#sounds like the piece managed to convey the feel I was trying to get across

[canisalbus]

Seeing Vasco treat Machete like that is just romantic to me, yearning for someone to hold and look at me the way he looks at Machete.

That's such a sweet thing to say, thank you!

[bytemee]

chapter six. | WHERE DO YOU SLEEP? — yu jimin.

𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 — y/n, a rising music producer, has built her dream career while keeping her personal life under wraps. karina, aespa’s leader, is preparing for a huge comeback with a mini album produced and written by the one and only y/n.

karina knows this is the opportunity of a lifetime, and she has to nail it. the only problem is, she may be a bit distracted by her producer.

something about their connection feels different—like maybe it's worth the risk of prying eyes. but how much will they give up to chase after what they want?

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — longing/kinda have a tad bit of angst but not really, smut (gulp), g!p reader, and let me know if there's more.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 — 5.9k

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲— wow man i said 6k and it ended up being 5.9k am i a liar...manager name reveal wooooooo

taglist (open) — @sunshinez4 @gtfoiydlyj @yuyuy90 @liaponderstings @rinapomu @bimkayd

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

it was 2 am while jimin laid in bed, her face illuminated by the soft glow of her phone. her schedule started early tomorrow, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

not when you were on the other end of the line.

your voice had grown quieter over the last hour, words slurring slightly as sleep began to pull you under. jimin had teased you about it at first, laughing softly when you denied how tired you were, but now the only sound was the soft rhythm of your breathing.

you had fallen asleep mid-sentence, and she couldn't bring herself to hang up.

instead, she stayed there, her thumb gently tapping the screen, staring at your contact photo—a smile she knew well, the one she loved seeing in person. it made her heart flutter even now, even at this late hour, even with the miles between you.

she didn't want the call to end.

but she knew it had to.

"goodnight," jimin whispered, her voice barely a whisper, "i'll see you soon."

she reached for the stuffed animal you gave her, the one she kept close, its scent still lingering faintly despite the weeks that had passed.

it was she and mr. flopsy against the world.

she wanted to be closer to you; she wanted to hold your hand; she wanted to be the one that you went to when the nights were cold, the one who you could call whenever you were having a bad day. she wanted to be the one that made you laugh, the one that made your eyes light up. she wanted to be the reason behind your smile.

and she wanted you to want that, too.

she bit her lip, replying to all of the messages you had sent her yesterday that she never got around to answering. one by one, she typed out her responses, smiling at your silly jokes and teasing you back. but after a while, the conversation lulled, and she was left staring at her screen, trying to find the right words to say.

"good morning <3!"

"i hope today is better for you."

"fighting!"

she sent the message, her thumb hovering over the screen, wondering if she should add something else. but nothing seemed good enough. she sent the message, her thumb hovering over the screen, wondering if she should add something else. but nothing seemed good enough.

not the heart at the end, not the silly selfie she'd attached, not the encouragements. nothing could properly convey the emotions swirling inside her, the thoughts she couldn't seem to keep contained.

she couldn't stop thinking about you. couldn't stop wanting more.

was she being selfish? was she asking for too much?

she wasn't sure. all she knew was that it felt like a part of her was missing when you weren't there. like a piece of her had been stolen and taken halfway across the world, and the only thing that could fill the void was seeing you again.

she just hoped that wasn't too much to ask.

"hey, you gotta get up…like now."

the sleeping figure didn't move.

with a sigh, they gently shook the figure's shoulder, trying to get them to wake up. but the person just let out a sleepy groan, shifting slightly in their bed. "come on, we have a busy day ahead," they urged, hoping the person would finally stir.

after a few more attempts, the figure finally opened their eyes, squinting against the morning light. "get the fuck out, jamie." you grumble at your manager, pulling the covers over your head.

"no, i'm serious, y/n. you missed your session that was booked for this morning." you let out a groan, burying your head deeper into the pillow. you didn't care about the session. all you cared about was how good your bed felt and how you desperately wanted to stay there all day.

"i don't care." you mutter.

jamie sighs, shaking his head. "y/n, you have stuff to do. we have a photo shoot in a couple of hours, and if we don't leave soon, we'll be late. please just get up."

"can't you reschedule the photoshoot?" you try, even though you already know the answer.

"no, i can't," jamie says firmly, crossing his arms.

"but i don't feel good," you whine, and you can almost feel the eye roll.

he's silent for a moment before speaking again.

"whoa, three messages from jimin." you lift your head slightly, the mention of the idol catching your attention. you quickly reach for your phone, unlocking it to see the notifications from jimin.

"whipped bastard," jamie mumbles under his breath.

"shut up." you fire back, not denying his statement as you read through the messages. you were whipped, and you didn't even try to hide it.

"just get ready, please. i'm gonna order you some coffee." he finally relents, and you smile, giving a lazy thumbs-up before he walks out of your bedroom, leaving you alone.

jimin's eyes widen. she tries, she really does, to fight the smile on her face, but she can't. it's useless. the grin grows bigger, her dimples deepening. the universe finally seemed to be on her side as her manager revealed the news.

"we're heading to la next week to film the 'whiplash' music video," she said casually, but jimin didn't hear much after "la."

all three of her member's heads turned towards her, the smiles and smirks on their faces impossible to ignore. her members glance at each other, trying not to laugh at her expression. but ningning fails, a squeak leaving her mouth, and she immediately covers her face with her hands, trying to hide her giggles.

jimin narrows her eyes at ningning, already feeling the heat creeping up her neck. she's buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing you again, but her members' reactions make her want to shrink into her chair.

"what? nothing to say?" winter teases, her tone playful, as she leans into jimin's personal space. jimin uses her personal defensive mechanism and swats her friend away, trying to act unbothered, but she is so far from unbothered.

"nothing to say about what?" she shoots back, trying her best to sound indifferent. her voice wavers just enough to give her away.

giselle hums knowingly, raising an eyebrow. "uh-huh. sure, unbothered queen. we believe you."

jimin groans, burying her face in her hands for a moment before straightening up, her usual composure returning. "focus," she mutters, pulling out the group leader card.

the teasing dies down eventually, and as soon as the members are distracted, jimin pulls out her phone. she doesn't even hesitate.

guess who's coming to la next week?

across the globe, you're just finishing up a long photoshoot. the last camera clicks finally signal the end, and you stretch your arms, shaking off the fatigue.

"that's a wrap!" the photographer announces happily. the crew erupts into chatter as they start packing up their equipment, and you stretch your arms above your head, feeling relieved. you're ready to go home and sleep for a hundred years.

"great job, y/n," the stylist says warmly, stepping forward to smooth down the soft button-up shirt you're wearing.

you glance down at the shirt, fingers brushing over the fabric. it was so soft, like butter. you couldn't remember the last time you wore something this comfortable. you hesitate for a moment before looking up at her with a sheepish grin. "hey, uh… is it okay if i keep this?"

the stylist pauses, then bursts into laughter, her knowing look making you blush. "go ahead. it looks like you're already in love with it."

"oh my god, i love you," you gush, clutching your hands together. "thank you!"

she waves you off, chuckling as she steps away to finish organizing her kit. you quickly slip the shirt off, folding it neatly to keep it clean while you change back into your own clothes.

as you step away from the set, jamie, your manager, catches up to you, a coffee in his hand. he gives you a once-over, taking in your appearance. "how was the shoot?"

"it was fine."

"you hungry?"

"always."

"great, let's grab a bite."

you raise a brow at him. "isn't there another thing i'm supposed to do after this?"

"not today." he answers, taking a sip from his coffee. "or for the rest of the week."

your eyes widen. "really?"

he nods, a knowing look on his face. you narrow your eyes. "wait, is this a pity thing?"

"what?" jamie shakes his head, scoffing. "no. it's just a little break. you've been working hard, so you deserve it."

you blink at jamie, skepticism etched into your expression. "you're giving me a break? just like that? no strings attached?"

jamie rolls his eyes. "yes, y/n, believe it or not, i'm capable of basic human decency. now, let's go grab food before you pass out."

still, you study him for a moment longer, looking for any signs of a trap. finally, you shrug, accepting his answer. "fine. but if you spring a last-minute meeting on me tomorrow, i'm holding this over your head forever."

"duly noted," jamie says dryly as he ushers you toward the exit.

as the two of you step into the crisp evening air, you fish your phone out of your pocket, curious if jimin has replied. sure enough, her name lights up your notifications, and you feel your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

you bite your lip, rereading the message as a small, giddy smile tugs at your mouth. you quickly type back.

you hesitate for a second, then add a smiley face before sending it off. as you slide your phone back into your pocket, jamie catches your expression and snorts.

"you're absolutely unbearable when you talk to her," he teases.

you roll your eyes. "and you're unbearable all the time, so what's your point?"

he laughs, shrugging.

"keep talking, and i'm cancelling dinner," you add, just to be a brat.

four entire days passed.

the anticipation was eating you alive.

you tried to stay busy, but remember. you were given a full seven days off, so that meant nothing to do. the days dragged on, each one feeling longer than the last. you couldn't wait to see her again.

every time you thought about it, your stomach twisted in that nervous, fluttery way you hated admitting you liked.

when jimin finally told you her flight details, it took every ounce of self-control not to drop everything and drive to the airport to meet her. instead, you played it cool—or at least tried to.

the day she landed, you kept your phone close, checking the time obsessively and jumping at every notification, thinking it might be her. you knew she'd have a packed schedule as soon as she arrived, and she'd probably be exhausted because of the long flight, but you couldn't help hoping she'd reach out sooner rather than later.

she texted you briefly after landing, letting you know she'd made it safely and promising to see you soon. you replied with something casual, though your heart was racing the entire time.

the next day, friday, dragged on endlessly. jimin was out with her group, spending time with them, as it would be the only full day they got to themselves before filming the music video the following day. by the time nighttime rolled around, you were pacing your living room like a caged animal.

and then your phone buzzed.

are you free tonight? i can come by now.

your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. you quickly sent her your address, typing it so fast that you had to backtrack and fix a typo.

i'm free. come over whenever you're ready.

i'm so excited.

me too.

i can't wait to kiss you again.

i miss your lips.

…

you're making it very difficult to not just run over there.

not being very fair right now >:(

sorry, not sorry.

just get over here.

when your doorbell finally rang out, you sprang from the couch, moving so fast that your socks betrayed you on the hardwood floor. you nearly toppled over but managed to catch yourself on the wall, your heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with your near fall.

with a quick breath to steady yourself, you turned the doorknob, and there she was.

jimin stood on your doorstep, dressed casually in a hoodie, sweats, and a cap, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. she seemed worlds away from the polished idol everyone else saw, yet this version of her left you utterly speechless.

for a moment, you could only stare, drinking her in. she smiled, a dimple popping out, and that was all it took for you to regain control. you opened the door wider, stepping aside to let her in, and she hurried past you, the whiff of her perfume lingering in her wake.

"long day?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer, closing the door behind her as she set her bag near the entryway and pulled off her cap. your cap, actually, but you did say she could have it.

you watched her like a hawk as she nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "yeah, but i had fun."

you swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. jimin, however, seemed perfectly at ease, slipping off her sneakers and padding further into your home.

"it's nice here," she commented, looking around.

"it's cleaner than usual," you admitted with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

she laughed, her smile deepening. "you didn't have to clean for me, you know."

"i didn't," you said quickly, but her raised brow had you cracking a grin. "okay, maybe i did. a little."

"do you want something to drink? or eat? i've finally been free to get groceries—"

"y/n," she interrupted, her hand catching yours mid-ramble.

you froze, looking down at where her fingers brushed against your own before meeting her gaze again.

"i'm here for you," she said softly. "not food. not anything else. just… you." your breath caught at her words. did she know the effect she had on you? to make your heart pound so hard it almost hurt, your stomach twists in knots, and your mouth dry out like you had been dehydrated for weeks?

if the knowing smirk on her face was any indication, yes. she did.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly thick. "well, okay then."

the two of you moved slowly, cautiously, like two animals circling each other for the first time. her eyes flickered down to your lips, and a shiver ran through you. she bit her lip, hesitating for just a second before reaching out, her hand cupping the side of your face. her thumb grazed your bottom lip, her touch feather-light.

you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes.

the tenderness of her touch made your chest tighten.

your eyelids fluttered open.

she was watching you, her gaze soft and affectionate.

it was as if the weight of the past few weeks had suddenly disappeared.

as if it didn't matter. nothing else mattered except the way she looked at you. her hands moved to cup your cheeks, and then she leaned in. her lips met yours in a gentle and loving kiss, and you sighed, melting into her touch.

you can't believe it's been almost three months since her touch.

three months.

"hi," she whispered, her voice thick.

you let out a small chuckle, the sound more breathless than you intended. "hey."

her lips curved into a smile.

that's nothing compared to how long you'll have her, but it feels like a lifetime. your head spins, your pulse racing as you try to comprehend the fact that she's here, right now. with you.

she pulls back for a moment, her eyes searching yours, her gaze never wavering. you stare back, transfixed by her beauty.

her thumbs gently caress your cheeks, and then she kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. your hands move to her waist, tugging you closer, pulling her into you with a desperation that mirrored her own. she responded eagerly, her fingers balling your shirt in her hands as she deepened the kiss even further.

heat flooded your body, and your skin tingled.

god, it had been too long.

"i missed this," she whispered against your lips, her voice breathless.

"me too," you murmured back, tilting your head and capturing her mouth in another searing kiss. she moaned softly into your mouth, and the sound sent a rush of pleasure through you, the heat pooling low in your belly. when the two of you finally broke apart, both panting and flushed, her lips were swollen, and her eyes were bright.

"i don't ever want to go that long without seeing you again," she admitted.

"me neither."

you gave her waist a little squeeze before reaching for her hand, leading her toward your bedroom. "come on," you said, grinning. "you've never seen my place, right? let me show you around."

jimin grinned. "lead the way."

the tour started in the living room, which was sparsely decorated. you hadn't bothered with much beyond the bare essentials. you didn't spend much time at home anyway, and you didn't care to decorate.

"this is the couch where i crash when i'm too lazy to move to my bed," you said, patting the back of it. there were a few pillows tossed around and a blanket draped over one side, clearly well-used. "also known as the nap kingdom."

jimin nodded seriously, pretending to take notes. "nap kingdom. got it."

you walked to the little bookshelf by the window. "and here's where i pretend to be cultured." a mix of books, old magazines, and random knickknack's filled the shelves. one corner had a plant that was either thriving or barely holding on—it was hard to tell.

you gestured to the far wall. "i keep the tv over there. mostly for background noise and when i feel like binging something. and then over here," you pointed at the kitchen area, "is the land of the fridge."

jimin chuckled.

"it's my second favorite place in the house," you explained. "the first being…" you paused for dramatic effect, pointing at the ceiling above. "my room!"

she laughed again.

you led her down a hallway that stretched far longer than most would expect, the space lined with artwork—some pieces you'd picked up while touring in europe, others gifted by fellow artists. jimin's gaze lingered on a few, a small smile on her lips.

your bedroom was at the end of the hall. the doors were tall, dark wood with brass handles. you pushed them open with a small flourish. "ta-da."

the room was massive, just like the rest of the house. the king-sized bed took up a good portion of the space, the covers rumpled and pillows scattered. a plush rug covered the hardwood floors, and more windows lined the far wall. the view from here was even better than the living room's, and you could see the sun setting over the city below.

there was a seating area near the window with two armchairs and a small coffee table. you had an open walk-in closet to one side, with floor-to-ceiling shelves and rows of shoes. and in the corner, next to your nightstand, sat an acoustic guitar you hadn't put away yet.

"i didn't get to make my bed, but… welcome." you turned back to her with a sheepish smile.

jimin chuckled, her eyes soft as she took in the space. "i think the messy bed's part of the charm."

you grinned and flopped onto the bed without a second thought, sinking into the plush mattress.

"best part of the tour," you joked, spreading your arms out dramatically like you were making a snow angel.

jimin laughed and followed your lead, collapsing next to you with a bounce. she landed close enough that your shoulders brushed, her hair splaying out across the pillows. she sighed happily.

you turned your head to look at her. her eyes were closed, a content expression on her face. it felt like everything had fallen into place, like this was where she belonged. like the past three months had been a dream, and now you were finally waking up.

her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours. she smiled softly. "hi."

you couldn't help smiling back. "hey."

she let out a long, deep breath before turning her head towards you fully. your bodies faced each other, heads resting on pillows. she reached out, her fingers trailing along your jawline. the touch made your heart skip a beat, your skin tingling.

jimin tilted her head just slightly, closing the distance. her lips met yours gently, hesitantly, and you melted into her touch. she pulled away after a moment, only to kiss you again, deeper this time.

you sighed against her mouth, savoring the warmth of her lips, the taste of her tongue. she tasted like mint and coffee, sweet and earthy all at once.

you kissed her back eagerly, your hands cupping her face as she pulled you even closer. her fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you in tight, and you could feel her body pressed against yours, like she didn't want any space between you. she made a noise of approval when your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until you were tangled together.

she gasped as you shifted your weight, rolling so that she lay beneath you, her back flat against the mattress. your lips never left hers. you trailed kisses down her jawline, along her neck, and she arched her back with a breathy moan, her nails digging into your shoulder blades.

her scent filled your senses—floral and sweet, mixed with something spicy—and it made your head spin. your hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every line, every inch of skin you could reach. she squirmed beneath you, panting as she tugged at your clothes, urging you to remove them. you complied, discarding the fabric on the floor.

when you pulled away from her, she whimpered at the loss, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark. you sat back on your heels, kneeling between her legs, admiring the sight of her laid out beneath you. her hair was tousled and mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen. she looked beautiful.

"y/n," she muttered, suddenly embarrassed by your lingering gaze. she tried to cover her face with her hands, but you grabbed her wrists, pressing kisses to the inside of each one.

"what is it, love?" you asked, the nickname slipping off your tongue without thinking.

she stared up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she pulled you back down into another heated kiss, her hands tangling in your hair, her tongue sliding against yours.

"please," she murmured against your mouth, her breath hot.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," you said, your hand rising higher, resting just underneath the band of her bra.

"you don't know how much i've thought about you," she whispered.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look at her. "yeah?"

she nodded, a playful glint in her eyes.

"tell me," you whispered, pushing her hoodie upward to expose more of her skin, pressing a solid kiss in the middle of her torso. "how often did you think of me?"

she swallowed, her chest rising and falling as her breaths came in short bursts. "too often.

you hummed, your hands falling to either side of her hoodie, tugging it upwards. she helped you, raising her arms so you could slip it off her. "and what did you think about?" you continued; your lips found her skin again, pressing a line of kisses up her abdomen.

her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back against the pillow as a shiver ran through her. "everything," she breathed, her fingers curling in the sheets.

"everything?"

"i thought about the way you looked at me when we first met, how your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way you always smelled, the way you laughed." her voice dropped to a whisper. "i thought about the way you kissed me."

"i thought about you too," you murmur, your hands roamed her body, caressing every curve. you tugged her bra off, exposing her breasts. "all the time," you added, taking in the sight of her breasts pouring out of her bra.

your thumbs rubbed her nipples, her eyes closed. she let out a sigh, her back arching, pushing her breasts into your touch. "please," she whimpered, and the sound made your entire body tense, the pressure between your legs becoming almost unbearable.

but that didn't matter. you wanted to please her, to make her feel good, to let her know how much she meant to you. how you also think about her every single passing second of every day; that you were basically like a dog who waits eagerly for its owner's attention and affection.

her hands gripped your biceps as her hips bucked against yours once more. you dipped your head, taking one nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around her areola before moving to the other, sucking lightly and then harder.

"fuck," she gasped, her nails digging into your skin as her body writhed beneath you. you continued your ministrations, alternating between sucking and teasing her nipples with your teeth, eliciting delicious sounds from her lips. when you released her breasts, she groaned at the loss of contact.

"y/n," she pleaded, her voice pleading.

"shh," you murmured, kissing her stomach again. "let me take care of you." you sat back on your heels, tugging at her sweats until she lifted her hips, allowing you to slide them off along with her underwear.

"is this okay?" you asked, kissing her hip, your eyes locked on hers. she nodded, and you smiled, your arms wrapping around her thighs, your fingers gripping into the flesh of them. you lifted her legs over your shoulders, bringing her closer to you, and her hips bucked, her hands gripping the sheets.

"yes." she breathed.

the next thing she knew, your tongue was sliding up her wet slit, teasing her clit. she cried out, her hands immediately finding your head, gripping a handful of your hair, tugging it hard enough to make you groan. you didn't care, though, because she was wet and slick and sweet, and god, it felt amazing to finally taste her after all this time.

you lapped at her folds, tasting her juices, savoring every drop. she moaned, her hips bucking against your face.

the taste of her on your tongue was intoxicating; the pressure of her hands in your hair was intoxicating; to have her here, in your home, with her body responding to yours was more than you ever could've hoped for.

"fu-fuck." she moaned, her thighs squeezing around your head as your tongue worked her, a long whine following suit. "oh god, fuck."

her eyes closed, her head rolling back, the tendons in her neck standing out, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. "that's it," you encouraged, the sound of your voice making her shiver.

"y/n." she moaned, her grip tightening even further.

"more," she pleaded.

you gave her what she asked for, pushing two fingers into her, the sound of her cry filling the room, but that was nothing compared to the warmth of her around your fingers, the way her muscles squeezed and pulled, wanting you deeper inside her.

you could've lost yourself in that feeling, the heat, the tightness, the raw desire emanating from her. you wanted nothing more than to feel her come undone beneath you, the knowledge that it was your name on her lips, your hands on her body, the image of her coming apart for you burned into your brain.

"y/n."

her voice was raspy, low, and full of want, and it shot through you like lightning. your movements became faster and deeper, her breathing heavier as she struggled to speak.

"please. don't stop."

"i won't." you vowed.

"make me come, please."

you had never seen anything more beautiful. the way she arched her back, the way her eyes clamped shut in ecstasy, it was a sight to behold. "yes, yes, yes." she cried out.

her body was writhing underneath yours, her muscles tightening, her mouth forming words, but none of them coherent. it was like her entire world was collapsing, and she was grasping onto the only thing that mattered to her anymore, you.

"i'm gonna…"

and then, finally, she reached her peak, her hands leaving your hair to clutch the sheets as she rode out her orgasm, your name spilling from her lips over and over again. you didn't want her to stop. you didn't want this moment to end.

"oh god, oh god, y/n."

it was so fucking hot.

her chest heaved as she came down, her body trembling, her eyes still closed. she stayed there for a moment, basking in the afterglow. to be completely fair, these weren't her intentions on coming over. jimin would've been fine waiting. it was all up to you. but this? this was so, so much better.

"are you alright?" you ask, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"perfect." she sighs, opening her eyes.

"good."

her gaze is soft, full of tenderness and adoration, and she's looking at you like you're the only person who matters in the entire universe. you're sure the look on your face mirrors hers, because how could it not? how could you not be utterly and hopelessly in love with her?

you're soon tangled up again, your bodies pressed together, limbs intertwined as you try to get as close to each other as possible. there's nothing else you'd rather be doing. both bodies bare with your eyes locked, hearts beating as one.

your hand rests on the side of jimin's waist, your mouth agape as you kneel between her legs, the feeling of your cock pressing against her folds making you shiver. "is this okay?"

"yes," she whispered, her voice shaking. "i want this."

the two of you are connected by an invisible thread; every time you pull away, it tugs at you, drawing you back into her orbit, and you can't help yourself. the air between you crackles, electric. your eyes never leave hers as you slowly push into her, watching for any sign of discomfort.

her breath catches when you fill her completely, and you pause, giving her time to adjust. she takes a deep breath before nodding. "keep going," she says softly.

"i'll go slow."

you press another kiss to her forehead, and she sighs, closing her eyes. you start moving inside her, gently at first, trying to find a rhythm. her hands immediately reach out to find yours, lacing your fingers together and holding onto you tightly.

"fuck," she moans, squeezing your hand.

"feels good?"

"so good," she breathes, trying her hardest to keep you in her sights because you were a sight to behold. a selfish thought of being the only person to see you this way popped up in her head and she wanted nothing more than to hold that title forever. your hair messy, your lips parted and swollen from kissing, and sweat beading down your body. you were beautiful, and you were all hers.

"how are you so perfect?" she whispers, a hand leaving yours and reaching up and cupping your cheek.

"i'm far from perfect," you laugh softly.

"you are to me." oh.

her words send a shiver down your spine.

her words send a shiver down your spine. you're not sure how to respond to that, but luckily you don't have to, because she pulls you down for another kiss. it's slower this time, less urgent. her tongue slides over yours as her legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper into her, and you groan into her mouth. she swallows the sound eagerly, biting your bottom lip and tugging on it lightly before letting go.

your head ducks into the crook of her neck, her scent overwhelming you. "jimin." you murmur against her skin. she responds by running a hand through your hair, her nails scratching your scalp, taking the opportunity to pepper kisses on the side of your face and neck.

the rhythm of your thrusts grows faster and deeper, the tension building, coiling in the pit of your stomach, and you're struggling to maintain control, not wanting to end everything too soon. her body is flush against yours, her hips rising to meet yours as you rock into her, her breath hot against your ear.

"you're doing so good, baby," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. "so good for me."

those words alone nearly undo you, and you moan, burying your face deeper into her neck, her praise washing over you like warm water. she knows what it does to you, and she uses it against you, whispering encouragements, telling you how beautiful you are, how much she loves feeling you inside her.

your hand slides down her body, reaching between the two of you to find her clit. she gasps as your fingers brush over the sensitive nub, her grip tightening in yours, her legs squeezing tighter, her toes curling.

you continue to work her clit as your thrusts grow erratic, and you can feel her tightening around you, her muscles beginning to contract. her body writhes beneath yours, her back arching, her moans getting louder and louder until she lets out a broken cry, her walls clamping down on your cock, and you can't hold back any longer, a white-hot burst of pleasure shooting through you as your climax crashes into her.

her name falls from your lips as she comes undone beneath you, the two of you reaching a high that's impossible to describe, the pleasure overwhelming and intense, sending waves of euphoria throughout your body, leaving you breathless and panting. you ride out your orgasm together, holding onto each other tightly, never wanting to let go.

after a while, the two of you eventually separate, the need to catch your breath becoming too much. she lies beside you, her head resting on your chest, her hair splayed out across the pillow. your heart pounds beneath her ear, and you're sure she can feel it, too, but neither of you mentions it.

instead, you wrap your arm around her, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"y/n," she finally mumbles, her eyes still closed, her body relaxing into yours.

"yeah?"

"i don't want this to end."

you pause, your fingers freezing mid-trail on her back. you don't want this to end, either. not now, not ever. the thought of it twists something deep in your chest. you want her in your life, in whatever way you can have her, even if that means settling for stolen moments here and there.

"i don't either," you admit softly.

jimin lifts her head slightly, her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, she looks like she might cry. instead, she lets out a shaky breath, leaning in and pressing her forehead against yours, her nose brushing against yours.

suddenly, her head lifts again. "then let's not," she says quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. "i know it's not that simple, but we can… i don't know. we can make it work, right?"

the desperation in her tone, the way her eyes search yours, the way her breath hitches, it all hits you in a wave. how much this means to her, how much you mean to her. she doesn't want this to end any more than you do, and that's enough.

you brush a strand of hair away from her face, offering her a small smile. "i want to. more than anything. but it's going to take effort—real effort."

"i know," she says, nodding a little too quickly.

"but we're good at effort, right? like, we both put our all into everything we do. why can't we do that here, too?" she pauses, searching your eyes as if looking for reassurance. "i just—i don't want us to lose this because of, like… logistics or schedules or whatever. that's so stupid. we're better than that."

you chuckle, and she glares at you, a fist jokingly threatening to punch your arm. you raise your hands defensively, trying not to laugh, which only makes her pout more. it's hard to take her seriously when she looks so cute.

"we can. i'll do anything it takes."

her face softens, and a smile spreads across her lips. "me too."

series masterlist. main masterlist. prev. next.

[harrywavycurly]

Glitch: Wrecking Ball

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mild language, manipulation (Jeff changes some of your settings), emotional whiplash (thanks to Jeff) and Harry is a tiny bit of a dick.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this and do not come for me about the ending it’s all part of the plot and who else was it gonna be like honestly if you know me at all then you should’ve known who Jeff was gonna call😂💓

Tag List: @alicivava @cosmicneptune @daphnesutton @valeriiyuhh @drewrry @obsessiveenthusiast @me-undiscovered @psicostyles @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @harryscherries28 @blckburd @harry2121 @cevans-winchester @prettygurl-2009 @maudie-duan @sassamanda77 @triski73 @mema10

Summary: Harry sees you again for the first time since the party and it doesn’t go the way he or Jeff imagined it would💓

Seven days.

That’s how long Harry has gone without seeing you, not by choice of course, things kept coming up and he couldn’t get a moment of free time. Because honestly if he had it his way he would’ve searched Jeff’s phone the night of his party and stolen your number from him and broken every societal rule about not coming off too strongly and called you as many times as it took for you to answer. But he didn’t get the chance to do that because a few minutes after you left he was summoned into meaningless conversations with people he doesn’t even know. And somehow a pointless conversation wound him up here, sitting in Jeff’s living room a week later listening to someone play the piano, a melody that has Harry wanting to drift off to sleep with how lackluster it is. But then again that’s why he’s here, to help this person turn this boring piece into something actually worth staying awake to listen to.

Now Jeff on the other hand knows exactly what he’s doing and why he planned this meeting at his house instead of a studio or even Harry’s house that would’ve at least let him be more comfortable while listening to some half decent piano playing. Jeff knows that in exactly ten minutes you’ll be back from your lunch break that you’ve been taking promptly at eleven and ending at noon everyday since starting your job working for him, which is another reason why he made this meeting for half past eleven so a certain British man who is half asleep on his sofa will see you when you walk by the wall of windows that lines the back of his living room. He can tell just how badly Harry has been wanting to see you again, having already mentioned you a few times in conversation over the last few phone calls he’s had with him so he feels confident this reunion will be a decent sized step in the right direction.

“So? What do you think?” Trevor asks as he places his hands in his lap, his voice makes Harry startle a bit as he straightens up from being slumped over the armrest of the sofa.

“Uh well-”

“It’s boring.” Harry says with a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair still unable to wrap his head around the fact Jeff managed to talk him into this, he hates trying to help people come up with the right words to songs he doesn’t know the true message or purpose of.

Songwriting has always been an extremely emotional and very personal experience for Harry so he’s not sure how to help someone pry the words and melodies from the depths of their mind and creative soul. Especially since he has no clue who this man even is let alone what he’s trying to convey with this sleepy piano tune that’s so far just doomed to be played on a loop in some half working elevator somewhere. And right now, when all his mind can think of is the way your laugh sounds and the light sparkle of your eyes when you smiled at him, he really isn’t in the headspace to help anyone try to come up with their next big radio hit.

“It just needs the right lyrics or-”

“Or it just isn’t good-like do you even know what kind of feeling you’re trying to get across with this melody of yours? Because right now it’s just making me feel sleepy.” Jeff’s has to bite his lip to hold back his laugh as Harry stands up and runs a hand over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“Uhm well I was thinking it could be a love-” Harry doesn’t hear anything else Trevor says as he turns around and faces the backyard just in time to see you walk by the window. You’re only visible for a moment before you disappear behind a bush of some sort and it has Harry thinking maybe he’s seeing things. That his longing to see you again has now just manifested itself as phantom shapes that resemble you but when Jeff notices his odd behavior he looks over his shoulder and when he looks back at Harry the smirk on his face tells him all he needs to know, you’re really here and he isn’t going crazy.

“I gotta go.” He stutters and Jeff can’t help but laugh as Harry nearly trips over his own feet with how quickly he’s trying to get out the sliding back door, leaving all of the little politeness and business etiquette he has behind him as soon as he takes the first step outside.

You close your eyes as you place your hands in the dirt, letting a breath out through your nose as you begin to relax and feel at ease now that you’re back to being surrounded by plants and flowers instead of people who can’t even be bothered to return a friendly smile or say sorry when they bump into you on the sidewalk. You don’t know why the very idea of having to be around tons of people makes you feel as if you could take a never ending nap, because even the short interactions you have daily you find to be truly exhausting. It’s as if you weren’t meant to be around groups of people because the thing you find yourself craving is the simple feeling you get when you’re in the garden, peace. You’re just not sure you can get that same feeling from another person, at least not yet. The romantic in you refuses to give up so easily because there’s something deep down inside of you that knows someone out there can give you that feeling you just have to find them.

“It’s you.” Harry’s voice makes you jump as your eyes open to find your hands still in the dirt around some filler flowers you’re planting in front of a rose bush near the back fence of Jeff’s yard. “Sorry I keep scarring you I just-I swear I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again.” You quickly clap your hands together trying to get as much dirt off them as you can before you stand up and brush them off on your pants.

“Why would you think that? If you wanted to see me you could’ve stopped by.” You explain as you turn around so you can face him and Harry is taken back by your response to his admission but he brushes it off as he takes a small step towards you.

“That’s true but every time I tried to even attempt to come over here something would get in the way.”

“Until today?”

“Yes until today.”

“Interesting.”

Harry watches as you place a hand on your hip and that’s when he actually allows himself to take in your appearance and he finds himself getting lost in every little detail. Such as the dirt that’s under your nails, the way your hair is starting to fall out of the messy bun you have it in making some pieces blow around your face in the breeze, how the blue of your overalls is exceptionally faded at the knees making a small hole appear to be starting on the left one but mostly he finds himself lost in the way your eyes appear as if they are looking right through him. As if you can see all the beautiful and ugly things he’s got locked deep within himself with just one glance.

“Wha-what’s interesting?” He questions once you finally free him from your stare so you can reach down and grab a pot that has a bright yellow flower in it.

“Your excuse.” You answer as you turn and place it down in front of the rose bush you’re working on. “I expected it to be less insulting.” You explain with a shrug and Harry has to look around to make sure he is in fact the one you’re speaking to because he doesn’t understand how what he said to you was insulting in any way.

“Insulting?”

“You said you didn’t think you’d ever see me again but we both know that’s not true because we have friends in common so of course eventually you’d see me again.” Your voice is smooth and soft making Harry want to wrap himself up in it as he’s hanging on every word while he takes a step closer to you, only half aware of what he’s doing as he watches you kneel down and begin to plant the flower as if he’s not even there.

“Then you tell me how easy it is for you to let things get in the way of simply coming to see me as if you’re not a grown man fully capable of telling people no and making your own schedule.”

“That’s not-”

“So the torture you want me to think you had to endure by not being able to see me was all self inflicted because you could’ve ended it whenever you wanted.” Stunned isn’t even close to describing how Harry is feeling when you’re done speaking because for once he thinks he’s been found out, that the smooth and charming way he tries to finesse his way out of situations is just that, a bunch of pretty words he strings together to sound good when in reality they are meaningless and just his way of trying to get people to forget whatever it is he’s done wrong. In this case it’s him not doing everything possible to see you again after foolishly admitting he wanted to.

“Fuck.” He says with a sigh as he stares at your back as you reach for your shovel to dig a small hole. “How-what just happened?” He asks himself with a laugh because he can’t really wrap his mind around the fact you so nonchalantly called him out on his bullshit.

“Can you hand me that pot please?” You ask while looking over your shoulder and pointing to the small pot near Harry’s foot with a similar looking flower to the one you just planted in it.

“I really did want to see you again.” Harry tells you as he bends down to grab the pot. “I just honestly wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me? You kind of ran away from me the last time and I didn’t want to freak you out.” He says shyly, the excuse rolling off his tongue with a little too much ease as he walks over to you so he’s now standing beside where you’re kneeled down in the dirt in front of the rose bush.

“Harry.” You turn your head and look up at him so you can take the flower pot from him but for the first time since meeting you doesn’t want to face you, afraid of what flaw or insecurity you might see in him next the moment your eyes meet his. “Can you do me a favor?” Since he knows you’re looking at him all Harry does is nod his head as he stares off into the distance.

“Stop lying to me but most importantly stop lying to yourself.” With that you look away from him and put your focus back on the flowers in front of you that are doing their part in making the space around them more beautiful, something you like to think the man currently standing next you with a scowl on his face tries to do but just doesn’t quite know how to do it in a way that’s authentic to himself.

The thing with Harry is that you know he probably means well, there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to picture him truly being able to be malicious. But you are also very aware that like with most men, their egos tend to get in the way of letting them make the more rational and often times right decisions. You can tell with how stiff his posture is and the slight tick in his jaw that he’s not taking your reaction to seeing him again very well because you’re certain it didn’t go the way he had envisioned. For a moment you think maybe you were too harsh but as you sit with your hands in the soft dirt and your knees firmly pressing into the ground you come to the understanding that Harry needs someone to tell him the things that hurt, that make him think deeper, that maybe cause him to feel a little uncomfortable at times because it’s all part of forming connections that actually mean something.

The type of connection that in this moment you realize you wouldn’t mind having with him.

Harry doesn’t say anything as he slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He just stands there trying to come to terms with the fact you managed to crash through all the walls he’s built in an effort to keep his most vulnerable parts safe, as if you’re some sort of wrecking ball determined to leave him in a pile of his own emotional rubble. It’s not until you lean back and brush your hands off on the tops of your thighs that he chances a quick look in your direction and the moment he does he regrets it. You’re already looking at him, and the small smile you give him makes his shoulders loosen up and his jaw to unclench.

“Have a good rest of your day Harry.” The sweetness of your voice has his heart wanting to explode in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do so he just gives you a tight lipped smile before turning and heading back towards the house leaving you to get back to your gardening in peace.

Jeff is chewing on his bottom lip as he watches the whole ten minute interaction between you and Harry, the look on Harry’s face when he begins his slow walk back to the house lets Jeff know exactly how things went and he has to hide his excitement. Now Jeff knows very few people as well as he knows his bestfriend so when he planned this whole meeting he was smart about it, he went ahead and tinkered around in your settings and adjusted your tolerance to dishonestly to the bare minimum so when Harry eventually tried to toss his usual excuses that he tries to wrap up in a smooth and charming package it would end up backfiring because he also adjusted your conversation style to slightly more direct than it was the night you two met meaning you wouldn’t pull your punches, you’ll let Harry know exactly how you feel without sugarcoating it for him.

But it’s not that Jeff enjoys seeing his friend sulking as he walks into the house and all but falls back into his spot on the sofa, no Jeff hates it but he sees the bigger picture in Harry’s sadness. He sees the end goal of finally getting Harry to pour his heart out into songs people will be able to cry along with him to so if it means sitting across from him while he stares at his hands in his lap and lets out a few sad sighs then so be it.

It’s for his own good.

“She thinks I’m a proper fucking dick.” Harry says as he twists his H ring around on his finger. “I’ve-I’ve never had someone just shut me down like that.”

“Well even superstars have their off days Harry it’s fine.” Jeff reassures him with a shrug as he watches Harry shake his head and pinch his brows together.

“No this was different.” Jeff raises a brow as Harry turns his head to look out the window. “She can see through it-through all of it.”

“All of what?”

“This.” Harry motions to himself as he looks back at Jeff who is looking at him like he’s fully lost his mind. “She sees through the Harry Styles bullshit and it’s-it’s terrifying because who the fuck is she?”

“She’s-”

“She’s right here if you have something to say?” Your voice makes Harry’s head shoot up to look in your direction, Jeff who can clearly feel the weird tension between the two of you stands up and walks over to where you’re standing in the doorway that leads into his kitchen.

“Oh we were just saying how good you’re doing with the garden that’s all.” He lies in an attempt to not let this situation turn ugly because he can tell Harry is at the point in his sulking that often has him turning angry and that is not going to work well with the goal Jeff has in mind for how he wants today to end.

“Right Harry?” The look Jeff sends his curly haired friend over his shoulder is one that is begging him to go along with his story but when Harry just stands up and turns to face you with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and a hand on his hip and the other clenched into a fist at his side Jeff knows he is going to do everything but go along with the lie he set up.

“Actually no.” Jeff lets out a sigh as he looks down and shakes his head while you raise an eyebrow at Harry while crossing your arms over your chest suddenly feeling the need to guard your most vulnerable parts of yourself from the clearly very upset man standing only a few feet away from you.

“Well go on and tell me what you were saying then.” You watch Jeff make a move to slide past you so he can hide from what he already knows is going to be a fight because right now neither of you are going to be wiling to hold back and he rather hear it muffled from the safety of the kitchen than having to hear and see it unfold front row.

“Who even are you?” Harry asks harshly as he glares at you. “Because two weeks ago no one knew you even exsisted and now you’re planting flowers-”

“Marigolds.”

“What?”

“The flowers. They’re called marigolds and I’m planting them because that’s my job. I’m a landscape designer or maybe that’s too complicated for you to understand so it’s fine if you just call me the gardener.” You tell him with an edge to your voice that has Harry swallowing and taking a small step backwards. “So that’s who I am. I’m the gardener and maybe you didn’t know I existed before two weeks ago because how often do you find yourself talking to gardeners or anyone for that matter that doesn’t have something to offer you in exchange for your time?” As you berate him with your very well thought out words Harry feels like he can actually see something switch in you, he can see the change in your demeanor making the free spirited and kindhearted girl he met seven days ago disappear leaving behind a guarded and defensive one to take her place.

“So that’s what you think of me? That I only surround myself with people that I can benefit from in some way?”

“That’s what you tell people with how you act.”

“How I act? You don’t even fucking know me.” Harry is baffled by how you seem to come to such startling conclusions about him when you haven’t even had a truly normal conversation with him.

“I don’t? So you’re not here to work on some musical project that will not only help someone else’s career but solidify you as a writer that can turn even the sleepiest piano tune into something beautiful?” Your question has Harry’s eyes going a bit wide as he looks over to the piano that Trevor was playing on before Jeff sent him home after Harry stormed off into the backyard.

“How-how did you-”

“The door was half open and I heard the piano and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why’d he’d be playing in front of you.”

“It was a favor for Jeff.”

“A favor that’s mutually beneficial because you’ll get a songwriting credit and he gets a cut of it. Sounds lovely.”

“It’s called business so yeah it’s still a favor even if it does benefit all parties involved because I didn’t want to do it in the first place.”

“Then why do it?” Harry lets out a frustrated sigh as he runs both hands through his hair and tugs at his roots trying his best to calm himself down. “You’re in charge of your own life Harry and that incudes which favors you do or don’t do.”

“You don’t know shit about me or my life.” He snaps making you just roll your eyes as you place your hands on your hips. “All you see are the parts of me I want you to see and guess what? I don’t fucking care if you like it or not because you’re just someone who works with you’re pretty little flowers and plants all day you don’t know what it’s like to have to try to make other people happy all the time. You don’t know how exhausting it is to give parts of yourself away just to please people who don’t give a shit about you.”

“You ever think that’s why I work with my pretty little flowers all day? Because they don’t need anything from me other than a little bit of water and some sunlight and in return they leave me with a beautiful space that will always be there as long as I’m willing to do the little bit of work to keep it thriving.”

“Right so I should just say screw it all and become a fucking gardener then is that what you’re saying?”

“No.” You say with a sigh as you turn to face the sliding door that will take you back outside. “I’m just saying it’s a choice you keep making to allow people who don’t care about you to take parts of your happiness from you so if you want them to stop then start telling people no.”

“You’re very naive if you think it’s just as simple as that.”

“Maybe I am but then again maybe you’ve just forgetten who holds the real power here.” Harry watches you grab the handle of the door so you can slide it open before turning to look at him over your shoulder. “You do Harry. You have the power to take your life back you just have to be willing to actually do it.” Your voice isn’t as harsh as it’s been during most of this altercation and Harry notices the way your eyes soften as they look into his but he looks away before he can get too lost in them.

“Have a good rest of your day.” He mumbles repeating the same phrase you said to him in the garden earlier before turning and heading for Jeff’s front door, needing to create as must distance as he can from you before you manage to truly break him in ways he wasn’t even aware he was capable of breaking.

Jeff is franticly hitting buttons on his phone trying to salvage the situation he can hear becoming escalated in any way possible but he knows by the way his house practically shakes with how hard his front door slams shut that he’s too late, the damage has been done. He lets out a groan as he makes your conversation style way less direct and then scrolls down to your different emotional settings and before he can even think twice he makes your level of sensitivity higher than average because if he can’t control how Harry is handling the aftermath of what just happened in his living room at least he has control over how you do. He knows it will take a few minutes for your new settings to take place so while he waits he looks behind him and out the window and for a split second he feels bad when he sees you slowly sit down on the concrete bench in front of his broken fountain because he knows in just a few minutes you’re going to be upset with yourself, but Jeff pushes those feelings down and tells himself you’re not really capable of feeling things, you’re just a well written out computer program.

“Oh no.” You whisper as you replay the whole conversation you just had with Harry in your head. You feel a strange mix of sadness and regret begin to fill your chest making you bring a hand up and place it over your heart. A stinging sensation starts building up in your eyes as you blink and when you bring a hand up to wipe your face you raise an eyebrow at how wet your cheek feels.

“Don’t let him make you cry.” Jeff tells you as he suddenly appears right in front of you. He can tell you’re confused as to what’s happening but that confusion only lasts for a moment before you understand that the wetness on your face is from the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes without you even noticing.

“I was mean to him.” You say with a sniffle and Jeff is glad he is the one who gets to watch you go through this emotion for the first time because you’re actions are a little awkward as you just let the tears flow down your face making no attempt to wipe them away, instead just letting them drip down your jaw and land on the tops of your thighs causing little dark spots to appear on the denim of your overalls. “So-so mean to him and he’s been nothing but nice to me.”

“He’ll be fine just give him some time.”

“I don’t think so.” You mumble as you struggle to gain any control of your emotions and Jeff wants to roll his eyes and take you by the shoulders and shake you and tell you he knows he will be fine because he knows Harry and he will want to apologize for his part in it after he takes some time to reflect on what happened.

“Trust me he will come around and it’ll be fine.” He tries his best to sound reassuring because he can see how upset you are with yourself. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” He adds making you look up at him and when your watery eyes lock on his he feels his heart drop, and even knowing that your tears are nothing more than a water based solution being pumped from a tube that’s connected to your tear ducts from a compartment where your ribs would be if you were a real person, he still doesn’t enjoy the look of them falling down your face.

“Just because it was true doesn’t make it any less mean.” With that Jeff just nods and decides maybe it’s best to leave you alone for a bit so he turns around and heads back inside and does the only thing he can think of that might make Harry do something that shows his interest in you and expedite the whole apology process and that’s set you up to meet someone new, but not just anyone he wants it to be someone Harry doesn’t exactly like and with a quick scroll through his contacts Jeff finds just the right person for the job.

“Bingo.” He whispers to himself as he taps the man’s contact information so he can hit the call icon and bring the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey Shawn how’s it going?”

[brighteststar707]

Also for the ask game!! I'd like to make it sound all fancy and smart like I'm an English teacher, but my brain is too silly for that

6 - Something I remember vividly from reading one of your fics: Is it weird that the first thing that came to mind is Jaehee with pigtails from the 'Hair' fic you wrote for her? It was such a domestic piece, but picturing myself playing with her little pigtails and watching her blush as I call her cute, is something I still remember very vividly, oddly enough. I love Jaehee!! And I love the way you write her to bits and pieces. Soft coffee wife, my beloved <3

7 - What made me the most emotional after reading: Telepathy. It's always going to be Telepathy. Okay, maybe not always, but it'll definitely remain up there even in the future. I'd say it's my favorite fic of yours, actually. Which is... honestly very surprising, because I don't get as effected by Jumin/V stories as I do with Choi twins or Rika, for exactly! I do get sad and it's interesting for me to see them explored in different ways, but I never really felt... all choked up about them, you know? Well, you took that and slapped me right across the face with the masterpiece that is Telepathy./pos The way you wrote down the slow and painful process of drifting apart from your best friend... God, it felt both cathartic and painful. Probably because it's something I've experienced first hand, very recently, at that. Telepathy is a fic that left me laying on my bed and staring up into the ceiling, just thinking about it for a good 15 minutes. And, you know what? That's my favorite kind of feeling after reading a fic. I love Telepathy. I will gush about for as long as it exists. Go read Telepathy, ya'll.

8 - What I like the most about your writing: Descriptive writing. Now, it's probably because descriptive is my personal weakest point (in my opinion), and I tend to always focus extremely hard whenever I read someone else use descriptive writing in their works to learn new techniques and memorize if it sounds good or not. Either way, God, do I adore the way you manage to just paint the exact image of what's happening as I read. It's not too much, and it's not too little. It's just right. If I would write up everything I vividly remember from your fics, this ask would get too damn long, but what's important is that I often remember the exact location. How it looked. How it felt. How it smelled. How a certain character was dressed. How their face looked. Whether it was warm or cold. What sounds there were. It's those tiny details that make even the simplest of your stories shine so brightly! They just... get stuck in your head like your favorite song. And I think that's just amazing <3

I don't know what I did to deserve this Mia!! I've been sat here reading this over and over and feeling all warm and fuzzy🥺 Please don't worry about trying to sound English teacher-y, you've conveyed everything here so well.

Soft coffee wife Jaehee! I've made it my personal mission to write her soft and happy because she gets to little opportunity to do that in the canon routes (and I love her to bits and think she deserves the world). I'm so glad the pigtails imagery stuck! She deserves her cute moments too!

The Telepathy love!!! I will always appreciate love for Telepathy, it's one of those fics that will also always be one of my favs because of the writing process and the relationship between V and Jumin. It's a wonderful surprise to hear that my writing had that effect on you, especially for a relationship that doesn't usually affect you that strongly. It's all I could ask for, really. I'm very sorry that you had to deal with the slow loss of a friend. It's a uniquely painful experience and I'm sending you a lot of warmth <3

The details of my stories sticking in your head like a song.... Oooh I'm going to need a moment, that's one of the nicest things anyone has said about my writing. Thank you, Mia.

[minkdelovely]

I AM A WRECK! A JUMBLED PILE OF BONES THAT CAN ONLY DREAM OF BEING PUT BACK IN ORDER AGAIN.

HAZEL, MY GOD 😩♥️

There’s so much yearning and wholesome desire that I honestly don’t know what to do with other than greedily devour it to the best of my ability. But I fear I have become an overflowing cup, each new sentiment pushing me past the brink to join the puddle of my feelings on the table.

How you manage to make us care for with this man in new ways every chapter is something that should be studied, if I’m being honest. So know that at the very least that’s what I’m doing, even though my notes below don’t always convey how seriously I’m taking this 🥲♥️

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

His fingers would make little circles and pattern eights along your shoulder blade. Your gaze out and forward, his intently focused on the ceiling fan; then and there.

Occasionally he’d spell a word across your skin  to see if you were paying attention. Today: B R E A K F A S T ?

He didn’t want to interrupt the sounds of the radio on the dresser with the half hearted question.

GRIPPING MY CHEST ALREADY AND WE’VE BARELY GOTTEN STARTED

You both tended to enjoy the back porch, but he felt an urge for novelty.

HOW MANY TIMES MUST I BEG YOU TO STOP 🥲

“Can I take you to the water? We could fish. I’m in no rush today.” You were unsure, tilting your head a little. He had offered before but you admitted you didn’t know how. “You’ll have time to shower before work.” His index finger came over and waited for yours to hook into his.

THE FINGER HOOK WILL GET ME EVERY. FUCKING. TIME.

As a child he often ran through the woods of his home and played pretend, and as he got older and his imagination shifted he would fish for his mother. When his friends began to date and pair off, he’d hunt animals in a parallel kind of chase. 

They took home gals, he dragged in rabbits.

I SAID… stop 🥲

But then her silhouette was gone. And the cricket’s song became one of loneliness. The walk to the house now a chore, a thing he had to do to get from Point A to Point B.

I have a lot of feelings about this and refuse to spoil anyone else’s experience with my crazy sad brain so sorry if any of these start to feel vague 🙈

Alastor wasn’t loquacious as it were, but when he did feel like talking he talked.

the whole paragraph is a joy, but THIS. As someone who would consider themselves to be long-winded and chatty, this just made my heart SWELL. I’d listen and talk to him for DAYS 🥺

“The fucker has spikes!” He said it like he was introducing a villain, “I grabbed one once and it flexed these spines and I dropped it. I broke a pole trying to beat one to death once because I was too scared to pick it up again.”

I’M CRYING. THIS IS JUST SO ADORABLE AND HUMAN OF HIM.

Easily they were worth more than three dollars a piece. He bought two of them… when? The thought brought a silly, crooked smile you couldn’t contain. 

S 👏🏻 T 👏🏻 O 👏🏻 P 👏🏻

Oh, right… Alastor had friends in a sense, but never had he really had someone he introduced you to that was remotely important. No one he lit up for, no one he invited over, no one he completely relaxed his put-on smile for. You had to wonder where they'd all gone.

GODDDDD

He shook his head, “He has a life now.”

I CAN HEAR HIS SOFT LONELY VOICE OH MY GOD 😩

He didn't look at you, which was the loudest indicator he wasn’t fond of the question. He cast out his own line, waiting to reply until he could settle, “Sweetheart, do you really think I’ve been living a life compatible with his? Or any of them?” He pulled back on the line a little to feel the tension, “Wives get uncomfortable inviting over single 40 somethings like myself. And I can only stomach so many surprise female dinner guests at such things.”

OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH I WANT TO HOLD HIM SO BADLY 🥺

Being a single man at his age, with a good job, a car, and land, made people uncomfortable. A lifelong chosen bachelor is fine, a rake is expected, but someone who seemed to be disinterested in dating and in fooling around? You could imagine the looks on their wive’s faces, asking questions that were thinly veiled insults.

GOD IT’S TOO REAL — IT HURTS HERE AND MY NEED TO CONSOLE IS THROUGH THE ROOF

Alastor cackled, doubling over at the memory. “I threw out my line and as it flew through the air, a gull passing by grabbed the worm. It fought me for a minute before managing to get loose.” He ended up squating, blue jeans rolled up at the ankles and covered in spurs you just now noticed. “It looked as confused as I was.”

how do I become more and more charmed by him?? It’s honestly ASTOUNDING. Also him in blue jeans?? Stabbing me would be kinder at this point 😩♥️

The morning was spent reveling in new and useless information about each other. Your fear of dogs, his fear of armadillos (someone told them they had the plague).

I FUCKING SAID STOP PLEASE 😭🥲🫠

“I’m fine”, just embarrassed, you assured him before picking up your shoe and throwing it, “I have to go home and change out these shoes.” Leftie smacked against the tree with a soft pop.

I ALSO would have thrown the shoe in this instance, my temper/shame would demand it

“Bring over a few pairs, if you have them. I’m sure a pair of mom’s could fit you, you can wear them home. We could toss these into the river. Shoot ‘em. Run em over.” He retrieved the thrown shoe before kneeling to remove the other one. He touched your ankle, eyes shooting up to monitor your face for any pained expressions. “Burn ‘em.”

he’s so silly and adorable and also he still has his mom’s shoes and I’ll never be normal again (if I ever was)

You warned he didn’t have to do that and he flashed you a look, his smirk alone called you a hypocrite and made you go silent. “You can’t perform with tattered feet or a rolled ankle.” He laced them tightly, “I know where the stickers and ant hills are, I’ll be fine.”

I’M WRITHINGGG I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS AAHHHHH

“Ah, apparently not. He left before I was born,” Alaster fidgeted with the straps of your shoes. “He hadn’t considered,” every word was measured, “the realities of,” you could see him searching for the words in real time; this was a conversation he had never had before, “of being with my mother before knocking her up.”

The ‘family planning’ conversation on the kitchen table fluttered back to you.

OHHHH MANNN I AM UNWELL. I NEED TO HOLD HIM FOR A YEAR AT LEAST AND NEVER LET GO 🥲

“He left her the house and the land before going. Kept his promise to help take care of me, in that sense. So, no. I think indifference is fair enough.” He grabbed your fish by the tail and placed it into the bucket. “Kinda funny though, had he stuck around he’d have seen how the only thing I got from him was his biggest worry: my complexion!” A joyless laugh, “But I’m just like her in all the ways that matter.”

OUR BABYYY. This is such a refreshing take on his feelings towards the father we all don’t know.

You wondered about ‘family planning’. In their age it was nothing short of guessing and lamb innards. It was impossible to pretend you knew what his father would have lived through had he stayed. But you knew very well what Alastor lived through because he left. New Orleans was different than many other parts of the country when it came to mixed children, but the attitude was less acceptance and more a baseline tolerance for their existence.

HAZEL YOU JUST NEVER FAIL TO REALLY HIT THESE POINTS HOME 😭✨

He led you until the clearing, he knew the land was flat there, and slowed down to let you walk a little bit ahead. The view of the house was much more inviting with you in it.

WEEPING AGAIN

As promised, a shower. Originally alone, Alastor sitting on the toilet seat talking to you about dinner. Then he got quiet. He startled you a little when he peeked behind the curtain but everything settled when he got inside and his hands wrapped around your waist. Kisses for kiss’s sake. Skin on skin just to feel closer than you were before. A hum buzzing his chest as you hugged him tightly and wasted some water. Well, ‘wasted’ is subjective. The warmth radiating off his stomach rivaled the shower’s spray. You knew there wasn’t time for a nap, but the comfort was so deeply rooted you worried you’d fall asleep in his arms then and there. 

THIS WHOLE THING IS A PROVERBIAL BASEBALL BAT TO MY HEART

“Throwing them away seemed a waste. Glad they could be of use.” He said it so casually but it was more than that. When she died he packed away her items and forgot about them. He couldn’t throw them away. It still felt like her house, after all. Who was he to change anything?

OH ALASTOR 🥺 HE’S DOING HIS BEST TO BE SO STRONG HERE

You quickly buried the sincere sweetness of the moment with a joke, “Finally this long con is paying off!” What else could you do, threading the strap of your beau’s dead, dearly loved mother’s heels? It was like being on cloud nine with lead shoes. Confusingly wonderful and supremely daunting. You were literally walking in her shoes. The irony made you squeeze your arms to your sides to make sure your sweat pads were in their place.

EXQUISITE AND SO IMPACTFUL JESUS CHRIST HAZEL 😩

He knew it was a joke, but had it been true he’d build a home on his land and fill it with shoes and dresses and whatever else you asked for. A stage all your own if you wanted. He’d clap and throw flowers at your feet nightly. If you’d let him. 

Maybe he could do that anyway. Every night, praise you with his mouth in all the ways he could imagine you’d enjoy. 

AND WE’RE RIGHT BACK TO WRITHING — OH MY LORD

He knew exactly what he wanted it to be and knew very well what you didn’t want. So, letting sleeping dogs lie, he instead considered what you were actually getting out of the arrangement as it stood now. 

MY HEART IS ACTUALLY IN MY THROAT AND IT ACHES

You’d made it clear your thoughts on marriage (“I won’t be bought by jewelry and promises of a pretty cage.”)  though he did consider what could ever make you want that legal lock.

I literally put my hand over my eyes and put my phone down for a second (not hyperbole, this really happened) — I can’t fucking handle this oh my god…

And if he was aware of their preferences, they could still enjoy their love lives as they always had tried to before marriage. Alastor had considered such an offer before. Seriously considered it. It seemed to solve all of the problems he and his lady friend had. 

UGHHH THE HEARTACHE JUST CONTINUES TO GROW

His hands twisted around the steering wheel. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, he was always going to be alone. But the tiniest speck of desire to have someone love him and share his life remained buried in the viscera of his reality. So he turned down the sham marriage. What if he met someone inconceivable? Suddenly he would be an adulterer. Which was just hilarious to him. Such a thing could lead to a loss of employment and social shunning.

Plus, his mother would shake her head if he opened her very deserved home to someone purely existing to make a pleasant lie for the world. Disappointment could leak straight from her grave and into the floorboards.

YOU’VE OFFICIALLY RE-DECLARED WAR ON ME. I THOUGHT WITH THE MARRIAGE WE HAD MOVED PAST IT, BUT THIS IS WAR???

His mind conjured images of you sitting pretty in your trousers in Beth’s. Moments like those, before he knew you, you had all of the things you wanted and seemingly needed. It made you upsettingly attractive to him. 

FUUUUCKKK I’M SO CLOSE TO TAPPING OUT BUT I REFUSE

As the car rolled over the bridge and you both made your way into the city proper, his thoughts wandered back to the notion of rings. His mother never had one, so he had nothing to hand down. Would you wear gold, like the necklace you hung on the mirror in the guest room? Or silver?

MY SOUL IS DESPERATE TO LEAVE MY BODYYY

“Excuse you, you’re not welcome here.”

oh fuck, the jaws theme is playing again… and I think I know who for

Brady’s hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you around, something slipping around your wrists as a uniformed cop came around the corner of the atrium. You struggled to get away from him, shouting general protests to being suddenly manhandled. Your voice erupted, the first cannon shot of the war as women and men began to swarm and berate the detective.

KENNETH!! WE MEET AGAIN

“Prostitution.”

WILLIAM!! I FUCKING KNEW IT!! I KNEW HE HAD BAD VIBES

A beat of silence as the room collectively gasped. Ruth was the first one to truly lay her hands on him, snatching his hat off and smacking him across the head.

🗣️ RUTH: DISRESPECT THIS MAN!

“Hush. You confessed to it already, no point crying now.” The cop’s voice was harsh, his disgust barely hidden. His palms were calloused and scratched at the exposed skin of your arms.

HIS MASK IS SLIPPING BIG TIME

You didn’t feel yourself begin to cry, it was a reaction to the fact you hadn’t blinked since you became aware Brady didn’t seem too interested in your reaction to this.

This wasn’t an arrest. It was a trap.

MOTHER. FUCKING. KENNETH. AND THAT LITTLE BITCH BILLY. I SWEAR TO GODDD 😩

A Doe in Fall (part 11)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught 📍 (this bitch is getting long)

Horny? Not this story yet but….Don’t worry, just wait a couple days… 👀 💦

Part 11 Caught

Taking time to cast out the line and wait for the big one to take the bait.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, jaws theme plays, fishing, sweet as fuck, and then not sweet, prostitution yelled into a crowd, rough hands, I won’t say the word ‘paddy wagon’ because the history seems to be targeted at the Irish in America so it’s called a wagon here」

Minors if you violate the MDNI I will toss you back into the river lie the pinfish you are 💥 🎣

Peaceful. Your head on his chest. Even breathes, strong heart. Corporeal. Real. There with you. A ritual to whoever brought you into his embrace, every morning you lied against him and you stared out the window. Past the greenhouse, where the woods were allowed to run wild and you knew the animals therein were safe to exist as they were meant to. Everything and everyone in their element.

His fingers would make little circles and pattern eights along your shoulder blade. Your gaze out and forward, his intently focused on the ceiling fan; then and there.

Occasionally he’d spell a word across your skin  to see if you were paying attention. Today: B R E A K F A S T ?

He didn’t want to interrupt the sounds of the radio on the dresser with the half hearted question.

He carried your plate out onto the front porch, the swinging bench as much a perfectly suitable place to eat as anywhere else. You both tended to enjoy the back porch, but he felt an urge for novelty.

As you nibbled, he stared at the car. He didn’t really want to leave, but he wanted to go somewhere with you.

“Can I take you to the water? We could fish. I’m in no rush today.” You were unsure, tilting your head a little when he asked. He had offered before but you admitted you didn’t know how. “You’ll have time to shower before work.” His index finger came over and waited for yours to hook into his.

Alastor was beyond smitten watching you and your trousers bound down his steps. Hand in hand, in the early morning breeze of the impending fall, he led you through his property to the water’s edge.

A small cup of earthworms he scrounged up while you changed, two poles from the shed, and a bucket he hoped would have fish soon enough.

As a child he often ran through the woods of his home and played pretend, and as he got older and his imagination shifted he would fish for his mother. When his friends began to date and pair off, he’d hunt animals in a parallel kind of chase. 

They took home gals, he dragged in rabbits.

And when his mother died, and the food he brought home was more than he needed, he stopped venturing past the clearing. That trek home to a bright house, his mother waiting on the back porch surrounded by the chirps of crickets was something he cherished.

But then her silhouette was gone. And the cricket’s song became one of loneliness. The walk to the house now a chore, a thing he had to do to get from Point A to Point B.

Pulling you by the hand past the field and its tall grass, into the shade of the trees where the air was so cool it bordered on wet, he wasn’t so worried about the return trip. No tedium in the navigation now.  

Alastor wasn’t loquacious as it were, but when he did feel like talking he talked. He could, and did, name every species of fish that lived in the river. The ones he liked to eat, the ones he liked to look at, and the fish he didn’t care for much at all. His mother’s favorite was bluegill, and he said it was the scariest fish when he was young.

“The fucker has spikes!” He said it like he was introducing a villain, “I grabbed one once and it flexed these spines and I dropped it. I broke a pole trying to beat one to death once because I was too scared to pick it up again.”

You’d never fished. Not because you didn’t care for it, it just wasn’t what you did. Your mother didn’t take you to rivers or the sea. You stayed in buildings and parks near people. You could see the water, just never really interacted with it. Luckily, Alastor was ecstatic to teach you. 

He saddled up behind you and explained how to cast out. It took a few tries to get it right, the release of the line a little tricky to get down at first. You could see the shine of the reels and could tell they were expensive and unused. Easily they were worth more than three dollars a piece. He bought two of them… when? The thought brought a silly, crooked smile you couldn’t contain. 

“A friend accidentally hooked his own back once.” You watched the way his gaze seemed to soften as he was looking into the distant past.

“I hope he’s gotten better at it.”

Alastor shrugged. 

Oh, right… Alastor had friends in a sense, but never had he really introduced you to someone that was remotely important. No one he lit up for, no one he invited over, no one he completely relaxed his put-on smile for. You had to wonder where they'd all gone.

“Do you ever see him?”

He shook his head, “He has a life now.”

Your chuckle wasn’t meant to be cruel, but it came off a little too incredulous, “Do you not have a life?”

He didn't look at you, which was the loudest indicator he wasn’t fond of the question. He cast out his own line, waiting to reply until he could settle, “Sweetheart, do you really think I’ve been living a life compatible with his? Or any of them?” He pulled back on the line a little to feel the tension, “Wives get uncomfortable inviting over single 40 somethings like myself. And I can only stomach so many surprise female dinner guests at such things.”

You felt like an ass. 

Being a single man at his age, with a good job, a car, and land, made people uncomfortable. A lifelong chosen bachelor is fine, a rake is expected, but someone who seemed to be disinterested in dating and in fooling around? You could imagine the looks on their wive’s faces, asking questions that were thinly veiled insults.

What do you do for fun?

Is it difficult to find respectable dates when you work in jazz?

So, you’ve never been married, is that right? Not even close?

A mood change. You waited a moment to let silence kill the topic and asked, “What is the catch you’re most proud of?”

He thought for a second before a lopsided grin spread and you felt your heartbeat relax. “A gull.”

“A gull?!”

Alastor cackled, doubling over at the memory. “I threw out my line and as it flew through the air, a gull passing by grabbed the worm. It fought me for a minute before managing to get loose.” He ended up squating, blue jeans rolled up at the ankles and covered in spurs you just now noticed. “It looked as confused as I was.”

The morning was spent reveling in new and useless information about each other. Your fear of dogs, his fear of armadillos (someone told them they had the plague). The time you accidentally walked into a stranger’s home, the time he startled an old woman because he was standing too still in a store and she thought he was a mannequin.

Moments of intimacy intermittently interrupted by a tugging of the fishing line and excited easing in of the prize.

The fuckers did have spikes. You reached out for your first successful catch and the barbs pricked you. With a hurried step back, your short heel sank into the dirt and you lost your balance. Your ass hit the ground hard, and you needed a breath before you could reply to Alastor’s worried questions.

“I’m fine”, just embarrassed, you assured him before picking up your shoe and throwing it, “I have to go home and change out these shoes.” Leftie smacked against the tree with a soft pop.

“Bring over a few pairs, if you have them. I’m sure a pair of mom’s could fit you, you can wear them home. We could toss these into the river. Shoot ‘em. Run em over.” He retrieved the thrown shoe before kneeling to remove the other one. He touched your ankle, eyes shooting up to monitor your face for any pained expressions. “Burn ‘em.”

“First my stockings last week and now my shoes? You’ve gone fire-happy.” You wiggled your toes for his peace of mind, “It’s okay, I don’t have many shoes. We’ll reconcile someday.”

Alastor sat down properly on the grass and dirt of the river’s edge and took off his shoes and socks. You thought maybe he was trying to commiserate somehow, until he shoved the socks into the toe box and slipped one onto your foot. 

You warned he didn’t have to do that and he flashed you a look, his smirk alone called you a hypocrite and made you go silent. “You can’t perform with tattered feet or a rolled ankle.” He laced them tightly, “I know where the stickers and ant hills are, I’ll be fine.”

Your eyes wandered over the bucket of water and fish, the worms in their cup, and his bare feet on the grass.

“Who taught you to be such a well rounded gentleman?” A rhetorical question, mostly. 

“My mother, of course.”

“Your father didn’t worry you’d be too soft?”

“Ah, apparently not. He left before I was born,” Alaster fidgeted with the straps of your shoes. “He hadn’t considered,” every word was measured, “the realities of,” you could see him searching for the words in real time; this was a conversation he had never had before, “of being with my mother before knocking her up.”

The ‘family planning’ conversation on the kitchen table fluttered back to you.

“Oh, can I have permission to hate him?” Always the easiest emotion.

He clicked his tongue, hands busy looping your shoes together by their straps and then attaching them to his belt loop.

“He left her the house and the land before going. Kept his promise to help take care of me, in that sense. So, no. I think indifference is fair enough.” He grabbed your fish by the tail and placed it into the bucket. “Kinda funny though, had he stuck around he’d have seen how the only thing I got from him was his biggest worry: my complexion!” A joyless laugh, “But I’m just like her in all the ways that matter.”

It came out before you could think it through, “He didn’t love your mother?”

He winced. “Cowards can love just fine, I think. Maybe they love the hardest actually.” You nodded, knowing this wasn’t a philosophical debate where your opinion was needed. “I mean, what kind of man just gives away his only assets?” Alastor leaned over to fix the collar of your blouse, “A scared idiot in love, of course.”

You wondered about ‘family planning’. In their age it was nothing short of guessing and lamb innards. It was impossible to pretend you knew what his father would have lived through had he stayed. But you knew very well what Alastor lived through because he left. New Orleans was different than many other parts of the country when it came to mixed children, but the attitude was less acceptance and more a baseline tolerance for their existence.

The conversation, and shoe change, brought a natural end to the morning. Alastor helped you up, taking the opportunity to brush off your backside. 

He led you until the clearing, he knew the land was flat there, and slowed down to let you walk a little bit ahead. The view of the house was much more inviting with you in it.

As promised, a shower. Originally alone, Alastor sitting on the toilet seat talking to you about dinner. Then he got quiet. He startled you a little when he peeked behind the curtain but everything settled when he got inside and his hands wrapped around your waist. Kisses for kiss’s sake. Skin on skin just to feel closer than you were before. A hum buzzing his chest as you hugged him tightly and wasted some water. Well, ‘wasted’ is subjective. The warmth radiating off his stomach rivaled the shower’s spray. You knew there wasn’t time for a nap, but the comfort was so deeply rooted you worried you’d fall asleep in his arms then and there. 

His mothers shoes did fit, a pair of her black double straps with a nice wide heel replaced your T-straps and their damned thin one. The offer and action of presenting them to you was bigger than could be acknowledged. It was clear in how he wiped them clean with drilled in focus and set them in front of the bed for you like the main course of a fancy meal. The way they’d been kept packaged and neat in the guest closet. 

“Throwing them away seemed a waste. Glad they could be of use.” He said it so casually but it was more than that. When she died he packed away her items and forgot about them. He couldn’t throw them away. It still felt like her house, after all. Who was he to change anything?

It was a little surprise to himself when he offered them to you. It seemed natural at the moment but as he said it his calm heart backtracked. Was that okay to do? Was it disrespectful to his mother? Was it rude to offer you a dead woman’s things? Would you be uncomfortable?

The little strings of worry all cut loose though when you did the straps and said, “I’ll return them in perfect condition.”

He had thought you’d take them forever. But no, that was better. “I’ll buy you your own just like them.”

You quickly buried the sincere sweetness of the moment with a joke, “Finally this long con is paying off!” What else could you do, threading the strap of your beau’s dead, dearly loved mother’s heels? It was like being on cloud nine with lead shoes. Confusingly wonderful and supremely daunting. You were literally walking in her shoes. The irony made you squeeze your arms to your sides to make sure your sweat pads were in their place.

Alastor thought if all you were getting out of this was a pair of shoes, you were definitely coming up in the red. 

Negative. 

Losing out. 

He knew it was a joke,  but had it been true he’d build a home on his land and fill it with shoes and dresses and whatever else you asked for. A stage all your own if you wanted. He’d clap and throw flowers at your feet nightly. If you’d let him. 

Maybe he could do that anyway. Every night, praise you with his mouth in all the ways he could imagine you’d enjoy. 

The analogy carried through as he drove you to work. What was the price of admission and had he managed to afford it yet? Again, he fretted over what he was giving you in all of… whatever exactly this was.

He knew exactly what he wanted it to be and knew very well what you didn’t want. So, letting sleeping dogs lie, he instead considered what you were actually getting out of the arrangement as it stood now. 

He’d met women who just wanted a home to pretty up. You had your own space you seemed keen on so he doubted that was it. Sometimes women pursued him for his obvious disposable income. Images of you swiping the hundred off the hotel bar played across his thoughts. No, you seemed capable enough to earn more than your job paid. If anything you seemed to enjoy chasing down marks.

You’d made it clear your thoughts on marriage (“I won’t be bought by jewelry and promises of a pretty cage.”)  though he did consider what could ever make you want that legal lock. He’d had friends who would have liked the safety a husband lended their image. Women who didn’t have any need or want for men in general. But things like banking and ownership were easier with a husband. And if he was aware of their preferences, they could still enjoy their love lives as they always had tried to before marriage. Alastor had considered such an offer before. Seriously considered it. It seemed to solve all of the problems he and his lady friend had. 

His hands twisted around the steering wheel. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, he was always going to be alone. But the tiniest speck of desire to have someone love him and share his life remained buried in the viscera of his reality. So he turned down the sham marriage. What if he met someone inconceivable? Suddenly he would be an adulterer. Which was just hilarious to him. Such a thing could lead to a loss of employment and social shunning. 

Plus, his mother would shake her head if he opened her very deserved home to someone purely existing to make a pleasant lie for the world. Disappointment could leak straight from her grave and into the floorboards.

Everyone wants something, though. He wanted to be seen in his entirety and accepted as he was.

You?

Well. All the things you seemed to want you had. Autonomy. Adoration. Attention. 

His mind conjured images of you sitting pretty in your trousers in Beth’s. Moments like those, before he knew you, you had all of the things you wanted and seemingly needed. It made you upsettingly attractive to him. 

Alastor didn’t want to be needed by someone, he wanted to be wanted by someone who already had everything.

As the car rolled over the bridge and you both made your way into the city proper, his thoughts wandered back to the notion of rings. His mother never had one, so he had nothing to hand down. Would you wear gold, like the necklace you hung on the mirror in the guest room? Or silver?

He suppressed an embarrassed chuckle, he was getting ahead of himself again. Daydreaming while he drove like he always did. But this time you were in the car with him. 

You caught him blushing, asking if he got too much sun by the water earlier. Alastor’s eyes went wide and he laughed a forced ‘ha ha ha!’, punctuated by a flat and low “No!”

All you could do was laugh in return when he didn’t elaborate. The way he was gripping the steering wheel made his knuckles go pale through the thin skin of his hands.  But the wonky smile he had told you he wasn’t angry. 

He gave you a peck outside the theater’s side door, promised to swing by yours after work so you could grab some shoes, and drove off. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Excuse you, you’re not welcome here.”

You heard it but didn’t really register what that implied. Sometimes people tried to sneak in who’d been banned, but it was…not common. The list of people was quite short. You didn’t stop to think of them all, regardless.

You made a habit of calling Ruth by her stage name as early in the work day as you could remember, to avoid any slip ups. So when you called out to her as you worked the room after your performance, she knew to answer.

“Skye, could you bring me some water?” Leaning on the bar you watched her make her own drink, flashing you a wink. She always got tipsy and ended up behind the bar when she was in a good mood. Which was most nights. The staff didn’t mind, the real money to be made was in liquor and whatever could be passed off as beer. So the extra pair of hands was appreciated.

“You’ve been especially happy lately. Good sex?” The glass was slid to you. All you could do was nod. You’d hadn’t actually had sex in awhile, but that wasn’t anyone’s business.

Your smile barely had a chance to slip off your face, your senses too quick for your body to keep up. The awareness that something was wrong hit you fast and hard, but only milliseconds before you felt someone grab you.

Brady’s hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you backwards, something slipping around your wrists as a uniformed cop came around the corner of the atrium. You struggled to get away from him, shouting general protests to being suddenly manhandled. Your voice erupted, the first cannon shot of the war as women and men began to swarm and berate the detective.

Barely a shocked laugh could be choked out from your tightening throat. 

“You’re under arrest!” He yelled it, looking at you for just a moment before announcing it to the audience. An actor to his crowd.

“For what?!” Johnny pushed Brady with two fingers to the chest. 

“Prostitution.”

A beat of silence as the room collectively gasped. Ruth was the first one to truly lay her hands on him, snatching his hat off and smacking him across the head. The other dancers moved like a school of fish, tucking Ruth into the safety of their numbers with a simultaneous jostling of the detective.

The cop leading you away stopped, “Just her? I thought-,”

Detective Brady dusted his hat off with the back of his hand and shooed the man away. “Just her.”

Before you had reached the glass doors of the theater, you tensed and pulled back. “What the fuck are you doing, Mr. Brady?”

But Brady wasn’t looking at you. He was scanning the room. Staring into the small but fierce roiling mass of regulars, dancers, and staff filling up the doorway in front him and flooding the atrium. 

Johnny sized up Brady, getting nose to nose with him, “Show your face here again and we’ll need an ambulance, not a wagon!”

Brady leaned into the confrontation, “Now sir I’d be careful. That almost sounds like a threat.”

“Sure as shit is!” Someone hissed. 

“Hey! Brady!” You tried again in vain to get his attention.

“Hush. You confessed to it already, no point crying now.” The cop’s voice was harsh, his disgust barely hidden. His palms were calloused and scratched at the exposed skin of your arms.

“Someone! Someone call-,” Ruth snapped her fingers as the syllables teetered on the tip of her tongue.

Goosebumps rose across your shoulders like little tombstones. Your autonomic nervous system came to a crawl. The grip on your arm tightened as you had to be wretched forward and out of the front doors.

Her eyes lit up, “Alastor! Does anyone have Alastor’s work number?!” Ruth was met with confused faces and shrugs from the others.

You didn’t feel yourself begin to cry, it was a reaction to the fact you hadn’t blinked since you became aware Brady didn’t seem too interested in your reaction to this.

This wasn’t an arrest. It was a trap.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

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[isolaradiale]

Alarms begin to settle, something eerily serene ebbing over the lab as each flickering screen fades into a welcoming, white glow.

"It seems Ofiuco managed to hold up her end of the job. Now for the final touches..." the woman muses, a few tap of the keys before one last press of the enter button, implementing the last strings of data to complete the solution. A few, pleasing chimes sound out at its finish, only the face of a happily dancing emoticon flashing to show their work was done and, at long last, NULL removed from the system alongside their countermeasures.

In turn, the city begins to feel its effects, washing over with what looks to the trained eye as a singular wave of pixels, cleansing it in a gentle reset that settles into the minds of those brought here. Memories assimilate, falling into place in their minds, before they return as if they it were that final piece they hadn't been able to place...

Leaning back, a cheek rests against her knuckles, glasses reflecting the results, much to her appeasement. "I suppose we should get the rest of this over with, then... I don't think we can really ghost them after all this," she mutters, having seemed to contemplate doing just that, until accepting that this was likely for the best. Reaching forward, another click of a key is pressed, relaying the signals down to those who have begun to regain all they had lost, now coming to face with those thoughts and feelings of their decision and, importantly, the weight of all that had happened.

Each screen blinks awake across the city, similar to their prior contact, allowing a voice to flow through each area flawlessly so that all can hear.

"Hello once more, citizens of Spirale. Oh, and don't fret this time, there isn't anymore bad news with this. Well, I suppose that would be based on what you define as such. But in the case of the ongoing situation? There's no more threat thanks to the help of our wonderful Ofiuco alongside our efforts," Pleiades begins, taking a beat to allow it all to sink in, that the current concerns are all but gone. "As you may have noticed, your memories have all been restored flawlessly. We have also implemented precautions so that your memories cannot be tampered like this again by the likes of NULL, or any other third party for that matter, so you can all rest more at ease. It's the least we could do with this oversight."

And without a misstep of words, the message carries on. "Many of your efforts helped expedite this, too. Of course, that can't be said for all of you, understandable as it is. For some, it may also be difficult to accept our decision to restore some of them... but in that case, I believe I said it best when I said to at least hate us for something we've done, no?"

A sigh is heard, the audio lines jolting across the screen, before she carries on.

"And before you ask why, a colleague said it best: 'even painful memories can cause us to grow. We wouldn't be here without ours.' That is to say... we truly wish to see you all overcome your trials, whether delivered by us, NULL, or your own hand," she finishes, her tone in earnest, as if trying to convey something to the citizens closer than some unseen, observant being.

"... Of course, you can believe what you want. It doesn't bother me."

"Pleaides, can you please一"

"Ugh. Fine."

Wheels of an office chair clatter against the ground over the speakers, accompanied with the sound of a small huff as arms cross.

"Just remember this one thing. The Galaxy will always be here to watch over you..."

Whether they find comfort or disdain in such a thought as the feed blips into a dark silence, well... surely, that would be for them to decide.

and with that, the isola event FRAGMEMORIA has come to a conclusion! we appreciate everyone's enthusiasm and all that they got around to doing with it in both parts. and as a further note, just in case others didn't see the faq ask, you DO NOT need to have both parts of the event to be considered participation for rank-ups! thank you once more for all your participation and we hope you all had a wonderful time!

[rishi-eel]

thinking (yet again!) about the differences between the bad batch story reels and the season seven arc and like... some changes just blow my mind because all it did, really, was make the bad batch less likable.  

lets star with the whole “reg” thing. if i remember correctly, in the originals “regs” is said twice. the first instance is by crosshair when taunting jesse in the LAAT. the second is said by hunter: he tells tech (who’s hacking into the cyber center) that he and wrecker are going to “go get the regs” (i.e. rex and jesse). that is, hunter only used it among his squad when the others were not present (much like how cody informs that the bad batch are defective clones out of earshot. these words are descriptors, but there’s also an offense associated to being referred to by them). the idea that hunter has restraint referring to regular clones this way in their faces connects, i think, to how hunter was a tad more apologetic to jesse in the original script. “he means regular clones. don’t take it personal. it’s just that we don’t always follow protocol” carried an actual sense of hunter trying to convince jesse that it’s nothing to do with him.   

it’s interesting, i think, that in a context where you have clones and defective clones, that the bad batch (as defective clones) would find a way to talk about other clones in reference to themselves in a way that normalizes their own existence. it also introduces the idea that the bad batch experience a level of disconnect, and even animosity, in regards to other clones. all that can be conveyed by only using the word twice. the season seven episodes added three more instances, and in all of them the bad batch members comfortably throw the word around the clones who “are regs.” the sense of separateness (which, again, was already established/achieved by using it just two times) is only made stronger (thus more needs to be done to portray a sense of reconciliation or coming together. the reels succeed this to an extent because that barrier wasn’t built up as high). 

so yeah in the original... wrecker didn’t say “we always get shot down when we travel with regs,” he kept quiet as he helped people out of the wrecked gunship (in fact, wrecker lost a lot of subtlety going from the reels to the final eps, which i’ll get back to). hunter didn’t fake-compliment rex with a “not bad, for a reg”! and oh boy crosshair’s comment implying that echo is worthless and expendable because he’s a “reg”... yeah that was not in the reels either. in fact, not only does crosshair not call echo a reg, the meaning of his original dialogue was completely different.

in the original, after hunter voices his suspicions echo might be dead, crosshair suggests that if alive echo could be cooperating with the enemy, making him a traitor. rex takes this as an attack on echo’s character and crosshair explains that no, he’s not intending to insult echo, by saying: “oh i don’t blame him, if i were left for dead, i wouldn’t be so loyal.” and like!!!!! that’s such a radically different line of dialogue because crosshair seems to blame rex for having left echo behind, actually. if you betrayed the republic to survive, or even out of spite, i don’t blame you even if you now present a threat to myself and my family, is such an interesting, empathetic sentiment. and that contrasts with the lack of regard given to rex, making it read like he’s condemning rex for leaving someone behind. crosshair doesn’t seem to understand, as an experimental commando clone, the pressures rex as a legion captain is under, because he’s seen a less expandable (they’re a specially trained four man team, if one dies that’s 25% of the unit gone. is there a replacement for that member? you get the idea). so you’ve got a clash between different povs, but also crosshair being shown as having a set of morals, chief among them being that you do not leave anyone behind. so remember when rex says to move out and crosshair goes “commander cody is in no position to move” yeah i’d say that’s crosshair making sure cody isn’t being left behind. when crosshair saves anakin? that’s because he saw anakin go off on his own and followed him. because you don’t leave people behind. and like... the idea that yeah crosshair is an asshole. he’s unpleasant and that’s deliberate. he doesn’t care if people like him and he’s not trying to be liked. but that he values the lives of other people and looks out for them? that makes an interesting, flawed and multifaceted character. that got lost in the dialogue change because its no longer suggested that crosshair holds these values.

as for what i said earlier about wrecker: he lost subtle, nonverbal moments through the addition of lines that are either anticlimactic or only serve to make him seem loud or ditzy in an exaggerated fashion. he didn’t laugh when the LAAT came down. he was quiet as he helped people out of the downed gunship (no comment about regs!). he didn’t say “boom” when the ship exploded in the background after he flipped it over (the difference? a character moment that’s actually cool and impressive vs something that’s corny). when wrecker comes to crosshair’s aid by picking rex off of him, there was no quippy one liner. there was no need for anything to be said for it to be understood that wrecker is acting as a barrier and it trying to intimidate rex. when he’s afraid to get onto the elevator? that’s conveyed visually through camera angles and through hunter picking up on the fact that he’s scared. he doesn’t scream (if you can call a comical “aah what is that thing oh no its going to get me” a scream) when the organic decimator almost gets him. when they walk across the pipe? wrecker doesn’t whimper or talk to himself for comfort. he is scared of heights, that’s already been established, but he’s also a grown man and a soldier like he’s keeping that to himself? like we see wrecker hesitating to walk on the ledge but doing it anyway because he has to. in a piece of dialogue that was cut, tech said “does anyone want to know the odds of us making it across alive?” to which wrecker (who’s you know already having a bad time) interrupts with “don’t even think about it, tech” (if ur curious, this exchange was replaced with: wrecker: “keep walking tech!” tech: “that’s fine, but if you fall don’t take me with you” which???? uuh weird exchange). also, the fact that wrecker was mostly dealing with his fear silently means that when hunter tells wrecker to hold on because they’re almost there... that’s because hunter knows he’s scared and is checking up on him. basically... any kind of serious moment was cheapened by having wrecker talk in them. now i don’t want to say that DBB is a bad voice actor, but his expertise is making animal noises. he’s not able to do a realistic, deep voice, meaning that whenever wrecker talks he kind of sounds like a joke. it’s fine when wrecker is actual being lighthearted and jokey, but otherwise? the emotion just does not come across as genuine, which breaks the stakes or weakens credibility.  

and god the whole plot point about the bad batch being suspicious of echo was nonexistent in the reels. the “don’t worry, echo says he’s got a plan”/”that makes me feel so much better” exchange between rex and tech is in the original, but tech’s sarcasm isn’t from doubting echo’s allegiance, it’s because they’re planning to land on admiral trench’s ship and echo having a plan (that he himself doesn’t know) doesn’t exactly soothe his anxieties. rex acts like tech’s being a big joker and playfully shoves him, telling him to get on board. which is an interesting interaction because these characters are kind of starting to bond?? as for tech and echo, they kinda become nerdy friends really quick. like when tech warns echo not to send the signal right away because he first needs to make it look like it’s coming from skako minor, echo’s like “oh yeah good thinking tech.” and when echo figures out a way to shut down all the droids at once tech is impressed and lightly shoves his shoulder. again there is none of that “oooh maybe echo’s a traitor maybe he’s with the techno union” shit. like i understand that the writers wanted to up the stakes but it falls flat because the idea of echo being a traitor isn’t credible. it does not seem like an actual risk or possibility. so all it did was make the bad batch seem like assholes, cutting away at some very nice character moments.   

ok this is a long post and you might ask yourself “but tumblr user rishi-eel, why do you care so much about the story reels, this stuff isn’t canon now” and there are a couple reasons, first, i think it managed to tell a better story overall. so the question is: why is that? because you would expect that writers reworking the plot would add improvements and not downgrades. and to be fair, the s7 episodes had a bunch of upgrades, but not when it came to the characterization of the bad batch. another thing to consider is that changes were made in the context of setting the bad batch up as future protagonists of their own spinoff series (something the original arc was not intended to do because there were no plans for a bad batch series). were the characters made flatter and more archetypal to add to marketability? was the reg/defective clone rivalry (and dichotomy, even) amplified because this separateness serves a narrative in which the bad batch are heroes and the other clones villains?  

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Y/N gets attacked and Chishiya is sure she will handle everything but when he sees her later there's blood everywhere, later he finds out that attackers actually cut her cheek really deepy and she will probably have a scar. He feels guilty and try to make it up by bringing something special (like cute pictures of cats bc he remembers when she quietly told Kuina that she loves cats) and from that day he is always trying to make sure that Y/N is doing fine. (2/2)

Of course! Here you go!

A Ginger Cat | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Characters(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, OC, Ann)

Summary: You get hurt during a game, but Chishiya thinks that you can handle it yourself. Later when he discovers that you were injured more worse than he thought, he brings you something to cheer you up

Warnings: swearing, blood

Word Count: 4.6k

*reader is female

The registration room had an eerie aura, you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop in there. Nothing was moving except the occasional piece of dust flying past in the breeze. You stood with your back to the wall, glaring up into the bright florescent light that had seemed to become an all too familiar ongoing theme of these homicidal games.

The wall was cold and rigid along your spine, but you put up with the small sharp pain. There was nowhere else to wait, besides on the disgustingly dirty floor. You had to gain as much rest and strength before beginning the game.

Kuina sighed heavily to the right of you, glancing at the game phone she had picked up a few minutes prior and rolling her head back against the wall in boredom. Chishiya stood next along from her, earbuds lodged in his ears and blasting loud music while he held his gaze strictly on the ground in front of him.

“Come on,” Kuina groaned, stretching her hands above her head. “When is this game starting? We’ve been here for a solid half an hour.”

She walked to the entrance of the registration room and peeked her head out the door. “I’m surprised no one else has come. Maybe it’ll be just us,” she suggested, turning back to you and Chishiya.

“That sounds great, until it’s a game of hearts,” you bluntly stated, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. Chishiya and Kuina both turned to you, sudden concern on their faces at your accusation.

The room fell quiet once more, until a familiar voice echoed through the room from all your phones simultaneously.

“Registration is now closed,” it spoke. “Game: Mice, Cats and A Dog.”

You frowned at the strange game name, having heard nothing like it before. You felt a feeling of relief wash over you as a five of clubs card conveyed itself on your screen. You were anxious you had accidentally manifested it to be a hearts game with your sly comment earlier.

“Rules: Players are the Cats. There are three live Mice to catch, each hiding in different areas around the building. Once found, the Mice must be killed using your own preference of weapon that is available on the table in the registration room.”

All three of you glanced towards the small table positioned next to the phone table that was scattered with small weapons that would hardly be enough to hurt a human. You had been wondering why they had offered such shitty weapons.

“Although, you must avoid the Dog’s gaze, for it will kill the Cats on sight.”

Your heart dropped at that last statement. You were to be hunted.

“You have an hour to kill all three Mice and return to the lobby with the bodies. If you fail to do so, all exits around the building will be closed and several more Dogs will be released and finish off the remaining players. You have ten minutes to position yourself in the building before the Dog is released.”

The list of rules on your phone screen shifted to a timer for ten minutes, already beginning to count down. You turned to Chishiya and Kuina.

“Any strategies?” Kuina asked, looking between you and Chishiya.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Split up. That seems like the most logical option. It will be quicker to find the Mice then,” you proposed, crossing your arms over your chest and scanning over the small map nearby that disclosed the layout of the deserted hotel the game was taking place in.

“But then the “Dog” will have more of a chance to find us if we split up,” Kuina argued. Kuina always focused on the safer route to ensure everyone’s survival rather than the easiest.

“No, it will be worse if we’re together, cause it can kill us all at once,” you retorted, walking over to the weapon table and starting to scan your options.

“I agree with Y/N,” Chishiya spoke up, pushing himself off the wall and strutting over to stand next to you and help pick a weapon. “I played a game very similar to this one. The best option is that we separate. Only then do we have a chance of finding the Mice in the time limit.”

Just as he said it, the phones all announced you had nine minutes left until the hunter began searching for you.

“One mouse each, and if you find yours early, keep searching so we can speed up time.”

You nodded at Chishiya’s command, snatching a small hammer and a pocket knife from the table for your weapons. You all walked out of the registration area (the front desk of the hotel) and into the empty lobby, watching as the hanging chandeliers glistening against the moonlight shining through from the obnoxiously big windows.

If anything could have gotten worse, you had to find tiny mice in a huge hotel in the complete darkness of night.

***************

You took to the upper bar.

The area in itself didn’t seem that big. But when you found it, you realised that it would be incredibly hard to find a single mouse in the cracks and small spaces between all the furniture. The eerie aura didn’t help much.

You sighed in frustration after searching underneath yet another couch. “What the fuck is this game? How the fuck am I supposed to find a rodent in a huge place like this?” you whispered angrily, flopping down on the couch dramatically.

It had been around forty-five minutes since the “Dog” had been released, but you have always been quite confident in your escaping and hiding strategies, so you weren’t too worried. The only thing you were concerned about was finding a mouse. Chishiya and Kuina had to have caught theirs by now.

A small scuttling noise cut you from your thoughts. You snapped your head towards the bar, where the sound was emitting from. A wave of excitement filled you, becoming hopeful that the noise was the mouse you were searching for.

You stood from the couch and quickly walked towards the bar, making sure not to make too much noise in case you alerted the rodent. The noise seemed to have come from behind some bottles beneath the counter. You crouched down on your knees and looked along the shelves, scanning for any sign of movement.

“Come on little mouse,” you taunted, becoming frustrated. When you noticed the flash of illuminated eyes staring holes into you through the glass of a tequila bottle, you quickly snatched the neck of the bottle and pulled it from the shelf, locking eyes with a desperate mouse with it’s back half stuck in a mouse trap.

The mouse shook violently against the trap, letting out small squeaks of pain and glaring at you with fear in it’s eyes. Although, it’s most noticeable feature was a large cross that almost seemed burned into it’s lower back. The cross had no fur or skin along it.

“This has to be one of them,” you reassured yourself, reaching to pull out the small pocket knife.

You picked up the mouse trap and hissed as the mouse managed to nip a part of your finger in defence. “Little shit,” you muttered, before pressing the point of your knife against the mouse’s back and pushing in harshly to kill it.

You hoped that you would just end it’s life and that would be that. But of course, the game had to throw in some sort of twist.

As you stabbed the small rodent, a impossibly loud screeching sound emitted from it’s tiny throat, making you drop the creature in shock and cover your ears.

The animal screeched and screeched, pain dripping from it’s cries that echoed across the room angrily. You began to panic, realising that there’s a chance the hunter could hear you. But maybe that was the point.

“Shut up!” you yelled over the mouse’s cries. You pulled the knife swiftly from the mouse’s fur and continued to repetitively penetrate it’s skin, mercilessly making it shut up while blood splattered across your angered face.

You breathed heavily once the room had fallen silent once again, staring down at the mutilated dead rodent. For a short moment, you felt bad for ending it’s life so unpeacefully.

Your head snapped up to look over the bar when sudden heavy footsteps made their way down the hall outside the bar. Your heart leapt to your throat and you turned to press your back against the bar, keeping your head down so whoever it was couldn’t see you.

You cringed as you picked up the remains of the mouse, holding it tight in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it. If Chishiya and Kuina had finished their halves, all you had to do was get to the lobby and you would be fine.

You placed your spare hand over your mouth to quieten your breathing, listening to the footsteps of the stranger who brought themselves into the room. The rapid movement of their feet made you anxious. You had never encountered a hunter that could run as fast as that.

You heard them flip a few tables over, hearing glasses smash against the walls aggressively. You closed your eyes tightly in realisation. The attacker was trying to make it harder for you to leave quietly if you were in there.

When the room fell quiet, you slowly peeked your head over the top of the bar. You managed to catch sight of the hunter themselves.

They seemed to have resembled the body of an older male, fit and tall. They had long, baggy pants, a black t-shirt while holding a machete that easily was as long as your arm. But most oddly, they wore a mask that conveyed a snarling German Shepherd.

The hunter was preoccupied over by the lounged area, looking behind the back rests of the couches and underneath coffee tables.

‘If I stay here any longer, they’re guaranteed to find me,’ you thought to yourself.

You decided you were going to attempt to leave. You had more of a chance of surviving by running than hiding.

You lifted your legs and trudged towards the edge of the bar, ducking underneath the table that was placed at the end before slowly rising to your feet. A quick glance down at your hand was enough to reassure you that you hadn’t dropped your ticket to a few more days of staying alive.

You kept your eyes locked on the hunter, making sure they didn’t turn their back as you were trying to leave. You thought you had almost made it before you miscalculated your step and tripped over a shattered glass on the ground, making you stumble forward and a loud noise erupt from the impact from your shoe to the glass.

As soon as you regained your balance, you didn’t even bother checking if the hunter had heard, you knew they did. You immediately took off running, holding your pocket knife in one hand in fear. You weren’t even halfway down the hall running towards the lobby before you heard the Dog’s footsteps behind you, trailing close and fast.

“Chishiya! Kuina!” You screamed out, picking up your pace and holding the body of the dead mouse close to your chest to make sure you didn’t drop it.

There was no way they were going to help you now, especially against someone like that. You were on your own for now, so you put faith in your own legs to carry you all the way down to the lobby.

Your heart was racing as you almost fell down the flights of stairs, so desperate to get away. At some point, you glanced upwards and saw your pursuer on the flight above you, making you feel sick.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, quickly scrambling down the darkened stairs. The blood of the mouse’s corpse seeped through your fingers as you held it in a tense fist, dripping down your arm grotesquely.

As you neared the ground level of the hauntingly big hotel, you stumbled as you jumped the few remaining steps and saw a sign that had an arrow labeled “Main Lobby” pointed to the left. You took in that direction, glancing behind you to see the “Dog” hot on your tail.

But unfortunately, you took too long to look at the sign. The “Dog” quickly caught up, grabbing an aggressive fistful of the back of your shirt and yanking you backwards towards them. You were too scared to scream. The air was forced from your lungs as you were pulled back, landing on the ground with the “Dog” suddenly standing over you, feet planted on either side of you.

Before you could even think, their machete plummeted down towards your face, making you flinch your head to the right, narrowly avoiding the blade. Although, the edge of the sharp metal managed to graze your cheek, creating a long gash along the side of your face.

The “Dog” continued to attempt to stab you in the face, stumbling above you as you attempted to kick their legs out from underneath them. In a sudden desperate attack, you kicked with all your might at their locked knees and they let out a yelp of pain as their knee buckled harshly backwards. You took the opportunity to run, not even giving them a second glance. You knew they’d already be back on their feet, after you again.

As you neared the humongous room that was labeled the lobby, you saw Chishiya and Kuina by the big doors that led inside. They seemed to have been banging their fists against an invisible force, separating you from them. The game must have locked them in when they placed their dead mice in the box that was located in the centre of the huge hall.

Their faces changed their hopeful expressions when they saw your pursuer, the blood running from their cheeks, making them pale. As soon as you entered the lobby, passing through the invisible force with ease, they followed behind you quickly.

“Hurry! Throw it in!” you heard Chishiya cry to you desperately behind you. You glanced back to see him slowing down, holding out his taser towards the “Dog” in case they managed to reach you. The electric light of his taser lit up significantly in the darkened room.

Once you reached the small white box placed on the table in the centre of the room, you shoved the disgusting remains of your victim inside, watching as it landed on top of two other mice.

Everything froze. The “Dog” immediately stopped running, dropping to their knees and face-planting onto the ground in front of Chishiya. All three of you stopped in shock, heavy breaths filling the air. Had you done it?

“Game Clear. Congratulations.”

The collar around the “Dog’s” neck exploded, blood splattering the walls and coating the gorgeously patterned carpet with it’s own artwork. You had seen it many times before. Once more couldn’t hurt.

“Took you long enough,” you heard Chishiya smartly remark. You glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow. He looked smug, as always. Not a single scratch on him.

“Give me a break, I had to face someone three times the size of me,” you remarked, rubbing your face tiredly. Your adrenaline had calmed, and now the pain of your deep gash on your cheek settled in. You hissed as your palm grazed it, pulling back and looking at your hand to see blood across it.

“Shit,” you rasped out, wiping your hand on the material of your pants.

“You okay Y/N?” Kuina questioned, walking over to you. You shook your head, dismissing her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a small gash. It’ll heal soon enough,” you reassured.

“Are you sure? That looks quite deep,” Chishiya commented, strutting over and using his hand to push your chin to the side so he could look more closely at it. The feeling of his hand placed so gently on your skin made your heart suddenly race, and you panicked and pulled your head away before he could even see your wound.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted, attempting to hide your embarrassment. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late, and I’m tired and hungry.”

***************

You stood in your bathroom, attempting to wash your clothes that you wore at the game earlier. You were soaking and scrubbing them in the bathtub. No matter how much blood seeped from the fabrics, it never seemed to be clean enough.

You grunted, annoyed and tired. Kuina said she was going to spend some time out nearby the pool with Arisu and talk to him about his game. Chishiya didn’t say where he was going, but you assumed it would be the roof or something away from everyone else.

A wet feeling along the side of your neck made you suddenly flinch and hit your skin, worried it was a weird bug of some sort. But your eyes widened when you brought your hand back and saw the concerning amount of blood spread across your palm.

You stood up from the side of the bathtub and leant against the sink, looking to the large mirror. “For fucks sake,” you sighed out as you caught sight of your large gash again. “This has been bleeding for hours. How do I make this stop?”

You winced as the moist towel you used earlier was once again dabbing along the skin of your face, collecting up the annoyingly large amount of blood percolating from your cheek. You were becoming afraid that it wasn’t going to stop at all, but you were too stubborn to go to Ann for medical help.

You’ve seen her weird dissection obsession, so you felt uneasy putting the trust of your health into her hands.

The blood dripped quicker the more you attempted to clean it up. Soon, there were miniature blood puddles scattered around the sink as you kept trying to clean them.

*********** “Hey Usagi, have you seen Y/N?”

Chishiya was making his way around The Beach searching for you. He usually liked spending his late nights having a drink with you in a quiet corner of the ground floor pool. Although, he hadn’t been able to find you and he was getting worried. You usually were either down in the lobby or with Kuina after games.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry Chishiya.”

He huffed annoyed, thanking Usagi and walking away from the dance floor. He thought he should check in your room as a last resort, but if you weren’t there, that’s when he would really worry.

He slowly made his way up the multiple flights of stairs, passing by a few people on the way. During the walk, he zoned out in his own thoughts, his mind filing with you.

How would he ever tell you how he felt? He believed you only saw him as a friend, an annoying one at that. Especially since you happen to banter a lot with him. The thought made him smile, he loved that you didn’t take his bullshit seriously and treated it like a game.

‘How do I let her know that I truly do care for her?’ he asked himself, fiddling with the drawstrings of his white hoodie as he strolled down the brightly lit hall. He hadn’t ever been the best with emotions, so how could he show that he was genuine about his romantic feelings towards you?

When Chishiya reached your room, he lifted his fist to knock on the rotting wood, freezing suddenly. Why was he hesitating? He’s done this so many times before, why was he suddenly nervous? He shook his head, embarrassed for catching himself in these thoughts. He had worked himself up again.

He knocked on your door loudly three times before calling out to you. “Y/N? You in there?” The silence that followed his call made him anxious. He knocked again, this time more persistently.

“Coming!” he heard your muffled voice call through the door. He stood back from the door as you opened it, giving you a small smile. But it soon disappeared from your face when he locked eyes with the bloody tissue that you held to your cheek.

“Hey Chish,” you groaned out, lazy eyed and turning back into your room, leaving the door so he could come in. Chishiya rushed to you quickly. “Wait, Y/N. What’s going on? Why are you hurt?” he asked frantically, pulling on your shoulder to get you to look at him.

You brushed his hand off of you. “It’s fine. Just a small gash from the game earlier. It started bleeding again,” you said, giving him a stare.

Chishiya shook his head and cupped your face, avoiding your cut, to have a closer look. “No Y/N, that doesn’t look okay. It’s bleeding way too much.”

You stayed still as he replaced your hand holding the tissue on your face with his own, being as gentle as he could as he cleaned the blood gathering around the gash.

“Here, sit down on the bed,” he muttered, indicating towards the end of your bed. You both shuffled over and sat down, Chishiya still holding the tissue on your face.

You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he examined your wound. His dark eyes glistened in the dim light of your hotel room. He looked ethereal. But he took a quick glance towards your eyes, snapping you from your daze. You hissed as he caught a bit of the gash on the tissue. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand to your chin to readjust your position.

He then sat up and walked towards the bathroom, walking quickly so the blood of your injury didn’t drip too much. As he was there, you heard a soft gasp. He probably had found the blood-covered sink and towels.

He returned back with a clean towel that he found in your bathroom cabinet. He held a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this? If I knew it was this bad, I would’ve helped you out.”

You shrugged your shoulders. To be honest, you weren’t too sure why you didn’t tell Chishiya or Kuina. It just didn’t seem that big of a deal.

“You’ll need some stitches,” he concluded, holding a clean towel underneath your cut. “Also, stop using tissues to clean the blood. They flake easily and can stick to your injury.”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You wish Chishiya didn’t find you like this. You hated making anyone else worry about you when it wasn’t entirely necessary.

“Look at me,” he demanded, bringing your head up with a gentle hand on your neck. Your breath got caught in your throat as he wiped around your cheek, cleaning up any excess blood.

“Come on. Let’s get you to Ann,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for you.

You took his hand and he pulled you up playfully, making you almost stumble into him. You glared at him. “Wow. Even when I’m injured you’re still a bully,” you teased. Chishiya smirked and winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

And yet, the whole way to Ann’s medical room, you didn’t let go of his hand.

***************

You woke as the sun hit your eyelids, illuminating your room with bright rays of light. The sun was strangely gorgeous that morning, so you woke up in a good mood.

You sat up and stretched, letting out a large groan as your bones popped in your back. Although a wince made its way onto your face as you yawned, making the skin of your treated gash stretch.

Chishiya had told Ann to place a protected medical patch on your cut, since he thought it would be better than just leaving it in case of it getting infected or worse during your next game. So for the time being, you had a flat piece of cotton taped on your face. Ann said to only leave it on until it had certainly stopped bleeding through, as well as to change it around two or three times a day.

When your eyes finally adjusted to your surroundings, your sight landed on a strange scene in front of you.

At the table on the end of your bed, there was a small plushie of a ginger kitten. The makeshift fur on the stuffed toy was slightly dirty and it was missing a bead for an eye, but it still remained strangely comforting.

You crawled to the end of your bed and reached out to grab the plushie, bringing it close to you and looking over it for anything. Who knows? Someone could have put it in your room as a trap.

But it was proven safe when you noticed the small, neat writing on the end of the kitten’s tail, which read ‘Chish’.

You chuckled at the childish toy, realising Chishiya must have snuck it into your room while you were asleep.

“Idiot,” you laughed, “Can’t tell me he likes me as his friend but he can put enough effort into finding a stuffed cat in the Borderland for me.”

It felt special, because you knew Chishiya would have had to go into deserted Tokyo to find such a gift for you. You looked on the table and saw a small piece of paper. You frowned and reached out for it and opened it.

‘Here’s a stupid plushie for your troubles. Kuina said you liked cats so I thought you’d feel better with this xx’

You laughed at his half-hearted message. Chishiya never was that good with words, but he didn’t have to be in order for you to understand how he felt towards you.

Although the plushie was a bit beaten and battered, it still brought such a sense of home to you.

***************

You sat in the lobby, watching everyone scuttle around. Your usual drunken party group passed through every now and then, which was always good entertainment.

You jumped as you felt a pair of hands suddenly grip onto your shoulders, quickly moving to your eyes and covering them.

“Guess who?” the stranger asked cheekily, making you relax when you recognised their familiar, cocky voice.

“Get your hands off me Chishiya,” you giggled, pulling on his hands and turning around so you would face him. His face held a big smile across it, which was so unlike his usual neutral expression.

“What’s got you so happy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. Chishiya pulled away from your face and jumped over the back of the couch so he was then sitting beside you.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to see you,” he admitted, laying his head on your shoulder comfortably. His boldness was rather prominent then more than you had ever seen.

“How’s your cut?” he asked, looking up to examine the patch on your cheek. You shrugged it off. “It’s fine, not too bad now.”

Chishiya smiled, and suddenly leaned forward and left a lingering kiss on your good cheek, making your eyes widen at his action. “That’s good,” he gushed and continued on like he didn’t do anything.

“Yeah. Um...” you muttered awkwardly while rubbing the spot on your face where he kissed. “I wanted to say... thanks for the gift earlier,” you said, placing an arm around his shoulder comfortably.

Chishiya beamed happily, but tried to hide his blush by turning away from you. “No problem,” he mumbled out, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

You laughed at his response. Chishiya may have not been that good with words, but he didn’t need to be for you to notice that he really loved you.

[marjansmarwani]

maybe, I’m afraid 

3.8k || ao3

Episode 2x06, but with Carlos (as it should have been)

Just me here again to give Carlos the screen time he should have had. 

A little late to the party maybe (I have no idea how you all manage to get fics up within 24 hours of the episode, I am in awe of that ability) but I still felt the need to make my contribution.

--------

Most days Carlos was pretty sure that after 7 years on the force he had seen everything there was to see. 

Other days he got a call to respond to two teenagers trapped in a homemade minefield and he was forced to reevaluate that sentiment. 

It doesn’t take long to figure out all there is to know, including just how bad it really is, and by the time the familiar ladder truck pulled up (because of course it was the 126) he was waiting outside the passenger door to give Owen the rundown. 

“Officer Reyes,” he greeted when he saw him, “I’m surprised to see you. I thought this would be a little out of your jurisdiction.” 

Carlos shook his head, “Just barely within it, another half-mile and the sheriffs would be handling the call.”

“But you managed to snag it, lucky you.”

“Can’t say I would have been too upset if I had missed out on this one,” Carlos agreed drily. 

Owen hummed in agreement as he surveyed the scene, “What are we looking at, exactly?”  

It was a bleak picture: two brothers, trapped. One injured, both scared and stuck in an active minefield without a map. And the bomb squad was at least 40 minutes out. He saw his concern reflected on Owen’s face as he considered the situation and all the implications. If they waited, the boy would die. If they went in, he would be possibly sending some of his people to die too. 

And yet Carlos knew what choice he was going to make before he even opened his mouth. He had learned so many things during his time with TK, and one of them was that in so many ways he and his dad were a lot alike. If it were his call, TK wouldn’t have been able to leave those boys in there either. So when the instruction came, he wasn’t surprised. 

“We’re going to need the heaviest duffel we can find and spray paint - the brighter the better.”

Carlos locked eyes with TK briefly as he and the rest of his team turned to start gathering supplies, giving him a smile and hoping that it conveyed everything he wanted him to know: it would be alright, no matter what. 

He almost believed it too. 

All was calm at the start, the 126 functioning like the well-oiled machine they were. In no time they were prepped and Owen was striding back towards the ambulance, asking the new guy if he was ready to go. The discussion quickly transformed into an argument and Carlos couldn’t help but glance back over at the minefield and the brothers. Every moment they argued was one less moment these boys had. Carlos was considering stepping in when a new voice entered the discussion, effectively bringing the escalating argument to a halt. 

“I’ll go.” 

And Carlos froze because he knew that voice. He would know it anywhere, it drew him like a moth to a flame in any room. He turned slowly to find TK standing slightly apart from his crew, stance relaxed but jaw set in determination. 

“I was a dual function FD medic in New York,” he explained, voice calm and firm, “all my certifications are up to date. I can do this.” 

Carlos didn’t need to be looking at him, didn’t need to see where his gaze shifted to know that those last words were directed at his dad. The knowledge made Carlos’s heart ache. The fact that his boyfriend still felt the need to prove himself to his dad after all this time and all he had accomplished killed him, but the thought of TK willingly walking into the minefield killed him even more. 

But it wasn’t his choice to make and when Owen nodded, he felt a cold dread spread throughout his body. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. Today was not supposed to be the day he watched his boyfriend walk into an active minefield. That day was never supposed to come, and yet here it was. 

He walked over to where TK was switching out his gear, struggling with a strap that was twisting over his shoulder. He reached out for the strap without a word, smoothing it out and snapping it in place. They didn’t speak as Carlos stepped back, surveying the harness and gear for any other twists or issues. 

“It’s going to be fine, Carlos.” 

TK’s voice, soft and reassuring, broke the silence and Carlos met his eyes sharply. He wanted so desperately to believe him, but there was a field filled with explosives that had already claimed one life today behind them and he was finding it hard to be optimistic. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked instead. 

TK pulled his helmet on, his steady gaze never leaving Carlos, “Of course I’m sure, the kid’s going to die if we don’t go out there, Carlos. I need to help if I can.” 

Carlos reached down to grab his medical bag and held it out to him. He didn’t like the thought of the man he loved purposefully putting himself in harm’s way, but he also knew TK. As much as he might hate it sometimes, this was TK: always ready to help, always willing to put himself at risk if it meant saving someone else, and there was nothing Carlos could do to change that. And he wouldn’t want to - it was a part of TK that made him who he was: someone that Carlos loved with all his heart. 

When TK reached out to take the bag from him, he didn’t release it immediately. He let his grip linger for an extra moment as he studied TK, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Just, be careful,” he told him softly. TK gave him a small smile, and Carlos released his grip on the bag, allowing TK to walk away, towards the minefield. He was still watching as he ascended the ladder that would drop him out onto the minefield when he felt the presence of others appearing at his side. 

“He’ll be okay kid,” Judd said quietly, eyes never leaving the sight of the two Strands climbing to the end of the ladder. 

“You don’t know that Judd,” Carlos responded just as quietly, already feeling his fingernails digging into his palm as he clenched his hands at his side. 

“No,” the older man agreed softly, “I don’t. But I do know they’ll be as careful as they can.” 

Carlos nodded, eyes tracking every movement desperately. They had reached the edge of the ladder now and he watched as Owen tossed down the duffel, as they both reeled back in preparation for an explosion. He could feel his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat as they waited, but there was only silence and after a moment, he allowed himself to breathe again. 

“I don’t know if my heart can take this,” Paul lamented from his left, “that was nerve-wracking and they still have a long way to go.” 

Carlos nodded wearily, but caught his retort before it slipped out of his mouth: if they made it that far. He didn’t need to release that idea into the universe and the others didn’t need to hear it. So he swallowed it and continued watching. Each and every movement they made was agonizing to watch, but each and every thud of them landing unharmed gave him a moment to catch his breath, a brief reprieve for his heart to beat normally. They had settled into a rhythm, and everything was going smoothly. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The sound of the mine exploding filled the air around them and worked its way into Carlos’s soul. It sent shockwaves through his body as he watched, desperately trying to see through the haze of smoke and debris. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know if he was okay. 

That fact was more than enough to bring on the fear. It attacked him with a vengeance, freezing him to the spot. He felt as if the whole world froze in that moment; suspending him in the terror of not knowing, trapping him with doubt and fear. 

And then he heard TK’s voice, and he could breathe again. It might just be the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. 

When Owen’s voice sounded across the radios, confirming that they were both in one piece, time picked back up at its usual pace. He felt himself sag in relief, grateful for the knowing and supportive hand on his shoulder from Judd. He spared a glance at the others, seeing his relief reflected on their faces and in their stances. 

Marjan let out a long breath, “That was…” 

“Intense,” Paul agreed grimly, “let’s never do that again.” 

They all nodded, and Carlos couldn’t agree more. 

If there was an upside to that moment it was that the path forward was now clear and the two Strands made quick work of the rest of the journey, closing the distance between them and the boys in seconds. Carlos watched in awe as TK slipped into medic mode the moment he reached the boys’ sides, calmly managing the scene and taking care of the patient. It was a wonder to watch. He handled it all with focus and compassion, quietly reassuring the boys even as he gave instructions to his dad and administered care. He was cool and steady even as he delivered the lifesaving compressions, forcing the teen’s blood to pump through his veins with his own hands. It was only minutes before his voice sounded over the radio, announcing that the injured boy was stable and no amount of fear or worry could have stopped the intense pride Carlos felt in that moment. 

“Kid’s got some skills,” Judd observed with a fond smile and Carlos could only grin. 

Paul nodded, “Looks like someone’s been holding out on us, that was pretty impressive I must admit.” 

“Badass is more like it!” Mateo exclaimed and Marjan, standing next to him, laughed even as she placed a hand on his arm. 

“Steady Probie,” she reminded him, “they still have to get out of there. Let’s not jinx anything.”

Her words tempered the celebratory mood of the group, but even though Carlos had never let go of that fear (he knew he wouldn’t until TK was out of the minefield and at least 2 miles away) it felt different from before. It was wrapped in that pride now, and even as Carlos watched them prep to move and the bomb squad moved out to locate and detonate any mines along the path, he couldn’t shake that. It was almost stronger than the fear now, this pride he felt for TK. That was his boyfriend; the person who had just saved two young brothers in the middle of a minefield was the man he loved. Just when he thought that he had come to know every bit of his body and soul, he managed to surprise him all over again. 

It took every ounce of restraint and professionalism Carlos had to not rush over to TK the moment he cleared the edge of the minefield. He forced himself to wait, focusing on his own job while keeping a watchful eye on TK as he reported back to Captain Vega, as he got an exam from the new paramedic. It wasn’t until he headed back to the ladder truck that Carlos broke away from the crowd, meeting him at the side of the engine. TK looked up as he approached, a smile on his face and a greeting on his lips, but Carlos pulled him into his arms before he even had a chance to speak. 

He held him tightly, savoring the feeling of his breath on his collar and the faint sound of the beating of his heart. His familiar scent filled Carlos’s head with each breath and he closed his eyes. He would have been happy to stand there forever, feeling this and just being them and while he knew they couldn’t, he was determined to have at least a few moments more before the world interrupted. If nothing else, the universe at least owed him this. 

“I’m okay Carlos,” TK said evenly, his voice muffled against Carlos’s shoulder. 

But you almost weren’t. The words rang through his head, but he didn’t speak them. Instead he pulled away just enough to see TK’s face as he asked, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” TK assured him firmly, placing a steady hand on his chest, “the new medic looked me over but I could have told you anyway, I’m fine. Not injured, my dad and I both made it out and so did the boys. This was a win Carlos, I’m more than okay.” 

And he was, Carlos saw as he studied him. He was beaming; enthusiasm pouring out of him. His eyes were alight with something Carlos couldn’t name and he was practically vibrating. Despite everything, Carlos couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was still worried, still terrified by all the ‘what ifs,” but seeing TK like this gave him a lightness he couldn’t have imagined feeling even a few minutes before. 

He shook his head, trying to mask his smile with little success, “I am glad you’re so pleased with yourself, considering you almost gave the rest of us a heart attack.” 

He had been going for a joke but he instantly regretted it when TK dimmed, “I’m sorry,” he told him sincerely, “I didn’t mean to scare you guys, especially you. I just knew I could help…” 

Carlos interrupted him, moving his hands so they were on each of TK’s shoulders, “You have nothing to apologize for Ty,” he assured him firmly, “you did the right thing. You saved a kid’s life and you did amazing. I am so proud of you.” 

TK’s smile returned, softer than before but still glowing with pride, “You are, are you?” 

Carlos leaned down to place a soft and tender kiss on his forehead, “I am. So incredibly proud. You’re a pretty impressive guy, you know that?”

TK’s smile could have lit up the world and Carlos would have been happy to let it. But they were both still on the job and decidedly not alone, as they were suddenly reminded when Paul peaked around the side of the engine. He smirked at them before calling over his shoulder, “Yeah, they’re decent back here, you guys can come around.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes at his friend while TK casually flipped him off. Paul crossed towards them, completely unfazed before reaching out and pulling TK into a hug of his own. “You can’t keep scaring me like that man,” he told TK when they pulled apart, “I’m getting too old for that crap.” 

TK rolled his eyes at his teammate and Carlos chuckled. He looked behind him to see the rest of the team materializing. 

“That’s my cue,” he told TK, “I need to get back to work and get this scene wrapped up anyways. I’ll see you at home later?” 

TK nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand, “I’ll be there right after my shift.” 

“Think you can make it until then without nearly dying on me again?” 

“I’ll do my best,” TK assured him and Carlos smiled. 

“That’s all I ask,” he responded, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, Carlos.” 

Carlos smiled at that, the warmth he felt every time he heard those words from TK rushing through him. With one last squeeze of the hand holding his own, he stepped away, letting TK’s team get in their time. As he reached the corner of the engine he looked back, still feeling the whirlwind of emotions deep in his chest. 

But TK was safe and happy - he couldn’t ask for anything more. So he turned the corner and returned to the task at hand. 

----------

“You know, that call today? It felt good, really good.” 

Carlos looked up from his dinner sharply to see TK idly playing with his, his focus clearly elsewhere. “Please don’t tell me this means you have decided to become a real-life minesweeper, I am going to have some objections to that,” Carlos deadpanned. 

TK laughed lightly, shaking his head, “No, not quite.” 

“Thank god, I don’t think my heart could handle that.” 

TK shook his head fondly at Carlos before his expression grew more pensive, “I didn’t mean the minefield, or even the danger or adrenaline. I meant the saving the boy part. I know I do that all the time as a firefighter, but there’s something different about doing it as a medic. I haven’t had the chance to really do any medical calls since moving to Austin, with the way the department is structured.” 

“You’ve never really talked about it before,” Carlos noted, “I’ve seen you do medical stuff in the field, but before today I didn’t even know you were dual certified.” 

TK shrugged, “It just never really came up, I guess. It’s pretty typical in New York, but their firehouses are structured differently. I guess once I made my peace with being down here I never really thought about it again. It’s not like I could do both the same way I used to.” 

His tone was almost wistful as he turned his gaze down to his plate, but Carlos had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing the food on it. “Sounds like you miss it,” he ventured after a few more moments of silence. 

“Sometimes I do.” 

“So why not go for it?” 

TK looked at him sharply, but Carlos just shrugged, “What? You’ve spent most of the past hour talking about it and you mentioned how the new guy quit and there’s an opening on the paramedic team within your first 10 minutes of showing up tonight. I know you and I know you’re already thinking about it, so why not try it?” 

“Even if I applied, there are so many other candidates. There’s no saying she’d pick me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. She knows you and how dedicated you are to your job. She saw you in action today, willing to take the risk that someone else wasn’t in order to save a patient. You did the job well and you did it under insane pressure after months of not doing it. If I were her, I’d be wondering what you’d be capable of on an average day.”  

TK looked startled at the efficient takedown of his doubts, but Carlos just raised an eyebrow, “Next?” 

He would dismantle his boyfriend’s doubts with logic one by one if need be. Whatever it took for him to start believing in himself the way Carlos did. 

“I’d have to leave the team,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t be working with them anymore. We’re like a family, I can’t just leave them.” 

Carlos reached across the table to take TK’s hand in his own, “It’s not like you’d be leaving the station,” he reminded him, “you’d still be in the same building and on the same schedule. And they’re not going to feel like you abandoned them, Ty, they’ll still be right there. And right here,” he added with a laugh, gesturing towards his living room, “we’ve fed them, I don’t think we are ever going to get rid of them now.” 

That pulled a smile out of TK, but there was still so much doubt in his eyes that it hurt Carlos to see it. 

“What do you think they would say, if you told them it was something you wanted?” he asked instead, “Do you think they would tell you to forget about it? To stay with them because it was more comfortable?” 

“No,” TK said quickly, “of course they wouldn’t.” 

“So why are you worried about them? They want what’s best for you and they always will. Unless,” he hedged when TK’s expression didn’t clear, “they’re not the ones you’re worried about.” TK pulled his gaze up from the table and Carlos saw all the confirmation in them that he needed, “Your dad?” 

TK nodded, and Carlos sighed. “TK…”

“It would be a big change Carlos,” he said softly. “Except for my probationary period, I have always worked with my dad. I don’t want him to take it personally.” 

“But it is a little personal, isn’t it?” 

He was careful to keep his tone even, non-judgemental and he watched TK closely, waiting for his response. 

“Maybe a little, yeah,” TK admitted. “I feel like this would be a way for me to really see who I am without him right there. It’s not like this is a reaction to him or any news he may have shared recently,” he added hastily, “I would hope I’m past the ‘blowing my life up to piss off my dad’ point, but it is something to consider. And…” 

He trailed off, but Carlos had a feeling he knew what was going to come next, “And you’re worried he might take it personally?” he suggested. 

TK nodded and Carlos sighed and set down his fork, reaching across the table again to pull both of TK’s hands into his own, “Look,” he began, “what’s important is why you’re thinking about this. So, what is it? Why are you thinking about becoming a paramedic?” 

“Because I think I’d love it,” TK said without any hesitation, “because I feel like it’s the best way I can help people.” 

Carlos smiled at him, squeezing the hands in his grasp softly, “Then I think you have your answer. You should do this because it is what you want and because it is right for you. That’s all that matters. Everything else - and everyone else - will fall into place.” 

“And if they don’t?” TK asked softly, and Carlos felt a pang in his heart at the sound of so much doubt in the other man’s voice. 

“They will,” Carlos assured him. “Nothing ever stays the same, remember? And your dad knows that. We all know that. And,” he added, leaning forward in his seat to close some of the distance between them, “I will be here for you, every step of the way. No matter what.”  

The smile TK gave him warmed every inch of his body. They sat in companionable silence for a while, intertwined hands connecting them across the table until TK spoke again. 

“If you really mean that,” he began with a grin, “I could probably use some help with my resume.” 

“Anything for you,” Carlos quipped back, but even as he said the words he squeezed their clasped hands. He meant that, in every way possible. He would be here for resumes and job interviews and everything in between, as long as TK wanted him to be. 

Judging by the way TK met his eyes, and the soft ‘thank you’ that fell from his lips, he had a feeling he felt the same way too. 

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?

I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: You're Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rung

·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.

·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.

·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.

·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.

·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.

·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.

·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...

·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.

·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.

·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.

·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?

·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.

·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.

·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.

·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...

[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

[nanasparadise]

“Dream Invader” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader (Soulmate AU)

Hello everyone! I hope you are doing fine. I don’t know if you have read my previous post, that talks about a dream I had, but I decided to turn some elements of it into this piece of writing. This fanfiction is set in the soulmate universe. I really hope you enjoy it, because I decided to write this instead of studying for my French essay I have tomorrow (please wish me luck, God knows I need it) :D. And for the requests: I haven’t forgotten you, please remain patient. T-T I’ll write my last test on Thursday, after that I have holidays, so I’ll definitely catch up on them!! Thank you for sticking around. <3

Summary: Your soulmate keeps visiting you in your dreams, but you don’t feel comfortable around them…

TW: noncon touching, toxic relationship, angst, reader gets hurt physically, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

 I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

 Word count: 2626

It had happened yet again. You had dreamt again of this man, one of many countless dreams. Breathing heavily, you abruptly opened your eyes and wiped away the sweat that was accumulating on your forehead with the back of your hand. “Does that really mean…?”, you mumbled softly. Most people would be happy to find out they had a soulmate and finally had met them. But most people’s match certainly wasn’t someone, who conveyed a deep obsession and possessiveness towards their beloved. Still mentally in your dream, your body started to tremble slightly. What were you going to do now? At first, you had brushed off the dreams, convincing yourself that they didn’t mean anything. But you knew the gist of it. You knew that when a certain person kept infiltrating your dreams, that they were your soulmate.

Sighing deeply, you turned around in your bed, your left cheek resting on the soft pillow. The clock on your bedside table revealed that it was 4:30 a.m. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep again, but it was still too early to wake up for work. So you remained there in the quiet, your shallow breaths being the only sound in the dark room. Despite your efforts, your racing thoughts kept returning to your dream. “Who is this man?”, you whispered as you looked down on your fingers, which seemed to still hurt.

 Every time he had shown up, he had never revealed his name to you, wanting to keep it to himself. “I‘ll tell it to you once we see us in real life, amore”, he had told you, a certain spark igniting his admittedly gorgeous yellow and purple eyes. Truth be told, your soulmate was nothing short of beautiful. Long white hair with a purple hue graced his stoic face. His athletic body was adorned with a dark bodysuit, accentuating his muscles. All in all, he reminded you of a vengeful Greek god, breathtaking but dangerous. Dangerous… You began to feel threatened by the presence of your mysterious dream visiter. Since he had never offered you his name, you hadn’t given him yours either, sensing there might be something off about him.

 Still, he had found it out. This night in your dream, you two had been on the flower field you had met for the first time. You had felt dizzy, as if your head had been caught in the clouds. This light atmosphere had convinced you that this had been truly a dream, since a sense of haziness always accompanied your nocturnal adventures. The summer sun had been setting, turning the sky into a colourful spectacle of orange and pink. This would have been a picturesque and maybe even romantic moment if it hadn’t been for the feeling of dread building in your stomach. A small smile had formed on his purple lips when he had perceived your form. Quietly, nearly inaudibly, the stranger had murmured your name into the warm summer breeze: “Y/N.” Immediately, goosebumps had formed on your arms. 

“How do you know my name?”, you had replied, visibly shaken. Had he somehow managed to get some information on you? 

“It’s such a fitting name”, he had mused contemplatively, ignoring your question. “Y/N…” His unique eyes had been fixed on you the whole time, analysing every detail of your face. Fear had started to take over your body. The slight shivers had transformed into noticeable trembling. Your breath had shortened as you had desperately searched for a way to get out of that dream. 

„Why are you doing this?”, you had shouted out, panic manifesting in your voice. “Why do you keep entering my dreams, just to behave like a creep? How should I trust you when you don’t even tell me anything about yourself, yet you somehow know my personal information?” The man in front of you had sighed at your outburst. Sparks of sympathy had danced in his eyes, making them appear even brighter. Slowly, he had reached for your hands, holding them in his larger ones. You had tried to pull off from his grasp, but your fighting had been futile against his stronger form. So you had been forced to remain there, listening to the dream man’s words. 

“I know this is confusing for you,” he had said while rubbing circles on the back of your hands with his thumbs, “but I can’t give you any information yet, my job makes it hard. I need to see you in real life and I promise, I’ll tell you everything then.” Tears had pricked in your eyes, clouding your vision. Why had he assumed you two would meet? The thought of the stranger knowing your address had turned your initial dread into hot anger. No matter if he was your soulmate, you were still your own, independent person! He couldn’t just stalk you, talk to you as if you were a couple and leave you in the dark about his own identity. The dream man still had held your hands, expecting some kind of reaction from you. 

“No”, you had simply answered, refusing to meet his intense gaze. 

“No what?”, he had replied, impatience swinging in his voice. He had been in your dreams endless times, reassuring you of his love and loyalty for you. Why hadn’t you been reciprocating his feelings? He was your soulmate after all! 

“No,” you had repeated while your eyebrows had furrowed, illustrating your resistance,”we’re not going to see each other.” The grip on your hands had suddenly become stronger and hurtful, nearly crushing your fingers. For a second time, you had tried to take away your hands from him but without success. The stranger’s orbs had fixated you, darkness swirling in the iris of the same colour as the flowers on the field. Terror had made itself visible again in your body and mind, amplified by the man’s sombre look on his handsome face. Yes, he looked just like a statue of Ares, so enchanting and yet so enraged. And dangerous… 

“So you don’t want to meet your soulmate?”, he had stated calmy, which only had increased your anxiety. 

“Please, let go, you’re hurting me”, you had pleaded despairingly. The man had squeezed harshly one last time your hands before he had eventually released them. Protectively, you had cradled them against your chest, trying to soothe the pain by softly rubbing your fingers. “What kind of person would do this to their soulmate?” you had thought in disgust and fear. Hesitantly, you had looked up to him, his face remaining a stoic façade. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Y/N”, the dream man had said coolly. The fact that he had addressed you with your name again had put you in a state of fear once more. Nevertheless,  you had gathered all your courage to reply to him. 

“No, I don’t. Someone who hurts and stalks me can’t be my soulmate, no matter if they enter my dreams. And even if you are, I still don’t want to be with you. Please, I’m begging you to respect and accept that.” 

The Italian – you had guessed that this was probably his nationality since he called you Italian pet names –  man’s gaze had immediately softened at your words. He had known he’d got carried away with his rage. Of course, your words had pained him more than any weapons ever could, but he had to be patient with you. He could only imagine how he had come across to you, especially now that he had hurt you. No, he couldn’t pain a loved one again, not you… 

“I’m sorry, cuore mio,” he had said remorsefully, regret manifesting itself, “I really shouldn‘t have hurt you. I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to see you, really see you, and hold you in my arms. I know, I might not be the best man to have existed.” His face had abruptly twisted into a pained grimace. This had been the first time he had ever been that sincere to you. Your feelings had begun to transform into a mix of sympathy, fear and confusion. He had really appeared to feel bad about his actions, maybe he had lived through a trauma to react that way? Your pondering had quickly come to a halt. No, you really couldn’t start to show empathy for the man. After all, he had stalked you, hurt you, crossed too many lines. Nonetheless, your dream invader had kept up with his speech. “I don’t know if I deserve your love, but I really want to believe in it. You are my soulmate and I am yours, we can make it work out if we try. Please, give me a chance and I will do everything in my power to show you I am worthy of you. Just don’t reject me already.” He had paused for a moment, a slight tremble in his voice making itself visible. You had stared at him with big eyes, not knowing what to do or how to feel about this situation. “I’ll be truthful with you. I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.” The man had tried to grasp your hands again but had immediately stopped when he had seen, how you had flinched away. His lips had formed into a thin, bitter line while seeing your reaction. Was he a monster? “I see that my words don’t seem to get through you” he said stoically. “I’ll show you what I mean, that might help. We’ll be seeing each other soon enough.” His last sentence had sent you a cold shiver down your spine. You had had the feeling that he hadn’t referred to another dream… An expression of horror had slowly crept on your face.

“What do you mean?”, you had blurted out loudly, “you mean in our dreams, right? You don’t know where I live, do you?” But the stranger had cruelly decided to stay silent, staring at you ominously instead. Suddenly, the light atmosphere around you had changed. Heaviness had taken over you, the scenic landscape had turned black as you had woken up.

 You took another look at your clock. 5:15 a.m. Did you really spend so much time recalling that dream? Deciding that you already wasted too many thoughts on that man, you stood up from your bed and took a shower, even if it still was early. “Some distraction will do me good”, you sighed, exhaustion manifesting in your voice. Your dreams involving the stranger were always so vivid that the next morning you woke up completely tired and drained. As you entered the shower and felt the warm water hitting your skin, you finally managed to relax a little, even if that tiny voice of fear kept reminding you of the dream man’s words…

 Weeks had passed since your last encounter in the dream world with your so called soulmate. A sense of hope blossomed in your chest. Maybe he had finally come to his senses and realised that it would be best to leave you alone? That was at least what your friends had told you. They had reassured you that it happened often, that your soulmate could be invasive, they had heard that before from other acquaintances. But in those cases, it had always ended well, none of the people had been harmed. You had chosen to blindly accept that explanation. Truth be told, you did need comfort right now. Because, what your friends didn’t know was, that you felt a pair of eyes burning holes into your back every time you left your home. Yet, you never saw the person behind the gaze. Foolishly, you clung onto the sense of security your friends provided you with, even if it was but wishful thinking…

 As you returned home one evening after your work, you already perceived intuitively that something was wrong. Why was there a light on? You always did turn them off… Cautiously, you entered your bedroom, as that was where the light source came from, with your phone in your hand with the emergency number already typed in. Your palms grew sweaty and your breath heavy as fear flooded through your veins. Only now, you thought that you should have maybe taken a knife from the kitchen as protection. But alas, it was already too late. When you saw the person sitting on your bed, you were surprised to see a familiar face.

The man from your dreams quickly stood up when he glanced at your form. His eyes first landed on your horrified face, then on your phone. Without a second thought, you quickly tapped on the call button and placed the device next to your ear. The man knew exactly who you were planning on phoning. “Please, take the phone away Y/N, I’m not going to harm you”, he said lowly. Even though he promised to not hurt you, his dark expression on his face made you think otherwise. Of course you weren’t going to hang up now. You heard the Italian sigh at your act of defiance. After the second beep sound, a voice appeared on the line. 

“How can I help you?”, the person on the other side of the phone asked politely. Before you could reply, an to you invisible force ripped the device out of your grasp and slammed it onto your wall. The screen of your smartphone turned black and cracked into thousand pieces. With eyes as big as saucers you stared incredulously at it. 

“I’m sorry for that”, the man simply uttered. Though you couldn’t hear a hint of actual remorse in his voice. “I’m gonna buy you a new one.” 

“What do you want?”, you managed to voice, “I thought you had left me in peace.” 

“I’ve told you at our last encounter that we would see each other again, fiore mio”, the man replied with softness. “I can’t believe you’re really here physically”, he kept on musing in a dreamy tone, eyes lighting up. He took a few steps towards you, a hand reaching out to you. You instinctively took a few steps back until your back hit the door. 

“Please, don’t come near me”, you begged, feeling completely helpless and exposed. 

“It’s fine Y/N, really. I promised I’d you show that I won’t ever hurt you again.” He was now in front of you, your faces so close, you could feel his breath fan over your nose. Tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to stream over your face. What were you going to do now? You were scared to react in a sudden way, scared it would trigger the Italian and his dangerous invisible force. Gently, the man shushed you and placed a hand on your cheek.  A calloused thumb brushed away the tears that had finally escaped. “I know that I have done bad things in the past,” he whispered quietly to you, “but I, Leone Abbacchio, swear I will fix it. I will be a better person for you, Y/N.” Your eyes widened at the revelation of his name. Abbacchio basked in your innocent reaction. He took a mental note to replay it with Moody Blues later. While one hand kept caressing your cheek, the other one grabbed into his pocket to take out a yellow flower, matching perfectly with the man’s eyes. Your gaze fell upon the plant, recognising it from the flower field of your dreams. Abbacchio softly tucked it behind your left ear while admiring your face. You hiccupped anxiously at his obsessive staring. “We will have a beautiful future ahead of us, I’ll make sure of it” the Italian murmured in your ear. 

“After all, we are soulmates.”

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None, just more fuel to the fire. Fluff!!

A/N: Honestly this was fun to write, stay on the look out for chapter 2.5 -winks-

“Neville?!”

(Y/n) walked around the boy, taking in his appearance. She almost couldn't believe it was him. The lanky, tall, awkward boy she spent her days pining over had truly blossomed and from the looks of it, turned into a flower truly worth attention. Part of her almost didn't believe it was him but the cadence of his voice combined with the soft look in his eyes was more than enough confirmation. She'd recognize them anywhere.

The boy nodded, a small smile gracing his face as he held his arms open, inviting him into the warmth of his embrace. She accepted it gladly, sighing as she relaxed into them, squeaking a bit as she felt her feet leave the ground. Relaxing a bit, the girl closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him tighter. 'Just like I remember..'

"Pardon?" He asked, causing her to tense as he sat her down. Had she said that out loud? If she had she certainly hadn't intended on doing so.

"N-nothing!" She started as she made her way back behind the counter, using her distance to admire his appearance. Twyla nudged her, still eyeing up the dangerous looking men.

"Geez (Y/n), and here I was thinking you were a complete prude. Who would've thought that you knew such hot guys!" She said, biting her lip as she eyed up the red head. The shorter girl crushed her foot, glaring up at her employee. She yelped but quieted up, staring down at her boss

"To be fair, I haven't seen any of them in 3 years. And plus, none of them looked like this during our years at Hogwarts." Her eyes drifted to the rings on Neville's thick tattooed hands. "I apologize for it taking me so long to recognize you, Nev. I hope I didn't make things too awkward."

"You're quite alright, petal. I'm not the same man I was when you went to school with me." He sighed, looking out the window into the distance as he adjusted his tie. "I've changed quite a bit."

(Y/n) could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't just referring to his new (but most certainly not unwelcomed) appearance, but he had been through some things as well. As much as she wanted to ask him about the things he had seen and the things he had done, she knew now wasn't the time. Neville had always been private about how he felt, that was another thing that clearly hadn't faded. She reached across the counter, placing her hand on top of his as she offered him a smile.

"So, how's life been treating ya? From the looks of it, I'd assume good?" She asked, watching as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He went to speak but Twyla cut him off.

"Yeah, you look like you've got money! How'd you get so rich?" She leaned forward, eyes squint as she eyed them all. "What're you like loan sharks or something?"

"Something of the sorts." The redhead responded, nodding as he spoke. However (Y/n) was in shambles, she gaped at her friend, giving her a pissed look.

"Twyla you can't just go around asking people if they're rich!" She hissed out, going to tell her off but stopped as she felt a hand on top of hers. Neville chuckled some, patting her hand a few times.

"It's fine, 's only natural to be curious. And to answer your question…" he trailed off as if he was looking for an answer. "We work a less...desirable form of work. Lots of things people normally wouldn't wanna do."

"Yeah lots of paperwork. You wouldn't wanna hear about it, trust me." The freckled brunette finally spoke up. He held his hand out for the (h/c) haired girl to shake which she shook. "Seamus Finnigan."

"Oh! Your Nev's best friend, yeah? I remember during one of our herbology classes we had to leave because you blew something up." She began to giggle at the memory, trying to stifle some brasher laughter. "I don't know how you manage to do that with a plant. I'm (Y/n)." Seamus stepped back, clearing his throat as his face tinted a dark rouge.

"Oh trust me, we know. The bos- Neville would never shut up about you. Sometimes he still doesn't, going on about how he wonders what you're up to. Maybe running into you like this will shut him up a bit." The ginger spoke up, offering her a nod of acknowledgement. "Ron Weasley."

"Well it's clear who the lover boy here is swooning for but what about you two? Are you single?" Twyla asked, stepping from around the corner. The three of them began to converse, leaving the two former acquaintances to be amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry about her. She's got no filter on her mouth." She said, laughing to clear the stiffness to clear the air. He joined her, his familiar dopey smile on his face.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, really." He sighed, looking around the bakery. "You got a job in a bakery like you always wanted! I'm happy for you, truly." She could feel the sincerity in each of his words. During her time at Hogwarts, Neville had been kind enough to be the one to sample her baking all the time while encouraging her to follow her dreams. Having him in her bakery was enough to make her heart burst.

The girl felt her face heat up as she shrugged, smiling at him sheepishly. "Actually, I don't just work here, I uh," she looked back at him as he had his focus on her, engaged as every, "I own it."

His eyes widened as he gasped, a mix of happiness and shock on his face. "Really? That's even better!" Neville's eyes wandered along the different treats and such in the display table, looking at them in awe at the variety of things. Each item was different than the other and yet they all worked together. "I see you're still as creative with your flavors. You are a true artist, (Y/n)."

"I-I wouldn't go that far. I'm just doing what I love and I couldn't be happier." She squeezed the man's hand, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks and ears. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. Whenever my parents would send me those awful howlers, you'd be right there to lift me back up."

He felt his eyes gloss over but blinked back his tears, clearing his throat as he unwillingly ripped his gaze from hers. "Wait- are those the chocolates? The ones with the brownie pieces in them?! I've been thinking about these for ages!" He exclaimed. If it weren't for the fact she was still nervous, she would've found humor in the giant, tattoo covered man freaking out about her coco brownie chocolates. 

"I remember you used to give them to me every valentine's day. We'd take them up to the astronomy tower and share them together." He sighed dreamily at the memory. "You were such a good friend for that!"

Right. Friends, that's what they were if you could even call them that. They rarely hung out with each other outside of school except for Valentine's day. She had originally gifted him the chocolates as a way to show how she felt about him but for some reason or another, he didn't realize the meaning behind them. She didn't correct him either. The way she saw it was any time she got with Neville was good time to her and that's all that mattered.

"Yeah...did you want me to pack some up for you?" She asked, reaching back for an empty box before leaning down, filling the box with the rest of the chocolates. "Here. My treat."

“Are you sure? I couldn’t possibly just take these from you! You’ve got a business to run here.” He responded, pushing the box back towards her. However, she pushed them right back, shaking her head.

“I’m positive! Think of it as an IOU for all those late night cram sessions during 7th year.” she wasn’t really giving them to him for that reason. Saying that though was just easier than saying ‘Hey take these, I’ve been in love with you for 5 years.’ and to be fair, she wasn’t in the mood for rejection. (Y/n) found herself being disappointed that even after all these years, she was conveying the way she felt for him through sweets. Anytime she went to say how she felt it was quickly just replaced with some excuse along the lines of ‘needing him to sample something’ when in reality, she knew her baking was good. But, there was just something so fulfilling from the way he’s eyes would light up whenever she’d give it to him, leaving the heart felt note in her pocket. 

“Thank you.” he smiled, taking them in his hands, acutely aware of the way her fingers were on his. He felt his face flush as he looked up at her, finding her eyes were already on his. “Listen (Y/n), I was wondering if you’d like to-” his words were cut short by the sound of a phone ringing. Shortly after Ron came up, whispering something in his ear which caused his soft expression to turn into stone. He gave him a nod, taking the box and ending the contact. “I’ve gotta get going. Duty calls! I’ll see you again soon, yeah?” he muttered something under his breath smiling at her before turning around and leaving the bakery. 

“Soo, what’s going on between you and the tall one?” Twyla questioned, sneaking another cookie from the display counter (which didn’t go unnoticed). (Y/n grabbed it from her hands, putting it back in the glass case as she rolled her eyes.

“First of all, you work at this bakery, not eat here. And second, nothing!” the blue haired girl gave her a look that screamed ‘bullshit’ which she simply chose to ignore. “He’s an old friend of mine and…”

“Andd?” she urged, using her hands to motion for her to continue. (Y/n) huffed, crossing her arms across her chest as she looked to the side.

“And my old crush. But I promise the only feelings we ever had in common were platonic ones!” she leaned over the counter, watching as his figure disappeared into the distance. A wave of regret fell over her wishing she had done something, anything to be able to see him again. She knew the reason he probably didn’t ask for her number was due to the fact that during her time at Hogwarts, she didn’t use a smart phone. It was something she had gotten into as of recent. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have asked for his.

“That looked like a lot more than platonic to me.” the green eyed girl sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as she spun around. “Love is in the air with you two! I can feel it, you know I’ve got a 6th sense for these sorta- woah! Look at the tip he fucking put in the jar!” she exclaimed, reaching her hand into the jar.

 (Y/n) gasped, eyes widening as she looked at the three hundred dollar bills in the girls hand. ‘I kinda wish I had just let him pay..’ she thought to herself. She grabbed the bills, holding them up in the light to check the authenticity. She knew Neville would never give her fake money but it was almost hard to believe that he had given it to her without hesitancy. When had he even done that?

“I told you they have money! I mean, did you see the ring he had on? The big skull one with the sapphire eyes?” she asked, watching as her boss shook her head. “There’s only 3 of those in the world! It’s a hefty price for one of them. They must be really good at what they do!”

“Since when do you know about fashion?” (Y/n) asked, causing Twyla to let out a dramatic gasp. 

“I’ll have you know I went to one of the most elite fashion schools in the wizarding world thank you very much!” (Y/n) eyed her suspiciously causing her to let out a sigh. “Okay I give up, I just shagged a guy who did. However I did steal his books!”

“Whatever.” she giggled out, walking over to hand a menu to a regular that walked in. She knew he didn’t need it but it was still common courtesy. “I just wonder what he was going to say before he left…”

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

As the sun began to set, (Y/n) flipped the sign to closed, closing the blinds. Although Wednesdays were their slow days, that didn’t mean they still didn’t get customers. There was also an unexpected lunch rush due to a conference being held in the hotel a few blocks over. Walking over to a cushion, she sat down relaxing into the softness of the chair. Her eyes shot open at the sound of the backroom door slamming open.

“You wanted excitement didn’t you?” her worker asked, causing her to nod cautiously. “Well get ready. We’ve got plans this weekend! Hope you’re ready for a much needed shopping trip.”

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[drowningbydegrees]

This was supposed to be a Whumptober ficlet, but that is... not what happened here. Instead, I come bearing mostly fluff.  Read on AO3

Jaskier makes it a whole six months past Posada before he comes to the inconvenient conclusion that this feeling stretches beyond mutually beneficial companionship. He’d kick himself for not recognizing it, except… Except that while Jaskier falls in love like breathing, it’s never like this. He’s never felt himself drawn in so thoroughly by someone else’s gravity, hopelessly stuck in their orbit. Worse still, he’s rarely loved anyone who so obviously didn’t love him back.

It’s three years after that, almost on the nose, when it dawns on Jaskier that he’s got that last part all wrong. To say that Geralt isn’t particularly talkative is a laughable understatement, but the lack of words aren’t a lack of affection. There are no terms of endearment and from Jaskier that would be quite telling, but means very little where the witcher is concerned. Geralt speaks in the way he unceremoniously dumps his cloak over Jaskier when the cold begins to creep in, in the way he often camps out in the corner of an inn to listen to songs he’s heard Jaskier sing a thousand times, in a hundred other gruff, offhanded kindnesses the witcher indulges in in the most taciturn of ways and never acknowledges.

They’re singing the same song, Jaskier recognizes eventually, but they’re on entirely different sheets of music, and that really won’t do. It’s not a seduction that the bard settles on, at least not in any traditional sense. There’s no lack of attraction (really, Jaskier is continuously baffled by how anyone could look at Geralt and not want him), but it’s background noise. He thinks of this more like finagling the two of them into some sort of harmony.

It should be a simple translation, he thinks, to convey what he means in a language Geralt might recognize. As often happens, Jaskier has a strategy. As also often happens, none of it goes to plan.

Geralt slogs back to camp like he’s carrying the whole world with him. Even from the other side of the fire with his decidedly human senses, Jaskier can tell that this is worse than usual. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jaskier has set aside his pen and paper in favor of urging Geralt to sit.

Jaskier has often tried talking, conveying his concern or affection in the shape of words because that’s the language he knows. Geralt doesn’t speak it, or doesn’t want to. No matter how wounded he is, Geralt snaps in the face of anything like kindness. Asking to be let in turns out to be the quickest way for Jaskier to find himself pushed away. So, Jaskier doesn’t ask for Geralt to meet him halfway or to invite him to do the things he’s good at. Instead, he works with what he knows already.

Even in the waning light, the dark lines spider webbing across Geralt’s pale skin stand out. Jaskier has long since learned the cadence of Geralt’s potions because it’s always the same. There’s a sort of frenetic energy that seems determined to keep Geralt from sitting still. And then, rather rudely, all the benefits the potion bestows are yanked away. At least, this is how Jaskier imagines it to be from the way Geralt always seems to crash afterwards.

But the witcher knows this far better than Jaskier even, and he’s strategic about it. He gets wherever he plans to be long before the potion wears off. Tonight, Jaskier can already see flecks of gold in Geralt’s pitch black eyes, and so, while the witcher looks to be thankfully in one piece still, he can only assume something went very, very wrong for there to have been such a delay.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he reaches to unfasten Geralt’s armor. Not everything the witcher hunts draws blood, after all.

“No.” It’s a single word, rough and weary, but more than Jaskier had really expected. Exhaustion is at least a less treacherous issue to deal with than injury, and Geralt really must be exhausted because he barely even glowers at Jaskier’s efforts to help.

Determined to speak in a way Geralt will understand, for once Jaskier doesn’t speak at all. Instead, Jaskier wordlessly tugs Geralt’s weapons and armor from his person far more efficiently than the witcher’s sluggish attempts would have managed. He does not allow himself to be distracted by the endearing flutter of Geralt’s eyelids as they droop only for him to try to blink them open again. He’d like to think it means something that Geralt would be this vulnerable in front of him, but that something is probably just that Geralt is far too overtaxed to fight it.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jaskier chides when he comes back from fetching their rations to find Geralt’s head drooping forward. Much as he’d like to just let Geralt sleep, he shakes the witcher’s shoulder and presses a couple of strips of jerky into his hand. “If you don’t eat something before you pass out we’ll both be sorry for it later.”

“I don’t-” Geralt starts, and it’s probably meant to be grouchy, but Jaskier can see enough of his eyes now to tell that they’re sort of crossed and unfocused.

“Yes yes. I know. You don’t need my help,” Jaskier finishes for him, shoving a waterskin at Geralt. “But you’ve got it, so let’s skip to the part where you stop complaining and let me.”

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, they do. Geralt makes a noncommittal sort of sound around a bite of jerky, but otherwise makes no attempt to shoo Jaskier away.

He’d had a plan, damn it, but Jaskier can be adaptable. He’d meant to say it with a hot dinner and maybe an equally hot bath or something. Geralt puts value on so few things that it had always been a sort of nebulous idea anyway. Instead, Jaskier says it with field rations and lukewarm drinking water. He says it with the effort it takes to lay out Geralt’s bedroll and then to bully the witcher into it. He says it by sitting nearby and keeping an eye out while Geralt drifts to sleep.

Geralt is lovely like this, in an eerie sort of way. Bit by bit, the black veins are fading and the chalky pale tone of his skin is warming, and he looks soft in the muted firelight. The frown that so often graces his lips is entirely absent, or perhaps just out of view since Geralt’s nose is all but pressed to the side of Jaskier’s thigh. Messy silver locks that have long since escaped their tie frame Geralt’s face and shoulder, like something out of a fairy tale, and surely, Jaskier thinks, no one could fault him for running his fingers through it.

It’s softer than it has any right to be, especially with the lack of care on Geralt’s part. For once it doesn’t look like someone dumped a bucket of dirt (or worse) over Geralt’s head. More importantly, the gentle scrape of Jaskier’s nails against Geralt’s scalp draws a quiet sigh from the witcher, and honestly he’s practically obligated to continue if it helps his friend sleep. It’s totally and entirely selfless, you see.

That’s he’s entirely distracted from the writing he’d meant to return to is just an unimportant detail. Jaskier might have kept on forever, but very abruptly, Geralt reaches up, trapping the bard’s wrist in his grip. It’s too well placed to be something the witcher did while dreaming or some such, and too firm to be anything but intentional anyway. Feeling rather caught, Jaskier stumbles over an attempt at an explanation. “Geralt. I- uh-”

But there’s no complaint forthcoming. Geralt doesn’t even open his eyes. He only turns his head a little, nuzzling into the palm of Jaskier’s hand. Before Jaskier can wrap his head around that, Geralt hums contentedly and presses a sleepy, feather light kiss to the bard’s skin.

It’s a soft, nothing sort of gesture, and Jaskier smiles to himself as Geralt’s grip goes slack with sleep. He frees his wrist from Geralt’s hand to smooth over the witcher’s hair once more instead. Of course he should have known Geralt was trying to make him understand too.

Message received. Jaskier allows himself a moment to watch Geralt sleep and a chaste kiss to the witcher’s temple. Still grinning like a fool, he gathers up his paper and pen and gets back to work.

Witcher Masterpost

[faulty-writes]

A scenario where Tamaki's been trying to confess to his crush for literal MONTHS but just can't ever get it out. Since his voice doesn't work around reader he decides to write a letter, penning down his innermost passions and it ends up being REALLY long with flowery Helga Pataki-esque descriptions of his feelings. But he ends up EATING the paper to prevent reader from seeing it when yn almost sees it. Later that dayduring training, his quirk manifest forces him to say everything he wrote aloud.

[ Finally your girl posts something after forever. Sorry guys! Life has been a bit crazy, I got obsessed with a couple role play groups, and of course, school. But, I’ll try to be better with my blog. I hope you all enjoy this Tamaki piece, thank you for the request dear anon! I thought this idea was a very unique take on Tamaki’s quirk. ] 

There you go again. His eyes locked on your every move as you walked through the hallway, your friends by your side, and you were laughing and smiling. Making his heart accelerate and his cheeks flush as always. It was true, Tamaki Amajiki. One of the members that made up The Big Three, had fallen for you. Unfortunately, despite trying to confess to you countless times. 

It did no good. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was thinking. He’d always be nervous when he approached you, cheeks red, and that stutter of his present. Even when he did finally manage to speak, he’d find his tongue felt like it was swollen, then he’d get more embarrassed and panic. Despite the fact, you would always ask him what’s wrong or if he needed help. 

The fact is, he was nothing but a coward. He’d turn and run which didn’t help much with his confidence considering he knew that you probably thought he was some kind of a freak. But, he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you with someone else which might sound selfish. He knew it was selfish but, he didn’t care. He wanted you all to himself and for once, maybe he deserved what he wanted. 

But, he didn’t know how to tell you. How could he reveal his feelings to you without looking silly or fearing rejection? There was only one person he thought of asking, “Well!” Nejire’s voice was as bright and cheery as ever as they sat outside a cafe. Nejire had insisted because they had good lattes and Tamaki was never one to argue. 

She smiled as she reached over to place her hand over his, the warmth and comfort from that gentle touch put him at ease for the moment. But, still, he needed an answer on what to do and eagerly waited to hear what Nejire had to say. “If you ask me, nothing says I love you more than the words of a love letter!” Tamaki’s expression completely dropped, his eyes widened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“W-What?” he questioned, he could already feel his stomach twist. That nauseous feeling of butterflies beginning to bother him, his cheeks grew unusually hot and he shook his head. “I c-can’t d-do that!” he stuttered out as his free hand tightened around the styrofoam cup he held. Nejire looked at him with a cross expression. 

“They don’t have to know who it’s from silly!” she half scolded, “Besides maybe it’ll help you sort out what you really want to say to them!” she suggested with a bright smile that made Tamaki groan in response. “I c-can’t! T-That’s so e-embarrassing and w-what if t-they find out the l-letter was f-from me!? W-What am I s-supposed to do?! W-What am I supposed t-to say?” he questioned and Nejire shook her head before slowly getting up from her seat. 

“Well duh!” she said before reaching over to lightly knock on Tamaki’s head, something that caught his attention but also made him flinch. He leaned back with a present frown on his face, “D-Duh what?” he asked, growing a little scared as she leaned over. He didn’t exactly like that smile on her face. “Then you have nothing left to hide,” she concluded as she reached up to boop his nose which made him wiggle it in response. 

He then looked down, nervous eyes shifting back and forth, “I...I d-don’t know,” he said which had Nejire sighing and she placed her hands on her hips. “Just start with the love letter and see where it goes from there, you may not believe it Amajiki, but you’re pretty brave when you’re determined,” she said before patting his shoulder. “Don’t forget that,” she said, smiling yet again before she walked away. 

Leaving him sitting there alone, his body hunched over the table as a gentle breeze came to ruffle his hair. Should he try to write you a love letter? Sure it sounded easy, but what if he got nervous and ended up writing the wrong thing? Was there a right or wrong way to write something as personal as a love letter? Your feelings across paper? Well, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try.

So he purchased a notebook and pen and began to get to work, at first he found it rather difficult. His words were sloppy and lacking the meaningful nature he wanted them to. But, on occasion, this would change. Especially when he saw you in the hallway or in class, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of inspiration and would always write the words that screamed from his heart when he was near your presence. 

He often rewrote the confessions he had, longing for them to be perfect. He was almost finished with what he believed to be the perfect love letter and though he was still unsure how he’d give it to you. He was currently sitting in the library, body hunched over the table as he neared the end of his letter. All that was left were those three big words, the words he was too shy to speak. 

But, the ones that he longed to scream from the top of his lungs, the ones that could only be used to summarize how he felt about you. His pen continued to glide across the lined paper, prepared to write ‘I love you’ before he jumped. You had noticed Tamaki around and while you knew he was a member of The Big Three, you had never actually had a full conversation with him. 

Though you had class together and on occasion, you got the chance to fight side by side with him. He was amazing and you admired him for the heroism he showed, it was almost silly to think he was the same shy boy you saw roaming through the halls. You had always wanted to try and become friends with him, given you knew from past experience he tended to stutter and honestly couldn’t hold up a conversation. 

Still, you were determined to try. Of course, you hadn’t expected him to jump when you spotted him in the library and decided to walk over. You noticed he was writing something and couldn’t help but try and sneak a peek at it, looked pretty serious. You blinked before lowering your mouth to his adorable elf-like ear. “Hi Amajiki-san!” the cry that left his mouth ended up scaring you and without thinking. 

You stumbled back and watched as his head turned, those precious indigo-colored eyes wide and fearful and his cheeks dusted over a faint red. “Y-Y/n!?” he exclaimed before pulling the notebook to his chest, fingers securely grasping it. Hiding the written evidence of his feelings for you, despite you having no knowledge of his feelings for you in the first place or how he was trying to convey them through written words. 

You did, however, know he was hiding something and couldn’t help but smirk. “Hm?” you raised your hand, pointing a finger at the notebook. “What are you trying to hide there, Amajiki-san?” you questioned as you took a step closer, reaching out to grab his upper arm. You tugged on his sleeve and Tamaki let out a soft whine. “N-Nothing! I-It’s nothing!” he stuttered out, feeling his stomach twist into knots. 

He hoped he wouldn’t get nauseous, you were so close. You were touching him! “Oh? If it’s nothing then why are you hiding it?” you questioned in a teasing manner as you took a firmer grip and yanked his arm away. “Show me, I’m curious! Is it a project? Essay?!” the questions left your mouth in an excited manner. “I-It’s not uh, h-hey!” you had reached over and snatched the notebook away. 

“Oh boo, let me at least proofread it for you,” Tamaki’s stomach flipped upside down and his hand was clutching his chest, twisting the fabric of the signature red tie of his school uniform. He couldn't let you read it! He’d die! But there you were, holding his notebook with his dedicated words of love scribbled across it. “Now then,” you turned your attention to the notebook, about to read the first line just as the sound of a chair falling came. 

You jumped and turned to look but before you could react you felt a strong hand around your wrist. “Amajiki-san!” you exclaimed, prepared to activate your quirk or at least find your way out of his grip. But then, another noise echoed through the air. Your attention shifted back to the notebook and your jaw dropped as you realized he had ripped out the single page you were trying to read.

“Amajiki!” you scolded again, “S-Sorry! B-But you c-can’t see t-this!” he said as he proceeded to crumble the paper into a ball. You looked at him bewildered as he then shoved said ball into his mouth. “Uh…” was the only sound that managed to come out of your mouth as you watched him chew and proceed to swallow the paper. You blinked, lowering the notebook. 

Jaw hanging open in absolute awe at what you had just witnessed. Tamaki on the other hand had an itchy throat, and when the crumbled paper reached his stomach. He felt a small ache, which prompted him to place a hand over his stomach. His face was completely red, all the way to the pointy tips of his ears. “G-God, that w-was e-embarrassing u-uh…” he couldn’t even bear to look at you. 

He did, however, reach out to snatch his notebook back. The action caused you to gasp and you took a step back, your mind still trying to process what had just occurred. Damn, was it that much of a secret he had to eat it? What sense did that make? Still, you watched as he took the notebook and put everything into his backpack before scurrying away. Strange. 

You knew you’d see him in just a few moments, given you had class and hero training together. But, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to see him after he pulled such a strange stunt. “Uh...okay, bye then?” you said, clearly still confused despite the fact he was long gone. You placed your hands on your hips and sighed. “Well, wonder if I’ll see anything stranger than that today,” you shrugged and exited the library. 

It was almost a nightmare trying to sit through class, much less pay attention to the lesson. It didn’t help that you sat near Tamaki either, but he seemed to give you the cold shoulder. Not so much as dare to take a glance at you, though you happened to notice his hand was over his stomach. Maybe he had a stomach ache, though after consuming a whole piece of paper splattered with ink.

It didn’t surprise you much, if at all. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder just what he had to hide. When afternoon came, you seemed to have forgotten about the strange incident as soon as you slipped on your hero attire. You grinned as you walked alongside your classmates to Ground Gamma, given you couldn’t help but glance over at Tamaki. 

He was currently talking to Nejire, but you noticed his face was twisted in some form of discomfort. “Y/n...Y/n!!!” you snapped out of your thoughts before turning to face one of your classmates. “Huh? What?” it was a little shameful you had zoned out, but even so. The teachers had decided that instead of team exercises, you’d be facing each other one on one. 

This disappointed you as you rather enjoyed working with your classmates to form tactical strategies and such, but it was important for heroes to learn how to work on their own as well. The who versus whom opponents were randomized as to assure fairness and the element of surprise, you were hoping you’d be one of the first students to show your skills in combat.

But, unfortunately, you weren’t and much like the other student heroes in training, you had to stand back and observe. Though you found yourself growing bored and decided to take a seat on the ground, pulling your knees up to your chest and sporting a dull expression. You glanced over at Tamaki once more, taking note that he was still holding his stomach and Nejire was patting his shoulder. 

You assumed she was telling him he was fine. As the second pair of students finished their training exercise, you leaned back and gave a loud yawn which seemed to catch your teacher’s attention. “Y/n,” they said and you turned to look at them with a raised eyebrow, but answered nonetheless. “Yes?” you replied, “Since you seem so bored, I’ll give you a task. Next match, Suneater verse Y/n!” your eyes widened and you sported a dumbfounded expression. 

“W-What?” you questioned and your teacher merely smirked at you, was that even legal? You knew your teachers were also pro heroes and as such, should be respected. But, sometimes you couldn’t help but question their teaching methods. Your classmates seemed rather surprised, whispering how lucky you were to be facing a member of The Big Three and how you’d more than likely get your ass kicked. 

Tamaki didn’t seem to take the news very well either, in fact, his face twisted into what you could only describe as pure fear. “Uh, I d-don’t think-” he tried to protest, but the teacher cut him off quickly and ordered you two to start at opposite ends of the training ground. You looked to Tamaki and shrugged, “May the best student win?” once you had taken your position among the twisted landscape of metal piping. 

You crouched down, going through strategies that could possibly give you an advantage. You wouldn’t let the fact he was a member of The Big Three bother you, even though this all boiled down to one thing. You had to try your best, with that in mind. You decided to lay low and take a running start, keeping your eyes and ears open for Tamaki. 

Carefully avoiding those obnoxious pipes in your way before you heard a noise. It was just a small creek, but you knew better than to believe it was just Ground Gamma settling. You stopped briefly, legs bent and ready to make an escape if you needed to. You stared into the abyss of metal before suddenly a tentacle shot out toward you, but a quick dodge saved you from being captured and you took off. 

Slithering between big and small pipes alike before you decide to ricochet between two of them, angling your body so you landed on top of a sturdy pipe. You quickly turned on your feet, glancing over the landscape once more. Your eyes searching for any sight or sign of Tamaki, you also had to be aware those tentacles of his could be trouble. With that idea, you quickly looked down. 

Ensuring there was no sight of those powerful octopus arms, you then opted to travel above the pipes. Easily jumping from one to the next, your head turning back and forth despite the fact that wind was ruffling your hair and causing your bangs to sway in your face. But, it was quiet. Everything was so quiet which it shouldn’t be, Tamaki’s steps couldn’t be that silent, unless...he wasn’t on the ground. 

Your eyes widened at the realization and from the corner of your eye, you saw a single brown feather. “Oh no,” you turned your head as a shadow cast over you. Instantly, your jaw dropped as you saw him. Tamaki, Suneater, the best of the best. Right above you, brown wings spread to their span. His right hand was morphed into long tentacles and his left shaped into a clamshell.

Before you could blink, those wings flapped and the next thing you recalled was a hard hit to your stomach. It threw you off balance and you fell a good few feet before reaching the ground. Pain surged through your person and a long groan escaped you. Every fiber of your being was screaming for you to get back up, but you were too slow. You heard Tamaki land behind you, but he said nothing as he approached you.

Which at the moment, was scary even though he was normally a quiet and reserved person. However, you yelped when you felt those tentacles proceed to wrap around you, binding your arms by your sides. Your quirk was useless without the movement of your hands and knowing that simple fact, you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. It seemed Tamaki had to add insult to injury as you felt the pressure of his enlarged chicken foot against your back. 

“I think...y-you’re...done…” came his words, seems he was always a tad braver when he was Suneater which made sense. You turned your head as much as you could, sending a glare toward him. You were usually better than this, but to get bested this quickly. It only reminded you of how much further you had to go before you could truly call yourself a hero. 

“Suneater…” you hissed out, flexing your arms as you attempted to get out of his grip. Tamaki however, felt his stomach twist again and his face once more showed discomfort. Maybe eating that letter was a bad idea. It certainly wasn’t settling in his stomach right, and his heart was racing at an unusual speed. But, he felt a strange sense of happiness course through his body as well. 

“Y/n, I think you’re my love,” a gasp left his mouth and you felt those tentacles retract. You pressed your hand to the ground, now looking at Tamaki with a wide-eyed expression. “W-What?” you questioned, wondering if you heard him correctly. But, judging by the way he was holding his hands over his mouth and how red his face was turning. 

You assumed you had indeed heard the words he had spoken correctly. He took a step back and you noticed his wings were disappearing, was his quirk so consciously controlled that when he was distracted by overwhelming emotions it became faulty? You were more than certain that if the teachers and fellow hero students were still watching, they would be confused as to why Tamaki had let you go.

You slowly rose to your feet, though your body. Mostly your ribs coursed with a dull ache which had you grasping your side. Your eyes were locked on Tamaki as he shook his head and took a step back, his hands tightened around his mouth to prevent it from opening again. But, it was no good. His jaw ached and he couldn’t stop himself, painfully he opened his mouth and more confusing words spilled. 

“I...have...been watching you...for so long! I see...you in the...h-halls...and I…” his body went tense as he forced his jaw closed once more, teeth pressing tightly together. What was happening? He had no idea, but he needed to be quiet or else. Oh God, was this because he had eaten the confession he wrote? Your jaw was hanging open, unsure of how to process the words he was speaking. 

First, he ate a piece of paper, now this? You took a step back when Tamaki stepped forward, “Uh, T-Tamaki, are you okay?” you questioned before he opened his mouth once more, his eyes watering over which concerned you all the more. “I...f-freeze! You’re the one...p-plaguing...my t-thoughts, my desires…I,” Tamaki’s jaw clenched once more and he leaned over, his hands curling into fists. 

“I w-want you...my l-love,” your heart began to pound in your chest, being called ‘my love’ by Tamaki of all people. Well, it was sweet. But, you couldn’t ignore the fact this was clearly not a willing confession. Something was making him speak against his will, maybe his quirk? His voice was strained and breathless which only furthered your assumption he was truly fighting with himself.

“I...long...t-to hold…y-you! My darling...and b-be your hero, to c-cradle and protect...y-you!” his body was trembling as he raised his hand, fingers spread out and palm facing toward you. Your eyes shifted to that hand, eyebrows furrowing together. “Uh...Tamaki,” you said, though you were tempted to take that hand. “I long...t-to be yours!” he stumbled forward, his face was hot and he could feel droplets of sweat fall from his person.

The fact his cheeks were completely red was a good indication he was embarrassed by what he was saying which caused you to frown. You planted your feet on the ground, knowing that you couldn’t exactly run away or restrain him in his current state in order to win. That wasn’t a fair fight and in addition, you knew heroes don’t run from those in need. 

However, it seemed even in his...current abnormal state. He was still in control of some of the aspects of his quirk, in fact, before you could properly react. Those tentacles were around one of your arms, the suction cups digging into your skin and taking firm grip. “Amajiki!” you took a step back, trying to pull your arm out of his grip. But, it was no use as you just got pulled forward again. 

“AMAJIKI,” you warned again, going as far as to reach over and begin to claw at those tentacles. The sound of your shoes scraping against the metal ground wasn’t exactly comforting, neither was the fact you knew you were going to lose this small struggle. “I w-want to be your husband...one day! Scream your name...f-from the rooftops! My love...my one and o-only!” you shook your head, now growing afraid of the shy reserved boy. 

Especially when he finally pulled you forward, causing you to shriek. Your hand was out as you collided with his chest and you immediately felt the pressure of his arm against your lower back. His nails digging into your hip which made you hiss. But he continued to speak, “Just let me h-hold you and soak y-your body in! M-Melt together in a beautiful...ember of love and j-joy,” you blinked, trying to jerk your body out of his grip.

But, it was of little use. He leaned over and you shivered when you felt the soft skin of his face bury itself into your hair. “You are...my w-whole world…” he sucked in a breath, still fighting but it was beginning to hurt. His stomach felt heavy, too weighed down. He needed to say everything, “Fear and c-courage, the one...s-sole purpose in my life...i-is you,” the words were mumbled slightly and he lifted his head. 

“I won’t g-give up. I’ll f-fight the army that holds m-my love hostage, I want you to be...m-mine,” your eyes widened and you wanted to tilt your head up and look at him, but you were almost afraid to. “My l-love and my heart, the one...I w-wish to worship. D-Drop to my knees...a-and kiss your skin,” he choked out and you could feel those tentacles loosen around you. 

“Tamaki…?” his name came out of your mouth in a soft whisper and you finally lifted your head to look at him. His face was still twisted, a painful expression spread across it and you gasped as he leaned close. You were taken back by the intense expression that danced in his eyes and your face began to grow red. “I want t-to set up a s-shrine...pray to your p-powerful aura,” this was just getting weird, but somehow you knew it was the truth which made it even scarier. 

You were tempted to run when those tentacles finally retracted, but you didn’t have time to even think about such as Tamaki’s hand now gently took hold of your chin. You felt a lump form in your throat as you found yourself staring into Tamaki’s eyes. “Forever...m-more...until the end of my...d-days...I...” he suddenly stopped and his breath hitched.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. However, you let out another shriek when Tamaki suddenly dropped to the ground. You stumbled back, not having expected such a thing. The sound of his panting filled the air and you watched as he reached up and ran his hand through his hair. Such didn’t help the sweat that covered his person and your eyebrows furrowed once more. 

“I...Amajiki, are you...I mean...everything you said...was it…” you were almost afraid to ask and took a sharp breath which caused a shooting pain to course through your ribs. You latched onto your lip to prevent yourself from hissing and Tamaki slowly lifted his head to look at you. His eyes full of horror and regret, “I...I…” he wasn’t sure what to say, what could he say?

He wasn’t entirely sure what made him say what he did, every word he spoke was in his letter. Did eating it make an effect on his quirk? He groaned and covered his face, saying no more before he took off running in the opposite direction. It took you a moment to fully realize the Big Three member was indeed making a run for it, “Amajiki, wait!” you called out, your hand outstretched in his direction.

Your teachers and fellow students who witnessed this odd interaction were currently scratching their heads, trying to piece together what could have possibly happened to cause one of the top students to run with his tail between his legs. But, the fact you were being watched through this whole exercise was the last thing on your mind. 

You couldn’t help but run after Amajiki, your feet pounding against the metal flooring of Ground Gamma. While you had lost sight of him, you knew there was only one place he could have gone. To the end of the training ground where the exit was located, though you weren’t as fast as Tamaki which caused some anxiety as you hoped he’d be where you thought he was. 

When you reached the location of the exit, you leaned over with your hands on your knees. The sound of your soft panting filled the air before you wiped your brow. Your jaw then clenched as you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ribs, the exit to Ground Gamma was a large hallway with very dim lighting. In a way, it made you uneasy seeing Tamaki there. 

Despite being dressed in his hero attire, he was facing the wall. His forehead pressed against it and you could tell he was trembling, you had known Tamaki to do this exact thing. Given the fact he was rather shy and suffered from anxiety, you frowned and slowly approached him. “Amajiki,” you said, your voice was soft. But, that didn’t stop the fact that Tamaki ducked his head. 

You reached your hand out, wanting to touch him but you decided against it for now. You took a deep breath, “Um, so…” you reached up, scratching the side of your temple. Where would you even begin? “I’m not sure...what that was but...did you mean it? Everything you said?” Tamaki wanted to smack his head against the wall, your question left his stomach twisting with butterflies. 

Honestly, part of him wished his heart would stop as opposed to continue to pound inside his chest. Of course, everything he said was the truth as terribly spoken and previously written down as it was. He honestly didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, he had never written a love letter before and though he had made countless drafts. It seemed he just wasn’t talented enough to write such romantic words on paper. 

“Mm…” is the only way he managed to respond to you. “Mm? Amajiki…” you paused and decided to finally reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder.  However, he seemed to shy away from your touch. Shuffling to the side, you let out a sigh and lowered your hand. A friendly touch wouldn’t do anything in this case and you didn’t know the other Big Three members well enough to ask them how to properly handle Tamaki when he got like this. 

You’d feel bad if you left him all alone, but it didn’t seem as though he wanted your company at the current moment. You glanced down, hearing the sound of wind echo through the open exit way. You turned your head to look around, you knew you couldn’t afford to waste any more time. 

Else your teacher would begin to look for you or another verse competition would start. “Amajiki…” you said yet again, allowing your hands to rest by your sides. “Regardless if...what you said was true or not, I think we need to leave an-” before you could say anything more.

Tamaki had turned and began to sprint away and it honestly made your heart sink. You watched him disappear from view again and let out a sigh, maybe you’d confront him about it later. But, if what he said was true. Well, you’d need to figure out how you felt about it.

[azurethevampire]

Mando’s Lessons to Parenting Special: The Gift

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!

The Mandalorian won the vote for Christmas fic 2020 by one vote so here we are - I hope you enjoy! :)

As there isn't really Christmas in the Star Wars universe I have taken the liberty to play around with Life Day which I see as the closest equivalent to Christmas in the Star Wars universe.

Summary: Life Day is closing in and you are determined to get both The Child and Mando the perfect gifts. The little one's gift is easy enough but the closer the holiday comes the more frustrated you grow as you can't figure out a gift that would be good enough for Mando. But Din Djarin just might give you the best present yet. 

Words: 2017

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

"A hundred!?"

"Yes."

"For, for this piece of scrap?!" 

The salesperson glared at you at that. "Listen, you aren't happy with my prices-", they yanked the metallic item out of your hands with more force than necessary, "take yourself elsewhere. You're ruining my good day." 

You narrowed your eyes and grit your teeth. You had to close your eyes, take a deep breath and force yourself to turn around from the booth - which declared itself as the perfect gift shop - to stop you from entering a shouting match with the salesperson. 

How were you ever going to buy a gift for Din Djarin when it seemed every single salesperson in this town had such upscale prices for little pieces of junk?! You didn’t have that much money on you as it was and the last thing you wanted to do was borrow credits from Din. It would have been just plain wrong to use Din’s own money to buy him a gift for Life Day.

“Ugh”, you groaned and kicked a rock out of your path. Why was this so hard now? You had had no trouble finding a gift for the little green monster that you had claimed as your brother. Why was Din’s gift so difficult? It seemed that every single thing that you even considered was either too expensive for you or just wasn’t the right gift. 

 The sound of something shattering made you look up, eyes widening. Seeing that the stone you had kicked had hit a clay pot in front of a home, you halted and then groaned. 

You thought about turning around. It didn't seem like anyone had noticed you had kicked the rock. You could just turn around, run from the scene and continue your gift searching. 

But you couldn't do it; even if it weren’t for the hands that suddenly landed on your shoulders you most likely would have gone up to the house and apologized to its owner for breaking their property. 

"I hope you didn't do that on purpose, kid." 

You craned your neck backwards to look up at Cara Dune whose hands gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. 

"I didn't", you answered honestly, although there was an underlying tone of bitterness that Cara caught on. 

The former mercenary turned sheriff frowned. "Alright, kid, we are gonna go up there and pay for the damage in a moment, but first you are going to tell me what's going on with you." 

The woman lifted a finger as you opened your mouth protest. "Ah-ah, before you tell me that 'nothing' is going on, I suggest you take into consideration that I know you kid and this is not you." 

You huffed and crossed your arms. "Fine." You said. "I can't find a gift good enough for him." 

"Who, Mando?"

"Yeah", you nodded. "Everything I even consider ends up being way too over-prized! I will never find a gift for him in time for Life Day by this rate!" 

Cara patted your head. "You take this thing way too seriously kid; have you considered that perhaps the best gift to our friend from you would be something self-made?"

"...self-made?" you repeated, seemingly dumbstruck. 

How come you hadn't thought about that? Making something to Din would indeed be a perfect gift! What else could be both affordable and show how much the man meant to you?

Suddenly you grinned and were quick to hug Cara around the waist. "Thank you! You gave me the perfect idea, Cara!" 

The former stormtrooper grabbed you by the scruff of your neck when you tried to dash away from her. "Kid, as glad as I am to help you, we had a deal, remember?"

You looked up at her sheepishly. "Sorry. I will go and apologize for breaking the vase."

•-•-•-•-•-•

The Mandalorian had never really celebrated Life Day. Never had any reason to do so. 

Now he found himself indulging his two charges and especially the older one. He barely admitted it to himself (he certainly was not going soft) but Din quite enjoyed seeing the way your face lit up when you got the permission to hang up some light strips around the Razor Crest's living area along with some other ornaments you and the kid had managed to dig up from somewhere. 

Wanting to give the kids something better on this day that so clearly meant a lot to you, Din had made an effort to buy you all a more festive meal. It was no tip-yip but it was the best substitute he could afford. Of course, he would only watch you and the kid eat and would help himself for whatever his two little troublemakers left for him after you would fall asleep. 

"Wow! This is so good!" You exclaimed once you were seated around the table on Life Day eating the meal Din had gotten for you. The child across from you made happy agreeing noises as he munched his own food. 

"I'm glad you like it, kids." 

"Are you kidding, Mando? This's gotta be the best meal I have had for a while", you said. "You gotta try this!" you insisted, pushing a plate towards the Mandalorian. 

Behind the cover of his helmet, Din Djarin grimaced. 

He knew that you had not meant anything malicious with those words but it struck him right to his heart for two reasons. One, because he was trying to do his best by both of the kids who had managed to sneak their way into his heart but initially he knew that the life he had to offer you was far from the best you and The Child could have with someone else. Two: you jested to him about his helmet most of the time but lately the jabs meant to be light had only managed to make Din feel bad. 

He knew how much he meant to you. For crying out loud, you had accidentally called him dad a while ago - not that you seemed to remember and he wasn't about to remind you even if he sort of wanted to.

You two little rascals had come to mean the world to him, so why couldn't he take his helmet off in front of you?

"Okay!" Your voice interrupted the Mandalorian's train of thought. You sounded both excited and nervous as you pushed your now empty plate away from you. "It's time for the gifts!" 

Gifts?!

Dank farrik, I forgot about the presents!

You proceeded to take out two messily wrapped boxes from under the table, one being significantly smaller in size than the other. 

The Child tilted his head curiously as you passed him the smaller one. "Happy Life Day, brother", you wished and then helped him unwrap the gift. 

It revealed a small metallic ball, much similar to the one from the cockpit that The Child loved to play with, Din noticed. And if the happy babbling noises The Child made indicated anything, he enjoyed his gift. 

"And uh… this is for you, Din", you said next, obviously nervous and pushed the larger of the gifts towards the Mandalorian. 

His hands automatically wrapped around the package but he didn't open it yet, looking at you instead. "Y/N…" he began, somewhat hesitating. What if you got mad at him for not having a gift in return? "I'm sorry but I forgot about the gifts - I don't have one for you." 

"...oh", you said, and Din didn't like the fact that he couldn't make out if it was a disappointed 'oh' or a neutral one. But then a small smile appeared on your face. "It's okay, I- you agreeing to celebrate today with us is a gift enough for me." 

No, it is not. It shouldn't be, Din thought but said nothing and only bobbed his head slowly. 

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" you asked with a frown. 

The Child also looked at the Mandalorian with a questioning, almost demanding look. Din Djarin let out a chuckle, slightly altered by his voice modulator. "Alright, kids, I'll open it,” he relented. 

What the wrapping revealed made Din Djarin’s eyes sting and his vision blurred a bit. It was not the best artwork he had seen in his life but at the same time, it definitely was the most beautiful one. 

You had excelled yourself this time. He wondered how long it had taken you to make this. 

From behind his visor, Din looked at three self-made figurines with blurry eyes. They were standing on a small round pedestal made of moss and small rocks. The tallest figure wore an armor resembling his beskar one and was holding a bundle of green with one arm as the other was wrapped around the shoulders of a figurine of a little girl.

On the bottom edge of the rock pedestal was carved one word, a word that Din didn't even know you knew; Aliit. 

Family in Mando’a. 

Was this the your way of telling him that this was how you saw Din? How you saw the three of you?

Suddenly Din realised that both of the children were looking at him. There had been a smile on your face but as the seconds dragged by and Din hadn’t said anything the smile faded. 

“I- I can make you a new one if you don’t-”

“No!” Din said, maybe a bit louder than was necessary, startling both of the kids as you jumped slightly in your seats. “No, Y/N”, he said next, in a gentler tone. “... it’s…” he tried to search for a word that would convey how much this gift had managed to move something inside him but he didn’t know such word, and he cursed himself for it. Instead he reached out and took your hand in his, squeezing it. “Thank you, kid.” 

The smile returned to your face and Din felt relief wash over him. 

This was how it was supposed to be: his kids were supposed to be happy. 

Din carefully lifted the group of figurines from the table. “I know the perfect place for it.” 

“Yeah, what is that?” you asked, now curious. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, kid”, Din said, his voice having a playful edge to it. 

•-•-•-•-•-•

“Thank you, Din.” 

The Mandalorian pushed your hair behind your ear. It was nighttime, and the Child had already fallen asleep in the middle of playing with his new toy. After all these months, Din Djarin still marvelled at how it had become a mundane routine for him to tuck you kids in your beds before laying down himself. 

“I should be thanking you, kiddo.” 

You frowned. “For what?” 

For giving me a family I didn’t know I needed, he thought, but couldn’t make himself to say it. “For showing me the meaning of Life Day.” 

“Oh”, you said. You pat his armor-covered arm a few times. “You’re welcome.” 

No, this didn’t cut it, Din thought. He should be able to give you something. Something that you would - could - hold valuable. But you would fall asleep soon and the moment would be gone. 

Then it struck him. 

He could give you the perfect Life Day gift after all. Something that you had wanted as long as you had known him. 

“Hey kiddo?” You hummed in response as you had already closed your eyes. “Don’t go to sleep yet. I have something for you.” 

“Wh-what?” you mumbled, drowsily opening your eyes again. You pushed yourself to sit and let your eyes fall on the Mandalorian. 

For a few seconds, Din Djarin hesitated but then his hands moved to the sides of his helmet. 

Your eyes widened as you understood what he was about to do. 

And Din Djarin removed his helmet for the first time in front of you, letting you see the face that you had so long been begging to see. 

“Happy Life Day, kid”, he said softly. 

You teared up and all you could do was to stare at him in the eyes you had dreamed to see on so many occasions.