#they’re so endearing like just imagining them all getting together and getting in their places for the picture

[strryhaze]

from l-r: nancy tuckerman, bobby kennedy, jackie kennedy, patricia lawford, joan kennedy, jean smith kennedy, lem billings, lee radziwell, stanislaw radziwell, & teddy kennedy

the friend group is friendgrouping

[babyleostuff]

perilla leaf/ shrimp debate | ot13

the perilla leaf debate: whether it is appropriate for one’s significant other to help peel the perilla leaf of a friend

𐙚🧸ྀི choi seungcheol

does absolutely not fuck with the idea. you’re not touching anyone’s food, he’s not touching anyone's food, and someone else is definitely not touching your food. he would genuinely give you a silent treatment if you helped your/ his friend with the perilla leaf or a shrimp because choi seungcheol is a possessive bitch, and he’s not afraid of letting everyone around him know about that (as if the hand on your thigh wasn’t enough). the only person that you can touch your food, and help you with it is him. end of story.

𐙚🧸ྀི yoon jeonghan

he wouldn’t mind you helping out your friend with peeling the perilla leaf or the shrimp, jeonghan is all for acts of service, and helping those who need it. even if the person would try to use the peeling as an excuse to flirt with you or get closer - still, no reaction from jeonghan. that’s just lame in his opinion, like seriously? a leaf? and i can imagine him scoffing loud enough for your friend to hear.

𐙚🧸ྀི joshua hong

does not pay attention to it, because if he was in your place he’d help his friend out as well. like, it’s so obvious to shua that neither a perilla leaf, nor a shrimp could question the quality of your relationship, and loyalty to each other, so why focus on something as silly as that? it actually causes the opposite effect for him - he finds it really endearing how you pay attention to the people around you, and how eager you are to help them.

𐙚🧸ྀི wen junhui

jun definitely wouldn’t say anything even if he was bothered by it, but i’m not really sure if he’d pay that much attention to it anyway. if you were around people you both knew very well, like the boys and their significant others, he wouldn’t mind it whatsoever. but if you were out with people he didn’t know that well he’d be more attentive then, but still - he wouldn’t make a scene out of it by any means. he’d maybe get a bit, i don’t know, sad? for a moment, but it would quickly go away. it’s just a leaf/ shrimp after all. 

𐙚🧸ྀི kwon soonyoung

(he’d probably be the one in need of your super duper peeling skills) the only thing he’d be truly bothered by if you helped your friend would be that they stole your attention from him, and kwon soonyoung needs your attention. the peeling itself is not that big of a deal, though i think a small part of hoshi would be a bit jealous, maybe he’d give you a bit of an attitude because peeling a shrimp can’t be that hard, right? but it’s nothing too serious, soonyoung is usually dramatic like that so it’s nothing new for you.

𐙚🧸ྀི jeon wonwoo

okay so, here’s the thing. if you help someone or someone else helps you, and it’s purely platonic - wonwoo has no problem with it. you’re all friends, it’s all good. BUT, if he sees that the person you’re helping out is flirting with you, and is using the excuse of the perilla leaf or the shrimp - it’s a big no no. he wouldn’t say anything, he’d definitely stay silent, but his face would say it all. would eye the person from head to toe with his sharp eyes (bonus point if he takes off his glasses to be more dramatic). wonwoo is nice until someone tries to steal you from him.

𐙚🧸ྀི lee jihoon

jihoon does not give a fuck whether you help someone or if someone helps you. for one, it’s just basic manners to help someone if they’re struggling, and why would he get jealous over you peeling a shrimp of all things. he doesn’t really get the whole perilla leaf debate either, it’s just plainly stupid to make a discours over two leaves sticking together as if that could determine the loyalty of your partner.

𐙚🧸ྀི lee seokmin

seokmin’s first reaction would be to pout, because it looked kind of intimate how you helped your friend, and from anyone else’s perspective it looked like you and your friend were together, and not you and him (and as a romantic soul, he can’t help but be a bit sad because of that). but then a realisation would quickly dawn upon him - you were helping your friend because you cared about them, you were paying attention to them, and your first and only reaction was to immediately help them. so in the end dk kind of melts over you , and your attentiveness.

𐙚🧸ྀི kim mingyu

my man does not care, he’s there for the food. so what if you help someone, or someone helps you, you’re all friends, right? it’s kind of stupid to get jealous over a literal leaf or a shrimp, like - if you help someone out it means you’re polite, and that you pay attention to those around you, which mingyu finds so much more attractive than being territorial over your partner. as someone whose main love language are acts of service, mingyu is all for helping those around you.

𐙚🧸ྀི xu minghao

doesn’t care either. even if said friend would have troubles with peeling the perilla leaf, and would ask you for help just to flirt with you, hao would not care at all. he is too confident in your relationship, like the trust he has in you and your love is so hot. besides, using a literal leaf as an excuse to flirt is pathetic. either way - flirting or not, minghao would not pay any attention to you peeling the leaf or a shrimp. 

𐙚🧸ྀི boo seungkwan

wouldn’t say anything out loud, but would definitely side eye the person that would ask you for your help with the shrimp. like, can’t you just peel it yourself? you really have to ask my partner to do it for you? but seungkwan wouldn’t make a scene out of it, it’s not that serious anyway, so why waste his energy on a shrimp. there’s a small chance boo would give you an attitude for a while, though, but that’s just because he wants your attention on him, not on someone that’s not able to peel a shrimp on their own.

𐙚🧸ྀི vernon chwe

vernon would not even notice you helping your friend with the leaf, because it’s literally your friend - he’d do the same if he saw someone struggling. we know he’s very laid back about this kind of stuff, it’s not like you’re going to fall in love with your friend just because of a leaf or a shrimp, so it’s not something he would pay much attention to. 

𐙚🧸ྀི lee chan

would probably swat your hand away from peeling that shrimp, not because he’s jealous or bothered by it - but because he wants you to keep eating your own food. chan is a little love bug that thrives off helping those around him, so in general he would not mind you helping others, whether it’d be peeling perilla leaves, shrimps, and whatnot. but he would still gently take your hand away, and encourage you to eat, and he’d help the person in need himself.

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[eddiegettingshot]

i'd love it if you reposted it! thank you so much 💚

all 2.8k (+ nsfw) beneath the cut just for you <3 <3 <3 we'll see if i ever come back to it

Despite being caught in a perpetual rush of his own making, Eddie is very rarely late. He’s always a little bit convinced that he might be, though, which is why it’s so endearing that every day, without fail, he finds the time to text: Morning, Buck.

Sometimes, Buck likes to wonder where Eddie had paused in his routine to make that kind of room for him. 

It could never be right after waking up, of course, but maybe he’d tapped it out one-handed as he brushed his teeth. Just before calling for Christopher to get out of bed, since Chris frequently sleeps through all three of his alarms. While waiting for his bagel to pop out of the toaster, or maybe after burning something on the stove, because it’s possible that he’d look at the remains of his breakfast in his pan and think, It’s easier when Buck’s around to make my eggs. 

Buck imagines this most often, even if it’s the least likely scenario.

He could have also decided to text right after he finished making his bed; in the middle of trying to find his misplaced wallet, which is usually forgotten in a pocket somewhere, although in that case he’d complain and ask Buck if he had any fucking idea where it could be; or once he was finally, firmly behind the wheel of his truck, about to put on the shitty country playlist he listens to on the road. The options are endless.

Buck’s phone vibrates, like clockwork. He closes his eyes. 

Apropos of nothing—nothing at all—he decides it’s possible that Eddie has just finished working out, which means he’s about to get into the shower, because he’s hot and sweat-damp all over. He’s probably peeled his shirt off already, if he’d deigned to wear one at all, after which he’d raked his hair out of his eyes and, still panting, remembered Buck.

Yeah, that’s probably it. That’s what’s most likely. Eddie’s been working out a lot. Probably what inspired that dream, too—the first one Buck’s had in months. Just him, processing all the ways Eddie’s changed lately. 

He sighs. He has to wipe himself clean before he can respond.

***

Most of Buck’s dreams are not about Eddie. The dreams that are about Eddie tend to hurt, leaving him off-kilter until the real thing, flesh and blood and smiling mouth, recenters him. 

He wonders if Eddie’s the same way. It would explain the ritual text, if the habit were a Hope you’re not actually dead! thing rather than the My best friend is always on my mind! thing Buck accidentally turned it into, as he does. He’d be okay if it were the former; he understands the impulse all too well, since he’d nursed a similar compulsion with Bobby for the same reason in the surreal months following his coma.

But, admittedly, it’d be better if Eddie loved him enough to think of him, always. 

Anyway, because dream-Eddie is generally riddled with bullets or riddled with bullets and drowning or otherwise suffering some amalgamation of all the terrible things Buck’s ever seen, it’s far less disturbing when Buck’s subconscious paints a picture of them sleeping together.

At least the version of Eddie who fucks him doesn’t exist, and never has.

***

He knows it’s Eddie marrow-deep, the way anyone knows anything in a dream.

Buck opens his eyes to light everywhere, so radiant the entire bedroom shimmers, a pale beam of it crossing Eddie’s long golden fingers where they’re clasped around Buck’s forearms to keep him in place. Eddie’s draped along his back, unapologetic about letting Buck, prone and practically immobilized, bear his full weight. Buck can’t see him, and he doesn’t say a word, just rubs his mouth into the spot beneath Buck’s ear and digs his thumbs into the insides of Buck’s wrists, but Buck is certain Eddie’s smiling. His mustache, which he’d long-since shaved in real life, is bristly, but nice. Really nice. Softer than Buck had thought it would be.

Then there’s the matter of Eddie’s cock, which he rocks slowly into the cleft of Buck’s ass. Buck can’t see that either, but it feels nice, too, stiff and hot and already soaked at the head. Buck tries to arch into him, give him something else, make it better; Eddie just laughs and keeps working him into the mattress, a lazy pantomime of a real fuck.

Dissatisfied, Buck struggles beneath him. Eddie bites him at the nape like an animal, hard enough to sting, and flattens his chest between Buck’s shoulder blades to settle him. He flexes his grip on Buck’s arms. Trapped like this, Buck can feel all of him: his ribs expand, and his belly presses into Buck’s spine as he sighs. 

The restlessness—whatever it is, that under-the-skin itch to stay in motion—drains away, defeated by Eddie’s wordless command. Buck sighs, too, turning his cheek into the pillow. 

The thing is, he knows it’s Eddie because it couldn’t be anyone else. 

“Good. That’s good,” Eddie says, low, dragging kisses across Buck’s jaw and cheek.

Buck’s not even doing anything. Eddie won’t let him, so he doesn’t try—even as mouthwatering want seizes his gut and pours blistering heat through his pelvis. He can’t stop shifting his erection against the sheets. The praise still doesn’t feel entirely unearned.

“It’d be better,” Buck says, “if you would actually put it in.”

“We ain’t got time for that,” Eddie says. Then (and he’s definitely smiling—the shape of it curls around his words): “Morning, Buck.”

It’s the familiar, beloved rasp of Eddie’s voice, that mundanity paired with getting almost-fucked, that makes Buck groan with impatience and spread his thighs. A blunted ache throbs behind Buck’s sternum. It’s dirty to let himself be overpowered this way, he thinks, except for that it feels closer to being held than pinned. With Eddie—his warm skin, his steady breath—it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

“Come on, Eddie,” he says. “Quit humping me.” 

“That’s usually my line.”

“Woof,” Buck huffs, and they both laugh—Eddie’s, shaky and breathless, his cock nudging right where Buck needs him; Buck’s, a little awed over this quotidian exchange alone. 

Buck noses to the side and opens his mouth against the back of Eddie’s hand, licking at the thin salty skin. He imagines there’s a vein there. He imagines he can feel the blood inside of it pulsing on his tongue—onto his tongue—and follows it to Eddie’s knuckles. Scraping his teeth over them, he tries again: “We could make time.”

“You might be off today, but I’m gonna be late for my shift,” Eddie says. He’s wrong. He’s never late. Buck hitches his ass up, insistently seeking contact.

Eddie groans, long-suffering, dropping his over-warm face into Buck’s shoulder.

“You won’t. And if you are, I—I’ll tell Cap it was my fault,” Buck coaxes. 

He doesn’t have to, since Eddie’s already letting go of him, spitting into his palm, drawing away just enough to reach down, wet his dick, and guide it firmly into place. But it’s nice to beg so freely, even nicer to chase down that singular moment where Eddie gives in. To keep pushing, just because he can—because Eddie allows it, every time.

“Please don’t,” Eddie snorts. He rubs up against Buck’s hole, purposeful rather than teasing now, and Buck shivers, clenching under the contact. “I’m pretty sure that breaks the station law against oversharing, and I don’t have enough cash left for the Buck’s Big Mouth jar.”

Buck’s shameless snickering dissolves into a wavering moan as Eddie eases forward, opening him on just the tip first. Even that feels like a lot, feels fucking good, the first couple inches igniting nerves that make the backs of his thighs tingle.

“Fuck,” he says. Whimpers, really, kind of airy and tremulous.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This what you wanted?” Eddie’s pressed all the way into him, flush with Buck’s ass. He grabs Buck around the hip to maneuver the angle, tilting him perfectly into place as if by instinct. The first firm thrust wrenches all the air from Buck’s lungs.

“Eddie,” is all he manages, naturally.

The slide is effortless, too easy with spit alone, but Eddie’s cock fills him up so well that all Buck can think is that if this is real, if this is happening, then maybe it was just meant to be right here, taking up all this space inside him, and that Eddie was meant to be here, too, the whole of his body an anchor. His hips begin to snap, hard and focused enough to get Buck panting. 

“W—Wait,” Buck gasps. “Go slow.”

Eddie obliges, of course. He kisses the nape of Buck’s neck, the sore spot he’d used to bully Buck into submission before. It tickles. 

“Slower,” he begs—for the first time in his life, probably. It’s a sudden, inconvenient desire, considering they really don’t have much time. 

Incredulous but uneven, Eddie asks, “Seriously?” 

Buck grins. “Yeah,” he says.

Eddie’s got a grounding hand clamped tight and high on Buck’s waist, fingertips hooking beneath his ribs. Buck reaches around, takes him by the wrist, and guides that hand up to his throat, choking off his own desperate moaning mostly because he knows Eddie finds it unbearably hot. 

“Buck,” Eddie maybe mumbles, although it’s hard to decipher through the hazy head rush. He gives Buck a loving squeeze, but that’s not enough; after squeezing his wrist in return, Buck tugs him up until he can wrap his lips around Eddie’s forefingers and suck. 

He’d asked for slow, so Eddie’s barely even fucking him anymore. His hips remain crushed to Buck’s ass; he’s rocking forward in small, tight motions like there’s any way to get deeper. There isn’t, there can’t be. Stretched raw, speared apart, Buck already feels disassembled. 

Eddie shifts, and it’s—“There, right there,” Buck groans, garbled with his mouth full, but Eddie understands. 

He must take it as, like, permission, or something—God, that’s a nice idea—because he presses down on the ridge of Buck’s bottom teeth and pushes his nose against Buck’s ear and gives it to him. No more of that indolent grinding; he slams in, smooth and ceaseless, unforgiving on Buck’s prostate.

“I love you,” Eddie says, hoarse with sudden emotion. “You know that?” 

Fuck, yes—with Eddie’s broad, calloused palm holding his jaw fast, and Eddie’s fingers down his throat, and Eddie’s sweaty cheek brushing his, and Eddie’s big cock ripping him wide, he does. He feels it everywhere. He cries out, muffled, guttural, and deliriously pleased as the heat builds. 

“Answer me,” Eddie murmurs. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. A strand of drool keeps them connected to Buck’s lower lip. One particularly rude thrust punches a strangled noise out of him. 

“Fuck, Eddie, I—I know.”

“What do you know?”

“You love me,” Buck says. “I know you love me.”

“That’s right,” Eddie says, pressing a sloppy, proprietary kiss under Buck’s ear. “I love you, Buck.”

“I want—”

“You ready to come?”

“Yeah,” Buck moans, and then, “No, I—” 

Somehow, with Eddie surrounding him, it hadn’t occurred to Buck how badly he needed to breathe his air and touch him, too—to kiss his mouth, taste the sweat on his mustache. To thumb at his furrowed brow. To watch him come and bask in the blazing heat of his satisfaction. 

Eddie would like it—filling Buck up, flooding him inside. He does like it. Doesn’t he? Likes laying his claim, more than anything. 

That’s what it really is, after all, when he gives Buck his cock, and his come, and his bite, and his hand around Buck’s throat, and every spare, hard-won minute he’s got. I love you really means that Buck’s his to keep, and Eddie even says that in his sleep sometimes, mumbled into Buck’s hair and occasionally broken by his embarrassing snoring. 

He must like that Buck belongs to him. He has to. More than anything, Buck needs to look Eddie in the eye when he says everything he wants to say, so he can be absolutely certain of this. He was certain, a moment ago, but Eddie’s grasp on him is weakening, or maybe Buck’s slipping out of his hold. 

Buck tries to tell him, “I want to see you.”

Ideally, Eddie will grin when Buck turns in the cage of his arms and begs: Don’t go anywhere. I love you, too. Let’s just do this forever. I can take it. He’ll make that sound he makes, that quietly amused “Hm,” that has a million meanings, all of which Buck has memorized. He’ll dutifully argue that they’d probably miss their real life eventually—plus they’ve got a mortgage to pay and Buck would get bored without the thrill of saving lives. Eddie’s good at choosing the right moment to be a little bit terrible, so he’ll grab Buck by the thighs to stifle any retort, haul him into position to pound him just right, and say something irresistibly dirty, like, Give it to me, sweetheart, show me how you come. 

And Buck would. He’s already close; it’s knifing through his belly, the only palpable feeling left—

Forget an orgasm; he doesn’t even get to roll over before the whole scene washes away, taking Eddie with it.

Panting, Buck blinks the afterimage of Eddie’s hands out of his head, but he can’t banish the thought that he wouldn’t let Eddie try to convince him of anything. He’d pull him down, kiss him hard, lick his canine teeth, and plead again, and again, and again, until Eddie agreed to use his body as a dwelling; to live inside him, and nowhere else.

***

It’s not weird that he jerked off. 

The dream was near-cinematic and left him with a desperate hard-on; he obviously couldn’t walk into work in that state. And, actually, in a way it’s less weird that he’d jerked off thinking of Eddie over anybody else. He’d bet real money that anyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds in close proximity with Eddie has done the same. Buck is a self-respecting bisexual man and Eddie is devastating on his worst days; of course the image of him ruddy-cheeked and slick with sweat was going to get Buck across the finish line in—what, thirty pathetic seconds?

In fact, it turns out that envisioning Eddie was the most efficient choice, given that he walks into the station just shy of being late. 

He changes quickly, then heads out to the apparatus bay, where Bobby is currently holding court. Eddie’s eyes barely flicker as he slides over on the stairs to make room for Buck to settle in beside him. 

“Morning, Buck,” he says.

Buck’s stomach tenses. 

“H—Hey,” he responds, in the tone and cadence of someone who did not recently shoot off so hard he might have actually shed a tear, and all to the echo of dream-Eddie—only dream-Eddie—saying that exact thing. The corner of Eddie’s lips twitch as he restrains his smile; it’d have been imperceptible were Buck not already looking at it—his mouth, that is. 

He should probably stop doing that. Bobby gives him a good reason to turn away. 

Over the course of their morning briefing, Eddie begins to lean into Buck. He shuffles his feet until his legs are angled open wide and he and Buck are pressed together from their knees all the way down to the sides of their boots. Buck glances over occasionally, and Eddie notices each time; he doesn’t say anything, though, and doesn’t seem to think anything of it, his expression mostly unchanging. In every halfway moment between meeting Eddie’s eye and returning his attention to where it belongs, Buck is compelled to look down into the space between Eddie’s thighs, where his interlaced hands hang loosely. Those hands were all he’d gotten to see of Eddie, in the dream—all he’d gotten to touch and taste.

He wonders at Eddie’s fingers, how the shape of them would fit his mouth. Eddie’s knuckles digging into his hard palate. The unyielding edge of bone between his teeth. Would they make him gag? Would he care if they did? Probably not. There’s a small, still-fresh cut disappearing into the web between Eddie’s middle and ring fingers. The moment Buck imagines probing his tongue against it, he swallows hard against the feeling that there’s an immovable smoldering coal lodged in his esophagus, radiating unpleasant heat through his chest. 

Buck rubs his palm absently from his collarbone to his heart and back up again to scratch at his neck. He doesn’t realize he’s begun to chew his thumbnail ragged until Eddie nudges an elbow into his side to get him to quit. 

For some reason, he mumbles, “Sorry.” Eddie tilts his head and half-smiles, silently accepting this nonspecific and entirely unnecessary apology. Buck can bite his nails if he wants, but he shoves his hands into his pockets to stave off the urge.

[anonymousewrites]

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom Christmas Special

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Christmas Special

            “Is this place really so new to Tamaki? Don’t rich people have Christmas events?” said Haruhi.

            Tamaki had insisted on bringing the Host Club to a commoner’s Christmas Market, so there they were. The lights were dazzling, sweet scents wafted from every corner, and couples and families were walking around together as far as the eye could see. Stalls were set up for every type of gift and cultural holiday food imaginable, and Tamaki was intent on experiencing every single aspect of the market.

            “Christmas events are times for networking,” said (Y/N). “Businesses getting togehtr for goodwill. Gifts show off their wealth and are all tailor-made for each person. They’re not bought where there’s stuff for random people like a place like this.”

            “That’s…impersonal,” said Haruhi.

            “It’s not necessarily impersonal,” said (Y/N). “People can get individualized gifts that their loved ones appreciate. However, Tamakis family…falls on the impersonal.” They smiled. “That’s why he wants to do this with all of us.”

            “Oh,” said Haruhi, looking at Tamaki as he showed off two hats to the twins and shoved them on their heads to “tell the difference.”

            “Takashi, help me reach the tree,” said Honey.

            Mori lifted him up so he could put the star on a small tree.

            “Haruhi, come and look at the gingerbread houses! Teach me how to make one!” said Tamaki.

            “We’re going to make a castle,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

            Tamaki suddenly looked alarmed. “We have to beat them, Haruhi!” He grabbed her arm. “Come on, come on!” He dragged her over towards the stalls while Haruhi flailed and reached towards (Y/N) for help.

            (Y/N) just chuckled and waved. “Bye, Haruhi.”

            “Wait, no, senpai, help!”

            “Merry Christmas,” sang (Y/N) playfully.

            “Leaving her to fend for herself against Tamaki, how cruel,” said Kyoya.

            “Says our resident Scrooge,” said (Y/N). “At least I went along with Tamaki’s Santa-hat theme.” They smiled. “If you don’t go along with him this year, he’ll put you in a Grinch costume.”

            Kyoya smiled coldly. “He wouldn’t dare.”

            Okay, maybe not, thought (Y/N), a shiver going down their spine. “Well, I plan to enjoy myself. My aunt and uncle love these things. We have a ton of ornaments from people we know because of these stalls, and it means our tree is filled with memories. I want to find another one to remember today with the Host Club.”

            “I’ll accompany you,” said Kyoya. He had no reason to follow Tamaki—he had enough people for his hijinks—so he would go with (Y/N) into the market.

            The pair walked in together, and (Y/N) led the way to the craft stalls filled with ornaments.

            “What would fit us all? A giant heart for flirting with girls?” joked (Y/N).

            “What about money if you’re going in that direction?” said Kyoya.

            “Okay, maybe not,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “What if you got an ornament for each host?” said Kyoya.

            “I don’t have the money for that,” said (Y/N) casually. “That’s for gifts.”

            “I’ll pay for them,” said Kyoya.

            “And I pay you back with interest?” said (Y/N).

            Kyoya smiled “innocently.” “That would hardly be in the Christmas spirit.”

            “And you’re embracing it now?” said (Y/N), amused.

            “Why not?” said Kyoya. His smile turned slightly more genuine. “It’s not my tree they’re going on.”

            “Okay, then.” (Y/N) smiled. “If you’re going to help pay, then you have to help pick. That’s the rule.”

            “Very well,” said Kyoya, oddly endeared.

            “Now, Tamaki first,” said (Y/N).

            “Obviously the crown,” said Kyoya. “He insists on calling himself the ‘King.’ ”

            “He does,” chuckled (Y/N), picking up the ornament. “Oh, here’s a piece of cake.”

            “Honey, undoubtedly,” said Kyoya.

            “His is the most obvious,” said (Y/N). “And a katana for Mori. I’ll hang them together.”

            “How about the comedy and tragedy masks for the twins?” said Kyoya.

            “I like it,” said (Y/N), adding to the small pile. “I think the vase for Haruhi.”

            Kyoya smirked. “Very appropriate.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Now it’s you…Hm…Glasses or journal. Both are just so you. Or how about a snake? You are the Shadow King, and everyone knows you plant all of the ideas for Tamaki.”

            “Amusing. Should you be the seventies disco ball based on your style, then?” said Kyoya with the same smile of innocence.

            “You joke, but I like it,” said (Y/N). “And I’m choosing the snake for you.”

            “I certainly can’t stop you,” said Kyoya. Except he could. He was paying, after all. But he wouldn’t.

            “You can’t because it’s Christmas,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “I guess I did get into the spirit somewhat,” said Kyoya, handing them the disco ball ornament. His hand brushed theirs. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

            “Merry Christmas, Kyoya. Thanks for going around with me,” said (Y/N).

            “Of course. Anytime.” Strangely enough, Kyoya meant it.

Taglist:

@roo024

@jmclouds

@yappydoo

@ramblingsoftheill

@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

@ritzes28

@grippledee-galaxy

@rory-cakes

@neenieweenie

@k03ume

@constellationguy

@paastaboi

@introvertathome

@chaseyui

[rom-e-o]

A consideration to brighten your day:

Emmrich and Wifey stretched out on the couch cuddling, Em's head resting on her chest as she strokes his head and shoulders, humming softly.

Then Manfred comes along, sees, and, like a clingy toddler pushes/pulls Emmrich up and away from Wifey's embrace. "No! Me! Me!" He quickly crawls right into Em's previous spot and settles stubbornly, and happily, there on Mum's chest. And she just laughs and comfortably snuggles him in with kisses all over his skull.

But also!

The exact same thing happening but flipped, with Manny forcing Wifey out of Papa's snuggles and replacing her.

Awwwww, this is too precious!!! 🥹💕

Wifey just stroking his hair softly, placing a kiss on his hairline and earning a besotted chuckle. They’re curled up on the chaise together after a long day. They’ve both just collapsed in a heap, tired from a long day. Maybe he and Guinevere have just come back from mingling at a long soirée, or he and Belisma are relaxing after a day of practicing funerary rites. Something that has tuckered both of them out, and requires some refueling through quality time.

The couple is lounging away, when Manfred pops his head in the door. “Papa? Mama/Mum?”

He sees them cuddling, and after only a moment, jingle-jangles his way inside. Those jeweled doorknobs (?) in his eyes rotate slightly upward.

Manfred, surprisingly strong, squeezes his way in. Emmrich gives his boy an incredulous chuckle (“Manfred, my boy, honestly!”) while Wifey just laughs. They allow themselves to be separated while Manfred settles over Wifey, cuddling like a little kitten or toddler. I feel like G’iney might be more familiar with seeing those toddler moments in him and identifying them as such (since she has siblings) but Belisma is just as amused and endeared to his antics.

W: Aww, Manfred! Why, hello there.

E: Was he jealous?

Manfred lets out a little hiss, inching closer to his mom while she laughs and leave little lipstick-marked kisses on his skull.

W: Not anymore, haha! I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid you’ve been replaced.

E: (mock offense) ‘Replaced’?

W: Look on the bright side - you were just saying how you wanted to change into your dressing gown but didn’t want to get up to do it. So, he just decided to lend a bit of a helping hand. In his own, charming way, of course.

E: As always. (Rolling his eyes with a laugh) Manfred, always so helpful.

M: (Pleased hiss)

I love little Manfred doing it to both of them, haha. Emmrich claims at first Manfred is just an apprentice and friend, but we know better. Once he and Wifey are together, I imagine some of that childlike wonder/possessiveness comes out a little bit more. And especially after Manfred gives his life for Emmrich, and he brings him back? There are many more hugs and soft gestures.

The next time, when Wifey and him and snuggling and getting ready to exchange some kisses (maybe get a little handsy) Manfred suddenly shuffles over, gloved hands going to Wifey’s shoulders. He pulls her back, and SHAMELESSLY settles right in her spot, kicking his little boot-covered feet in glee at his antics. Emmrich lets out a loud laugh and Wifey feigns shock.

E: Oh, you little scoundrel!

M: (Mischievous hiss)

W: Oh, I see how it is.

They exchange loving looks over Manfred’s giggly skull. This is their life now, they think, and honestly. It’s perfect. Emmrich settles and arm around his boy and kisses his forehead. “Oh, Manfred. Whatever in the world would we do without you?”

And neither of them will have to ever know. 💕

[lee-the-eel]

thoughts / headcanons on olivia and marina?? (if you feel comfortable sharing of course! i'm just so glad i'm not alone in thinking they're cute af together sdfskj)

absolutely! genuinely they are so cute together, I’m surprised i don’t see more people who enjoy them!

-i really enjoy the science/magic dichotomy between them, especially with olivia having some connection with vinushka. It’s fun to imagine them sharing their specialties with the other, like marina teaching olivia simple engravings or olivia showing marina plants that enhance the effectiveness of her spells

-they really like reading together, like a parallel play type thing. They also definitely go on dates to bookstores and look through everything together, maybe spending the night curled up together reading their new books

-olivia’s crush on marina was her bi awakening and it mostly results in her being really flustered around marina a lot of the time. marina doesn’t have this problem because she already knew she was queer, and finds it very endearing

-marina has a resting creepy face that makes her intimidating at first glance, but in conversation she’s super nice. olivia looks super sweet, but will sometimes say wildly creepy things in conversations out of nowhere

-olivia makes marina flower crowns

-during the festival of termina, olivia is super terrified at the beginning and marina tries to comfort/protect her. of course this totally changes when they first find a gun and olivia gets wildly more confident. marina thinks it’s badass

-post termina, i think they’d travel together to all sorts of places, and when they’re not traveling, run a little combination botany/occult shop together

Most of these headcanons are admittedly very fluffy because I think they’re a cute couple, but if prompted i could probably try and come up with some others that are more tonally like the game

[brisquad-unit-4402]

unit 4402, not to be needy in your inbox, but i haven't stopped thinking about the pliskin fic ever since i read it. it's so good. the emotional intimacy. the little snippets of their friendship before they actually meet. the stupid clumsy confession scene(s?). it's SO well-crafted, you should be a licensed writer.

alas i need pliskin!reader and ike to meet again and be horny because i think it'd be funny and endearing. they have all this emotional closeness but when it comes to actually being together irl they're suddenly shy and overwhelmed at the prospect so they act like teenagers again. i don't even need to think about the actual nsfw parts, i just love imagining them navigate this new romantic territory and being in love and making mistakes and laughing about it and being so sweet i get cavities 😔 i love them, they should be together forever i think

- anon 🦝 if i'm allowed a sign off qvq

[non-explicit nsfw under the cut]

oh 🦝 you're always allowed to sign off, i don't mind! thank you for the lovely complim—

HORNY???

🦝. you are so brave for speaking the truth.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it’s like this ok. they’re both such sweet people and genuinely want the best for each other, all this time has let them understand how they see one another and how to communicate, especially since they’re miles away from one another. every now and then the stars align and they get roped along into an off-collab with some of their other friends, and find excuses to sneak out by themselves just to spend time with each other and catch up on all the little touches they missed.

hands bumping together here, an arm around the waist there. resting on one another and taking in the scent as you wrap your arms along him. you spend a wintry week in london with half of the luxiem boys and a few other livers that want to visit, but you don’t miss how ike’s fingers brush against your neck as he places his scarf around you. the touch is brief but you have to grit your teeth as he ties the scarf, and the remains of his touch burns like coal under the fabric, unsatiated. you can’t keep your eyes off him but your hands want to explore, make him feel good.

eventually you both make time to meet up for a few days, just the two of you, discreet enough that only a few of your close friends know that you’re housing a guest at your place and your fanbases are unaware. it’s not like it was the whole point of the visit, to be clear! horny thoughts be damned, you really did want to see him again. being able to show him around your town and do the cheesy couple things—holding hands, cute dates, sharing clothes, the whole nine yards—it feels like a dream.

on that first night you agree he'll share the bed with you, and when he makes sure you're comfortable with it, he pulls his shirt up over his head and falls asleep half-naked under the covers. you wake up the next morning with a view of nothing but his chest, which pairs nicely (read: awkwardly) with the dirty dream you woke up in the middle of before you could get full closure.

you bring it up to him that very day. it starts off simple:

"do you ever want to have sex? yeah, i'm ready for it. yeah, i understand. that's what you want? i can do that.”

and it's just so easy deciding it then and there. and then he asks questions, and you're glad to receive them, and that makes you ask him about his preferences, too, and the conversation gets more intimate from there and halfway through it hits you that it's really happening and that, god, you're ready but you're not prepared at all for how bashful you're getting and he's getting bashful too and it's good information that should be out in the open and you're glad it is especially because it's important to know what is and isn't okay and he needs to know too but—phew. the conversation ends when everything's been said but your flustered face is in your hands and ike's been wiping a cleaning cloth at his glasses for the last ten minutes so he doesn't have to make eye contact.

but, well, you're both on the same page now! and the feeling is mutual.

and he's on top of you now. his glasses rest on the nightstand, and without them, his eyes are so, so clear, and bright, even as the red around his cheeks threatens to burn brighter.

"this is okay?" ike asks. one of his hands holds you down by your wrist but you can feel him tremble. he lets go to wipe his hands on the sheets. "sorry, my hands are sweaty. it's just that i've been looking forward to this for so long."

he giggles a little at his own awkwardness, and it spreads to you, too. he sounds so soft and cute. you sound like a weirdo. "oh, me too, you have no idea."

his eyes flit down. "can i take off your...?"

"yeah, you can s-strip me. if you want..."

bad choice of words. or good? you can't tell, just that it's making your heart lurch as he undoes the button. an inch of your underwear peeks out.

"oh, so you're wearing this color? it's really you," he says. it's so matter-of-fact and unsexy that you can't help but laugh. “wait, no, i mean, it’s good! i like it! they suit you—oh, forget it, i give up.”

you stay giggly while he undresses you down to the skin. you meet his lips and kiss him, soft and smiley as he shakes off the embarrassment. "never change. love you."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

ah i got carried away but what if one or both of them are virgins...

they get to explore everything for the first time and with it comes all the anticipation and surprise and pleasure of feeling it all for the first time... you know. how wet it is and where things go. how the actual action is done so soon but how long you can savor the foreplay.

and all the silliness that comes with it! it's trying something new together. every touch runs electric and it's so hard not to beam at how it feels. bonus points if they're ticklish and laugh while fucking, turning the little shivers and thrusts even more intense, all smiles and loose laughter while you enter for the first time

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[merakiui]

I've been rereading azul thought 4 and it was amazinggg!!! But I've been wondering- was Azuu really like inlove or was he just lying about it?

I've been imagining this angst scenario where instead, darling feels really distrustful and wary after he took their voice, so they're saying no to the second contract.

or if she's forced into it, shes resorting to avoiding him, not showing up to almost all of their dates to the point he's sending the tweels to retrieve her and when they're in public, she's pushing off his hands, whispering that "they can't be seen together" (just like at the start of their previous contract) because of after what happened on their previous contract, she's purely convinced that their relationship is purely contractual

- 🐙 Azul's tentacle anon

Aaaa Azul thought 4… my favorite thought I’ve ever written for him. <3 thank you so much for enjoying it!!!!!

To answer your question, he is indeed in love with you. There’s no way he could ever lie about something like that, as the entire reason he wanted you to sign a contract in the first place was so that he’d have a better chance of wooing you (though we all know he wasn’t going to go about that through natural, honest means). It’s implied Azul was only pursuing you because he wants that branch café out of Ramshackle, but Reader was too stubborn and distrustful of him to ever entertain any deals.

And though he still does want that branch café for the lounge, he loves you much more and has continued to do so with each passing day. You’ve outsmarted him once and now you continue to evade him, so naturally he’s going to fall even more in love with you and your charms! He tries to propose a deal by using the want for a branch café as an excuse to have you sign a contract, but naturally you say no. So his last resort, as seen at the start of the fic, is getting the twins to drag you to him by force (also not a very honest method… >_<) so that he can catch you when you’re vulnerable and desperately in need of a helpful, benevolent deal. :)

Throughout the entire fic, Azul is in love with you! He just hides most of his feelings, masking each under the guise of contract terms. Also, he’s terrible at expressing this love (i.e. cowardly and self-conscious) and since your relationship with him is contractual he gets away with hinting things here and there. Most, if not all, of his flirty remarks are real and come from the heart. When he calls you Miss Megamouth or clownfish, he means both lightheartedly and lovingly. They’re his terms of endearment for you, but he masks them in a playful tone so you won’t suspect there’s more to those names. Originally, I wanted him to start calling you angelfish right away, but that felt too intimate for a situation that’s built upon (supposedly) loveless sex.

It’s also why he flirts with you so much throughout the fic. T-T he’s down so bad, but he can’t risk breaking the contract terms by saying “I love you,” so instead he skirts around it with so much flirting. Also, Azul is 99% certain you’ll never reciprocate his feelings, so a confession is out of the question (hence why he cheats and uses love potions).

Ramblings aside, your angst ideas are so good omg!!!! It already hurt Azul when you avoided him for that one week in the fic, even if he knew it would happen and that it had to happen if he wanted to move forward in his plans, but it still saddened him greatly. :( so if you were to push him away, he’d be so crushed. He loves you, after all, so of course he wouldn’t want you to distance yourself. I imagine he’s still feeding you love potions to make the relationship feel authentic and so you’ll continue to reciprocate his affections. Imagine an angst situation in which you learn about this and the spell breaks and suddenly you’re freed from feeling so obsessed and in love with him, and that’s why you begin to avoid him because you feel so betrayed. Aaaaa there are so many avenues for angst with a concept like this. >:)

[newtonsheffield]

Another great update! 🫶🏻 Joan and Harold were absolutely hysterical. Do they meet Kate and Anthony again on another flight? I bet Joan would be elated to learn that they are together. Actually, Anthony should thank her because Joan told him first to tell Kate about his feelings. Even though, at that time, he hadn't thought he had any feelings towards Kate.

That’s one of the reasons I wanted to introduce Joan and Harold, apart from the fact that if this was happening on my flight I’d be obsessed with it. I love hearing the flight attendants gossip amongst themselves. Don’t know anyone that they’re talking aboutI just want to know 389% of everything going on.

But imagine Anthony seeing Joan file onto the flight, Harold in tow and Anthony sees his chance. He picks up the phone, calling the cockpit and snatching Edwina’s wrist as she passes to hold her in place.

“Everything alright babe?”

Anthony ignored the flutter in his chest at the endearment, “This could have been anyone, Captain Sharma, I’m appalled.”

“If you’re holding me here while you flirt with my sister, I’ll knee you in the balls.” Edwina hissed, “The love of my life is marrying someone else!”

Anthony waved her off as Kate chuckled, “Literally no one else ever calls me before we even take off. Do you want me to whisper in your ear Mr Bridgerton?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to have some fun this flight?”

Kate chuckled, “Quick reminder, honey, that Sophie can hear you asking me to meet you in the first class bathroom.”

“Not like that.” Anthony rolled his eyes, “Your sister’s trying to knee me in the balls.”

“He’s torturing me!”

“Just… make up something to be angry at me about in your announcement and I’ll do the rest.” Anthony rolled his eyes, jerking his head in the direction of 4D where Joan had seated herself. Edwina’s eyes lit up and she sighed.

“Finally something good happening.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Kate chuckled. “Okay, I have to fly this thing, the tower’s yelling in Sophie’s ear. Love you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Anthony hung up the phone, turning to Edwina, “Go for your life.”

Edwina slammed shut one of the drawers. “Anthony, honestly! You can’t just play with people’s lives like this! She really cares about you!”

“Oh my god, Harold! It’s them!”

Anthony bit back a grin and sighed, “It’s really complicated, Edwina!”

“It’s not! Sort yourself out!” And she strode off down the aisle clutching a blanket.

anthony watched Joan’s eyes following him intently as he strapped himself in for take off and he almost saw her jump out of her seat with excitement when Kate’s voice crackled over the PA

“Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentleman this is Captain Kate Sharma from the flight deck. Sitting to my right I have the lovely, if not slightly in denial First Officer Sophie Beckett and We’ll be taking you through to Singapore today. In the cabin today we’ve got an excellent crew, my sister Edwina who’s looking for a rebound, any eligible ladies please present yourself to Cabin manager, Anthony Bridgerton. Anthony who has refused to go to my Mother’s birthday party this weekend, even though he knew how hurtful that would be. And he never picks up his underpants!

Anthony hid his smile as he prepared the drinks trolley and Joan let out a loud gasp. “Ugh She wants more from the relationship! Harold!”

“Why are you so invested in this?!”

Mary’s birthday had been last week actually, he’d arrived with his arm around Kate’s shoulders and sat side by side with her Poppy all night.

“She’s a good girl, Anthony. I promised her Appa I’d look out for her when he passed away. But I don’t need to protect her from you, do I?”

“No Mr Sharma, Absolutely not.”

As the flight wore on Joan watched him more and more closely as Edwina nudged him viciously down the aisle with her cart.

“You’re laying it on a little thick.” Anthony hissed

“Chicken or Fish?” Edwina smiled at Joan who was watching them carefully. She turned back to Anthony, “Anthony here will get you a drink! Careful though, he likes promising people exactly what they want and then not following through!”

“Edwina, I told you before: It’s not that I don’t want to meet your Mum!”

“You won’t even admit that her son is yours!”

A collective gasp went through the passengers closest and Joan took a shuddering breath. “Oh there’s a child involved.”

There’s a corgi puppy involved, Anthony sighed internally, Who keeps chewing my shoes.

“That’s very complicated, Edwina!”

“Fine!”

It was clear that Joan was hanging around again, at the end of the flight, watching them closely as they packed away the meal services and went about the rest of the flight and finally, Anthony felt it was time for the big moment.

He snatched up the phone and cleared his throat as the PA crackled on.

“Attention, Ladies and Gentlemen! This is a message for Captain Kate Sharma.”

He could see Joan throw her headphones off, leaning forward in her seat.

“Kate, I love you! I love you, and I know that Newton’s my son, I don’t care what your Auntie says, I’m not too short for you! I love you!”

The cockpit door swung open dramatically and Kate appeared, her eyes dancing with delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“Very dramatic.” Kate whispered against his lips as Joan erupted into applause. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Apparently.”

[plague-karm]

Fuck it more Summer Solstice stuff because I’m bored and I like writing these two a lot.

Carissa was panicking, badly. Two of the rabbits were missing! She looked everywhere! She asked everyone! Gabriel looked with her and he couldn’t find them! Her sisters couldn’t find them either! What was she going to do?! The other rabbits were worried for her, they didn’t like seeing their mama so distressed…

Her weariness brought her to Greed, she needed to calm herself down…when she stepped into the temple however she was met with a sight that was as relieving as it was confusing. The two lost rabbits! They were here! Sisyphus took notice of her frazzled state and immediately got up to tend to her.

“What happened? Were you hurt? Tell me who it was and I will-“

“THEY WERE HERE THE WHOLE TIME?!”

He flinched, normally he’d be prepared for such an outburst but she had never raised her voice to him before. He put his hands up and responded in protest.

“My love what are you talking about-“

“I’ve been looking for them all day! I sent you a letter about it this morning!”

“How did you send it?”

“…That’s not important!”

“…It was through the abandoned outpost wasn’t it?”

“Well…now that you mention it…yes but-“

He burst out laughing, Carissa responded defensively

“Oh hush I don’t leave my sanctuary often I couldn’t tell it was abandoned! They all look the same! How do you even know what it looks like?”

“I have my ways my treasure”

She approached the little ones and pet them gently

“Oh little ones how did you even get here? I can’t imagine what could’ve happened if you were spotted…”

“I’m curious about that as well. They just danced their way inside like they owned the place, I tried looking for you but you were nowhere to be found”

“Little ones why didn’t you tell me where you were going I’ve been worried sick!”

The rabbits looked at each other and spoke to her in little squeaky voices, Sisyphus couldn’t understand a word, but Carissa had been their caretaker for so long that she understood it all. It was endearing to watch in all honesty.

“Aww…”

“What is it?”

“I come here that often with them that…well, they thought it would be okay to just show up”

Okay he had to admit that was quite cute, he’d never say it out loud though. Carissa tried to sound as stern as she could but she was failing miserably.

“Little ones I’m okay with you coming here but you need to tell me first!”

“Listen to your mother lagomorphs”

They nodded and went back to what they were doing, which was going around the room and doing binkies.

“…What were they doing before I came?”

“They fought”

“They’re still young that’s normal”

“…”

“…You watched them didn’t you?”

“No, don’t be foolish”

“And you said you didn’t like them all that much~”

“I never said that, I just said that I would prefer it if they didn’t venture everywhere, trying to herd them when they’re all together is a nightmare”

“Hm~?”

“Stop smirking”

“I know you care~”

“Hmph…”

“Go on~ say it~”

He mumbled

“I care about the creatures…”

“I can’t hear you~”

He cleared his throat and spoke clearer

“I care about the creatures”

She clapped happily, looking pleased that he had finally warmed up to them, one of them wanted to be held and held they will be.

“They always catch up to you when you least expect it”

“I’m aware dearest”

The rabbits eventually went to sleep and Carissa wrapped them up in a small blanket.

“The care you show for creatures that are weaker than yourself is contagious”

“You CAN just call them cute hon”

“Hm…no”

“Suit yourself, I need to take them back upstairs soon, they get homesick”

“So that’s why they never stay over night…”

“I’ll be back soon”

“Oh don’t worry I know you will~”

She came back a while later, her hair was undone and she looked quite tired

“I suppose they were more of a handful tonight?”

“No…I was questioned”

He paused, he looked at her with grave concern, he wasn’t concerned about being found out, hell, he saw it as another act of spite towards heaven, making someone as worshipped as her fall for him. But he knew there were a LOT more risks for her, and she didn’t have much agency when it came to combat.

“By who?”

He sounded worried, something that caught her off guard, something about him of all people sounding unsure disturbed her.

“Gabriel, he’s noticing a pattern…he asked where I was going, I just said that I was going to get more greens for the little ones”

“And he believed you?”

“…”

“Carissa. Did he believe you?”

“Yes, he left me to my own devices after that”

He took a sigh of relief.

“I might have to visit at a different time…use a different route maybe”

That quickly changed to a sigh of frustration, damn angels…she held his hand.

“I know it’s frustrating but-“

“It is. You are ABOVE them, you have more power than ANY of them, your sanctuary is ABOVE heaven yet they keep you chained…why should it even bother them…? If you were one of their own then maybe but you’re NOT…”

“…You’re upset we can’t be open about this, aren’t you?”

He was about to protest, but she was right. It wasn’t her fault, but to tell the truth…he was terrified of what could happen to her…she may be a being of high standing but she was still fallible, capable of being hurt, capable of being killed. And the last thing he wanted was for her to be killed by THEM, if she was going to die he’d rather it be here.

“…I hate it when you’re right”

“I’m bothered too…I hate sneaking around, it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong even though I’m not…I feel like I’m lying to everyone…my sisters, Gabriel…”

“I know that you’re close but he’s still part of the problem”

“Please Sisyphus just let me finish”

He gently put her in his lap as he returned to his throne, growing weary due to the stress of losing her to THEM. Him? Sure, lock him up and throw away the key, he didn’t care, but she was too good for that, he’d rather die than let that happen.

“But I’m still happy I can see you, you’ve been in my life for so long that I can’t think of one without you”

“Me too…I…”

He always struggled with stuff like this, flirtation? He could do that all day. Flattery? He could run rings around almost anyone. Genuine forms of worded affection without a hint of teasing? Fuck.

“…I’ve been here for so long, it’s my pride along with my scars, you…”

He sounded hesitant, she held his hand again, she knew how hard this was, how much distrust he had in others outside of his layer and a very small circle of people outside of it. She wanted him to let it out.

“Make me feel more at ease with myself…with this life, I wish I could give you more…I’ve always been tempted to show you off, I know I can’t but it’s always been in the back of my mind. And I’ve always been fascinated by your form…”

He stroked her cheek as gently as he could, she smiled, she admired his strength but she admired his patience even more.

“You look so human…you’re warm…”

“Of course I’m warm silly it’s always hot here”

“No, your warmth is different”

“I see, this is probably my favourite form to take, it’s the most comfortable at least…I’m flattered you like it so much”

He paused and looked down at her

“…What?”

“Oh, this is just the form I take on so no one gets scared, I greet a lot of people when they enter heaven and I want them to be met with something familiar”

The two looked at each other in silence for a solid 30 seconds before Carissa spoke up and realised what was going through his mind.

“…You…didn’t actually think this was my real form, did you?”

“Yes…?”

“I thought all the higher ups in hell had true forms? Medusa has one”

“She’s a special case, I am stuck like this for as long as I live”

“It’s not the worst form to be stuck in”

“I know, but that still means a lot coming from you”

“Hm…”

“…Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“What you actually look like”

“Oh! Well I-I’m not really sure that’s the best idea, it’s something most people can’t really comprehend and it ends up making them very confused”

“But I’m not some people, am I? We’ve known each other for so long…and I can handle a lot worse than the abstract nature of holy vessels”

“…Are you sure?”

“I’m positive”

“Okay, if you get uncomfortable I’ll stop”

She unsheathed her true form…wow. He wasn’t really sure what to expect but it wasn’t that, he could look at her all night and not get tired, it was hypnotising, was that her intent? To catch him off guard? Because it was definitely working, she eventually returned to her human form and nestled back into his lap.

“It was nice to have a stretch, I haven’t done that in a while-…Sisyphus?”

He was still entranced, oh god, she knew this was going to happen…how was she going to snap him out of it? She tried slapping him a few times, no results, a few kisses here and there, still nothing, oh no, he can’t remain rendered a statue! She had to do something!

And then she had an idea, she went over to one of his nearby gold stashes, she knew how protective he was over these, so she gave one of the many coins that were laid out a slight tap and that was enough to snap him out of it.

Turning to the sound with a harsh glare before realising it was her, he quickly calmed down and she giggled softly

“There’s a reason I don’t show it often”

“Indeed…it’s…effective…”

“Are you okay?”

“…Yes just…give me a minute before we go to bed”

“Alright”

That night as he slept Carissa lay beside him, wide awake, hugging his arm as she thought back to the exchange she had with Gabriel…in reality he was quite close to finding out the truth, but she managed to speak convincingly enough that he left without pushing further…she hated doing this. She hated the fact that all of the people she loved were on opposing sides, she hated lying to them, she felt like she was becoming what her father feared all of his creations to be, failures with the gift of free will and the curse of besmirching it at every turn.

No, they had been together for this long, this doubt will pass, nothing bad will come of this, nothing awful any way, Sisyphus said it himself, she was more powerful than heaven…her sisters however…they looked down at hell every chance they got, sickened at its very existence, of those who resided there, but then again…she was like that too before she went down here herself.

Would they be as willing to change as she did though? That was a thought that always prevented her from going through with that plan, she needs to stop thinking like this, this is fine, everything is fine, nothing bad will happen, no one has to know, this will pass.

This. Will. Pass.

[toadspondofwhimsy]

Harvest Moon – Charlie Bradbury

SUMMARY: Phoenix and Charlie are on another date, this time they’re apple picking and baking a pie together. Their friends join in to eat some pie with them. PAIRING: Charlie Bradbury x gn!Original Character WARNINGS: original character pairing, swearing, very lazily edited. WORD COUNT: ~1.4k A/N: divider cred: thecutestgrotto

Phoenix and Charlie walked through the orchard hand in hand. The breeze rustled through the leaves and carried the sweet scent of apples. Charlie squeezed Phoenix’s hand affectionately causing them to smile that cute lopsided smile that never ceased to make Charlie’s heart flutter. 

“What else do you have planned for our Harvest Moon celebration?” Charlie asked. She wasn’t a spiritual person, she took pleasure in nerdy things like Comic-Con and LARPing, but she was glad to celebrate anything with Phoenix. 

“Now we’ll make something with these apples,” Phoenix explained as they raised the large paper sack full of beautifully red apples. “I thought you could choose whatever we make, I made a cobbler last year,” they added. 

Charlie looked off into the distance as the pair continued to walk through the trees. It was a habit she had whenever she was thinking about something. Phoenix found it endearing, they liked that Charlie took the time to think of the possibilities instead of just blurting an answer out. 

When they approached the store front of the orchard Phoenix placed the sack onto the scale, Charlie gave her answer as she looked at the goodies that were being offered. “What if we made an apple pie,” she mused.

“I think we’d be the favorite couple in the bunker tonight,” Phoenix smiled over at Charlie before completing their transaction with the farmer.

“Perfect,” Charlie responded with a sly grin, “that’ll soften their hearts when I beat them all in Magic tonight.” 

Phoenix laughed heartily, the sound brought a glowing smile to Charlie’s face.

“Dean’s a sore loser no matter what,” Phoenix said, still amused.

“You’re right about that, quickest way to see a grown man pout is to beat him in something,” Charlie added before laughing. Phoenix joined in on the laughter, imagining Dean’s freckled face pouting after losing any kind of competition.

Back at the bunker, Charlie and Phoenix worked diligently in the kitchen. Charlie was rolling out the pie dough while Phoenix cored and diced the apples. The pair worked in harmony, the sounds of their chatter and laughter filled the space. Soon enough the air smelled of cinnamon and apples as Phoenix prepared the apple pie filling on the stove. Charlie laid the rolled-out dough in the pie dish. She stuck her nose in the air and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet and spicy scent. She hummed her approval and wrapped her arms around Phoenix’s waist, getting flour all on their shirt. 

Phoenix grinned at Charlie’s touch, “hi, sweetie.” 

“Hey,” Charlie whispered back, resting her head against Phoenix’s back.

Phoenix continued to stir the mixture on the stovetop though they were careful not to disturb Charlie’s hold on them. “Whatcha doin’,” Phoenix questioned.

“Just waiting for the filling so we can finish making the pie,” Charlie answered.

“You might be in luck,” Phoenix surmised. They scooped up a spoonful of apple pie filling and gently blew on it. They turned to face Charlie and she took a small step back allowing Phoenix the space to move. Phoenix held the spoon up to Charlie’s mouth, “let me know if it’s missing anything.” 

Charlie wrapped her lips around the spoon, taking the sweet mixture on her tongue. She hummed and gave Phoenix a thumb’s up, “doesn’t need a thing.” 

Phoenix smiled brightly, showing off their chipped tooth. Charlie smiled back, “you’re so adorable.” 

“Oh, stop,” Phoenix blushed, not used to such attention from a beautiful lady.

“Never,” Charlie teased and grabbed the filling off the stove and began to put it into the pie dish. 

Phoenix turned off the stove and leaned against the counter. They admired Charlie as she finished putting the pie together. He auburn hair sat in a messy bun, some loose strands collected around her face. Phoenix moved closer to Charlie and gently pressed a kiss to her temple. She giggled and looked up at her adorable partner before pulling them into a sugary kiss. Phoenix chuckled against her lips. When they pulled away Charlie went back to her task at hand. 

“Were you stealing bites of filling over here?” Phoenix questioned. 

Charlie grinned at them before moving towards the preheated oven with the assembled pie. “What makes you think that,” Charlie asked.

Phoenix followed her and opened the oven door, “your kiss was unusually sweet.”

Charlie only hummed in response as she placed the unbaked pie in the oven. Phoenix shut the oven door behind her and then quickly lunged at Charlie. They wrapped an arm around the unsuspecting ginger holding her in place as Phoenix tickled her sides. Charlie’s laughter came bubbling out which caused Phoenix to smile widely. Charlie began to flail as laughter continued to escape her, she hit at Phoenix's arms and shoulders. Finally she was able to squeeze out a, “stop,” between fits of giggles. Phoenix ceased the tickling assault and instead held Charlie close in their arms. 

“I ever tell you how cute your chipped tooth is,” Charlie asked as she reached up and stroked Phoenix’s cheek. They blushed a deep red.

“No, I don’t think you have,” Phoenix muttered.

“Well, I find it adorable,” Charlie said, smiling up at Phoenix adoringly. 

The blush on their cheeks grew wider and Phoenix felt the need to create a diversion and somehow get the attention off themself. Charlie swept her fingers through Phoenix’s electric green hair and leaned forward. Phoenix met them halfway and they were swept into a tender kiss. Phoenix felt like they were floating whenever Charlie kissed them. Charlie gently bit down on Phoenix’s bottom lip causing them to sigh into the kiss. She took this opportunity to slip her tongue past their lips. Phoenix gripped onto Charlie’s hips and pulled her body flush against their own. Everything in the world slipped away as the pair stayed preoccupied in their passionate embrace. 

When the shrill beeping of the kitchen timer thrust them back into reality, the two pulled away from each other. Their lips were kiss bruised as they made their way to the oven. Charlie put on some oven mitts and retrieved the freshly baked pie. Phoenix inhaled deeply and Charlie wafted the steam coming off the apple pie towards them. 

“We did that!” Phoenix celebrated. 

Charlie held her hand up for a high-five, “fuck, yeah, we did!”

The aroma of fresh baked apple pie of course brought some visitors to the kitchen. Dean clambered in with a frazzled looking Cas hot on his heels. 

“Pie!” Dean declared as he went straight to the baked good. His nose was dangerously close to the delectable sight before him. 

“When do I get to eat it?” Dean questioned with a slight whine to his voice. 

Charlie moved the pie out of sniffing and biting range causing Dean to straighten up. 

“Who said we’re sharing,” Charlie teased.

Phoenix snorted from where they were standing and Cas looked on with an ever stoic expression. 

“Aw, come on, you guys baked a pie in the bunker, where I live and it’s only my favorite dessert. You guys are sharing,” Dean said as he crossed his arms across his chest. 

“What if this pie was special and for someone else,” Charlie teased him further. 

“Do I need to start guilt tripping,” Dean questioned, a small smile on his face. 

Charlie and Phoenix both laughed and Cas cracked a smile. Everyone knew Dean was good at guilt tripping, he’s done enough good for his friends and the world as well as had enough bad happen to him. It gave him multiple angles to come from, he certainly deserved some homemade pie. 

“When it’s cool, you can eat some pie,” Charlie said, “you know I was just messin’ with you.” 

Dean smiled and pulled Charlie into a lazy hug, “ah, the little sis I never had.”

“Good thing too, we would have joined forced to annoy you,” Sam said when he entered the kitchen, having joined the kitchen crew at the tail end of the conversation. 

“Without a doubt, you two would have driven me crazy,” Dean chuckled. 

As the conversation continued, everyone joking and laughing together, Phoenix dished out a slice of warm apple pie to everyone present. Even Cas enjoyed it, stating the molecules were arranged beautifully. This statement, of course, confused Phoenix and Dean said he’d explain later. Sam saved a slice for Eileen upon Charlie’s insistence. The motley crew of friends enjoyed their evening and throughout it all, Phoenix couldn’t keep their eyes off Charlie in her radiant beauty.

[weewitch004]

Kavin x Kaning Requests

I’m begging y’all please write fanfics based on these (please longer ones, but not necessarily multi chapter unless it fits the prompts). These are all Kaning and Kavin fics (each ones a separate story, but some are similar if you wanna take inspiration from whatever you will). Please if you write them, let me know about it and how to find it!! I largely don’t care if they start off as friends and get together or stay friends and the fic just shows more tension or if they’re together and stay together, but please don’t make them end depressingly (like with them together and then broken up at the end). Also I really don’t care if multiple people write on the same thing if that’s a concern (idk).

A Kaning/Kavin fic- Kaning is the daughter of a mafia family. I imagine this as just Gorya already knowing and F4 figuring it out (maybe MJ figures it out first because of the rumors of his family’s involvement)

A Kaning/Kavin fic- Kaning is a rich heiress but no one but Gorya and the owner of the flower shop know. She doesn’t try to hide it but she also doesn’t tell others. Her family likes to stay out of the limelight and especially keeps the children fairly anonymous even from other rich families. Kaning was raised by her father from a certain age but her mother took her from him when she was born and raised her for a bit (in this time she was neglectful and borderline abusive). She also meant Gorya during this time and that’s how they became bffs even though she’s wealthy. So the fic would just be F4 finding out about her being wealthy(maybe she thought they already knew [maybe due to her blasé reaction to just giving away 4000 baht. In the show it was impulsiveness, but in this she could be rich]) and how she was raised (like how her mother treated her. Maybe her and Thyme bond). Maybe the reason she works with Gawao is because he took care of her when her mom wasn’t able to. This will probably change a few things like Kaning’s dad being fired by Roselyn. I like that in some fanfics, she’s a pianist so maybe she goes to a school for music so she’s not necessarily in a normal school, but also not in Kosher.

A Kaning/Kavin fic- takes place after they get together. Kavin being protective of Kaning - like to the point of a fight. Like Kaning’s being threatened by some guy or harassed and Kavin defends her (bonus points if the story mentions the size difference between the two and how small Kaning is. I love the height difference) and they comfort each others afterwards

A Kaning/Kavin fic- Instead of just Gorya, Kaning was also kidnapped by anti-F4 (because they realized she was also important to them, especially Kavin).

A Kaning/Kavin fic- similar to the previous prompt, someone goes after Kaning (verbally or physically) because of Kavin’s playboy past, they say some things about Kavin and Kaning defends him. He also protects her. It’s very sweet. (This could also play out like that one scene in the Nevertheless kdrama, but it actually ends in the two being a stronger place than they were before unlike in that show)

A Kaning/Kavin fic- a customer is making Kaning uncomfortable and Kavin comes in during the interaction and stays with her at the store until he leaves and afterwards to make sure she’s ok

A Kaning/Kavin fic- MJ (and/or Ren) and Kaning becoming best friends, the rest of F4 and Gorya finding it amusing/endearing, and Kavin not necessarily always loving this development in its entirety (but also sometimes still finding it cute)

A Kaning/Kavin fic- Kaning goes to Kosher with Gorya (she does not replace Hana, but instead stands alongside Gorya during that whole thing). She doesn’t necessarily get a red card, but she would try to protect Gorya which might drag her into the bullying. This is how she catches Kavin’s attention and maybe he protects her like Ren protects Gorya. The events progress like in the show. This can also incorporate the above prompt where Kaning is kidnapped alongside Gorya by anti-f4.

A Kaning/Kavin fic- takes place after they get together. Kavin takes Kaning to a club with him (I like the idea of her wearing a little black dress with a black ribbon) and Kavin doesn’t love the amount of people checking out Kaning

[taegularities]

Rid, i dunno why you apologise for writing 45k words girl, it didn’t feel like it was 45k because I want more :( Im just a greedy girl who cant get enough of you and our cmi couple 🥺

So.. where to start?? My favourite parts in the chapter that really stuck with me!

- oc showing jk the chicken “Kook! Look!” Ah she so ENDEARING

- strawberry picking and picnic ah its so sweet i’d imagine jk just being so amused to seeing oc in his hometown doing mundane things like riding a bike, holding a chick! but also he wants to teach her, show her new stuff and he’s just so in love

- the family dynamic: wow so many things to touch on idk what to say.. mum and junghyun was just so sweet to oc and went out of their way to make her feel at home and part of the family even if they barely know her. maybe they see her effect to jk that’s why they love her almost immediately. And I guessed it that oc would feel a mother’s love from jk’s mum and its sad and beautiful at the same time. I hope one day oc and her mum can find a middle ground at least

- the dad.. ok ok!! Was it just me that felt he wasn’t tHat bad? Half of the time I felt like it was actually jk who’s trying to provoke him.. maybe i have to return to that part to read again. But uhm wow there’s just so much. With the dinner scene and oc almost getting hurt. Jk was so mad (it was v v v hot too ooppss) and sad when jk was checking on her to see if she was hurt. He’d really put her welfare first before himself. 😢 what would jk do if oc got really hurt? Imagine like a wound on her cheek, she got skin burnt from the soup.. jk will really FLIP

- oc and dad’s confrontation.. damn oc really put him in his place. So brave of her to stand up to the person who hurt her beloved so much.. it takes a lot of guts! And to defend jk even if they were having her own issues with him and Nara. That’s true love! That’s what I read somewhere, that you can critique your partner in private, but in public it will always be a united front. And so its true that oc is the last puzzle to push the dad to own up to his mistakes and shortcomings

- so the apology.. maybe im just a softy.. but the dad seem so sincere to me. I know it will not be an easy repair but it is a good start isn’t it? They have to rebuild a decade of trust, love and respect and i can only hope that they can achieve that. Like jk and oc getting married someday and jk’s dad behind him, puts his hand on jk’s shoulder saying “You did well, im proud of you.” 🥺it will make me BAWL

- christian.. i mean hiiiii 🙊😂did he also try to hit on Nara before that’s why jk is extra pissed? Anyway, i hope all guys in fiction and real life if a girl says no, it doesn’t mean we’re playing hard to get. No is get away from us, thanks!!

- lastly Nara.. uhm im sorry but i cant see her as a girl’s girl 🙏🏻🙏🏻🫤the whole scene of them reminiscing when oc is there, girl not in front of my salad?!? And when oc walked away and jk wanted to follow but Nara was like oh i have something to say.. its like “pick me!!” Scene for me and I hate that jk stayed to listen. Its obvious they’re already arguing because of you rightttt? Im sorry.. if he’s not going through shit with his family already, i wont forgive him easy 😤because it if were reversed, a guy yapping about his time with oc, seriously oc would have cut him right away out of respect for her new partner. Imagine her ex being touchy with her and oc allowing it, and instead of following jk, she stays with the ex to listen to whatever. jk was so pissed when the receptionist flirted with oc who is a literal stranger. But what about his ex who he spent years with, maybe envisioned their lives together forever. Its annoying that he thought its okay to be comfortable with her again when oc is there..

Its a good thing that nara apologised and oc also acknowledged it so at least they ended in a good note? But its whatever just stay away next time please 🤨

- the amount of i love yous made me so giddy af!! The hairclip from prom, the gift he bought her!! Jk’s a sweet and gentle boy aww they deserve each other so much.

Overall, a very good chapter!! What a rollercoaster ride a swearrr its like the scenes are switching to fluff-angst-fluff-angst-fluff but i’ll take it as long as they stay together and united!! Your writing really makes me feel like you transported me to jk’s hometown, like i was one of the wedding guests! 😂 i cant wait for the next one!! But this also means that C&F is next dun dun dun dun…!!!!

plssss, i love hearing your thoughts on each chapterrrr like tysm for taking your time to type this all out :') awhie honestly, i am very greedy for them, too 🥺 so glad the 45k weren't too much.

yeah, the mundane things really did it for them 🥹 she was so proud of the chicken and strawberry thing, and so was he <3 the mom and junghyun are honestly very sweet!! she and oc truly bonded :( i guess she could be the daughter jk's mom never had, and in turn, she gives oc the love she deserves 🥹

about his dad, yes, i reckoned some ppl would say that when i was writing and editing the scenes, but think about it this way — the dad said he'd already been thinking about this for a while and he saw deji a day before they arrived. he had softened up a bit, but in general, jk definitely grew up without ever feeling like his dad loved him or was proud of him. it's like.. being nice for once doesn't make up for being cruel all your life, and that's why jk was so pissed all the time. he was saddened by the fact that his dad knew close to nothing about his son. plus, the man showed his true self when he flipped and when he was talking to oc!! so i know it might seem like jk was provoking him, but he def had a reason to. ALSO YEAH it was kinda hot of jk!!! he'd absolutely lose it if she actually got hurt... ha ha....

yeah nara probably was hit on by christian, too, but while that's a reason why jk is pissed, it's not the only one. it started with ria and christian's cousin tbh. AHHH OKKK THE NARA SCENE LMAO hear me out!! i knew the reactions would be different and i personally really do like nara bc — what she did was totally not ok and i'd be so pissed if i was oc, BUT nara has a loooong history with jk. she respects his new relationship, but at the same time, he'll always be important to her, and she's just been getting used to not being his friend anymore after being just that since they were smol 🥺 imagine if she was the love interest/the oc... it just goes very deep. jk tried to get away still, like when he tried to say "nara, can this wait?" but then stayed to listen for 10 seconds.. he just struggles with being mean tbh, and he also can't really hate or be shitty to someone he'd loved for so long 🥹 but yeah, oc might've reacted differently sighhhh men

YEAHHH THE ILYYsssss, man they are so whipped for each other it's disgustang.. and there's so much more ahead :'))) oh we'll get more of that fluff-angst whiplash, don't worry :P thank you smmmmm for sharing your thoughts babe ily fr 🤍 and yeah... c&f.. ha ha, good luck to us all 🫂

[atlasselfship]

theme park trip imagine...

just a lil context, you're in Florida, on holiday with you f/o, friends and family. said friends and family, are whoever you want them to be!!

also cw mention of rides.

Also this is completely self indulgent, so if somethings don't correspond with your universe, so i do apologies, you have every right to imagine differently,

Bright and warm, was the American sun as it glared down onto the hustle bustle of the Wednesday morning. A small window of opportunity where you all could act like tourists in a place that most people only could dream of being able to go. You were one of those people, who could only dream of being able to go, moons ago.

You still are to be fair, "you can take the person out of a working class background, but you can’t take the working class out the person."

You were in a constant state of awe; people and characters you’ve grown up with, characters you’ve loved majority of your lifetime, just casually walking around you. Being able to actually see those animated pictures fully move in front of your very eyes was practically a dream come true, if not slightly creepy.

What was even better, because, even though you are not a person for rides, having a distinct fear of going on anything that mechanical, that goes that fast, you were not pressured and there was no expectancy that you would go on any sort of ride, if you didn’t want to. And, made as though you thought your heart was going to burst then and there.

You happily, stood near the ride, carrying the bags and snapping pictures of a fair few characters. Nearly getting carried away with all that hub bub, and leaving your post with all their bags. It was amazing, and you couldn’t believe you were actually there. You felt almost childish, being this excited, but you’re ever patient, and ever loving partner, was eager for you to enjoy your time here, and in turn also getting over excited over a few things, making him look all the sweeter.

Being able to watch your partner and his best mate, who both work incredibly hard, day in and day out. From seeing your beloved become so stressed, and so tired; to this wonderfully, calm and so very content, it was once again, another dream come true.

You couldn’t get enough of this place, and with your friends and family around you; it felt all the better. Now, sun-tired, you sat quietly on your floor. Cross-legged, on the beige carpet of your hotel room. The double windowed doors, open wide on the most breathtaking view of the castle that was so iconic in so many different ways. The Florida heat just a small breeze in the calm, fairytale darkness, as you just took a minute.

You had excused and escaped your rambunctious, but loving family, to have a couple minutes’ respite, and just to secretly re-charge your social battery. Sipping slowly on your drink as you took everything in. Tying your best not to think about anything, this was your time as well. It was an awful, but common habit that your mind would play tricks on you, and just convince you that you didn’t deserve this or them.

It was hard to ignore at times.

You were taken out your thoughts, when a warm hand on your shoulder; leaning on you as your partner dutifully joined you on the floor. Putting his legs over the step, leaning towards you so that your short covered thighs were brushing together, and your shoulders bumping. Smiling at the feeling that it still gives you, after all these years.

What warmed you even more, was when you looking into his eyes. The feeling is mutual. You know, full heartedly, he feels the exact same. You that, through their smile, that you’ve only ever seen directed towards you, through their eyes, warm and endearing. And just their general comfort near you, they’ve breathed and repeated so many time that they feel safe with you. They feel themselves near you.  That they’re at home whenever they are next to you or are in your arms.

And that will never change. For you f/o? you are the only one for them.

[nonclassyparty]

if you wrote a novel i would seriously read it. your story telling/planning is novel quality i mean it.

for my thoughts on the last chapter 💐💐:

it may suck but i don’t feel too bad that her and mingi didn’t work out considering that he still obviously has some growing to do emotionally. hopefully he can achieve that and if they end up crossing paths in the future, great. if not also great, or at least she finds someone who’s right for her considering she expressed desire to be in a relationship, or even if she stays with herself bc i’m a firm believer that you can be happy without a romantic relationship.

i like the way you wrote her and yeosangs sort of reconciliation, it’s a bit more realistic bc i wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s treated me like that either, but i like how they can be around each other without feeling the need to be overly friendly and also without feeling like they’re just tolerating each other (i think the word is cordial, idk). there’s balance.

i’m not someone who expresses her emotions regularly but when her and seonghwa spoke for the first time in a while almost made me get out the tissues. this is the softest we’ve seen him act the whole story and i like how you wrote in his lego building hobby i thought it was very endearing.

as for sans ending, i don’t really feel a way about it other than it ended as perfectly as it could. when she first called him initially i was just like “girl i know we over him but why keep calling him” but i realize it was her final go at getting closure and i feel like their ending made sense. what more would they talk about in the future if they continue meeting even as friends? we saw how that turned out the first time. and at least she got something out of it (which was seonghwa)

i just love how you tied the story together at the end. if it’s ok to ask (i mean you already made it clear in the last chapter) how do you think they all end up in the further future. like who gets married, does she pursue bigger things with her art, etc.

i hope you’re proud of yourself for this story, bc it’s honestly one of the best series i’ve read here and i can’t wait for your next one bc i know it’s also gonna be great as well <3

omg woahhhhhh thank you very much!!

i genuinely have nothing to add to these little points u guys are making but i really enjoy reading them altho i will say that the seonghwa parts were hard to write. him and san being friends was something i planned from the start but i simply didn't know how to insert hwa into this chapter or if i did their meeting and reconciliation justice, it's hard to describe sibling relationships 😭

as for the question about where they'll end up in the future;

well, the one year forward where y/n has the apartment finally already means two things, first- wooyoung and yeosang live together now and second- it was the apartment she talked to mingi about in act 6 when he asked "how does ur life look like if everything goes to plan?" or something and which he asked about in the last chapter meaning that the story ended with her finally in a place where she's content with her life and it can only go up from there. she will later on start working as an illustrator for animated movies (a lot of inspiration for her art to me came from spirited away lol) and that will be her main occupation while she will do some art for herself occasionally. and she will meet someone, i imagine him being a fan of her works so he will be head over heels for her and she will finally get romanced the life out of her lol but i don't see any kids for her, i don't think she'd want to be a mother.

mingi well...he'll fall in love with someone else, get married, have kids, move out of the city and join a smaller firm somewhere bc it makes him more content and it's less pressure. hongjoong is similar to y/n in a way that the both of them are single and in a place where they want to have fun in life, they obviously keep in touch as she goes to visit him in tokyo and he sends her postcards, he's sort of a free spirit...

seonghwa will marry his current girlfriend, continue working at his father's firm but their relationship will never be good, hwa and y/n will be very close tho!

and san...well, i kinda want to say i'm keeping his ending a secret bc i'd like to write a spin-off for him some time later but if that never happens, then his life will be what he imagined it - he'll be very rich but very lonely.

wooyoung and yeosang will get married. when y/n left woo to go to the hotel, he literally called yeosang crying and said "you have to marry me bc there is no breaking up here after going through all this shit"😭

[milune-vox]

The Dawn of Redeeming Grace

previous chapter <=> next chapter You can also read here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/43003029/chapters/120774811#workskin Chapter 6 :

  Hob focuses on his breath : in and out- slow and steady. His limbs still ache from his earlier breakdown- the more he walks, the better he starts to feel. It’s alright, he thinks, as the cold air and the streetlights wash over him. It’s alright, as he looks over to his companion and finds that their steps have fallen into sync. It’s alright. Tonight is peaceful, tonight the world does not tear like a wound. Tonight there are no wails nor shouts to be heard. Nothing but the sound of their steps against the sidewalk and the never ending chatter of the old city.

He keeps looking over at his friend to better savour the moment. Although they've been meeting more often, their time together still feels precious. Precarious, even. Whenever he sees Dream nuzzle his face in the scarf he’s given him, he cannot help but smile. His joy feels like bubbles, rising and popping out of him unbidden.

He should rein it in more; yet it is a most endearing sight, and he is made weak by it. He tries to focus on their surroundings. He distracts his unhelpful mind, attempting to look at the familiar sights with a novel eye. Was this pole always this crooked? The sidewalk glimmers and shines under the streetlights. Patches of grass rise from the harsh concrete, with a kind of resilience he always found moving. He thinks aloud, Dream hums in response. He hopes he is not boring him: he cannot help himself. He is ready top blabber on and on to ignore the buzzing, maddening energy that weighs between them. It has always been there, he thinks- yet, it is stronger than ever after the moment they shared earlier.

His cheerful voice echoes on the empty streets. He explains how this is the path that he takes every morning on his way to uni. They’re not following it through, though: see, right there, he would usually make a turn, and get on the tube. They won’t go there tonight, though- he doesn’t fancy running into one of his students right now.

“I would like to see you teach, someday.”

Hob’s smile freezes and his breath catches in his throat.

He imagines it. Dream, his oldest friend, his mysterious stranger, standing amongst his students and colleagues. A thousand thoughts flood his mind- how would he even focus on his lecture with Dream in the room? How would everyone else react to his presence? Would he have to introduce him? If so, how? Should he try and find an alias? Create an elaborate lie? Built an entire identity from scratch, as he does for himself every few decades?

The rumour mill had already started running at the New Inn. Now it would start there too. All because he couldn’t help the stupid, lovey-dovey grin he had on whenever he looked at his friend. He could already tell which colleagues were going to raise eyebrows. Ask pointed questions. Place bets-

As his frantic eyes go back to Dream, he catches how his face had started to close off in gloomy resignation. Hob realises that his friend must have interpreted his silence for his trying to find a way to turn him down. He hurries to say:

“It’s not, I mean, I would love for you to come, I’d be ecstatic, actually ! I’m just thinking-”, many things, most of which I can’t tell you- “I’m just thinking that we should find an alias, in case someone asks, right?”

It is not a lie. Still, it remains far from the whole truth; he worries for a moment that Dream might catch his omission.

“It is a reasonable idea, yes.” His friend nods, solemn, a considering frown settled on his features.

Hob chuckles, from relief and endearment both. His fists tighten in his coat’s pocket. They are walking very near each other, now. He feels Dream’s presence like he got caught in the gravitational pull of a planet. He’s trying to resist the temptation of taking his clenched fists out of his pockets. Their hands would brush together, at this distance. It would be an accident, of course. It would happen in a natural, unambiguous way. Perhaps he could... Stop behaving like a schoolboy with a crush, he berates himself. He huffs, and a puff of smoke clouds his sight. He takes notice of this. He also takes notice of the fact Dream's breath doesn’t do the same. He watches him take a deep inhale and release it, the cold air staying resolutely clear. Is he... freezing, inside? He didn't seem to be, earlier, when… ... He dispels the confusion by a mental shrug : he's not human. Of course he would not bend to the laws of biology and physics. He clears his throat and offers:

“Here, let me think. I’ll find you a name. I’ve given you a few over the years, or tried to, anyway.”

“You presume to name me?”

The tone is playful. Hob can recognize it for what it is: a teasing remark. Yet, he can hear the rumbling of self-deprecating thoughts, far on the horizon. You dare...

"Yes, yes I do.”, comes his impudent retort, like a stab of iron waved against his old ghosts. He chuckles at his self-referential joke, and Dream shakes his head with a smile. A conspiratorial thing, dispelling visions of doom and heartbreak with its easy fondness. Hob can only read this in his eyes, for Dream has once again buried himself in the layers of his scarf. Were he allowed, he would kiss him on the tip of his cheekbone, the only part of his face peeking out of the cloth. As he is not, he focuses on their task instead, casting his longing thoughts away :

“Hm… I don’t think any old basic names would fit you.”

He thinks it over, passing a series of luxurious bushes he quite likes. They're always brimming with apiary life in the mornings. As he squints in an attempt to discern birds in the dark, many names cross his mind. Every single one of them is attached to half forgotten faces from days past. He frowns. He is definitely not giving him a name from people he has known before.

"I could throw a few at you, see what fits?", he suggests nonetheless, a playful twist to his smile.

“It may not be necessary. I already have many names.”

“Likewise, old friend. Still fun to come up with brand new ones. Like in a spy story. Have you watched James Bond? We need to watch James Bond. ... I guess James isn't too bad of a name, though, I did just say basic names would scarcely fit you."

His tangent earns him a reprimanding glare, mitigated by a small amused smile. They stop at a red light although there is no car on the road. Hob feels like he's got all the time in the world, and that this night will never end. He looks over at his friend. He is still as a statue, beautiful beyond words. His eyes are shining with mysterious, distant stars.

“I am Morpheus. Oneiros. Kai'ckul. Shaper of Forms. The Sandman. King of Dreams and Nightmares. King of Cats.”

He could have felt overwhelmed under the onslaught of information. It was a lot, after having been left in the dark for six centuries. It is not why Hob makes a strangled sound, choking on his own spit.

“Sorry-”, he gets his coughing under control, “King of what?”

“Drea-”

“No, the other one-”

“Nigh-”

“Come on, the other other one.”

Dream squints his eyes at him, imposing a stern silence after the succeeding interruptions. Then he retorts :

“Cats. Does it trouble you?”

The light turns green, and busy as he is having his worldview do a 180, he does a double take before getting a move on.

As he does, his mind snaps back into place and he roars laughing. Oh, no, this is perfect, actually.

“No, no,” he tries very hard to rein it in, “I mean, this is so, so fitting. You are so very much like a cat.”

“I am one, sometimes.”

Hob tries to picture it. It very unfortunately invokes images of catboys in his mind's eye. He catches a small glimpse of what Dream might look like with a pair of cat ears on his head. He dispells the thought with a short laugh, rubbing at the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, I’d love to see that.”

Dream raises a single eyebrow at him, and Hob hopes that he is not privy to his imaginings. He artfully decides to deflect.

“That’s it. I figured it out!”, he raises his hands in an eureka motion. “If anyone asks for your name at uni, you’ll be called, drumrolls…”, he does his best drumroll impression. If he is to trust the mirt in Dream's eyes, it is either excellent or absolutely dreadful.

“Felix!", he announces with great fanfare.

His friend's face goes sour.

"… What? It is a very solid cat name.”

“So, I do not inspire any usual human names, but a usual cat name seems fitting? Perhaps I ought to show you this aspect of me, indeed, to prove to you that I do not look ordinary then either.”

Oh the ego. Hob smiles with patient fondness, conceding:

“Ah, you’ve got me there. I guess I can’t find you a cat name until I have met your cat self. Haaaaa. Well. Maybe Dream but in another language, then? Traum, nah, Targit? Bit rough sounding. Мечтать. Sueño-”

“Do you intend to say my name in every language that you know?”

“Depends. Would you be impressed?”

“I know every language that has ever been spoken, or dreamed of.”

“... Spoilsport.”

Their easy banter is making him feel like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He breathes easier. The edge of the world feels softer.

They have walked for a little over thirty minutes when they pass a church. As they do, the bells ring. The chilly air trembles with the intensity of the sound. The vibrations fill his chest, reverbates in his ribcage. It infuses him with an unfathomable feeling. He thinks of how such dramatics have been used to fool the masses. Invoking a numinous feeling with theatrics and old tricks. After all, sound was a fairly obvious way to influence people - music being the prime example.

In spite of these rational considerations, he still feels anxious as he stops near the entry. He considers going in, and realises the source of his sudden discomfort. It is as if by entering a church faithless, he’d be committing some sacrilegious act and crossing God. Which is irrational. You can't think you are crossing God while denying his existence. Schroedinger’s faith : both believing and unbelieving, until you examine it. He tended to fall on the unbelieving side of things, usually. He carried on his merry path of not caring about religious morals, only following his own. Though he could go with both believing in God and not believing in the holy rules human enacted. Those changed with the wind of time. He knew this all too well.

They get closer to the front door, standing under the bell tower. Hob strains his head back to see the facade in its grand height, and, taking in the austere, baroque beauty, he asks:

“I suppose, as you're, well, you, that you do know if all these things are real or a bunch of bollocks, right?"

The blue eyes shine softly in the dark. Hob knows better now than to assume the glow comes from a reflection of the streetlights.

“God?”, his old friend asks back, eyebrows slightly raised in a rather bored expression.

“Yeah.”

There is silence. No answers.

Fair, he supposes. Not like he took more than six hundred years to disclose even his name. Why would he go around sharing arcane knowledge now?

Then Dream surprises him.

"Beliefs shape the world. A dream, shared by enough dreamers, comes to life. A belief, shared by enough believers, is brought to life as well."

The words sound like an edict. Hob’s mind stutters. The implications of this are… endless. How often does the fabric of reality change? How many beings just pop into existence because the idea of them spread around enough? How many times did such things happen in his own lifetime? Did he even notice? Is the Mandela Effect proof of this universal instability? He feels an existential crisis coming up. He tries to compartmentalise, and asks in a stunned whisper:

“You mean we create gods?”

Dream smiles at him in a way that makes Hob’s heart miss a beat. There lies a tenderness that he cannot fathom being the recipient of. He wonders if somehow, humanity shaped his friend as he is now. He can’t believe he himself could ever dream up something so wonderful, so other. He is thankful to whatever process made him what he is and brought him to this time and place, here, with him.

"Do you know everything?”

"I know more than mortals. Not all. Not everything. Such knowledge is not my burden to bear.” His expression is sombre in a way that makes Hob believe that he likely knows someone who does bear this weight, and that he wouldn’t wish to take their place for the world.

"That's… please, take no offence, but that's reassuring to hear. Considering what happened in the last century, with… Well.” He knows he needs not elaborate. The topic of his friend’s missed century never strays too far from the surface. It is ever present, even when unacknowledged, as trauma tends to be. “It would have been…,” Hob sighs, heavy hearted. “Well, it would have been horrible, if you'd known all the bad things that were coming your way and had to simply… suck it up and let it happen. That's not a fate I'd wish upon anyone.”

The words are perhaps heavier than he had intended. A weight settles back, and he looks at the paved path. Then comes some singing from inside the church. He raises his head, all ears. He can tell that his friend is listening, too. They spend a few seconds this way, caught up in the eerie quality of sacred music floating in the air. After a time, he catches back on his thoughts, and adds with a wistful tone :

“Yeah. It does sound… like a pretty stressful skill to have.” At that, he breathes out a short chuckle, to try and release some of the tension the topic built.

"More stressful than not knowing? More stressful than going blindly into existence, unable to predict when and how tragedy shall strike next?"

"Ignorance is bliss.”, Hob gives him a playful wink. He relishes in the soft incline of Dream’s lips in response, then elaborates, “Well. Surface bliss. In the end I guess having more information is the way to go if you want to deal with things better. But there’s the rub- ah, don’t look at me like that, this bloody Shaxberd didn’t invent this turn of phrase! I meant, that's the thing, isn't it. It’s good to know about things that help us act. Is it worth having foreknowledge on things that we can't control, though? There’s a reason I’ve never dabbled in the occult.”

Dream’s eyes do not leave him, and what an exhilarating, powerful thing it is to get such a hold on his friend's attention. He tries hard to not let it intoxicate him- he’s made himself enough of a fool recently. He will not trip over his words- these eyes, by God, these eyes…

"I can't imagine a scenario in which you would know what's going to happen, you know it's going to be bad, and you let it happen anyway.”, Hob continues swiftly, weighing on his teaching career to keep a shred of eloquence in the midst of his turmoil.

”Doesn't make much sense to me, is all.”, he carries on valiantly. “So I assume that in this scenario, there must be a reason for someone to let things happen the way they do. … Perhaps they can’t or the universe breaks. Something like that.”

Dream smiles wistfully, for a second, and then, raising an eyebrow, he answers:

"Perhaps they would let it happen because the best stories are tragedies."

There is something like humour in his tone. It is so carefully concealed that, were Hob not used to deciphering every single expression from his friend, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

"I… yeah, maybe. Maybe this hypothetical omniscient character is a sado-masochist. Or a writer.” He thinks it over and adds : “…Though I’m not sure the distinction stands.”

At that, Dream laughs, actually laughs, and Hob's heart bursts into flames, kindled by the warmth of the sound. Oh, it is the weirdest laugh he’s ever heard. It is his new favourite thing in the whole wide world. He cannot help but laugh along. He breathes in, and out- slow and steady, once again. He focuses back on the present to try and assuage the disarming fondness that he feels. His eyes search the forefront of the building, and find the notice board.

“They’re celebrating a mass for the fallen from World War two.”, he points at a flyer on the small wooden panel. “… Crazy that there was a second one, eh? The first was meant to be the war to end all wars… Hopefully there won't be a third.”

He says this last sentence softly. He tries to see the world with optimism, to take one day at a time- it is, in truth, the only way to keep his sanity intact. If he were to always contemplate his past and worry about the future, with the amount of past and future that he has... He would have already crumbled under the weight of guilt and nostalgia, fear and expectations. He turns back to Dream, who is still looking at him with those piercing blue eyes. He feels as if his soul is bare under the light of them. Christmas carols rise above the arches and rain upon them both. Their familiar tunes wash over him and uncover buried memories. They sprout at the surface of his mind and he feels compelled to try and convey the truth of them :

“You know. We did have Christmas, in the trenches. It was…”

His throat closes up. He breathes in, and out. He abandons the idea of trying to plunge to the depths of it, else he breaks down again. Instead, he states:

“It was the most heartwarming... And heart wrenching thing, to find cause for celebration in those hopeless times. I don’t know if I can put it into words.” He cannot. “I suppose. I suppose I’d rather like to go in, if you will?”

He doesn’t know if Morpheus would agree to this. After all, if he is to consider his name, and its connection to the Greek pantheon.... It might be offensive to offer entering a church dedicated to the one-and-only-GodTM.

His friend quickly dismisses his fears by nodding his ascent. Hob and starts moving, leading them in.

He knows the rites, as any with his upbringing and long life would. Still, he hasn’t set foot in a church in a very long time. It is an uncanny experience. It, ironically, has a dreamlike quality. He takes a moment to feel the cold of these halls, to lay eyes upon the grandiose arches and carpentry wood. It looks like any other church. He hasn’t ever been in this particular one. By the time he could have, he was too scared he had made a deal with the devil to dare put foot anywhere near a church. He didn't want to suddenly burst into flames. Or to get struck by lightning. Or to receive some other kind of gruesome biblical punishment. By the time he’d come to marry Eleanor in one of those, he’d understood that his fears were unfounded. Still the habit was gone- and so was the appeal. Anyone who was raised religious and then stopped the practice could certainly relate. It brought forth a truly ridiculous feeling, showing back to these places of worship- of childhood wonder, and realising you've outgrown them by far, while everyone around you carries on dutifully like no time has passed.

He still dips two fingers in the stoup (what a word) and signs himself, surprised when he sees his friend do the same.

Morpheus raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say “when in Rome…”, and Hob tries to keep his laughter in. He still offers a rather crooked smile that Dream mirrors with his own- a small, discreet, incredibly smug thing.

He looks up at the arches, their elegant curvature disappearing into the darkened depth of the vault. The nave is scarcely lit by tapers. He can spot large paintings on the sides, and one further away, on the semi-dome of the apse. The artworks are blackened by time, obscure in the flimsy light of candles. He can only identify their content through his theoric knowledge and pattern recognition. It is a fairly empty church, apart from the presence of a few people sitting up front. All of them old and grey. Which is an odd thought to think, he realises. After all, these people are much younger than either he or Dream. It is to be expected, he supposes, with the fall of the mass attendance rate, and the fact that most people having lived through WW2 are now well and truly gone.

Not him, though.

He sits on one of the benches in the back. The priest finishes a sermon he doesn’t pay any mind to, focused as he is on taking in the smell and the sights and all the memories they call forth.

There are a few sentences in latin, though most of the rituals are nowadays done in english. Those sentences tickle his brain in a funny way- a mix of past and present, both the first times he learnt his letters and the recent moments in which he’d went back to study to become a teacher.

The organ starts playing. A few youngsters, altar boys holding candles, come forth from the back, and, walking in line, start singing.

Juvenile voices, pure and light and piercing start reverberating and wash over him and rise above higher and higher.

He looks at all this, he considers all that was and isn’t anymore. He thinks of those who would have killed to be there, on this day, and had killed, in fact, in the hope to live, only to fall to those who also were only trying to survive. He thought he had shed all his tears, and then some.

A few still manage to fall down on his cheeks.

He remains stoically seated.

After a while, he feels observed- he doesn’t look to check, however. He focuses on his breathing. On the songs and shrill voices.

A hand softly touches his own.

A tentative gesture. An offer.

He takes it.

The mass comes to an end, and Hob rises to his feet, followed by his friend, whose hand he doesn’t let go of- he ignores the disdainful look of an old lady as they pass- they’re outside again, it must be around nine in the evening, the night is young, the air is downright freezing, and, by God, he feels alive.

“You have anywhere you got to be?”

Dream seems to think on it, for a moment. Hob feels the flame of his hope flicker. Then:

“I can spare another few moments. I shall be made aware, if my realm requires me.”

“Well, let’s go somewhere fun, shall we, your Majesty?” he grins cheekily, and Dream looks at him with an expression of fond annoyance that does things to his insides. It could seriously push him to foolishness, for trying to see it again, and again-

“I know a place.”, he winks, and drags his impossible friend by the hand, feeling like a young lad again.