#thinking specifically about that one time where he very firmly said sleep bc i was tired and refusing to sleep

[starsonmarsy]

if you say something to me authoritatively enough it becomes a command

[bitchslapblastoids]

Random parasocial phan lore speculation; do you think that when they had seperate bedrooms they were actually sleeping in different beds? Bc ive definitely seen the sentiment floating around since BIG first came out, and even before, that the different bedrooms were just for show, but to me that just doesnt make sense. Like yeah they were both very closeted but also when they moved to london they were also extremely broke and it doesnt make sense to me that initially they only rented a two bedroom apt for show. Like i know this is the "whole fake apartment" duo we're talking about here but that was when they were already mega rich and has started building a million dollar forever home. When you're broke and 21 years old even internalised homophobia and being closeted doesnt seem to me like a good enough reason to rent a whole extra room that you dont plan on using. Personally i think when they were younger they very much utelised having seperate areas for themselves. I think dans room was His room. His own space. And phils was the same. And they probably just picked a room at night and slept there. Or slept in their own beds. I know we joke about dnp being completely codependent, but its also very clear from an external pov that they have a really healthy relationship. And they have worked, lived and spent all their free time together basically since dan was 18. I dont think its possible for any couple, not even dnp to do that without having strong boundaries for personal space, and the physical space to enact that. I dont think they really started to cohabitate in that sense until like. 2016/17. They 100% shared a bedroom in the second london apartment and they obviously definitely share a room now, but i dont think that was the case in the early days at all. And I think probably even now in the phouse they have their own spaces where they can exist by themselves and text each other from across the phouse.

(P.s they uploaded right as I was typing this which is so rude of them to interupt my important thoughts)

to no surprise i've yapped about this before, as someone who is rocking a happy healthy separate bedroom longterm relationship!

yeah i've always been firmly in the camp that having their separate spaces has protected their own sanity. they both really are introverts with different habits about how to keep a space. thinking specifically about sleeping - they are large men, one of whom we've learned snores very loudly. their manchester and london beds were doubles (maybe queens?) which, while fine for some snuggly nights, does not provide much space to spread out when you're long-limbed.

other reasons i think they prob slept separately a lot - phil has said he likes to sleep with many pillows, while dan's manchester and london beds (which definitely seemed used (not used in a weird way just like consistently rumpled whenever we saw it which was often for many years)) always only had 2 pillows max. phil's london bed had 4. they had some text exchange that i can't be bothered to track down in one of the wdapteos about hearing a beeping noise in the night or something, and phil saying he thinks it's something in the kitchen. to me, it read like what you'd text someone when you're in different bedrooms in the same home. plus, the different hotel rooms on tour (instead of just one room w/ two beds, which would be a totally normal thing to do). i know it seems like they often ended up in one another's rooms, but they could spend their evening together and then sleep separately if one of them really needed the rest. snoring can truly drive a person mad.

but also, all that aside, i do think that no matter what, they would have had two bedrooms in manchester & london to protect their own privacy while they were closeted. there's just no world in which they would have moved into a one-bedroom apartment for their first london spot. i doubt that was ever even a question. they were closeted to what seems to be almost everyone in their lives. meanwhile, they had guests over fairly often, and their careers were filmed out of their own home. trying to hide a one bedroom apt would have been way too much of a risk, and they basically wouldn't have been able to have anyone over without outing themselves.

i agree that it seems they shared a bedroom in that second london apt, bc we never saw an actual phil room, only the set, and barely saw the 'dan' one. and it does seem like now in the phouse, the 'dan room' is the primary bedroom. but i'd imagine phil also views the green room as 'his' in that his wardrobe seems to be in there, it's a space he can retreat to, and it's a separate bed he can sleep in. ok long answer done!

tldr yes i think they've taken advantage of sleeping in separate beds

[feralforfrank]

simon riley x fem!reader

random headcanons bc i cant stop thinking about him

he'll deny he's a pet person, especially when it's cats. that's until you rescue a kitten (joe). you're pretty sure simon loves him more than you.

loves napping. no matter the time and place (well, only if he feels his surroundings are safe enough), he's catching up on sleep, like there's no tomorrow. (ext.1)

simon definitely has a cupboard in the kitchen full of cans and packets of food that can last a long time and a bag under the bathroom sink full of necessities. you poke fun at him, saying that a zombie apocalypse won't happen any time soon. but he disagrees.

"you don't need to buy more peanuts, simon. the cupboard is full, and there's no way the apocalypse will start tomorrow," you say, pushing the heavy cart as simon scans the grocery store shelves.

he suddenly stops, and the cart screeches suddenly, mere centimetres from hitting the back of simon's knees.

he turns to you, his face serious. "better safe than sorry, love."

you look at him, bewildered, but accept the packet of nuts he hands you.

he has a blast watching horror films with you, especially the bad ones.

a) if you get scared easily, his favourite part is the post-film night routine. he'll tease you about being jumpy as hell, shut the light when you're in the bathroom just to hear you screech and call his name in a panic, and scare you by sneaking very quietly (thanks to his military training) in rooms where you're at and scaring the life out of you.

b) if you don't get scared easily, you'll both laugh at the gooey stuff that's supposed to be blood, the exaggerated and dramatic screams, and criticise every part of the film.

"we should be film critics, yeah?" you say between giggles.

"think we'd do a terrible job, lovie."

i firmly believe simon riley likes biscuits with his tea. even better if you are the one making them. there's a specific recipe you start making when the chill of october becomes too much. he doesn't know what you put in them, but remembers when you said you stole them from taylor swift's tumblr.

"oi, love!" he shouts from the kitchen.

you already know what he wants. and why he can't find them. "what is it, si?"

"where're those singer biscuits you made?" you can hear the cupboards opening and shutting.

"the chai cookies? i hid them."

in no time, you hear his footsteps approach the bathroom. you click on your earring as his frame fills the doorway.

"what d'y'mean you hid them?"

"i wanna take some to my mum today, and if i had them out there in plain sight, you'd eaten them all."

"i'd taken two," he grumbles. he knows that's not true. the biscuits are delicious.

"i'll make you more tomorrow, yeah? a whole bowl for you only."

you kiss and tap his cheek, and his lips twitch in a small, triumphant smile.

"can i, at least, take one. before my tea gets cold."

"fine. just one." a feather-light kiss lands on your shoulder. "okay, two."

simon also likes going shopping with you. he likes spending money on you and for you. so when there's an opportunity (usually a party, or rarely a military ball or some fancy shit), he takes you out and tells you to pick whatever you want, no matter the price.

(i think he just likes sitting in the lounge area of the fancy shops and scaring off wandering eyes.)

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[entishramblings]

It’s Not That Bad [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: I’m so sorry I have not been writing as often. I’ve had zero time. But anyWaYS...here is a fic that has been requested by someone who has always been into my writing so thank you for supporting me and here is a fic for you! Additionally, I did some research on herbs and stuff so I could make this at least a little accurate!

Request: @quilledinkpen — Hellooo i hope you're having a good day ^-^ I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader? Something like she's travelling with the fellowship and is kinda the unspoken "mom" of the group, like she's always doing her best to make sure everyone's safe, and reminding Pippin and Merry to be careful and stuff like that. Just an all-around motherly person lol (mainly to the Hobbits bc they're her babies but she looks after the other guys too) I think it'd be cute ^^ Thank you!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N), a healer, travels with the fellowship. She takes care of everyone and is basically “the mom friend.”

Word Count: 2, 510

Warnings: battle wounds that are kinda graphicish?

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) was a well known healer throughout all of Arda. Many traveled to her for treatment for life threatening ailments. But now, now it was her time to travel throughout the lands of Middle Earth in search of a salvation for all. A gruesome quest to destroy the evil ring of power had begun and someone well versed in natural apothecary was needed. (Y/N), of course, volunteered for this role for there was no one better suited than her. Besides, it was her duty to contribute to the survival of this world as she was one in it and relied heavily on what the earth produced. And if Sauron was to rule.....well, we all know where that would lead: no earth, no life, just darkness.

(Y/N) ruffled through her dark-brown leather satchel as she sifted through her healing herbs. Little pouches filled with athelas leaves, echinacea stalks, alder bark, valerian roots, and more piled inside the confinements of the fabric.

“Sam,” She called out. “Would you mind making hot tea for Frodo while I take care of Strider’s cut?”

The little hobbit ran over instantly and she passed him a couple pouches naming each one out loud, “Valerian root, dried chamomile pedals, and sycamore bark.” She then lowered her voice and leaned it, for it wasn’t anyone else’s business to hear. “It will help him sleep and deter the anxieties the ring bestows upon him.”

Sam nodded quickly and set to work as (Y/N) moved towards Aragorn who sat upon a large rock.

“Let me have a look.”

The dunedain rolled his eyes, “(Y/N), it is not that bad. Just a scratch.”

The young women sighed in annoyance and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a slash across his bicep. He was right—to an extent—it wasn’t terrible. He would not need stitches. However, it did need to be cleaned and wrapped for infections were nasty things.

(Y/N) started by pouring some alcohol over the wound; receiving a harsh hiss from the dunedain in response. She muttered a quick apology before continuing. The young woman ground athelas leaves into a fine paste and expertly smeared it onto the cut. She then unrolled gauze and placed it upon the wound. Lastly, she pulled white dressings from her satchel. She gingerly wrapped it around his arm, yet she was careful to still pull it taught as the goal was to keep the athelas paste in and bacteria out.

She stood up and brushed her hands off before placing them firmly on her hips. “See Strider, it takes only a couple minute.”

He grumbled at her comment but thanked her for the medical attention.

(Y/N) nodded quickly and went to check on the rest of the fellowship. She made her way to Boromir who was also sitting in rest. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Boromir, how are you doing? Any wounds?”

He seemed slightly startled at first for his mind had been elsewhere, but he looked up at her with a soft smile.

“I’m quite alright, My Lady.”

A light chuckled escaped her lips. “My friend, how many times must I tell you? It’s (Y/N), no lady of any sorts!”

He shook his head and grinned at her, “Well, my lady, I am doing quite fine.”

She let her eyes circle into the back of her head as the corner of her lip pulled into a smirk.

The healer turned and made her way to Gimli who was sharpening his axe.

“Gimli, I trust you are alright as I see you are already preparing for the next battle even though we just endured one.”

His gruff voice answered immediately, “Aye lassie! Those orcs can’t ensnare a dwarf that easily!!”

She laughed at his comment as Merry and Pippin came rushing up to her. As soon as she saw their faces she knew that the two mischievous hobbits wanted to claim her attention. She lowered herself down to their height as they flung themselves into her arms.

“Ahh my two hobbits! How did you fare in the battle?”

They pulled from her hug and began speaking at the same time.

“It was intensely scary but we were fierce!”

“Merry had hit one with a tree branch! It was quite magnificent!”

“Yes it was, I would have to admit! And Pip tripped another and he fell flat on his face!”

(Y/N) beamed at the two and giggled at their attempt to tell the story. As much as she was focused on caring for everyone, the hobbits cared for her—in another way that is. The four of them brought joy to her heart and glee to her spirit. Their innocence and appreciation of the simplest things brought happiness to her soul. They had offered her a welcomed visit to the shire at any time; telling her of the grand tour they would take her on. She had grown to look upon them as children for their smallness and way of perceiving life was similar so.

The two scampered off quickly, most likely to share their adrenaline filled story with Boromir, while (Y/N) did a final scan of the fellowship.

Her eyes soon rested on the elf. Legolas was off to a distance standing upon the rocky tundra. Something about his posture made her frown. His back was to her and his head seemed bowed, as if he was looking down at something. Furthermore, his one arm was pulled up at an awkward angle—strange, even for the elf. As the healer that she was, she was compelled to check on him.

(Y/N) weaved through the rocks until she was only a short distance from him.

“Legolas?” She questioned softly.

He immediately whipped around. His shirt fell to cover his form, but not before (Y/N) caught a glimpse of bright purple, red, and black. The young woman’s lips instantly parted in shock. She had seen many wounds in her life, on many people of many different races. However, it was not often that she had an elven patient with a wound like that. To state it simply, (Y/N) was worried—that looked bad, very bad. Legolas on the other hand was only flustered for he, an elf, had gotten snuck up on. He did not have great concern for the injury given that there were far more important things to worry about.

“Legolas,” (Y/N) stated firmly. “Lift your shirt.”

He sighed, “(Y/N), it’s not—“

She interrupted him, “Let me guess, ‘It’s not that bad?’” She shook her head, “You and Strider.”

She stepped forward and took the hem of his shirt in her hand. She cautiously lifted the fabric, not caring about the socially deemed scandalousness of the action—she was a healer after all.

(Y/N) sucked in a breath. A relatively large bruise stretched across his torso with a sizable cut in the center of it.

“By the Valar, Legolas!” She exclaimed with exasperation. “You should have come to me straight away!”

“(YN)—“

She cut him off again, “No. don’t ‘(Y/N)’ me. This is serious. It could be internal bleeding. I don’t care that you are an immortal elf, you can still die from this.”

The healer gently let her fingertips brush against his skin, tracing and examining the injury. He winced in pain at the contact and that did not escape (Y/N)’s attention.

“How did this happen exactly? I need every detail.”

Legolas groaned again when she grazed over the cut; and when he spoke it was with heavy breaths, “A harsh kick to the side into another orc....” (Y/N) hand pressed on the bleeding laceration and he hissed in pain before continuing to speak. “...who—who slashed downward.....with a jagged-edged blade that had a—a curved tip.

(Y/N) looked up at him with concern, his breathing was getting labored and that was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Alright, come on.” She ordered. The young woman practically dragged the reluctant elf back towards the group and pushed him down on a rock.

She knelt in front of him and, once again, ruffled through her satchel.

“Take your tunic off,” she commanded while pulling out various pouches and gauze dressings.

(Y/N) could feel all of the fellowships’ gazes on the two, which only intensified when Legolas removed his tunic. She could hear the hobbit’s hushed whispers and concerned tones for the wound was gruesome and ugly—probably the worst they have ever seen considering their simple lives.

Once she had all her supplies ready, she set to work.

(Y/N) was kneeling in-between Legolas’s legs while she studied the torn up, bloody, and bruised fresh for yet another time; it was imperative that she made a plan before starting.

During this examination, the young woman could not help but let her eyes wander across his chest and rippling muscles. The bends and curves of his form looked perfect against his pale complexion. He was incredibly toned and well built, even more so than humans. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him.

Additionally, battle scars of various shapes and sizes littered his body—which was expected given he was over 2,000 years old. Here, she took a moment to study them for if one really looked at a warriors scars their fighting style would be revealed. Many stretched across his being—specifically on his ribcage, sides, pecs, and abs—it was clear that he was way more reckless than he would like people to think. He was fast with his moves, going for the quickest way to an oppenent’s death, but that often left him exposed. No wonder he ended up with this terrible bruising gash. He lived up to the Mirkwood elf expectation—less wise and more fierce.

As (Y/N) realized that her mind had wandered too far off task, she cleared her throat and reached for the flask of liquor.

“This will sting,” she stated before pouring it over the broken flesh. As expected, a loud groan escaped his lips and his fists clenched around nothingness.

Carefully she dabbed the area with a cloth. (Y/N) then threaded a needle and began to sew his skin back together. The elf was stiff as he clenched his jaw and flexed his muscles—a natural reflex in this kind of situation. She continued to pull his skin taught so their was no more breakthrough bleeding. It seemed that he had gotten used to the sensation as she went given he began to relax. Next, she made a paste for the wound, much like Strider’s. However, she decided to use more than athelas leaves because this cut was more severe than the Ranger’s. (Y/N) ground up echinacea stalks and mixed in alder bark to soothe inflammation and fight infection. Gently she applied the blended mixture into his torso. Lastly, she wound gauze and dressings around his midsection in order to keep everything in place.

Much time had past given stitches took long; luckily, the fellowships’ concerned glances faded.

(Y/N) stood up from her position and it was then when she released just how close the two were. She stood between his legs, their faces inches apart. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t have cared for she often had to be in such proximities with others as she was a healer. But this wasn’t anyone else, it was him.

“You—you should be fine now,” (Y/N) whispered. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards. “I will have to check on it every day and redo the bandages. And I advise you: no sudden movements, and no lifting heavy objects—like the hobbits.”

Legolas cracked a smile at that last comment. “Thank you, (Y/N). I truly appreciate your skill.”

“That is what I’m here for, is it not?” She adverted her eyes and kept her hands busy by gathering her supplies for she feared her expression would betray her.

Legolas put his tunic back on as he spoke, “I suppose it is, but nethertheless I thank you.”

......

As the days went on she continued to check Legolas’s wound. (Y/N) tried to make it more private by dragging him off to the side or away from the group, given that she suspected it was uncomfortable for him to undress everyday in front of inquiring eyes (aka the hobbits).

It was dusk when she crouched down to examine it once again.

“It is healing nicely,” She said. “A lot faster than I suspected, but I suppose that is because you are elven.” Her nervousness caused her to continue speaking when she did not wish to do so. “I mainly treat men....and dwarves. It is not often that I have a wounded elf at my door. Do you know an elf named Feren? I recall he said he was of Mirkwood Kin. I treated him once years ago for a busted leg when he strayed into northern territories.”

A small smirk crossed Legolas’s face, “Ahh so you are the beautiful healer who patched him up so well?”

(Y/N) felt heat creep up her face, “I—I would not say that—“

“Nonsense! He spoke of your beauty and skill many times, and he was not mistaken. I am just surprised that I have been lucky enough to gaze upon you and have you heal me.”

These words made (Y/N)’s gauze wrapping motions falter. “It—it is my job, Legolas.”

“Yet you go beyond your assignment and duty everyday. I see how you take care of us all, especially the hobbits. You truly have a noble heart.”

(Y/N) smiled softly and spoke in a teasing tone, “Well I suppose you are right—all you boys would be lost without me.”

A deep chuckled hummed in Legolas’s chest and the healer joined in with a bright laugh.

The giggles settled soon enough and Legolas spoke, his sentence quite abrupt. “How would you feel about coming to Mirkwood and living there as a healer once the ring is destroyed?”

Shocked, (Y/N) stuttered. “I—I am unsure. I don’t know if—“

“(Y/N)...” He interrupted. “I do not wish for the end of this journey to be the end of our acquaintance.”

The young woman looked down, “As I agree, but—“

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

Something about his tone made her freeze.

Ever so gently, he lifted her chin to force her to look at him. His voice was quiet as he spoke, “I—I don’t think you understand what I am trying to convey.”

Oh....

Now she understood.

The healer glanced at his lips which hovered near her own before biting her bottom one and locking gazes with him. Legolas of course noticed this and waisted no time. He pressed his mouth against hers and she instantly responded. Her hands slid up his bare chest, careful to avoid the wound on his torso, and then tangled themselves in his blonde locks. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist tightly as he focused on the taste of mint tea and fresh honey. The two moved their lips in sync and the world around them melted away. Suddenly, there was no quest, no fellowship, no responsibilities—only the two of them and the thudding of their hearts.

.......

Everything Tag: @sokkasdarling @scxundress @quilledinkpen @hufflepuffinblr @lea----b @aredhel-of-gondolin @princecami @the-fandoms-georgie @jazziwritestolkienprimary @wellfuckmyexistence

Legolas tag: @dark-angel-is-back

If you want to be tagged lmk!

[zuzu-hotman]

Ready To Love Pt.2 [[Zuko]]

Pairing: Zuko x Female!Reader

Warnings: More angst??? Dark-ish imagery?

A/N: Uh so I got asks for more??? I want you all to know most of my works are angst- but I live for good ends so dw (; I’ll link the first part after posting bc tungle is dumb. Anyways, probably gonna do a third cause there’s a bit more I want to do with this and I don’t want too much at once <3

Pt.1

“ Hᴇʏ, ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ?”

Seeing him again was like adding salt to deep wounds- rubbing the coarse grains deep into gashes, open and bleeding. You kind of hated that it hurt so bad- you were supposed to be over it. You were supposed to be completely done with him. With all remnants of him. His choice was clear- the truth was laid out bare for your eyes to see.

He was not who you thought he was. He was not the Zuko you knew in your mind- and maybe he never was.

No one who had once worn a kind smile could look like he did that day, right? There was no way someone like that could just... lose all sense of themselves? That look he held- the crazed fire in his eyes.. how those flames should have touched you- burned you. Perhaps Zuko was not as skilled as Azula. He didn’t bend the way she did, but that didn’t make him any less powerful. He had good aim- he knew you’d find it hard to even try to make an attack on him. He could’ve used that against you- it’s what Azula would have done.

You assumed that if he could so easily turn into Azula’s direction.. he’d be able to be as cruel as her. That he’d use your weakness to him against you. You felt the heat of his flames, you knew they could have scorched you. You weren’t that accustomed to fighting yet. For a long time you had suppressed your bending- scared of what it might bring you and what it meant for your future.

You came to regret that eventually. You could have told your parents- your Father could have shown you so much..

Fate was absolutely cruel- you firmly believed this now. She had no right to harm you like this- to drag you through the mud, already beaten down and tired.

She allowed him the chance to be in this group. You wanted to object, violently so. It wasn’t your place to though. Your personal ties to him had no place stopping him from teaching Aang about fire bending. The Avatar needed to know all four elements to bring balance. It was important to Aang’s journey and to putting an end to this long war.

That didn’t make you despise it any less. Hatred or anger- which was it you felt?

“Please talk to me..”

His quiet plea fell upon your ears in the dead of night, long after everyone else had retired to their own spaces. You had suspected he’d find his way to you soon- someway or somehow. With no one else around to bear witness. You hated how you froze in place- how all that anger just fizzled into nothing at the sound of him. So sad- so lonely. You were his only link to his former self, to who he should have become. A tiny string stuck on it’s last thin thread. You didn’t know that however. t’s not as if that was his only reason for reaching for you like this, and that you didn’t know of as well. You were in the dark on his feelings.

As you assumed you always had been.

“___, please..”, he whispers once more when he gets no response.

You make sure to keep your breathing even, to not move at all. Give him an inch and he’d probably take miles. Miles upon miles- stretch you until you break into tiny pieces. Yet some small pieces would still yearn- crave for what your brain told you not to. 

You hear his breath hitch a bit, as if he’s fighting back overpowering emotions- him? The glorious crown prince who had slain the Avatar? The prince who turned a blind eye to you, to his good Uncle? The audacity- and yet you felt no actual anger. Not when he spoke.

“I- I’m so-- ___ I’m so sorry. I know that’s not enough. I know it will never be enough- I was wrong. I did everything so wrong and Uncle- I’m sure he hates me. I’m sure you do too. I never meant- I thought it was my destiny to.. to.. capture him. For my honor and my nation. I thought I was right and..”, he takes in a shaky breath. You’re glad you can’t see him. His face just might break you. “I hurt you. I hurt Uncle. I-I made you not trust me- I disappeared and I never responded to any of your letters- I still have them I- I don’t know.. I don’t have a reason or any excuse I just.. please. Please at least talk to me- say something! Anything! I’ve missed you- I was miserable- it’s not home.. not without you. I made mistakes even there I.. even she told me that I was wrong.. even..” and he trails off, gaining no response.

Little did he know he was close to getting one. She? He didn’t mean Azula.. he would have said her name. You hated how your chest burned- what mistakes could he make there? At home? No- not home. Not your home.

“...You’re sleeping.. I hope. I almost got loud. I’m..”, he sucks in a breath, “Okay. Another time.”

You choose to ignore the way he sniffs- knowing all too well it meant he’d shed tears. If you acknowledge it, you know what may happen. You know how it’d go- how weak you’d be. This isn’t how it should be, you should be able to ignore him without batting an eye. He should be able to just let you go. He’d already done so. What was the use in this? Hadn’t he decided already, who he was or at the least who you were to him?

Clearly nothing-

You let out a heavy breath, almost shudderingly so when you hear his footsteps fade away. You clench your eyes shut, banishing any trace of wetness from your eyes. No no no- you would not cry. Not again, and not anymore. Remember how he looked- remember those crazed eyes and harsh blasts of fire. Remember and hold it- no apology could fix it. Not so simply. It would take much more than words because.. you weren’t sure your aching heart could take much more of it..

Morning came quickly, with no remorse to any who had not slept in her absence. Specifically to you or Zuko. Luckily enough, you hid it well enough. Zuko? Not so much. Clearly he looked like he’d had a fitful sleep.

Hmph-

“Wow. I didn’t know it was possible for you to look even angrier than usual.”, Sokka pipes up, already at his usual antics of antagonizing the newest group member.

“Shut. Up.”, Zuko hisses in response, causing Aang and Toph to laugh a bit at his expense.

“You really should sleep. Set a good example for your new student.”

“I said shut up.”

“He is kinda right, you know.”, Toph adds in, “It’s not good to be up so late.”

Zuko freezes for a moment, but says nothing else. You’d almost forgotten- Toph was very attuned to the earth. Of course she’d know if anyone was up and moving. The only thing to question was if she’d heard him. At the time though, there would be no answer to it. He wouldn’t ask and she didn’t seem keen on pressing the issue. No one else was aware either. So it just faded into silence, not spoken of. It was replaced by Zuko barking at Aang that it was time to start his training.

“I lost my stuff.”, he says it so plainly. Uninvited and without any context.

“Wasn’t me.”

Zuko makes a face, “No I mean my bending- I don’t know I..”

You decide to tune him out, spacing away from his frustration and Katara’s laughter. Was he really that out of it? He suddenly couldn’t bend? What a load of garbage. If he expected you to feel bad, you didn’t. Not even the slightest. Serves him right for the look he gave you when he learned of your bending. When he saw the element of fire was not in you to control, but-

“___” , He speaks your name softly.

You look up to where he stands, a few feet away. You hadn’t noticed everyone else had already gone to bed. It was just you and him and the dwindling fire between you.

“I-”

“Goodnight.”, you say, starting to stand up, brushing your legs off.

“Wait-”, he gently grabs the sleeve of your shirt but you push his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” You don’t look at him- you can’t. You must remain strong- don’t do what you did in Ba Sing Se. Don’t fall into that hole a second time..

“At least hear me out- get mad all you want. Scream at me- hit me I don’t care just-”

“I’m not going to do that. You made your bed. Lie in it.”

“I did, you’re right. I did and I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize. Teach Aang bending. I’m not a part of this- none of them know I knew you, which clearly I didn’t. I never did. I know you as this guy I bumped into in Ba Sing Se. This guy that I thought I was nice and had a good heart but I guess I misjudged. Maybe he just feels guilty or that apologizing to me might right his wrongs or whatever. If this is your way of getting them to trust you more, I’ll allow it. Anything to help Aang.”, you speak as calmly as you can. Not sparing a glance, “You already made your choices- you already let me go so just-”

“I don’t want to let you go though- I never wanted to. I just- I thought I was right. I thought that.. you’d come home. I thought that that was still home. I was wrong. I was so wrong-”

“Yet you still stayed, huh?”, you say, bitterly now, “You had a little life out there- you had your glory. Had the nation at your feet. The crown prince who slayed the-”

“I’m not that person! I never was!”

“You seemed to think you were! You acted the part! You were there for well over a month!”, you looked at him now, eyes burning, “You weren’t sorry enough to come back earlier! You didn’t think enough- you didn’t care enough! You were gone for three years! You never replied- I lost my Father! I lost what I thought was home and you weren’t there! I find you in Ba Sing Se- acting like no time had passed! Like we never grew apart! You talk to me like you still knew me, like you still cared! Yet you still chose to do what you did!”

He’d shrunk back a bit, shocked at the bass in your voice- how heavily it weighed on him. He didn’t know you felt all that. He had no idea..

“Your Father-?”

“Don’t.”, you hiss, quieting down, now aware you might have stirred the others from their sleep, “Don’t even. Don’t come to me with any apologies unless you really mean it- unless you’re ready to tell all you have to tell. I’m done with secrets and lies. Good night.”

You walk off now, leaving him to stand by the dying fire. His hand feels cold- his chest aches- your Father? That man he’d seen love you so happily- the home that was worn down but well loved? Gone? How had you suffered so without him even knowing- what had happened to you in his absence?

Why hadn’t he even thought of it?

How did he manage to screw up a screw up?

Zuko groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “...what would Uncle have me do- what’s right..”

How to salvage this mess?

“Mʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪs ᴀ sʜɪᴘᴡʀᴇᴄᴋs ғʟᴏᴏʀ..”

Pt.3

[angeltrapz]

Chainshipping ask!! Chainshipping ask!! hello beloved mutual Connor 💚💚 Just cuz idk I love couple shit, what do u think is their favorite movie to watch together? bc I think they have very different genre tastes so what is th one that just hits So Right for them both, their go-to for date nights where they can’t decide on smthn — also, bc i LOVE th idea in any situation of there bein a cork board that Adam pins his photos on: Adam’s top 3-5 fav photos that he’s put up on the board? Lawrence’s top 3-5? who’s in them, what’s the story behind them, etc!

hello beloved mutual adam!! tysm <3

ohh I've given that a lil bit of thought actually!! I agree that they have very very different genre tastes, like some of the shit Adam is perfectly fine w watching Lawrence couldn't ever sit through (I don't know that Adam likes, you know... Super Fucked Up Movies? I def think he doesn't mind certain aspects of horror/gore as much as Lar might though), and the same can be said vice versa. so because I am a simple man w simple joys, I actually do like to think it's The Princess Bride,,, (no it's not bc Cary's in it, but that's a plus) it's a movie that would've come out when Adam was pretty young but (since I like projecting??) it was smth that was on a lot after it came out, and I don't think he'd outwardly TELL ppl this, but it's a very good movie to watch when he's upset/tired/needs background noise. he could probably recite certain parts of it at this point but don't ask him abt it jdfkddfs

I think the first time Adam suggests that movie Lawrence looks at him for a moment and is like "really???" bc I firmly believe he would be really fond of it too!! he watches it every so often with Diana bc she really enjoys it and Lar can't say he doesn't enjoy it too,, he'll like try to get some work done while it's on (he and Diana will sit in the living room), but inevitably it'll get pushed to the side bc Lawrence gets caught up in watching it, no matter how many times they've seen it. so when Adam brings that up he's just like "!!!!!" internally!! he's so excited abt it + Adam can definitely tell, so the whole time he's just like "oh... I love you 💞💖💕"

I like the idea that they specifically have like, certain traditions when they decide to watch it, so like. they've got the comfiest blanket out on the couch, probably some sort of takeout or delivery if Lawrence hadn't made something for dinner himself, hot chocolate made with milk the way Adam likes it - sometimes they bake chocolate chip cookies together too!! just a nice evening to relax and enjoy each other’s company + a movie they’re both pretty fond of!! it usually ends with Adam’s head on Lawrence’s shoulder, his legs in Lawrence’s lap, sound asleep. sometimes Lawrence will drift off too for a little while, but once he wakes up he makes sure to wake Adam up too so they can go to bed properly (Lawrence will never admit to this, but sometimes if Adam whines and asks for five more minutes, well, Lawrence doesn’t have the heart to deny him,,)

+ YEAH I love the cork board idea too!!! I like the idea that Lawrence is the first to suggest it, ‘cause “Adam, you are far more talented than you give yourself credit for; also I love you.” bc Adam is 100% the kind of dude that takes pictures of his partners/friends/family CONSTANTLY. and even beyond that, Lawrence has always thought Adam was talented!! so it breaks his heart a little sometimes to hear that Adam isn’t confident in his skills/feels nervous sharing any shots with people. he figures if they have a cork board specifically for pinning up photos they like/Adam is proud of, maybe that will help a little bit to show Adam how much he loves his photography + how impressed Lawrence is with it!!

so, for Adam’s top three favourite shots:

the first is a photo of Lawrence in bed, having just woken up + with the early morning sun framing him in a gentle wash of light that makes his eyelashes bright and evident, along with softening the features of his face. Adam was already awake before Lawrence (though admittedly not for very long), and he was just overcome with the feeling of I Need To Document This. he stubbed his toe when getting out of bed to retrieve his camera, but it was totally worth it.

the second is actually one Lawrence took of him, and he totally teared up the first time he saw it but he’d never tell you that. it’s a picture of him leaning against the counter in their kitchen, wearing only his boxers and one of Lawrence’s t-shirts that hung off of one shoulder, and his eyes are closed while he’s holding a cup of coffee he’d just poured. his hair was a disaster, he was a little bit grouchy, he’d had trouble with the toaster, but Lawrence saw him and instantly felt like he needed to keep that moment.

the third is actually one of he, Lawrence, and Diana; it was taken using the self-timer feature so Adam could be in it too, because Diana wanted to have a picture of all three of them. this is the picture that actually DID make him cry the first time he saw it, because it’s just like. that’s his family!!! he loves them!!! holy shit!!! and Lawrence had to hug him for a while even though he was Also having a moment,, Diana walked up to the two of them and hugged them both too. it was a good moment for the three of them!!

for Lawrence’s top three favourite shots:

the first is one of he and Diana that Adam took one weekend while Diana was staying with them at the apartment, stealthily shot from the threshold of the kitchen. Diana is painting his nails light blue and telling him all about her day at school, and Lawrence is smiling and his mouth is open because he was in the middle of responding to something she had said. the faint glow of light from the TV and the lamps they have on the side tables paint he and Diana in a warm kind of light, and it just looks so soft. he’s so very happy with the family he has now.

the second photo is one that Adam had gotten when he was in the midst of changing into his sleep clothes, sandy blond hair a mess and his eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he glances in the direction of the camera with a tired smile. he’s actually grinning at Adam behind the viewfinder, slacks halfway down his thighs and his dress shirt unbuttoned to expose the undershirt beneath. he was tired as fuck and kind of a mess after pulling a long shift that Adam just barely stayed up for, so knowing Adam was probably worn out from waiting up for him and Still wanted to take a picture? it’s very much just 🥺🥺

the third picture is one that he took of Adam, wearing one of his college sweatshirts on the couch with his knees drawn up under his chin and his cheek resting against the tops of them. he was deeply focused on the movie that was playing (what the movie was, Lawrence forgets) and he was that soft kind of sleepy, eyes slipping shut every so often as he forces himself to stay awake to finish whatever it was. Lawrence had gotten it one of the times his eyes were open, bathed in the multicoloured lights of the TV, and god Lawrence just felt his heart clench and knew he needed this.

honestly, it’s pretty equal between the two of them on who takes pictures of the other, and though Lawrence is inexperienced and his shots are a little blurry or he forgets to keep his thumb out of the frame, it’s still perfect. Adam always feels his chest swell with this emotion of you love me enough to capture these moments forever, and honestly? Lawrence’s enthusiasm kind of builds up his confidence a little; that he sees Adam even with the wildest of bedhead and drool on his pillow and thinks Yes, I Need This. it’s so. 🥺

it’s their life, pinned up for anyone to see when they come to visit. the love that warms the apartment and their hearts, as evidenced by the numerous array of pictures they have displayed. it’s them, their family, their love, and that’s all that matters. <33

[angel-bazethiel]

What, How, Why is Flame Alchemy?

--or how Roy Mustang can potentially bottle up a star. --or I’m sleep-deprived and writing this fic that relies on a deeper understanding of how Flame Alchemy works and I’m posting what I thought of bc why the hell not? and if I read another post saying it’s plain ole combustion and how easy it is, I will probably lose my mind --or goddammit, where is Flame Alchemy?????

Content:

I. Introduction II. Mass-Energy Equivalence and Nuclear Energy III. Flame Alchemy? More like Nuclear Alchemy (and Other Myth Debunking) IV. Why would someone study such a research topic? V. Summary

Note: Long post and a lot of Science ahead.

I. Introduction

First we establish that whatever we know of Flame Alchemy is utterly bogus. Solely because of the fact that if Roy and Riza really wanted for the knowledge of it to die, no one will ever know of it. No one. So that explanation by Havoc about aligning oxygen molecules and then snapping to ignite them is not true. I mean, “reactive cloth?” What is that even made of? For a show that was extensively researched, that seems a bit lazy.

Also, this explanation makes Flame Alchemy sound so easy. So why isn’t everyone doing it? For a military-run country, one would think that something easy and can be weaponized would be mass-produced, right?

Another fact, fire feeds on oxygen, yes. But fire is a combustion reaction of oxygen and a C-H compound. Something I hope that the air in a 1900s FMA-Earth isn’t abundant of.

Although, I haven’t thought about what if the fuel Roy uses is H2 compounds instead of Hydrocarbons. That would be funny. Roy deconstructs H2O molecules only to create them again. But if you still want to see whether or not I’m crazy, by all means, do read on. I will still use Flame Alchemy = Nuclear Fusion for my fic. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, it got me thinking how does Flame Alchemy actually work? And my highly convoluted train of thought started while I was writing this fic where I based Riza’s mother on Marie Curie. (Which I may expand on but now is not the time.)

I thought then, so how about Berthold? Is he Pierre? Naw, man. Who else has had his research mishandled during a war? Who else was a brilliant thinker but is also such a shitty dude to the women in his life? Yeah you guessed it. And what is one of his greatest works?

II. Mass-Energy Equivalence and Nuclear Energy

Albert Einstein’s Mass-Energy Equivalence is such a simple and very elegant equation saying that mass is interchangeable with energy. This postulate led to this branch of physics (or chemistry, whatever) called Nuclear Physics/Chemistry. Bear with me.

Did you know that when you add up the masses of an atom’s nucleons (the collective protons and neutrons) the actual mass is not equal to the calculated? Where did that mass go? As it turns out, that mass defect takes in the form of energy that holds the nucleons together. And when we substitute that missing mass on Eq. 1, we have a specific number for that binding energy.

So what do we mean by nuclear energy?

Nuclear energy is the binding energy released when a nucleon is taken out of its nucleus. And that can happen by either of two reactions: nuclear fission or nuclear fusion.

Now I didn’t think much about nuclear fission because that’s shit’s nasty. And I’m sure that Roy doesn’t have Uranium just lying about. So let’s talk about nuclear fusion. Specifically, the fusion of Hydrogen atoms:

When you fuse two Hydrogen-1 atoms it has three products: deuterium, a positron, and energy. Fuse that deuterium with another Hydrogen-1, we get Helium-3 and energy in the form of gamma radiation. Fuse two Helium-3 atoms, we get helium-4 and hydrogen and more energy. Then start the process again if you want more more energy.

So what has that got to do with Flame Alchemy?

III. Flame Alchemy? More like Nuclear Alchemy (and Other Myth Debunking)

I firmly believe that the “Flame Alchemy” we see in FMA is just the H-H fusion reaction (Eq. 2).

And like an idiot, I only did my research after I thought of all that shit and found this interpretation of Riza’s tattoo.

I don’t know how how much of the tattoo is canon, I tried looking for it in the manga and the anime is too small to see. But I see it everywhere so-- it must be canon?

But in that post, in the upper left part of Riza’s tattoo, we see the fusion reaction of deuterium. And of deuterium and tritium. To which I say, why? Those Hydrogen isotopes are rare. I mean, fine, a D-T fusion reaction gives 40 times the net energy from an H-H fusion reaction.

And, sure, Roy can create deuterium and tritium himself, but it’s just not efficient. I don’t know how alchemy works but I do know that to do that (by which I mean an H-H fusion, then a D-D fusion, then a D-T fusion) would require more energy than just stopping at the H-H fusion.

So I stand by my statement that the “Flame Alchemy” we see in FMA is just the first part of the H-H reaction (Eq. 2).

a. So how does it work as seen in the manga?

Roy would line up the atoms to where he wants the reaction to happen. And here’s the kicker, he can use other light atoms just no heavier than Iron-56.

But I think he uses Hydrogen-1 because that shit is everywhere. Again, not the heavier isotopes. So we’re sticking to that.

How do we know that that’s what’s happening and not Roy doing whatever the hell Havoc said? Because we see this:

I don’t know about you, but I think the sparks we see when someone is doing a transmutation aren’t just there because it’s cool.  

Atoms require energy in order to stay bonded as a molecule. So when alchemists transmute, they break the bonds and release that energy. In this case, the energy released is in the form of light. (I also have some thoughts about why we see red and blue sparks but, again, now is not the time.)

If Roy is just controlling the O2 molecules in the air, we shouldn’t see any sparks because there is no deconstructing happening.

Hydrogen-1 is usually present as part of the many water molecules in the air. So, I think, what we see is Roy deconstructing the H2O molecules and pulling the Hydrogen-1 atoms to where he wants them to be. The Oxygen-16 atoms bond with each other and form O2 molecules but we don’t care about them.

Unless Roy fuses Oxygen-16 instead of Hydrogen-1. In that case, we will see an even bigger release of energy. OH! Maybe that’s why he uses his left hand for smaller and more controlled explosions and the other for bigger ones. Because the gloves are different! One is for H-H fusion and the other is for O-O fusion.

Anyways. Hydrogen-1 atoms, by themselves are positively charged. So to fuse two together we have to overcome the repelling force by those same-charged atoms. To do that, they must meet either at high velocity or at high pressure. In the manga, they do the former.

Remember the sound whenever Roy does his thing? That isn’t actually caused by his snapping. After all he is wearing gloves. The sound when you snap is made by the pad of your middle finger striking your palm. If your hand is clothed, you won’t produce any sound when you snap.

No. That sound is the sonic boom of Hydrogen atoms going faster than the speed of sound. Also, I don’t think his gloves is made up of some special material. He just snaps to cover up the sound. Everything is just nuclear fusion.

b. How about those “flames” that we see, then?

That is how we perceive the energy released by the reaction. When the energy is transferred into the surroundings, it gives off heat. Not only that, but the other atoms in the air get excited (this is a technical term btw) and glow. For all intents and purposes, I guess they are flames? Just not caused by a combustion reaction.

c. But if that’s how the Flame Alchemy works, then what is up with the useless when wet schtick?

That is a misconception. Sort of.

Roy’s alchemy will still be useless in the rain because there is just too much macromolecules in the air. He can’t align the atoms properly and the Hydrogen atoms may collide with the water molecules. That would decrease speed which he maybe can take account of. But the time to calculate then recalculate for each atoms can be too long. So he just lets Riza take care of the imminent threat when it’s raining.

As for when it isn’t raining, but he’s wet… I think he can still do his Alchemy, he just doesn’t. Because in doing so, it would deconstruct all the lies Roy and Riza have built around “Flame Alchemy.” Like that fight with Lust with Havoc. He manipulated Hydrogen atoms and I think he could have just fused them. Instead he let Havoc throw his lighter. Good thing Hydrogen is flammable. And this:

This is just Roy Mustang being the drama queen that he is.

d. Why would Roy and Riza lie about the Alchemy?

They feed false information surrounding Nuclear Alchemy because there can never be another Nuclear Alchemist. They created a version of the Alchemy and make up some magic cloth that supposedly becomes useless when wet. All of that so that no one can learn the actual secret. Maybe even discourage other alchemists, seeing as “it has such a huge weakness.”

IV. But why would someone want to study such a research topic?

Now, I don’t claim to know how Berthold Hawkeye’s brain works. But have you ever looked up to the sun and think, “Woah. That big ball gives life on this piece of rock? How does that even work?” I hope you haven’t because you will hurt your eyes. Please use protective eye-gear if you’re going to look directly to the sun.

All joking aside. It all comes down to energy. The sources of energy we have today have their pros and cons. Our main source, which is burning fossil fuels, is very much harming the environment.

So we look up. The sun has millions of Hydrogen atoms that undergo nuclear fusion. And the energy from that keeps all of us 7 billion little shits alive. What if we bottle up a star?

If we could ever recreate even the smallest fraction of that reaction, we can power hundreds of cities. And with Helium to spare, which we can use to blow out the balloons for our party in celebration of the fact we can finally stop killing our planet.

If nuclear fusion is so clean, then why aren’t we using it?

Because we still don’t know how to contain and control it. Today, there are two designs of fusion reactors and there are research facilities that conduct experiments. But so far they are still developing the technology.

And get this, this is a very hard and expensive thing to do. Whatever Berthold did, it’s genius. Way ahead of his time. He’s still an ass of a father though.

To add salt to the wound, like with what happened to Flame Alchemy in FMA, governments have used this research to create weapons instead. Because why try to contain that energy and use it for technological advancement when we can let it loose on a city, right? Hah. We are such dumbfucks.

V. Summary

So in conclusion, human beings suck. Kidding! Well, not really. But yeah. So. Flame Alchemy is a nuclear fusion reaction of Hydrogen-1 atoms. And it’s very hard to control and contain that even in 2020 Primary-Earth, we haven’t figured that shit out.

It could have been used for the people if the Amestrian government actually cared about the people. And after the trauma Roy and Riza experienced in Ishval, we may only see Nuclear Alchemy in the distant future when humans are kinder – not just to the world they live in – but to other humans they are living with as well.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[babysizedfics]

Poor roman :( but that being said I am heka interested in 5

remus humiliates roman in front of jamal (but jamal is a sweetheart)

vote from this concept voting post!

TWs: swearing, emotional humiliation, arguing, remus is generally pretty mean in this - not "unsympathetic" but his behaviour is not ok, brief alcohol mention but it isnt a main feature

first some background info on remus and ro:

roman and remus' friend groups actually run parallel to each other by pure councidence in that theyre the same age and are both in the local queer scene

usually they only run into each other on nights out and avoid each other like the plague... until one of romans friends and one of remus' friends become a very serious couple and the friendship groups merge

remus tends to hang it over romans head whenever they argue or remus just feels like teasing him that he could so so easily spill romans secret littlespace to all his friends

and while roman claims to not care he also really doesnt want that to happen, especially the specific things remus threatens to reveal (namely him calling his cgs mommy and daddy, and his fear of the dark - which remus knows are romans biggest embarrassments)

and remus never USUALLY actually follows through on his threats, he loves to freak roman out but he doesnt mean to be intentionslly cruel.

but one night theyve had an argument recently and remus is out to hurt roman and finally follows through on his threat to reveal romans secrets. in front of jamal

((the actual incident below the cut))

all the friends are walking back from a night out, and remus hangs back from the group to talk to jamal. roman is just glaring at remus and not saying anything and holding jamals hand tightly. remus hasnt embarrassed him too bad so far, just asking jamal questions and referring to roman as his "baby brother" which is so annoying, but the thing is roman can tell hes building up to something

then suddenly remus smirks when he sees a completely pitch black side street thats theyre about to pass by, and he calls out to everyone "hey guys, there's a 24/7 mcdonalds through here and its a shortcut to the bus stop" and everyones like WOO mcdonalds and redirects to go down the side street

and romans heart pounds watching the friends all filter down the street without a second thought, theres no streetlights down there, theres light on the other side quite far away, but before that its SO DARK. and he freezes in place and jamal is tugged back by it and looks back at him. "babe, come on"

romans starting to feel shaky and he literally cant move his feet. his eyes flick between the street and remus' sadistic cocky smirk.

"whats wrong baby bro? you stuck or something?" remus leers with that stupid stupid smirk

and roman HATES him so so much

"ro, what's the matter?" jamal asks

"i- um," roman stutters, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much at the sight of his friends just having DISAPPEARED into the darkness - how are they okay with that?? "i- im not hungry"

"okay well i am, and remus said it was a shortcut anyway so-"

"i-i -- no i can't"

seraphina, romans best friend, looks back and notices whats happening and quickly jogs over (knowing roman is scared of the dark) "hey roma, it's okay we dont have to go down there" she soothes

jamal is supportive but he doesnt get it. he thinks roman is scared of criminals or smth. "i promise theres no one bad down there, hun. and i'll be right next to you the whole time, i'll protect you" and he smiles and tugs romans hand to pull him towards the side street

romans eyes quickly tear up and he panics and rambles "nononono dont please please i cant i cant" in a broken voice and plants his feet firmly on the ground, paralysed with fear

remus starts cackling "ohhhhh thats right~" as if he just remembered. "my baby brother's terrified of the dark, isn't he?"

"f*ck off, re" sera barks, standing between the twins, protective of roman

"wait, are you?" jamal asks sounding surprised. roman doesnt let himself look at him, too busy watching remus warily and knowing thats not all he has planned to embarrass roman

remus goes on, shouting out to jamal over sera's head "he's petrified!" he confirms sounding delighted. "yknow that massive blackout last summer? he cried like a baby. literally sobbing for his daddy patton to make it go away"

theres a brief silence because no, sera and jamal didnt expect remus to refer to patton as romans daddy - they both know roman calls him dad but this is a surprise.

and that one second of silence drags on for ages for roman, all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears and remus' obnoxious laughter

he is shaking, frozen in shock rather than fear now. for all of remus' teasing threats at home, he didnt expect remus to actually do it. hes devastated and humiliated that remus told to his best friend and especially his BOYFRIEND of all ppl

and honestly he's not even thinking about the pitch black side street right now because the streetlights on the main road are blurred by tears welling in his eyes anyway

"why dont you just leave him alone!" sera hisses furiously after her mild shock

then jamal bounces back rlly stern to remus "yeah i already know about that! roman told me and it was HIS choice to tell me"

roman stares at him in disbelief but jamal is too busy staring daggers at remus to notice

remus looks suddenly offended and frowns. hes clearly hurt that the others dont think its funny "jeez youre both such bores. im just having some fun"

"youre demented if you think thats fun" seraphina growls and shoves remus away towards the sidestreet. remus rolls his eyes and runs ahead to join the others who are all oblivious to that coversation, howling with drunken laughter in the pitch black and jumping out and scaring each other

"f*cking prick" jamal calls after remus, seething

sera quickly throws a concerned look to roman "you okay?"

roman just swallows thickly and looks between seraphina and where he saw remus join the others in the pitch black. his stomach churns at the idea of remus telling more people. "i-is he gonna--"

"im on it" sera nods and starts turning around "i wont let him tell anyone else, roma, promise" then she runs ahead to keep an eye on remus and to give him and jamal some privacy

after a moment jamal turns back to roman looking so worried and holds his hands and asks very gently "babe, can you tell me how youre feeling?"

and roman is teary but he whispers "i - you stuck up for me"

jamal looks suddenly sad and cups romans cheek "of course i did"

"but you said i told you about it. i- i didnt tell you that i-" roman gulps after his voice wobbles "i didnt tell you about it"

and jamal smiles sadly and goes "i know babe... im sorry, i just didnt wanna give him any more power. it seemed like he's held that over you for a while"

suddenly the tears in romans eyes overspill and he doesnt really know why but he can't stop them

jama gasps a little "oh roman, its ok" and just pulls him into a tight hug

roman clings and sniffles, glad that he can hide his tears from his boyfriend even if it is in his neck.

and jamal just strokes his back and whispers "its ok baby, its ok" **

they talk about it quietly as they take the longer, well-lit route instead. roman admits he would never have told jamal abt his fear on his own - and the reason he's been avoiding staying overnight at jamals apartment is bc the one time he did he got so scared of the dark that he couldnt sleep and was just anxious all night but wouldnt wake jamal to tell him

after jamal finds out hes like baby why didnt u tell me its okay and comforts him about it not being embarrassing or childish. then:

"so you do actually want to stay at mine, its just because its so dark that you didnt?"

roman nods shyly "yeah... im sorry i know its a dumb fear i just-"

"its not dumb ro. i meant to say if it works for you, we could leave the hall light on and the door open. its not like i live with anyone who can walk in."

roman blinks "wait you - really? it wont make it hard for you to sleep?"

jamal smiles softly "no hun, honestly i could sleep anywhere. i fell asleep in the middle of the day in the staffroom just last month"

roman laughs, so so so relieved

"so... maybe next time you come over for dinner you could stay the night, yeah?" jamal says with a smile and a blush. he wraps his arm around romans waist and pulls him in, hip to hip

roman bites his lip and blushes. after a moment he suggests shyly "im free tonight..."

and jamal smiles so big, stops walking and puts his arm up to romans chest to stop him too then angles romans jaw down to kiss him

in the near future jamal promises to buy a plain nightlight and always leaves it on for roman when he stays overnight from then on

**side note: roman could never stand anyone calling him baby before because he felt infantilised at school becaus of his undiagnosed adhd. so he sees it as a derogatory name more than anything. but when jamal says it roman feels so warm and respected because he knows jamal would never mean it in that way. so jamal has "baby" rights basically

[nny11writes]

You’re recent fic killed me!- could we have rex comforting ahsoka after a mission goes wrong? Maybe obi-wan and anakin are injured bc of a miscommunication by her

Alright, have some additional Declarations! 

This should still make sense without having read the full fic, but it certainly provides more background to this moment. And, also, Anakin is referring to that chapter I’ve been wishy washy about posting where the two of them FINALLY talk a bit and start figuring out how to communicate better. He is a good man doing his damn best, but Anakin is all about extremes.

“Alright kid, time to stop sulking.” Rex sighed heavily as he leaned against the bulkhead. It wasn’t like he knew where Ahsoka was hiding specifically but he’d narrowed it down to this room in particular. Stars, he hoped she wasn’t in the vents, they’d have to find the lankiest of them and force the poor sod up in after her.

His comm blinked on silently and looking down he could see Ahsoka sent him a message.

Not.

His whole body felt too heavy for a moment before he spoke aloud for her benefit. “No. No, I know you aren’t.”

He didn’t get another message and she didn’t climb down though.

Rex had to remember to thank Cody some time for the heads up on togruta. Obi-Wan had apparently gone half insane researching before that all blew up in his face, but the knowledge that she would be very quiet and make herself very small and might even hide away was the only thing that had stopped him from panicking when she was still missing. They were technically on shore leave and could do whatever they wished, sure, and Anakin had apparently told her to just take some time to stabilize.

“She’ll come back when she’s ready, and she’ll be ready sooner than you think.” Anakin had said with the strangest cross between a determined frown and a watery smile.

“Huh, who are you and what did you do with my General?” Rex had chuckled half confused before Anakin laughed.

“Yeah, well, we talked a bit after the whole…” Anakin waved his hands vaguely, but somehow Rex was sure he meant Grievous and Goldie. “Boundaries.”

Unsure what else he could do, Rex cracked another terrible joke. “Well, look at you. Rather big of you sir, I think you might be maturing.”

Anakin stuck his tongue out at him and really that said all he needed to about that.

But that conversation had been nearly three rotations ago, and Rex had a sinking feeling that Skywalker was doing his best without knowing what Ahsoka actually needed. Not that he thought he really knew either, honestly no one could know except for Ahsoka what she really needed. The first set of casualties under orders were always the hardest.

He stared at his comm until the backlight powered down before trying again, “Come on then little un, you know no one’s upset with you, so why are you hiding? Give me a good reason and I swear I’ll leave you and the K rations I snuck here alone.”

It took another long minute before his comm lit up again.

Fine.

He winced but did his best to put his new mental shielding in place. He didn’t want her assuming his upset was with her after all. There was some soft rustling that bounced around the storage bay and then Ahsoka dropped from the ceiling scaring him half to death. At any other time she would’ve been laughing at him, and the fact that she instead just walked over to him with her head down before curling up on the floor was…

Rex slowly slid down next to her and held out the ration and hydration cylinder for her. It took a small prompting with his free hand before she took them and mostly picked at them. He rather she have the fuel and option to consume it than not. 

“Would it be better if I wrote with you?” Rex asked, lifting his wrist with the comm.

There was a pause before she shook her head, and finally, blessedly, finally took a bite of food. Far as he knew the first food she’d had in over a full rotation.

“Alright.” He slowly, carefully put his arm around her shoulders, waiting for anything to cue him into stopping. “Is it okay if I stay here with you for a bit?”

A shrug, but at least she pulled out her comm again.

Okay.

“Then I think I’ll take a sit for a bit, yeah?” He squeezed her as gently as possible, and almost pulled away when she shuddered only for her hand to desperately catch his wrist and pull him against her more firmly. Message received Commander. “You know, General Kenobi called today and was asking after you. You want the updates sir?”

She started shaking in lieu of writing so he squeezed her tightly again. There were a few painful sounding gasps before she weakly asked, “Is he okay?”

Her raspy, absolutely wrecked voice was the best thing he’d ever heard.

“Kenobi reported that he was fighting fit, and Cody reported that he was released with light exercise restrictions for a week before actually being ready to slash some clankers.” He paused as she gave a small half huff, half sniffle. He’d take it. “But yeah, he’s perfectly fine.”

Ahsoka nodded before taking another, smaller bite of the ration bar. He could feel her lek twitch under his arm and quickly scanned her to make sure she wasn’t about to vomit all over herself. Probably the only thing that could make her feel even worse at the moment. But instead she simply put the ration away in a belt pouch and typed into her comm.

Men?

“Will be right in no time. Sinker is out of bacta as well and already back on the front.” He’d hoped she’d perk up at that, but instead she almost melted down. “Hey, that’s a good thing!”

There was another series of pitiful sounding gasps, but this time she didn’t speak instead she leaned further into him and reached for his wrist again.

“You don’t have to speak if you’re not up for it.” Rex whispered, knowing she’d hear him just fine and more concerned that she was going to force herself into something that would make her feel worse.

He’d had a batchmate like that, CT-8532, didn’t make it far enough to get his own name, but Three Two had always been more sensitive than them. A lot of the time it had benefited them as a squad, after all, Three Two could hear electricity so he could often tell if there was a pack of droids around the corner or not. But sometimes when he got too angry he’d go from screaming and crying to dead silent. And each time the trainers forced him to speak, it only made it worse. 

He’d made it off Kamino only to die with the rest of his squad on Geonosis.

What he’d give to listen to Three Two humming absentmindedly again…

“I know it’s already been said, but it wasn’t your fault. Orders were unclear and you did your best.”

Ahsoka went still and air hissed from between her teeth, and it broke his damn heart to hear.

“They were. They completely skipped vital info that-”

Ahsoka shook her head violently before ripping her hand away to type on her comm.

Obvious. 

Should’ve known.

Rex held in another sigh and made sure his shields were hiding his frustration before speaking. “No, it was incomplete orders sir. They sent you incomplete orders and incomplete information. Just because you can see the connections now, doesn’t mean it was obvious.”

Ahsoka curled up, hands going to cover her montrals as she went quiet again. 

He took the hint and shut his mouth, and instead sat with her quietly until he realized she’d fallen asleep at some point. Probably hadn’t been sleeping much, he’d wager money on it if he was allowed to have any. As carefully as he could, he scooped up his Commander and carried her quickly to her quarters. Doing his best to avoid and dodge anyone else to save her a little face. But once he’d gotten her into bed and gotten her a glass of water, he still sat down on the floor by her bunk.

She only woke a few times, but each time he reached up and squeezed her hand tightly, and each time she went back to sleep.

And that was a start. That was a good start.

[gunbrker]

i need a place to organize my thoughts on thancred so i will be posting this on here! take it as a meta dump or headcanons of sort that’re definitely going to be implemented into my portrayal. this is gonna be a bit messy so excuse any jumping around!

ARR thancred and HW ( and on ) thancred are both two different characters. this is something i want to set as a precedent for the next few hcs, bc i’ve been thinking a lot about the way he presents himself in ARR vs the later expansions, and i’m going to try and explain why and how they’re different, per my own perception of course.

ARR thancred has a different speech pattern from HW thancred. it’s more flowery. it’s more poetic. each line of dialogue is diligently woven, pleasant to the ears, exactly the type of thing he’d want to make others hear. it’s disingenuous. it’s a mask. it’s all to obtain information or seek some sort of gratification in escapades or flings that serve as him utilizing his own charm/silver tongue to obtain what he needs. information for the scions’ advantage, or just for nothing more than that, sexual gratification, something i’ll talk about later. what’s important to note here is that, through all of ARR, thancred has been accepted as the flirty womanizer who hits on any woman near his vicinity ( for the purposes of my portrayal, this is strictly exclusive to any woman that is not a lalafell. 1.0 shows him doing exactly that and i refuse to integrate it into my writing ). examples of such poetic lines he has, especially with regards to women, can be found below:

naturally, HW thancred is different from all of this. whereas ARR thancred is far more charismatic, flirtatious, and poetic with every line, HW thancred is, for lack of better word, a lot more blunt. this specifically becomes more apparent after patch 3.1. his lines of dialogue don’t have that glimmer anymore, each rose colored word is gone and replaced by dialogue that has him being more straightforward and forsaking any previous notions that identified him as a flirtatious character. one could surely say, well it’s because he isn’t flirting with people anymore, and while that’s definitely a part of it, i like to think it’s more than just him not flirting with people anymore. it’s because minfilia’s gone. it’s because he failed. i’ll touch on this more later on this post, bc i just want to focus on here that he’s more blunt because of the fact he’s dealing with his own grief. he’s a lot more standoffish, he becomes distant and it becomes difficult to tell if he and ARR thancred were the same characters. they are, of course! but both act drastically different because one still had what he was intending to protect, whereas the other had failed in his duty.

with that being said, i do want to expand on this idea that ARR thancred, despite being different from HW thancred, still deals with his own guilt from robbing minfilia of her only family, her father. it’s something that has followed him for a very long time, something that creeps around his mind and he doesn’t want to think about it. this is further supported by ShB thancred imparting to you that he practically threw himself into his work to become every dunkard’s best friend for information. in ARR, he was dealing with that guilt by being a workaholic. he flirted with women at times, not just for information, but because he wanted a high that alcohol couldn’t grant him. that is to say, both working endlessly and having multiple flings is what allowed him to move forward. it was his unhealthy coping mechanisms, ones that distracted his thoughts from wandering towards his guilt. it’s far more subtle to tell when his mask has been so reinforced, one could easily believe there’s nothing but a charming man before your very eyes.

i want to embrace the tragedy of thancred’s character the most, since i feel like these parts make up for the type of character he is. a man from bitter beginnings that has suffered greatly, lost what he’s held dear, attempting to sort out that grief he holds to move forward. this is why i will be holding his past as a street urchin dear, as he truly came from nothing. he had no family at first, the very meaning of the word was alien to him, as both his parents passed away. louisoix and minfilia, i’d say, are the closest people thancred considers family. while i do believe it’s difficult for him to create emotional bonds with those outside of the scions, i do firmly hold the belief that thancred’s appreciation of the scions and his bonds with them greatly increases after the end of ARR. 

i emphasize this a lot in my threads; thancred, after being separated from the wol and the other scions, will come to greatly care for them and see them more as mere companions/work buddies. this is before he’s aware of minfilia’s fate, however. he intends to maintain some emotional distance from the others after discovering what happened to her. it’s hard for him to convey how he’s feeling. he’s severely distressed by his failure and it’s indubitably affected how he interacts with others. he will not easily open up about how he feels. he doesn’t feel comfortable. it’s difficult. it’s hard being that vulnerable when the one thing he promised himself he’d do right went horribly wrong. this is why i choose to portray him with this veneer that’re nothing more but the vestiges of ARR thancred: the faux smiles, the half-hearted poetry he spouts that may be aggravating to others, these little gestures that are reminiscent of who he was as you once knew him. that’s all a ruse he dons to reassure others that nothing is wrong, that he’s fine, even if he truly isn’t.

thancred, i believe, shifts his unhealthy coping mechanics a bit here. from this tragedy, he chooses to fixate on drinking, working, and fighting. 

no drink can truly numb how he feels permanently, but he would rather try and drink anything that can intoxicate him enough to forget the past for a moment. no matter how transient, a moment where he can experience that high is far better than drowning in his own thoughts. this is intrinsically tied with fighting.

fighting with others becomes customary for him, it’s likely to happen in any tavern he comes across. he always escapes before he can be found, but it serves no purpose than to seek that high; nevertheless, it’s integral to mention he will avoid picking fights with those he holds dear even in an intoxicated state. needless conflict with those he cherishes would only make him feel worse than he’s already feeling.

there is a fair reason he maintains a safe distance from them, which becomes especially evident with how much he pushes himself into his work after he loses minfilia. thancred does not rest a lot, you’re more likely to find him with heavy bags under his eye that’re begging him to go to sleep. he’ll insist he’s fine, even if you were to try and pry him away from it, he’d obstinately refuse out of sheer desire to keep working. even if it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism and he’s aware of it, it’s the only thing he can fathom to not think about each mistake he’s committed.

 this is not to say that thancred will be an exclusively tragic character that you’re meant to feel bad for at all times. he is a layered character that is more than just what’s deeply impacted him negatively. he still appreciates those moments where he can give a bonafide grin and simply joke around with someone, those moments that’re a nice respite from the chaotic reality he lives in. even if his life is messy as hell, he still wants to try and partake in any moment he could truly love. thancred may deem himself a failure in his own eyes, but he will continue to try and live each day to the fullest, to be content with himself and with the bonds he has. to protect what he does still have. even if it’s a thorny, difficult road that’s filled with hurt, loss, and regret, he’ll traverse through it if it means protecting what’s still here. what he still loves dearly.

thancred doesn’t accept feet pics from anyone

he loves to take advantage of his height when he’s taller next to someone. needless to say, the 5′9″ manlet is not too content being shorter when he’s in a relationship but oh well!

anyway i’m so sorry for this being super fucking messy but i don’t have any thoughts and i. i don’t know if this shit is either common knowledge or me being melodramatic, but thancred is kinda fucked up and messy and i love him.

[thisstableground]

2, 6, 14, 24 and 29 for Vansnavi; 10, 3, 26 for Vanessa/Ruben, and 7, 16, 25 and 27 for the trio? :o)

usnavi/vanessa

2. Who is the big spoon/Who is the little spoon?

has there ever, ever beenany question that usnavi is a little spoon? look at the man. it has a sort of weighted blanket effect on him and helps him wind down. vanessa doesn’tmind a bit of little-spooning as a post-coital cuddle but she can’t standsleeping that way, it makes her feel too claustrophobic. it actually takes thema while to figure this out though because of Gendered Assumptions andusnavi being too embarrassed to admit he just wants someone to cuddle him veryfirmly bc he likes feeling Small and Compact and Loved, but they both sleepmuch better once they do.

6. Who would have reallydeep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ Who would have them in themiddle of the day?

vanessa is dead to thegoddamn world at night and has her deep thoughts in the brightness of the daywhen she’s at full power and wanting everything fiercely and intensely and readyto go get it. usnavi is too busy to process any feelings properly untilnighttime when he tends to get overamped and understimulated by the quiet andis prone to bouts of insomniac thinking in circles.

14. Who kills the spiders?

neither of them. usnavigets all creeped out by them and vanessa scoffs and rolls her eyes like “god i’llget it then, you giant baby” but she won’t actually go near them herself, shevacuums them up, so usnavi always ends up getting it in a cup before she canbecause he has this intense fear that if she does it might lay eggs inside thevacuum cleaner and the next time they use it it’ll just spit out a thousandtiny spiders all over the apartment and then both of them will have to die immediately

24. Who is the talker/ Whois the listener?

usnavi is the talker, forthe most part, to nobody’s surprise! vanessa sometimes feels like she isn’tcontributing as much bc in her mind usnavi is also a better listener than her,bc even though he’s a chatterbox he pays such close attention on the times shedoes talk about serious stuff. but usnavi thinks that vanessa never, ever gives himthat look that some people give him where it’s like “what the fuck are you onabout?”, the one that makes him feel like he’s babbling stupidly, because evenwhen she’s teasing him or when he actually is talking absolute nonsense she still always makes sure to listen to him.

29. Who is the better cook?

vanessa. neither of themare amazing, to be honest – both make like, forgettably decent food, butvanessa’s tends to at least have more components and more effort put in. ithink that vanessa never really had much in the way of nice family meals - she mostly fed herself even as a very young kid - and when she’s older develops a sortof weirdly aggressive and vengeful self-care attitude. so her mom doesn’t careabout her, so fucking what? she’ll care about herself. she’ll make herself a nice dinner even though she’sthe only one who’ll appreciate the effort. she doesn’t need anyone else. usnavi has the exactopposite attitude:he has actually been taught how to cook by his parents and abuela, butif he’s the only one he’s cooking for, what’s the point inmaking an effort? the only time he really tries is when he’s cooking for him and sonny, and even then he just doesn’t haveany spare mental energy left to make it really good because cooking is exhausting. he isn’t terrible at it.it’s just like, yeah, this food is fine.

vanessa/ruben

10. Who likes sweet/ Who likessour?

i actually think both ofthem have a bit of a sweet tooth. they both like little pastries and bakedtreats and sugary starbucks mocha whatevers that they keep Very Much A Secretfrom usnavi. that said, i also think that vanessa is the one who grew up with alot more of the kind of mexican candy that is sold in the bodega, the stuffthat’s spicy-sour-sweet-salty all at once but definitely leaning harder towardssour.and ruben is the one who prefersall his alcoholic drinks fruity and sweet and sugary.

3. Who hogs the cover/ Wholoves to cuddle?

vanessa rolls herself up in a lil vanessa burrito while she sleeps andmaintains an unbreakable grip on the sheets that ruben doesn’t have the heart to trytoo hard to break, so he goes and gets another blanket and then wakes up anhour later realising that she has stolen this one too. (but when ruben has anightmare then vanessa gives up all the covers to wrap him up so that he issafe and covered up)

they both love to cuddle but also have limits –they’re actually far more likely to cuddle for a bit while awake then fallasleep just holding hands to give each other a little bit more breathing room.

26. Who likes to eathealthy/ Who loves junk food?

they’re both asimilar level of fairly healthy but not overly invested in diet. they get a decentamount of vegetables. vanessa is definitely a snacker and also eats nutelladirectly out of the jar more than a grown adult probably should, but rarely misses proper meals. ruben eatsmore healthy in general but when he’s working on a project he’ll eat likegarbage and drink a thousand cups of coffee.

trio

7. Who sweats the smallstuff?

rubeeeeen. oh my, soruben. even this far into the relationship there’s a lot of “are they mad at me? i think vanessa isblinking in a way that means she’s mad. i forgot to close the door on the wayinto the living room and i just shut it now but Will We All Die? Probably!! And it will be my fault!!!!”.usnavi sometimes does too but that tends to be more as part of an anxietyspiral down one path that gets more specific and detailed the longer it goeson, whereas ruben is just a constant level of small stuff being sweated.

16. Who is scared ofthunderstorms?

ruben again. it annoys thehell out of him because it’s always half Logic Brain being like “it’s just afucking thunderstorm it poses no danger to me” and he actually quite likesheavy rain sans storm, but there’s half PTSD Brain just being right on edge becauseLoud Noise = Danger, and if it’s a really bad day then the rolling of thunderturns very easily into the sound of a plane’s engines and it’s all downhillfrom there.

25. Who wears the otherones clothes?

they all wear each othersclothes. ruben’s sweaters are for vanessa when she doesn’t want to admit she’sfeeling vulnerable and needs the comfort, rubens good-quality boxer briefs solvea sensory discomfort that usnavi did not realise he had been having for years.usnavi’s big baggy t-shirts are vanessa’s pajamas (she switches out for adifferent one once it stops smelling like him). usnavi’s hat goes on ruben’shead during bad panic attacks as a physical comfort without actual physical contact. rubenlikes vanessa’s cheap, tight lazy-day tshirts as a makeshift sort of pressure vest.usnavi likes vanessa’s yoga pants because they make his legs look good.

27. Who takes a longshower/ Who sings in the shower?

vanessa on the whole takesthe longest showers. look at how much hair she has. she is part yeti. it takesso long just to get it all wet. there’s so much of it. she sheds everywhere inthe shower and its maybe the one cleaning related thing that usnavi gets pissyabout. ruben takes the second longest in general because he has most of his bigscientific revelations in the shower and also bc he shaves his downstairs zoneso, yknow, thats not an activity to be rushed (though on bad days he has short showers or doesn’t shower at all bc too triggering). usnavi is either the quickest bya very long way or, depending on how into whatever album he’s listening towhile he’s in there, could be a full hour, because he is absolutely the one whosings in the shower.

[alteridolriley]

Life Gets Sweeter: Meeting

Hello everyone! Welcome to the first written installment of the Sanders Sides bakery AU!!! Hope you all enjoy! Please be sure to read the warnings/triggers and protect yourself. Hope you all enjoy! Please also check out the character designs on my cocreator's @availe blog!! They're beautiful designs!!! NOTE: This series is not told in any specific order. Consider this just a random entry! <3

Pairings: Eventual romantic Moxiety/Logince, platonic Royality/Analogical/Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: (This is for the series as a whole, not just this entry) suicidal thoughts/actions, depression, anxiety, blood, Deceit mention/sympathetic Deceit, homophobia/transphobia, weapons, nightmares, burning, cursing (to be added onto possibly)

People who might be interested: @mirror2thespirit, @andy-the-anon, @shadowjag, @randomslasher (bc moxiety), @justanotherpurplebutterfly, @sanders-trash-4ever

It was a dark, gloomy, and otherwise sad day.

Virgil Sanders laid on his mattress, covered with a rather thin blanket. The pillow under his head may as well be nonexistent as most of the stuffing had fallen out. Dark purple curtains hid the early evening sunset from the room. The clouds had parted later during that afternoon, letting some sun peek through, but Virgil had closed the curtains.

With little effort, Virgil sat up and let the blanket fall to the floor. His mattress was thin and without a bed frame, it was rather uncomfortable. The thin man stood and pulled on his jean & purple hoodie, covering his head with the hood. He stared at the next to empty kitchen across from him, discarded books, paper, pens and such laying all over the nearby dining room table.

His stomach grumbled as his gaze passed over the fridge. How long had it been since he ate? Virgil couldn't honestly remember. He had no money. What little he had usually went to his rent. It wasn't as if he felt like eating anyway.

Virgil ran his right hand through his hair, ignoring his burning skin under his bandages. He pulled his sleeve down tight to hide them. Was he ashamed of the bandages or the fact he had failed? Virgil shrugged to himself before grabbing his keys and his cell phone, leaving his apartment.

Leftover snow blanketed the neighborhood and all was silent. Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets and walked. There was no specific destination until he spotted the bridge to his right which was the bridge that led back into town. Virgil sighed, turning on his heel and headed towards it.

As he waited at a crossroads and cars passed in front of him, he contemplated just walking in front of one of them. But then again, Virgil didn't want someone else to bear his burden. After the traffic had passed, Virgil crossed and stepped up the slope to the bridge. With every step, the air became colder. Virgil began to be able to hear the water below sloshing and lapping in the wind. Once he reached the middle of the bridge he sat down, dangling his legs over the edge.

How many times had he come here? Virgil had lost count. But there was one thing he knew. This was the last time.

College, work, family, life... it had all became just too much. Not that anyone would miss him if he was gone. His parents and brother had stopped trying to call since Virgil never answered. His boss at work was just an asshole. Who gave a fuck about him anyways? Same with his teachers in college. Their interpretations of works was wrong and fuck them too.

Virgil grabbed onto the metal frame just above his head and squeezed tightly.

Is it cold? Of course it is you idiot.

Will it hurt? Of course it will you idiot.

But it'll end. Everything would. And that was the whole point of it all.

Virgil took in a breath through his nose and out his mouth. Why the absolute fuck was he scared?

Just do it you goddamn coward. Just do it. Doitdoitdoitdoit-

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice startled Virgil so much he slammed the top of his head onto the beam. "Motherfuc-" he covered the pain with his hands, biting his lip.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" The voice spoke again. Within a second, a person was leaning down next to Virgil. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

Virgil turned to see a man sitting down next to him. He had a rather thin frame but a bit of a tummy. Black thin rimmed glasses covered his bright blue eyes. In his hands was a bright pink box with a decorative label that read 'Patton's Pastries & Sweets'. The man dangled his own legs over the side and proceeded to try and open the box in his hands. It revealed 6 donuts inside: chocolate, powdered, and one that was pink- strawberry? Virgil tried his best to ignore the rumbled his stomach made. He had never smelled such delicious donuts in his life.

"Would you like one?" The man asked, holding the box out. "Feel free! I give them away to everyone in town." He held the box out towards Virgil but Virgil pushed it back towards him.

"No, I'm fine." Virgil said firmly with a bit more anger than he intended.

"Are you sure? They're really delicious, if I do say so myself!" The man said cheerfully. He didn't seem bothered by Virgil's retort. "I say that because I made them!" He flipped over the lid, pointing at the name. "That's me! I'm Patton. You are?"

Virgil scratched the back of his neck, turning his gaze from Patton away and back to the flowing river under them. "I'm... I'm Virgil." Virgil finally mumbled, biting his lip.

"Virgil?" Patton repeated. A smile reaching from ear to ear formed on his face. "Wow that's such a cool name! Wish I had thought of that." Virgil raised an eyebrow as he turned back to Patton. "Anyway! Let's go! It's really cold out here." Patton sat the donuts down on the bridge and pulled himself up. He then offered his hand to Virgil. "Come on?"

Virgil looked from Patton's hand and then to the water and back up into Patton's deep blue eyes. They looked just like the water below. But instead of cold, they somehow looked like a nice warm bath rather than a cold dark death below the bridge. Virgil released a deep sigh and took Patton's hand, standing up. He could always come back to the bridge tomorrow.

"Also, Virgil, I must insist!" Patton leaned over and picked up the donuts. "I rather not eat all of these by myself."

Patton smiled brightly and Virgil honestly began to wonder how Patton stayed so happy. But Virgil knew he rather not be the one to cause Patton's smile to disappear. So he reached and took one of the chocolate ones, taking a small bite out of the side. For just a brief moment, Virgil felt a very happy sensation as the chocolate and sugar danced in his mouth. This was easily the best donut he had ever tasted.

"You like it?!" Patton asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. Virgil simply nodded and took another bite to prove it. Patton squealed happily.

The two of them walked down the bridge and back into the suburb area. Without realizing, Virgil subconsciously walked back towards his apartment while talking with Patton. To be fair, Patton did most of the talking while Virgil ate another donut. When Virgil stopped in front of his apartment complex, Patton peeked behind him.

"Oh do you live here?" Patton asked. Virgil nodded. "Oh okay! Well you get inside to warm up. I think I'll head home too actually. Have a good night Virgil!" Patton waved and flashed another smile.

As Virgil let himself inside the house, he realized Patton hadn't walked away yet. Once he turned to shut the door, the man gave him another quick closed eye smile and then turned to leave. Virgil pushed the door closed and locked it. He looked down at the half eaten second donut in his hand.

If it wasn't for the donut he truly could believe that this had all been a dream.

Virgil awoke abruptly, his head pounding and his heart racing.

Where was he? What happened?

Somehow Virgil had found his way onto his futon, cuddled in his old patchwork hoodie and a galaxy print blanket. He reached into his pocket for his phone but found nothing. Scrambling to get uncovered from the blanket, he heard a soft thump. His cell phone lay faceup and lit up brightly, cutting through the darkness. Virgil wiped his eyes as he grabbed the phone and blinked upon reading the screen.

"The 31st? Wait wait wait... wasn't it the 29th when I came home?" Virgil mumbled to himself before it came back to him as he eyed a dried out half donut sitting on the coffee table in front of him. "Oh my God did I sleep for two fucking days?"

Virgil forced himself up, feeling his brain go hazy and his vision flicker. A chill was sent down his spine as the blanket fell from his shoulders. He pulled the old hoodie off of his shoulders and then pulled his jean purple hoodie back on and grabbed his keys and cellphone, heading out the door.

The chill of the early January morning greeted him. Virgil pulled his hood over his head. He ignored the gnawing at his stomach and the light headedness he was feeling. Virgil only had one destination in mind. Patton. Most specifically, Patton's bakery. Virgil tried to remember the address on the top of the box under the logo. He had stared at it for so long but for some reason, it hadn't committed to memory.

"I think it said East 8th Street..." Virgil mumbled as he walked across the iron bridge. He didn't even so much as stop to look down. "I think 8th street starts at the second street at the end of the bridge and east is towards the high school..."

Virgil walked slowly and scooted his feet against the faded asphalt, hugging his stomach tightly. His vision was blurry and inaccurate but he was able to find his way slowly but surely to 8th street by way of a convenient restaurant on the corner aptly named "8th Street Cooking".

As Virgil walked along the sidewalk, he realized just how early in the day it was. He glanced at his basically dead cellphone. 3:49am looked back at him and his teeth chattered. What the absolute hell was he doing right now? Would Patton even be there? Did Patton even exist?

"No, he does exist. The donut is sitting in my apartment. Patton's real. He gave it to me. I just wanna see him again." Virgil spoke to himself as a wave of nausea and tiredness threatened to consume him.

Virgil tried his best to focus and continue walking but it was to no avail. His pain and fatigue got the best of him as he collapsed into a doorway, falling inside of a random building, losing consciousness.

Patton whistled while he worked in the back of the bakery. He had always been a morning person for the most part. Besides it was always quiet and gave him time to think and get things done before the hustle and bustle of the customers during breakfast.

Patton tied his navy blue apron around his back and set to work. He rolled the donuts perfectly, creating a few sheets in seconds, along with extra donut holes to sell on the side. From the fridge, Patton pulled out premade cookies, pastries, and other assorted treats which were prepared by his employees the day before. As he placed them in the large oven, the bell of the customer entrance rang out. Patton felt himself smile. It was pretty early so he was surprised to hear the bell, but maybe that meant it was someone new!

"I'll be right there!" Patton called out, grabbing a towel.

He walked through the door towards the front, seeing the door propped open by something. The wind from the early morning blew in fiercely.

"What..." Patton said as he walked around the counter, suddenly seeing a person had fallen inside his doorway and wasn't moving. "Oh my goodness!" He said worriedly, dropping the towel in his hand. He ran to the collapsed man and flipped him over. After getting a good look at his face, a realization washed over. "Virgil...?" Patton murmured, pulling him fully inside the building. Patton reached up to lock the door and flip the lights off in one swift motion. "Virgil, kiddo, can you hear me?" He asked, holding Virgil as gently as he could. The man was frozen to the core and his teeth chattered. His eyes were open slightly but he was unresponsive.

Patton looked back and forth, taking deep breaths. He had to get Virgil warmed up. He gently put his arm behind Virgil's back and his other arm under Virgil's legs. Taking a deep breath, Patton lifted the man, surprised at how light he was. He didn't feel any heavier than the largest sack of flour Patton normally purchased. Patton safely carried Virgil to the back of the store to the break room and laid him down carefully on the couch. He pulled some blankets out of the closet and covered him, tucking him in. As Patton fluffed the pillow, Virgil's eyes opened slowly and blinked as the man groaned.

"Where... am I?" Virgil asked, his voice scratchy. He blinked several times before his vision cleared. "Patton?"

"Yeah. How are you feeling?" Patton pulled a chair over to the couch and he sat down. He had so many more questions but he didn't want to overload Virgil too much.

Virgil shrugged. He leaned back and pushed his bangs out of his face. “How did I get here? What happened this morning?” Virgil said aloud. They weren’t really questions, mostly just confusion. “Wait, I think I remember waking up and realizing it had been like two days.”

“You slept for two whole days?” Patton said incredulously as his eyes widened. “Then when’s the last time you ate?”

Virgil didn’t make eye contact but murmured softly, “…donuts…”

Patton covered his mouth in surprise. “My goodness, Virgil, if you haven’t eaten since I gave you the donuts and you were outside this morning… it’s no wonder you lost consciousness.”

Patton bit his lip before turning to the kitchenette behind him. He stood up and walked over to the fridge, pulling out batter, eggs, bacon, and a random assortment of breakfast foods.

Within a few minutes, Patton had a fully cooked breakfast for himself and for Virgil. The boy was so small. He needed a nice, home-cooked meal. Patton turned to sew Virgil staring off into space and sat the plates down at the table before walking over to him. After standing in front of Virgil for a moment, Virgil finally looked up at him. Patton simply held his hand out and smiled. Virgil blinked and saw the same sight from the other day in his mind. The moment on the bridge when Patton offered his hand. Virgil took the hand before he realized it and Patton hoisted him up slowly. The baker guided him to the table, not letting go of his hand until Virgil had sat down.

“Do you like milk? Or maybe orange juice?” Patton asked.

“Um, what about apple juice?” Virgil asked sheepishly.

Patton grinned. “I gotcha, kiddo. No worries.” He winked and pulled a small container of apple juice from the fridge. He poured a glass and returned to the table with his own drink and Virgil’s.

As Virgil slowly ate, the food tasting so marvelous he wanted to savor each bite, he felt a sensation building up in his chest. It surrounded his heart, flowing down his arms and into his fingertips. Before he even realized it, he saw drips land on his napkin.

“Oh Virgil…” Patton said softly. “Are you okay?”

Virgil quickly wiped the tears away and continued to eat. “Mhmhmm… sorry.”

Patton shook his head. “No need to be sorry. Just eat up.” He reassured.

Virgil nodded and did as he was told. He couldn’t remember a meal more delicious in his life. Even though it had been made with relative ease, it seemed Patton had put all of his love for cooking into each dish. The eggs were perfectly scrambled and seasoned; bacon burned just a bit more than usual to add extra crunch; the pancakes a beautiful golden brown color and so fluffy. Virgil wasn’t sure if he deserved to eat such nice food, but he wasn’t going to go against Patton.

As the two finished up, Patton began talking about how he needed to open the bakery back up since he had closed it upon finding Virgil. Virgil opened his mouth to apologize but Patton shh-ed him immediately and began to clean up the table. Virgil bit his lip and followed suit. Together, they cleaned the dishes and the table. Virgil glanced up at the clock and it was just nearly 6am. Suddenly a yawn caught him off guard. How was it possible he was still tired?

“You should rest.” Patton chided, pushing him towards the couch. Virgil sat but Patton forced him to lay down. “Passing out isn’t normal so you should take better care of yourself.” Patton was right, of course. So Virgil covered himself in a blanket as Patton left the room. He turned off two rows of lights as he exited. “I’ll be back after we close up. Get some sleep, okay?” Patton’s voice was soft and calm. He smiled gently. Virgil was asleep again before the door closed.

Virgil awoke again to a soft, tapping sound. He peeked to see Patton typing on a calculator with one hand and writing something down with his left. Virgil scrunched his eyes closed tightly before stretching which caught Patton’s attention.

“Good afternoon.” Patton said warmly. “You must’ve been really exhausted to sleep as long as you did.”

Virgil shrugged as he sat up straight and glanced at the clock on the wall. 3:34pm. He turned back to see Patton still adding up something.

“Are you-” Virgil stopped, his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat as Patton giggled, holding an unopened bottle of water towards him. Virgil graciously took it and chugged half. “-already counting your business for the day?”

Patton mhmmed and took a drink of his own water. “Yeah, my bakery is only open for the morning hours. I have to have time to bake and such and most of my employees either can’t work in the afternoon or early morning because of school so I close a bit early to do some of the work myself. Then come back in the morning and do it all again.” He laughed at the last part, but to Virgil it sounded more like an exhausted sigh.

“Do you enjoy it?” Virgil asked. He stood up and sat back down at the table across from Patton.

“Of course.” Patton responded immediately. He dropped his pencil. “The problem isn’t that…” he met eyes with Virgil and smiled a closed eye smile. “I’m just very tired. That’s all.”

Virgil nodded, holding the water bottle in his hand. He squeezed it tightly and opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted by a bell sound.

“PATTTTTTTTONNNNNNNN!”

A loud booming voice shouted loud enough to filter to the breakroom. Virgil turned to Patton with wide eyes while Patton only laughed.

“No worries, Virgil. It’s just my friend. His name’s Roman and he’s a bit of a big personality. But that’s why I love him.” Patton reassured with a smile.

Another bell tone sounded but no more shouting happened as a response.

“And that is probably Logan trailing behind Roman.” Patton informed. “They tend to both come here after work and classes respectively. I think you’d like them.” Patton looked at Virgil who looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

Virgil shook his head and stood up. His head went a bit mushy and he grabbed the chair for stability. Patton stood and rushed to Virgil’s side. “Virgil… you should really be careful. You’re still recovering.”

“I need you to help me see them.” Virgil insisted.

Patton raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Um sure okay. I didn’t think you’d actually want to but that’s great.” He put one arm around Virgil’s waist and the other holding Virgil’s hand. “Is this okay?”

Virgil nodded and the two walked out of the breakroom, down a small hallway, and finally through the door to the front desk and dining area.

Sitting at one of the tables were two men. One wore a gray beanie on his head and was dressed in pink and red. He was grinning with his head placed on interwoven fingers staring at the man across from him. The one who was being stared at was ignoring the starer, looking down at his book in his hand. His blue blazer was pressed perfectly and his face was contorted with annoyance.

“Patton! You have a new friend?” The red clad man, Roman, said. He turned to face them.

“Yup! I met him a couple of days ago at the Westward Bridge!” Patton said happily. “I gave him a couple of my favorite donuts and then he found my store here this morning. His name is-”

“Virgil.”

Virgil stared at the blue blazer man who spoke as he stood up. Their eyes met and Patton felt Virgil’s body tense up.

“L…” Virgil said softly.

“You two… know each other?” Roman questioned.

“Yes.” Logan responded firmly. “Roman, Patton: this is my brother, Virgil. The brother I thought disappeared off the face of the earth a few years back.”

A silence fell upon the room as Virgil and Logan awkwardly stared at each other.

Virgil sighed. There was going to be a lot of explaining to do.

[emybain]

Total Fluff Where Nova Surprises Everyone

I previously posted something about a mother coming up to sketch’s team in public and asking them to hold her baby while she did something, and the baby is crying and all of that, and no one can calm them down except for nova, much to everyone’s surprise and amusement. I decided to write it because i have nothing better to do with my life. Im gonna say it takes place post-archenemies but pre-reveal so…. Here. 

Edit: Holy heck I did not mean for this to be so long Im so sorry. Warning: this is unedited bc im tired.

Nova’s eyes followed Adrian as he paced back and forth. They were in the lounge, waiting to be called in for a patrol shift. Oscar and Ruby were playing Battle to the Death, like they always did, and were volleying insults to one another. Danna was...well...stuck in swarm mode still. Nova’s stomach churned at the thought. Her butterflies had disappeared after the gala a couple of weeks ago, according to Adrian, and hadn’t made an appearance since. Nova was constantly checking her surroundings whenever she was alone to make sure that one of them wasn’t following her the way the one currently trapped in the room she shared with honey was. She tried to push down thoughts of Danna, and how if her trapped butterfly somehow got loose, it would all be over for Nova.

    Nova wanted nothing more than to be done with the Renegades, but she still had a mission. A mission that was supposed to have ended two weeks ago, had it not been for the arrest of her uncle, Ace Anarchy. This hero charade was running itself dry. Nova was back on track; her uncle’s arrest reminded her of that. She was expecting Leroy or Honey or Phobia to tell her any day now that she could put Nova McLain and Insomnia to rest. That she could become Nightmare, fully, again.

    She waited for that day with anticipation, fingers itching to grasp it. It was only a matter of time before the Renegades caught onto her game, also. Too many clues, too many reckless mistakes, had been left behind the night of the gala. Then, she had thought her time parading around as a Renegade was over. She hadn’t cared about what she did or the damage she left that would lead the Renegades busting down the door to her home and arresting her. She cared now. Every step, every maneuver, every breath, was taken with precaution. Even now, Nova’s eyes left Adrian’s pacing form to glance at the elevator doors, at the exit signs, at the room full of Renegades that could easily outnumber her. Every time the elevator buzzed open, she expected more experienced and higher up Renegades to come bursting in, armed with powers and weapons and handcuffs and Agent N specifically for Nova.

    Adrian passed her for the umpteenth time, and she grabbed his hand, which had been used to amplify his rant about Nightmare. She had only been half listening to him, as it was stuff she had heard a thousand times before, how much he hated her and how she would pay for what she did to Max.

    Max, who was currently hidden away in his quarantine. No one was allowed to visit him, not even Captain Chromium. After barely surviving being ran through with the chromium spear, and having to go through a surgery that lasted hours, Max had been transported back to his quarantine to avoid the media and to prevent prodigies from being affected by his power. He was on strict bed rest, and would be that way for many weeks. Nova’s heart tugged, and she longed to tell Adrian that it wasn’t Nightmare who almost killed Max, but Genissa Clark, who was no longer a Renegade after being tranquilized by Nova herself. However, there was no way for her to tell Adrian without revealing her true identity and ruining everything. Not that it would matter much if he knew the truth, anyways. He still hated Nightmare with a burning passion.

    Ironic, really.

    Adrian paused in his ranting, mid-sentence about how in the hell did Nightmare even have access to Agent N and how she was able to take down Frostbite’s entire team alone. Another thing that could trace itself back to Nova.

    Adrian looked down at their hands, mouth open slightly. He stopped pacing, finally, too surprised by her confidant gesture. Nova took the opportunity and pressed her luck more, covering the back of his hand with her other one, sandwiching his together between hers. She squeezed his hand softly with the one holding his palm and stroked his knuckles with the thumb on her other hand. She gazed up at him, trying to feign a worried face. She batted her eyelashes, opened her eyes a little wider, raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. It wasn’t hard, as she was truly worried about him. About his obsession, his lack of sleep, his constant Nightmare this and Nightmare that. He was worrying himself sick over the same person he was letting hold his hand.

    “You need to stop, Adrian.” Nova insisted. “You’ve been going on about Nightmare ever since we set foot in here, and you’ve been obsessing over her ever since that night.” He flinched, down casting his eyes.

    “You don’t understand,” he muttered. “I have to find her, Nova. She tried to-”

    “I know.” Nova sighed, a little frustrated. She pushed down the negativity, though, and stopped her stroking to stand and nudge his chin so he would look at her. He jumped at the contact.  “You need to get your mind off of her.”

    Adrian tugged her closer, making Nova’s heart race. She ignored it. Mostly. “I’ve tried. It’s just...it’s hard to after what she did.”

    “I know,” Nova repeated. They were inches apart. For all Nova cared, they could be the only two people in that room. In the entire world. “How do you think I felt after my family..you know..” she trailed off, then shook her head. “I was angry for a long time, Adrian. I’m still angry, but there’s nothing I can do about it to change what happened.” When his eyes started to drift away from hers again, she placed a desperate hand on his chest. “Adrian, Max is still here. He was very lucky.”

    Adrian stared at her for so long that she shifted, feeling his eyes bore into her, making her feel bare. Then, he closed his eyes, let out a slow breath, and pulled the hand that was still holding his to his lips. The soft press of his kiss on the back of her hand was so intimate that it sent a shock through Nova’s body. She felt her cheeks light up. He held her hand there for a second, then pulled back, letting their entwined hands fall between them. She instantly missed the contact, even though they were still holding one another.

    “You’re right,” he finally said, with a slight nod.

    Nova pressed a smile to her lips. It was tight. “I have an idea: let’s take a walk. Maybe go to the park? They clearly don’t need us here right now if we haven’t been called in yet, and if they do, we’ll get a message through our communication bands.”

    Adrian seemed to ponder it for a moment, then nodded again, this time firmly. “Alright. Should we tell Oscar and Ruby, or should we let them continue their bickering?”

    They both glanced over at the pair, who had moved onto another arcade game that Nova was unfamiliar to. It looked like some sort of racing game, with seats and steering wheels. Ruby was trying to mess Oscar up by swiping at his steering wheel, causing his car to veer off-course. He cursed her and swatted at her hand, shoving her away, although not harshly. Ruby cackled, trying to do it again while controlling her own wheel, but Oscar was able to keep her away this time. He kept glancing at her, and if it was out of precaution or affection or both, Nova had no clue. She shook her head.

    “I think they need some fresh air, too.”

    Nova and Adrian trailed behind Oscar and Ruby, hand in hand. Oscar must’ve made a bad joke, because he threw his head back laughing while Ruby groaned, face palming. Nova caught a glimpse of a smile on her face, however. She also noticed Oscar’s failed attempts to reach for her hand, as Ruby was animated and used her hands whenever she spoke. A pang of sympathy went through Nova for Oscar.

    “When are they going to get together,” Nova said under her breath, shooting a smile to Adrian. He chuckled and shook his head.

    “When they decide to fess up to each other.”

    “So never?”

    “Probably.”

    Nova shook her head, watching the two in front of them. She thought back to her conversation with Oscar back at the gala. He really was charming, despite, well, everything he did. And it was clear that Ruby liked him back; he was just too in-denial to see it.

    A breeze blew through, sending goosebumps down Nova’s arm. The weather was starting to turn, becoming chillier every day. The issued Renegade’s uniform wasn’t exactly made with material for winter. Nightmare’s disguise would’ve kept her warm, she thought smugly.

    Ahead, Oscar and Ruby slowed to a stop and looked behind them, waiting for Nova and Adrian to catch up. When they did, the four of them started walking again.

    “Have either of you heard anything from Danna?” Ruby asked, worry lacing her tone. “Oscar and I were just discussing that, and how her swarm won’t fair well with this weather.”

    Adrian shook his head. “No. Nothing since the gala, when I last messaged her.”

    “Yeah, we haven’t heard anything since we saw her butterflies at the cathedral.” Ruby shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

    Nova opened her mouth, about to feign having not seen her either, when a young woman with a crying baby in her arms rushed over to them. The group stopped, all four surprised.

    “Excuse me,” the woman said, clearly stressed. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but there are no other mother’s around, and I saw the uniforms. Can you watch my daughter for me for like five minutes? My son just ran off and I can’t catch him while holding her.”

    Adrian was the first to speak. “Of course, ma’am.” He smiled at her pleasantly. “Do you need any help finding your son?”

    Relief swept over the woman’s features. “No, I know where he’s going, I just need to grab him before he gets there or I’ll be in huge trouble. He’s done this dozens of times that I know his route and how fast he goes, so it won’t take long.” She hurried forward and pushed the baby into Adrian’s arms, forcing him to let go of Nova’s hand, much to her dismay. “Thank you so much! I’ll be back in a minute!” The woman waved a hand over her shoulder as she dashed off in mad pursuit of her rogue son, shouting his name.

    Adrian looked to Nova, then to Ruby, then Oscar, panic written all over his face. His shoulders were stiff, and he held the baby at a distance from himself, awkward. The baby continued to cry, harder than before now that she was separated from her mother.

    “Help,” was all Adrian said. Nova’s mouth twitched, and she bit her cheek to keep from smiling. It was too comical.

    Oscar was less nice about keeping it in, and bust out laughing. Adrian glared at him. Ruby rolled her eyes and stepped forward, muttering about how useless boys were. She took the baby from Adrian’s arms without question, cradling her close to her chest and making shushing sounds. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, rocking back and forth.

    The baby continued to cry, fisting her hands against Ruby’s uniform.

    After a minute, Ruby looked up with the same panicked expression as Adrian. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she stammered out, “I used to hold my brothers all the time when they were babies, and I could usually get them to stop crying. Oscar?”

    Oscar backed up, eyes wide. “Hell no. I love kids as much as anyone, but me holding a baby is bad luck.”

    Ruby groaned, shifting the infant in her arms.

    Nova had an idea. A terrible idea, really, but one that would work. She debated for a bit, arms crossed and biting her lip, then stepped forward, arms outstretched.

    “Give her to me.” She beckoned for Ruby to place the crying child in her arms. Ruby looked at Nova as if she had grown a second head. Adrian and Oscar held similar gazes.

    Nova’s face reddened at the staring. Her jaw tightened in defense. “What? I had a baby sister. I knew how to calm her better than my parents.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She spent multiple nights using her power on Evie to keep her quiet in their tiny apartment.

    Ruby hesitated, then sighed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to do. She placed the baby in Nova’s waiting arms, unfurling her little fists from her uniform. Nova held the infant close to her chest, cradling her beneath the head. Her pudgy face was scrunched up and scarlet from crying. It didn’t look like she would be giving up anytime soon, either.

    Nova glanced at the others, who were watching her closely. With a great sigh, and a small tinge of regret for what she was about to do, Nova cleared her throat. Her Papà used to sing her and Evie to sleep when they were having rough nights. She distinctly remembered one lullaby that always got her to fall asleep quickly. And if that didn’t work on this baby, well, she had her power.

    Reluctantly, Nova opened her mouth, and sang.

“Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?

Ninna nanna, ninna oh

Questo bimbo a chi lo dò?”

    Out of the corner of her eye, Nova saw Oscar’s jaw drop. He elbowed Adrian roughly, whispering. Blushing furiously, Nova turned her back to them, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of the song.

“Se lo dò alla befana

se lo tiene una settimana

Se lo dò all’uomo nero

se lo tiene un anno intero.”

    The crying from the baby had stopped, thankfully, and the little girl’s eyes were open. Their deep brown orbs stared up at Nova in wonder, mouth open. Nova cracked a small smile, sad, as she thought of Evie.

“Se lo dò al lupo bianco

se lo tiene tanto tanto

Ninna nanna, nanna fate

Il mio bimbo addormentate.”

     The infant did not close her eyes as Nova had hoped. Instead, she reached up and tugged at Nova’s hair. Nova ignored this, remembering that Evie used to do the same thing. She started the lullaby again, doing a little dance now. She kept her back to her teammates, not daring to look at them. When she got near the end of the song, she let her power flow through her gently, like with Evie. She stroked the baby’s soft curls, smiling at her as the baby’s eyes grew droopy, then closed. The baby girl relaxed instantly, curling into Nova. Nova hummed the lullaby, pretending that she was still trying to get the baby to fall asleep as she turned to face three wide eyed Renegades, mouths opening and closing like fish out of water. She avoided their gazes, continuing to hum and rock and look at the baby’s features. The baby was pretty adorable when she wasn’t screaming her head off.

    “Thank you so much!” Nova looked up to see the mother, now sweaty and out of breath, coming towards them with a squirming toddler beside her. Nova could see how white the woman’s hands were from holding her son so tightly. He looked very proud of himself, mischief in his eyes. “Oh my goodness, you got her to fall asleep?” The mother gaped at Nova, then glanced down at her child, still fast asleep in Nova’s arms.

    Nova laughed nervously. “Um, yeah. I sang to her and she just passed out. I used to sing to my little sister all the time when she was a baby. She was always crying, and my parent’s could never get her to sleep. But, whenever I held her, she would fall asleep almost immediately.” A partial lie, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.

    “She hates going to sleep!” the woman exclaimed, still staring at her baby in wonder. “It takes me hours to get her to even close her eyes. You have a true gift!” She turned her attention to her son, made him promise to not run away again, let go of his hand, and took her daughter from Nova, slowly to avoid waking her. “If you ever need some extra money, I would love to have you as a babysitter.”

    Nova’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vigorously. “Oh! Um...I would love to, but...I..I’m already so busy with Renegade work and my studies and things at home.” She smiled sheepishly. “But thank you for the offer.”

    The woman’s expression fell for a moment, and Nova felt bad. But what was she to do? Nightmare becoming a babysitter was the last thing Nova needed, even if she could bring in some money for the Anarchists.

    “Well, okay. If you change your mind, my name is Liliana Hemmings. I walk through this park every day around this time, so feel free to come find me.” She smiled brightly then at all four of them, gratitude written across her features. “Thank you again so much for the help. It’s always good to know we can count on the Renegades. Have a nice day!” She waved to the four of them, and they all said their goodbyes. Nova bit her lip in irritation at her comment. No one should count on the Renegades. They only brought disappointment.

    Oscar whistled loudly, moving forward to clap an arm around Nova’s shoulders, which she pushed away instantly. He snorted, unbothered. “Well, would you look at that? Our vicious and antisocial little Nova not only knows how to rock a baby, but she can sing too!” Nova glared at him, then cast her eyes downward. When she didn’t reply, Oscar continued. “And did you guys hear that vibrato? I say she’s a solid soprano.”

    “Shut up, Oscar.” Nova rolled her eyes, annoyed, yet trying to keep a smile from blooming on her face.

    “No, but seriously, where did you learn all of that, Nova?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, amused.

    Nova shrugged, shrinking under so much attention. “My dad used to sing all the time in Italian. And like I already said, I used to help put my sister to sleep all the time because my parents always had a hard time.”

    They seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then, all of their communication bands went off.

    “Looks like they need us.” Ruby beckoned them. “C’mon, let’s head back.” She and Oscar started walking, and Nova was thankful, for the first and last time in history, for the Renegades for saving her from further embarrassment. She started to follow behind Oscar and Ruby, but was pulled back by Adrian. There was a teasing smile on his face that burned her cheeks, yet she still allowed him to pull her against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist confidently. Through their uniforms, she could feel his heart beating against hers.

    “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured, moving a hand to cup her cheek. His hand was cool against its heat. “I had no idea you could sing.”

    “Oh, we’re being Mr. Suave now, are we?” Nova tried to keep a neutral voice, but she couldn’t hide the shaking in her tone. Adrian grinned, much to her frustration, pleased at the not-compliment. The hand still at her waist squeezed, and she bit her lip to keep from gasping. Her arms remained at her side, balled into fists. She would not be drawn into his antics.

    “I’m feeling much better because of you, Nova. I wanted to thank you.” His voice turned sincere, and he pulled her closer, tilting his head down. Nova’s eyes betrayed her, flitting down to his lips. She glanced back up at him.

    “You’re welcome,” she said, although it came out hoarse. She could feel Adrian’s breath on her chin. Unable to control herself anymore, Nova closed the space between them, pressing her lips against his. He grinned and returned the kiss, deepening it slightly.

    “We’re in public.” She pulled back slightly, just to have Adrian chase after her lips.

    “And?” He moved both his hands now to cup her face, kissing her tenderly. Nova wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair. She could go on like this forever, wrapped in Adrian’s warm embrace, cuddling, kissing, enjoying every second life had to offer.

    And then Oscar had to ruin it.

    “Ay, lovebirds!” he yelled, almost twenty feet away. The people around them turned their attention to Nova and Adrian. Nova pulled back instantly, but Adrian leaned in for one final peck, lingering a second too long for Oscar’s liking. “Can you keep your faces apart for two seconds or am I gonna have to come over there?” Nova turned, glaring. She wanted to slap that smug smile from Oscar’s face. Next to him, Ruby held her face in her hands, probably embarrassed for Nova and Adrian.

    “We’re coming!” Adrian called back, tugging at Nova’s hand.

Not two (2) days later, in the lounge before a night patrol:

    “You guys remember that time Nova showed her soft side by singing in Italian for a baby in public?”

    “Oscar if you don’t shut up now I will throw this pillow at you.”

[theclaravoyant]

If you’re still doing FitzSkimmons prompts where Daisy keeps falling asleep on the other two so they’re unable to move

AN ~ with pleasure my friend, with pleasure! three fluffy drabbles for the price of one bc it’s What She Deserves(TM). Fluff, romantic FSK, Rated G.

Read on AO3 (~1600wd)

-

One of the things FitzSimmons admired most about their mutual girlfriend was her tenacity. It was an inspirational quality that each of them had taken quite to heart – and, not to mention, it was probably a large part of the reason they had ended up together in the first place – but the downside of it was that burning the candle at both ends left Daisy very tired, at very inconvenient times.

Take for example this particular Monday.

Jemma woke with a start when her alarm began to chirp; usually, she beat its rise, but tonight she was tired too, and had been lulled into a particularly deep sleep. She was not unaccustomed to waking up with the weight of the others crushing her chest – somehow she’d simply learnt to breathe through it – but with Daisy sprawled across her like this she had no chance of turning that damned alarm off, let alone getting up. She could barely even reach her glass of water, stuck fumbling across the bedside table without being able to lift her head high enough to look.

For a moment, Jemma thought she might as well just give up and bask in the extra warmth and the excuse to lie in. But her phone continued to chirp and buzz on the desk across the other side of the room, her mouth was dry, her chest was starting to hurt, and Daisy was unresponsive to her prods and pleading whispers. She was cute though, don’t get Jemma wrong; she was like a sleeping cat – and besides, it was a rare moment she got to treasure like this – but said moments were rare for a reason. Aside from anything else, Jemma had to get to a conference this morning. And Daisy could sleep. It was time to call in reinforcements. Somehow.

Jemma patted her hand across the bedside table again. Book. Bottle of medication. Glass of water. Wrapper of something. Phone – Daisy’s phone.

“Yes!”

Lifting the phone as high as she could manage and arching her back to try and look over Daisy’s head, she tapped out a text and sent it. It wasn’t long before Fitz appeared in the doorway – looking worried for a moment, and then, calm and adoring. He smiled sympathetically at Jemma as he approached.

“Okay, how are we going to do this?” he asked. “I’d throw the water on her but… I just can’t. Look at her, Jemma.”

“I know,” Jemma agreed. “And I’ve tried waking her and I’ve tried rolling her off me, but you know how she is. I wouldn’t even mind, but I’ve got a conference…”

“Okay, okay.” Fitz took a deep breath. “I have one more idea. One that won’t mean waking her up.”

Jemma gasped theatrically. “No, Fitz, you can’t!”

“It’s too late Jemma. I’m coming in.”

With a moment to mock-salute, Fitz dove into the covers and took up the space in the bed that Daisy had left free by sleeping on top of Jemma. Carefully, between the two of them, they rolled and lifted Daisy’s sleeping form until she had been transplanted onto Fitz’s chest instead. She curled up contentedly, and Fitz didn’t argue when she elbowed him in the gut to resettle.

Jemma extricated herself from the tumble of limbs and reached across the bed back to Fitz. One of his arms was trapped and the other couldn’t reach her across the whole bed, but their fingertips hovered inches apart.

“I’ll never forget you!” Jemma cried, her chest heaving like a damsel in an old film.

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Fitz promised. “Go on without me!”

Jemma carried on the act with a grin as she swept herself away to collect her clothes and head to the showers. In truth it was hard to pull herself away from the thought of a quiet morning in spent with her lovers, so the ridiculous over-dramatisation actually did help a little, even in its bitter-sweetness hitting close to home.

When she was gone, Fitz turned his attention back to Daisy, and stroked her hair gently. She was so animated and full of character even when she was asleep. Or – not so asleep.She smirked against his chest, without opening her eyes. “You two nerds are so dramatic.”

“It’s why you love us.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Fitz kissed the top of Daisy’s head and she fell silent again, for a long while, letting the steady rise and fall of Fitz’s breathing and the warmth of his hand on her back lull her back to sleep.

-

There was another time, on the Quinjet, after a messy but unfortunately, not all that unusual mission. Daisy had exhausted her body, her powers, and her emotions, and had cried on Fitz’s shoulder until she’d fallen asleep in his lap. He had worked the straps and belts as much as he could to protect her, but most of all he just made sure to wrap her firmly in his arms. (And, after the day they’d just had, he was a little too proud of this fact – he had no doubt Jemma would have poked fun at him and his peacock expression had she not been busy in the medbay helping patch a few people up. Perhaps he’d tell her about it later. It would make her smile.)

For now though, Fitz was content to embrace the opportunity to protect one who often resisted the notion of being protected. It was an honour to cradle Daisy’s vulnerability in his arms, and not one he took lightly. Fortunately, it seemed that the cosmos shared this sense of protectiveness – as did May at the wheel, guiding them, and everybody else on the plane, who mercifully chose to leave Daisy undisturbed and to solve their problems amongst themselves instead. The journey passed without turbulence, except for a couple of jolts from Daisy’s fitful sleep. It was only once they docked on the Zephyr that Fitz realised they’d have a problem.

More specifically, it was when Jemma came up from the medbay and caught sight of them both, and smiled.

“All’s well here then?” she checked.

“Nothing a little tea and some comforting films won’t fix,” Fitz promised. “Unless you count the fact that somebody’s going to have to chop off my leg. Haven’t felt it for a few hours now. It seems Daisy and I have fused into one being. You’re going to have to cart us around on a stretcher for the rest of our days. Or at least, until Daisy sleeps this off.”

“Or,” Jemma countered. “I could leave you here with her, to wait like the gentleman you are, until she wakes of her own accord, and your stomach can simply wait its turn.”

Fitz gasped, scandalized. “Jemma. If my stomach has to wait much longer it’s going to eat Daisy. I’m warning you now. Also, the leg. Seriously. Now that I’m thinking about it it’s started feeling things again and that thing is the thing where it’s on fire.”

“Noble sacrifices, my love,” Jemma reminded him, leaning over Daisy to steal a kiss from him. “I’d take over, but I have to shower. I’ll help you wake her up?”

“No, leave her,” Fitz agreed. “But, uh, maybe bring us up a sandwich when you get a chance? Ooh, and some crisps. And some of those – Little Debbie things.”

Jemma’s sweet smile turned into a sardonic expression, eyebrow raised.

“What?” Fitz suggested, looking as innocent as possible. “Not for me, they’re for Daisy. She specifically asked for them. Just before she drifted off. You weren’t here but it’s true, I swear.”He heard a sound from Daisy, and covered her face with her hair and then her hair with his hand, in case she gave him away. Jemma’s eyes shifted between them skeptically, and she eventually agreed.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said. “Both of you. I’ll be back.”

“Thanks, babe!” Fitz called after her as she left. It seemed like something Daisy would say.

-

“Come on babes,” Jemma beckoned, elbowing Daisy. “May texted. The shuttle’s leaving. If we don’t go now we’re going to miss the film.”

Daisy curled up: perfectly content just where she was. Perfectly content to never open her eyes again, to just listen to the voices and the breaths of Fitz and Simmons, who cradled her as she hovered on the edge of sleep. Deep voices of something dramatic on Neflix warbled in the background, and she could feel the pipes humming all around them pumping water and air as if the base were a body. It was loud, too loud for some, but it was familiar. It was alive. It was Fitz’s hand absently stroking the short hair at the nape of her neck. It was Jemma’s hand resting tenderly on her thigh, even as her other hand tried to prod Daisy awake. Even as sleep eluded her, this was rest. It was home.

Fitz hummed, and Daisy felt the rumble of it in his chest.

“Maybe we should let her be,” he suggested. “We can catch it next time.”

“She’s the one who wanted to see it,” Jemma reminded him, “and our next R&R roster, such as it is, all together isn’t for weeks.”

“Then maybe we should do what R&R was invented for. Rest and relaxation.”

“It’s recreation, Fitz. Rest and recreation.”

“I am recreating!” Fitz insisted. “It’s not our fault you get your jollies from a full schedule. Me, I’d be happy to just sleep all weekend.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would, if it meant I got to spend it with you.”

Daisy smiled. She could picture the look Jemma was giving Fitz right now; a fond sort of irritation at her sappy romantic man. Then, ever the planner, Jemma returned her attention to the problem at hand. She and Fitz settled into a familiar rhythm of banter as they tossed dinner options back and forth between them. Their voices lulled Daisy, until she eventually lost track of the argument, then the words, and then even consciousness itself; asleep at last in the arms of her loves.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

for that big list of aus do you think you could combine 10.iv and 10.v with reddie ???? with Eddie being the one obsessed with Christmas and snow bc it just sounds adorable okay and your writing is amazing

You are too kind. This ended up really long, my bad.

Richie watched the snow fall from his seat, the white clumpsgathering at the base of the window before flying off back into the abyss. Asmile curled at the corner of his lips, he loved snow, probably more than anyof his friends. It had a purity to it, a sense that their sins would wash awaywith the new blanket of fluff. He preferred it around Christmas, but he wouldsettle for its early arrival.

“Okay you got Bill’s new roommate’s name down right? Youaren’t going to embarrass me right?” Stan asked flatly from beside him. Anyonewho gave him a second look would think that the boy was 60 rather than 23. He worepressed pants, a cardigan, and carried a sense of arrogance that only peoplewith years of experience in life have. Not to mention his granny reading glassesand Sunday newspaper that he insisted on bringing along with them for theirtrip. They were complete opposites. Richie had more of a punk rock vibe,choosing torn jeans over pressed ones and a leather jacket over a cardigan anyday.How they ended up best friends was beyond them.

“Yeah, yeah. Eddie. I got it the first time you told me.” Hereplied, huffing in annoyance. “Doesn’t he have his own family to be with forThanksgiving? That place is already going to be crowded with Mike’s new girl coming.”

Stan rolled his eyes, “Don’t be bitter just because you haveto sleep on the floor.”

“Well not everyone can sleep in Bill’s bed.” He retortedplayfully, enjoying the bush that crept up Stan’s neck. “I mean I could, butyou know I’m a vivid dreamer. I’d hate to play out my wet dreams with the twoof you and-“

“Beep beep Richie.” He jeered just as their stop wasannounced.

The two exited, heading out of the terminal and out into thebusy streets of New York. “So have you ever even met this guy?” Richie asked,following close to on his friends heels. “Is he a weirdo like Bill’s last roommate,or like a creep like his roommate before that?”

“Bill says he’s normal. A little pristine but normal.” Stanshrugged, pulling his coat tighter against him as the snow became heavier inthe air. “He’s a nurse at the hospital, real smart and real clean.”

“Sounds like I’m gonna hate him.”

“Wow you just have the most faith in people don’t you?” Hebit, the townhouse coming into view. “You don’t have to like him Rich, you justhave to deal with him okay? Just for this holiday and then Christmas is at Beverly’s.”

Richie blew a raspberry as his response, to which Stanmerely ignored. They took to the steps of the home, knocking at the door. “I’mtelling you Richie, if you ruin this I will kick you out of our apartment. Justbehave.”

There wasn’t enough time to respond because that second thedoor opened, reviling a very done up Beverly. She let out a squeal, embracingStan. “Oh finally, you were the last to arrive! Did you have a nice tripupstate?”

“Fine.” Stan lied, moving past her and into the home.

“Damn Bev, eat my heart out.” Richie cooed, pulling the fieryhaired woman into his arms.

“Don’t let Ben hear you. I’m spoken for now.” She repliedsweetly, holding out her left hand. “He’s going to make an honest woman of meafter all.”

“God damn look at that rock!” He cooed, pulling her hand toget a closer look. “Shit, I’ll let him fuck me if he gets me one of those!” Beverlypushed him playfully, shaking her head in annoyance.

Once Richie entered the home, the smell of turkey andstuffing wafted back into him. His stomach responded by growling eagerly. He wasnext met with Ben, who hugged him briefly but sternly, followed by Mike and hisnew girlfriend who he learned was named Maggie and who embraced him regardlessof just meeting him. Richie felt his heart swell at the sight of them all, thankfulthat he had his own little family this time of the year.

“Where’s Bill? I gotta tell him that that food smellsamazing.”

“Oh he’s in the kitchen with Eddie.” Mike replied, gesturingto the door. Richie grimaced at the statement, picturing an extremely primpedand uptight man helping his brother with their dinner. He nodded, trudging throughthe door.  

He entered the room with a bang, the door slamming againstthe counters loudly. “Honey, I’m home!” Richie bellowed obnoxiously.

Bill looked up from the oven, smiling widely. “RichieTozier, as I live and breathe.” He cooed, dropping his spoon and pulling hisfriend into a sincere hug, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a fucking year.”

“Just about.” He replied, looking over to the beautifularray of the food. “Since when did you become a chef? Last time you were incharge of dinner, you burnt the pizza.”

“Actually Eddie cooked.”

“You helped.” A voice replied from behind the door to thefridge. As the barrier was shut, Richie could feel his breath hitch in the backof his throat. The man, who he thought he would hate, was no older than him. Hewas short in stature, standing only to Richie’s chest. The pink polo he worewas partially covered by his apron, which looked well used. Bill was right indescribing him as pristine, but also horribly incorrect. Inside of him wasn’tan old soul like Stan, but rather a bright and beautiful one, one that wouldburn Richie to the core.

Eddie smiled, causing Richie’s knees to become weak. “I don’tthink we’ve met.” The small adult muttered, extending his hand. “You must be Richie.”

“Yes sir.” He managed in response, taking the petite hand intohis. God, he was soft. “You’re Eddie yeah?”

“That’s me.” Eddie jeered. “The party crasher.”

“Stop calling yourself that.” Bill interjected as they droppedtheir hands, making Richie instantly feel bare. “I invited you to this, therewasn’t any way you could go back home this year, not after what happened.”

“What happened?” Richie asked.

Eddie cringed, recovering quickly with a fake smile. “Nothingto worry about right now.” He replied softly. “Dinner is almost done. Do youmind telling the others?” Richie nodded, looking to Bill who only wore a sadface. As he left he could hear their hushed voices and although he could notmake out what was said he was sure that Eddie was scorning his roommate for theslip.

The food was absolutely fabulous.

Every single item was made to perfection, and the Losers atethe entire thing up. As they sat around the table lazily, conversation seemedto center around the surprising snow fall. Richie felt his stomach flip in excitement.His head perked up, smiling at his friends he blurted. “Okay, who is going togo out and look at the snow with me?”

Everyone groaned at once, all muttering smoothing profoundunder their breath. Maggie looked like she was going to raise her hand but Mikesnatched her wrist, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ll go.” A small voice fromthe opposite end of the table said.

“Uh Eddie, I don’t think you want to do that.” Ben warned, “Richieis a bit intense.”

“I’ll be fine. I love the snow.”

Richie barged outside with the small boy in tow, kicking upthe snow that had freshly fallen on their steps. He beamed as he watched Bill’sroommate follow him, his pea-coat nearly swallowing him whole. Eddie smiled,taking two steps at a time until his feet were firmly planted on the asphalt. “So.”He sang, raising an eyebrow at Richie. “Is there a specific reason your friendsdidn’t want to join you?”

“Maybe…” Richie replied sly, watching the other kid wanderaround the sidewalk. “Maybe not…”

Eddie hummed, rolling eyes and looking up towards the sky.Richie took his opening, shoving a handful of snow down the back of his coat.Eddie squealed in surprise, jumping in circles and cursing his name. Richiecouldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m the snow king Eds. That’s why no one-“He was cut shortby a snow ball that hit him squarely in the chest, sending shards of ice intohis mouth. “What in the hell!” he sputtered, tasting the lingering New Yorkflavor.

“You’re a shitty king.” Eddie retorted, throwing another ball,only this time missing by a few inches.

“Oh you’re dead.”

Bill and the others watched in horror as the two returned completelydrenched from head to toe. They were rushed off to shower and change with stupidlybig grins plastered on their faces. Richie refused to admit that he had losthis crown.

After that the night progressed quickly, becoming one bigblur of laughter and tomfoolery. It was like Eddie had been the missing pieceof their group, his smart mind keeping Stan and Ben entertained, his work andtravel interesting Mike and his quick mouth keeping Richie in line. No matterwho he spoke with, in a matter of mere minutes they were swooned, drawn in byhis charisma and kindness.

Two by two, the couples left for bed, leaving Richie andEddie. Conversation began to lag, an uncomfortable silence lingering betweenthen. Richie wasn’t typically the edgy type, hell he could make a politiciansmile, but there was something about Eddie that made him nervous. Almostscared. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing or make him uncomfortable in anyway so he opted for nothing. Which in retrospect probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed after nearly thirty minutes ofsilence. “I almost forgot!”

Richie watched the small figure jump from the couch and bolttowards the hallway closet. There was a commotion and a few slurs buteventually he emerged with a tote that was almost as large as he was. Eddiesmirked up at him, popping open the lid and expelling the contents.

“What the actual fuck?” Richie griped, watching none otherthan Christmas directions spill at his feet. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.” He replied with a pop of his p. Quickly he began togather his things, an excitable giggle following him as he went.

“It’s literally still Thanksgiving.”

“So?”

“So? It’s fucking November and-no, not the tree. Put thatback.”

Eddie ignored him, setting up the base by the staircase. Heskipped with enthusiasm, disregarding the looks that Richie gave him. It wasalmost too cute, his tiny hands working poorly with the twisted lights, hishappy hum causing Richie to just stare in awe.

How had he gone his entire life not knowing this kid? Whatwas this feeling burning in his chest and what in the hell was he doing startingin the middle of the bundle?

“Oh my god, you’re doing it all wrong!” Richie muttered,grabbing the tangled mess from Eddie. “Let me just do it.”

“Thanks.” He whispered, his cheeks blushing a beautiful pinktint.

“Yeah yeah.” Riche replied, his voice lacking bite.

“I owe ya one.” Eddie poked, moving to the tote and pullingout more decorations.

Richie could feel the question on his tongue, he bit downhard trying to kill it but somehow it managed to slip past him. “So uh, whydidn’t you just go home for Thanksgiving?”

He could see Eddie tense up at the question, making Richieregret even speaking. Surprisingly he relaxed, wrapping the long tinsel aroundhis neck and filling his tiny hands with ornaments. “I had it out with mymother recently, we got into a huge fight and she told me not to come home forthe holidays.”

“Oh.” Richie choked, watching Eddie shrug. “What was it all about?”

“She doesn’t want a faggot for a son.” He replied easily,before Richie had a chance to reply he turned towards him, smiling. “Do youthink I should hang mistletoe?”

“Hell yeah.”