?”

she sat up from being curled into your embrace for what felt like hours. her tears were now mostly dry, although her nose was still a light shade of pink from the congestion. another exasperated breath tumbled from her lips as she urgently grabbed both sides of your face, leaning into you. her lips met with yours in haste. she kissed you deeply, a small whimper emitting from her throat.

“i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without you,” she said, resting her forehead on yours, your hands cupping hers as they stayed firm to your face “you always know what to say, thank you for listening and being there for me”

you laughed, grinning as you looked into her gorgeous eyes “anytime, anywhere, no matter what. i’m so proud of you babe”

after a few more words were passed between the two of you, it was decided that you both were in dire need of some rest. caitlin was tired enough as it is, coming home and letting all of her emotions go had to have been even more exhausting. getting under the covers, caitlin moved down the bed so that she could rest her head just above your stomach, the sound of your heartbeat easing her stress.

“i love you so much” she yawned, fingers snaking underneath your shirt to run along your soft skin.

“i love you too, cait” you sighed, finally letting sleep take over your body.

[justalittlelilac]

Four days.

You had four days to tell Qiu Lin you were in love with them.

Four days before Qiu would leave Golden Grove again to return to their university and leave you. Four days to somehow summon the courage to say aloud what you'd whispered only to your pillow at night. Four days to reveal what you had held close to your heart.

Four. Days.

It had felt easy at first. After all, you'd been best friends for years—what were three months apart? When they left for that out-of-state university, the goodbye had been teary, yes, but you'd reassured yourself they'd come back even if it was so far away.

Much less could be said about you. No, when you planted yourself in Golden Grove, you had been determined to put roots so deep in the ground that not even your mom could uproot you again.

You weren't like the others, ready to run off and embrace change. You had chosen this life, this town, with its familiar faces and predictable days. You chose the comfort of online schooling while the rest packed up and moved on. While they left.

And when Qiu and Tamarack no longer graced your bedroom with their laughter and light, the house felt colder and emptier, especially with your mom taking more business trips now that you were an adult.

That first week, you found yourself hiding a teary voice in a three-way call with your friends that lasted an hour. They'd promised to call every day, but the best-laid plans never consider being a new freshman in college. Very quickly, the calls devolved into sporadic spurts of text conversation, erratic like the flicker of a dying candle.

You understood. Of course, you did. They were busy, and so were you. That was what you claimed in happy texts that ended in a thumbs-up emoji.

In actuality, you found yourself staring at your phone most days, scrambling for the device whenever it lit up. You tried to occupy yourself, even taking a job as an assistant editor at the Golden Grove Gazette. However, you still felt their absence... especially Qiu's.

It was different with Qiu. Always had been. Always would be. Much like the rest of Golden Grove's student body, you'd admired and crushed on them for so long. Even when they had iced everyone else out, they had kept you close. You'd never told them how much that meant to you, but it was more precious than all the stars you'd gazed at together, lying on your backs in the damp grass of your backyard at night.

Even when you also pushed everyone away, crashed out, and earned the moniker "Golden Grove's Local Delinquent," they stayed. They didn't judge, but they were worried because they knew what it felt like to feel lost. Through their help, you righted yourself somewhat, even if much damage had already been done. You still didn't know how to thank them for that.

Loving Qiu, even quietly, was like loving the sun on a frosted morning. Its rays would somehow penetrate through the chill to warm your face, comforting and cozy. It'd been like that since you were 10.

You'd watch them from across the schoolyard, noting their every move. Noticing how they carried themselves differently from others around them, confident but kind. Taking mental note of how the wind blew their silky dark hair and how it'd catch the light in such a way that it would cause you to stare for just a few moments longer than anyone else.

And sometimes, just sometimes, you swore you caught them staring back when you weren't looking.

However, as time marched on and your crush grew into something much fonder and more profound, you resigned yourself to friendship. Everyone liked Qiu; you were not unique in that sort of way. You told yourself it was enough, thinking it better to have them as a friend than to lose them altogether if they didn't feel the same. Time hid your deeper love like seeds under snow, and you tried to forget the words you were too afraid to speak. And as time did what it does, you slowly accepted that it had been too long to utter them aloud at all.

Until they left.

Then, it was like all the years of buried longing had rushed to the surface and the forefront of your mind like roots cracking the pavement, like released hounds, barking and gnashing at your thoughts. You believed you could go the rest of your life only half loving Qiu Lin. Loving them contently from afar in a quiet part of your heart.

But the ache from the distance only revealed more and more that half loving Qiu Lin felt like a life half lived.

When they texted some obscure (but funny) anti-thanksgiving meme in the group chat stating they'd be home for the four-day break, you knew you couldn't let the time pass by without telling them.

Because you knew with even more certainty that you would likely never get another chance. The gap between you two was expanding, and if you didn't jump now, it'd become too vast for even the most skilled leap to make it across.

You had just hit 'submit' on your last online midterm test when you felt your phone buzz a couple times next to you on your bed. Closing the laptop, you grabbed it and read the text messages coming in with a growing smile:

Part 2

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hey, its Ominoose, your all time biggest fan here. Blue time.

You're a patient at the hospital, his favourite, he's always possessive. A new guy joins the staff and tries it with you, either flirting or getting handsy. Blue finds out, gets possessive. Maybe coddles you a bit ?? Idk, just... Blue <3

Orderly!Blue Jones X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • ko-fi • request info •

A/N: Firstly @ominoose you are far too kind, secondly I'm sorry this took so long, thirdly I’m so sorry Blue is fucking insane in this. 

He’s jealous! He’s whiney! He's a warning in himself!

Warnings: overuse of italics, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, there's some power dynamics in here because reader is a patient, swearing, also I haven't proof read this correctly because I just can't look at it any longer, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2079

________________________________

“It’s time to go in.” Timothy’s voice made you jump. He was pretty nice, for an orderly. He’d only started two weeks ago and already he had half of the patients swooning and making heart eyes at him. Just over the fact that he seemed vaguely kind, and not the sort of person that would push someone under a bus for the fun of it. 

“Oh,” you closed your book, lightly bending the corner to mark your page. They didn’t let you have bookmarks in here, ‘weapons’ apparently. Though how you could do more damage than a paper cut was beyond you. 

“Sorry.” You mumble as you get up from your spot under the tree, you hadn’t heard the pips which normally alerted you to the end of outside time. 

Timothy smiles and shakes his head. “It’s okay, no problem, I could see you were absorbed in your book.” His expression is soft, caring. “Is it good?” 

You nod, eyeing him with a little uncertainty. 

“It’s nice to see patients reading, I think it’s really calming, you know?” He smiles again, tilting his head to the side and taking a fraction of a step closer. “I’ll take you in,” he places his hand on your bicep gently, just to guide you towards the door. All the other patients have gone inside already. 

“I see you reading a lot, you must like it huh?” He says good-naturedly.

“There’s not a lot else to do.” You say softly when he looks to you for an answer.

Timothy laughs kindly, “Well, that and getting better I guess?”

“Hmm.” While he seemed harmless enough, you knew from experience that it was always better to err on the side of caution with orderlies, especially new ones. And even more so with ones that seemed friendly. 

He pauses, haunting your movements with the hand on your arm. “You know, you should smile a bit.” 

Ah. There it was.

You frown.

“I mean,” he blushes a little and runs his free hand through his hair. “Not like that, do what you want, of course. I just heard that smiling releases happy chemicals you know? Makes you feel happy even if you’re just doing the expression.”

Oh.

You look at him carefully, scrutinising for any malice and find none. You smile a little and nod. Maybe he’s-

“McCarthy!” Blue bellows from across the courtyard, his voice snapping against you like a whip. 

Timothy visually jumps at the sound of his last name, turning quickly, but not letting go of your arm. Blue marches over. His eyes seem brighter than usual, gleaming with a mad, impulsive energy that rolls off him in waves.

Timothy audibly gulps as Blue stops in front of him. 

Blue smiles, all teeth like a chimp bearing a warning. “What are you doing?” He says calmly.

“I, I was just taking them inside.”

Blue doesn’t even look at you. “Why?” 

“It’s, erm, it’s time to go in?” He shifts a little nervously. 

Blue leans a fraction closer, dropping his voice dangerously low. “Is it?”

Timothy gulps and nods, wide-eyed. 

“Take your fucking hand off their arm.” He growls.

Timothy lets go of you as if he’s been burnt, stepping back, holding his hands up in apology. 

Blue clenches his jaw, his shoulders pulled back and begins to stalk forward, closing the gap and removing the slither of space Timothy tried to place between them. 

“Blue,” you whisper, low and soft, as you brush against his forearm with your little finger. 

His attention snaps to you instantly, the tension leaking out of his expression. 

“It’s okay.” You nod at him, keeping your voice that same gentle quiet tone. 

He grabs hold of your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles before looking back to Timothy and giving him a glare that could have easily stripped flesh from bone. “Get back to your post.”

Timothy didn’t have to be told twice. 

He scampered back, rushing through the door and not even giving either of you a glance over his shoulder. 

You squeeze Blue’s hand back. “You’re not going to have any more new staff if you keep terrifying them like that.” 

He doesn’t listen to you, his muscles tense as he lightly traces the place where Timothy’s hand had been. “Why was he touching you?” 

“He was taking me back inside.” 

“And you let him?” He glances up at you with dangerous eyes.

You nod. In your heart of hearts you know he understands why you couldn’t refuse.

His grip on your arm tightens ever so slightly. “Why?” 

“Would you rather I had, and been put in solitary?” 

His expression softens again and he shakes his head ever so slightly. “He wouldn’t have dared.” He whispers, so quiet you can barely make out the words.

Suddenly he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer and pulling up the sleeve of your t-shirt so he can get to your skin. 

You yelp in surprise as he bites your arm, sinking his teeth into the spot where Timothy's hand had rested moments previously, before he soothes the spot with his tongue. Instantly you flinch back, but he holds you firm as he sucks a hasty love bite into your skin. 

His chin is a mess with salvia when he pulls back, his fingers digging into you. 

You barely get a chance to open your mouth, to intake a quick gulp of air before he’s yanking you towards him, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and forcing his mouth onto yours.

Despite the frenzied heat, the kisses are soft, careful as he slides his tongue into your mouth and presses his body flush against yours. He whimpers a little as you kiss him back, nipping a little at your bottom lip and pressing his warm palm against your lower back so that you have nowhere to escape to as he grinds his half-hard cock between your legs. 

It takes him a moment longer than you thought it would for him to stop, pull back a fraction, breathing hard. For a second you think he’s remembered himself, remembered that you’re both in the middle of the grounds with the asylum's large windows looking down on both of you. But the glazed look in his eyes tells you that he doesn’t care. 

“Don’t want him to touch you,” he mutters, tracing his fingers along your jawline. 

“I know Blue.” You say soothingly. 

“Don’t want anyone to touch you.” He kisses you again, three light, quick pecks to your lips. “Other people… they’re not careful. They don’t understand how to take care… they break things.” He shakes his head. “They’re not allowed to break my things.” 

You lean a little closer, closing your eyes and rubbing your nose against his. “I know Blue.” 

His kiss is harder this time, his fingers a touch too firm as he squeezes your jaw and holds you in place. 

You don’t mind though, don’t care as you feel his fingers twitch, his grip relaxing as you lick into his mouth. 

He pulls back a fraction, his warm breath hitting your cheeks. “Need to make you cum.” He mutters into your mouth, not giving you even a second to respond before he turns and marches back, further away from the asylum doors and pulling you along with him. 

“Blue!” Your book slips out of your hands and you practically have to jog as he yanks on your arm, moving with a frenzied energy to the large, old oak tree you were sat underneath moments before. 

He pulls you around so that you’re hidden from the asylum’s windows and pushes you up against the bark. 

“My book-”

“I’ll get it in a sec’ baby,” he murmurs, his voice almost slurred as he gazes over your body, taking every detail in before he drops to his knees. 

“I don’t think-”

“You don’t have to think.” He bites softly at your hip as he hurriedly pulls down your trousers and panties, yanking them off your right leg and not bothering to completely remove them from your left. “Just be good.” He mutters, his mouth thick with salvia. His fingers dig into your skin as he grabs hold of your right thigh and hoists it over his shoulder. Not even pausing before his mouth is on you. 

Your breath leaves your lips as a whine as he licks, broad, fat swipes of his tongue through your folds and up to circle and tease your clit. 

“Blue,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shoulders so support as he repeats the action over and over again, digging his fingers into your thighs and urging you to buck into his face. 

He moans against you as you say his name, swirling an extra circle around your clit before he’s dragging his tongue back down and up again. Groaning as he completely devours you. 

The wet sounds are practically obscene, even without your building cries that you are trying your hardest to muffle, it would be obvious what the two of you were doing to anyone in the vague vicinity. But you quickly lost any residual thought of caring the second his mouth was on you. 

He pushes you harder against the tree, practically forcing you onto tiptoes as your right leg squeezes against his back and pulls him closer. 

He rakes his teeth over your bundle of nerves, chuckling at your little sharp intake of breath before he sucks on your clit like a man possessed. 

You moan loudly, throwing your head back against the tree bark as your legs shake and nerve endings are flayed raw with pleasure. He keeps sucking, grinding his face against you as he pulls your orgasm from your body, giving you little say in the matter. 

Your vision whites out for a second as your back arches, your fingers digging into and bruising his skin.

You barely have a moment to recover, the aftershock still running along your limbs as he pulls your leg from his shoulder and moves back. You nearly stumble for a second, weak without his support, but then his hands are around your thighs and spreading you wide as he pushes inside. 

He groans as you gasp in surprise, grinning at the way your eyebrows pinch together. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, just presses until he is completely sheathed, his length splitting you wide open. 

“Fuccck…” he moans and bucks shallowly, once, twice, before really starting to move. Setting a brutal, frantic pace that has you holding onto him for dear life as sparks of pleasure coil and glide out from your core. 

“You take me so good baby, so good for me,” he kisses you hard, nuzzling into your cheek and neck as he pounds into you in a frenzy. 

It’s like he has you memorised, every spot to make you scream, and cry, and beg for more, as he hits deliciously deep, angling his hips just so that you see stars with every thrust. 

“Blue,” you moan into his mouth, feel him grin at how wrecked you sound. “I’m-”

He changes the tempo ever so slightly and you practically scream for him. 

“That good, huh baby? Need my cock that much, hmm?” 

You nod, unable to form words. 

“Only my cock, yeah? Only me. No one else, no one else is gonna take care of you like this, no one else is gonna make this pussy feel so good, no one else is allowed.” He growls. 

You gasp, pleasure building to a dizzying high. “Please, gonna cum, please.”

He whines, biting his lip, his voice softening despite the sudden increase of his thrusts. “Oh baby please, please, I need it. Please cum on my cock, please. Need you to cum, need you to feel good, let me make you cum,” thrust, “please,” thrust, “ just me,” thrust, “ just me,” thrust, “no one else.” 

“Just you.” You manage to stammer out as bliss overtakes every thought, washing over you in waves and rippling across your very soul. 

Blue lets out a strangled cry as you cum, your walls squeezing him so tightly, urging him deeper and pulling his own orgasm from his bones. He buries his face into your neck and bites down, his saliva socking into your t-shirt as he muffles his moans. 

He stays close as you both recover, littering your face with kisses until you're giggling, and playfully trying to push his face away. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[ticklystuff]

Day 23: Video Games

a/n: ler!dan heng, lee!caelus from my own personal tickletober list!

———

It'd be so easy.

It wasn't like Dan Heng to involve himself, always preferring the sidelines, if anything, but seeing Caelus'.. well, immovable form sparked the little bit of mischief that he wasn't aware was inside of him. Caelus was like a well-sculpted statue, perfectly still, only his fingers moving against the controller and his eyes darting to and fro, completely enamored by the television screen projecting his current video game. His upper body leaned forward, tongue slightly peeking through his mouth, unbreakable in concentration, as if his very life depended on winning. The whole thing was silly to Dan Heng, but Caelus' reactions were always entertaining to watch, surprisingly.

"Caelus, stop!" his opponent cried out frustratedly, March's shrill voice ringing out in the room from where she was seated. Dan Heng's attention returned the screen to see Caelus' character chasing down March's, expertly executing fighting combos against the pink blob March picked to be Caelus' victim in the match. "No! Stop! Get away-! Ugh, Caelus!"

"I've already told you that Fox easily beats Jigglypuff," Caelus finally spoke after netting the kill, "but you might've been able to save yourself if you did a nair into a bair, and then followed up with rest."

"I have no idea what you're saying!"

"I'm just trying to help you!"

"I'm just trying to have fun!"

"Is losing fun to you?"

"Well, winning isn't everything, y'know?"

"No, no, it is."

And this is why Dan Heng avoided playing video games altogether, finding both to be absolute nuisances in their own ways, though seeing their personalities go to the extreme did provide some form of short-term amusement. He snorted as he watched Caelus claim another one of March's lives, hearing the frustrated screams from the other side of Caelus.

That little bit of mischief began to worm its way back into his brain, propelled by March's string of losses. It was difficult to not feel some sort of pity for the clear underdog in this scenario and Dan Heng was starting to believe that Caelus might secretly be a bit of a sadist. Though his face remained still and expressionless throughout the game, Dan Heng recognized the spark that grew in his eye every time March's character was knocked out by his own.

Perhaps March could use a bit of help, the archivist thought to himself, yet he wasn't sure if this sudden notion was fueled by March's never-ending slaughter or the need to act on previously mentioned mischief. The rationale part of him also told him that better to sit out and yet..

It'd be so easy..

And it was! His body seemingly moved on its own, out of character for how he usually composed himself, approaching Caelus' own in what felt like slow motion, though, with how the game preoccupied his attention, Dan Heng was sure he wouldn't have time to react to how his hands latched onto Caelus' sides anyway.

"H-Hey! EheHEHEhahaha!"

And what was surprising about the whole thing was that despite the fact he was being tickled, Caelus' eyes still remained glued to the screen, refusing to let up his growing victory over March. His body twisted and turned, avoiding Dan Heng's hands to the best of his ability, laughter pouring out all the while, yet his hands remained at the controller, perfectly executing each command. If anything, his resistance pushed Dan Heng even further, now digging into Caelus' underarms.

"Yes! Yes, I love you, Dan Heng!" March cried out, relishing in the aid, though, her gameplay failed to improve, despite the handicap.

"Mahaharch! This is c-cheheheating!"

"I didn't ask for help!"

It was only until Dan Heng finally knocked Caelus to the floor that he lost control, his controller knocked out of his hand, as Dan Heng kept up the tickle attack. Now with his hands free, it was difficult for Dan Heng to keep up the tickling, having to now contend with Caelus' own hands, but the laughter that filled the room, followed by March's eventual cheers from the inevitable kill, was more than worth it.

"You guhuhuys! NahaHAHAhat fahahair!" Caelus whined, as Dan Heng lightly tickled under the hem of his shirt, though, this was short-lived, once March secured the kill.

"I finally got a win!"

"Y-Yeah, but I'm still winning overall!" Caelus breathed, sitting up with a huff, grabbing the controller from the floor. "Maybe Dan Heng should give it a try? See how he likes the handicap?"

Dan Heng blinked as the controller was dropped into his lap, followed by a mischievous nudge from Caelus.

"Go on, Dan Heng," Caelus said, ill-intent behind his voice.

"Oh, there's no need for that," March said, ready for her new opponent. "I won't need a handicap to beat him!"

[gravedwe11er]

Co-existence

Another rarepair prompt, a bit late but better than never. Thanks to my betas @jayden-writes and @showstopper35, your help means a lot!

Pairing: Starscream/Wheeljack

Cw: a bit of injury, but nothing serious

Wordcount: 2.5k

Continuity: IDW

Summary: Five times living together was a bit of a hassle, and the one time that made it all worth it.

“Wheeljack.”

Lifting his helm up and away from the microscope before turning his head towards the sound of Starscream’s voice, Wheeljack finds his lover standing behind him with a scowl on his faceplates and his arms crossed, claws tapping out an irritated rhythm on his own plating.

“Oh hey, you’re back early. Something happen?”

Starscream snorts. “You really should check your chrono more often, it’s evening.”

Ah. “Suppose I should!” he chuckles. Losing track of time has always been a common issue for him, and he doubts that’s gonna be changing anytime soon. “So, what’s got you making that face? The council stepping on your toes again?”

“Stepping on my what-? Nevermind, don’t tell me,” Starscream mutters, shaking his helm at the earth word before carrying on. “But no, they’ve actually managed to be marginally more tolerable than usual today.”

“So?”

“So,” the seeker huffs, gesturing towards the completely cluttered table Wheeljack is sitting at, “you do know this isn’t a lab table, right?”

Ah. Well, Wheeljack did sort of forget about that, actually. Back in his old apartment, he hadn’t really kept a distinction between refueling table and lab table – his equipment took up nearly every horizontal surface aside from his berth, not to mention he usually ate in his lab anyway and had no need to keep it tidied away.

Though it made sense that Starscream, being…well, Starscream, might not see things the same way.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he shrugs sheepishly. “I’ll clean it up soon, yeah? Just lemme finish this up real quick, it shouldn’t be moved at this stage-“

“You can have one half,” interjects Starscream. “One half of the table exactly. And keep anything caustic in your actual lab, this thing wasn’t cheap.”

Wheeljack stares at him, optics wide. Avoiding his gaze, the seeker crosses his arms again. “We talked about compromising, didn’t we?” he mutters.

“So we did,” says the engineer, pleasantly surprised. “Still, thanks.”

Humming in response, Starscream sidles up next to him before throwing him an expectant look.

With a grin hidden under his blast mask, Wheeljack pushes the microscope closer to his partner. “So, what I’ve got here are ore samples from the Helex area…”

Now, Starscream understands the value of personal possessions, of course, and understands that Wheeljack would want to bring them over from his apartment when moving into his own penthouse. But why must they all look like…that?!

“I had this place professionally decorated,” he complains, with a completely justified whine to his voice, as the engineer shoves a battered, stained monstrosity of a desk into a corner of their berthroom.

In the living room already sits an eyesore of an armchair, completely clashing with the rest of his carefully chosen furniture. Little holo displays with photos of Wheeljack and his various autobot buddies haphazardly litter the shelves, scattered around Starscream’s nicely arranged models and knick-knacks. By the entrance, a few boxes hastily labeled as various lab equipment still wait to be unpacked.

“Uh. Sorry?” says Wheeljack, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess the table does look a bit grimy. I could give it a wipe down if you want?”

Scrubbing a servo down his faceplates, Starscream abruptly turns on a thruster and marches away from the unfolding disaster before he ends up saying something he regrets.

Primus, the things he puts up with for this mech.

Wheeljack wakes slowly, his systems taking their time to boot up in the face of just how utterly comfortable he is. As ridiculously huge and ostentatious Starscream’s berth is, he’s absolutely beginning to see its appeal.

And speaking of the mech- he lazily throws an arm out to the opposite side, finding it empty but still faintly warm - must have gotten up just a bit before him.

When he eventually drags himself out, his frame’s demands for fuel overpowering the wonderful softness of his lover’s fancy sheets, he finds Starscream on the couch, sipping his own morning cube in stormy silence. The room is dark, unusually so for this time of day, and Wheeljack spends a few confused moments thinking about unexpected dust storms before noticing the blinds drawn across all windows and the glass balcony door. Making his way over to the nearest one, wanting to see natural light at least once per day, he’s quickly halted by his partner’s voice.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” says Starscream, tone acidic, “not unless you want to see your faceplates on the front page tomorrow.”

Stopping in his tracks, he turns to look incredulously at his seeker. “Say what?”

“It would seem that there’s nothing more interesting happening these days than my ‘scandalous paramour’ moving in with me and making things official. The camera drones have been lurking outside all morning.”

Wheeljack sputters. “Wh- that can’t be legal! Isn’t this private property?”

“Well, it’s not illegal, unfortunately,” scowls Starscream, taking another sip of his fuel. “They’re technically not on my property, and there’s nothing preventing them from hovering just outside of it. I’d shoot them down, but,” he shrugs, “that would be bad for my image.”

“Primus,” sighs Wheeljack, ambling over to the dispensary and getting himself a cube before sitting down next to the seeker. “This happen a lot?”

“More than I’d like,” grunts Starscream, before giving him a sideways glance. “I’m afraid it’s something you’ll have to deal with as well, now that you’re here. I hope it’s not too much of a deal-breaker.”

Sensing the thread of anxiety in his partner’s field, Wheeljack throws an arm over the seeker’s shoulders with an easy grin. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll manage. And besides,” he says in a fake-conspiratory mumble, “I don’t think I could bear recharging anymore without these blankets of yours, they’re really something special.”

Sure, he’s not exactly a fan of being examined by the masses like a specimen under a microscope, but seeing Starscream laugh like that, at something he said, makes it all seem pretty bearable.

As Starscream flies home, zig-zagging between Metroplex’s towers in his altmode, he can’t help but miss the war, just a tiny bit. Primus, what he wouldn’t give for a chance to simply hold the council of worlds at gunpoint, to make them actually listen to him for once. But no, in this new, civilized age, he has to hear them squabble over everything for hours on end, wasting everyone’s time and still getting nowhere.

Doing a few loops in the air to properly stretch his wings, his thoughts begin to stray towards the recent addition to his penthouse. It’s been a few chords since the move, and while living with Wheeljack has certainly had its difficulties, so far it’s been surprisingly… pleasant. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was, being greeted by a mech who was actually happy to see him after a long day of work, work, and more work.

Buoyed by the thought, he transforms once he reaches his tower’s balcony and makes his way inside with a small spring in his step, only to bump into the engineer standing right behind the door. Steadying himself on Wheeljack’s chestplate, he barely manages to note the anxiety in his lover’s field before he’s hit with a verbal barrage.

“Right, so, first, I wanna say that it was an accident and I’ll clean it all up. Most of it should scrub out I think, but some of it got on the sheets and the wall above my desk’s a little burned and-“

“Wheeljack!” shouts Starscream, smacking a servo over the engineer’s mouth to try and parse out what he’s just heard. “Slow down! You said something about an accident- are you alright?”

“What, me?” says Wheeljack, stepping a bit further away. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just a bit dirty,“ he reassures, waving his concerns off.

Now that Starscream can properly take him in, he sees the soot and odd colored stains littering his entire upper half, though, to his relief, he can’t see any signs of injury. With that out of the way, his processor manages to register the rest of that frenzied rant, and he quickly shoulders past the contrite looking engineer, marching his way into their berthroom.

It’s a disaster. Wheeljack’s already beaten looking desk is currently covered in soot and chunks of unknown origin, as are the nearby walls, the floor, and their berth. The explosion, as that’s surely what it was, also seems to have broken various other vials that were on said desk, whose contents are currently spilling all over the floor and making it look like an abstract artist’s canvas.

“I swear it was an accident, really,” calls out Wheeljack from somewhere behind him.

Starscream suppresses the urge to scream, field flaring out in frustration. For a moment, he wants to yell at Wheeljack, to complain about his ruined furniture and make him repeat the house rules for explosives ten times over until they stick. He’s already had a bad cycle and he feels close to snapping as he turns to the engineer, but then he just- falters.

Wheeljack looks anxious, wringing his servos together, a genuine, openly apologetic expression on his faceplates, and Starscream feels all the fight going out of him. He should have expected it, really, when he brought this brilliant disaster of a mech into his home. Everyone knows that ‘explosions’ and ‘Wheeljack’ are a package deal, and while that joke was certainly funnier when it wasn’t his home being wrecked, he can’t seem to get properly mad at him for it. Anyone else, he’d happily screech their audials off, but… not Wheeljack, it would seem.

“It’s alright,” he sighs, watching his lover relax a bit. “I suppose accidents happen, especially around you.”

“Yeahh, I know. Sorry again, I’ll go clean it up.”

“Hmpf. You better.”

Wheeljack wakes in the middle of the night, the last vestiges of a fading nightmare leaving him feeling bleary and cold. Somewhere next to him, he can hear the near-silent hum of Starscream’s systems as he recharges, a faint heat emanating from his plating. Wanting nothing more than to return to his already too few hours of rest, he’s in the slow process of turning towards his lover when a sharp object meets his optical glass with a resounding crack.

He rears back with a yelp, one servo covering his stinging optic while he onlines the other, just in time to see Starscream jump up onto his knees, gun in hand and aimed at the door.

“What happened?” the seeker shouts, shattering the last vestiges of the night’s peace as he frantically looks around for an unseen danger.

Doing his own sweep of the place and really wishing he’d kept a weapon in his subspace, Wheeljack fires back, “My optic’s busted, but I don’t know- oh, wait,“ he cuts himself off, quieter now, and points at one of the seeker’s flared out wings. “Star, look.”

In the near-complete darkness of the room, the tiny glowing smudge of processed energon on the pointy tip of Starscream’s wing easily stands out. As the seeker turns his helm and freezes at the sight, Wheeljack’s recharge-addled processor manages to put the pieces together and he slumps, feeling exhausted now that the fear has passed.

“Looks like I’ve just had a little accident,” he chuckles, running proper diagnostics on the optic to see how far the damage goes, “no assassins here or nothing. Still, what kind of luck is that, huh?”

No reply is forthcoming. When Wheeljack looks over at Starscream, he finds his partner’s gaze flicking between his stained wing and his own busted optic with a guilty expression.

“You okay, Star?

“I hurt you,” rasps the seeker, an unexpected amount of self-reproach coloring every glyph.

“What? No, if anything I hurt myself, and it’s not like you poked my eye out on purpose,” he laughs quietly, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, it’s just a crack in the glass, the actual optic under is fine. I’ll pop over to the clinic in the morning, get it replaced, no problem. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

Starscream nods, shoulders relaxing a little, though his field still remains drawn close to his frame. “That’s good. Still, you’re hurt because of me, and that’s-“

“I know, I know. Seriously though, it’s fine,” says Wheeljack, scooting across the berth to put an arm around his seeker’s shoulders, lightly petting down the edge of one wing. “Wasn’t your fault. No hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings,” repeats Starscream, the tension finally leaving his frame as his field unfurls, gently meshing with Wheeljack’s. “Though perhaps you might benefit from inventing some sort of harder optical glass,” jokes the seeker dryly, “sounds like a nice potential side project for you.”

“Hah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As much as Starscream generally loathes the colonists and all the problems that come with them, he has to give them one thing: their entertainment programs are excellent. Not in terms of actual quality, Primus no, but they’re so over-the-top dramatic he can’t help but enjoy them.

It’s been a quiet evening so far, screaming protagonists in the show notwithstanding. Metroplex is stable, he’s caught up on his datawork and Wheeljack is a warm weight on his side, their fields comfortably intertwined.

“Wasn’t the red one over there conjunxed to that backstabbing emissary?” asks the engineer idly, looking up only for a moment before returning his attention to the tablet in his servos.

Starscream snorts. “That was two episodes ago. Besides, the whole thing was a sham in order to spy on the grand chancellor.”

“Seriously?” laughs Wheeljack, nudging him playfully. “And they call our relationship weird.”

“I think you should lay off the tabloids, dearest,” he says dryly, rolling his optics. “Just yesterday, they were accusing me of having a sordid affair with the mistress of flame, so I wouldn’t really put much stock in their opinion on anything.”

Wheeljack puts the tablet down, looking at him incredulously. “They said what now? Really?”

“Yes, really,” hums Starscream, before leaning over his lover with a teasing grin. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Why would I want some preachy old crone when I have you?”

Smiling up at him, Wheeljack throws both arms over his shoulders. “Y’know, sometimes I’m not sure why you’d want me either. Really glad you do, though,” he says, before retracting his mask and leaning in.

As their lips meet, the show’s characters start up their third shouting match of the episode, but no one’s really paying attention anymore.

[equallyshaw]

𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓭 | 𝓶𝓪𝓽 𝓫𝓪𝓻𝔃𝓪𝓵 𝓪𝓾 ↠ when are you going to give me a chance? - fic ↠ au masterlist!

warnings: swear words. word count: 1.2k

olivia had been busy brainstorming some jewelry releases and social media content for the better part of the morning. with matt and sydney taking the kids out for the morning and most of the afternoon, she could get some work done that she had been pushing off for a bit. it was now early march, and came out just for winnie's birthday and was spending a week here before flying back to los angeles.

she had just gotten up to get some more coffee, when she heard the front door open and close. "hello?" olivia called out unsurely, and then she saw a dark-haired figure appear. then the figure turned around towards her and she groaned in annoyance. "not you." she complained, and mat grinned walking over towards her. "hey pretty girl." mat grinned, as he walked into the kitchen. "please stop calling me that." she said before turning her back towards him, and next thing she knew he was wrapping his arms around the girl from behind. "missed youm y'know that?" he whispered, "mat i swear to god.." she trailed off and that only made him chuckle. she pushed him off as she moved back to the dining room with her laptop. "you know i love it when you say my name like that, makes me think of that one night." he hummed, leaning against the dining room archway. she looked up from her laptop and glared, "i thought we said we were never going to bring that up." she fumed. he smirked, "i remember you saying that, not me." he said walking over towards her - again. he sat down next to her, and she shifted back in her seat. she pulled a knee to her chest and stared back at him.

"why are you a cocky asshole?" she questioned and he threw his head back in laughter. she rolled her eyes, shut her laptop and collected her things to go upstairs. "come on pretty girl...talk to me." mat said resting a soft hand on her's. she looked at him and sighed, "you're a cocky son of a bitch mat, a real piece of work who doesn't take no for an answer. who thinks that he can do no wrong or that talking to me like im some sort of 'yes' girl is acceptable. im sick and tired of you treating me like a girl that you can charm and then dispose of because im not. and besides that one night, I've been nothing but distant can you not realize that?" she said fuming at this point. "you really are everything I've wanted." he mused before he could catch himself, "there you go- again! i don't find that attractive and newsflash, a lot of females don't either. we find it arrogant and very unattractive." she said ripping her hand away from his, "who do you think would date you or have a relationship with you if you didn't make a lot of money and played hockey huh? your personality certainly isn't attractive, which therefore makes you not very attractive." she huffed, "you thought i had feelings for you right? right mat?!" she demanded, and all he could do was softly nod. she had certainly hit a spot. "well news flash, i do not! and until right now, i haven't thought about you once since i left." she rasped, and mat sat there in silence as she headed upstairs to her room.

okay that was a lie, she had thought about him. but everytime she did, she would end up pissed off. pissed off because of how he believed he could talk to her like it was nothing, and the fact that they had spent the night together after the trip up to the hamptons with her sister and brother-in-law. well not together like that, but they woke up together the next morning. she certainly had stalked his instagram a few times, seeing if he posted anything but other than that- she didn't really care about the dude. but he made her so very pissed off, it made her fume. but the funny thing was, was that she knew there was sweet side to him. sure he may be arrogant and cocky, but that night that they spent together was sweet. he was sweet and saw a somewhat different side of him before they fell asleep with his head on his chest and his nose in the crook of her neck. but then he had slipped out before she had woken and left her feeling with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her feeling.

her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the wooden door, and she opened it to mat looking sullen. oh, how she hated that look on him. she opened the door wider for him to come in, and she shut it behind him. he sat down on the edge of the bed, and took in how it was exactly the same as last time. "you left me." she said crossing her arms, distracting mat from his thoughts. his eyebrows crinkled, "you. left. me. in the morning, you didn't say bye. you didn't even leave me a note or anything. how do you think that made me feel, huh?" she questioned tensely. mat was connecting the dots, now. "i know, i know that was wrong of me-" she cut him off, "you think?" she deadpanned, and saw him gulp as he thought of what to say next. "you made me feel used. you made me feel gross when we didn't even do anything to begin with. and i-i never want to feel that way again. i've felt like that in the past and it got me nowhere, and now you? i thought you were better than that. from what my sister and matt have said, i thought you would have never done that!" she confessed shaking her head. "im sorry olivia, i really am. there arent enough good words that i know to really show you how i feel, and for that im sorry. it was never my intention, i promise." he said truthfully and he only hoped that she could realize that.

"i havent been able to stop thinking about you, livi. i haven't been able to get you out of my mind this past month and a half, and im not sure if i ever want to stop. you completely ambushed me in the best way possible, you captivated me in ways I've never been captivated before. you walked into my life with your spunk and red hair and haven't left since. i haven't been able to sleep clearly, ive gone into trances, ive completely embarrassed myself in front of matt and your sister, ive become enamored by you livi. ive never wanted somebody so badly in my life, that ill do whatever it takes to get you to stay in my life- permanently and the right way." he pleaded, pulling her hands into his and softly nudging her to move between his legs. "what can i do for not only your forgiveness..but what can i do for you to give me a proper chance?" he questioned softly, as she stared down at him as her hands found his shoulders. her hands slowly clasped around his neck, pulling at his dark locks- softly.

with a grin as she leaned in closer, "gonna need a lot more than just words pretty boy." she hummed before pulling away.

and there you have it folks!!!

please like and reblog if you liked (:

tags: @toasttt11 @cillianthinker

[pluralfuture]

Fanfic inspider by @thisbelongsto-nohbodys 's future owlphibia au. Please excuse the fact that I have no idea how Ao3 works, so it's all posted here.

CW: Somewhat-more-than-canon-level violence, blood, minor swearing, and blatant shipping.

Armoured Knightmare

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

When Azura Noceda had met up with her frenemy, Lily Boonchuy, she hadn't expected their day to end up here. It was just supposed to be a normal hang out. But Lily had seemed especially down that day, so Azura figured a short adventure on the Isles would help cheer the blonde girl up.

It hadn't been long into their journey that Azura had noticed a structure she hadn't seen before. It looked old. Really old in fact. It was some sort of stone structure, looking almost like the entrance to an ancient tomb. Azura, of course, wanted to leave well enough alone. Who knew what sorts of traps were down there to kill potential grave robbers? But Lily marched towards it all the same.

“Lily, you're being stupid.” Azura said plainly as she jogged to catch up to her friend. “We have no idea what's down there.” Cotton, her tiny white bat palisman, squeaked in agreement from on top of Azura's head. Lily just gave Azura a look over her shoulder before continuing on.

“Listen, we came out here to adventure, right? What better adventure than an ancient, unopened tomb in a magical world?” Lily drew her sword and jammed the blade in between the two stone doors, and began to push on the sword, using it as an impromptu pry bar.

“The stuff above ground is dangerous enough.” Azura stated. Now that they were closer, she could make out faint carvings on the door. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say, but she could make out some sort of orb with tendrils stretching out, an armoured figure, and a group of witches and demons tearing the armoured figure apart. While she tried to figure out the carvings that were faded more than the others, she was startled by a loud scraping sound.

Lily smiled as she managed to open one of the doors enough to get a hold with her hand. Grabbing hold with both hands, she pulled, grunting in effort as she moved the large stone door. “Listen,” she said once it was open enough for her to slip inside, “I'm going down there. You can follow me, or you can stay up here. Doesn't matter to me either way.”

Before Azura could respond, she saw Lily slip inside the crack. Sighing, she started following after the blonde. “Why are you acting like this?” She muttered, more to herself than to Lily. If the other girl heard her, she didn't respond. All Azura knew was that Lily and her younger brother, Percy, got into some sort of argument, and Percy had said something about how Lily would never be like her moms. From what Azura knew of the younger kid, he had to have been pretty pissed off to say something that mean to his sister. And Azura partially understood why Lily felt the way she did. Her mom saved the Isles from Belos when she was younger than Azura was now, and Lily's moms had done the same for that other world, Amphibia. Both of them were daughters of legends, who had a lot to live up to. But sometimes, it seemed to Azura that Lily was either going to be a hero or die trying.

As the pair trudged deeper and deeper into the tomb, Azura drew a small circle in the air, casting a basic light spell and holding the floating orb in the air above her open palm. All around were mossy stone tiles and carvings covered in various vegetation. The carvings were practically gone, destroyed by the ravages of time. Whatever story - or warning - these carvings told was unable to be gleamed. However, Azura frowned at something else she noticed.

“There's no bodies or coffins.” The witchling noted aloud. Lily simply shrugged.

“So?” The human girl asked.

“A tomb of this size should have at least a few. Or even offerings to the dead or something. But it's just the stonework so far.”

“Well, maybe it's all just further in.”

“Bodies, maybe. But offerings are left near the entrance, so that visitors don't disturb the dead.” Azura pointed out. “And we've gotten far enough in anyways that there really should be bodies.”

Lily sighed. “Well, maybe it's not a tomb then. So, there's just something else to discover down here.”

“That's what worries me.” The witchling sighed and pet Cotton, who was letting out small, nervous squeaks.

The two continued deeper and deeper, the carvings soon giving way to smooth walls. And then, the hallway opened up to a massive stone room, easily a cube 50 feet in all directions. Azura jumped and Lily raised her sword as, when they passed the threshold from the hall to the room, light spells activated all around the room, illuminating it. The entire room was empty, save for some sort of stone throne with a rusted suit of armour slumped in the seat.

Lily sighed and looked around. “All this, for one suit of armour? Seems overkill.” Lily took a step forward, but Azura grabbed her arm tightly. In the witchlings hand, she held a miniature harp, one of her signature instruments for her bard magic.

“Lily, we should go. We can find something else to do. Maybe we can hike up the knee, fight a Slitherbeast or two. But we should leave this alone and tell someone else about it.” Azura's voice was filled with nervousness.

Lily grit her teeth and pulled her arm out of Azura's grip. “What, think I can't handle a dumb suit of armour?”

“Lily, that's not what I-”

“And even if it is magical and animates, it's not like I don't know how to fight!”

“I know that! I'm just saying-”

“What, that you think I don't have what it takes?!” Lily got right up to Azura, gripping her sword tight, knuckles turning white.

“I'm saying I don't want you to get hurt because you're too angry to think straight, you idiot!” Azura snapped. She panted heavily as she and Lily stared each other down. Lily glared hard at Azura.

“Screw. You.” Lily said, and marched towards the armour.

“Lily, wait!” Azura followed after her.

“If you're not going to help, just leave!” Lily yelled back at Azura without looking back.

Azura felt a growing sense of dread as they approached the armour. Something was very wrong, but she couldn't tell what.

Lily got right in front of the armour, staring down at it.

“Happy? It's just a normal set of abandoned armour. Now, please, can we just-” Azura yelled in surprise as Lily swung her sword with a scream, knocking the helmet clean off and sending it clattering to the floor. Azura watched Lily for a moment, the human girl panting heavily. It was only after a moment that Azura realized Lily wasn't panting, but starting to cry. Wordlessly, Azura pulled Lily into a hug. After about a minute, Lily finally spoke.

“I'm sorry.” Lily quietly said. “You're right. This was stupid. I just… What Percy said.”

“I know. I understand. Believe me. I really do. But if you need to blow off steam, there are much better places than old, creepy tombs.”

Lily chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” Lily sighed and stepped out of the hug, Azura letting her. She wiped away the last of her tears and sighed. “How about lunch instead?”

“Sure. But you're paying.” Azura said with a playful smirk, earning an equally playful chuckle and punch to the arm from her friend.

“I don't have any snails, dumbass.” Lily let a small smile creep onto her face.

The two of them began to walk out of the room, but the bright mood was quickly broken, both girls freezing in place as the sound of metal scraping along stone behind them. Slowly, and wide-eyed, they turned around. Behind them, the armour was slowly getting up from it's throne, it's joints creaking with untold years of built up rust. From where it had landed on the floor, the helmet was floating up and over to the body. With a dull, hollow clank, it landed back where Lily had knocked it from. The armour rolled it's non-existent neck, pulling a sword from behind the throne and staring down the two young adventurers with empty, hateful eyes.

“Lily?”

“Run?”

“Run!”

The two spun around and started sprinting towards the hallway they had come from. Behind them, they heard the animated armour rapidly approaching. Azura spun around and strummed her harp, creating a magic shockwave that she hoped would cause the armour to stumble. When nothing happened, Azura whistled for Cotton, who transformed into its staff form, Azura hopping on.

“Hop on!” Azura yelled at Lily, holding her hand out to Lily. Lily reached out and grabbed hold.

And then the sword came down on her back.

And Azura saw a spray of red come from the wound.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Azura pulled Lily up quickly, holding the now limp girl close. She sped off on Cotton, the armour chasing after them, though with the speed boost from riding her palisman, Azura quickly outpaced it. She blasted through the open door, skidding to a halt and placing Lily down gently on the ground before running over and pushing as hard as she could to close it, Cotton even flapping over to help her. She could still hear the armour rushing towards them, which only spurred Azura on more. Just as she thought she was going to be trampled by the running armour, she slammed the stone door shut, the armour slamming into it from the other side, but seemingly unable to push it open from its side. Deciding that would have to do for now, Azura picked Lily up and rushed her to the only place she could think of.

Lily was breathing shallow, and looked up at Azura. “Z-Zura. I… I need to tell you something…”

“You can tell me later, okay?” Azura said, wishing now more than ever she didn't inherent her mama's weak nerd arms.

“No. No, please. Let me tell you. Please.” Lily's voice was weak, each word a struggle.

Azura had tears in her eyes, her attempts to speak failing and just slowly nodding.

“I… I like you ‘Zura. I know… I know I denied it, but… I… I like you.” Lily admitted, her eyes slowly closing.

“Hey. Hey, you keep your eyes open, okay? Lily? Lily?!” Azura shook the girl as she passed out in Azura's arms. Seeing where she was heading, she burst through the door, nearly out of breath. “AUNT VINEY! I NEED HELP!”

What happened next was a blur. She breathlessly explained vaguely what happened to Viney, who took Lily away. Emira contacted Amity and Luz, who in turn contacted Anne, Sasha and Marcy. When everyone arrived, Amity and Luz checked on Azura, while Anne, Sasha and Marcy waited with Percy and Maddy, Lily's younger sister and the youngest sibling, waited for Viney to finish up with Lily. All Azura could pick up was when her Aunt Viney said Lily's wound healed without a scar. After what felt like an eternity, Anne walked up to Azura, getting down to eye level.

Azura looked at Anne with teary eyes. “I-I'm so sorry. I… I… I'm sorry.”

Anne softly smiled and put a comforting hand over Azura's. “Hey. Don't be. Lily told us what happened. You saved her, Azura. Thank you. So much.” Anne softly pulled Azura into a short hug. “Now, Lily says she wants to talk to you about something.”

Azura nodded, getting up and walking past the rest of Lily's family. Sasha looked over at Azura as the witchling passed by and mouthed a silent “Thank you,” before going back to keeping their youngest daughter occupied.

Azura entered the room where Lily was lying in a bed. Already, the human girl looked much better. Azura took a seat beside Lily.

“So… um… your mom said you wanted to talk to me?” Azura shifted awkwardly in her seat, unsure if Lily remembered what she had said on the way here. Lily nodded.

“First off, thanks. And… And you were right. We definitely shouldn't have gone down there.”

Azura sighed softly. “While you're right, I probably should have done something more to stop you. But what's important is that you're okay now.” She smiled softly.

Lily nodded. A small blush formed on her cheeks. “And… um… I meant what I said. On our way here.”

It was Azura's turn to blush, her face going as red as a tomato. “O-Oh. Um. O-Of course. I… I just wasn't sure if you remembered.” Azura shifted awkwardly again. “Um…” Azura sighed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked Lily in the eyes. “I… I think I like you too, Lily.”

Lily's blush grew even brighter. “So… what does that mean for us?”

Azura took a deep breath. “I… I think this means… We take it slow. One date at a time. And see where we go from there.” Azura took Lily's hand with a smile. Lily smiled back.

“I think I can deal with that.”

From the doorway, Percy laughed. “Called it!” He received a pillow to the face from his sister for his troubles.

~Fin~

[lvrsmg]

something there

pairing: assassin!mingi x assassin trainee!reader (gender not specified)

part two : here !

theme: fluff, kinda angst if you squint, only one bed au

cw: mentions of blood, injury, i don’t think there’s swearing

lowercase intended!

this is sort of a preview, so lmk if you guys want a part two or a full series based off of this!!

this is my veryyyyy first written fic so please leave feed back! enjoy! :)

~~

clad in heavy clothes- from the bulletproof vest hanging off his chest to the giant combat boots that he wore on his feet- mingi was sure to stick out compared to the clean and sleek nature of the hotel. you yourself weren’t any better, though your face was more gentle-looking than mingi’s, you were wearing a similar uniform, missing a matching gun that should be slung across your back. only mingi had one, your back and thigh holsters were empty. but the most daunting part must've been the blood and grime that littered across your faces, the small cuts dancing across your skin.

the process of getting a room was difficult, the receptionists’ hands were shaking, and he kept stuttering every other word in his sentence.

mingi heaved a sigh.

“just give us any room you have,” he grumbled, warily glancing around at the stares people were giving you two.

looking up and opening your mouth to protest, the words died on your tongue when you found that mingi was already looking at you. he didn’t have to say anything to shut you up. with a soft sigh, you looked away, taking the room key that the receptionist held out, not missing the violent tremble in his hand. you smiled gently in attempts to calm the poor boy, but you doubt he felt more at ease.

the heavy thump of both your combat boots echoed through the corridor as you strode towards the elevators, you couldn’t help but wince at the sound.

mingi didn’t seem to care, continuing his march. once reaching the elevator, he glanced back at you, only to find that you were jogging to catch up with him sporting only your socks. his brows furrowed together, eyeing the boots in your hands.

“what’re you doing? put your shoes on.” his voice was more demanding than it was with the receptionist, but it didn’t phase you.

“they’re uncomfortable, and everyone’s staring at us. the last thing we need right now is for someone to report us. we look like assassins.” glancing up at him for a moment, you noticed how his finger worked at the furrow between his brows.

“y/n, we are assassins.” he countered in a low voice. you sighed.

“exactly. we can’t go around making it more obvious.”

mingi fell quiet after your response, the only noise following was the repetitive thump of his boots as he walked into the elevator. you, on the other hand, slipped in without a noise.

checking the card number, you pressed the 11th floor, watching the doors close and tensing just a bit as silence engulfed the elevator.

the corny elevator music played, almost tauntingly, as you and mingi stood as stiff as boards, mingi occasionally adjusting the bag slung over his back.

you took interest in looking down at your socks. simple white socks, peeping out from the ends of your cargo pants that now just touched the ground.

mingi noticed it too, and he’d never admit the smile that tried to cross his lips.

‘cute,’ he thought.

it was an uncomfortably long ride, but the doors finally opened to the 11th floor. mingi didn’t overpass how you almost ran out of the elevator, as if the silence was suffocating. in your defence, he thought it was too.

rhythmic stomps of mingi’s continued, as did the silence, but it was better that you were walking.

reaching room 1147, you slid the key into the door and unlocked the door, pushing it open and walking into the small room. mingi walked in after you, and from where you two stood, you could only see one bed.

you silently cursed in your head.

putting your shoes down, you walked further into the tiny room and found nothing more than a singular double bed and an armchair pushed in the corner of the room. of course, there was also a desk and tv, as well as an electric kettle and complimentary tea, but those were the least of your concerns.

“huh,” came mingi’s voice, “only one bed.”

“yeah,” your response was slow.

“i can sleep on the floor, if you want,” he was doing his best to offer you comfort, clearly hearing your hesitance.

he earned a scoff in response.

“don’t be stupid, mingi,” you answered, “we’re adults. we can share a bed without being immature about it.” despite your tone, you were beyond nervous about sharing a bed.

“okay, i’ll shower first.” mingi didn’t seem to be phased at all, and he wasn’t. sure, he found you attractive, but it was just sleeping. no big deal, right?

after a nod from you, mingi disappeared into the washroom. you tried to calm yourself in the meantime, updating hongjoong on your status (leaving out the bed-sharing part), making yourself tea, removing your vest and holsters, but your nerves didn’t dissipate.

mingi left the bathroom after not long, his bright orange hair was wet but slicked back, and he was wearing black joggers and a white tee that he had probably brought in his bag. his cuts were seemingly cleaned and his face was free from any dirt or blood. it would be a lie if you said your eyes didn’t linger on the press of his abdomen against the white fabric, or how you didn’t gaze at the muscle tone along his arm, your eyes working down to where the waistband of his pants clung.

mingi didn’t fail to notice this, but he didn’t say anything, even when you had to shake yourself just a bit out of your trance.

without another word, you slipped into the bathroom, turning on the shower to let it heat. you glanced in the mirror, wincing at the state of your face and hair. mingi had been nice enough to only use two towels, which you had spotted in the laundry bin, leaving you with many more to use. you wiped off some of the dirt on your face, grimacing at the feeling of small rocks and dirt rubbing across and in the cuts. you were quick to strip yourself of your remaining clothes, slipping under the hot stream of water and continuing the cleaning process. the water was harsh against the smaller cuts, but you cleaned yourself thoroughly despite the pain.

in the middle of rinsing the conditioner from your hair, a knock sounded through the washroom.

“..yeah?” you tried to speak loudly over the rush of the shower, hoping he had heard you.

“i have a change of clothes for you.” came his response, quiet but you heard it.

“oh, uh,” you paused for a moment, “can you wait for a second?” you heard his affirmative grunt. speeding up and rinsing the last of the conditioner from your hair, you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in a towel. walking over to the door, you peeped it open a bit, going to stick your head out, but instead your forehead collided with something.

something being mingi’s back.

“oh,” he said, looking down at your head, “here.”

your ears became red, looking up for a split second, before grabbing the clothes and shutting the door quickly. you didn’t catch it, but mingi let his lips quirk up just a bit before sitting back down in the comically small armchair.

you took your sweet time in drying yourself off and brushing your teeth, slipping on the long sleeve black shirt and shorts that had been provided to you. taking a slight breath, you stepped out of the bathroom with your dirtied uniform in one hand.

you offered a tight lip smile to mingi, who wasn’t even looking at you.

“i ordered room service for our uniforms, just leave them in the laundry bin and they’ll be back by morning,’ mingi spoke up, motioning to the laundry bin. you nodded, slipping your clothes into the bin.

“you have training in first aid, right?” mingi broke the silence again, and you turned to face him.

“yeah, i do,” you nodded, sitting on the bed.

mingi held up a first aid kit.

“we should treat our cuts before they get infected.”

you nodded again, walking over to him and taking the kit from his hands. eyeing the armchair, you chuckled at how small he made it look when he sat in it.

“you should sit on the bed,” you spoke through your chuckle, “i think you’re too big for the armchair.”

mingi nodded, his face void of emotion as he sat on the bed instead.

you opened up the kit, taking out what you needed to treat the tiny injuries, and setting them out.

mingi’s eyes followed your hands, glancing up at you every now and then, but looking away before you would be able to notice.

“tell me what you’re doing while you do it, i’ll do yours when you’re done.” he said, to which you nodded in response, again hiding your anxiety.

“i’ll disinfect the cuts with alcohol first,” you began to explain, soaking a cotton bud with rubbing alcohol, “it’s gonna sting so just- be ready, or something.”

you awkwardly slot yourself between his legs, trying to control the heat working up your neck, and focused on the cuts along his face.

your lips were moving, forming words, but mingi didn’t hear anything. he watched the way your eyebrows creased in focus as you cleaned around his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose and on his cheek. he couldn’t even feel the sting, all he could feel was the minty cool of your breath fanning against his face, how he could feel the heat of your body radiating onto him, and the touch of your hand against the skin of his face.

he had found you pretty from the day he saw you- from the day you had ended up tangled up with his team. but he never let his guard down, he couldn’t. he didn’t even know why.

but the bat of your eyelash and the gaze in your eyes was enchanting. the slope of your nose and the curve of your lip was made so perfectly, he couldn’t look away

he felt you pull away, blinking a bit and watching you prepare bandaids to place on his face.

he wasn’t fully concious even when you stuck them on, listening to your voice but not your words, staring at the movement of your lips.

“mingi?” god, how he loved the way his name sounded on your tongue.

“mingi, are you there?” he was there, he’d always be right there for you.

“hello? mingi!” the sudden volume of your voice startled him, waking him up from whatever trance he was in.

“huh?” he said, blinking and straightening his back.

“you’re done,” you let out a small laugh, “are you okay?”

“yeah- yes. i’m fine. do you want me to do yours?” he quickly changed the topic, standing up.

you shook your head and waved him off.

“i’ll do my own, don’t worry.” mingi wouldn’t lie and say that didn’t disappoint him. but he nodded either way, letting you step away and disappear with the first aid kit into the bathroom.

mingi stood there for a minute longer, running his hands over the bandaid above his eyebrow, before rubbing his eyes.

‘what the hell is up with you, mingi?’ he spoke to himself in his head, falling back onto the bed, keeping his hands over his face.

it wasn’t long before you came out of the bathroom, and almost instantly, there was a knock on the door, making both you and mingi tense.

“room service!” the woman's voice on the other side of the door had your shoulders relaxing, but mingi stayed tense.

you approached the door, hand going to unlock the lock and pull it open, but a large hand encompassing your wrist stopped you.

“get behind me.” mingi’s voice was low and quiet, the speed that he had come up behind you was alarming.

“mingi, it’s just room service-”

“i said get behind me.” his tone caught you off guard, and you complied, letting go of the handle and standing behind him.

his hand didn’t leave your wrist, even when he carefully opened the door. you noticed, staring down at his firm grip against your skin.

“hello, darling! i’m here to pick up your laundry!” the older woman beamed a smile, but you could sense the shock in her voice, probably from the way mingi was staring her down.

“oh, yeah, thanks,” the kindness in mingi’s voice surprised you, watching as he turned to grab the laundry bin with one hand, still holding onto you, and handed it off to the woman.

“hoo! quite the load you’ve got here!” she giggled, “i’ll have it here by 6am tomorrow, as per your request,” she assured with a smile, and you missed the gentle smile mingi gave in response.

“thanks so much, have a lovely night ma’am.” mingi respectfully bid farewell to the woman.

“you too! i’m sure you lovers will enjoy the size-y bed!” she wiggled her thin brows and chuckled again.

your eyebrows shot up in surprise, words of objection already on your tongue, but mingi beat you to it.

“we sure will,” he laughed, “goodnight!” and with a final smile, he shut the door.

he turned to look at you, both your eyes simultaneously going down to look at his hand around your wrist. a beat of silence passed before he finally let go. without another word, he walked by you, turning off the main room light in the process, leaving only the lamps on for ambiance.

you stood in place for a second, your own hand going up to touch where his wrist was, but you quickly frowned and shook off the feeling, walking over to the bed, and sliding into bed right after mingi had.

“goodnight,” you offered in a raspy voice.

“goodnight.” he answered, speaking through a yawn.

you reached over to turn off the lamp, and the room submerged into darkness.

mingi was fast to fall asleep, you could tell by how even and slow his breaths had become. you, on the other hand, were restless. you kept changing positions, suddenly hyper aware of his every breath and movement.

you assumed for around 30 minutes, you continued to move, tossing and turning, not able to find a comfortable position, meanwhile mingi was dead asleep, soft snores falling from his mouth that slightly parted open.

your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you were able to see faintly, but nothing clear. you dared to turn towards mingi, your eyes tracing over his sleeping face. he looked much more at peace, his brows were relaxed instead of how they were usually set, and his lips weren’t in a permanent frown. he was pretty.

not pretty enough to keep you still, though. you continued for another 10 minutes- moving and moving, your heart beating too fast in your chest and your skin flushing every now and then.

all your movement came to a crashing halt as mingi released a soft groan, shifting for the first time in the whole night, and turning towards you. you could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and just as you were processing that, his heavy arm came down and slung across your waist. you froze completely, feeling the way his arm circled around you and pulled you closer into his body. your breathing hitched a bit, and you remained completely stiff for longer than you would like to admit.

“y/n,” mingi’s breath tickled your ear, his voice was deep and rich with sleep, “relax.”

the word was spoken in a whisper, a shiver trailing up your spine, goosebumps littering your skin.

you inhaled deeply, shutting your eyes and breathing out, and almost immediately you began to settle comfortably.

all of the sudden, the mattress was softer, the comforter more warm, and the pillow fluffier. your eyelids grew heavier by the second, your heart rate slowing, and finally, you fell asleep. mingi didn’t let go for the whole night.

~~

part two : here !

[blazehedgehog]

ICYMI: My Sonic Frontiers Criticism/Essay Is Out Now

So here's the last four months of my life come to fruition: the longest piece of edited criticism I've ever put on my Youtube channel, clocking in at just over an hour. For those of you that may be new around here, I am pretty against making long videos. I don't know if I overthink things too much or what, but it's rare for me to have much tolerance for feature-length reviews of things. They can wear me out just watching them, and it definitely wears me out to make them.

But sometimes you just have a lot to say. And I didn't even necessarily say everything I could have said here; there were things I would have added if not for the looming deadline proposed by the video sponsor. That's not a complaint -- sometimes you need someone else to tell you "be done by this date or else." Limitations foster creativity and toiling away at perfection can sometimes be just as toxic as crunch.

What I was trying to say is it's a big video, and it was hard keeping everything straight in my head because there was so much. One of those times where I was glad how I planned things out in advance, because sometimes the thoughts you had four months ago are not the same thoughts you have today, and the thoughts from four months ago were better.

It's already proving to be a bit of a divisive video, given I am going against the grain here. But I'm a big boy. I've spent time on the front lines of these sorts of things before. I know how to handle myself. I mean, half the reason I started my tumblr back in the day was pointing out some of the truly deranged takes I'd get in the replies to my Sonic 06 video.

Though I do worry. I'm getting a lot of people who are... politely declining to tell me what they think. More than a few "I don't agree with you, but I'm glad you released this video" that then never elaborate further. And that makes me feel bad? But why? Do I want to argue with my friends? Not particularly.

But more to the point, are people afraid to argue with me? Do I get too aggressive? I've picked up on a vibe, not just from friends, where people seem to go out of their way to avoid arguments with and/or around me. I mean I literally just said I started my Tumblr blog as a "get a load of this guy in my comments" spotlight (which, for the record, I don't do anymore). I don't want to be scary. But is it scary, or is it a strength? Or am I just imagining the whole thing? History says it's probably that last one, but it doesn't stop me from wondering. It's a lot to chew on.

At the end of the day, I do think parts of this script could have been better. I do kind of get a little mean at a couple points in ways I could have written around. A lot of people are bristling at the opening spiel, where I get more than a little "you people" about the Game Awards voting situation. There's another part later in the video where I also feature actual comments from a previous video and as I was editing it together I thought, "this sounds mean." But given I was less than 24 hours away from that deadline, I just had to roll with it (so I at least blurred the names and cropped the avatars out).

I'll end this post by quoting what I wrote on Patreon day before yesterday for the early access version of this video:

What a march this has been. I've worked on some videos that felt like they took forever, but nothing like this. This felt like the project that would never end. Some of that's because, after pushing myself so hard on the Sonic Adventure 2 video, I tried to be a little more casual with this one. I think I started the script around the end of April, a couple weeks after finishing the game on-stream. The idea was to avoid burnout.  And then the script grew, and grew, and grew, to be the longest script I've ever written. After doing voice over, I had three hours of material I had to cut down. I captured more than 60 hours of gameplay from more than 50 games. Thank goodness I took the time to stop and "storyboard" out this review like I did with the SA2 video. It actually proved to be extremely valuable here -- with a video this long, that takes so long to put together, it's hard to keep all of your ideas hot and ready in your head. Often I'd fall back to the storyboard and realize I planned something months ago that was way better than what I was doing in the moment.  And then in July, a sponsor came calling again. Suddenly I had a real deadline. The last four weeks have been a race to move this mountain of material into something resembling the shape of a video. The last couple days in particular have felt something like a miracle. A work ethic I hadn't tapped into in years suddenly roared to life as I locked down 20+ minutes of video in a matter of hours. It may have involved several actual panic attacks and me running on about four hours of sleep, but here we are. I was revising the script all the way up until a week ago. In retrospect, the sponsor segment probably leans a little too much on SAGE content, but by the time I realized that the train was barreling down the tracks too fast to stop. Thoughts for next time, I guess.

Patrons get a PDF of the script I used, including an unfinished earlier draft I abandoned where I think I was actually even meaner about it, if you can believe it. They also get a PDF of what my "storyboarding" process looks like (which is all just text).

I'll probably toss up a post for all the art I made for this video, too.

[short-black-diamond]

Fiction against Reality 2.

First part

Word count: 1,5 k

...

Last time:

He wishes to just see you face to face so badly that he doesn't even notice when the door to his room opens and something strange happens.

---

Somewhere, in a town or village, you were chilling with your sweet dog, about to turn on the TV. Strange thing was, it was raining and thundering the day prior and now the damn television won't show a picture. Or you forgot to buy more batteries for your remote. Either way, no matter which button you pressed on, no reaction made itself clear.

Meanwhile, your dog was having the time of its life by playing with that old toy you got them a few months back. However, your sweet pal was acting more like a brat now and of course, it had to knock against you so hard that you hit the TV.

But what was even more strange, was, that you didn't hit your head against the display, no, it seemed like the monitor became some sort of portal, which was sucking you in at the moment.

And before you could do anything else, you got sucked into a big, calm but intense, dark purple tunnel in nothing but a pair of converse shoes, jeans, a black tank top and your vest. your phone in your backpocket dared to slip out but you caught it before it could fly away from you and you, who was screaming as if you were on a rollercoaster, fell into that tunnel towards a source of light, which got darker the closer you got.

You got even more scared by that, your nerves on haywire, and before you knew it, your butt landed in a hallway...or was it a corridor? It looked like a corridor like a normal apartment or house would have. You looked around you. You were sitting on a carpeted floor, behind you was a door, and right and front of you, each one and a half feet away. There was also another door.

Right next to you. Should you open it-

WAit! How could this even happen? I mean, the TV not working, your own pet pushing you- with(out) intention?- into the screen which seems to have become some sort of entrance to another world, with no connection to your home? What happened to your dog? Does your phone work? How long were you falling? one look at your gave you the answer. You had the scariest time of your life, starting with spending the last two minutes falling into an endless seeming void and now ending up in a room- corridor- whatever!

You stood up, looking at the door again. Should you say something? Knock? Yeah, knock first...

So, you knocked at the door closest to you, but there was no response. You grew too courious to not open the door and when you did, you saw somebody who was way too familiar not to notice; him.

...

"...Uhm, hello?", you called, making yourself known. He whipped around, and then he stared. You frowned. "Wait a second...!", you said, marching over to him.

He, who was questioning but also thanking the stars and everybody he knew to see you, right in front of him, in flesh. "I-how-you-huh?", he only made out and he looked like a fish gaping for water.

Meanwhile, you were too occupied examining the background picture on his PC he had, which was one of your selfies, but it wasn't even a good one. You were looking way too tired in it, it was blurred because your precious puppy at that time decided to attack you with licking your face the moment you snapped that pic and your hair was way weirder back then. "Why and from where do you have that picture of me."

It was more like a sentence, like a demand. He feared that he could ruin his chances with you- if he even had any -and stood in front of the monitor to block your vision from it. And now, there he was, blushing heavily as he tried to reason to his crush, who shouldn't even be in the fictional world, why he had that selfie of you as his background.

So... what better way was there than to tell the truth?

He didn't want to lie to you, he never could. And he didn't lie, at first, that is. He told you about how you were a real person and how you somehow seemed to have ended up here, in this fictional universe, was a mystery to him (which he was actually very thankful for) and how there must have been somebody or something that might've triggered that. But he didn't tell you about his feelings to you, nor did he even think about confessing...yet.

Hearing all these theses and ideas and theories made your head spin and heart hurt, no matter how much you tried to look on the bright side. "So, you're (his name) from (anime/game/etc.) and want to tell me all those things about alternate-/multi- and metaverses? Please, tell me about that pic you have of me then, because it makes me uneasy that a guy like you has it."

If there was one thing he loved, it was how straight forward you could be, even when you landed in another universe. And, well, that whole ordeal of beating around the bush would be no use if you're cutting it down, right?

"W-well, there is something I didn't tell you; whenever you play a game, read a webtoon/manga/etc., or watch anime/a series or anything in that matter, the characters from that fiction...become real. But not like real real humans, no. They...develop themselves more than the writers and authors give price or even know. For example, I, am (his name) from (that world) and there, we do (this and that) as you know already."

You nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed, to which he squealed internally. "So you guys can become...your own person, to put it simple." "Yes, also! Well, that's how I got that picture of you in the first place, uh...we can kinda...have acces to your personal data? Ehehe...heh..he...", he trailed off, not wanting to meet your disturbed face.

Then you made a disgusted face. "So, in other words, you're all perverts!", you yelled, jumping up and grabbing him by the collar. "Listen here, boy, I'm not some easy target to pry on, get it? I'm from (insert your home country) and there, we are very hard and tough. Life is tough there. If you don't want me to make it tough for you, then you better delete that damn picture and tell your friends to stop looking at my stuff, if you know what's best for you."

---

Bruh I have no thoughts anymore, it's currently 22:01 at my place so yeah I'd call it a night

read you guys in the next chapter :)

P.S. : Please tell me what p.s. stands for and second, please give me more ideas and motivation to continue.

Taglist: @tejas-kris

[tjodity]

GOD IF YOU HAVE ANY COCONUT WINS IDEAS I WOULD LOVE TO BEAR TJEM SO BADLY I WOULD KILL SOMEONE

UM. YES. I have so many fics to try and write in the month of march but i've got writers block so im not really procrastinating so I will talk abt this!!! Some ideas:

-Okay so the big important first change is that Fundy's voter fraud can't be proven. The numbers are still suspicious, but nobody can prove that they were tampered with. COCONUT2020 beats POG2020 and SCHLATT2020+SWAG2020 in a massive landslide.

-Schlatt never lets this go from the second he hears it. he knows in his bones that he was cheated. Niki is on an edge of not being able to make a sure decision about it. Quackity, George, Tubbo, and Tommy are all fairly pissed about it.

-Losing the election to his son and his first lady fully fucks up Wilbur. He mumbles congratulations and then fully leaves L'Manberg to go off into the woods and build like. a house. imagine how he was in pogtopia but he has no one to fight and no one to talk to and no justifiable reasons to himself to be upset at all.

-Fundy and Niki become co-presidents. Niki appoints Tommy as L'Manberg's scout so he has an excuse to try and find Wilbur. With no exiles, no dictatorship, and no underground rebellion L'Manberg has a lot of people who don't see eye to eye and can say what they want.

-opposing political parties form pretty soon after. Schlatt, Quackity, and Tubbo form a party on the basis of preserving L'Manberg's integrity, making it a better place to live, and integrating more with the SMP. This is referred to as the Opposing Party but I'm sure if it was real lore it would have a very stupid name. Niki, Fundy, George, and Karl end up in a looser party focused on getting an upper hand in ongoing external conflicts and maintaining L'Manberg as a cohesive unit. This is referred to as the Presidential Party. Hbomb stays relatively neutral and Tommy tries to play negotiator. I'm not sure which side Ponk would be swayed towards.

-Niki and Schlatt sort of come up as the biggest political figures. Fundy gets increasingly weird and reclusive as time goes on and Quackity handles a lot of the actual logistics of running L'Manberg. Fighting an uphill battle with a team of people keeps Schlatt a lot more grounded than he was in Manberg. Niki on the other hand is fucking panicking because she feels like she's been dragged into a set of beliefs she doesn't really agree with but she doesn't really know how to keep everything moving. She tends to go towards fairly straightforward and firm answers to problems which keeps pushing her towards militarization.

-Dream doesn't really get a chance to be a villain, at least to the extent he is in the main story. The result of 2nd Era L'Manberg politics is that the country is expanding quickly and acting with sporadic violence with no predictable diplomatic policy, which is a nightmare for him. He ends up resolving that L'Manberg is a much more pressing issue than the disc conflict and devotes a lot of his time to normal diplomacy. Also due to the different position of Schlatt he never hears about the Revival Book.

-Tommy and Dream could actually resolve their issues a little here. Tommy is the only L'Manbergian trying to soften conflicts between the parties and also spends a lot of his time out in the SMP as a scout. He's also lost a lot of confidence in most of his friends and mostly wants everything to calm down. There wants align enough for them to partially work together and I think that at this point they could reasonably figure out their shit.

-Sapnap becomes a much bigger threat. Coconut winning basically resulted in the country of L'Manberg becoming his enemy. I don't think he'd get as fucked up as Dream did but he was also a pretty violent person to begin with and I could see him both escalating and broadening the conflict.

-I don't have a lot more ideas I can remember than that! Some more may come to me but I think it's fascinating! Take some very quick drawings

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Make it better

Series: Honkai Star Rail

Relationship: JingHeng

Rating: T

Warnings: this was written before the 1.4 update and also dh's companion quest so uhh there might be some inaccuracies

Summary:

It has taken many months for Dan Heng to come to terms with it, but Dan Feng was not defined solely by his unforgivable crime aboard the Luofu, nor could he be held fully responsible for Dan Heng’s childhood of imprisonment. After all, what weight could a deceased man’s wishes possibly hold when he had already been irreversibly condemned in the days leading to his death?

Thus sparks the next question: what sort of person had Dan Feng really been?

As fate would have it, the one person he could very well ask now happens to be within reach.

Also on AO3 

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

“...and why are you asking me this?”

Dan Heng crosses his arms, doing his best to come across unfazed by the aggressive puppy-eyed looks Caelus and March are giving him. He leans away when March pushes closer, his core muscles working hard to hold him steady.

“Because!!” she says, a bit too loud for the mere handspan of distance between them. “We’d really love to have Jing Yuan on board for a while!”

“But we wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Caelus adds, gently tugging March back by the shoulder before Dan Heng could stumble from tilting too far back. He sure sounds calm and collected for someone who looks like they’ve been silently begging Dan Heng to say yes, please say yes ever since entering the room.

Dan Heng knits his brow, averting his gaze. “If there’s already a majority vote in favour of it, then—”

“The consensus is that he does not set a single foot onto the Astral Express until we get the okay from you!” March insists with a stubborn puff of her cheeks. Dan Heng’s frown deepens as he wonders how had the situation ended up like this. Though the answer is probably Caelus and his simple enthusiasm in wanting his new friends to have a taste of what the Express offers, it’s not that difficult to guess. If Dan Heng was one to prefer keeping his safe space all to himself, Caelus sits on the other end of the spectrum, always eager to share and show off his sources of comfort.

Dan Heng knows, of course, the actual reason why everyone is so adamant about getting his consent in particular when it comes to the guest in question. Calling his relationship with Jing Yuan “complicated” might be a gross understatement, he must admit. It’s been nearly two years since their mission aboard the Luofu, two years since Dan Heng was forced to face a past he’d been desperately running away from for over a century.

It’s been two years since his past greeted him not with the terrifyingly sharp edges of a shattered blade for once, but instead the gentlest smile filled with deep, unimaginable sorrow.

Dan Heng does not like the way Jing Yuan looks at him. He hated the undying expectation, the longing that threatened to crush him with all the weight of a bygone past. He is not Dan Feng, will never be Dan Feng. Though his flesh and bones may be the same, though they might share the same face, the same voice, perhaps even the same soul, at the very core of it all—Dan Feng is no longer here.

That’s how it should’ve been. Dan Heng did not understand why then, had his heart ached the way it did upon his reunion with Jing Yuan.

Sure, he remembers him personally sending him off on the day of his exile, and he knows he must’ve been the one who’d liaised with his master in a faraway planet to care for him and help train him back into fighting shape to defend himself from harm. He’d hidden Cloud Piercer within his supplies as well, and he’s probably also the one who slipped in a few extra books knowing the familiarity would help comfort him during a journey into the vast unknown. For these, Dan Heng is infinitely grateful.

But that still does not mean they should be more than simple acquaintances.

Truth to be told, Jing Yuan’s presence scares Dan Heng. All his hard work in dissociating himself from his predecessor, in convincing himself that he is his own person and all the experiences that define him, no one else—feels challenged whenever he is within Jing Yuan’s proximity. Why does he always experience inexplicable emotions in his presence? Why does part of him mourn for him, why does he have such intense urges to pull him into his arms and hold him, hold him until whatever’s keeping his old soul hurting fades away into nothing but a distant memory?

Where do the lingering traces of Dan Feng within him end, and where does Dan Heng begin when it comes to all these feelings?

Dan Heng has spent much far too long pondering over such questions, and even now, he’s certain he wouldn’t know what to do even if he ever finds the answers.

For the longest time, Dan Heng loathed Dan Feng for the fact that he had to bear his punishment. Some venerable High Elder he was, letting his next incarnation—nothing more than a child—shoulder the consequences of his sins. How cruel, selfish and shameless he was, to cause a child to grow up knowing only the confines of darkness and the unyielding pain of cursed stakes pierced into his flesh.

Yet contrary to all of these, all the suffering he had inherently brought him, Dan Feng also seemed to have been very loved. Many echoes at Scalegorge Waterscape spoke fondly of him, reminiscing his kindness, his warm heart, his sacrifices. Jing Yuan has never stopped loving him even after hundreds of years, and maybe, just maybe, that meant something.

It has taken many months for Dan Heng to come to terms with it, but Dan Feng was not defined solely by his unforgivable crime aboard the Luofu, nor could he be held fully responsible for Dan Heng’s childhood of imprisonment. After all, what weight could a deceased man’s wishes possibly hold when he had already been irreversibly condemned in the days leading to his death?

Thus sparks the next questions: what sort of person had Dan Feng really been? What exactly had led to his rampage and what was the sin he’d committed that made the entire Alliance attempt to erase his feats from history?

Dan Heng had steeled himself to search for some answers himself, but all recorded material he managed to get his hands on were vague at best. The Xianzhou seems to have worked extremely hard to keep the actual sequence of events under wraps, which only confused Dan Heng further because why? Was it a matter of saving face? Had Dan Feng’s actions really brought so much shame to the Alliance that they would rather he stayed being known as nothing but a traitor for the rest of history despite all he has done for them?

It did not sit well with Dan Heng, somehow. He could not exactly pinpoint why it was so, but there’s something uniquely frustrating about knowing that he didn’t know nearly enough.

And as fate would have it, the one person he could very well ask just so happens to be within reach.

“...Dan Heng?” March prompts, her concerned voice tugging Dan Heng out of his thoughts. He blinks back into attention, not realizing how long he’d spent spacing out. “You can take your time thinking it over, you don’t have to answer us immediately.”

Perhaps Dan Heng really has spent far too long with his current companions, because his decision is entirely too spontaneous even to himself. But he also knows that if he doesn’t act now, he could very well remain hesitant for the rest of his life.

So he takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Sure, Jing Yuan can join us if he wants.”

xXx

And so, an emergency spring cleaning ordered by Pom-Pom and a warp jump later, it was time for the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu to board the Astral Express.

Upon Jing Yuan’s insistence, it’s to be an extremely simple affair. The Express pulls in at one of the Luofu’s countless docks, and Jing Yuan will be there waiting for them.

And so he is. Alone. No Cloud Knights sending him off, no Master Diviner Fu to make snide remarks and assure him that the Luofu will be fine in her ever-capable hands even if he decides to leave for good. Jing Yuan stands alone at the platform, dressed in loose robes and a single bag slung over his shoulder, as he waits for the Astral Express to come to a stop.

Dan Heng has a growing suspicion that this might actually be part of his secret plans to sneak off without being noticed, but he promptly decides that’s none of his business.

The crew welcomes Jing Yuan with a shower confetti as soon as he steps through the carriage entrance. Specifically, March, Caelus and Pom-Pom does—and Dan Heng too, after being somehow persuaded into joining them. Which means he’s standing rather close to Jing Yuan when he comes in, and he gets to see the way his eyes subtly light up with delight even from something as silly as their childish greeting.

“Thank you for having me here,” Jing Yuan says, genuine excitement bubbling under the surface of his composure. He nods in greeting at every present member, his gaze seeming to linger on Pom-Pom just a little longer than the rest. He then lifts up the crate of freshly handcrafted drinks he’d been carrying with one hand. “It's my sincere hope that you would all accept some Immortal Delights as a sign of my gratitude.”

“Oh, General, you didn’t have to!” March is quick to say but even quicker to circle around their guest and eye her prize with glee. Dan Heng bites back a sigh as he reaches to tug at her sleeve, a silent plea for her to remember her manners as Pom-Pom steps forward to suggest settling down first before Jing Yuan goes around getting to know the other passengers.

“No, no, please allow me,” Jing Yuan insists as he places his luggage on the nearest couch. “These taste the best when fresh, so do enjoy them at your soonest convenience.”

And he proceeds to personally distribute every cup of milk tea he’s brought with him, each ordered slightly customized to suit the Express crew’s individual tastes. Dan Heng knows this because he was the one he’d texted a few days prior asking for advice. Himeko’s drink is more coffee than milk, while Welt’s should’ve been made with a special brew of tea that’s rarely on the  Sleepless Earl’s menu. Pom-Pom’s has grass jelly instead of tapioca pearls, March’s is topped with an extra piece of bunny-shaped pudding, and Caelus’ contains soy milk instead of dairy.

“I got you the standard drink but less sweet,” Jing Yuan finishes with Dan Heng. He tilts his head slightly to the side. “Hope it suits your tastes?”

“It should be fine,” Dan Heng replies evenly, making sure he’s got a proper grip on the cup before Jing Yuan lets go. “Thank you, General.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrow into gentle crescents when he smiles. Dan Heng resists the urge to shift his feet, instead opting to avert his gaze and take his first ever sip of Immortal’s Delight.

It really does taste amazing, the milk and cream carrying a pleasant mouth feel and the slight bitterness of the tea balancing out the decadence of the brown sugar syrup. The tapioca pearls are cooked to chewy perfection, adding an extra layer to the drink’s sensory experience. Dan Heng isn’t usually one for sweet things, but even he can immediately tell why this particular beverage is so popular aboard the Luofu. He thinks he might have to skip dinner after finishing it, though.

“Passenger Jing Yuan,” Pom-Pom eventually totters over, saving Dan Heng from the pain of awkward silence between himself and their new guest. Their cup of milk tea looks extra large in comparison to their size. "On behalf of everyone on the Astral Express, allow Pom-Pom to once again welcome you aboard, and to express our highest gratitude for the super yummy drink!”

“Think nothing of it, Master Conductor,” Jing Yuan assures easily with a wave of his hand. “It’s the least I can do to repay your generous hospitality. If you need help with anything, please feel free to let me know.”

And that’s how he captures Pom-Pom's heart, the first out of all of them. Or maybe Pom-Pom's standards have simply hit a new low after Caelus and March, considering that all it takes for them to pick their new favourite passenger was Jing Yuan being extremely willing to help with even the most tedious chores.

Though in their defense, Jing Yuan does tackle chores like he’s on some sort of life mission, always putting the utmost effort into seeing his tasks through until the very end, no matter how mundane they are and how much he’d whimper about his aching back afterwards. Perhaps it’s exactly this sort of normalcy that he hopes to seek, everyday matters that could never fit into his life as an Arbiter-General. Things that most would take for granted by default, never needing to even consider otherwise.

Dan Heng just doesn’t think he should spoil Caelus and March quite so much by always offering to do their share of chores too whenever they don’t feel like it. Caelus especially is notorious for his avoidance of any sort of cleaning, and Dan Heng knows he’d just casually leave everything to someone else the moment he has the chance. It would not be ideal to always let him get away easy.

But Dan Heng’s opinions are only his own in the end, and Jing Yuan only ends up solidifying his position as another’s favourite in no time.

He gets along exceedingly well with Welt and Himeko as well, often engaging them in pleasant chatter that could last for hours on end. Always knowing what to say, how to react, how to keep their conversations going, even when they hardly have anything much in common. He speaks to Himeko about coffee blends as though he’s been an enthusiast his whole life, discusses with her music recommendations for the phonograph playlist like their entire journey on the Express depends on it. With Welt, Dan Heng has walked in on them feverishly brainstorming the next arc of Welt’s current work in progress together on more than one occasion, their notes manic scribbles in different colored ink filling the papers strewn across their shared desk.

Jing Yuan is like a sun pulling people into his orbit, fitting in as easily as he breathed. He’s gentle and approachable, highly dependable when it matters. Trailblazing missions have gone smoother than ever before whenever he participated, most troubles they encounter dealt with without leading into a planetary-scale crisis. It’s as though he was always meant to be one of the many puzzle pieces making up the Astral Express. Himeko, ever the romantic, would surely call this a fated homecoming.

Dan Heng, despite his own reservations in the beginning, finds that he’s gradually beginning to appreciate Jing Yuan’s presence too, subconsciously easing into the sense of safety he never fails to provide. After his life of constant paranoia in being chased down and hunted, Dan Heng always finds himself inadvertently plagued by a certain tension whenever he’s on a trailblaze mission. It doesn’t help that half his current companions are magnets for trouble—and suffice to say, it's nice having another person he’s fully confident he could rely on should anything go awry. At the very least, Dan Heng now feels that he can breathe a little easier when they’re out and about.

“You’re still awake.”

Is the message that greets him after he picks up his buzzing phone. A glance at the clock makes him realize that he’s gotten too engrossed with updating the data bank yet again.

“So are you,” he texts back, moving to save his progress on his computer while he still remembers. Jing Yuan’s reply comes just as he’s closing his tabs.

“Was just getting some water ( ´ ꒳ ` )” There’s a brief pause before his next message. “Can I drop by?”

“Suit yourself,” Dan Heng answers without thinking, his habitual leniency with Caelus and March biting him in the ass at the worst possible timing—and the regret immediately sets in. He's always preferred talking to Jing Yuan through texting if he could help it, feeling much more comfortable without the constant weight of his expectant gaze. Jing Yuan is always too bright, too eager, too...overwhelming. Too good at throwing Dan Heng’s composure off kilter with barely any conscious effort.

There’s no time for Dan Heng to backtrack, unfortunately, soft knocks sounding from his door while he’s still trying to pull himself together. He can only frantically stamp down his panic and dive behind his usual mask of apathy, making sure it’s staying before he goes to let Jing Yuan in.

Jing Yuan stands in the hallway holding two glasses of water and sipping from one. The front folds of his robes are slightly loosened, granting Dan Heng a hardly obstructed view of his bared throat and collarbones. His mane of grey hair is in even more tousled chaos than usual, falling all around and over his face and almost covering even his normally visible eye. He smells like he’s been sleeping too, his unique musk mixed in with the scent of his detergent and shampoo emanating from his being.

“Hey,” he greets, and Dan Heng furiously prays to the late Akivili that he isn’t blushing.

“How may I help you?” he manages to sound normal somehow, accepting the glass of water Jing Yuan offers him with a nod of thanks. He takes a careful step back, but Jing Yuan doesn’t seem to have any intention of entering his room.

“March says she always gets sleepy whenever I’m around,” is all he says as he tilts his head and offers him a lazy smile. “So I'm trying it out on you, Dan Heng. Is it working?”

Dan Heng bites back a frustratingly well-timed yawn. “No.”

It would’ve been nice if Jing Yuan could at least pretend to not notice his lie. “Great! It's about time for you to go to sleep, it’s getting exceedingly late.”

Dan Heng pointedly glances away, lifting his glass for a mouthful of water. “...Is that all you’re here to say?”

“Mm, while I still have some sleep in me? Yes.” Jing Yuan halfheartedly covers his mouth with the back of his hand as he lets out an enormous yawn. “Get some rest soon, A-Heng. Or you might get sick when we warp tomorrow.”

Dan Heng hums, not protesting but not agreeing to it either, but it seems to be good enough of an answer to Jing Yuan. He proceeds to wave him good night, and then he’s shuffling off, his tall figure pale as a ghost in the dimmed hallway as he makes his way back to his room in the neighbouring carriage.

Dan Heng closes his door before reaching for his own light switches, retreating to the warmest corner of the archive where his futon is spread out without trouble even in the sudden darkness. He fully shuts down his computer while he’s on the way, then finally moving to squirm under his comforter and find his usual best position. All around him, the room is filled with the soft beeps and whirrs of machinery that’s always warding off the absolute silence that unnerves him. Dan Heng closes his eyes and tugs his blanket up to his ears, taking deep breathes while counting to ten.

He touches his cheeks, and a tiny groan rises in his throat. He really has been blushing.

xXx

The main rule of thumb to their trailblazing missions is such: do not ever leave March and Caelus unsupervised. March will always be March while Caelus just straight up thirsts for trouble because he thinks it’s funny. Leave them alone and they’re bound to find themselves in one Situation or another. Fortunately for the entire Express crew, everyone apart from those two have gotten extremely well practiced in serving as their brakes after spending all this time adventuring together.  

But as Dan Heng eventually comes to find out, however, Jing Yuan is no such brake once he’s gotten comfortable enough. In fact, one could say that he’s the particular duo’s biggest enabler who has ever set foot on the Express.  

Dan Heng must honest to Aeons wonder if this is really the hill he wants to die on. Or well, planet, he supposes. They're running for their lives from the law enforcement in a city they’ve set foot in for barely two days, clambering over gates and climbing rooftops and knocking over the closest things within reach to stall for time. All because Caelus thought it’d be hilarious to steal a national artifact for, in his words, a “hidden achievement”. Dan Heng had been against it, like a normal person. Jing Yuan had been the one who planned their infiltration route.  

Hooked on the thrill, the lot of them. And as much as Dan Heng would rather not admit, so is he, to some extent. Otherwise he would’ve at least put in more effort into staying out of it after knowing there’s no way to persuade his companions out of their whims.

He only further questions his life choices when he finds himself heaving for air somewhere in the maze of the local sewer system, trying his hardest not to gag from the putrid stench surrounding them.

“Caelus,” he eventually begins, exasperated. “Why.”

Caelus merely holds up his prize and cackles in triumph. “Serves them rig—uegh!”

Dan Heng immediately springs back with all the grace and agility of a spooked cat, putting as much distance from Caelus’ misfortune as physically possible because he cannot handle this right now, he really can’t. He's already trying his best. He casts a pleading look at Jing Yuan in a fit of desperation, silently begging him to be the voice of reason for once because he’s almost certain that Caelus is going this far just so he could impress him.

But Jing Yuan only throws his head back, and laughs.

They're breathing in what must be some of the foulest air the entire city has to offer, probably having completely ruined the reputation of the Nameless from the Astral Express on this planet, and Caelus is currently fighting for his life while emptying his stomach onto the pavement—and Jing Yuan is laughing until he’s tearing up.

No, this isn’t the damn time, Dan Heng silently chastises his backstabbing heart as it does a series of backflips and summersaults in his chest. He's supposed to be the single sane person in this team and he’s going to drag these two idiots back by the scruffs of their necks if he has to and oh. Oh, Jing Yuan’s quieted down and now he’s looking at him.

And his smiling; not the look that has always been tinged by a deep, unrelenting melancholy he has carried for centuries that Dan Heng has subconsciously grown used to seeing, but one that gently crinkles the corners of his eyes and is radiant and warm as the morning sun.

Perhaps this is the first time Dan Heng has seen him so genuinely at ease and delighted, even after he’d boarded the Express. And perhaps this is also the first time he realizes that these feelings stirring in his core are truly his own, not whatever fragments belonging to Dan Feng that had been passed down to him somehow or another. That it’s him, wholly him who’s falling, falling, falling for a man still capable of harboring so much tenderness and tranquility in his being despite all the tribulations he had gone through.

“Goodness, you boys sure know how to have fun,” Jing Yuan marvels, his voice rich with amusement as he finally steps forward to soothe Caelus’ back, seemingly unaffected by the mess the former is making. Caelus, as though blessed by a healing touch, proceeds to finish up his heaving with a few coughs and straightens as though he’s been in tip-top condition this whole while, a sparkle in his eyes as he gives Jing Yuan a reassuring thumbs up.

Dan Heng frowns and crosses his arms, a protesting “I wouldn’t exactly call this fun,” left unsaid but heavily implied. Fortunately for him, Jing Yuan finally decides to get the hint, and he casually proposes to return the artifact to its original place.

Immediately.

As if the entire city isn’t currently teeming with law enforcement bots courtesy of their first stunt.

“That’s precisely why we have to strike now,” Jing Yuan reasons, brimming with so much excitement and confidence that it’s almost contagious. Almost. It’s during times like this that Dan Heng is reminded of the sheer charisma the Luofu’s hotshot Arbiter-General must have. “No one would expect us to go back at this timing!”

Yes, and that's because not everyone can be quite this unhinged. Dan Heng sighs so hard that his shoulders ache, resigning himself to his fate because what else is there for him to do? Jing Yuan and Caelus are already back to business with their troublemaking—and Dan Heng does agree that it’d be best to put the artifact back before they accidentally break it, Aeons forbid. And it’s not like he can possibly let these two out of his sight because who knows what other impulsive ideas they’d come up with on the fly that might lead to even more headaches for him.

He just thinks he might actually need a vacation of his own after this.

xXx

Though he opts to make it look as effortless as possible, Jing Yuan does put a lot of work into trying to bond with the Astral Express crew.

He's always observing the others, mentally noting down whatever they might find interesting or worrying at the moment. If it’s something of concern, he would subtly try to assist, and if it’s something new they’ve found enjoyment in, he’d find chances to chat with them about it.

It is why he spends a good amount of time in the archives browsing through the Data Bank, going the extra mile to do all the research he thinks necessary for him to connect with his companions. It is also how Dan Heng ends up spending a lot of time with him in actuality, both of them holed up in the archive room poring over records for hours on end, sharing a space in relative silence.

Emphasis on “relative”, because Dan Heng is so used to being alone in the archive that even the slightest noises from another could feel jarring to him. The sounds whenever Jing Yuan uncrosses his legs or leans his elbows on the desk, whenever he yawns or scratches his skin—Dan Heng can’t help but be hyperaware of them, especially at the beginning.

But Jing Yuan’s visits are regular enough that he gradually gets used to them, having them blend in with the rest of the background noises from the machinery. It also means that within all of Jing Yuan’s hours upon hours spent in the same room with him, there had been ample chances for Dan Heng to ask what he has always wanted to ask ever since Jing Yuan joined the Express.

What happened to the High Cloud Quintet? What was Dan Feng’s sin? What had led to his sin?

What kind of person was Dan Feng?

They are simple, straightforward questions. Questions that Dan Heng endlessly hesitated to ask, and questions he knew would make the unbearable sorrow return to Jing Yuan’s eyes when he answers.

Dan Heng...cannot bear to see Jing Yuan hurt in any way. It's a realization that dawned on him all too abruptly during one of their recent trailblazing missions. Dan Heng had had his hands full dealing with a swarm of bloodthirsty android beasts hellbent on tearing him apart, on the verge of being overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. His back had been wide open when one of them saw the chance and lunged at him.

And Jing Yuan had intercepted, blood spilling as the beast sank its poisonous fangs deep into his arm.

Dang Heng still remembers the panic, the unreasonable dread that overwhelms him like a tidal wave. Trailblazing missions always have their fair share of dangers; there’s hardly ever a time when they would all return from one without sustaining at least a couple of injuries from inevitable battles. Dan Heng knows this better than anyone.

Yet their fight with Phantylia aboard the Luofu still lingers at the back of his mind to this day, the image of Cloud Piercer plunging into Jing Yuan’s torso scored deep into his memory. Jing Yuan had not said anything thus far, but Bailu had secretly informed Caelus out of concern. The General’s vitality has been compromised ever since the battle, he might not be able to recover from another life-threatening injury. The next time he risks his life, there might be no coming back.

Dan Heng wishes Jing Yuan had a stronger sense of self preservation so he could stop being quite so flippant with his own safety just because he’s already lived more centuries than most of the people he knows. He wishes he had the courage to remind him that everyone aboard the Express would love for him to be safe and sound. That he wants him to be safe and sound. That he’s not sure if anyone would ever be able to recover if anything were to happen to him.

Dan Heng finds Jing Yuan sitting alone in the dimmed parlor car gazing at the ocean of stars in silence, motionless as a statue.

He's already noticed this before, but the lack of armor seems to soften the general’s edges, amplifying the air of a giant housecat that he perpetually carries with him outside of battle. Dan Heng, to his dismay, catches himself occasionally wondering how it’d feel like to squirm into his space, if it’d be as warm and safe and cozy as he imagines. Then it is to his further dismay that he realizes he’s been imagining things that had to do with Jing Yuan.

He clears his throat, partly to indicate his presence, partly to pull himself together. Jing Yuan’s attention flickers to him, his languid demeanor completely unaffected.

“Dan Heng,” he greets, with the usual underlying lilt of excitement that bubbles up whenever he’s speaking with him. Though, there’s a hint of apology in his smile this time. “I’ll be troubling you again today.”

Dan Heng only shrugs it off, taking his place beside him in silence. Jing Yuan holds out his injured arm for him, tugging his sleeve up to reveal his wound.

It’s finally starting to look better, after Dan Heng’s best efforts with his Cloudhymns. They’d been lucky enough to have had a skilled healer among the new comrades they’d met during their latest expedition, otherwise they would’ve had to make an emergency warp all the way back to the Luofu the moment they had the chance to retreat and practically kidnap Bailu off the Alchemy Commission delves to tend to Jing Yuan. He’d been in such a horrible state that even Himeko and Welt could barely assure the others that he was going to pull through. Perhaps if it hadn’t been for Mr Yang slowing down the spread of the poison with his skill, Jing Yuan would’ve...

“How are you feeling?” Dan Heng chases away the end of the thought, refusing to let himself imagine. Jing Yuan is out of danger now and that’s all that matters.

“Hmm. Sleepy, I suppose?” Jing Yuan’s response is nonchalant, a contrast to the intensity of his stare as he watches Dan Heng mutter his Cloudhymn magic and summon a fragment of the primordial sea into existence. Dan Heng purses his lips as he wills the water into a simple blob between his hands, carefully tapping into the innate powers within him to infuse it with the effect he needs.

Bailu, bless her heart, had done her best to explain how she does it. Healing has always been second nature to her, and all she ever needs is a Cloudhymn or two to treat most common ailments and injuries. The poison in Jing Yuan’s body has fortunately been fully neutralised, but the toll from that process alone was deemed to be pushing his bodily limits. The rest of his recovery will have to be gradual to avoid putting even more burden on him, and that is where Dan Heng steps in to help. As pathetic as his every attempt feels.

It’s ironic, how he could part a sea with ease but not heal a simple wound. Of course Dan Feng had not passed down his healing abilities to him. All he’d ever left behind are things Dan Heng would never ask for.

...except for one.

Jing Yuan breathes a contented sigh when Dan Heng’s spell envelopes his injury, his entire body further relaxing against the sofa. Dan Heng is silent in his single-minded focus, only occasionally letting his gaze flicker towards his companion to make sure he’s not accidentally channeling his powers wrong and hurting him instead.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never leave him, that much he can sense with ease. And of course—that's to be expected. Dan Heng has manifested his Vidyadhara form to better facilitate the flow of his qi, once again donning the likeness of the dead man Jing Yuan so loved even after hundreds of years. Of course Jing Yuan would look, would drink in the sight of him while he has the chance. Of course, even centuries after his passing when he should no longer have any right to interfere with Dan Heng’s life, Dan Feng is still—

“A-Heng?”

Dan Heng startles, jolting back into attention with so much force that his form breaks and his spell shatters into haphazard droplets before dissipating into the air. His stomach sinks as he immediately scrambles to check for damage, cursing himself for letting his mind wander. Damn it, he should know better that there’s a time and place to think useless thoughts and he’s so stupid, stupid, stupid—

“Dan Heng,” Jing Yuan calls again, softer this time and with a light touch on his arm. “Relax, you’re okay.”

“You—” Dan Heng curls his hands into fists, desperately trying to anchor himself, “you’re not hurt anywhere?”

“Not at all,” Jing Yuan assures, though a hint of fluster manages to sneak its way into his calm. Dan Heng needs to examine him a few times more before he’s convinced that he’s indeed alright, his mind still reeling from the wave of irrational panic. It is only once he’s certain that Jing Yuan is indeed unhurt, with only his loose sleeves slightly dampened, that Dan Heng remembers to breathe.

“...I apologise. Let’s stop here for tonight,” he manages to say, unable to meet Jing Yuan’s gaze after his truly pathetic display. He makes to get up and excuse himself, planning to shut himself in his room until the next morning at least.

“Please wait.”

Dan Heng flinches. Jing Yuan hesitates in turn, but it lasts no longer than a second.

“I’ve accidentally made myself too much tea,” he elaborates, as though he expects Dan Heng to fall for the blatant excuse. “Won’t you stay to keep this old man company a little longer?”

“I...” Dan Heng makes the fatal mistake of glancing at him. Jing Yuan’s giving him his best pleading puppy look and Dan Heng should really, really be used to this after all the times he’s had to deal with the same thing from March and Caelus. He's not a pushover and he can stand his ground when he needs to.

He slinks into the seat facing Jing Yuan, now wanting to cease existing for a whole other reason.

Though Jing Yuan doesn’t seem particularly interested in pointing out his burning ears, only silently offering him the cup of tea he’s already poured out beforehand. Dan Heng has come to discover his little habit of always pouring out an extra cup of tea, so that it can cool while he savoured his current one. It also implies that Jing Yuan does not handle hot food and drinks very well and Dan Heng doesn’t quite know what to do with the information other than finding it ridiculously endearing.

But that’s for him to feel on another day under better circumstances. Dan Heng currently sits tensed up as he sips on his beverage, bracing himself for a conversation he’s far from in the mood for. Aeons, why did he even let himself end up like this? It’s been one miss after another and maybe burrowing into a hole doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea right about now.

To Jing Yuan’s credit, though, he doesn’t try engaging Dan Heng in any idle chatter at all, truly only seeming to be asking for his companionship and nothing more. The silence between them stretches on, accompanied only by the drone of the Astral Express as it chugs steadily along the Star Rail. Dan Heng cradles his tea cup between his hands, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. Before he knows it, his embarrassment begins to fade.

Jing Yuan yawns, wide-mouthed and unrefined. He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows when Dan Heng meets his gaze, as though encouraging him to say something if he wants to.

It’s no surprise that the Xianzhou Luofu’s Divine Foresight would notice all the questions Dan Heng has never been able to find the right timing to ask, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself that it’s all simply for sake of updating the Data Bank.

“Feeling a little better?” Jing Yuan is the one who speaks first, while Dan Heng is still contemplating how to put his words together. Dan Heng musters an absent “hm” in response.

“...Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Jing Yuan is once again quick to reassure him, but a hint of concern soon crosses his features. “Something seems to be bothering you, Dan Heng. If you’d like, I could lend you an ear?”

Dan Heng truly does not know how Jing Yuan works through his defenses so easily. He does not know why he lets him through so easily. It’s terrifying.

“I cannot help but think sometimes,” Dan Heng begins with a thick swallow, “that if I was more like Dan Feng, then maybe you wouldn’t have...”

“But you’re not,” Jing Yuan interrupts to remind him, his tone firm despite the softness of his voice. “And you’re enough as you are.”

“I cannot even heal your wounds.” Dan Heng stares at his hands helplessly, stupid, stupid thoughts swirling in his head. Maybe, if he had the absolute control over his Vidyadhara powers like Dan Feng did, he could’ve healed Jing Yuan without even blinking an eye. Maybe, if he was as powerful, untouchable as Dan Feng was, Jing Yuan wouldn't have needed to risk his life for him. Maybe, just maybe.

“And neither would I with your wounds, should there ever come a time,” Jing Yuan counters, as if there was ever room for him to make that argument in the first place. “And yet you’re still willing to try for my sake.”

Dan Heng purses his lips, wishing Jing Yuan would stop giving him so much credit for his measly attempts. He’s lacking in skill, that’s all there is to it. It is the cold, hard fact, and no amount of reassurances from Jing Yuan could ever change that in the short run.

“Would you like to know more about him?”

A sudden question, Jing Yuan’s obvious attempt to divert his attention. Yet it’s just the right one to make Dan Heng’s heart skip a beat, perfectly hooking him in.

Dan Heng keeps himself very still, conflict stirring in his chest like a whirlpool. Yes, he wants to know. “No, I don’t need to.”

Unfortunately for him, Jing Yuan once again proves to be unfairly skilled at seeing right through his shallow lies. “I’m afraid I'd only be able to give you a very biased perspective on what sort of person he was, Dan Heng.”

“Jing Yuan.” Dan Heng takes a deep breath. “You don’t have to.”

“Hm?” Jing Yuan tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Don’t have to what?”

“...Remember.” Dan Heng finds annoyance welling up in his throat at the fact that Jing Yuan can manage to look so unaffected by the current topic of conversation. He fiddles with the hem of his jacket to give his rising agitation an outlet. “You don’t have to think about all that’s in the past.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze softens. “Are you worried that it’d make me sad?”

Doesn’t it, still? Dan Heng keeps his silence, not trusting himself to be able to answer in any rational manner. Jing Yuan has obviously been having such a great time being part of the Nameless, gradually shedding some of the invisible burden he’s been carrying as the Luofu’s Arbiter-General for so many centuries as the days went on. He feels freer, lighter, brighter now than the day he’d first set foot upon the Astral Express—and Dan Heng doesn’t want to be the one to take it all away from him.

Again, a voice that does not belong to him finishes. A lingering fragment of the past. He doesn’t want to be the one who takes it all from him again.

“Dan Heng, your kindness truly knows no bounds,” Jing Yuan says, and Dan Heng bites his lip because is it really so much kindness than it is pity? He looks away, hearing Jing Yuan shift in his seat, afraid to see what sort of face he’s making. Afraid he would see how he actually feels.

Jing Yuan sighs before he continues. “You have a point, I’ll probably get unreasonably melancholic if I talk about him even after all these years.”

“Then don’t,” Dan Heng says, barely able to voice it beyond a mumble. His response seems to amuse Jing Yuan.

“It is true that I’ll surely miss Dan Feng for the rest of my life,” Jing Yuan admits, and there’s just something, something in his tone that finally compels Dan Heng to face him once more. “But I also know there must come a time where I allow myself to move on.”

“...and you’ve decided that the time is now?”

Jing Yuan does not answer immediately, instead turning to behold the infinite sea of stars outside. As though the brilliant, unreachable specks of light in the distance hold every piece of his most precious memories. As though, if he peered long enough, he’d find the glimmering halcyon days of his past and return to their comforting embrace. As though if Dan Heng doesn’t stop him in time, he would never be able to bring him back.

“Jing Y—”

He trails off when Jing Yuan’s gaze returns to him, golden and steadfast. Dan Heng senses the million thoughts in his head, unable to even imagine the inner turmoil he must be going through, nor the sheer determination it takes for him to come to his answer.

“Yes.”

Yet above all that, there’s...peace. Acceptance.

Jing Yuan looks at him like he’s been freed, and Dan Heng aches and aches and aches.

xXx

Dan Heng's records of the High Cloud Quintet remain scarce, after he'd deemed that much of the information shared with him was far too subjective to be detailed in the Data Bank.

Baiheng had a ferocious laughter that never faiiled to bring smiles to the others’ faces even after the most draining missions. She was the heart of the group, holding them all together with her boundless enthusiasm, her open adoration for each and every one of them. She would be off on her own adventures during quiet times as a Nameless, and would often bring home with her the wildest stories to tell her two biggest admirers. Out of all of them, she was the one who had spoiled Jing Yuan the most, who never stopped seeing him as her adorable baby brother even after he’d reached his peak and long stopped growing older.

Jingliu loved sickly sweet desserts which Jing Yuan and Baiheng would often exploit whenever they needed to placate her or beg for a favour. She was stern, stubborn as a mule, and had a tendency to try solving all problems with her sword. She was also forthright to a fault, and was always the one to go to whenever objective opinions were warranted. She never showed any favouritism even to her one and only disciple, much to said disciple’s common dismay. One could even say that she simply struggled to be more honest with expressing her affections, though not many dared to linger on the conjunction lest it summoned the Sword Champion herself and cost them their neck.

Yingxing was charming as he was arrogant, his eyes always alight with a borderline obsessive drive to carve his place into the universe while he still burnt bright. His hands were always warm and covered in calluses, capable of creating wonders after wonders even as time greyed his hair and drew elegant lines across his features. He was the most overprotective of the group, often griping about how reckless the long-lived could be when it came to their own safety just because their bodies were marginally more durable than others. Thus he was also extremely insistent about crafting every piece of his friends’ weapons and armor himself, taking pride and comfort in knowing that he’s able to keep them just a little safer, even if he’s not in the frontlines fighting alongside them.

Dan Feng had unexpectedly low tolerance towards alcohol, two cups often all it took to ease him out of his well-practiced mask as the Luofu's Vidyadhara High Elder. Silly jokes absolutely delighted him and Jing Yuan would always be ready with a handful of new ones whenever they had the opportunity to meet. He loved to speak of wistful dreams, loved to sneak away from his closely monitored manor within the Waterscape and roam the Luofu streets in disguised forms. 

Dan Heng remembers, from his new dreams, how much Dan Feng had adored his friends, how they had filled his heart to the brim and more, until his love for them was woven into the very fibre of his being, forming the building blocks of him as the person known as Dan Feng. Yinyue-jun was defined by his heroic achievements, his duty to the Vidyadhara—but Dan Feng was his infinite tenderness, his adoration for his precious ones. His sedition had happened out of grief, frustration, despair. He was as human as he had been immortal; pitiful, multifaceted and flawed.

Dan Heng still finds it a little amusing that he would come to liken one of the most noteworthy Vidyadhara High Elders on the Xianzhou Luofu to a human. But he is also rather certain that Dan Feng would’ve taken it as a compliment.

As for Jing Yuan, he’s not too fond of speaking about his younger days, claiming to be hopelessly embarrassed by his own immaturity and baseless gusto at the time. Dan Heng suspects there must be more to it, but he doesn’t see the point in pushing him for details. So he doesn’t.

Besides, he’s decided that he rather prefers to fill in Jing Yuan’s entries as he goes, noting down his own observations of the current him. Jing Yuan’s love for small animals of all kinds, his favourite napping spots aboard the Express. The timing of his video calls with his beloved Yanqing and Mimi that never quite seem to end at times, his little habit of tilting his head whenever he’s questioning something. The little things that never fail to bring his signature sleepy smile to his face, that make him laugh aloud, unrestrained and unabashedly delighted. Even the matters that annoy him, that worry him, that bore him.

The current Jing Yuan is all for Dan Heng to know, to learn while the opportunity is still within his grasp. And Dan Heng, being a trailblazer through and through, finds he’s just as excited to embark on that journey as any.

[quirkthieves]

if you told bakugou katsuki a few months ago, after valentine’s and white day, that he’d be facing his ultimate moment of gay crisis in history, he’d have laughed at your face.  because-  it would’ve been inconceivable for him to hold any positive feelings for monoma neito.

the same boy he’s claimed as a war criminal.  the same boy he’s held the strongest animosity for since they crossed paths in the sports festival.  the same boy that finds even the most well-hidden nerves and fucking tap dances on them, like he’s a master of being the ultimate menace, and to katsuki specifically.

it’s undeniable:  monoma neito drives him up a fucking wall.

and has ended up his motherfucking crush.

ignoring whatever the hell that might say about him  -  because who the fuck ends up liking a little bastard like that anyway?  -  katsuki’s spent the past…  week?  two weeks?  however long, coming to terms with this newfound information about himself.  and his feelings.  his stupid, obnoxious, annoying feelings, of which he would much prefer to crush in his hand and go on with his day, instead of actually…

oh god.  he’s really standing in front of the class b dorms, and he’s really going to demand to see monoma, and he’s deadass going to own up to it.

katsuki almost considers turning around and marching away.  he actually did turn around, only for one of the other class b members to query his presence.  that earns a low curse, a deep breath, and;  “monoma.  where the hell is he?  and for the love of all that’s fucking holy, he better be alone.”

he imagines the glare he gives indicates that he might just fucking kill monoma when he’s brought to the other blond.  more so when he drags him off to somewhere more secluded than where they were, though his hands don’t pop with explosions.  even more so when he practically shoves neito in the little nook away from prying eyes, hand awkwardly wiping on pants, and-  ugh.  he can feel red tinging his ears.

no matter how he does this, he’s going to hate the sound of it.

he can feel heart against his ribs, tightness in his throat.  if neito’s asking what’s his deal, katsuki can’t form the words yet  -  just trying to steady his breathing first, then trying to sort his thoughts into something…  reasonable sounding.

what the fuck is reasonable?  katsuki pushes his fringe back.  “you’re not uttering a fucking word of this to anyone.”

…  though he has a feeling a certain lizard girl might hear about it anyway.

“don’t get it twisted:  i find you fucking annoying.  you drive me up a goddamn wall and make me want to strangle you alive, every fucking day.”  a pause.  “...  but despite my better judgement, i have-  the stupid heart flutters, stomach flips, all that weird shit.  and yes, i waited ages to make sure i wasn’t getting that wrong, so shut the fuck up and just accept that i-”

the pressure is getting to him already.  he would’ve shoved a letter at him and called it a day, but the last thing he needed was for monoma neito to have written proof to parade around.  (besides, his writing is still…  subpar.)

but now his hands are all clammy, and he’s getting flustered.  sparks fly from heated palms while he tries to recollect himself.

which is not working.  “i fucking like you, okay?  i like you, and i don’t know what i wanna fucking do about it, but i can’t just fucking sit there with the stupid fucking feeling, and-  fuck you.  fuck you for making me feel like this.”  because that is something you should accuse your crush of.  “you mention this to anyone if it ain’t reciprocated, and you’re so fucking dead, you hear me?”

also totally something you tell your crush.

but he is, unfortunately, very serious  -  cheeks tinged red and ears matching, gaze averted, and hands now balling into fists to hide the sputtering of sparks.

It was far from the first time Monoma had been dragged out somewhere by Bakugo, but certainly the first that piqued his curiosity like this one.

After all, he hadn't done anything recently (relatively, that is) to piss him off. But Bakugo looked like he was on the verge of exploding, and the way he was practically manhandled into a far corner of the dorms didn't help. But Bakugo... wasn't his usual brand of angry. Or any brand of angry that Monoma recognized on him, really.

Which he soon discovered was because he wasn't, at least not at Monoma. Bakugo's fidgeting, he's flustered-- Monoma wouldn't be surprised if he started pouring smoke from his ears. Instead,

“i fucking like you, okay?  i like you, and i don’t know what i wanna fucking do about it, but i can’t just fucking sit there with the stupid fucking feeling, and-  fuck you.  fuck you for making me feel like this. you mention this to anyone if it ain’t reciprocated, and you’re so fucking dead, you hear me?”

It seems that that rage-filled embodiment of a short fuse... had subverted his expectations, yet again. Of course, externally, for a long moment, all Monoma can do is stare. Not bemused, not even judgemental; just staring, processing the series of words that had been thrown at him. After all, he had, once, been in a similar situation with Bakugo. But that had been a mixup, wrapped in the distance of a month between holidays, and Monoma wracking his brain to try and figure out how to gently let him down, because there was no way he could ever like that guy!

But here, now, months later (even after that awful birthday surprise, which Monoma now could admit was a little funny), there was something different. Watching Bakugo stammer over explaining the feelings of a crush, trying to wipe off his palms so they didn't spark too conspicuously-- the fact he had even dragged Monoma out at all, acting his usual bullyish self before folding under the burn of flustered cheeks, and then, still, trying to keep up the act...

He's cute! He's really, really cute!

Monoma's hand goes up to his own mouth to cover his reaction, brows twitching slightly. Watching Bakugo go for a threat before averting his eyes and hiding away his explosions,

He's adorable! Quintessential gap moe!

It felt like a missing piece had slotted into the puzzle that was their dynamic over the past few months. Sure, he had always loved getting a rise out of Bakugo. Sure, he had always felt like he could really be himself with Bakugo, as odd as it sounded. After all, it's not like he was trying to get his approval (or trying to make him fall in love). But what the confusing, clipped Valentine's Day gift had lacked was Bakugo himself, making Monoma's heart pound with his puffed out cheeks and nervous shuffle. No matter what had been said or done before, Monoma's mind was made up.

He absolutely has to see that face more!

Re-gathering his composure, Monoma clears his throat, pretending he was just tapping his chin in contemplation.

"Mm, let me think on this..." He says, as if his mind wasn't already made. He just wanted to make Bakugo squirm; and, after he had tormented him enough with roaming eyes and contemplative hums, Monoma shrugs and gives him a smug smile.

"Well, this makes us dating, right? I hope you're ready. I'm high maintenance."

He's just hoping Bakugo didn't notice how pink his own face was.

[archangelsunited]

Hi AUfriend <3

Excuse me marching in here unannounced. I sent some asks to Mareena and Para, and well, I thought that perhaps you might also like these questions. (Feel free to do it in your own time or ignore as spoons allow. <3)

I know we love to talk about breaking the rules in writing and obviously, that not every piece of advice is one-size-fits all, but there is a lot to say about being able to speak with each other about what we have learned during our journey. I was wondering if you wouldn't share. (I also plan on poking some of the others to see what more we can shake out. The more the merrier, no?)

What is the most useful/helpful pieces of advice you ever received during your education in relation to writing?

Once you started to write, what was the most important thing that you learned about writing or its process?

Has your real life had any influence on your writing? If so, how?

What advice would you give to aspiring writers (be it fanfiction or original)?

I would, in fact, like these questions. Give me all the questions. I broke my own advice and deleted a paragraph of this and started over. Then I left and came back a few hours later.

1.) The most useful advice?

Your job is to tell a story. (Stop trying to push multiple things in a narrative, stop trying to impress people, stop wondering what the audience wants, you have one goal- anything extra is extra.) Motivation will not support you, but discipline will. (I wrote everyday, two days off a week. I did this for a year. That year has given me more stamina in terms of writing than any amount of inspiration ever has. Its the reason some stories can exist at all.) The job of a first draft is to exist. (It can't be good until its bad, it can't be bad if it doesn't exist.)

2.) Once you started to write, what was the most important thing you learned?

<Trying to remember when I started writing> Start small? I started a lot of big projects before I got comfortable doing small projects, and that hurt me in the long run, I think. It isn't a lack of discipline or ability on your part, don't get offended. Its just, small things are a huge confidence builder. I have so many unfinished works on my laptop, that it made me feel like a failure. Having several small completed works helped me have the confidence and know-how to look at a big project and go "no big deal." Also, contrary to popular belief, people do actually like small bits of fanfiction, gen fanfiction even. Short stories do have a market. Those small prompts are really helpful in boosting confidence and practicing in a non-stressful environment. Also, it helps work maintain an even amount of skill. My skills at the beginning of a story are much better than at my endings.

Technical stuff: Warming up will save me time and stress.. I can spend two hours looking at a blank screen or I can spend five minutes on typing exercises and ten minutes free writing. Sitting at a desk is more productive and better than sitting on my bed. I need to have some sort of caffeine and or water next to me. Walking beforehand eases out the jitters. I do better when I am not posting everytime I hit 1 or 5k.

Brand new information: Having a group of writers talking to you and encouraging you about your project makes writing a LOT easier. They give me a positive word and suddenly things start getting accomplished. Its magical. Being dependent on other people for motivation is not healthy, but it IS normal to need affirmation- my mind thinks of it as a really good dose of speed.

3.) Has your real life had any influence on your writing?

I had two immediate responses to this. One was, "I hope so" the other was "Damn, I hope not." A few things that have probably gotten into my writing: 1.) My relationship with disability 2.) Sometimes people have to live in unhealthy and uncomfortable situations. They live and their lives are still WORTH living, even if things aren't perfect. 3.) Sometimes life changes directions completely and you aren't you you thought you would be by the end. 4.) Some of my favorite fic authors 5.) My family history

There is also a Screwtape Letter's quote that really put my writing into perspective, or really any skilled labor. It eases a lot of insecurity, if this is what I am striving towards. > “The Enemy wants to bring the man to a state of mind in which he could design the best cathedral in the world, and know it to be the best, and rejoice in the fact, without being any more (or less) or otherwise glad at having done it than he would be if it had been done by another. The Enemy wants him, in the end, to be so free from any bias in his own favour that he can rejoice in his own talents as frankly and gratefully as in his neighbour's talents--or in a sunrise, an elephant, or a waterfall.”

4.) What advice would I give?

You have to let yourself suck. You have to let it be bad. You get good by being bad. Writing is an imperfect craft, and if you spend your time trying be perfect- its just going to add a layer of misery to what should be a joy. My friends and family have to drag me away from writing these days. I get irritable if I don't write, because the last little thing that was keeping me from writing- what was filling me with dread- was that need for perfection.

Stop hiding your work. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

Do your time letting yourself work through it feeling like a chore. That is a normal part of the journey, feeling like each word is coming at a crawl and "I have no idea why I do this" and "This isn't good." I would compare it to doing scales or running laps. Its hard, repetitive, useless work- but after you've built up the skill and endurance, you can focus on the story you are writing- not if you can do it at all.