#they’ve glowed before though so Its okay they’re just shy

[boos-gh0st]

Raising them right

[spoilers for the full moon]

Bonus pictures:

[moonbeamsung]

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele​ for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi​ @bluejaem​ @lyshoonn​ @vera-liscious​ @allegxdly​ @cupfullofjeno​ @thats-a-jen-no-no​ @yo-ddream​

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet 

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried. 

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

[ivesambrose]

Yes, I'm back with another pick a card!

This was suggested to me an anon, so anon if you're reading this a big shout out to you :)

This is aimed at singles but know what? Take what you will.

Note: These images are from the deck apps I own on my phone. ❤️

Decks used are : housewives tarot, pagan cats tarot and tarot Mucha respectively.

Pick a card that you feel drawn to or reminds you of something significant.

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at jovescorpioreadings@gmail.com

1.

People only take and take don't they?

Till you have ran out of things to give but they still knock at your door looking for scraps. At this point you're just exhausted and closed the door tight.

You decided it's time for a change. A glow up, if you will? And why not? You deserve to look forward to a better fate. Not this. You're conserving energy or have been doing so for quite some time. You've been wishing and being patient but most of all I see you become some what unattainable? You're standards have gone up. Good for you!

I feel you've caught the eyes of an admirer or maybe several or that's soon to happen. Water, air, fire it seems. You're luminous, bewitching and a bit out of reach. I believe focused a lot on work mostly or building something for yourself, working out even? It's like you've reached the point of, "damn you know whose a full course meal? Me myself."  I also see you busy reading or writing? Listening to music. Honestly just chilling and studying even maybe. 

I think there are multiple people coming to you, one swiftly, other dying to reach out or coming in steadily. The one you choose would feel like a reflection of yourself whose beauty will stand out more instead of the flaws. This will be someone who looks up to you and is honestly really good looking? Not just that, they're exciting, artistic and really charming. I think you'll be flooded with affection soon but then again there's nothing than you can't give yourself you feel me?

To manifest, simply have a child like wonder to yourself and do as you please. Really do what makes you happy, learn something, sell something that brings you abundance, stay in that zone of high standard. I also see you assisting and Guiding people in some way? I feel whatever this love you desire is coming to you, its not something you have to chase or count calender dates for.

2. That betrayal would cut you deep or already has. You should have listened but it's okay, once the wound is exposed it makes it easier to heal.

It's alright, not the end of the world but the start of your growth. How else would you have learnt? No, you just sat there settling and convincing yourself that this is perfect, your bridge of light led by flowers and butterflies. But life will sometimes pick you away from your box and scream at you to stop equating convinience and companionship to and endgame.

But you know what? Now that you're here I see you either spending more time with or around animals. Buying something new for yourself (attire and accessories), maybe wanting a new look. Your intuition will peak, you'll see or dream of things you weren't aware of earlier.

Some of you are deliberately avoiding confronting a desire or emotion. It's right there but you're trying to escape it. This won't last long.

Also stop burying yourself in work. You need a balance. Mind, body and heart. Come on, no extremes right now. As for love? It's right there. In the most unexpected way, right there shimmering like a ball and you're just like, 'I pretend I do not see.' okay.. Why though?

How long are you going to doubt yourself to oblivion? I sense Earth and water placements? This person seems shy, but ambitious, a giver, very funny, very crackhead humour but talks like they've been alive for too long. They mean well though, super caring. Really pretty features but eyes seem either intense or dewy and dreamy. Might have a water moon or rising. Wiill happen at a time where you feel you're stuck in limbo or just dunno what's going on. Calm before the storm types.

Manifest through creative expression, art, writing and self love + self worth. You do deserve more. I'm not plaster this on your wall if you don't listen to me.

3. So... You know, you know you're connecting the dots right?

You know the two dots are connecting even though the entire chart looks like Peter Parker randomly shot webs everywhere and you're Nick Fury, done with literally everything so you're just being patient or just going on about your day and life.

See, your intuition and higher self / subconscious whatever you believe in already knows.

Either you're seeing it too, have an inner knowing about it and are actively trying to not confront it or just laughing at off cuz haha me? Grand things? Haha why?

Haha yes. That's why.

I think you question yourself a lot, "do I deserve someone spectacular like that? Shouldn't I just stay in my lane?" but still you're the type who rejects a lot of people. I believe you look for a sense of home in a person but still want to be left rather free?

Either this person coming in or you're thinking/trying to manifest seem a bit larger than life to you? Maybe out of your league? So you're either sticking with the one you're dating for now or just 'I'm gonna be the latest single MYSELF' or 'nah what you talking about I'm good.' or max to max, 'I dunno if we'll ever meet and be together so idk ha :)'

This love seems like the perfect balance for you in some way yet excites you and pulls you in at the same time so you are or would be unsure if this is your brain or hormones or feelings on maximum overdrive or it's something legit. That's perfectly fine, things will eitherway play out.

I see some of you fixated on a personal venture or project, tending to it and hoping it grows big? I see that some of you may want to look after their health and body too. I see fixation of skincare products too. I see research work for something as well? You tend to be a lot in your space when you work so the world around usually switches off. That's why you don't know what's around the corner for you and that could just be that one thing you've been waiting for.

I see a long time manifestion that is actually coming in NOW so suddenly you don't know what to do about it?

Honestly, chill. Take a bath. Bake something?

I feel whatever this is, is unavoidable and will manifest anyway.

This is the kind of love that grabs you by the hand and makes you dance even if you have two left feet. Brace yourself, know that it's here.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Sweaters, Snowballs, Cocoa, and Kisses (Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: (Y/N) doesn’t like extreme temperature, but Wanda really wants to play in the snow, so do the other Avengers. Along with that, Christmas is coming up. Basically a fluff fic with a small amount of angst.

Request: Not this. I’ve got one, but it’s angsty. I need fluff.

Warnings: Meltdown/shutdown, fluff, a small dash of angst, Christmas, some Hallmark-y sappiness.

Word Count: 2823

Note: Some wintertime fluff in May. Why not? And Pietro and Vision are alive because I say so.

You hate winter.

It’s always so cold and it makes you shiver even thinking about it. All of that cold snow, hypothermia, frostbite, not to mention the slippery ice. You’re so scared you’re gonna fall and break a bone. You’d much rather admire its frosty beauty from within, sipping hot cocoa and wearing comfy pajamas, cuddling up with a loved one, watching old Disney or holiday films.

Your crush, Wanda on the other hand, LOVES winter. And you love her. But shy little ole you hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. Every time you try, or even think about trying, you feel the butterflies of love all a-fluttery in your tummy. Your cheeks turn into red roses. (Not literally, of course. That’d be EXTREMELY concerning) You feel yourself stumbling over your words, even in your mind. Not to mention you get weak at the knees. Social skills aren’t exactly your strong suit as it is, so this extra layer is just....it makes you feel embarrassed. 

And no one can blame you. Wanda caught your eye immediately when you first joined the team. She has such a softness about her, even if she seems slightly aloof at times. You’ve heard her playing guitar and singing while passing her room at the compound, and your heart just about stops whenever you do. She has the voice of an angel. Her laugh is made of sunshine and rainbows. Her voice as soft as a marshmallow pillow. So much more inviting than even the beautiful, but biting, winter wind.

Not to mention; Wanda loves wearing fluffy sweaters in December. They always look so soft and warm and.....how you long to just snuggle up against her on a couch by the fire in comfy pajamas and fluffy slippers while watching a cute holiday film or an old Disney film. Maybe even give her a cute little peck on the cheek. But shy little ole you chickens out all the time. 

===============================================

And then one winter day, there are no missions. No training. Nothing.

You’re using your light powers, one of your powers, to decorate the place with Steve and Bucky when Peter bursts in with snow clothes for the whole team.

“Guys!” he exclaims excitedly. “It’s so beautiful outside. We should go out and play!”

As much as you hate the winter, his enthusiasm is contagious. Wanda looks up from her book.

“I love that idea,” she smiles. “Pietro and I used to play in the park whenever it was safe to go out in the winter.”

Her brother zooms inside, startling Peter.

“I heard my name?”

“I was just mentioning how we used to play in that park in Sokovia in the winter,” she says. “Remember? Mama and papa would make sure it was safe before taking us. Even if it was for only a few minutes, it was always so fun.”

“And that one time I hit you square in the face with a snowball?”

“I got your TV night pick after that,” she giggles.

Your mind begins to wander as Wanda and Pietro talk a bit more about winter in Sokovia. You think about just how beautiful, how adorable, how dreamy, how......perfect Wanda is. You’re so distracted that you almost don’t notice Bucky stumbling on the ladder. Luckily Pietro rushes over to stop him from falling. 

“Steve, (Y/N), you two need to be more careful.”

“You’re one to talk about careful, Needy for Speedy,” you joke.

All of a sudden, you hear that cute little giggle. You look to see Wanda smiling at you. Immediately you go weak at the knees and your cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. Even your nose is red.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, Rudolph,” “Need for Speedy” jokes back at you, smirking as he sets Bucky down.

“What’s going on?” Nat asks as she enters dressed in casual attire.

“It’s so beautiful outside,” Peter says as he finishes reorganizing the clothing that Pietro startled out of his hands. “I was thinking we should have a snow day! You know? Go outside and play!”

“That sounds kinda cool,” Nat shrugs. “I’m down.”

“Count me in,” Bucky adds.

“I mean, it can’t be colder than the ice I was frozen in,” Steve shrugs.

“I’ll go too,” Pietro agrees.

“I talked to Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner, Clint, and Thor,” Peter tells the rest of you. “And they said they’d be up for it as well. Vision told me he’ll hang back. What about you, (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” you exclaim. “I’m....I’m not a fan of winter.”

“Ah c’mon, kid,” Steve says. “We won’t be out for too long.”

“It’s just....well, I’m sensitive to the really cold and really hot and I’m scared of slipping on the ice,” you admit sheepishly. “It’s okay. I can stay back with Vision.”

“I don’t want you to miss out, though,” Peter tells you. “You’re part of the team. I mean, Vision is too, but I don’t know how he reacts to the snow, so I’m okay with him staying behind if it means he stays safe.”

“When we come back, we could have a movie night and hot cocoa,” Wanda suggests. “One of the best parts of winter is warming up after being out in the cold. If you want, you can hold onto my arm if you’re scared of slipping when we’re walking to the park, (Y/N). And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

You didn’t think your face could glow any redder. You thought wrong. Wanda actually said your name. To you. And she’s offering to help you.

“I, uh....” you stammer. “Wanda, you....you really don’t....you shouldn’t waste....”

“I want to,” she insists kindly. “You seem really sweet.”

Oh Lordy Lordy-Lord....you feel like you’re about to faint. The butterflies are extra fluttery today. Why is an angel like her wasting her time on someone like you? You have no clue. 

“I-I mean, if....if you’re sure....” you stammer on. 

“Of course,” she smiles. “It’s like Peter said. You’re part of the team as well, and I don’t want you to miss out either.”

You nod. 

Maybe a little too much.

“Okay, that’s enough, Bobbly McBobble-Head,” Pietro jokes with a knowing smirk. “Let’s get ready.”

=========================================

Soon enough, you’re all bundled up and on your way to a park just a small walk from the compound. Despite Wanda supporting you, well actually because of Wanda supporting you, you still feel like you’re slipping because you’re so weak at the knees. This leads to you apologizing to her every few seconds.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (Y/N),” she tells you gently.

How is she so patient? How is so sweet? How is she so compassionate and understanding? So many questions like this plague your mind as you slip to the park. When you arrive, everyone else is getting right to playing. Nat, Steve, Pietro, and Bucky are all in an intense snowball fight. Tony and Peter are building a snowman together. Clint and Bruce are sliding down the hill on sleds. 

“I think I’m going to make some snow angels,” Wanda muses.

“But you’re an angel already.”

The phrase somehow slips out of your mouth and into her ear. Her face turns red and she giggles, her nose scrunching up.

“I was right. You are sweet, (Y/N).”

You’re like a snowman in summer, about to melt at any moment. Wanda helps you get onto solid and steady ground before heading off to make snow angels. For several moments, you just stand there. Here you are, out in the cold, because an angel of a woman wants to make sure you’re included in the team. The thought is just.....surreal.

You end up kind of just walking and standing around for a while. You’re extremely worried about how you’re going to react to the snow if you sit in it, let alone lay down in it. You end up kind of just drifting off into a walking daydream; one day, you want to work up the courage to admit your feelings to her. You’re worried about being rejected, but at the same time, you don’t want to lose that chance. There’s always a chance that she might have feelings for you as well. There’s always a chance.

“Yeah,” you say to yourself. “There’s always a cha--”

THWACK!

A stinging burst of cold hits you square in the face and brings you out of your thoughts. You find your vision obscured by snow. Immediately you go into a panic. Your chest tightens up and your breathing becomes shallow and rapid, your heart beating wildly. Tears well up in your eyes. Instinctively you drop to the ground and begin to rock as you hear footsteps rush over.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” you hear Bucky exclaim. “I swear I didn’t mean to hit you.”

You wince and make a small squeak as he tries to put his hand on your shoulder. 

I wanna go back, I wanna go back, I wanna go back.

“Back up,” you hear Nat tell them. “Give them some space.”

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat as you rock.

Then you remember. 

“And if it gets too cold for you, you can just let me know and I’ll go back to the compound with you.”

“Wanda!” you cry out, your tears almost freezing to your face. “Wanda!”

In moments she’s at your side. 

“It’s going to be okay, (Y/N),” she tells you gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

You finally brush the snow off your face, but the experience has still left you feeling panicky.

“Wanna go, wanna go, wanna go,” you repeat.

“We can go back to the compound,” Wanda assures you. “Come on. I’ll take you back.”

You blink out the snow that remains in your eyes and reach a hand out to Wanda. She gently takes it and helps you up. 

“(Y/N), I-” Bucky begins.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the time,” Clint says. “They’re clearly overwhelmed.”

Wanda leads you out of the park, trying to make sure you two get back as quickly and safely as possible.

==================================

The two of you arrive and take the elevator. Wanda helps you out of your snow clothes.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asks you.

“Cocoa, cocoa, cocoa,” you repeat as you take off your snowpants.

“I’ll get started on it,” Wanda tells you.

Once the snow clothes are off, you head to your room and throw off your clothes, changing into warm pajamas and fluffy slippers. You impulsively rub your arms to get the heat back in them, and you place a warm wash cloth on your face, the tears still rolling down your face.

You flop onto your bed and let the silence and warmth cover you. It’s not too hot, but it’s definitely not freezing-cold. That’s when the realization hits you. Wanda Maximoff, your crush, walked you back to the compound and is doing what she can to help you through your sensory overload. And now it’s just you and her in the compound.

Well, it’s actually you two and Vision, but he was staying back anyway. 

About half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door.

“(Y/N)? I’ve got your hot cocoa ready.”

It’s Wanda. Your heart is pounding fast and the butterflies have returned. Trying not to get weak at the knees, you wobble over and open the door. There’s Wanda with a mug of hot cocoa and a plate of something. And she’s wearing one of her fluffy sweaters; this one is holiday-red and has a snowflake on the front.

“You okay?” she asks. 

You nod. 

“Y-yeah.”

Your cheeks turn absolutely rose-red.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “It seems like you just get so wobbly around me.”

So she has noticed! 

“I....Wanda, I.....I’m....” you stammer. 

She smiles kindly.

“How about we go to the lounge and talk?”

You nod again, and the two of you head to the lounge, decked out in holiday decor. Wanda sets the hot cocoa and plate, which you now see is full of Christmas cookies, on the table and sits on the couch. You wobble to a spot next to her and sits down. For a few moments, you say nothing. The butterflies are at maximum flutter by now. 

“Just tell her, you blushing idiot!” you think to yourself. “Just tell her that you’re in love with her!”

You gulp.

“W-wanda?” you ask.

“Hm?” she responds curiously.

You try to gather up what to say. 

“Um.....I.....I’m.....you.....with.....love.....in.....” you begin, stumbling. “For a.....been...long time.....in love....I’ve.....with you.”

Wanda smiles kindly.

“I know,” she says matter of factly.

This somehow comes as a shock to you.

“How.....?”

“I’m a telepath.”

You mentally facepalm yourself. Of course! How could you forget?

“I think....no, I’m almost certain that I’m in love with you too,” she replies. “I’ve seen you interacting with the others and you’re just so sweet and shy and adorable.”

The color returns to your face with a blush. 

“You....you really are? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugs. 

“I guess I wanted to hear it be said in your real voice. And I suppose I was a little nervous to approach you.”

“You? Nervous? To approach me?”

Wanda nods. 

“Do you want to cuddle with me?” she asks.

You nod, moving in timidly. Thankfully Wanda lets you take your time and you slowly lean in close until your face grazes her sweater. Your head immediately drops on it, beaming. It’s even softer than it looks. Wanda smiles at you as she offers you a blanket, which you graciously accept. 

“So....are we, like, a thing?” you ask her.

“Do you want to be?” she asks.

You glance away, feeling shy and nod slightly.

“Yeah....I’ve been in love with you for a long time now.”

“Then we’ll be a couple.”

Your heart is beating wildly, all sorts of happy thoughts flying through your heart and your head. You and Wanda cuddle on the couch for a while when something catches your eye. You look to the ceiling, and right above you and Wanda, is a sprig of mistletoe. She notices and looks up.

“Oh!” she exclaims smiling, her face turning red.

You two look at each other, both of your faces rose-red. 

“Oh my.”

You hear Vision’s voice and turn to see him entering with another plate of cookies. 

“I’ve heard that mistletoe is used to ward off witches and demons. Also that lovers are to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” you shrug, trying to stay calm. 

“Steve told me to hang it there,” Vision admits. “I have to wonder if he knew this would happen.”

Wanda giggles again.

“I imagine he knew something would happen.”

She glances to you.

“Do you....want to?”

Can your face get any redder? Apparently. You nod hesitantly, leaning forward, uncertain of how to approach this. After some blushing and contemplation, you decide to just go for it and give her a sweet peck on the lips. You feel fluttery and on Cloud Nine. Wanda leans in and gently places a kiss on your lips, longer than a peck. You can taste a small scent of frosting, almost as sweet as she is. Slowly she pulls back. 

“I love you so much,” she replies softly with a gentle smile.

You turn your face away, but she gently guides it back. 

“No need to hide,” she assures you. “I love to see your beautiful face.”

The two of you look at each other for a while.

“I...I love you even more,” you reply.

“No, I love you more,” she giggles, booping your nose.

It twitches like a little bunny rabbit’s in response. 

“No, I love you more,” you smile, booping hers in return, and she also twitches it like a little bunny rabbit’s nose.

“No, I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.”

“I love you to the ends of the earth.”

“I love you to the moon and back.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-hundred.”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-thousand!”

“I love you to the moon and back times one-million!”

“I love you to Pluto and back times one-billion!”

“I love you to the ends of the multiverse and beyond!”

This goes on for some time. Sure, it’s sappy, but you love it. You two end up in a fit of giggles and nose-booping before turning on some classic Disney films and cuddling up close. By the time the others return, you and Wanda are falling asleep to The Winnie-the-Pooh Movie with you leaning your head on her sweater and smiling. 

The others may know that you and Wanda are a thing. But how you two became a couple? That’s between you and her. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

There's a team of heroes vs one villain in the town and one of the heroes gives the others away when they all decide cover up something awful. Villain applauds the hero for coming forward, showering them in praise and affection, but Hero is apprehensive about everything because under the masks they still were friends with the other heroes- and they betrayed them. With no friends and no job, however, they keep coming to Villain for their needs.

Request #16

Warning: torture, descriptions of harm & wounds.

Here you go! 💖💖

~~~~

Hero couldn't believe what lay before their eyes. While they were out on patrol, their teammates had called them, telling them to get back to base immediately. Apparently, they had caught one of Villain's henchmen and were in the middle of interrogating them.

This, however, was not how Hero imagined their 'interrogation' would look like. Henchman's bruised and bloodied body was lying on the cold stone floor, shaking, their breathing dangerously heavy. "W-What happened?!"

"Oh, yeah, they didn't wanna talk, so we had to uh... get a little rough, ya know?" - Second Hero answered, calm and unbothered, Third Hero and Fourth Hero equally unconcerned.

"Anyway, where were we?" - Third Hero asked no one in particular as they moved closer to the fallen henchman. Calling forth their power, they continued, "This bitch still hasn't said a word."

Henchman tensed up, preparing for more pain, before Hero suddenly interrupted, "Hold on, uh- How about you let me take a crack at 'em, ay? And you guys go take a break; it looks like we're gonna be at it for a while."

The third hero considered their suggestion for a moment, not noticing the bead of sweat going down Hero's forehead, and then responded with a grin, "Aight, leave some for us to play with later, though."

The three blood-covered heroes exited the room chuckling, leaving Hero and Henchman alone. As the hero neared the beaten-up crook they tensed up, jaw locking tight.

They did flinch, however, as Hero's hand gently landed on their shoulder. The henchman dared a glance at them, and their confusion only grew as they saw the worry on the other's face. "Are- Are you alright?"

"..."

"Right, okay- you don't want to talk- uh... here." - Hero continued the one-sided conversation, carefully lifting Henchman into a bridal carry. The criminal tried to fight against them but only hissed as pain shot through their entire body. They rested their head against the hero's shoulder with a groan, letting them do as they pleased.

Hero called upon their power, their eyes glowing in the dimly lit room. Henchman was ready for pain, but to their surprise, the hero did not use their power to hurt them. Honestly, they weren't even sure what their power was, as they've never seen them use it.

The faint sound of pitter-patter caught their attention. The room's door opened, and through it came a... spider-shaped machine...? It was quite odd-looking, a short cylinder with some pointy legs attached to it, alongside what was probably cameras going all around its side, giving it three-sixty vision. The contraption was big, too, and apparently sturdy enough for the hero to stand atop it with the henchman still in their arms.

"W-Wha...?" - Henchman tried, but the Hero quickly cut them off, "I can control machines with my mind."

With a surge of power from the hero, the odd metallic spider moved again, taking them out of the interrogation room. It skittered along the ground before suddenly climbing onto the wall. Henchman yelped as they expected gravity to drag them to the floor but were surprised yet again as both humans and the robot moved horizontally to the ground without issue.

The henchman didn't even bother asking as they moved along the ceiling, traveling upside down; they just assumed it had something to do with magnets. They were very high up. The heroes' base had some awfully tall ceilings, but they supposed it was convenient in this scenario, as the two wouldn't easily be spotted. Upon looking up- or down? Whatever it was, they noticed they were currently in a lounge room, the other three heroes chatting amongst themself below them.

Both Henchman and Hero kept their mouths shut tight as they passed over the team and slithered into another room. Once the human chatter faded from their ears, they both let out a breath, the hero's machine speeding up, crawling to a nearby window.

As the cool outside air hit their face, the henchman let themself relax a bit in the other's hold, still confused but now more convinced that they were being helped. The sun had nearly set, and nighttime's darkness was slowly enveloping the city.

As the moon began rising into the sky, Hero and Henchman moved across rooftops and between alleyways, headed straight for Villain's lair.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You know, I probably should've asked earlier..." - Henchman began. The two were standing atop a building, looking down at the villain's lair. " But why are you... helping me?"

"..." - Hero was silent at first, a pained frown taking over their face as they thought about their teammates, their friends. They never expected the three would do something like this...

"I... I couldn't just let them hurt you like that. It- It wasn't right..."

Without another word from either of them, they descended down the side of the building and moved closer to the guards stationed outside. Before entering the henchmen's line of sight, Hero moved off their machine, hiding it nearby, and walked closer.

They immediately became surrounded, power-enhanced guns pointed right at the hero. They stood still as a rifle was pressed against the back of their head, and Henchman was carefully taken from them. Their arms were then forced behind their back and put into power-suppressing cuffs.

As the henchmen dragged them along, they could only ponder whether this was a good idea or not. Hero should've thought this through a little bit better, shouldn't they have? It was a very rash decision on their part, but they couldn't just stand by and let the poor henchman get tortured!

They- They were a hero. Their teammates too! All four of them were, or rather, they were supposed to be. And heroes- Heroes weren't supposed to hurt people...

Lost amidst their thoughts, Hero failed to realize that they were already standing before the villain's office. The doors swung open, and they were thrown inside, falling to their knees. Villain looked unsurprised; their henchmen had no doubt informed them of the intruder as soon as they had appeared.

The doors closed and locked, and Hero was now alone with the enemy. The villain was staring down at them, arms crossed and a calculating look in their eyes as if they were trying to figure something out.

Villain was the first to break the silence, "You brought Henchman back."

"So I did."

"...Why?"

Hero went to answer, but a frown returned to their face, the memory of seeing their friends being so casual about hurting someone... It... It just...

"It wasn't right..." - they muttered, the villain barely understanding their words. "They were hurting them... Torturing them..."

"And even though they're your teammates, you still went against them and saved one of my henchmen." - Villain said, a grin taking over their face as they knelt down to the other's level. The hero grew confused as the villain took hold of their chin, locking their eyes.

"I must say, Hero. This was very unexpected but brave of you."

"H-Huh?"

"So, what are you going to do now? Do you have any... evidence of what your little friends did?" - Villain continued as they undid their restraints, letting them stand.

Hero's eyes widened both at the villain's actions and as they realized that they did, in fact, have something, "The security footage..."

"Well, there ya go!" - the villain exclaimed, giving them an oddly reassuring pat on the shoulder. Why were they suddenly being so friendly to the hero? Not to mention they just... uncuffed them like it was nothing!

"Hey, uh... Villain?" - Hero started, uncertainty clear in their voice. They watched as the criminal moved to their desk and sat down. They trailed after them and continued, "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but um... why the sudden... friendliness?"

"You saved one of mine and returned them to me. Is it bad that I'm grateful?" - Villain responded, tilting their head to the side and observing the hero curiously. Hero seemed a bit shocked, if not flustered at their reply.

"Ah, well, no- it's not a bad thing! I just- uh-" - Hero attempted a reply, but the villain's chuckle ended their ramble. They stood there unsure of how to proceed and just let the other talk.

"Why don't I repay you, hmm?" - Villain asked with a smirk and a look that made Hero's face hot.

"Uh- Repay me h-how?"

"I'll help you bring your friend's misdeed to light." - they answered, adoring the slight embarrassment the hero couldn't hide. They obviously knew where Hero thought that was going to go; they made them think that on purpose. Villain just couldn't help themself; the hero was always so adorable when they tried to avoid their gaze in that shy manner of theirs.

"O-Oh, right."

Giving Hero an amused look, the villain stood and went for the door, motioning for them to follow. Together, they went to expose the hero's teammates.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A few weeks had gone by, and the footage of Hero's teammates torturing Henchman had gone viral online. Millions of people had seen it already and were raising hell, demanding answers from Organization.

The hero had also stepped forward and spoke about it. They thought that this was the right thing to do. They thought that the higher-ups would be pleased with them for bringing such a crime to light. But instead of praise, Hero was met with hostility and threats. They had no choice but to leave behind their heroic work and go into hiding.

As the days went by, they became more and more paranoid, terrified that the organization would find and catch them. Luck, however, seemed to be on their side. A little while after they had gone off the radar, the villain had found them and offered them their help.

Hero was very apprehensive about taking up their offer but nonetheless found themself regularly coming back to Villain's lair. With no job and no friends of any kind, the villain was now, ironically, their only ally.

You'd think that Hero could just find a new job, right? Something normal for a change, but no. That was unfortunately not an option; not only did their teammates know what their face looked like, but so did the rest of the world now. Organization had exposed their face to the globe, and now there was no going back.

They pondered over all of this, questioning what to do. At first, Hero had been living off of whatever scraps they could find, only occasionally coming to Villain for help. But now? They were practically living in their lair, and they hated it. It made them feel like a leech.

Another thing that bothered the hero greatly was that not only did the villain supply them with food and shelter, but they also, at some point, started to take care of their more... emotional needs. Reassuring them, praising them, holding them, it- it was confusing but... welcome...

And it was actually happening right now. The two were currently in Villain's courters, lying on their bed. The villain was on their back, with the hero on top of them, their bodies facing each other. Hero's face burned hotter than the sun as they cuddled, the other's arms wrapped around them, one hand petting their head. How they got into this situation, Hero did not know.

"You know my other offer still stands, right?" - Villain asked softly, breaking them out of their thoughts. The hero snuggled their face deeper into their chest, too embarrassed to look at them before muttering, "I know..."

"Then why not take it? I'd love it if you joined me." - the villain whispered in their ear, making them shiver a bit. Hero had to admit, they have considered the offer quite a few times now. They just... weren't sure if they'd be...

"Would I even be good enough for this...?" - the hero questioned, slightly tilting their head so that they could glance at the other. Villain's hand moved from their head to their chin, lifting it and locking their eyes.

"Oh, of course, you'd be good enough! You'd be even better than that!" - the villain reassured, a gentle look overtaking their features.

"R-Really?" - the hero was still unsure, but they couldn't help but relax under the criminal's gaze and touch.

"Yes, really. After all, you saved my henchman so exceptionally! Sneaking around those heroes and through the city like it was nothing!" - Villain praised, and Hero found themself slowly believing them.

They lay there silently for a moment, Hero battling internally before finally deciding, "A-Alright, I... I'll join you!"

"Marvelous~." - the villain purred, and a new chapter began for both of them.

[iam93percentstardust]

Fireflies

I wrote a little ironfalcon & sarahbucky fic! Thank you to @warmachinesocks for sensitivity reading it for me, I really appreciate the help!

This fic is also on ao3 but tumblr hates links so no links for you

~

The first thing Bucky sees when he walks through the door of Sarah’s house—Sarah’s house! He gets to stay with Sarah!—is Tony Stark washing the dishes. He stops in the doorway, not sure why he’s so surprised to see Stark there—he’d known that Stark had retired somewhere quiet after the battle with Thanos—but he definitely is. He hesitates, not sure if he can—or should—say something. Sure, he and Tony had talked things out after the battle, cleared the air between them, but he’d assumed that was based on them never having to see each other again.

“It’s rude to lurk in doorways,” Tony says, before he can think of anything to say.

“Uh,” Bucky says intelligently. Then, “What are you doing here?” He winces. His ma would absolutely have something to say about how rude he’s being if she could hear him.

Fortunately, Tony just chuckles and says, “I live here. What are you doing here, Freezer Pop?”

“You live here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Sam says from behind him, startling him enough that he jumps. “Now get out of the way, Barnes. You’re blocking the door.”

Bucky steps inside, clutching his overnight bag in front of him like the shield he hadn’t thought he would need. Sarah and the boys are right behind Sam, and Bucky gives her a shy smile. She smiles back at him before ducking her head, and now that she’s turned away, Bucky looks back at Sam, who has made a beeline straight for Tony.

“Hey sweetheart,” Sam says in the softest voice Bucky has ever heard from him.

Tony leans over to kiss Sam’s cheek. “Hey, honey. How’s the boat?”

“Looking good,” Sarah says. “No thanks to you.” Bucky starts to get a little worried, but Sarah is grinning as she says it and Tony’s expression is one of mock outrage so he relaxes again.

“Excuse you,” Tony says in a faux-offended voice, “I was busy for five years.”

“Yeah, taking care of my boys and being an Avenger, so you’ve said many times. But what, you forgot about my poor boat?”

“Hey, I did offer to help pay for the repairs.”

Sarah’s face softens and she walks over to rub Tony’s metal shoulder, uncovered by the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing. “And that was sweet of you,” she says. “But I could told you I could—”

“—take care of it,” Tony finishes. “Yeah, you said.”

Sam rejoins Bucky by the door and tugs his bag from Bucky’s limp hand. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the living room. “They’re gonna be at it for a while. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

As they’re heading into the living room, Bucky quietly asks, “So how long have you and Stark—”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that,” Sam interrupts. “Just call him Tony, he hates Stark or Mr. Stark or anything else like that. And since 2005. We met working on the EXO-7 project. He was my technician. Got married right after he came back from Afghanistan.”

He remembers Steve telling him about Sam taking the plea deal after the Avengers split. Steve hadn’t been able to understand it, but he thinks about how they’d all understood Clint and Scott taking the same deal for their families and wonders if it was something like that.

“And how did you handle the—uh—”

Sam gives him a flat look. “With a lot of communication and a little bit of make-up sex,” he says. “When you’ve been together as long as we have, that’s something you learn.”

“What, that make-up sex helps?”

“That communication is important. And trust me, it can feel like pulling teeth, trying to get Tony to talk, but it’s worth it.” He plops down on the couch and motions for Bucky to sit down next to him, waiting until Bucky does before he continues, “Speaking of communication, a couple things about Sarah since you’re clearly going to ignore the Bro Code.”

“The Bro Code?”

“Yeah, don’t date sisters of friends, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t think that was a thing in the forties.”

“I’m pretty sure it was.”

“No, I think I’d remember that.”

“Steve didn’t have a sister, why would you remember that? Besides, your memory is as good as swiss cheese, and don’t think I missed you not arguing with me about that friend thing. Anyway, the Bro Code, since you’re ignoring it—”

From where they’re sitting, Bucky can see Sarah in the kitchen, putting away leftovers that someone had brought them while they’d been working. She looks real pretty with the evening sunlight lighting her from behind, making her glow like an angel. Bucky smiles a little, thinking about the way she’d laughed at his horrible jokes.

“Seriously man,” Sam interrupts. “Smitten-with-a-capital-s. Now look, Sarah’s had it rough these last few months. Blipped just like you and me, only she had to come back to a rundown boat and her boys all grown up. Tony did what he could around here, but he was grieving too and he had the duties of being an Avenger on top of taking care of AJ and Cass. He forgot about taking care of the boat and Sarah’s paying for it now. She’s been hurt a lot, so if your intention is something quick and then leaving her just like her husband, it’s not just me you’ll have to answer to. It’s Tony too, and the whole town on top of us. We look out for each other around this area.”

“Yeah, I got that today when the whole town showed up to help out.”

Sam grins and shakes his head, seemingly awed that he and Sarah would inspire enough loyalty for people to come help them. Bucky doesn’t get it. Both Wilson siblings are absolutely incredible. Hell, only a few weeks ago, he himself thought he’d be happy if he never had to deal with Sam ever again and now he’s staying at the man’s family home.

“My point is—” Sam begins.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, I know you’re not giving that man a shovel talk,” Sarah interjects, coming into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. “You’re gonna scare him off, same as you did to all my boyfriends back in high school.”

Sam holds his hands up. “I’m just making sure he knows to treat you right.”

“Believe me, the poor man knows. Besides, I don’t need you to do that. I’m more than capable of making sure he treats me right all by myself.”

Bucky thinks about what that might mean and shivers pleasurably.

“Look at him, you broke the poor guy’s brain,” Tony complains. “AJ and Cass Wilson, can the two of you set the table?”

“Aww Uncle Tony, do we have to?” AJ complains.

“Hmm, how about you set the table or I’ll sell all your toys.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” AJ says, but gets up anyway and joins his brother in the kitchen.

“I might if you keep challenging me,” Tony shoots back, but there’s no heat to his voice and AJ is still grinning as he grabs plates out of the cupboard so Bucky turns back to Sam and Sarah, who have gotten quieter now that they’ve got an audience beyond just him.

“—want to see you taken care of the way you should be,” Sam is saying.

Sarah’s face softens. “Thanks. I don’t need it—”

“—but you should be anyway. After all you’ve done for our family, you deserve it.”

They both glance at Bucky, who smiles quickly to try to assure them that he’s a great option for Sarah. He’d heard some of the things the townspeople were saying about her while they were working on the boat today: she’s an impressive woman and all he wants to do right now is to prove that he’s worthy of her.

“Well,” Sam says eventually. “I guess there are worse people you could go for.”

“Gee, thanks, Sam,” Bucky says flatly.

“No problem, man.” He looks back at Sarah. “Fine, I’ll lay off of him. But the first time he hurts you—”

“—you’ll let me handle it like the grown-up I am?” Sarah finishes firmly, hands on her hips. She seems to decide that the conversation is clearly over because she heads back into the kitchen, swatting Tony away from the sauce on the stovetop with a wooden spoon.

Sam deflates. “Yeah, okay,” he calls after her. “I’ll let you handle it.”

“Hey, I get it,” Bucky offers quietly. “I had sisters too and they hated it when I got involved with their relationships.”

“She deserves the best. And I really hope that you can be the one to give it to her. I saw how she looked at you. I haven’t seen her look like that since high school.” There’s a pensive look in his eyes, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing that look.”

“I like her too,” Bucky tries to assure him. “I don’t want to hurt her.” He hesitates, then adds, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Except maybe Walker.”

Sam laughs. “You and me both.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Tony says cheerfully, coming back into the living room. “Sarah says it’s dinner time.”

Dinner is a loud affair, full of the boys talking about what they’ve been up to with their friends, Sam and Sarah bickering about repairs that need to happen on the boat, Tony and Bucky comparing their prosthetics (Tony’s arm is Stark Tech and he’s curious about how it compares to Bucky’s Wakandan one), and Sam, Tony, and Bucky discussing what’s going to happen with Walker now that the shield’s been taken away from him.

“I don’t think this is over,” Tony says, and Bucky agrees with him, remembering how much more determined Steve had gotten every time an opportunity had been taken away from him, but Sam is less sure.

“He’s grieving. I don’t think he’s in any state to be trying to take the shield back,” Sam argues.

“Grieving men can be unpredictable. You said he didn’t catch Karli, that’s got to be weighing on him,” Tony replies. He eyes the shield in its leather case, leaning up against the wall. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt because he decides the shield is still his. Him with that serum, it concerns me. You don’t have that kind of advantage.”

“I don’t want that kind of advantage,” Sam says, surprising Bucky. He’d known Sam is leery of the serum, not nearly as bad as Zemo but still uncomfortable with it. Tony doesn’t seem surprised though, just nods understandably.

“I know,” he agrees. “But I still worry.”

Bucky interjects, “Hopefully the suit the Wakandans made will help even the playing field some.”

Tony blinks.

“You got a new suit?” Sarah asks.

“And I didn’t make it?” Tony asks.

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Sam says, “but yes. Bucky asked for a favor after Walker destroyed the old one.”

“Hmph,” Tony says grumpily, softening only when Sam leans over to kiss his cheek. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. Shuri’s tech is incredible. The things that girl can do with vibranium… blows that shield out of the water.”

“Is she still refusing to let you take a look at T’Challa’s suit?”

“Yes.”

“They’re very protective of it,” Bucky says.

“And I don’t blame them,” Tony says quickly. “It would just be nice.” He glances at Sam pleadingly, who laughs.

“I’m not gonna let you take a look at it either.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly, but doesn’t complain any further, instead turning to Sarah to ask her about something with the boat. Bucky eagerly joins in, interested in hearing more about Sarah’s life. It’s so different from his, even before the war. He wants to learn everything he can, both about the boat and about her.

By the time dinner is over, he’s stuffed, something that rarely happens. The serum means he has a higher metabolism than the average person, which also means that he’s typically hungrier, and when he’d been with HYDRA, they hadn’t worried about making sure their Asset was well-fed. He offers to help the boys clear the dishes, hoping that will impress Sarah. She smiles at him, but heads out to the porch. The sun is setting over the bayou, and Bucky can just barely make her out through the glare from the sun.

He watches her a little wistfully until Tony comes up beside him and passes him two glasses of sweet tea. “What’s this for?” he asks.

Tony jerks his head toward the door. “She likes to watch the fireflies.”

Sam passes him with an armful of plates on his way to the dishwasher. “Better make sure you grab some bug spray. The mosquitoes are vicious at this time of day.”

“I heal fast,” he says confusedly.

“But it’ll show you’re thinking of her,” Sam says as Tony grabs a can from under the sink and slaps it into Bucky’s empty hand. “Go on, we’ve got this.”

“You’re sure?”

Sam and Tony share a wordless glance. Bucky can’t quite tell what they’re thinking. “Yeah,” Sam says after a moment. “Really, man, get out there.”

So Bucky gets.

Sarah glances up at him when he steps out onto the porch, smiles, and then moves aside on the swing for him to join her. “Let me guess, Tony told you to come out,” she says dryly.

“How’d you know?”

“He likes to think of himself as a matchmaker.”

Bucky hesitates in passing her one of the glasses. “Is that a problem?”

She takes the glass out of his hand, deliberately brushing her fingers against his. “Only if you think it is.”

In answer, Bucky hands her the bug spray too. Her smile broadens.

“Thanks,” she says. “You ever watched fireflies before?”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t have them in New York.”

“That’s a shame. They’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

They’re silent for a moment, both sipping from their glasses. Then Sarah says, “You can put your arm around me, you know.”

Bucky glances at her quickly and then slowly puts his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, warm and perfect and slotting just right beside him. It’s nice, he thinks, and he leans his head on top of hers. She makes a pleased sound and snuggles just a little bit closer. He lets out a long sigh, feeling the tension drain out of him as the first few fireflies twinkle in the gathering dusk.

[fruitydiaz-archived]

that’s my boy

eddie slips up after a successful rescue on a call and, while looking at buck looking beautiful and overjoyed, says “that’s my boy” to himself. except chim, hen, and bobby are all there when he says it.

buddie, pre-relationship, sweet fluff, pining

2,184 words

AO3 link

—

That’s my boy.

Eddie doesn’t mean to say it. It’s not like it’s even a phrase that he thinks often — not in regards to Buck.

Okay, so maybe, every once in a while Eddie will look at him doing something that is so whole-heartedly Buck — like performing a rope rescue when an apartment complex is on fire, or risking his life to save his ex-girlfriend’s fiance because he made a promise, because he’s always ready and willing to fall on the sword for the people he loves, even after they’ve hurt him, (Eddie wishes he wouldn’t do that so often, actually, but he understands), or organizing a Christmas party with Athena and inviting his whole family because he knew how upset they were that he wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them, or building gingerbread houses with Chris and Denny — and being happy to do it nonetheless. Just occasional things like that that make Eddie pause and make pride swell up inside him and remind him just how much he loves this man — despite all of the stress and anguish he causes him on a regular basis.

Which, is also, not something he thinks about often. The love thing, that is. The stress and anguish — that’s constant.

But when they’re on a call and Buck is ripping his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his forehead, skipping after the ambulance as it pulls away, overjoyed that his on-his-feet thinking and bull-headed determination saved yet another life, Eddie can’t help it when he smiles fondly, shakes his head, and chuckles to himself.

“That’s my boy.”

He doesn’t really process what he’s said until he looks back up and sees Hen, Chimney, and Bobby all staring at him. Chimney’s stopped chewing on his gum, mouth hanging a little open, Hen’s frozen with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and Bobby’s looking at him with that look he gets when another imaginary piece of some metaphorical puzzle that only he is privy to falls into place. He tends to look at Eddie like that often, especially around Buck.

Eddie just stares back at them, tilting his head to the side a little, and pursing his lips.

“Your boy?” Hen prompts eventually, an amused grin slowly spreading on her face. Eddie feels his cheeks warm but shakes his head in confusion.

“What? I didn’t say—” Chimney starts shaking his head violently, cutting Eddie off.

“Nope, nope, you definitely did say those words.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue that no he didn’t otherwise he would remember and also he’s never once said those words about Buck out loud so, of course, he wouldn’t — but Bobby holds his hand up, silencing all of them. Eddie tries hard to convince himself that the smirk on Bobby’s face isn’t also amused, because he likes to think that Bobby’s above all that. He’s their Captain, after all.

“Alright, you guys. Let’s wrap this up, okay?” Bobby says gently, gesturing to the scene in front of them. Eddie nods, avoiding making eye contact with either Hen or Chimney.

He does sneak a glance at Buck, eventually. He can’t really help himself. Buck’s like a magnet for him. He’s pretty sure he’d be able to spot Buck instantly, in any crowd, on any day. It’s partially this itch he has, this need to know where the people he cares about are, at all times, just to know that they’re safe. But also, there’s just a natural gravity that Buck has. Eddie always finds himself being pulled closer and closer.

It’s golden hour and Buck’s leaning against a post on the side of the street, talking to Athena and Bobby, making exaggerated gestures with his hands as he relays what just happened to them, even though they were right there with him. His hair looks soft and tousled, like it always does when he pulls his helmet off at the end of a call. The sunlight is hitting it just so, illuminating the edges of it and making it glow golden, like a halo around Buck’s head. Warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest at the sight.

That’s my boy.

When he turns back to the scene Hen and Chimney are smirking at him again. He rolls his eyes, finishes packing up, and spins to jog back to the truck.

Eddie likes to make his home in denial. It’s an island that keeps him safe, keeps him away from all of the things that could hurt him — like the reality of his feelings.

He’s known for a while that he feels something for Buck — he’s just not always sure what that feeling is. The thing about his feelings for Buck is that...not only are they absolutely terrifying to him — but they’re also confusing. He doesn’t fully understand his feelings because he’s not sure they're anything he’s ever felt before, not all at once, at least. He wasn’t expecting this — not from Buck.

Eddie doesn’t let a lot of people get close to him. It’s just a thing that he developed in his childhood that got stronger over time, the more he experienced loving and losing people. You don’t let people close, you don’t get hurt when they leave. That’s a simple fact.

But Buck hadn’t listened to that. Buck didn’t care that Eddie was scared of letting him in only for him to leave — because for Buck leaving wasn’t even an option. He had fucked up once and he spent every single moment since doing his damned best to make sure Eddie knew that he was ride or die, with him ‘till the end of the line. And he meant it, Eddie knew that.

So it could be easy for Eddie to look at Buck and be grateful that he has a friend like that, a support system that, no matter how hard either one of them tried, they couldn’t fuck up. But Eddie’s never felt the way he feels about Buck for anyone, ever. He had close friends in his childhood, and they always said they would be together forever, but none of them were around anymore. What did they have to base their loyalty off of, anyway? It was never serious when they said it, it was kid stuff.

And in his adulthood, most of his friends were from the army. They shared a lot of experiences that nobody else would understand, and came a lot closer than your average friendship, given the circumstances, but none of them made Eddie feel the way he does about Buck.

Certainly, no one looked at Christopher the way Buck did, save for his own family, and that was enough to throw Eddie’s entire body into some strange whirlpool of emotions he rarely let himself get swept up in.

Chris was Eddie’s entire world. He wanted to protect him from every hurt imaginable, even when he knew he couldn’t. Sometimes that protectiveness led to him making mistakes — but he was a parent and that was bound to happen, and he had to learn how to adjust, how to step back, and let Christopher find out things on his own. He had to let him get hurt, sometimes, and then encourage him to get back up.

But the hurt Eddie wanted to protect him from most of all was the hurt of abandonment. He never wanted to let another person into his life again, not without knowing that they would stay.

And Buck? Buck would do anything for Christopher. He never even had to say it because Eddie just knew. He said it in all of his actions, the way he walked all day after the tsunami, bleeding from his arm, collapsing in exhaustion only after he saw that Chris was safe. The way he encouraged him to never give up, to find a way to do whatever he wants. He loves Chris, and that makes Eddie love him even more.

He’s loved people before. Even if he’s not one to say it often, not in those words at least, he recognizes it when he feels it. He loves his family, his parents, his sisters, his aunt, his Abuela — even when they’re overstepping his carefully set boundaries. He loved the guys in his unit. He loved Shannon, he loves Christopher. He loves everyone at the 118, the family he chose.

But Buck is something different. Buck is something he’s never felt before.

When he realized he loved Shannon, it was like a hurricane that came out of nowhere, rushing over him, drenching him in its rains, pulling him in every direction, and leaving him entirely breathless. She was a perfect storm of love and chaos. One that he doesn’t regret, but one that he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to experience again. He’s not sure he could survive that kind of devastation again.

But Buck wasn’t anything like that, even though Eddie’s pretty sure that he should be, with all of his fierce love and reckless abandon. Eddie realized he loved Buck like watching a sunrise, slowly, gradually, growing warmer and brighter over time. He was a sight that made your chest ache from its beauty, one of those things that made you feel lucky to be alive, one of those things that made you feel like you were blessed to witness it.

He left Eddie feeling stunned and off-balance, but warm, and comforted at the same time. The thing about sunrises was that you could always count on them to come back around the next day. No matter what storms the night before brought, the sun was always there in the morning.

Buck made Eddie feel safe.

That’s my boy.

He’s packing up his gear in the truck when he spots Buck out of the corner of his eye, jogging towards him. He pretends to ignore him, ducking his head and smiling to himself as he shuts the door on the truck.

“Hey man, did you see that?” Buck says as he approaches Eddie. His voice is light and airy, like he’s a little out of breath from the jog over, which would make sense since he’s still got at least 70 pounds of gear on him. But he doesn’t look bothered by it at all. He just clasps his hands together and smiles at Eddie with that giant, overly pleased, and just on the verge of shy smile — the one he always shares with Eddie.

Eddie leans against the truck casually, crossing his arms and nodding at Buck, smiling.

“Yeah, I saw it. You did good, kid.” His heart constricts at the way Buck lights up at the praise. It’s times like these where he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him, card a hand through his hair and then bring him in gently, tucking Buck’s face into his neck and holding him close, whispering all the words of encouragement he never got to hear when he was younger.

But he settles for this, standing at arm's length and keeping his praise to a minimum.

“We did good,” Buck corrects, punching Eddie’s shoulder lightly. “We make a good team.”

The team, Eddie knows, consists of Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Buck, and him. But when Buck looks at him like that, when he says things like that, it makes him feel like it's about just the two of them.

Buck’s matching his position, leaning against the truck now, looking down at Eddie with his flushed face and his sweet smile. It’s like they’re the only two people in the world. It’s an intoxicating feeling, so addictive that Eddie often wishes that he could just let himself get lost in it, soak up all of the love and attention that just radiates off of Buck, stretch out in the sunlight and just let it warm him all over, be utterly and unashamedly selfish with it. To relish in that love that he’s not always sure he deserves.

He opens his mouth, not sure what exactly he’s going to say next, when Hen appears behind him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Eddie, you and your boy ready to head back home or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty all night?” She shoots him a sly grin over her shoulder as she passes by them to climb into the truck. Eddie freezes a little at the teasing, not sure what he’ll say if Buck turns to him, tilts his head, and asks what did she mean by your boy?

But he doesn’t tilt his head in question at all. His eyes lock with Eddie’s for just a second and the corners of his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. Eddie feels his breath get trapped somewhere in his chest and then Buck turns away and disappears into the truck.

He hangs back for a bit, struggling to catch his breath again, nodding at Chimney and Bobby as they brush past him. Bobby pauses before he rounds the truck, looking back at Eddie with an amused smile.

“You good, Diaz?” He calls. Eddie looks away before nodding, waving a hand, and pulling the door open.

“All good, Cap.”

[corpsentry]

ao3 mirror

fandom: age of calamity, botw rating: g starring: prince sidon and mipha note: spoilers for both games

"You know, Daruk’s my idol,” Yunobo says. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” Sidon says. He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands for long enough to look up blankly at him. "Mipha was my sister."

the age of calamity, side b.

The thing about time travel is, even if someone stands in front of you and tells you point-blank that there’s a way to bring your dead sister back to life, you’re probably not going to believe them.

“I don’t believe you,” says Sidon.

“Okay,” Teba says patiently, fluffing his feathers with an absent glide of his wing. “Try harder.”

Sidon stares at him. He tries harder, though he’s not sure what that entails and so doesn’t end up really doing anything. “I don’t get you.”

“Which part don’t you get?”

“I get to see Mipha again?”

Teba’s eyebrow twitches. “Let me put this as simply as I can, Prince,” he says, a little too loudly. The soldier stationed at the bottom of the staircase turns to look at them. “We’re going to go back to the point a hundred years ago at which the four champions were killed in their divine beasts. We’re going to save them. We’re going to make sure they defeat Ganon before he can send Hyrule into ruin. And then we’re going to leave.”

By now, they’ve caught everyone’s attention. It’s been a long time since a hundred years ago, but here in Zora’s Domain it still feels like the events of last Tuesday, to be recounted over salt tea and fish skewers, to be mourned over an empty coffin. Everyone’s staring at the big white bird with the angry eyebrows, a little curious, a little apprehensive. For what he’s worth, Teba is indifferent. This much will not faze him.

Sidon twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where Teba cannot see them and the guards at the bottom of the staircase can point and laugh all they want. To be honest, he heard nothing. His heart stopped when he heard ‘killed in their divine beasts’, at which point a watery monster punched its way into his skull and crushed his brain. The monster is nothing concrete, nothing crystal-clear, just what little Link has told him, bits and pieces of a history he was prevented from taking part in. It’s been several months since the kid dragged his beaten-up body halfway across Hyrule and kicked Ganon’s ass, though they’re still feeling the after-effects of that particular calamity today. Mipha’s statue still looms over their heads, a reminder of what it means to die alone and far away from home.

“So,” Sidon starts, hearing his voice echoing in his ears like metal slicing through air. “What you’re saying is, I get to see Mipha again.”

Teba looks like he wants to grab one of the guards’ spears and stab Sidon in the face, but for what he’s worth, he reigns it in. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He grins. “I’m in.”

::

He tried to fight a lynel when he was fifteen. The domain had been overrun with monsters who had arrived for the pre-party to Ganon’s return, including an outstanding number of wizzrobes, several moblins, and a tall, intimidating figure which spat electricity from its pink-tongued mouth and whose name he couldn’t recall. While his father, the king, and his sister, the princess, breezed through the area like a lightning strike, reclaiming keeps and stabbing moblins with silver teeth so their generals could forge a path ahead, Sidon reveled in the wonder of being left unsupervised at four a.m. in the morning. And then heard the familiar, haunting roar of a lynel. And then decided to go and say hi.

It was a mistake, of course. The lynel was so tall he couldn’t make out the gear on its back. Its face was all squished up, like a birthday cake that had been stepped on, and its horns were too big for its thick, blocky nose. This was funny for all of five seconds. Then the lynel extracted a bow from that unknowable space behind it and aimed the sharp end of an arrow at his face, and it became a problem.

“H-h-h-hi,” said Sidon, holding up his Kid Spear, which was strictly for Kid Use Only, and had the offensive capabilities of a stick.

“RHOOARHGHHGHH,” said the lynel.

He jabbed the Kid Spear at the lynel’s leg. The lynel spat at him, though probably unintentionally, as it seemed preoccupied with the arrow it was trying to send into his face. It was stuck. The big scary lynel’s bow was stuck.

Emboldened by the stupid scary lynel’s broken bow, Sidon decided to try again. “Please go away, Mr. Lynel,” he said in his best and most charming Kid Prince voice, twirling his Kid Spear like a sweet jellyfish skewer.

“RHOAHOARHAGHOGHHHH,” said the lynel, who sounded significantly angrier than before.

“I understand,” Sidon said politely, and then closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way he had been taught to since he was old enough to speak, the way every child in Hyrule knew that there was a place for them to go to after they left this world behind). He braced for impact, which he hoped would be of the violent sort, earth-shattering and brisk enough to break his bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. He was fifteen, not five. This was Ganon’s era. Every living creature in Hyrule knew this, the way their ancestors woke up and knew which direction the sun would rise from. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When your people die. When the knight emerges from the woods with the sacred sword in his hand, and saves you all.

But none came. When he opened his eyes, and he did so reluctantly, adrenalin coursing through his veins like thunder, the world was pitch black. In place of the cool blue moon was his sister, her ceremonial gear glittering darkly, the Lightscale Trident glowing like a star in her right hand.

“Holy shit,” whispered Sidon the kid. Mipha stabbed the lynel in the face.

She hugged him when it was all over and they had put the moblins and the wizzrobes and the electric moblin (so that’s what it was! Terrifying) back to sleep. Their father was upset, but he was frequently upset at Sidon and so it didn’t bother him as much as it could have. Sidon was not Mipha. It was all right if he got things wrong, as long as his sister never did. Coincidentally, the Hylian princess had been in the area at the time of the attack, accompanied by a knight with blue eyes and a Sheikah warrior who looked like she would throw a knife at a fish for sport. It was a good thing Mipha had been at home, and not visiting one of the other tribes or hunting for crabs near Lurelin. It was a good thing she had intervened when she had, lest the pre-party become the real thing.

“Thank you,” said the Hylian princess, trying her best to smooth her brow and failing. She looked anxious, though she had only come to pass on her father’s word, though the word that she had brought was victory.

Mipha smiled at her with a face full of sun. “It is my pleasure.”

::

He wishes the egg could talk. If the egg could talk then Teba would have less reason to talk, and if Teba talked less then Sidon would have less of a raging headache, which which would make him less of an asshole, which would make their discussions go much more smoothly than the janky, sputtering mess they’ve been all week.

“As I was saying,” says Teba, continuing whatever train of thought he picked up on their way up to Goron City and then dumped unceremoniously by the side of the road. As he does this, Death Mountain spits a chunk of lava out of its steaming gaping top, which lands a few inches shy of his breastplate. He hops backwards without missing a beat and begins fanning himself with one wing.

Riju stops fiddling with the diamond circlet in her hands for long enough to give him a look of inquiry. “As you were saying?”

“I can’t wait to see Daruk.” Yunobo scratches his arm. It makes a sound like two large boulders grinding together. Riju drops the circlet.

“You’re only going to see him for a short while,” Teba comments over the sound of the egg blowing its top at Riju and Sidon plugging his ears with his fingers. “No point getting all worked up about it.”

“You’re just as worked up yourself,” Riju counters. Patricia barks. Teba flinches.

This is true. There are two things Teba won’t shut up about. In ascending order of importance, they are 1) when they should depart for the alternate timeline in which they will prevent their respective ancestors from getting their spirits trapped in giant mechanical monsters for a hundred years, and 2) how incredible Revali is. Because Revali was the most powerful Rito warrior that ever walked the land (or flew over it, or blasted bomb arrows at it, whatever). Revali singlehandedly invented an entire style of aerial combat which involves launching yourself into the air with an updraft that defies the laws of the universe and then setting your surroundings on fire. Revali killed god.

Teba looks like he wants to go back to his wife and kid in Rito village. Good for him. Not all of them have bodies to put in coffins. “I just want to meet him once,” he says quietly.

Yunobo laughs, and it sounds like two extra large boulders grinding together. “Me too, brother.” He picks up the diamond circlet from the floor and puts it on his head like some kind of weird hat. “I’m going to tell Daruk how great he is. And then I’m going to go home.”

::

One time when they were much, much younger, before he woke up one morning and Mipha was three times his height, one of the guards brought back some durians. The durians were misshapen and spiky and smelled intimidating, though Sidon wouldn’t go as far as to say that the smell was unpleasant. The guard had obtained them from a merchant in the Faron region. He hadn’t meant to purchase them, but they were the last of her stock and she said she could only head home once she had sold everything. He empathized her.

At first they tried to open the durians with their hands, but this only produced several pricked fingers and left ominous and eerily substantial bloodstains everywhere, so someone brought out a spear, almost drove it through the table, and someone else brought out a carving knife. Halfway through the spectacle of watching one of the guards, who was thirty-seven and enjoyed collecting glowing stones as a hobby, attempt to de-spike an entire durian, the crowd parted abrutpyl.

“What are you all doing?” Mipha put her hand absently on Sidon’s head. He had been watching the ongoing debacle out of some kind of morbid curiosity, standing on tip-toes so he could peek over the top of the table, though now he had apparently been relegated to armrest.

“Trying to open this durian, your highness.”

Mipha laughed. His sister’s laugh was a delicate, heartrending affair, like trying to pull weeds from the bottom of a lake without breaking them at the stem. The weather at home was always more or less divine, but whenever Mipha laughed, Sidon swore it blasted a hole right through the clouds. If there were no clouds, then the hole appeared in the fabric of the sky instead. Mipha, at her brightest, was a walking catastrophe of sun.

Still chuckling a little, like she’d been made privy to a secret that none of them knew about, Mipha stepped up to the cutting board. “You have to do it like this,” she said cheerfully, digging her fingers into a seam in the durian’s shell like she’d been dealing with danger all her life.

Cue gasping. Cue the horrors of childbirth.

The durian was sweet. It was also a little goopy, but Sidon was no stranger to things which stuck to your fingers and refused to let go (he was one of those objects when it came to his sister, who he could rarely be found more than an arm’s length away from on any given day), so he felt for the little spiky fruit, and decided that he would make an effort to bring some back home when he went traveling himself in the future. While he examined the inside of the durian’s shell, which had been hollowed of fruit and had the texture of rough sandpaper, the guards crowded around Mipha and demanded that she share her secret to not getting stabbed to death by the fierce and terrifying durian. But either she didn’t know how to explain it to them, or they weren’t very good at listening, because she remained the only one capable of cracking open a durian with her bare hands for many, many years, up until she died while fighting a watery manifestation of Ganon inside the divine beast she had been told by the king of Hyrule to pilot to victory’s end. Then it was someone else’s turn to take over.

::

Painkillers for fish are a tricky affair. To begin with, charmingly little research has been conducted into the biology of the fish-person because the Zoras simply aren’t interested in how their bodies work, and while others have offered to do so in their place, among them several enthusiastic Sheikah researchers and one Hylian with a thing for huge glowing orbs, his people have never cared enough to give their consent. It’s a unique kind of apathy, one which stems from a place of privilege, or denial. They are, as a general statement of fact, very good at both.

“This will help.” Yunobo hands him a rock roast. Where did Yunobo get a rock roast from? Sidon frowns. They’re in the middle of the desert.

“Thanks,” Sidon says. Smiles. Kind of, like, holds the roast up to his mouth and gives it a sniff. It doesn’t smell half as good as durian. He puts it down.

It takes him several days to make sense of the convoluted sequence of events that Teba presented to him that day on the front door of the world he had rebuilt from scratch, surrounded by mystique and glamor and promising, in a breath of cold air, to bring his dead sister back to life. This makes it sound like he’s finished making sense of it all and will thus never be confused ever again, but if he’s to be entirely honest, he still doesn’t get it. He wants to. He’s scared to. He won’t look Teba in the eye.

“We should get going soon, don’t you think?” says Riju, who is twelve and somehow more put-together than all four of them combined. She pulls another book from the shelf and leaves it on the pile on the desk.

Yunobo shrugs loudly. “Doesn’t make a difference when we leave, does it? We could leave for Hyrule in twenty years, and we’d still end up at the same place.”

“But I want to save them,” Riju says earnestly. The pile behind her has been growing all afternoon, and will soon overtake her in height if she is not stopped. Mission preparation looks like archaeological excavation when you’re traveling backwards in time, and not forwards to some yet unknown destination. Ancient Sheikah records. Research journals. The writings of people who were obsessed with the events of a hundred years ago despite having no personal investment to speak of, and whose words carry with them a hint of reverence, even as they choreograph the funeral song of the old king. This is all that’s left of those ruins, aside from Link, who they’ve all quietly decided to keep uninformed of the current proceedings. Hyrule itself has been kept in the dark. No need for them to know about the maybes and the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. No need for more people to go crazy.

Sidon shuts the book in his hands with a thud. “But why?”

Riju’s eyes go wide. Drama queen. “Why what?”

Sidon opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. There’s a heat rash on the back of his neck which he can’t quite reach on his own. The elders had warned him about the desert, but the charm he received from Link has proven to be effective in all areas except for maintaining good skincare. He blinks dumbly at Riju, who has begun to flicker like the glassy surface of a pond. His eyes hurt.

“I mean, why do you.” His eyes hurt. His throat hurts. There’s something large and horrible stuck in his chest, and he can’t get it out. “Why do you want to save them?” There’s a durian in his rib cage. It must have lodged itself there when Teba glared at him like he was an idiot as he came face to face with the cruel reality of the universe, and it dawned on him like a dead body falling out of the sky that he would get to see Mipha one last time, and then he would have to come back. To a Hyrule without her. To the stupid stuck-up world that had to try again and again and again, coughing up blood and dragging itself through the dirt on bruised knees, before it could defeat the monster. “It’s not like they’ll come back to life,” he says, each word a silver knife in his mouth. “They’ll stay dead here. They’re already dead.”

Silence.

Riju has let everything go, including the diamond circlet, the topaz earrings, and three volumes sheathed in gold. Yunobo’s mouth is open so wide, you could stick your head inside and take a look around if you leaned in close enough. For the first time since he met him, Teba is at a loss for words. His chest rises and falls erratically, his hand on the bookshelf quivering, his eyebrows doing a little dance on his forehead. He’s sweating. Of course he is. They’re in the desert.

Riju, Hylia bless her soul, is the first to speak.

“It’s the spirit of things,” she says softly. She looks sadder than any twelve-year-old should ever have to look. But then and again, Sidon was barely old enough to hold a spear with both hands when his sister died and everything went to shit. Then and again, everything goes away eventually.

Sidon stares at her helplessly for a moment, gulping the humid air of the library like a fish out of water, then gives up and walks out of the room. He spends the rest of the afternoon blowing bubbles in the pool beside Kara Kara Bazaar while the other three continue their work, and then buys a durian from one of the vendors and hacks it open with his spear. You can’t crack open a durian with your bare hands, unless you’re Mipha, in which case you can do anything. It’s a good thing, then, that she’s gone.

::

When they were children and they got into trouble, his father would always scold Mipha far more harshly than Sidon. Mipha was the older sibling, after all. She should know better. This dynamic remained firmly established between them even as Mipha grew into her role as princess, future ruler, and eventually, champion. Of course, the reprimandings grew less stern, but Sidon had a penchant for winding up in places he wasn’t supposed to be in and Mipha had a penchant for being with him whenever this happened. He secretly resolved to pay her back when he got older and was finally able to stand up to his father, and therefore explain that most of the things they got into trouble for were his idea. He would be the one to weep at his father’s feet while his sister looked on with a horrified expression, and in that moment she would understand how much he loved her.

Then she died. You can’t tell the story of Mipha without this part. Mipha was a humble, kind girl, and then she died. Mipha could crack open a durian with her bare hands, and then she died. Mipha was the pride of their people, and then she died, and she died, and she died.

You can’t change the past with the wave of a hand. You’re not a bird. You’re not a fortune-teller. You’re a fish-person with an empty coffin for a sister, and in a few weeks’ time, you’re going to save her specter.

::

“...What if I brought her back with me?”

“Huh?”

“Hahajustkidding. No way I’d do that. Not a chance.”

“Um. Do you need painkillers?”

“Thanks, but they don’t work on me. I’m over a hundred years old, you see. Us Zoras, we’re different.”

::

The day before departure. They’re back at Zora’s domain. It’s raining. Teba is running through a checklist of items to bring with them which is so long, he has to hold it above his head to prevent it from touching the floor. Riju is feeding Patricia mandarin peels.

“You know, Sidon.”

Sidon looks up from his mandarin. “Mm?”

Yunobo grins at him. “Daruk’s my idol,” he says proudly. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” says Sidon, as enthusiastically as he can, because he genuinely wants to be happy for Yunobo who is finally going to meet his idol and has clearly dreamed about this moment for some time. He wants to be happy for all of them. He fucking wants to. This is a rescue mission, not the imprisonment Princess Zelda walked into in Hyrule castle, not the hundred-year nap Link took on the Great Plateau. This is a happy ending, even if it’s not theirs.

Daruk the idol. Urbosa the warrior. Revali the bird. Sidon pictures them in his head, the way Link described them to him once, his voice carrying across the water like beams of light.

“Mipha was—”

He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands, his nails still embedded in the soft skin of it, the white-tinged flesh peeking out like a wound. Outside, the rain keeps falling. A river of tears from the sky.

Yunobo tilts his head to the side. “Mipha was?”

Mipha was the pride of their people. Mipha was the first person he wanted to live forever. Mipha was the only one he knew who could crack open a durian with her bare hands, like she was peeling open the heart of a monster, only to reveal that it had been something soft and scared all along. Mipha was a flesh-and-blood person. Mipha was the light of their world. Mipha is an empty coffin with a name inscribed on the lid, a house with the lights off, a memory drenched in ocean.

Yunobo prods his shoulder, though he barely feels a thing. “Mipha was?” he repeats kindly, herding him along to the end of the line, to the boat at the edge of the water.

Sidon puts the mandarin away. He stares long and hard at Yunobo, and hopes that his eyes will convey the wound his body no longer knows how to carry.

“Mipha was my sister.”

::

Let’s say you’ve been entrusted with the future of your kingdom. There’s a bad guy coming, and everyone’s scared to death, so you learn how to pilot this big robotic elephant which shoots turrets of water like a machine gun, and you get really good at it, and when the bad guy arrives on your new friend’s birthday suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You’re trapped inside the giant elephant. You’re bleeding out all over the floor. Your chest hurts like something awful, and your vision is beginning to blur. Sensing your despair, the monster closes in on you, wielding that big blue trident like fury. It holds the sky up over your head, and as it does so you close your eyes. You send a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way you have been taught to since you were old enough to hold your little brother in your arms, the way every child in Hyrule knows that there is a place for them to go to after they leave this world behind). You brace for impact, which you hope will be the gentle sort, a slap to the wrist that’s conclusive enough to break your bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. You’re twenty, not five. This is the end of all things as you know it. Every living creature in Hyrule knows this, the way their ancestors woke up one day and knew that this world would come to ruin. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When everyone you’ve ever loved dies. When you walk into the mouth of the elephant, and the elephant changes its mind, and decides to keep you in its belly forever.

None arrives. You open your eyes slowly, hesitantly, fear a living memory in your bones, but you are not faced with the stinging end of a trident. In its place is a boy almost three times your height, his eyes glittering darkly, the spear in his right hand shining like a star.

He is not your brother. But, Hylia bless you all, he is.

So what can you say, when the evil has been defeated and you are standing on the balcony of the castle, smiling up at him through tears while this big overgrown baby stares at you like you’re the answer to the universe, except:

We’ll definitely meet again, won’t we?

He flinches, but you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say why. He pulls you into an earth-shattering, bone-crushing hug. It’s a beautiful day to be alive, the sun shining like sin, Hyrule’s beaten but stubbornly breathing carcass laughing up at you from the fields below. He takes your hands in his. He’s shivering. He’s shaking from head to toe.

Of course, he says in the kindest, saddest voice you’ve ever heard, though he has only come to pass on someone else’s words, though the word he has brought is salvation. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.

: : : : :

You smile at him with a face full of stars.

[kitkat1003]

Mr. Cheung

Basically a little viginette based off of @skellebonez's prompt Here, because I'm weak

Spirit doesn't know Mr.Cheung.

Frankly, they don't know a lot of people. There are a lot more humans, mortals, than there are demons, so they can't keep track like they do with demons.

So they don't really notice when Mr.Cheung starts coming in regularly. Frankly, between stocking, helping set up deliveries, and the occasional mise en place, they don't have the time to pay attention to the customers. Maybe they remember the shock of orange hair, but the novelty of it faded away soon enough.

They did feel a little more on edge, one day. Something...different registered, and sent the hairs on the back of their neck standing up. But it had settled, eventually, and so they figured it was nothing.

But then they'd walked in on Pigsy and Mr.Cheung talking. And they didn't like what they saw.

Pigsy was angry, then, but that wasn't anything too out of the ordinary. Much like Red, Pigsy's consistent anger was more for show than for substance. Still, Pigsy was nice enough to tone it down when Spirit was weak enough to not be able to hide the flinches at his raging. He saw, and he adjusted for them.

No one ever does that.

With Mr.Cheung, though, Pigsy is a slow boil angry. The type that simmers with intent, because there's upset behind it. And Spirit buys the lie because they're supposed to, and because MK needs them, but.

They know. They know when things are wrong because if they weren't able to figure it out they'd get hurt far more often. They can tell the mood in the air is anything but friendly, and they catch the dark look Pigsy sends Mr.Cheung in the reflection of his eyes.

3 eyes adds for sharper vision, even in human form.

Mr.Cheung comes in less frequently after his chat wth Pigsy. Spirit thinks back, and remembers him coming in every day for a couple weeks. Now it's once every few days.

Pigsy tenses when he sees him. Gets that same slow boil angry look on his face, before Spirit comes in and he wipes it away for them.

So they make a decision. It's not a favor Pigsy asked for, but he earned it, so they'll make an exception. He's made exceptions for them, hasn't he?

He doesn't carry around the wooden spoon anymore. It's used only for stirring broth.

Mr.Cheung finishes his latest bowl and gets up to leave. Spirit busses his table, and takes the bowl to the sink.

"...Pigsy?" They start, tentatively.

"Yeah, kid?" Pigsy's voice is gruff but somehow soft.

"Um, can I-um-I, uh, can I take my break?" They look away when Pigsy looks over at them, because they've never asked to take their break before. Usually he has to tell them to take one.

He gives them a once over. They start to sweat. Did they say something wrong? Is he upset? Were they not supposed to ask?

"I-I mean, if that's okay, if we're busy I can stay, I just-,"

"Go ahead," Pigsy waves a hand, smiling up at them. He seems pleased that they've taken initiative. Should they ask to go on their break more often then? They're uncertain.

Spirit flashes him a grateful, relieved smile, and they scurry out the back door of the noodleshop, scaling up the wall to the roof. They like to come up here to watch the people pass by, and to look up at the sky. They nearly gave Pigsy a heart attack the first time, but they have good balance, so as long as they're careful he doesn't mind.

Now, they search. Eyes sharp, they glance around, and see a shock of ginger hair disappearing into an alley.

Suspicious. They follow.

They're ever so careful as they sneak up behind him, but even when they think they're absolutely silent about it, Mr.Cheung turns around before they can reach out to tap him on the shoulder.

"You're following me," he says. His voice is flat and unwelcoming. There's an undercurrent of a threat.

"Yup!" Spirit replies, high pitched and nervous. They take a step back.

They're not good at being intimidating.

For a moment, they stare at each other, before Spirit takes a deep breath.

"You make Pigsy uncomfortable," they start, rather blunt. They don't have time to craft a script of what to say, like they usually do when they're tasked with confronting someone. "He gets upset when you're in the shop. So, um, it'd be in, uh, your best interest to keep away," they puff out their chest a little, rising to their full height. Apparently that sort of thing is intimidating.

Red says it works for Demon Bull King, anyway.

"Or what?" Mr.Cheung counters.

Oh.

Spirit did not plan for this.

"O-or...," They scramble for something reasonable. "Or I-or I'll make you regret it!" They make their eyes glow, because that's scary for humans, right? Normal humans don't have glowing eyes, they're pretty sure.

Mr.Cheung doesn't seem very impressed.

"What by killing me?" He asks.

Spirit pales. They fidget with their trembling hands, so they don't shake as bad.

"I only kill if it's for a favor," They mutter to more themselves than anything, thinking of the tallies in the book. They're fastidious. They know their body count.

Every time it grows, they want to cry, but they can't feel anything at about it. Not after the first time. Not after they remembered.

"And, anyways, I-I could just tell Pigsy you're bothering me, and you'd get banned. So, uh, really, this is uh...a courtesy?" Gosh, they're terrible. Mr.Cheung is going to laugh at them, or tell Pigsy, or-

"So why don't you?" Mr.Cheung asks, again.

Spirit blinks. They feel their tail, hidden in their pantlegs, curl around their leg.

"I don't wanna bother him...," they reply, weakly

"But you'll bother me," Mr.Cheng points out.

"Because you're bothering him!" Spirit bursts out. "He's upset when you're in the shop. I don't want him to be upset."

Because Pigsy is nice. Pigsy cares. Pigsy who they once thought of as someone like their father is nothing close to ever being like him, in the best of ways. And they can't fail to protect another parent.

Not this time.

Maybe it's dramatic. But everything feels like life or death, sometimes. Even the smallest of factors. Pigsy gets more and more upset, he makes an error that could get him hurt. He's a chef. Being distracted is bad in the kitchen. There's knives and boiling water involved.

"Um, you could do this as a favor?" The idea of them owing someone something makes their skin crawl, but they have to at least hope that this will work. "I'll, um, owe you. I guess."

Which means they won't be safe, but it doesn't matter, because they don't matter, and that's fine, it has to be, because they know what they are, they're a pawn, and a weapon, and a worker, and they're useful. Not important. They know the distinction.

"No favors," Mr.Cheung seems repulsed by the phrase. "But okay. I'll stay away."

For a moment, Spirit just stares.

"Really?" they ask, shoulders falling down as they hope, for a moment.

"You've given me a pretty good argument," Mr.Cheung doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown at them either. "But, for the record, you need to work on your intimidation skills."

"I'm better at it when I have time to prepare," they reply, honest.

Mr.Cheung's lip quirks upwards for a second, and he nods and turns away, disappearing into the alleyway and around the corner.

Spirit watches for a few more moments after Mr.Cheung disappears, and then they slip away, back to the noodleshop.

"Hi, Pigsy," they greet as they come back in. They took a few breaths before coming in, so they wouldn't look as stressed as they feel, considering what they just did. Confronting people is hard, but Pigsy says they've been getting bolder since they've been working here, and he makes it sound like a good thing, somehow.

"You're back early," Pigsy responds.

Spirit shrugs.

"I, um, I like working with you," the last bit is mumbled under their breath, shy. It's not exactly a lie.

Pigsy hears it anyway, and he beams.

"Alright, kid. Mind chopping those carrots for me?" He gestures to the set on the cutting board.

Spirit salutes with a smile.

"Sir yes sir!"

Mr.Cheung doesn't come back. They see Pigsy search for him, for a week or so, but after two weeks of no visits they finally see Pigsy relax, and everything goes back to its pleasant normal.

It's a relief, but Spirit wonders, quietly, why he bothered Pigsy at all.

[angellbarnes]

Moonlight

summary: Steve can’t help but draw you whenever he can. You’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings but it’s funny how things can work out.

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: some language but just a load of flufff

A/N: my first Steve x reader! I had this idea and thought it was cute? Let me know what you all think🤍

The chilled breeze of the evening pricks at your skin as you lean on the upstairs balcony of the compound. You admire the stars and the feeling of fresh air against your flushed face, after stepping out of another of Tony’s parties. As fun as they are, they could get a little much for you. 

So as you stared out into the evening, you didn’t take much notice to the others around you, stood or standing, on the balcony. Especially not one certain super soldier, who held a sketchbook and pencil, admiring you and capturing your beauty within its pages. He watched you as you got lost in your thoughts, with the wind rippling through your dress and the way your eyes held the glow of the moon.

He finished his sketch with the last stroke of your hair and looked over the drawing once more. He’d picked up quite the habit of drawing you when you weren’t looking, whether it was sitting in the common room or whilst training or even on the jet to and from missions. His favourite was the one he’d done the other evening, when you were sat on a stool in the kitchen, with a cup of hot chocolate in your hand as you read your favourite book. Your hair was in a messy up do and you were wearing an oversized jumper; he thought you looked adorable and he couldn’t help but capture that moment.

He quickly snaps his book shut as he notices you walking over to him.

“Hey, Steve, beautiful view, isn’t it?” You say and your soothing voice almost sent Steve into a complete daze. He swears he could just listen to your voice for hours.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It really is.” He rubs at the back of his neck whilst sporting a sheepish smile.

“Can I see?” You ask, gesturing down to his book.

“See my drawings?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve always wanted to look at them but I’ve just never got around to asking.”

“Oh, you don’t want to see these. They’re not even proper drawings, just little things here and there.” He replies anxiously. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you saw those drawings, whether you’d run straight in the other direction and never speak to him again, or actually appreciate it. He didn't want to take that chance, though. 

“Okay, well, you don’t have to show me if you don't want to. Maybe one day, though.” Your sweet tone almost makes Steve melt and when you place your hand on his shoulder before leaving, he knows he’s done for.

He’s been harbouring a crush from you for months, slowly falling more and more for you each passing day. Only Sam and Bucky know, though. At least, they’re the only people he’s told. What he doesn't know, though, is that you’d taken a liking to him the first day of joining the team. Since then, you’ve hidden your feelings quite well by not telling anyone and pretending your feelings don't exist. The only flaw in that plan is that the more you act like they aren't there, the more evident they become.

~~~

The next morning you make your way through the halls of the compound, heading to the kitchen for some food. As you turn a corner, you overhear Sam talking to Steve, before they’ve realised you’re there.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to tell her sooner or later. I’m telling you there’s no way she doesn’t feel the same. I’ve seen how she looks at you when she thinks no one’s paying attention. I’m willing to bet on it.”

There’s no way he could’ve been talking about you though, right?

“You should listen to the birdie over here, Steve. Tell her. Whoever she is is a lucky girl.” You comment as you stride in, showing as much confidence as you can muster. You grab a bowl from the cupboard and place it on the island the two are sat at, before taking a spoon from the drawer.

“How- uh, how much of that did you hear?” Steve asks timidly.

“Just the end. So... who is it?” You ask eagerly, though you can feel your heart unwillingly begin to race.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry. Just someone.” He adds a nervous laugh and you eye him and Sam dubiously.

“Cut the bullshit, Cap, just tell her who it is!” Sam nudges Steve and you lean forwards on the counter, wiggling your eyebrows and grinning. You pray for the answer you’re looking for, and it seems more and more possible as he looks at you, deep into your eyes. Your smile softens and he still hasn’t said a word.

“Come on Rogers,” you say as a final push, “just get it out in the open-”

“It’s Sharon.” His reply is blunt. Straight to the point. No hesitation. You abruptly stand back up straight and clear your throat, mentally cursing yourself for actually getting your hopes up.

“Oh.” Is all you can say, trying not to sound disappointed. It hurt, you can’t lie. You wanted him to say your name and he didn’t. Sharon. The word sounded like poison to your ears. “Well, she does seem very nice. On second thought, I’m going to go out for breakfast. I’ll see you two later.” You say as brightly as possible before rushing out of the room.

Steve lets out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding and turns to face his very unimpressed looking friend.

“Seriously?” Sam deadpans.

“I panicked.”

“Yeah, well, good job, Mr I like this girl but I just told her I like someone completely different-”

“Sam, don’t you think I realise what I did? I was the one who said it.” Steve replies, exasperated.

“Nuh uh, I’m not finished. And now she won’t know how I feel because I’m a dumbass and ruined my chance of finding out whether she likes me back.”

Steve replies with a groan, covering his face with his hand.

~~~

When you return from your breakfast out, you head straight to your room. You’d had some time to think about everything that had happened. You concluded that it made sense for Steve to like Sharon over you, seeing as they’ve spent more time together and knew each other way before you did. It was stupid to think Steve could possibly feel the way you do about him because-

“Shit, sorry!” A male voice rings out. You were too in your head to notice the tall blonde walking in your opposite direction.

“Oh my god, Steve, I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so sorry!” You stumble over your words slightly and you look up to Steve, with an amused grin on his face.

“Me too, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“No, I had my head in the clouds as usual.” You avert your eyes from him, sheepishly looking to the ground when you notice his sketchbook that he must’ve dropped. You bend down to pick it up for him, noticing it had opened up when it fell.

“Oh, here’s your...” Your voice trails off as your eyes scan over the led covered pages. It’s beautiful you think, letting your gaze wander over every hard and soft line that marks it. 

“I’m so sorry, you weren’t meant to see those. It’s just- it’s-”

“Me.” You finish, breathlessly. You finally tear yourself away from the artwork and back to him. You smile, confused, as you hand it back to him. You would think that he’s suddenly lost the ability to speak as his mouth hangs open, looking for anything he could say to explain himself.

“They’re gorgeous.” You admit, and his adams apple bobs as his mouth closes. “I mean, it’s strange to say, seeing as they’re drawings of me but, Steve, you’re so talented.” You continue, flashing a reassuring smile and giggling slightly.

“You- you like them? You don’t think it’s creepy? Strange?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the corner of the leather binding.

“No, I think it’s sweet.” You reassure and you can see him visibly relax, releasing the tension in his shoulders and letting out a laugh of relief. You take your hand and place it over his. His eyes meet yours briefly but they quickly fall back to where your hand lies atop his.

“Maybe I could see the rest? In your room?” You pose.

“Sure, yeah.” He smiles brighter and leads you to his room silently.

When you hear the clicking of the door behind you, you spin around to say something, though your words disappear into the feeling of another mouth on yours. His lips are soft, delicate, held back, even. It’s short but sweet when he pulls away but his face is still close enough to yours that you can feel his breath fan over yours.

“I’m sorry. It’s just... I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He admits.

“Me too.” You whisper, biting your lip, and he takes that as a signal to lean down again. This time the kiss is deeper and you sigh into it. He pulls you right into his body and you let him snake his tongue into your mouth. Breathlessly, you both pull away, letting the moment linger in the air a little longer.

“I don’t like Sharon, I never did. I said it because I panicked and didn’t think you felt the same way. I’m an idiot.” Steve lets out, gazing intently at you.

“Yeah, you are,” you giggle, “but we’re here now. That doesn’t matter anymore.” You smile at him and he mirrors it.

Slowly, you draw the notebook from his hand and take a seat on his bed, letting him come over in his own time. You flick through more of it, commenting on how amazing they are each time you turn a page, earning a shy ‘thank you’ each time. You reach the last drawing; you on the balcony last night and let out a small gasp.

“Steve, it’s wonderful. This is what you were drawing when I came over to you? This is why you wouldn’t show me?” You marvel over the way the pencil strokes looked so effortlessly placed on the paper, then reading where he’d written ‘Moonlight’ underneath. Each sketch had a word or a few to go along with it, something to do with the moment he had drawn them.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to show you in case you would run away or something and never want to speak to me again.” You place the sketchbook down, cupping his face in both of your hands.

“I will never run away from you, only towards.”

[cuttingthe-painter]

What about a fae(elf) trying to seduce a woman in a bar?

Thank you so much for sending this in, I had a lot of fun writing it! Sorry this took so long! I had a paper to finish writing for class that took longer than I thought it would! I really hope you enjoy this!

male fae x female human

Rhythmic thumping pulses through the walls of the club. You look around, taking in the chattering groups around you, watching as they huddle together to protect themselves from the frigid night air. You turn back to Harper who is craning her neck, attempting to look over the shoulders of the men in front of you. She faces you and mouths ‘everyone is so damn tall’ before pushing up onto her tiptoes to watch the line move. 

 Goosebumps prickling across your arms has you wrapping yourself in a hug and cursing Harper for convincing you that you wouldn’t need a coat.  ‘We’ll only be in line for like, 5 minutes, and then we’ll be sweating and dancing in the club!’ she had said. Well, 5 minutes has come and gone and now your wait in line is nearing an hour.  

You shuffle forward and look around again at all the others waiting to get in. Something is off about everyone; not only is every single person a head taller than you and Harper at least, but they all have an odd sort of glow about them. Maybe you shouldn’t have pre-gamed at Harper’s before coming out for the night. Dark eyes catch yours while you look through the crowd behind you. The dark eyed man shoots you a smile that makes your stomach knot in discomfort. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return and face forward again, stepping closer to Harper. 

“Maybe we should leave,” you whisper to Harper, talking right into her ear. Her head snaps to the side, causing you to have to lean away to avoid getting hit.  

“We’re almost inside,” she whines, motioning for you to look towards the bouncer. She’s right, only six people stand between you and the bouncer. You nod at her and flash an apologetic smile. You ready your ID to hand to the bouncer only for him to look at you both and wave you off.

“What?” Harper hissed, tilting her head in confusion. Ignoring his bored stare she shoves her ID at him and waves it around until he takes it. He looks it over before handing it back and waving her off again. Harper, not someone who is typically turned away from clubs, huffs and crosses her arms. “Come on. Just let us in?”

You look up to the sky, preparing for the upcoming argument. When you look back down, you meet the pale blue gaze of a man standing behind the bouncer, just near the door. His face is all angles, pale and beautiful. Messy white hair falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head and flashes a perfect smile at you. You catch yourself staring longer than appropriate and give a shy smile before looking back at your friend. 

 “We need to get inside, dude. We have friends waiting for us,” Harper says, the lie falling easily off her tongue. The bouncer laughs at her, a full belly laugh that has his tilting his head back.

“I highly doubt that,” he responds, “you two just don’t seem the type to run in this circle.” Harper scoffs, looking around at the people behind her. She meets the stare of the dark eyed man behind you and looks him up and down. A sinister smirk creeps across his face and he steps forward to her. 

“I can get ya in, sweetheart,” he purrs, snaking an arm around her waist.  “What's your name?” Harper opens her mouth to answer when a low voice interrupts, pulling your attention back near the bouncer. 

“They’re with me, Ode,” the white haired man says, ushering you and Harper towards the club door. Harper sticks her tongue out at Ode as you both pass him, making him roll his eyes. Walking into the club reminds you just how much you hate them; the flashing lights and pounding music are so much more intimidating than the dive bars you were used to. Plus, having to push past all the sweaty, dancing bodies just to get to the bar feels disgusting. 

The music, lights, and bodies overwhelm all your senses; you attempt to focus on your breathing as you walk, trying to ignore the anxiety clenching at your throat and making your hands sweat.  

“I would suggest you warn your friend to not give her name to every person she meets.” You jump at the feel of lips ghosting across your ear. You turn and meet those electric eyes, catching them dart down to your mouth. 

“Why’s that?” you ask, making sure to talk loud enough to be heard over the music. 

“Well, did you see that guy she was about to give her name to?” he responded, feigning a shudder. You laugh lightly, and look around for Harper. She’s beat you to the bar, mouthing to you that she’s ordered drinks. You give a thumbs up and turn back to the white haired man.

“Thanks for getting us in. Harper has been dying to come here all week and see what all the hype is about,” He flashes that perfect smile at you again and leans in close again.

“And what about you? Were you not dying to come here?” he teases, placing his hand on your lower back and continuing your walk towards the bar.

“Clubs aren’t my thing,” you reply, noticing Harper motioning for you to hurry up. She pushes a drink into your hands when you get to her.

“I’m gonna go dance!” she yells. Noticing the man still with you, she adds on “Thanks for getting us in!”  She disappears into the crowd, leaving you behind with just your drink and the man you just met. You watch as he signals to the bartender and admire his sharp features. A flush heats your face when he catches you staring a moment later.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you say, attempting to hide your embarrassment at being caught.

“I didn’t throw it,” he responds, a flirty smile dancing on his face. The bartender walks over and takes his order and begins mixing together a drink you’ve never heard of.

“Well, what’s your name then?” you ask, noticing how he deflected your first attempt. He turns to fully face you and leans one arm on the bar, leaving barely any space between you two. 

“Hmm,” he muses, thinking over an answer. His eyes trace the lines of your face for a long moment before he finishes. “I suppose you can call me Quill.”

The bartender returns with his drink and Quill grabs it, raising it to his lips and taking a drink without looking away from you. You mirror his movements, sipping from your own drink, and think over his answer. You can call me Quill. What an odd way to phrase that. Actually, he’s been weird about names each time they’ve come up. Tell your friend to not give her name to every person she meets. You squint at him, noticing how he also seemed to have a weird glow around him. Before you can think about it too much, someone knocks into your back, pushing you into Quill. Somehow, you manage to not spill your drink on him. 

“I’m so sorry,” you breath, attempting to steady your footing and pull away from him. His arm had wrapped around you, though, and held you in place against him.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growls to the person who knocked into you. The words rumble through his chest and the feeling sends heat through your body. He pulls back and whispers down to you, “Are you okay?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, and stare into his mesmerizing eyes. They freeze you in place, entrancing you for what feels like eternity. You swear there was an ocean trapped behind his pupils and you were drowning in it. Its tide sweeps you away, pulling you from the noisy club and the crowd of people until it's just you and Quill. You're hyper away of the way his warm breath fans across your face, the way he leans into you until his lips are centimeters from you. He’s going to kiss you and, at this moment, there's nothing you want more. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” he whispers, his eyes twinkling with delight. The noise of the club rushes back all at once, causing your head to spin slightly. You blink in surprise and let out a shaky breath.

“Uh, sure,” you breathe, careful to not let disappointment edge your tone. He finishes off his drink and you follow suit. When your glass clinks onto the bartop, Quill grabs your hand and pulls you into the crowd. The energy on the dance floor is electric; everyone seems to move together, as if slaves to the music. 

 Quill pulls your body against his on the dancefloor; he’s tall and lean and with your back flush against his front, you can feel all his hard muscles. You wind your arms around his neck and angle your head just in time to watch a wide smile spread across his face. His eyes darken as you move your hips against his. You keep your eyes on his face as you dance, watching the way his eyes flutter closed when you press back into him. 

When the song ends, Quill spins you to face him, resting his arms around your waist. His eyes trail down your face, landing on your lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lips, and then he’s leaning down. Your breath quickens and your eyes close in anticipation. And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you in a way you wouldn’t expect to be kissed in the middle of a dance floor. He kisses you slowly, gently. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling slightly. He groans softly, low in his throat, and then pulls you impossibly tighter against him. Suddenly he’s kissing you harder, deeper. You pull away, breathless, and rest your forehead against his. 

When you pull away and look up at him, you notice a sheen of sweat across his forehead and its silver. You furrow your brow in confusion and then meet his curious eyes. Then it clicks. Everyone in line was significantly taller than you both. Harper and you were the only two turned away. Quill seemed so weird about names. Silver sweat. This wasn’t a club for humans; these were all fae dancing around you. Quill watched the realization cross your face, and he offered a small, apologetic smile that made your stomach flutter.

“I should have told you,” he said. You shook your head, understanding why he hadn’t.

“I should have figured it out sooner,” you replied. “I need to tell Harper, though. I don’t need her bumping into the wrong fae.”  

“Hurry back,” Quill groaned, begrudgingly letting his arms fall away from your sides. You found Harper back by the bar talking closely with a man. He was right up her alley, you noted. Harper went weak in the knees for the tall, dark, and handsome type. 

“Harper,” you say, tapping her arm in case she didn’t hear you over the music. She pulls away from the man and looks at you, slightly annoyed. “Can we talk real quick?” 

“Sure. One minute, Oz,” she says, purring slightly at the man. She steps away with me, flashing me a glare to let me know she isn’t happy being interrupted.

“Did you know this was a fae club?” you whisper to her. She smiled at me, laughing slightly before answering.

“Not when I brought us here, but Oz told me! Isn’t that wild? I almost gave that creep in line my name!” she laughs, completely unphased by the possibility of the man in line having that power over her. “Is that a problem with you, though? You’ve never seemed to have an issue with fae before.”

“No, it’s not a problem, Harper. I just wish we had known ahead of time to maybe, I don’t know, take necessary precautions!” She laughs again, patting your arm.

“Necessary precautions,” she snorts. “You’re so dramatic. I’m leaving with Oz tonight, just like I’m assuming you are with that man you were letting kiss your face off. Make sure to take the necessary precautions.” Harper walks back to where Oz stood at the bar, signaling the end of your conversation. You roll your eyes and scan the crowd for Quill, who you find waiting for you at the opposite end of the bar from Harper.

You walk over to him, relishing in the way his face lights up with that perfect smile whenever you come near him. You lean into him, kissing the smile off his face. When you pull away, his pupils are blown wide as he looks down to you.

“Come home with me,” he whispers, leaning in and stealing another kiss. 

“Hmm,” you muse, mimicking his earlier actions. “I suppose I could, if you tell me your name.” He laughs, a loud and magical sound, bending down until your noses touch.

  “Well played,” he breathes, lips nearly brushing against yours. “My name’s Quillin Virion.”

[jincherie]

florescence | iii

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly au, fluff, smut (future), angst ❀ — words: 5.7k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: fluff, fluff & more fluff ❀ — notes: I slipped in an extra scene and edited what I had for this chapter, and here we are!!! I still have a fair amount of excess so I’m going to continue working on that along with things like tentacledipity huhuhuhuh anyway hope u enjoy this!!!

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin… You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but… maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 22.09.2019 // masterlist || prev. | next.

“Next, you put in the eggs?”

You hum in affirmation, feeling Seokjin hover just over your shoulder—far enough that the distance is polite, but close enough that the barest hints of his warmth from his body tickle your skin and make you yearn for more. A somewhat inappropriate and incredibly intrusive feeling that pops into your head, but not one that’s easily escaped either.

“Yup,” you chirp, already reaching for the ingredients. Before you can grasp them, Seokjin hastily retrieves them for you—nearly dropping them in the process but successfully delivering them into your hold nonetheless. You send him a smile and his cheeks flush pink, ears flicking back shyly. From the corner of your eye, you catch his tail attempting to whip eagerly from side to side behind him.

He is so cute you think you’re really going to burst.

“I hope these pancakes turn out better than the last ones,” you murmur softly as you stir, trying to fold the ingredients and mix them more efficiently. It was something that slipped out more as a musing, but you hear an affronted gasp from behind you as soon as the words grace the air nonetheless.

“y/n!” Seokjin says, tone taking on a reprimanding edge that has you fighting a smile. “The last pancakes were good! They were so good, I promise!”

You glance at him over your shoulder, finding him standing with hands in loose fists and a determined, somewhat distressed expression on his face. You really can’t hold back your smile.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you said, feeling your chest warm as his cheeks flush on cue.  “I appreciate that, and I know they must have been at least a little bit good since you nearly ate yourself sick with them.”

At the mention of the incident that occurred only a day or so ago, Seokjin’s blush takes on another degree of severity and a sound that seems awfully akin to a whine leaks from his throat. You’d learned from Seokjin that they’d never had pancakes at the lab, and had immediately nearly thrown a fit and had an internal meltdown that resulted in you making them right then and there, immediately, to rectify it. You aren’t the biggest fan of pancakes, they aren’t even your favourite food, but they feel like such a crucial experience in life that the idea of the two hybrids never having had the pleasure of trying them… you were compelled to fix it.

As it turns out, they love them, so much that here you are making them again, lowkey teaching Seokjin how to do it himself. You aren’t sure if he’s really here for your company or to oversee the production of the pancakes. You’re inclined to believe the latter, but letting yourself think it is the former is nice while it lasts. You gotta be a little kind to yourself sometimes, after all.

The rest of the cooking experience goes smoothly, save for Seokjin almost burning himself on the pan. He gets a little too excited when you hand him the spatula, ears upright and deceptively alert—you quickly realise you should have been paying more attention to the blur of his whirring tail as he focuses too much on the bubbling pancakes and not enough on his own movements.

When his wrist dips a little too low and brushes the side of the pan, the reaction is immediate—he jerks his whole hand away, spatula dropping from his grasp, and a whimper slips from his throat that has you immediately at attention.

“Ah, Seokjin!” You immediately move and grasp his hand, bringing it closer to inspect it. Subconsciously, you pull him over to the sink as well. “Oh, bub, are you alright?”

Seokjin’s free hand finds your upper arm, gripping the material of your shirt as he flounders and stumbles over a response—your close proximity has him a little flustered, it seems. Catching sight of the red welt beginning to appear on the tan underside of his wrist, you bring it over the sink and turn the tap, allowing cold water to run over the mild burn. He jumps, letting out an ‘eep’ before leaning closer to the sink and, as a result, further against you.

“I-I’m fine!” he attempts to reassure you, before a soft whimper slips out as you tilt his wrist. “I-I’m sorry, I should have been paying more attention… It was stupid of me…”

“A little bit silly, but not stupid. I’m not going to fault you for being excited, Seokjin,” you inform him, turning the tap off and inspecting the burn to assess its severity. When you deem it okay enough that it shouldn’t need too much more water or attention, you bring it to your lips and press a light kiss over it. “There. All better.”

In your defence, you hadn’t really realised what you’d done—for your job you’re around children often and do such things without so much as a second thought. But when you turn and see Seokjin standing stock still, staring at his wrist with eyes blown wide and his entire face turning pink, you quickly realise your folly and are immediately overtaken by the conflicting urges to coo, laugh, and apologise.

You’re a little embarrassed. He doesn’t seem upset about it though, just flustered, so you decide he can go without a flustered, bumbling apology in return and you can save yourself a tiny bit of your pride. You slap on a big, dumb smile and then shuffle back to the pan, flipping the pancakes before they can begin to burn.

With that little incident over, you get back to cooking. It takes a while for the flush to leave Seokjin’s face, and when you emerge from the kitchen with pancakes to greet Taehyung, he sends the two of you a curious, questioning look. The only thing that saves you from having to answer is the way the smell of the food seems to suddenly possess the two of them, and how as soon as it touches their tongues they’ve both completely forgotten.

You’ll have to be more mindful of your habits, it seems.

Over the next few days as you gradually get everything you had on your list and your orders arrive, you’re overjoyed to note that the two hybrids seem to be allowing themselves to open up slightly and draw a little closer, bit by bit. No longer secluding himself in the room or confining himself to the living room on his favourite couch, Seokjin will now occasionally wander into the kitchen when you’re cooking and hover as he had when the two of you made pancakes, curious gaze raking in everything you do. Sometimes he’ll make a comment and strike up a small conversation, ask whatever tickles his interest, but the silence that fills the air between you when he doesn’t isn’t an uncomfortable one, unlike how it might have been before.

Taehyung too seems to be allowing you into his heart in baby steps. While he still hasn’t spoken, it’s becoming easier and easier for you to stop associating his speech— or lack thereof in this instance — with however he might feel about you, and it means you’re able to enjoy the time he spends with you that much more. The tall russet-haired hybrid has taken to pulling you to sit next to him for a movie, sitting apart on the couch but just close enough that his shoulder barely brushes yours. He also, as his most recent effort, tugged you down to sit in the sun with him in your courtyard, both of you laying sideways across the hammock so that your upper bodies are supported and your legs hang over the edge. You can tell that he’s still warring with his incredibly shy nature, because both instances he spends with a pretty blush across his cheeks and nose. You think that both of the hybrids are beautiful, but you also think that the times Taehyung spends relaxing outside with you are where he is most beautiful; with the afternoon sun bathing his tan skin in rays of gold and melting his eyes into pools of ember, russet hair and fur gleaming like silk, he glows ethereal.

Seokjin doesn’t join the two of you when you lay outside, but sometimes when you enter and catch him by the doorway you swear you can see a glimmer of longing in his gemstone eyes.

It is perhaps a week after the events of the day that spurred everything into motion that you finally catch a glimpse of the most vulnerable parts of the silver fox hybrid.

Once more it’s a time of night where you should probably be asleep, yet you find yourself wandering into the kitchen in the dark with the intention of surreptitiously making yourself a tea and hoping you don’t wake your housemates with sensitive ears. You get to the point of boiling the jug when you notice the front screen door is slightly ajar and a breeze is sifting through to brush your skin with a cool caress. Curious, if slightly alarmed, you strain your ears and catch the slight creak you know too well as that of the hammock when it swings under the weight of a body. You pause for a moment, pondering how to proceed, and end up silently retrieving another mug from the cupboard, dropping another teabag in.

A few minutes later finds you padding softly to the door, sliding it open as carefully as you can with both of your hands full. You’re not sure who you expect to see occupying the hammock at this time of night, considering Taehyung is the only one who has shown an affinity for snuggling in it, but the animal he is spliced with is also not the nocturnal type. It is Seokjin that greets your eyes as they slowly adjust to the dark, and the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat.

If Taehyung is a child of the sun, then Seokjin belongs to the moon. His charcoal hair has turned to ink and shines like silk in the moonlight, tan skin tinged soft blue and rose petal lips painted violet. He is lost in thought, eyes glazed and glimmering, and beneath the moons rays he is aglow and radiant. The fur on his ears and tail is the same glossy ink as his hair yet looks so impossibly soft and fluffy your hands ache to touch it. When you take a step closer and his ears flick, registering the sound and your presence a moment later, and he almost jumps out of his skin.

“y-y/n!” he bursts, eyes wide as he scrambles from where he is curled in the hammock, almost tipping himself out of it in the process. “W-what are you doing up? Did I wake you? I’m so sorry—”

You can’t help but smile at his fluster, letting out a soft giggle. “You didn’t wake me, don’t worry Seokjin. I was up getting a tea and heard you out here so I made you one as well. Scooch over, bub.”

At the term of affection tacked on at the end, Seokjin’s face erupts into a violent blush. He sputters but he does what you say without thinking, cheeks glowing with heat. You ease down next to him so you’re both sitting with your legs over the edge, the nature of the hammock causing your shoulders to press together and your bodies to tilt towards each other. You hand him his mug and he takes it shyly, wrapping his hands around the heated ceramic immediately; it’s a little chilly, out here in the open.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, averting his gaze as he takes a sip. A pleased hum escapes him before he can stop it, his cheeks warming even further. You take a sip of your own drink to muffle your laugh.

The silence that sinks over you after that is comfortable, the two of you directing your gazes to the sky. You’re far enough from the centre of the city that you can still see the stars, and you’re admittedly a bit mesmerised as they glimmer. The moon, too, is hypnotically beautiful tonight. It’s waxing, and you don’t doubt that in a week or so it will be completely full.

Before long, you can feel a shift in the air, a slight weight that wasn’t there before, and your attention is drawn from the sky. Turning to face Seokjin, he has an expression like he wishes to speak, to ask you something, his eyes flicking periodically from your form to the sky and the flowers in your courtyard.

“Is everything okay, Seokjin?” you ask after a few moments. You wanted to see if he would voice whatever is on his mind by himself, but when he remains hesitant you decide to help ease him into it. “What’s on your mind?”

The hybrid eyes you for a long few moments, amber eyes glimmering, before he realises he is staring and promptly rips his gaze away. You fight a smile for the sake of his pride.

“I just…” he stops as suddenly as he starts, teeth sinking into his lip. Curiously, you note that his canines are a little bit longer than your own human ones—you hope that doesn’t mean he is prone to nicking himself with them. “I…”

You wait patiently, kicking your feet a little and taking a sip of your drink. Seokjin catches the movement of your legs and a small smile catches his lips. It drops when he sighs a moment later, apparently focusing on ordering his thoughts.

“I didn’t think this would ever happen,” he admits finally, voice small and a split second from cracking. His fingers tap against the mug in their hold, his eyes averted from your own and his brow furrowed. You give him a few moments, and he elaborates for you. “I didn’t think I would ever�� we would ever, you know…”

When he risks a glance your way your head is tilted, eyes on him as you wait patiently for him to continue. He flushes, mumbling.

“I didn’t think… we would ever get a home.”

It’s as though your heart freezes in your chest for a moment, your mouth dropping open a little bit. Seokjin fumbles over his words a little, but now that he’s started he doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

“I-I mean, I kind of always knew Taehyung would get a home. He is sweet, and loyal, and he meets the aesthetic requirements of his batch. He’s shy, but it’s not a deal-breaker for everyone. But I…” he swallows, blinking rapidly; your hand itches to wrap around his own and intertwine your fingers to comfort him, but you refrain. “But I… I don’t fit what they want, what they aimed for. My features are a mutation—by the definition my creation was an experiment and my existence is a failure.”

“Seokjin…” you breathe, your own eyes stinging. He takes in a shaky breath, sniffling sharply once.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this…” he says, and you can see his cheeks glowing with heat once more. “I… I can’t help it, though. You…”

He flushes further, if possible, and looks incredibly embarrassed about what he’s about to confess. His tail whips anxiously behind him before wrapping around his middle, ears pressed backwards.

“You feel… safe, to me, to us,” he admits in such a soft whisper your ears strain to hear it. He can barely look at you he is blushing so badly, and you curse the way your heart flips in response to his fluster. “P-please don’t think it’s weird, b-but your scent… it is very calming. It… feels safe. For Taehyung, too. E-even though we haven’t scented y—”

He suddenly cuts off, eyes blown wide and an expression of mortification crossing his handsome features. Unfortunately for him, you can’t squash your sudden burning curiosity.

“Even though you haven’t what?” you prompt, eyes searching his features—Seokjin looks very much like he’d rather sink into the earth and become one with the soil than answer you.

“N-nothing. It’s nothing, it’s not important.” You thought he was just flustered, but to your surprise you note a bit of fear filtering just barely through his tone. What is he scared of? Does he fear that he’ll receive some sort of reaction in particular from you? The idea saddens you a little bit.  

“Seokjin, please don’t be scared to tell me things,” you say softly, finally allowing your hand to reach and grasp his own. He jolts, looking to you with wide eyes; yet his fingers still curl around your own immediately, and the action soothes any sudden worries that might make themselves known in your thoughts. As you speak, you realise that part of his hesitation might stem from the feelings he hinted at the other day. “Nothing you say or do will ever be a deal-breaker for me, Seokjin. Nothing you do will ever be something that makes me take you back. In all honesty, unless it was something I knew you wanted, I’d rather chop all four of my limbs off than take you back or do something that would hurt you.”

The hybrid is more than taken aback at your words, his mouth hanging open and ears part-way extended from his hair. It takes him a few moments for your words to sink in completely.

“Do you mean that?” he asks, and his voice cracks. His eyes begin to water. “Do you… do you really mean that?”

You nod at him, smiling softly. “I’m happy with you and Taehyung, Seokjin. I want you.”

The last three words that fall from your lips are simple yet seem to have a more profound effect on him than anticipated. He lets out a whimper, a choked-sounding gasp of sorts, and jerks as though he wants to throw his arms around you but restrains himself at the last moment. He doesn’t speak, can’t seam to speak, but the second you catch his gaze with your own you find an ocean of emotions shimmering and swirling before you. Gently, you take his mug from his hands and place it with yours down by the end of the hammock. When you sit back up, you open your arms to him and he doesn’t waste a second, another whimper escaping before he throws himself at you, hammock rocking dangerously from the momentum of his movement.

His face is shoved in the crook of your neck once more, arms looped tightly around your middle. You feel secure, safe, and your chest warms with affection as Seokjin shifts and brings you closer to him, barely a few movements away from pulling your straight onto his lap. You run your hand up and down his back soothingly, fingers dragging over the firm curves of muscle.

“Thank you, y/n.” His voice is a barely-there whisper that brushes your neck gently, and you can feel the movement of his lashes as he scrunches his eyes shut and presses his face closer. “Thank you.”

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, leaning your head against his as you did last time he embraced you; he lets out a happy chitter. You feel at peace, content, and you can feel the shift in the air—can feel how he has opened himself a little more to you.

“You’re more than welcome, Seokjin,” you murmur.

And you mean it, you really do.

x     +     x     +     x     +

The next morning when you awake, it’s not to your alarm like you expect. Despite the fact you’d still returned to bed later last night, especially after your little one-on-one with Seokjin in the courtyard, you still didn’t want to sleep in too late. To be fair you love sleep, but don’t particularly enjoy the feeling like you’re wasting the day when you wake up too late. Hence, you’d begrudgingly set an alarm despite the fact you don’t really have to be up for anything.

Even so, you’re quick to realise upon waking that the alarm you’d set on your phone isn’t the culprit. Instead the real cause reveals itself as you crack your eyes open and rub them blearily, eyesight gradually adjusting. To your complete and utter surprise, it’s Taehyung’s face that greets you as you come to your senses, his cheeks already flushed the second your gaze lands on him. Confusion filters through your mind and then concern in quick succession—Taehyung has never come into your room before, what made him now?

“Taehyung?” you query, sitting up suddenly and clearing your throat so your voice doesn’t stay so rough. “Is everything ok? Did something happen?”

His cheeks flush further but he holds your concerned gaze as he shakes his head, shifting nervously where he’s standing by the top of your bed. Something twitches on your shoulder and you realise quickly its his finger, his hand gently cupping the curve of it—he must have been gently shaking you awake with his hold.

When he shakes his head, you feel all the tension leave you in one big huff of relief. “Oh thank goodness,” you manage to say before a yawn stopped you in your tracks. “What’s up, bub?”

Again you tacked on the nickname unthinkingly, and it seems to fluster the poor hybrid even more than it did Seokjin the night before. Taehyung stares at you with wide eyes, tail trembling behind him—his ears aren’t flattened against his head, though, so you take that to mean you haven’t embarrassed him too badly.

Instead of speaking—not like you expected him to at this point, in all honesty—he bites his lip and moves his hand to grasp your own. You have barely a moment to register how soft and warm his palm is as it cups yours before he’s tightening his grip and tugging it gently, urging you to follow him. Confused but curious to see what he’s up to, you allow him to guide you from the bed and out of your room, following him as he makes a beeline for the kitchen.

To your surprise, upon entering the kitchen you’re greeted with the sight of two plates with some cut up fruit, boiled eggs and toast placed neatly on top. Off to the side is a third plate covered in plastic wrap so nothing gets on it, and you assume that one is for Seokjin whenever he wakes. You return your gaze to the other two plates as you draw closer, sniffing and absolutely salivating at the smell of freshly-made coffee as it brushes your nostrils.

“Oh, Taehyung, that smells and looks delicious,” you praise him readily, keeping your hand in his as you move closer to inspect the meal that had been so nicely prepared for you. You can’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat, the giddy feeling tickling your stomach, at the fact that Taehyung had taken the time to do this—for you. And Seokjin too, but honestly considering how close they are you wouldn’t expect anything less.

He shakes his head shyly, blushing, and attempts to shake his hair so that it hides his face from you. His ears flick towards you at the giggle that escapes your lips, and he bites his lip as he forces himself to return his gaze to you. You watch as he reaches with his free hand to grasp one of the plates, before standing still and waiting pointedly. Quickly, you do the same, begrudgingly releasing his hand so you can grasp your drink as well. His arm twitches towards you before falling to his side. Cheeks burning, the male makes sure your attention is on him before he turns and begins walking from the kitchen. It doesn’t take you long to realise where he is going.

The sun is warm as it kisses your skin but the air is cool enough to elicit a shiver as you step outside, following the male closely. He moves to the hammock, already smiling as the sun hits his skin, and settles down before looking over at you expectantly. You really can’t hold your grin as you move over quickly, sitting down carefully so you don’t rock the hammock too much. You have to take a quick sip of your drink as you lower yourself so that it doesn’t spill over the top, and let out a pleased hum at the taste. He made it perfectly how you like it—it seems he’s more observant than he lets on.

“What a pretty day,” you comment, taking in the cool shadows of the morning in contrast to the crisp patches of sunlight. Taehyung nods from beside you, lifting his fork but hesitating before using it. You’re confused for a moment, before you realise its something both him and Seokjin have subtly done ever since they’ve been here. They won’t start eating until you do. You’re a little disappointed in yourself for not noticing earlier, since it’s clearly a carry-over of whatever rules they were taught at the lab. In your defence though, as soon as you see food you develop a tunnel vision of sorts. It’s clearly something you need to work on.

Quick to pick up your own fork and start eating so he doesn’t have to wait, you tell him he’s always welcome to start before you. He blushes, but after holding your gaze for a few moments nods in acknowledgement. You beam at him and he averts his gaze, shoving a piece of melon in his mouth. Cute.

You chatter idly as you sit there with Taehyung, not in an attempt to fill the silence so much as just because you wanted to—most of what you were saying were praises and thanks, anyway. He’s clearly flustered at your words but also seems to preen, clearly a little bit proud of himself. You’re pleased to see that. Little by little, he seems to be coming out of his shell, and the prospect is exciting.

Taehyung finishes before you, and the second the last item of food leaves the plate and enters your mouth, he takes the ceramic from your hands and moves it with his own out of the way on the ground. A temporary location. You’ve barely finished chewing when he pops back up, looking somewhat hesitant but with a shimmer of something else hiding in the depths of his gaze. His fingers clutch each other as he looks at you, tail winding and then unwinding around his waist as his ears lower then raise again.

Your immediate instinct is to ask him what’s up, but you hold yourself back—part of you wants to know if he’ll tell you himself, even if it isn’t with words. You want to see how he will proceed.

He seems to catch on quickly that you’re waiting for him, as he wriggles and averts his eyes nervously. He takes a deep breath, straightening his back, and frees one of his hands so it can lift—before it falls back down quickly and he loses his nerve. His cheeks are flushed still, so whatever is on his mind is clearly flustering him, and you continue to wait for him to do what he wants to do in his own time.

His hand lifts again, fingers tentatively touching your hand, then your arm, then your neck where it meets your collarbone. He retracts his hand immediately after, looking troubled as to how to convey what he wants. Curious, you watch as he gathers his thoughts and seems to steel himself once more, before he reaches out with only the slightest tremble to his hand and points at you. He then moves and wraps his arms around himself, looking at you pointedly.

You’re a little lost on what he means, a few possibilities trickling through your mind, but you decide to take the least likely and tease him a bit. “Are you asking if I’m I cold?”

Taehyung’s face drops, his ears twitching as he realises how you could have gotten that message. He huffs, shaking his head, and wraps his arms tighter and higher around himself. This time, he drops his head gently to the side onto his shoulder, looking at you pointedly with pink cheeks.

Biting your lip to contain your smile, you can’t help but tease him a little more. “Do you want a teddy bear?”

A grimace twists his features for a moment, before his expression drops completely—something that makes your stomach fall with it since he seems to be about to give up. He seems even more embarrassed now, in combination with downcast, as he straightens back up, and you’re quick to try and remedy the situation you just created.

“I’m kidding, Taehyung,” you smile softly, fingers fiddling in your lap. This will be really embarrassing for you if you misinterpreted what he was trying to say. “Do… do you want to cuddle?”

Immediately, his expression lights up, and he’s nodding so hurriedly you’re worried he’s going to pull a muscle in his neck. A laugh spills out of you of its own accord as you adjust your position on the hammock, moving to lay down along it and opening your arms to the male.

Taehyung, in what has to be the boldest movement you’ve ever seen him make, dives into your arms so eagerly that the hammock rocks dangerously as a result. It pulls another laugh from you as he stiffens and tries to hold his balance for a moment, tail a little more raised than usual and wriggling in excitement. Once he is sure the hammock has calmed and he wont be tipped to the ground, he eases himself down next to you and wriggles closer, so that he isn’t pressed too closely to the edge.

He seems pleased to have gotten where he is, but you still catch some hesitance in the way he is lying next to you, his arms curled at his chest and tail flicking restlessly. Your shoulders are pressed together, he’s not apart from you, but you get the feeling he is itching to be even closer still. You catch it in the small shifts and wriggles he does, the way his fingers twitch and legs move despite how still he stays.

“You’re too cute, Taehyung,” you laugh, the soft sound catching his attention as he looks up to meet your eyes. “Come here and actually cuddle me.”

With that, you shift and slip your arm beneath his back, wriggling into a more comfortable position and pulling him closer. He blushes madly, but seems relieved you’ve given him the go-ahead as he’s quick to wrap his arms around you, too. You’re on your back and he curls around you on his side, one arm slipping beneath the curve of your lower back and the other draping across your stomach—funnily enough, the way he’s holding you is like you are a big teddy bear in his arms. His tail is soft as it curls over his hip and, as a result, over yours too. The fur tickles you a little and you can feel Taehyung smile against your skin where his face is pressed to your neck. Part of the hammock is in the cool of the shade, but with him cuddled so close you’re more than warm enough.

Humming, with one hand you play with the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other you smooth and brush through the fur on his black-tipped tail. Instantly, the hybrid absolutely melts in your arms, body going so slack in contentment that it melds to your own. You catch him inhaling deeply and then letting out a big breath, the puff of air hot against your skin. His ears flick against your jaw, taking in each and ever sound around you. It’s…. serene. You feel so at peace, and comfortable—you can only hope Taehyung feels that way too.

The silence that settles over the two of you isn’t uncomfortable, in fact it’s quite the opposite. It’s like a blanket of warmth, and before long beneath it and the suns rays the two of you find yourself getting sleepy. Not long into your position on the hammock and you feel Taehyung’s breathing even out completely, his body curling around yours even more as he buries his face further into your neck. You follow him soon after, sleepy eyes drifting closed and sleep eagerly reclaiming you in the comfort of his hold.

x    +     x     +  

It can’t be much later that you’re shaken from sleep by movement on the hammock. Blearily, you open your eyes and blink away the remnants of sleep, struggling to focus them and see the cause of the movement. Taehyung shifts against your side, pressing futher into your neck and clutching you tighter. It’s not him.

You look up and catch Seokjin frozen in his movements, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Uh, y/n…” he stumbles over his words, clearly embarrassed. You quickly realise what he was trying to do as he goes to pull away.

“’s okay, Seokjin,” you smile at him, if somewhat sleepily, and grasp his hand in yours—you use the grip to tug him gently down. “You can come cuddle too.”

The hybrid is visibly overjoyed at your words, and wastes no time in crawling completely onto the hammock as he’d been trying to do before, curling into your side like a puppy. His bushy tail is wagging slightly, before he forces it to calm and wraps it over his hip so it flops over you as well. He seems a little unsure and hesitant of where to put his hands and head, and with a soft giggle you guide his head to your shoulder and his arm to drape over you. You don’t realise Taehyung is awake as well until he moves the arm across your abdomen to hold Seokjin’s hand, resting their conjoined palms over your stomach. The action warms your heart like nothing else and even in your sleepy haze you can’t help but grin, nuzzling into both of them and enjoying the warmth on your skin from the sun and their embrace.

You can only hope that they won’t be afraid to hold you like this again after today.

a/n: thank u for reading, pls let me know what u think!! and feel free to let me know its not total trash by dropping a like or rb,,, if it’s not too much trouble!! and if u enjoyed this and would like to support me, pls feel free to drop by my ko-fi :3

masterlist || prev. | next.

[cosmosrival]

Any NSFW KamaxMaster hcs, Riri? Bless us with your knowledge!

HMMMMMM..... I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A LITTLE BIT and i don’t know if it’d count as master*servant ship headcanons but... TAKE EM!!

also jus to make sure and to get p*dos off my blog for good: these are milf/dilf kama headcanons ONLY !!! final ascension!!!!! my content aint for weirdos!!!

ok lets go!!!

kama as a lover would be... very interesting to say the least, bc since they’re the god of love, you’d expect them to play the part !!! but their kind of loving isn’t the romantic type. They’re the god of Carnal love so despite knowing everything there is to know about lust, i believe that they’d be genuinely embarrassed when talking about vanilla stuff and very very soft and tame topics. they’ll tell u about every single position u guys could do and if ure a beginner they’ll be more than happy to teach u everything they know! But ! going on dates and holding hands???? (kama voice) THATS CRINGE DUDE!!!!! GO ASK PARVATI HOW ABOUT THAT????? but they’ll come. they’ll have a bit of a breakdown if u hold their hand but they’ll be there. and they’ll be there on time

AND I THINK THAT THIS IS WHAT MAKES THEM CUTE !!!!! 

i headcanon kama as being a vers !!! but they top by default ! hell, i don’t see them being a pillow princess type, even when they’ll let you dominate them they’ll just be powerbottoming and praising you, i think they can’t hold back on being talkative during the act!! BUT THEY CAN ALSO VERY EASILY ADAPT TO THE PERSON THEY’RE WITH, so if you’re more of a beginner/shy/passive, they’ll be the one coming onto you in this... lazy way, gently Ordering you to show them more (oh yeah they’re very well aware that youre the master here but whats a master to a god? ha), reasurring you that it’ll be fine and that if you’d rather keep the lights off, you guys can do that. their hair glows and their limbs are constantly burning anyway so they’ll find you in the dark no problem. though if you’re more dominant/aggressive/comfortable then they’ll see you as a challenge, even a rival to be quite honest. they know for SURE that you’ll never be better than them, but might as well crush your hopes before they get too high ya know? so even if you have them pinned down they’ll just taunt you, ask if this is all that you’ve got. ask if you can hold on for a few more rounds. ego bruising is part of being horny !!!!!! so you better be ready !!!

kama’s buttons are overall easy to push i think, because if you choose to come onto them with vanilla little touches, cute smiles and cuddles, they won’t know how to react. THEY’RE EASY TO TEASE ONCE U’VE BROKEN PAST THIS... Strong Lusty Exterior, especially if you compliment them on anything else but their skills in bed. call em cute when they’re angry. this one is an instant kill because they’ll just... be stuck. if they get mad you’ll call them cute again. and if they don’t get mad then it’s your win. STUCK !!! and their face is RED 

hmmmm....... i think masc kama’s cum is galaxy liquid. its just regular old cum and tastes like it but it just has star/milky way patterns in it. yeah. dont ask me about this one. just take it.

i’ve also been thinking about masc kama having an apadravya piercing... even if kama themself does not have a link to the kamasutra since it’s a book about human pleasure, in chaldea they’re much closer to having the condition of a “human” since they’ve become a “pseudo-servant” (they also have a demon inside em aha! though they’re obviously still a God and should be treated as such) so despite knowing everything that’s said in the book, they’d love to boast about it. ITS NOT THEIRS BUT THEY LOVE ACTING LIKE IT IS!!! CAREFUL WHEN GOOGLING THAT PIERCING NAME THO !!! ITS A COCK PIERCING OOOPPPSSSS!!!!! tho of course, since they don’t technically have a body, they can remove this jewelry at will to satisfy you however u wish !!

my fem lean kama piercing headcanons are right here !!! same headcanon as above, they can remove em/make em disappear since they can shapeshift at will !! 

i don’t see them as the type to dress up.... first because it’s a little annoying and if their emotions go haywire the cloth might burn... but they can definitely see the appeal. their “body” is already perfect so if you have a kink for something in particular they’ll provide and make sure to hide the best parts so you’ll have to imagine the rest. (or take em off...? ;)

OH BUT YOU ? THEY’LL LOVE TO DRESS YOU UP especially if they’re topping. it’s all part of their sadistic little humiliation game so make sure to accept all of their love okay?

their relationship with masters can vary, since we’re all different aint we. Aha. but one thing will stay the same and it’s the fact that kama trusts you to teach them about soft romance. in their dialogs and bio, it says that they can’t stand dummy couples but i believe that it’s because they genuinely crave it more than anyone. (especially since Rati doesn’t seem to exist in the fgo timeline :( ) being your most favourite sex friend? they can do that. being your sole lover?? UH..... (SWEATS)

what else does ree have..... OH YEAH !! i believe that kama is overall extremely kinky and it’s hard to surprise them. but since they’re so lavish, quite elegant and have this... aura of luxury to them, i think that the Gross Kinks(u know the ones. Real bad stuff i wont mention here) are an absolute no on their list. being the god of carnal love is one thing but they have standards!!!! no i will not come back on this headcanon and if ppl try to debunk it, stay away from me blog !!

i like to think that they genuinely adore porn sites and see it all as a tribute for themself. once again, they stay off gross shit but the vanilla tag? THEY CANT CLICK IT. ITS TOO EMBARRASSING TO CLICK. help them out.... ;) (opportunity to tease +1)

they’re very good at giving massages but i think they’d prefer receiving them most of the time !! though, if you’re into them and they’re blowing ur back out/riding u, they’ll make em feel extra special just for you

i don’t know if they’d have a favourite position... they’re very versatile, so they’ll go along with your preferences

they’re very open about following what you’d like to do since they’re already good at everything!!!!! u pick !!! then they’ll dive in and eat you out/suck u off right there

they’re a big spoon by default. yep. BUT BEING THE LITTLE SPOON MAKES THEM VERY SHY AND EMBARRASSED AND ITS CUTE coax them into being a little spoon sometimes Please

i think that they’d consider everything remotely sexual a way of worshipping them, so they’ll gladly watch u masturbate even if they don’t have to actively participate

ITS HOT AS HELL DUDE... TAKE UR CLOTHES OFF

i picture them constantly wearing this... lazy, arrogant smile, especially if you’re topping. think you’re that good, huh ?

though it vanishes very quickly if you start treating them gently. tomato ! ONCE AGAIN: EASY BUTTONS TO PUSH !!!! 

they’d find toys very funny and practical. so they’re not above using those on you and they’re also into you using it on them. THEIR RANGE IS WIDE AND THEY’RE EAGER TO EXPLORE i love them so much theyre such a dreamboat

OH THIS GOT LONG SO IM GONNA STOP THERE BUT IF U MADE IT ALL THE WAY DOWN: THANK U FOR READING MY BRAINROT!!!

[is-that-another-soulmate-au]

Zukka Soulmate AU part 6

@mypureessence

@chaoticidiott

@ari-shipping-stuff

@knightedbot

@idkhowbutimgayer

@swampy-beans

@angrylittleintrovert

"I'll see you after the war prince Zuko" Jee said while leaving with Zhao

"Traitor" Zuko snipped at him with an angry stare, how could he just leave? He honestly saw him as a friend at that point, not that he ever had a good Idea of friends.

Jee just gave him a sad look and whispered "I'm sorry."

Once left on the boat with just him and his Uncle Zuko felt panicked. He paced back and forth on the ships deck until Iroh pulled him into a hug "don't panic too much Prince zuko, you'll dry out your scar. Say, why don't we go for a short walk together? Perhaps we could find some native flowers along the way"

"I dont want to go for a walk" Zuko pouted "Im going to sleep, dont be out too late, I hope to leave by dawn"

"Do you remember your sailing training?"

"Of course uncle, I went over it every morning with the captain"

Iroh gave him a nod and was off on his walk. Zuko looked towards the moon, it was getting close to a full moon. Maybe he's watching the same moon right now. He flushed at the thought and shook his head before heading to bed.

So they were at the northpole now? Of course he knew they were traveling to find Katara a wonderbending master. Given that there were none in the south pole. That's weird isn't it? Of course the firenation had done something to get the advantage over them but what happened to all the waterbenders? That village did seem rather... small? Why was Sokka the only warrior there? Perhaps the warriors left with what few benders they probably had?

Thinking back to the day he first saw Sokka he remembered only the glare from the boy with war paint covering half his face. He hated him, clearly he did, of course he did, why wouldn't he? What was Zuko but a traitor to his own nation and an enemy to every other nation. He only had one option right? He had to capture Aang and bring him back to his father. That was the only way he'd ever get his fathers love back and he knew that... didn't he? If he knew that then why was it so tempting to take Katara up on her offer to join them, why was he so tempted to try with Sokka?

A sound outside his room brought him out of his train of thought with a start. "Uncle?" With no response he went on the defense, stalking down the hall outside his room. He held a firebending position, ready to defend himself at any given moment.

When he reached the captains room he looked around at the map. A screech from outside caught his attention and he looked up to see that parrot from the pirates he screwed over. "No" it flew off and he heard explosions go off only managing to encase himself with fire as protection a split second before it reached him.

Screaming he flew out the window, gaining a few cuts and scrapes before falling into the water several feet away from his ship. When he came up for air he stayed low and hid behind another ship. The timing was fairly obvious, those pirates were sent by Zhao to kill him.

Meanwhile at the northpole Sokka was laying down on his cozy fur bed ready for sleep when he felt his whole body heat up and pain on his right eye and cheek. "Sokka?" Katara said from the doorway "oh my gods what did he do now?"

Sokka brought his hand up to his cheek and lifted it away to reveal blood just before he had the breath knocked out of him for a good few seconds. Gasping for air once it was flowing again he looked up at her "I..."

"Look you dont have to admit anything but I think someone just tried to kill Zuko... or maybe they succeeded..."

"What? No, he's indestructible, he probably got away and fell or something" He hopes... wait... why would he hope that? Zuko is a prick, he doesn't care if he dies or not.

"For both of your sakes I hope he survived" Katara said, reaching to her necklace

"You never did tell us how you gor that back... did you?" Sokka narrowed his eyes

Katara gave a shy smile "well, I told Aang... guess I forgot to tell you, my bad... Zuko gave it back actually."

"What?" Sokka's shock was more than clear in his voice

"Oh dont sound so shocked Sokka, when the pirates attacked he gave the necklace to me before tying me up and... he actually was the one to give me back the scroll and cut the string... called it a favor and told me to get lost though" she gave a shrug "here, let me help you with those cuts, maybe it'll help him too"

Sokka smiled at her and closed his eyes when she reached him with that glowing water. The sting of the cut was soothed by the cold water almost instantly. "Thank you Katara"

"No problem, now get to sleep so you can get back to wooing the princess tomorrow" she teased

"I am not wooing her, I'm just... I like her okay? And she doesn't have a soulmate but she likes me... or at least I hope she does... I just want to make her happy while I'm here." He paused "I cant be her forever abviously" he gestured to his scar "but I can at least be there for her now right? I think that would be enough to make her happy for a short while" Katara gave a knowing look and juat nodded before Aang came back

"Pakku trained you longer today huh? Early tomorrow we're doing one on one?"

"Yeah, he wanted to make sure I didn't have any distractions" Aang rolled his eyes "and yeah, one on one's are tomorrow, you're gonna kick their butts"

Back on a firenation ship away from the found family and heading towards Ice and cold Zuko was harboring with Iroh on Zhao's ship "you didn't have to do this" he whispered to his uncle while sliding the front cover of his helmet off

"No son of mine is going to stow away on a ship without some back up" wait... son?

"Son?" Zuko asked in a stuttered whisper

Iroh gave a soft chuckle "sorry, I misspoke dear nephew... anyhow, do you have a plan?"

"Im working on it" Zuko slid his cover back on and averted his eyes "When will we reach the pole?"

"By late evening tomorrow.. hide out in the life boat docks, nobody checks those besides me and Jee"

And thats just what he did, resting between the barrels surrounded by ropes and oars. That night Jee managed to slip in to check on him. "Prince" he heard Jee call out to which he sturred and snapped his fingers to alert him to where he was "ah, prince, I came here to give you this"

Jee held out the hair ribbon that had fallen from his hair when he fell out of the ship. "Thank you Jee, I guess I should wear it somewhere else for now"

"Your neck would be best, though that would be more of a placement for a betrothal necklace in their culture so I suggest you wear it around wither your wrist or ankle"

"Betrothal? Like engagement or marraige?.is that what Katara wore? I thought she was fourteen.."

"Yes, that is what she wore, though I feel it was probably passed down in her family and likely does not symbolize engagement." Jee spoke softly while Zuko lifted his sleeve for Jee to tie the ribbon around his forearm

"They've been through alot, I just hope it doesn't mean something too terribly important since I gave it back to her"

"You what?" Jee said as he finished tying the ribbon and pulled down Zuko's sleeve

"Hah, yeah, I wanted to do something... nice I guess..."

"Are you coming around for him" Jee wiggled his eyebrows at Zuko with a grin

"Oh my Agni, shut uuuup" he shoved Jee who only laughed

"Y'know... you remind me alot of my younger brother... before he well.. yeah, the war isn't nice to anyone" Jee gave a small sigh

"How do I remind you of him?"

"Oh you know, stubborn, dramatic, gloomy," Zuko glared at him but Jee only chuckled "and a heart of gold covered in dust laid there by others"

That statement stayed with him the entire time he was breaking into the northpole. A heart of gold. His mind echoed as he came out of the water to find the seal turtle cove. Covered in dust. Rang out as he leapt into the next tunnel. "Laid there by others" he gasped out once he resurfaced in the icetunnel.

He let out a small breath of fire and looked out over the village he was now in. This village would be attacked come sunrise. He only had a small amount of time to rest and get his bearings before then.

He had to find Sokka... no.. no he had to find Aang, though he hoped Sokka was safe with his sister.

Why was he here, what was he doing here? He was here for the avatar... but he couldnt stop thinking about Sokka and his bright blue eyes and his quick thinking. He couldnt help but think about how this would likely hurt him.

He gave a sigh before standing... there was something warm calling him. Not so much calling, but... pulling. He wasn't about to ignore it so he walked towards the heat, but made sure to keep out of sight.

The cold was bitter but not unwelcome... he could live here if he had to right attire. "Look princess, you don't have to have a soulmate to find love" was that... Sokka? He hid behind the wall and peered around it to look at him

"I know that Sokka, but we both know you're already chosen for someone. I appreciate you helping me feel loved while I was here but he will need you" the princess spoke and Sokka looked out away from her

"I know.. but I doubt he'd ever even choose me over his stupid honor" he looked back to her "is it bad to say that I like him? I mean, Yue, Ive always hated my scar, its just so... terrible, you know? But on him?"

Sokka gave a sigh "its not so bad... I mean his eyes Yue, they're so.... so gold its like they're glowing, he's beautiful Yue... but not only that he's strong... and I... I just rambled didn't I?"

Yue laughed "you did" she placed her hand on his unscarred cheek "but that is alright, perhaps Zuko will be able to listen to you ramble on after the war"

Zuko's face was practically boiling at this point, he had to get out of there and find Aang. That is exactly what he did. He found the oasis and spotted Aang and Katara. Wow, so thats what a calm avatar glow is? Nice to not have it detroying your fucking ship.

How he managed to get Aang tied up and in a cave is between him and a specific waterbender who could and would kill him but he'd never actually kill her. No amount of money could convince him to actually kill someone. But here he was with Aang waking up and giving him not a scared or angry look, just a... disappointed look.

"Really?" The airbender said with irritation.

Zuko sighed and just untied the rope and handed it to Aang "yeah yeah, I know, again right? Just tie me up and leave me here"

Aang certainly tied him up but he also tossed him onto the back of Appa when he landed and flicked Sokka's nose so he'd feel it. "I said leave me" he pouted

"And I didnt agree to it" Aang chirped and landed at the lead for Appa

"You didnt even say anything to it"

"Exactly now shut up and accept the help flippy"

"Flippy? Where did that come from?"

Aang just turned to him and then back to where he was steering Appa "You know where"

"Whatever" he pouted and turned away from them.

Watching the scene with Zhao, his uncle and the trio plus Yue play out Zuko worked on untying himself and luckily Sokka left his machete on the saddle and he was able to utilize that because dang were those knots good.

He ran after where he knew Zhao would flee and gave chase as soon as he spotted him. Throwing a fire blast at him and watching his face turn from defense to confusion to shock was amusing. "You? Impossible!"

"You tried to have me killed!" He screamed out as he landed on the ice beside Zhao

"Of course I did, youre the blue spirit, a traitor to the firenation!" The fight went on

"I had no choice!" Zuko cried out

"You could have chosen to accept your failure! Maybe then you could have lived!"

"Why would I want to live knowing a man who's biggest threat was a fucking fish beat me when I can easily break through his supposedly impenetrable fort and steal a twelve year old right from under his nose!" Zuko taunted with a laugh

"Because then you might have a chance to see your father one last time!" Zhao taunted back while jumping to the bridge

Zuko gave a shout and swept a fire circle under Zhao's feet and sent him to the ground "I dont want to see that bastard again unless he's six feet under when he loses to the avatar"

"So you are joining them?" Zhao growled out.

"No. I'm just accepting what needs to happen." He didnt manage to make his final blow because the water spirit swallowed up Zhao who refused his helping hand when offered.

The trek to Iroh and Jee at the small raft was easier than the journey in. He sat cross legged on the edge, just simply watching the waters "uncle... can you cut my hair?"

Iroh turned to him "of course Zuko... might I ask why?"

"Because I'm not on the side of fire anymore"

Iroh gave a small sigh but nodded "let me cut my hair with you? I've been waiting for you to decide this for some time" And so Zuko and Iro shed their high hairstyles, watching the hair float away.

"Are you planning on reaching out to young Sokka soon?" Jee asked with a small smile

"No, I just want to sleep"

"Then you should rest prince Zuko," a gentle but firm hand was placed on Zuko's shoulder "a man needs his rest" Zuko looked at Iroh who had placed his hand there and then to Jee who jusf nodded

"Okay" was all he said before laying down on the raft and drifting to sleep.

[rotomgender-moved]

Runs in Our Family, Part two

Warnings: Ask To Tag, Injuries

Word Count: 2.3K

Part Two

The first thing N noticed was the sheer noise that we're coming from this group of children. Second, was the child on child violence going on-

Where are their parents? It made them confused and concerned for a moment, did they not have a chaperone? Who would trust children with pokemon on their own?

It was when he saw someone cowering in the corner that he realized, yes, they did have a chaperone. They've just dethroned the poor guy.

"Pl-ease calm yourselves!" The man squawked, "We can't have anyone getting hurt! Especially Wally, the poor boy is sickly enough!" As soon as the man's gaze met N's, he got up and quickly struttsd over with the grace of a swana. "Oh thank Arceus- can you please help out? Entertain them for a bit so I can set up lunch? The triplets and Mallow asked me to distract them, but they're treating me as a joke-"

"I'll help. My name is N."

"Thank you, oh thank you so much! My name is Wallace, I was a gym leader back in Hoenn." Wallace greeted with a relieved sigh. "Just give me a moment, I'm sure you can handle it for a few minutes. I just need to grab a change of clothes so these ones dont get dirtied, they're a bitch to handwash." He chuckled a little, patting N's shoulder and slipping by.

"... language." N muttered quietly. 

He felt eyes bearing into him as the room suddenly fell silent, Ruby spoke up.

"This is the guy with the white dragon Nate was talking about! All the cool pokemon that he can talk to!" The boy grinned, throwing his hands up.

"Uhm… Hello-?"

"He looks like a twig." A voice spoke up, one with that accent he couldn't place who paralyzed him. The little brats.

"Yeah… He- He looked like a mess-"

"Okay! Okay that's enough!" As Rosa and Nate approached, tugging Hugh behind them like a ragdoll, N snapped his head to them.

"Why did you tell them about the white dragon?" N hissed, giving the twins and their friend a glare. "You aren't meant to just-"

"Shut up, N, anyways!" Rosa continued. "He's sensitive, so don't touch him or be too loud. Or pull his hair, I got bit for that once."

"He bit you?" A gasp came from a blond girl playing with her tall, blue frog pokemon. 

"No, Ex, his Unphezant did. Wh- Why would he bite me?"

"Isn't he that guy that Bede nearly killed in the woods?" Ex said, and a gasp came from one of those kids, as though he had been personally offended. From how he looked, N assumed Bede was one of the kids on the boat in a fight.

"It was not me! It was Gloria and you all know it!" He spat. 

"It wasn't me, it was Victor!" Gloria hissed back. 

"It was me- stop fighting you aggressive dunces." Victor smacked the back of Gloria's head. "Sorry about that again, Mint-Boy."

N starred in awe at how fast all these kids started antagonizing each other. It was almost impressive how tense the energy in the room is. He looked down to Hugh.

"Is this how it always is?" 

"Yeeeaaaah, just about."

"Oh my…" N took in a sharp intake of breath as Wallace returned, immediately sighing in defeat. Wallce had this elegant energy tacked on him that was absolutely torn due to the rowdiness of all the kids. 

"Did they give you too much trouble?"

"No, they were distracted tearing each other apart."

"I see, well. How about you show off your pokemon, or battle one of them? I'm sure they'd appreciate the form of stimulation that isn't… Whatever Silver, Gold and Crystal do." He motioned his hand to a group of three. That foulmouthed redhead getting put in a headlock by a brunette boy. Who seemed to be playfully insulting him while a young girl kept score on a piece of paper.

"Yeah… I'll do that." N nodded, stepping towards the group while Wallace went to break up the rough housing between the three mineral-named children. He immediately was met by a small, frail green haired boy, who had a nervous smile and a cheerful wave.

"Hello, sir! I was told you could speak with pokemon. I wanted to ask if you could hear what my pokemon can say?"

"Oh, uh." N wasn't sure what to do, ever since he had left Team Plasma he had never been around so many people. He thought back on Zoroark's words. That talking to people would do him some good. "Yes, I can do that for you and… Whoever else wants me to." He promised, sitting down.

"I'm Wally, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Call me N."

He met many faces so quickly! Barry, the energetic boy with a Staraptor who seemed to have nearly the exact same spunk. Wally and his elegantly worded Gallade, who worked tirelessly to defend the boy. The endlessly smiling Hop and his gruff, aloof Dubwool, as well as learning that the four accented children are from a place called Galar. Ex and Wy, two twins with teams that seemed to completely mirror one another. The hot headed Silver and his Magnasium, who N believes that Zororak would get along wonderfully with. 

Seeing all these trainers and pokemon with such diverse personalities couldn't help but make him smile. Especially the grins that they got being able to know exactly what they're pokemon thought of them. Silver's reaction made him the most joyful, seeing the boy try to hide that toothy little grin and begin to ride on his grass types back, whispering to her and thanking her. It made N's heart swell, so much so that he had to return the favor and do as he promised Ruby.

He released nearly all of his team except one; Zoroark, Vanilluxe, Archen, Unphezant and Klinklang. Leaving the white dragon out of this. Some seemed unimpressed, having seen all of these pokemon before. But quick as a bolt of multicolored lightning, some of them rushed over to examine them.

"What is it?" chimed Crystal, running her fingers through Archens feathers.

"Oh you're really tough-looking!" Barry grinned, Klinklang allowing the blond to feel its many gears. 

"This is that Zoroak you were talking about, right?" Sapphire questioned, examining the illusionist's paws. 

Question after question was thrown his way, as N chuckled and tried to keep up. 

"This is Klinklang, he's an electric-steel type pokemon. This is Archen, a flying-rock type. Be careful, it's shy! Zoroark is a dark type, Vanilluxe is an Ice type, and Unphezant. A flying-normal type." N explained, smiling a little as Zoroark nodded in approval. He began to ramble on about the pokemon, answering any questions and quieting down to listen to any of the kids' connections, stories and such. It seemed to calm down… Almost all of them. Except for one, who he had found left the room at some point… Wallace was gone as well. Maybe he had gone off with one of them for one reason or another? It caused confusion and worry to boil deep down inside his belly as he quickly realized which of the kids was missing.

Where had Sapphire slipped off all the sudden?

/// Sapphire ///

"Wallace, come on!" Sapphire called over her shoulder, dashing through the forest. In front of her ran her Blaziken, slapping away vines and thick brush so that the others behind it wouldn't trip and fall. Above them, the call of a Skarmory alerted them that Steven Stone was keeping up well and various other cries of pokemon meant that the entire group was keeping up.

Sapphire was in the lead as Wallace, Steven, Red, Iris and Cheren kept up. There was a disturbance, they knew that was true. It was something that they could just tell deep inside them, something Sapphire knew all too well. A tight ball in her guts that her pokemon seemed to feel as well.

"Over here!" Cheren called out over his shoulder, the cry of his serperior confirming his claim. "I saw the flash of a pokemon being returned! Tuxedo, short hair from the silhouette I saw!"

"Got it, Skarmory that way!" Steven called from above, leading the group away. 

"I'll check over there in case they run!" Sapphire yelled to the group, hearing a grunt of approval from Blue as she ran off with Sceptile. Her running steps crunched the leaves as the leaves thickened above. Blotting out the sky and leaving the light being emitted from glowing flowers, vines and mushrooms. 

The deeper she ran, the more the air thickened with the smell of heavy, damp leaf mold and sickly sweet tree sap. The deeper she ran… The more she realized how lost she got herself in the heat of the moment. 

Sapphire was lost in an unrecognizable part of the forest, lit merely by glowing plants and fungus and silence broken by the movement of distant pokemon and whistling wind. As she walked, she felt the ground disappear from her feet. Before she knew it, she was tumbling down into a small ditch. Sapphire yelped as she fell, feeling a pain in her arm as she hit the ground.

"Ow- ow." She groaned, slowly getting up as Sceptile slid down to follow its owner. When she got up, her Sceptile put a claw on her shoulder, grunting and looking around in preparation to attack at any moment. That moment came soon then she thought, two pairs of eyes suddenly lighting up the darkness, the movement of something stalking and something else dragging itself. 

She backed into the Sceptile out of fear, looking up at the narrow-eyed pokemons threatening glare. As the pokemon revealed themselves, Sceptile growled. A large, fiery maned pokemon with a dark brown pelt beside a tall, haunting pokemon made of wood and leaves. A lion and a tree, slowly stalking towards her. As she shut her eyes and slowly pointed, ready to command an attack, a voice spoke from behind the two pokemon. 

"Are you lost, little one?" A smooth and low voice with a kalosant accent, worry panging their voice. As she cracked open her eyes, she was met by a tall and regal man with long, red hair. His face was aged, but only ever so slightly. Maybe in his thirties or forties. "Are you okay?"

"I'm… I ran off trying to find someone that did some bad stuff." Sapphire explained. "Got seperated from my friends."

"Oh my," The man began, approaching a bit and opening a pocket. "You're hurt, let me help you. Show me your arm." The brunette looked, noticing her arm had a bleeding cut. She hadn't even noticed the cut itself when she initially fell, too struck with shock and fear to notice anything but momentary pain. She held out her arm, which the man carefully took in dark-gloved hands. As though he would shatter her in a moment. 

"Thank you." She quietly nodded as he began to clean the wound with some disinfectant pads he had in his pocket. Soon following it uo with two or three bandaids. 

"No need, petit ami. Is your Sceptile alright? I'm sorry if Treevanant and Pyroar caused you any trouble."

"No! No- they just scared us. Sceptile's okay."

"That's good to hear, a relief." He nodded. "My name is Lysander, I was invited here from Kalos. I missed the main boat so I came on a different one." Lysander explained, taking his hands away. 

"Sapphire, Grass Type gym leader in Hoenn." She introduced herself, sticking her injury-free hand out. Which he took and gave a gentle shake."

"Pleasure to male your acquaintance." Lysander nodded. "Allow me to take you to the home of some friends and I, you can rest up for the night and be on your way. It's quite late."

"Is it?" She asked.

"Yes, nearing the faery's hour." He explained, patting Pyroar's back. "Come and sit on him, I'll guide you back. I promise he doesn't bite." Lysander offered, slowly backing away.

Sapphire thought for a moment, this wasn't the first time in her journeys she's accepted such offers, as well as Sceptile being right beside her, she decided her best interest would be to accept. 

"Alright! Thank you again."

"No need." He smiled warmly, directing his pokemon to bend at the knees and allow her to climb on. As they began on the path, he clicked the button of a PokeBall to the Treevanant, returning it. "I'd hate to see someone with an injury rot away into something hideous."

Sapphire nodded, stroking Pyroar's mane with a hum. The pokemon was quite warm and each swish of its tail caused embers to float in the air for a moment. Leaving small wisps of light only to die out, the silence broke as Lysander joined in the humming with a tune. His warm smile has turned softer, more relaxed. 

"What are you humming?" Sapphire tilted her head.

"Oh? An old song from Kalos." He shrugged, only making her curiosity rise.

"Can you sing it? I wanna hear it." She grinned as he knitted his brows in thought. 

"If you wish," He chuckled a little as he cleared his throat. "Forgive if I'm rusty."

"Comme les ténèbres obscurcissent la lumière,

L'or du soleil étouffé par la nuit d'argent

Oh, petit, ne te laisse pas faire confiance

Les sauvages qui font des bonbons avec de la rouille

Ils arpentent les chemins, les forêts de fae,

Et avec la lune ils font ce qu'ils peuvent

La nuit hantée par les fantômes et les Gengar

Ils portent des malédictions de près et de loin

Toutes les personnes de Kanto à Galar

Sachez que les pierres pointues et les roses

Cachez-vous parmi les étoiles."

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Creature Comforts (Jimin x Ara)

Contains: Fluff. Minor bickering. Flirting. 

We imagine this taking place a few months after the events of Jimin and Ara’s scenario in ‘They use sex toys with their girlfriend’ and shortly before his military enlistment. 

We wanted to show some moments between the members and their girlfriends that may not seem grand or important in the long run, but that highlight some of the conversations they might have in private. We also don’t want to shy away from some of the arguments, disagreements or bickering that might take place. More couples to follow soon.

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist can be found here

Content below the cut

The full clothes stand which partially blocked the entrance to the living room caught his attention as soon as he closed the front door, its sides overflowing with damp laundry. He wondered why it was in the hall, before noticing the portable heater which had been placed precariously close to a dangling sleeve. Its presence made his heart skip unexpectedly, realising it meant Ara was home. The lack of noise from the adjoining sitting room told him she was likely in the bedroom and the urge to go straight to her was overwhelming, but he took the time to switch off the electrical device, sensing she had forgotten about it and not wanting to risk a fire. As he straightened, his eyes were drawn to a pink garment folded over the edge of the rack; the tiny logo embroidered on the pocket instantly recognisable. His mouth dropped open in a silent gasp and dropping his shoulder bag on the floor, he unhooked the material, heading down the hall. 

“Ara?” Twisting the door knob and pushing into the bedroom, he called out her name, eyes fixed on the long-sleeved shirt which he held at arm’s length, as though the bundle of fabric were covered in bugs. “What happened?” He asked.

She looked up from the duvet where she was laying outstretched on her side, a hard-backed book resting on the pillow in front of her. “Oh.” Noticing his entrance, she sat up at once, curling her bare legs to prop up her slender body.

Jimin looked from the shirt to his girlfriend who blushed in response, raising her hands from her covered lap to her face. “I’m sorry…” She cringed, placing her palms flat on her eyes for a moment before removing them with a grimace. “I saw the laundry basket was full and wanted to be helpful.”

“It’s my favourite shirt!” He exclaimed with exasperation as he drew it to his body and turned the garment over in his hands. Its once pristinely white colour was now stained to a rose-hued blush. 

“I know…I really am sorry.” She groaned. “I thought it was all your clothes, but there was something red in the basket.” 

Her cheeks remained pink as she shifted position on the bed, adjusting the trim of her low-cut dress to protect her modesty as she looked at him. While the ruined shirt had been a shock, he could see she had meant well by washing the clothes which he had so carelessly left strung around the apartment in her absence, and couldn’t be angry with her. He took a deep breath.

“What was it?” He asked with curiosity, voice softening as he discarded the shirt on the edge of the duvet and crawled to sit beside her.

She hesitated for a moment, before shaking her head. “You don’t want to know.”

A sly grin crept onto his face. “Now I do…”

Her hands once more rose to her face, clutching her cheeks in embarrassment. “It was one of my thongs.” She admitted quietly, prompting Jimin to grin widely, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he stroked her bare knee gently. 

“Well, I guess they’re pretty tiny…” He teased.

“Shut up.” A matching smile grew on her face as she placed her hand on top of his. It was obvious she was feeling bashful about the whole situation as well as a little deflated, having admitted to him on a number of occasions that she sometimes found it hard to complete daily chores around the house, often becoming distracted or accidentally breaking something. Once, while sweeping up the large shards of a shattered glass on her hands and knees in the kitchen she had broke down in tears and, through the sobs, declared to him that she was failing as an adult. 

Jimin let it drop and, leaning forward, kissed her cheek gently. He could feel its heat radiating from the surface of her soft skin. “What time did you get back?”

She seemed to glow in the aftermath of his touch, her digits slowly wrapping around his as she recovered from her embarrassment. “In the afternoon. Didn’t you get my text?” She frowned.

“Not yet.” He said, having last checked his phone just before the short drive home.

“Oh.” Ara murmured. “I sent it before I set off. Maybe it’s stuck in the...whatdoyoucallit?”

“Ethos?” He suggested.

She let out a laugh, her fingers stroking his as she shook her head. “Ether.” She corrected.

His mouth twisted in a smirk at his simple mistake. “I’m not sure texts can get stuck in the ether.” He shrugged. “It’s not got a net.”

Playfully, she gently hit his upper arm. “You know what I mean.” A giggle escaped her lips. “Maybe it’s delayed because of the phone services abroad.”

He internally groaned. “You should have waited until you got back. It will cost you a fortune.”

She met his gaze, eyes sparkling. “We’re going to debut next month, so I’m hoping I’ll see a proper paycheck soon.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” He sighed discouragingly. “It took us years to make any money.” 

“I’m sure I can at least pay off my phone bill…” She reasoned gently before a hushed, but comfortable silence fell between them. They naturally moved down the bed, huddling closely together as they shuffled against the duvet to get comfortable on their sides. His arm glided across her waist, feeling the gentle curve of her hips beneath her dress as they faced each other.

It took a moment to register what she had said, and a timid smile crept onto his lips. “So you’re going to debut?”

She nodded. The change in position felt more personal; more loving, and she lowered her voice to a more intimate tone. “In Japan. They think we’ll be more of a hit over there.”

“You’ll be a hit everywhere.” He flirted, fingertips leaving her hip to roam under the floaty trim of her clothes. “Especially if you wear this dress…”

She slapped his hand with a toothy grin and he pulled away quickly. “Stop playing!” 

With a laugh, he resumed his previous position, holding her waist steady. “Do you like being in Japan?” He murmured. 

She hesitated. “Sort of…I miss home though.” 

He heard the longing in her tone along with something else; something which sounded like regret. “What do you miss the most?” He inquired softly, shuffling closer until he could feel her warm breath against his face.

“The smell of my bedsheets when I’m with you.”

“Mmm.” He mumbled in agreement, letting out the softest moan as he pecked her lips. Her sweet, fruity fragrance seemed to linger in the air, even when she wasn’t there and in the days following her marketing trip, he had hugged the duvet at night, pretending she was with him. “Anything else?” He said hopefully. 

“Homemade kimchi.” 

Her blunt answer made him laugh out loud, and he reluctantly pulled away to prop himself against the headboard, suddenly remembering he had interrupted something when he barged into the room. He glanced at the edge of the quilt as she joined him, her movements a little groggy from her long day at the airport. 

“What are you reading?” He asked, squinting to see the cover which was wedged open on the sheets.

“Poetry.” She followed his gaze and picked up the book, placing it carefully on the bedside table. 

“You like poetry?” He toyed, eyes full of mirth. 

Shrugging, she turned back to him. “I’m trying to write some lyrics. I thought I might get inspired.”

His eyebrow raised teasingly. “So you’re a song writer now?”

“I don’t see why not.” Her voice was a little musical as she resumed her previous volume. “It’s not like I’m ever going to be the lead dancer.”

“I thought you were getting better?” He frowned, sensing the complaint in her tone. 

“I was…” Drifting off, she thought for a moment with furrowed brows. “It’s just more difficult with dyspraxia...I get all flustered and lose my balance…” She explained dejectedly. “I’m taking the lead vocals instead.”

This perked him up. “Are you serious?”

Nodding, she observed his smile and sighed. “I feel bad for the others. They’ve been working so much longer than me. It doesn’t seem fair I get to fasttrack…” The falter in her voice made him realise this had been playing on her mind for a while. 

“I wouldn’t complain…” He said softly, stroking her hand. “You’ll work hard enough in the end, trust me.”

She shrugged. “I guess so…”

Her eyes followed his movement as his hand found hers, a minute of silence stretching between them before he interrupted her thoughts. 

“So the thong that ruined my shirt…” His expression was unreadable as he turned to her. 

“Yeah?” She questioned timidly. 

“Are you wearing it now?” He gently mocked, lifting the hem of her pretty dress before she could protest and taking a peak at the little, frilly triangle of material between her thighs. They were a pale yellow, not red, but he grinned regardless as she tugged the fabric from his grasp and yanked it down.

“Stop!” She squealed, unable to help her giggles as he pulled away with a grumble. “You should get something to eat…” She insisted, calming down and gesturing towards the door. It was getting late and, as predicted, he hadn’t eaten since midday. 

“Okay…okay...I’m going…” He sighed dramatically as he slowly rolled off the bed and got to his feet. “I’ll make you some kimchi. Will that make you happy?” He turned back to look as she picked up her book, finding her place among the aged and slightly bent pages. 

Her lips turned up as she drew her gaze from the hardback. “The happiest.”

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

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