#we do not talk enough about his 'friends'

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[jobean12-blog]

Birds of a Feather

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You have to attend a close relative's wedding and there's no one better to bring than your best friend, Bucky.

Author's Note: Seeing so much of happy Seb lately-and looking so good-made me want to write something sexy and fluffy so here we are. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thanks Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet, tense and flirty, Bucky is the best in every way!

‘Come on up. Room 322.’

His thumbs hang limply over the phone screen, his brain going blank.

When he sent the text ten seconds earlier to let you know he’s arrived he figured you would meet him down in the lobby or at the hall.

Meeting you in the hotel room is a problem he anticipated when he gave himself a pep talk before leaving.

“She’s your best friend. Don’t do anything stupid…like go to the hotel room.”

His fingers finally start to move over the letters. ‘I can meet you down here…’

But maybe you need help with something?

He deletes the text, now typing, ‘is there anyone with you?,’ but that just sounds weird and possessive.

‘I can see you typing,’ you text. ‘Just come up. I need help.’

With a laugh, he deletes everything again and types simply, ‘be right there doll.’

His long legs carry him quickly to the elevator and when he presses the button for the third floor he takes a deep breath, his pulse climbing it’s way up his throat.

The door to your room is propped open with the dead bolt, but he knocks anyway.

“Come in Buck!”

Pushing it open just enough to peek his head in, he calls out, “I could be anyone, and you just invite me in without checking!”

“You just texted me you were coming up,” you sing from the bathroom, quickly continuing before he can say more, “and most of the people on his floor are friends or relatives here for the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to know you take your safety as seriously as I do,” he shouts back.

Your voice gets louder as you walk into the bedroom. “With you around I never have to worr…”

You stop for a breath when you see him, but your next words are lost to the blank void of his brain as he takes in your dress and how you look in it. To put it simply- stunning.

“Bucky?”

He startles, having no idea how long he’d been silent.

“Yeah doll…that’s…I’m here.”

When he finally drags his eyes to your face, you’re fighting a smile. “I asked if you could help me?”

“Oh, right. Sure. With what exactly?”

He cringes but steps closer.

“My dress?”

You turn around to show him the fabric at the back that hangs open, a tiny zipper dangling down at your lower back.

Trying to suppress a groan, but not being entirely successful he swallows hard. “That zipper looks very tiny.”

“It is,” you agree. “I realize I should have asked someone with smaller hands to help me out, but everyone is running around with their own nonsense so here we are.”

He approaches with a casual, “sure, of course doll.”

But then he does something without fully realizing it until the shiver runs along your back: he drags a knuckle down the curve of your spine.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder.

He just blinks and looks down to grab the zipper, mumbling about how small it is.

It’s quiet as he carefully pulls the zipper up and when he reaches the top he lets it fall and gently runs a finger along the top of the dress as he moves around to look at you.

“All set,” he whispers.

You smile and clear your throat before giving him an appreciative once over.

“You look hot.”

“Thanks doll. You…” and he struggles when his voice comes out a bit strangled, “you look breathtaking.”

You reach up and touch his bow tie, pulling at the neatly tied ends as you tell him, “I was hoping you’d arrive a flustered mess over how to tie this so I could do it for you.”

With a grin, he reaches up and tugs the end, untying it in a smooth pull.

“Figure you should do something in return after I battled that zipper,” he teases.

Still smiling, you take a hold of the tie, tugging it to align the ends evenly around his neck. “I didn’t get the impression it was such a hardship.”

His answering smirk is so telling you have to stifle a laugh.

“Are you feeling ready for this? I know these big events aren’t your favorite.”

“I’ll manage just fine doll, thanks. Besides, I’ve got the most beautiful date in the whole place.”

With your focus still on his bow tie he takes the opportunity to openly stare. When you smile at his sweet words he’s mesmerized by the way your soft lips part and his eyes stay glued to your mouth.

You look up to meet his gaze and he quickly lifts his eyes, a light pink sweeping across his cheeks.

You blink away and he looks down at your hands, noting the very little progress you’ve made.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Well…yes. I’m sure I can…”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

“You might be right!,” you quip, “but I’m no quitter.”

He’d be happy to stand there all night.

You finally step back, surveying your work, and frown. “I’m going to be honest, not sure I made it look as good as you did.”

He looks down and undoes the mess and you glower as he handily fixies it.

“Wow, no need to gloat you butthead.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh, eyes crinkled, and nose scrunched, and you enjoy the sight before he explains, “I’ve done it a million times. I’m always the one in the tux when we go undercover.”

“That’s because you’re the one that looks the best.”

“Thanks doll,” he answers quietly.

“There are so many people here,” you whisper as you lead him through the crowd in the hall.

He let’s out a low whistle, nodding in agreement and aking in the décor.

You greet people as you walk, introducing Bucky to those that don’t already know him. Their eyes follow you, curiosity piqued in their expression as they wonder who he is to you.

You wonder the same. Your favorite person in the world. Your best friend…and so much more?

You take his elbow and guide him forward toward the outside set up where the ceremony will take place. On the way you find your grandmother and introduce him.

Since he can’t take his eyes off you he notices the subtle shift in your demeanor, the softening of your face and the adoration in your eyes.

He expects a gentle handshake but instead gets pulled in for a hug.

“Oh darling, isn’t he a sight,” you grandma says, patting Bucky’s cheek. “And you,” she says, turning her eyes your way. “Gorgeous.”

“Thanks grandma,” you beam.

A woman whizzes by, catching your eye and pointing to her watch.

“Looks like it’s time,” you announce.

Bucky holds out one arm for your grandma and the other for you.

“And a gentleman too,” your grandma gushes as she loops her arm through his. “Definitely a keeper.”

“You can keep grandma company,” you say as you approach the chairs.

“Of course, doll,” he says and leans in to kiss your cheek before helping your grandma into her seat.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony.” You gather your dress and turn to head back inside to meet the wedding party. “Miss me,” you call over your shoulder with a playful smile.

He stares as you walk away, quietly admitting, “I already do.”

Slight nerves take over when you hear the music start but the moment you walk out into the crowd your eyes zero in on Bucky. And what do you know? He’s looking right back at you…and he doesn’t take his eyes off you the whole ceremony.

After the ceremony it takes forever to work your way through the crowd to him, and in between catching up with friends and family or directing someone somewhere, you catch glimpses of him smiling and laughing with your grandma and happily keeping her company.

When you finally do reach him, your grandma has been safely escorted to her seat and now a woman hangs off his arm- Jessica. You know her, an old family friend, and you like her well enough, but you step up behind them right as she asks Bucky if she can steal him for the first dance, and your stomach drops.

You jerk to a stop. He hasn’t seen you. He should accept. You’ll hate it, but you’re not in any position to protest.

But then Bucky says only a gentle, “sorry, no can do. Tonight, I’ve only got one dance partner.”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest, and you step closer, swallowing down the emotion.

“Hey you two!”

Bucky turns, extracting his arm from Jessica and setting a warm palm at your lower back.

“And here she is. My favorite dancing partner.”

Jessica leans around from his other side and says hello.

“Thanks for coming,” you tell her.

“Oh my god, of course. I wouldn’t miss it. And I was just meeting your friend, James, here.”

She emphasizes the word friend and at her usage of his real name you have to hold back a giggle.

“Isn’t he wonderful,” you hum, sliding your hand up his bicep. “He’s been keeping my grandmother company this whole time.”

She swoons and smiles at Bucky before turning back to you.

“He is. I just wasn’t expecting you to have a date. You’re usually always flying solo at these family events.”

You feel the smile slipping from your face and an uncomfortable laugh escapes.

The simple answer never comes to you, and you feel caught like a deer in the headlights.

“Actually, that’s only because I was away for work,” Bucky steps in smoothly. “I hate to miss any chance to be her date, but my schedule can be pretty demanding sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” Jessica says. “Work is important of course.”

“Yeah,” he answers, “but not as important as her. So, from now I won’t be missing another event.”

Jessica’s face does a thing. It’s a barely restrained, ‘oh okay, I see.’

Bucky’s smile remains but it doesn’t look entirely natural anymore but when he looks at you, every emotion on his face is genuine.

“Ready to find our seats doll face,” he asks you.

“Sure,” you reply.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Jennifer. Enjoy the party.”

With a firm hand, he leads you away. You allow yourself to be guided up the grassy path and indoors to where a band plays. Bucky grabs you two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hands you one.

“That was swoony,” you tell him then take a sip.

“All I did was grab it from a tray doll. Time to raise your bar a bit.”

Laughing, you smack his beefy shoulder with your free hand. “Not that! The way you gently let Jennifer have it back there.”

He takes a sip, eyes on you. “She deserved worse, but I didn’t want to start trouble.”

With your brow raised you match his mischievous grin then you take his glass and set it down on one of the small tables, leading him to the dance floor.

He looks confused at first but when your hands slide up his chest and around his neck he circles his arms around your waist.

He relaxes against you, hands warm and strong on your lower back and you rest your cheek to his shoulder.

“You’re always so comfy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you always look out for me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, doll.”

“You’re my favorite person in the Universe.”

He doesn’t respond at first, not for five or ten or thirty seconds. You keep waiting for the feeling of rejection in his silence but instead it feels like an agreement and finally his words confirm it.

“Mine too, doll.”

Your quiet slow dance is the last moment alone you have for the next few hours because what follows is a whirlwind of a reception.

And the whole time he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Think I’m ready to get out of here,” you say as you slump against his side.

He carefully holds you up as he stands and reaches to take your hand.

“Come on doll face. I’ll take you home.”

When you reach your apartment door your feet are aching, and your legs are tired. You retrieve your key from the hidden pocket in your small purse and slide it into the doorknob.

“I’m going to need you to unzip me,” you say, gesturing casually to your dress.

His silence makes you slowly turn around to face him and when you meet his eyes they’re heavy with heat and desire.

“Bucky?”

“Turn back around,” he says gruffly.

You do as your told and feel his exhaled puff of air against your bare shoulder before he takes your wrists in this hands and places your palms flat against the door. His metal fingers slide down one arm then trace the curve of your shoulder, while his other toys with the small zipper.

He starts to pull it down, so slowly, you feel every brush of his skin against yours and it sends a tremble across your body. For every new inch of your skin that he exposes his breath quickens. You can feel the heat of him so close and your fingers press into the hard wood of the door.

Once the fabric hangs loosely at the sides he stops and slips his hands inside to your waist and turns you back to face him.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “I…”

You drag your fingers along his temple and down his jaw. Your finger falls to his bottom lip, tracing it’s outline.

You can see it in his eyes, the understanding that everything between you is easy and you don’t have to try. It’s too good.

Your gaze drops to his lips again and your mouth goes soft. “Kiss me Bucky.”

The words are just barely out of your mouth and he’s already leaning in, lips on yours, warm and urgent, his hands rising to cup your face. Your instincts send tight, possessive fists to the lapels of his jacket and you melt completely into the domination and tenderness in his touch.

With a quiet groan he tilts his head, deepening the contact into a decadent slide, sending a hungry hand down your body once again and grabbing your ass to press all your softness against the hard planes of his body.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, drags slowly away, and you chase the contact, but he stops you, pressing his thumb over your lips.

He stares for what feels like forever, then kisses you again, lingering before he murmurs, “you’re so beautiful,” into the sensitive skin below your ear, and then repeats it quietly into your neck.

“Are you going to stay the night?” you ask breathless.

“If you’ll have m…”

“Yes. Yes Bucky.”

[koeniginderskizzen]

I forgot if I ever reblogged this or not but I'm reblogging it now as an excuse to talk about how much I need this to happen in someway in Chapter 3 or 4. It's basically my biggest wish for the upcoming chapters.

I'm in the camp of "Ralsei isn't Evil, he's just weird like that/ thinks it's all for the greater good if anything".

To recab a little, Ralsei has been alone his entire life as far as we know, so he isn't that well adjusted on how to act in social situations. His go to method of comforting is distracting from the bad stuff, or not mentioning bad stuff at all, which could very likely be because he doesn't really know how to handle it and just thinks "positivity=good, so better avoid negativity because that would cause distress, which is bad"

We also know that the legend, and the supposed purpose of darkners was kinda his life guideline, so to say. Ralsei thinks that his purpose is the legend and to serve the lightners, and he doesn't want to go against it. Be it because of Roaring, some other hidden thing/ plan we don't know of yet, or because he never knew anything else. What's important is: in Chapter 2 Susie began to challenge that mindest a little.

In the SweetCap'nCakes battle, Ralsei firstly insists that Kris, or us, is the only one who is allowed to act, maybe because it gives us a unique, irreplacable role, which could make us happy, but Susie forces him to learn R-Action anyway. When alone with us, Ralsei says that he learned from Susie that being yourself can be enough to be a friend but then adds that he doesn't actually know who he is as a person.

Which is why Kris being revealed to Ralsei as the person who made the fountain would be such a huge next step!

Now Ralsei actually is confronted with a situation where one of the people he trusted, and especially someone he is supposed to serve and be kind to no matter what, goes directly against his wishes. What is he supposed to do now? He could just put his feelings under a rug, and I Imagine he might even do that at first, but the important thing is that he has to deal with that conflict of being angry at Kris, but also having to stay supportive, which could even culminate in him expressing that disappointment, and defining himself as his own person who's feelings matter, and who isn't just a servant, even more.

I really need this for him.

I Imagine the legend and the roaring is in some way linked to the player, and if Ralsei learns to become his own person throughout the game, that could even lead to him potentially choosing to abandon the legend for the sake of his friends.

Or he won't, the important thing to me is, that the choice will be his own (because I love Ralsei as a character)

chapter 3 probably

[wcnderlnds]

opposites attract | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he's chaotic and loud, you're shy and introverted but he can't help but be intrigued by you ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: mentions of death bc squid game, nam-gyu is mean to reader (im sry), female reader. ・❥・ authors note: i love writing this chaotic man <3

Of course the second game just had to be one where you had to interact with people and find a team. Talking to people, approaching them – it was your worst nightmare. As you stood there in the sea of people all talking and teaming up, you timidly stayed in place, your hands pulled into the sleeves of your jacket giving yourself sweater paws. Since the first game, you had kept to yourself. You had even voted to leave. Why would anyone want to stay in a place like this where people were getting killed for losing children’s games? Unfortunately, the majority had decided to stay even after a heavily heated debate where player 456 had declared he’d been here before. While it was all kicking off, you had hid behind the crowd. Conflict was something you avoided. People were usually something you avoided but when a salesman came up to you with promises of money, how could you say no?

So, as you stood there, too shy to approach, you accepted the fact that you were probably going to die. There was no way you had enough courage in you to find a team. Even if you did, who was there to ask? The only person you might consider approachable was player 456 but he already had a team. There was no point going over there, asking and risking embarrassment as they turned you down. Aimlessly you wandered around the room, fingers toying with the ends of your sleeve – a nervous habit that you’d had since you were a child.

Guess you’d just have to accept your fate. You were either going to get killed because you couldn’t find a team or end up in a team who didn’t want you. Just as you were about to sit down and give up entirely, someone cleared their throat behind you. Spinning around, you came face to face with the infamous player 230. His purple hair was unmistakable, you’d seen him when he’d been fighting some other boy yesterday.

“Senorita, excuse me,” he said, his hands clenching his jacket to his chest. Your eyes landed on his multi-colored nails first before daring to glance up to look at him. Eyes met his dark ones for only a second before looking back down at the ground. He noticed instantly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “Team with us.”

“R-really?” You dared to glance back up. He seemed serious but the look his friend was giving was anything but friendly. It looked like he’d rather team with anyone but you.

“Yeah, really? She’s kind of weird,” Nam-gyu looked you up and down, pulling a face then turning back to Thanos. “We can find someo-”

“Shutup,” he held his hand up in front of his friend’s face, his eyes solely focused on you. “Team with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t like you had any other options so you nodded. Thanos seemed thrilled, throwing his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. Your instinct was telling you not to trust him but at the same time there was something slightly comforting about him. After all, he had ignored his friend to solely talk to you. Why on Earth he was so adamant to have you on his team baffled you but it saved you from getting eliminated… if you made it through the game anyway. 

Turns out it was five mini games in one. As the rest of your team argued about who would do what, Thanos’ eyes were fixated on you who was looking at the ground. There was something about you that intrigued him. The difference in your personalities was more than noticeable. He was loud, crazy and obnoxious while you, on the other hand, seemed shy, insecure and quiet. Maybe it was true. Maybe opposites really did attract because for some reason, he wanted to get to know you more. He actually wanted to know you. That rarely happened with him. Usually he was the type of guy to get a crush, fuck and then move on to the next one. It was rare for ‘Mr One Night Stand’ to really want to get to know someone. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. The pounding in his chest as he tried to examine you with his eyes. It was impossible to really get a good read on you.

“And, the loser over there can do Gonggi,” Nam-gyu’s voice echoed through your ears. Panic struck, you leaned forward, speaking before you even thought about it.

“I-I don’t know how to play Gonggi,” you mumbled.

“Better learn quickly then, huh?” Nam-gyu smiled fake-sweetly at you.

“Hey, stop it,” Thanos stopped his silent beat boxing to chime in, leaning forward to glare at his friend. “Leave her alone… What are you good at?”

“I can do spinning top. I played it a lot with my friends…” you tried to speak with a bit more confidence, a pink hue tinting your cheeks. Thanos noticed, grinning at you.

“Spinning top for you then. You’re cute, by the way,” he winked, causing your cheeks to only redden more.

Somehow, someway, the team had managed to survive. A lot of teams seemed to struggle with Spinning Top but you had got it the first try – Thanos almost blowing out your eardrums with the loud cheer of celebration when you did. Now, back in the main room, you were sat with the team. If it was up to you, you would have gone to sit by yourself but Thanos had insisted you sit with them. It seemed like he wanted to keep you around. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some friends, right? You sat beside Thanos, a space between you. While he was in a world of his own, DJing some invisible show in his head by the looks of his hand motions, the rest of the team were arguing. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them.

Watching everyone talk with each other so easily – even if it was arguing – made you feel slightly jealous that you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to because you did but the mere thought of striking up a conversation with anyone brought you too much anxiety. It was just better to keep to yourself. If you had to be the weird, quiet girl then so be it.

“They’re idiots,” the deep voice beside you said. Turning to look, you’d noticed Thanos had closed the distance between you both, his shoulder touching yours now. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you smiled, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me team with you.”

“No problem, Senorita. Told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” His toothy grin made your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. That was the last thing you needed.

“Y-yeah,” you laughed, tearing your eyes away from him yet again.

This time, his finger gently reached out, tilting your chin to look at him. His eyes pierced yours, a look of intrigue on his face. “You have pretty eyes. It’s a shame you think the floor deserves to see them more than me.” He leaned in a little closer, his hot breath fanning against your face. Being close to someone wasn’t new for you. It was something that didn’t happen often but you’d had your fair share of encounters with people. “Meant it when I said you were cute, babygirl. Stick with me through these games and when we survive, let me take you out for a drink. Maybe I can get more than a few words at a time out of you.”

Once again, he winked at you, removing his finger from your chin and turning his attention to the argument going on in front of him. Meanwhile you were in a daze, your heart beating against your chest so much you were sure it was about to beat out of your ribcage. Yeah, this man was definitely going to be trouble.

taglist: @angelofbooksworld @ldydeath @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @djarindroid @justsisse @sassyyoyo @lillyysgirlblog @mysatnin @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind

[souljahwwitch]

and now you closin’ the door because you don’t want me coming in

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ hc’s about having an argument with best friend! thanos

(no squid game in this!)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ the fight, stupidly enough, started because you were mad at him for doing too much drugs—you two were little junkies, for sure—but he went too far with it all.

“y’know you’re gonna die if you continue fucking around like this, it isn’t some joke—just because you have the money doesn’t mean you have to do all this stupid stuff-“ you yelled as he looked up at you, his pupils blown, smirk wide—it scared you and annoyed you ro no end

“says the girl who can’t sleep or eat without smoking, please—sweetheart we are the same.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ the fight basically evolved from there—who is he to talk to you like that when you wanted to help him?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ but he didn’t care, he was high even now—mocking you, making jokes out of this, so you just left him alone.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ it took some days for him to finally swallow his pride and knock on your door, he knew you were home, he could sense the faint smell of weed and that honey perfume of yours

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ it took him some courage to knock, and when he did—he waited for two minutes before you opened the door—he immediately started talking but the second he did, you just shut the door

“c’mon angel—open the door i wanna talk.”

“nope.”

“doll, please”

“nope.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ he sighed, he was infuriated-and he started leaving before he heard you open the door, you just stood there—looking down

“you gonna come in or make me wait like this?” you mumbled, hating yourself for giving in, but you cared about him afterall

“knew you had it in you, princess” he said, walking in your apartment, he couldn’t lose you, especially over aome stupid high—weed was enough, and he planned on never touching those stupid colorful pills if it made you unhappy.

[jo-speaks]

CROSSING PATHS

— right place, right time AU

summary: quinn meets an unlikely friend, and its owner.

warnings: none! wc: 1.6k

note: hope you guys enjoy this and the concept of this au :)

The captain was feeling incredibly overwhelmed- trying to find out why his team just couldn’t pull through in the end, no matter the amount of work and effort they put in at practice. It took a toll on him the hardest, his confidence going down the drain with every sound of the buzzer that announced their loss to the whole arena. 

While others would congratulate him regardless, giving him the whole, “You’re doing great.” spiel, he- for one- didn’t believe it, and two, he didn’t care for great. He wanted perfection. 

“Hun, get out of your apartment, forget about hockey for a minute.” His mother said over the phone after he had called her after a particularly tough OT loss, “It might clear your head a bit.”

Quinn groaned, his mother saying the impossible, “I don’t need a walk, Ma. We just need to win.”

Ellen’s laughter echoed throughout the apartment, “Q, you’ve got to unwind. I’m scared you’re going to blow up that head of yours.”

On some level, Quinn knew she was right. I mean, it was visibly obvious when his mind was running a million miles per hour. He hesitated before saying, “Fine. But if all I get from this is frostbite, you’re taking care of me.” 

“When am I not?”

Quinn let out a lighthearted laugh, saying his goodbyes before going to put his sneakers on and grab a warmer hoodie than the one he had on. He looked at himself in the mirror when he passed it in his hall, his hair disheveled and the exhaustion becoming more and more prominent every day. 

As he grabbed his door keys to walk out of the apartment, he briefly debated grabbing his hockey bag that sat next to his doorway and going to the rink instead. He quickly talked himself out of that idea, ultimately deciding that it would be counterintuitive to forget about hockey for a bit, whilst playing hockey.

~~~

Quinn made his way to the park nearby, settling on just walking wherever his feet took him instead of following an instructed trail. It was chilly, the Vancouver air surprisingly warmer than it had been in previous winters, but still cold enough to send a sharp shiver through his body. 

His eyes wandered as he let his senses become filled with the sounds of nature and the conversations of people passing by. Everyone looked so relaxed and carefree, giving Quinn a sliver of hope that he, too, would feel that way after a few hours here. 

He had become so entranced by his surroundings that his brain barely registered a voice quickly approaching that yelled, “Watch out!”

Quinn turned around, a sudden pressure coming down onto his lower stomach as a medium-sized golden retriever jumped on him with enough force to have him stumbling a bit, but not enough to knock him down completely. The animal’s tail wagged rapidly, its panting breaths reaching Quinn’s nose as it looked up at him. 

“Hey, bud.” Quinn cooed, petting its head, making the dog even more excited. 

You came up to him, leash around your waist as you panted, catching your breath before speaking up, “I am so sorry, she doesn’t normally do this.” He looked up, his jaw dropping slightly as he took you in. He noticed your hair had fallen out of your updo, now messily draped across your shoulders and back, your mascara running the slightest bit under your eyes due to sweat, but still keeping your lashes up and curled. But most of all, he noticed that gleam in your eyes that was a mix of joy and relaxation. 

The dog had now put her paws down fully on the concrete, beginning to circle around Quinn’s legs and even trying to go in between them before a snap of your fingers brought her back to those simple circles. 

“It’s okay,” Quinn muttered, trying to keep his composure as his heart thrummed rapidly in his chest. “Cute dog.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled, noticing her tail not slowing down in the slightest in his presence. “She seems to really like you, she’s not normally like this with strangers.”

Your words seemed to relax him a little bit, a grin appearing on his face as he squatted down, putting himself on level with the pup and rubbing her head, “What’s her name?” 

“Chilli.” You answered. 

Quinn gave you a look of confusion, “I was actually talking to her."

It took you a minute to realize what he had meant, but when it clicked, you let out a bubbly laugh that had Quinn’s head reeling, “Smooth. I’m Y/N.”

He gave Chilli one last pat before standing up, sticking his hand out like you were some lady in the office, “Quinn.” 

You shook his hand, laughing quietly at the formality before meeting his gaze fully this time, your brain registering his admirable features, which were all of them. 

The curve of his nose, his long lashes, and those eyes that reflected a look of relief. You caught yourself staring a little longer than you intended to, clearing your throat with a smile before looking down at Chilli. You hooked the link of the leash to her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t try this stunt again with another person. 

“Well, Quinn, if you’re not too busy, would you like to join us on the rest of our walk?” You proposed, growing enough courage to ask.

Quinn was sure his heart exploded. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” He said as smoothly as possible.

The toothy smile that appeared on your face after he agreed had a matching one on his face immediately after. The two of you started walking, letting Chilli lead the way as she walked ahead of you, sniffing the ground as she went.

It was a comfortable silence that fell between you and Quinn, but he wanted to know more about the mystery girl and her dog that walked beside him.

“So,” He began, “Why the harness instead of a collar?”

You turned your head to face him, “I’m not a fan of collars. I know I wouldn’t like it if someone was tugging at my neck. Plus, this gives me a little more control of her without having to pull at her.” Quinn hummed, “Do you work with animals?”

“When I have time, I volunteer with this local animal shelter a few minutes from here.” Your words registered in his mind, the conversation flowing smoothly. Before he could ask you something else, you chimed in first. “What about you? What do you do?”

He hesitated. He knew he couldn’t just say, “I’m actually a professional hockey player.” Unfortunately for him, he did say it out loud instead of keeping it in his head like he had intended. 

When he caught the words spewing out of him before he could stop them, he braced himself, ready for you to grill him about his career, and income, or even pull out your phone to google him to find out yourself. So what you said next shocked him a little bit. 

“Oh, that’s fun. Do you like it?” You asked calmly, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

He let out a breath of relief, “Uh, yeah. I mean, not a whole lot right now.” You tilted your head, facing him again, “What’s that mean?”

“My team’s in a bit of a slump right now and we can’t seem to win anything.” He explained vaguely, not wanting to let himself fall into a deep conversation about hockey with someone he just met.

Luckily for him, you didn’t press. You simply hummed and switched topics that had more to do with him rather than his job. 

The two of you walked and talked about anything and everything, and by the time you returned back to where you had started, Quinn felt as if he’d known you for ten years instead of just two hours. 

And by the end of it, he wasn’t thinking about hockey at all.

“Thanks for joining us, Quinn.” You announced.

Quinn smiled, “Thanks for asking. I really needed that.” 

You stood there a bit awkwardly as Chilli licked at his shoes, her way of saying goodbye before you verbalized it and said, “I’ll see you around.” turning to walk away from him and back to your apartment.

Before you could, Quinn stopped you, walking to your side again so you would stop and face him. He stared at you for a minute before snapping himself out of his daze, pulling out his phone, and asking, “Do you think I could get your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime.”

His pupils nearly shaped hearts when you flashed him another smile, a small giggle coming from your throat as you took his unlocked phone from his hands and typed in your number and name into it. 

“Thanks.” He cheesed, “I’ll text you.” 

You bit your lip innocently, “Can’t wait.’”

He bid you goodbye, relishing in the way you turned around to look at him when you were a good distance away. He smiled to himself before making his way back to the apartment. On his way, he went to his call logs and facetimed his mom yet again. 

“You okay?” She picked up with a look of confusion on her face.

Quinn nodded, the smile on his face indescribably giddy, “Thank you for making me come out here.” 

“You look a lot better now, what happened?” She teased, but there was a hint of relief in her voice as he looked… lighter. 

“I met someone.”

[terrestrialnoob]

Danny was far to used to needles to flinch when Mr. Alfred stuck him. His stupid DNA wouldn’t stay in tact long enough for them to verify his story, so he suspected either this would knock him out and he will be taken back out to where they’d gotten him or they’re being nice and putting him out of his misery quickly. If it’s the former, then he’ll have to find another way to survive- or a nice place to die. He didn’t get a lot of time to wander around Gotham before going to the GCPD, but dying in his… original’s city would at least be thematically valid. That’s what Mr. Lancer said about Danny’s analysis of Hamlet, that his “unique interpretation was thematically valid”, meaning Danny was wrong but did the work and would get a passing grade for turning it in. At least keeping it together long enough to continue existing would be the last thing he failed to do and his teachers wouldn’t have to worry about grading his thrown-together-at-the-last-minute bullshit.

“So, basically, since the only way to get a good sample of your DNA is to stop it from degrading, this is going to be a kind of two in one solution.” The man – teen? Red Robin didn’t seem that much older than Danny but it felt wrong not to think of him as an adult or at least older. He was obviously more experienced, smarter than Danny, and had been chosen as one of Batman’s sidekicks. “If you’re B’s clone, this modified, uh, kinda virus type thing will infect your entire body and basically, like, re-instruct your DNA on what shape it’s supposed to be. You know, Batman shaped. If you’re not B’s clone, then it will... do nothing and we’ll have to come up with something else.”

Danny stared at him, then at the band-aid now on his arm where he’d just been injected. “What?”

“Yeah, it’ll probably take a few days to actually be sure it’s working and we might have to re-administer it depending on your immune system’s reaction. But, if you’re telling the truth, then we did it!” Red Robin gave a little celebratory jazz hands.

Danny stared at Red Robin, then at the band-aid again. Something dripped into his arm and Danny was suddenly aware that he was crying. He hurried to wipe his eyes with his hand, “I – sorry, I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting…”

“It’s alright. This has been stressful for you.” Danny heard Batman say and someone managed to put a tissue in his hand to clean up his face.

“I’m not going to die.” Danny didn’t even realize he was talking.

It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t clear through his shaking breath, but Batman responded anyway. “You’re not going to die.”

Danny just kind of, curled up in himself, his face completely hidden behind his legs and arms, where the heroes of Gotham couldn’t see to hopefully save at least a little of his dignity. He wasn’t going to die, he was going to keep living. He didn’t know what to do now, but he was alive! He thought he could feel it already, that the aches and pains that had been slowly growing more intense over the past few months – his entire life – were fading. He could go back home to his friends at least, tell them the truth about why he’d left, let them know he wasn’t going to be more dead than he already was, give Jazz a hug and let her know her little brother wasn’t going anywhere. The Fentons – he could talk to them when he was ready.

It took him a few minutes to get back in control of himself, but once he was able to breath without shaking he looked up again. Red Robin and the guy who’d been with regular Robin where gone. Robin was still there, staring at him from across the room, and Batman was a few feet away, working on something else.

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Alfred said, but Danny was the only one who looked at him. “I’ve prepared a guest room.” The older man then turned to look at Danny. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Um, no?” Danny’s voice was hoarse from crying so much it made his face blush.

“I thought as such. If you’ll follow me, I’ve already prepared a small meal for you...” Mr. Alfred said with a small bow and then turned to almost fully face the back of Batman and spared a glance at Robin. “...all three of you, since the two of you left to meet with Commissioner Gordon before dinner was properly served.”

Danny cringed at having made them leave before they’d been able to eat dinner. He watched as Batman seemed to ignore Mr. Alfred, but Robin looked like he at least heard what was said.

“We’re going to-” Mr. Alfred cleared his throat making Batman stop and sigh, then he stood up from his amazing computer that Danny low key wanted to play with.

He slid the mask off his face. “We’ll be up, give us a minute to change.”

Danny tried not to stare at Batman’s bare face. He didn’t expect to see it, though he guessed he can understand why. It’d be Danny’s face eventually, but it still felt wrong. Danny was already being given so much trust; they’d brought him into their lair, weren’t being careful with names anymore, and now showing Danny this, letting him know Batman’s true identity, it was too much. But maybe- maybe Batman didn’t think the virus thing was going to work and Danny wasn’t going to live long enough to share it. Red Robin had said something like that. That they really weren’t sure their injection would work at all or that it might only work a little bit or maybe it reset the degeneration or something like that. That really made more sense than Batman trusting Danny this much. Still...

Danny followed Mr. Alfred to a small elevator that could hold two people comfortably, or four people uncomfortably. And Danny turned around to see Robin still directly glaring at him as the doors shut. There weren’t any buttons in the elevator, but it moved very fast and they were at the top in seconds. It opened to what looked to be an office with a big desk with a computer and bookshelves, but there were also two couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle – so it was like an office slash meeting room.

Mr. Alfred stepped out in front of Danny and motioned for him to follow. “This way to the dining room, I’ll be sure to give you the full tour once everyone has had dinner.”

“You really don’t have to. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Danny said, following behind him and trying not to get distracted by where they were. It was a big house, much bigger than his home – than the house he grew up in. And the further they got, the more it looked like it might be somewhere close to what Vlad’s house was. Maybe not the Cheese Castle, but the “little” mansion he’d gotten in Amity Park.

“It’s not a waste of time.” Mr. Alfred said and they started down a big staircase. “I think it will be important for you to become familiar the manor and grounds. It’s quite easy for people to get lost here.”

Danny wanted to say it wouldn’t really matter, that he was only staying long enough to satisfy their observation of him- make sure their efforts didn't go to waste. But, the tour would mean that Danny would know where he was and wasn’t allowed to go and he’d be able to stay out of the way easier while he was there.

They soon entered a large room with a giant table in it. There were several plates set and several dishes. “I assumed you have the same allergies as Master Bruce, but are there any extra dietary needs you require? Master Damian is a vegetarian so there are already options for it.”

“Oh, no, I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

Mr. Alfred nodded and pulled out a chair for Danny. “There is roast chicken and baked marinated tofu, rosemary potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a wild rice salad with tomatoes, red onion, red bell pepper, pine nuts, and a honey-lemon dressing.”

“Thanks. This all looks great!”

“It does.” Batman said as he entered the room. He was wearing normal clothes now, just a black sweater and gray pants. Robin came in behind him, he was wearing a dark green long sleeve shirt and normal looking jeans.

Danny suddenly realized he was in the seat next to the head of the table and that was obviously where Batman sat down. Robin sat across from him, still glaring, but Danny was starting to think the other kid might just have resting bitch face and Danny would either just get used to it or see Robin so little it wouldn’t matter.

Danny must have sat frozen for a little too long there, because Mr. Alfred leaned over the table. “Here, I’ll get you started, but usually this is a serve yourself household so that everyone gets what they want and as much as they want without shame or embarrassment.”

Danny just nodded and let the man do as he pleased. It felt kind of weird, sitting at a table and eating with his… He wouldn’t have said family, but that is technically what they were, right? Danny literally had Batman’s DNA in him, and Robin had called the man Father with a capital F, so that kind of made them brothers? Cousins? Uncle and nephew? Or father and- Danny cut that line of thought and grabbed the nearest eating utensil to focus on eating instead.

“Holy shit, this is good.” Danny said before he realized he’d said it. He looked at Batman. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

Batman shrugged it off with a smile, “It is good food. I often forget how spoiled I am with good food.”

Mr. Alfred hummed at that and, Danny felt more than saw, an exchange of looks between the two older men. Mr. Alfred probably deserved more appreciation for cooking like this and Batman didn’t think he needed to vocalize the appreciation, that it was simply understood he loved Mr. Alfred and all the work he did.

“So, you eat meat?” Robin asked. He seemed a little off-put by Danny taking some of the chicken after getting some of the tofu.

Danny shrugged. “I mean, I’ll eat anything that doesn’t attack me.”

Robin narrowed his eyes. “So should I attack you so you don’t eat me?”

“What? I’m not cannibal? What?” Danny said and looked between the other people in the room. Batman looked exasperated and Mr. Alfred looked half amused at Robin and half offended on Danny’s behalf.

“Then why do you need to specify that you prefer your food doesn’t attack you?”

“Because I... don’t most people prefer food that you don’t have to kill first?”

Robin gave him a sardonic look. “You have to kill all meat before you eat it.”

Danny shook his head, “No, I mean like – when you eat it. Like, you sit down to eat and then the hot dogs grow mouths and teeth and attack you so you have to kill it before you eat it.”

Robin’s glare turned into a shocked stare, and Batman and Mr. Alfred joined in staring at him. “What?”

“What do you mean “what?”?” Robin was annoyed at him. “Hot dogs do not come to life and attack people.”

Oh fuck. He’s ruined it. He doesn’t know what he’s ruined, but he’s too weird for The Batman. Danny started shoveling food into his mouth so he’d stop talking and freaking out Batman.

“How does that happen?” Batman asked and there goes Danny’s hope of being less weird.

Danny swallowed and waved his free hand around a little bit. “I – it’s just that my- the people I lived with before weren’t very good at keeping their specimens quarantined, and they also liked to experiment with food. So, just, sometimes the hot dogs or a turkey or other foods would just, come to life and we’d have to kill them.”

There was a beat of silence before Mr. Alfred asked, “And did you eat this experimental food?”

Danny half shrugged, “There wasn’t really anything else to eat, so yeah.”

Mr. Alfred hummed and it sounded like he might be worried. “I can assure you that nothing like that has ever happened here.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Danny said and, again, tried to eat his way out of the conversation. But it was too awkward. “But, Mr. Alfred, your food is way better than any of that stuff.”

“I would hope so.” Mr. Alfred said. “And feel free to take as much as you want, we have plenty.”

Danny hadn’t even noticed he’d cleaned his plate already. He was about to refuse, but the look on Mr. Alfred’s face made it feel like it would insult the man if Danny didn’t get seconds. So he did.

“What are their names?” Batman suddenly asked.

Danny glanced at him. “Who’s names?”

“You’re… creators.”

The one question Danny hated above all others; ever since he was a little kid who realized that his parents were the town weirdos and that their status as the town weirdos had spread to Danny before he even knew how to walk. He felt the unfortunately familiar mix of the heat from embarrassment and cold from the rejection experience made him know was coming. He wanted to look anywhere but at someone. “Why do you want to know?”

“They made a clone of Father.” Robin said with disdain, and yeah, Danny should have known that. He knows how much it hurts to be cloned. “What if they try again?”

Danny tried to sound as matter of fact as possible. “The Fentons, Jack and Maddie. They’re married to each other. And yeah, they do want to try again, but they used up all their Batman DNA making me.”

“They want to make another one?” Robin was somehow even more annoyed.

“Well, I mean, their first one was such a failure…” Danny half mumbled then sighed and added. "It’s why they want to autopsy me. So they don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

Danny spared a glance. Now Batman was glaring and Danny couldn’t blame him. He doesn’t know how widespread the Fenton name is, but if anyone knows them, it’s not because of how caring, thoughtful, or altruistic they are. And here Danny was, his very existence a violation so deep he wouldn’t blame Batman if he kicked Danny out right that second.

So Danny decided to give the man the opportunity to do that. “How long is the observation?”

Batman’s face quickly changed from angry to confused, so Danny reiterated. “You know, for the kinda virus thing? How long do do you want me here under observation?”

Batman still looked a little confused but went along with the change in topic. “It should take somewhere between two days and two weeks to be certain of it’s effects.”

Danny nodded. “That’s the range they estimated it would have taken for me to completely destabilize, so I can go back once it’s confirmed.”

“Go back?” Batman seemed more confused.

And that made Danny confused. “It’s not like I can stay here forever.”

Batman frowned at that, but Robin spoke first. “You want to go back to the people who want to autopsy you?”

“It’s either them or that guy I told you about earlier.” Danny said and indicated to Batman cause he thinks Robin might have been too far away to hear that part in the cave. "And it's not like they actively try to kill me - I mean, well, usually anyway. It's more of a -if I just so happen to die- type thing."

“Why not stay here?” Batman asked.

Danny couldn’t help the look on his face. Stay here? With Batman? The man he’s been secretly measured against his whole life? The person he’s failed to be time and time again? Danny’s not sure he could take that. “No, you don’t want me here.”

“Should you let us decide that?” Batman gave Danny a pointed look.

Danny shouldn’t answer that. He knows they wont want him. No one wants him. Even Vlad; he doesn’t really want Danny, he wants Maddie’s Son, he wants to steal Jack’s Son, he wants The Other Halfa. Danny knows that he’s just going to burden Batman and his family and the other vigilantes. But he’s not going to say that. He knows better than to argue about where he belongs.

What are you? A ghost trying to fit in with humans or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers?

So Danny folded immediately. “Sorry, you’re right. You get to decide who does and doesn’t get to stay in your house.”

Danny was looking at his mostly empty plate and didn’t see that statement earn him a frown from everyone else in the room.

Danny sighed and glanced over to Mr. Alfred. “I know you said you wanted to show me around, but I’m really tired. Can I just go to bed?”

“Of course.” Mr. Alfred said and motioned for Danny to follow him.

Danny didn’t talk, though Mr. Alfred gave him general direction on how to get from the dining room to the bedrooms, pointed out whose rooms were whose, let Danny know he had an en suite and a dresser full of clothes the other boys didn’t wear anymore. Danny hadn’t realized that Batman had such a big family and he wondered how they would feel after learning that Danny existed. He doubted any of them would accept him. He could hope one of them might want to be his friend, but he knows who he is, what he is. He wont hold any of their feelings against them.

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[lovebugism]

miss bug I have something to ask 🙋‍♀️

i don’t know if you do sickfics but! mayhaps steve and shy!reader where she doesn’t show up for school, steve goes to her house, and she’s utterly mortified because she feels like she’s nowhere near presentable

thank u for requesting!! — king steve pays his lab partner a visit when he hears you're sick, but definitely not because he has a crush on you (shy!reader, friends to lovers | 1.6k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Steve waits for you that morning with half a bagel and his heart in his throat.

The desks in Ms. Click’s class grow slowly full with bustling bodies — some sluggish like zombies, others too chipper for an early morning. Steve cranes his head in search of your face in the crowd. Yours never shows, which is strange for Hawkins High’s future Valedictorian.

“Where is your partner, Mr. Harrington?” Ms. Click wonders beneath the grating morning bell. She ducks her head to peer across the classroom over her sparkly, cat-eye glasses.

Steve pauses, mid-bite of his sausage-egg-and-cheese. He shrugs wordlessly, with a wad of food jutting his cheek and crumbs sticking to his mouth.

The older woman sighs, too used to King Steve’s antics. She looks past him and asks, “What about you, Miss Buckley? Where’s Carol?”

“Probably under the bleachers with Tommy Hagan,” Robin mutters under her breath, though loud enough for everyone around her to hear, causing them to bite back their subsequent laughter. Steve, himself, nearly chokes on his bagel.

“Well, you’ll just have to pair up with Steven for the day,” Ms. Click tells her.

“Oh, god…” Robin groans in a whisper.

“Get to work.”

Steve spins his chair around to face the girl behind him, who he only really knew because of how highly you spoke of her. Despite your frequent praises, Robin doesn’t even look at him, nor does she bother to make mindless small talk. She just keeps her head down and scribbles notes on a worksheet. 

Steve, in spite of their differing statuses, struggles to find the courage to talk to her.

He slouches and tilts back his chair. “Hey, do you, um—”

“We don’t have to make conversation, alright?” Robin interjects before he can even start. She keeps her head bowed but glares daggers from beneath her lashes. “Let’s just get this hour over with so we never speak to each other again.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Well, I was— I was just gonna ask where your friend was. ‘Cause I don’t think she’s missed a day since, like, kindergarten.”

Robin’s freckled face flushes. She’d feel worse about being so short with him if he wasn’t such a douchebag. “Oh. Uh, she’s— She’s sick, I think.”

“Sick?”

His chest pinches with an immediate worry. Robin bites back a smirk at King Steve’s palpable concern for arguably the biggest nerd on this side of Hawkins. “Yeah,” she shrugs. “I figured she was just allergic to your hairspray.”

Steve laughs under his breath and turns away. Robin smiles only until he looks back at her, now with a brown paper bag in hand. It was meant to be for you — an even piece of his bagel, ‘cause he knows you don’t get breakfast yourself. He figures you’d rather not want it to go to waste.

“Want my other half?” he offers to the girl across from him, like some kinda olive branch.

Robin’s eyes dart from Steve to the paper sack and back again. It goes against every code in her personal handbook to take anything from Hawkins Royalty, but she shrugs in response anyway. “What the hell. Sure.”

—————

Finding your trailer isn’t hard. He visited there, once, for a project at the beginning of the school year. It’s the house directly across from the Freak’s. Eddie made it a point to play his guitar as loud as he possibly could, knowing The Hair was around to hear it. (Munson would never miss an opportunity to annoy King Steve, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him).

Steve decides to make his entrance through your bedroom window. Dead, unmanicured grass crunches under his sneakers as he rounds your trailer. He rises to the tips of his toes and knocks four times on the high-up window. The old glass feels strangely delicate under his fist.

He waits for an answer for several long moments. When he doesn’t get one, he lifts his hand to knock again. The window squeaks open before he can — and there he finds you, standing above him, holding a half-empty box of tissues in your hand like you plan to hit him with it.

“Whoa—” Steve flinches.

You look equally shocked to see him, fear swimming in your glassy eyes. “Oh, my god—”

“Sorry,” he grimaces with his palms splayed in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something…”

“And what? You were gonna take me out with a box of tissues?” His laughter feels like warm honey compared to your splitting, icy migraine.

You take in a heaving breath and swallow hard through a stinging throat. “Sorry,” you sniffle. “Come— Come in.”

As Steve climbs through your window, trying hard not to get caught in the curtains, you become very hyperaware of your living space. It is your childhood bedroom, after all — every phase of your life is stored within these tiny four walls. Posters, trinkets, slightly dated decor. And on top of all that, you’ve been living like a total slob since you got sick over the weekend.

Your bed’s a mess, you’ve got bottled water and tissues piling in the bin, and you haven’t changed out of your pajamas in two days. It’s certainly no way to greet the king of Hawkins High, though he doesn’t quite seem to mind.

“You coulda just knocked on the door, you know?” you mumble, slightly nasally, as you swipe a balled-up tissue under your nose. “I would’ve let you in.”

Steve pants and stands to full height again, finally in your room with little to no struggle (though he’s pretty sure he’s stamped his footprint on your wall). 

“Well, what can I say? I like to make an entrance,” he jokes with a lopsided smile. The rosy expression fades when your glassy eyes glaze over with a faraway look. “…You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” you shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. “I’m just a little lightheaded. That’s all.”

Steve rushes to your swaying form without thinking. He grasps your arms in two wide, gentle hands. His honey eyes are wide and wild as they dart over your features, sufficiently bleary with whatever bug you’ve caught. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you insist despite the obvious. “Just can’t break this stupid fever.”

“Here. Lay back down.”

He guides you the short distance to your bed, foreignly patient with your sluggish movements. He keeps a hold of you with one hand and reaches for the mussed blankets with the other, pulling them back to ease you beneath them.

“Sorry for bailing on you today,” you apologize in nearly inaudible slurs as the boy props you against the pillows. 

Steve shakes his head with a quiet smile. “You’re sick. It’s okay. Stop apologizing,” he insists and tucks the covers on top of you again. You can smell his aftershave when he leans over you, a striking minty scent that melts nicely with his deeper cologne.

“Sorry,” you repeat before you can help it.

Steve rises again and fights the urge to brush the hair sticking to your clammy cheek. “Have you had any medicine?”

“I had some… cough syrup earlier…” you slur, face half-buried in the pillows.

“What about food?” he asks with his hand on his cocked hip. “Had any of that?”

“‘M too sick for food.”

Steve laughs and fills the gloomy room with sunshine. “You have to eat, babe. So you can get your energy back. That’s, like, science or whatever—”

His eyes widen, only then realizing his use of the nickname. His heart drops to his ass. He hopes he said it so quickly that you missed it. You seem to have, as sick as you are, basically half-asleep before him.

You’d heard it, though. The word alone has your delicate heart beating with a newfound fervor. You can’t tell if it’s killing you or bringing you back to life.

Steve starts rambling before he realizes it. “I can whip you something up, if you want. I make a mean macaroni and cheese— In the microwave, obviously, ‘cause I’m less likely to burn it that way. Did you know that you can actually burn pasta in the microwave? Yeah, I had to learn that one the hard way—”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you just sit with me?” you sniffle, eyes still shut. “Please?”

He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Yeah, of— Of course, yeah.”

The boy climbs into your bed with a lot less confidence than he’s used to. This is by no means the first time he’s been in another girl’s bed, but something about this one feels different. This time, he has to keep reminding himself to breathe. This time, his hands are all clammy and tingling with an anxiety he isn’t used to. This time, he feels so utterly unsure in his body that he doesn’t know how he became King Steve in the first place — let alone how he got here, next to you.

What’d an asshole like me do to deserve all this? his mind reels.

Your breath catches when the mattress dips under his weight. He sits over the covers, but still a lot closer than you thought he might, all things considered. You turn slowly onto your back to look at him without going dizzy again.

“You’re not scared you’ll get sick?” you croak, blinking up at him with sleep-swollen eyes.

Steve shrugs with his back propped against the headboard. “Not really. I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario— I get sick and have to be quarantined here with you? That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

His lips curl into a lopsided smile that makes your chest feel sparkly. You turn away and hide your own grin in the pillow. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” you quip, half-muffled in the cushion.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, never once taking his eyes off you. 

He can’t wait to kiss you when you’re better.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Series masterlist

"Okay, recap moment," you began, sitting at a table in the café with Rick, Folio, and Grace, the sun beginning to set outside and filling the room with hues of red and orange.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, he’s wanted to win you back," Rick explained again after taking a slow sip from his coffee, his voice tinged with guilt. "And he asked for my help, because apparently I’m his only friend."

"So, the psycho has been trying to get your attention all this time," Folio interjected, "and when Noah left for a couple of days, he thought it was the perfect opportunity to do something that would drive a wedge between you two."

"So, he had you leave him," you pointed to Rick, "in front of Noah’s house after he got drunk, knowing that the next morning, Noah would find him there and think I'd cheated on him."

Rick lowered his eyes, unable to meet your gaze. "Yeah... that was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew Noah would be hurt, and he knew that would push him away from you."

"Noah didn’t want to listen to what you had to say because he thought what happened with Hannah was about to happen again. And now, he feels awful because he thinks it's his fault—like he can’t keep someone who loves him around," Folio continued.

"And you feel guilty because if you had realized Jason’s intentions sooner, maybe you could have stopped this from happening," Rick added, concluding the chain of events.

"Wow," Grace remarked. "I still have so many questions."

"Yeah, me too," Rick agreed. "Like, why are you even still here? You had nothing to do with any of this."

"Hey! I work here too, okay?" Grace shot back. "I have every right to stay as long as I want."

“So,” you turned to Folio, disregarding the bickering between the punk guy and your friend, or whoever Grace was to you, “what do you think I should do?”

"Go to him," Folio urged. "Talk things through. Please. I can’t keep watching him like this. I don’t think he’s showered in two weeks."

Grace wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sorry," Rick apologized. "If I hadn’t helped Jason, maybe none of this would have happened."

"Well, that’s how things played out," you replied. "And there’s no turning back."

"But things can still be fixed if you both put aside your fears and have a real conversation," Grace encouraged.

Folio leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening. "Exactly. It might not be easy, but if you want to fix things, this is where it starts."

"I’m not sure he wants to talk to me," you said, your voice uncertain as you stared down at the table, trying to sort through your swirling thoughts.

Grace looked at you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, leaning forward onto the table. "We know he loves you, and you love him. And it’s so obvious you both are suffering now! If you go to him and tell him everything was part of Jason’s plan, and that his weird friend here explained how things really went down, he’ll listen. I promise you!"

Rick shook his head, smirking but with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Hey, weird friend to who, Barbie with black hair?"

Grace just rolled her eyes.

Folio sighed, but his voice grew more serious. "Look, trust me. Go to him, tomorrow. It’s been two weeks, and he’s starting to realize he let you go just because he was too scared. You can’t just sit around waiting for him to make the first move because he won't. He's in a depressive mood right now."

A silence fell for a moment as you thought about their words. Folio's eyes were sincere, and for a brief second, it felt like there was still a chance to fix things. You took a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling over you.

Finally, you nodded. "Okay," you said softly, "I’ll do it."

After Grace and Folio left, you and Rick stood outside the café, the cool evening air pressing against you as the sunset faded into the night. The streets were quieter now, the hum of the city barely reaching you.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets as he avoided your gaze. "I… I’m sorry," he said finally, his voice low. "I know you probably hate me right now for helping Jason, for being his friend. I know what I did was wrong. But he was the only friend I ever had, you know? And I just... I always did what he asked, because I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I kept helping him, I’d prove I was a good friend. But looking at it now, I see I was just blinded by that need to belong. I'm so fucking stupid."

You were silent for a moment, taking in what he said. It didn’t make you angry. Instead, a sense of understanding washed over you. You shook your head gently. "I’m not mad at you, Rick," you said softly. "I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just... you need better friends. Friends who aren’t going to pull you into things like this. Friends who won’t take advantage of your loyalty."

Rick’s shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted, but there was still a trace of guilt on his face. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness," he muttered.

"You don’t have to deserve it," you replied with a small smile. "People make mistakes. What matters is what we do after." You paused for a moment, thinking carefully about the next words you wanted to say. "You can come see me, us, at the café anytime. If you ever need to talk, or just... hang out. I'm sure Noah would like you too, you know? You punched Jason, after all."

He looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, as if your words were a relief he hadn’t expected. "Thanks. Really. I know I messed up, but I’m done following Jason. I’ve made my choice."

You nodded. "I’m glad to hear that."

Rick smiled, though it was a little uncertain at first. "I’ll come by sometime."

As you both turned to leave, you gave Rick one last look. "Thanks again, Rick. Take care."

And with that, you parted ways, but not with the same weight on your shoulders you had carried earlier. Things could get better—for both of you.

Noah sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, trying his best to smile as he tickled Luna, her giggles filling the air. It was a soft sound, the kind of laughter that once brought him a sense of peace, but now it felt like a distant memory.

He tried to focus on her, on her innocent joy, but the weight of everything pressing on him still felt unbearable. He could hardly summon the energy to keep up with her playful energy.

"Daddy! Knights don’t tickle princesses!” she said, holding up a finger as if to emphasize her point as she laughed.

"Oh really? So why am I doing that now?"

"Because you are a bad knight, daddy!"

Noah let go and finally dropped his hands to his sides, letting the kid breathe.

Luna, her tiny hands gripping his arm as she attempted to climb onto his lap, paused for a moment and looked at him with her big, innocent eyes. She tilted her head to one side, sensing that something was off. "Daddy," she said in her small, soft voice, "will Y/N come today?"

The question hit Noah like a punch to the stomach. He froze for a second, trying to think, his chest tightening as his mind raced for an answer. How could he explain this to her? How could he possibly tell his three-year-old daughter that the woman who had been a constant presence in their lives, the woman he had loved, was gone and might never return?

He forced a smile as he moved some strands of hair from her little chubby face, but it felt hollow. "No, sweetie," he said softly, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. "Y/N won't be coming here for a while."

Luna’s face fell for a moment, and Noah’s heart twisted at the sight. She didn’t understand, not fully. But she could already feel the absence. She blinked and then asked, her voice so innocent and hopeful, "Oh, is she on vacation?"

Noah nodded slowly, trying to hold it together. He swallowed hard, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "She’s on vacation."

Luna seemed to accept that answer, her small face brightening again, and Noah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Was he lying to her? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure it all out himself.

“Oh,” Luna said, her voice soft and wistful. “I wish I could go with her. I want to see the mountains with Y/N.”

Noah’s heart broke a little more as she spoke, the simple, innocent wish from his daughter ringing in his ears.

He looked down at her, her eyes filled with that pure, untainted hope, and he could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wished things were different, wished he could turn back time and make the mess he had created disappear. But all he could do now was nod, his voice filled with emotion as he replied, “Yeah… me too.”

His gaze fell on the beaded bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet Luna had made with you. She seemed so happy when she gave it to him, saying that you and she had one similar too that Noah couldn't say no. He wondered where you put yours. If it was lying forgotten at the bottom of a trash can or if he was on your wrist too and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking about you looking at it.

The pink was an extreme contrast to his tattoos in a way that made him smile and made his skin burn at the same time.

Luna didn’t seem to sense the weight of his words. Instead, she smiled brightly, her small hands gripping his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. “Maybe when Y/N comes back, we can all go to the mountains together, Daddy. And see bears.”

Noah’s throat tightened, and he could barely choke out a laugh. "Maybe," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little. “Maybe we can.”

That late evening, you were at home, the wind outside picking up, howling against the windows.

But then, through the noise, you heard something else—faint, almost drowned out by the gusts of wind. It was a soft whimpering sound. You froze, wondering if you’d imagined it. Another sound followed, louder this time, and it was unmistakable.

You quickly made your way to the door, heart racing. Was someone out there? You opened the door cautiously. The wind whipped around you, but you could make out something small huddling near the porch steps.

A tiny, scruffy ball of fur, sat there looking up at you. You bent down, your breath catching in your throat. A small puppy—probably only a few months old—was staring up at you with big, wide eyes, the color of dark amber. The fur on its body was matted and dirty, but you could tell that, despite its appearance, it wasn’t in horrible condition. It was skinny, too, ribs showing a bit too much through its dirty fur but it didn’t seem too malnourished.

You crouched down, reaching out cautiously, speaking in a soft voice, “Hey there, little one… where did you come from?” The puppy didn’t flinch, but tilted its head at you, studying you curiously, its little tail flicking.

“Do you have a home?” you asked again, more gently this time, hoping it could understand. It just stared at you, unblinking, before it started to shuffle forward, its paws making soft noises on the porch.

“Well, I guess you don’t have a place to go, do you?” you sighed, your heart already melting at the sight of the poor thing. The puppy continued its advance, slowly squeezing between your legs and making its way into the house. You blinked, surprised, but then a soft laugh escaped you.

“Okay, I guess you've already decided where you're going to stay,” you said with a smile, closing the door behind you. You watched the little creature wander inside.

You paused for a moment, your mind spinning with what to do next. You glanced around the small space, eyes landing on the kitchen. Your fridge. Maybe there was something you could feed it.

Opening the fridge, you found some leftover chicken, cooked and ready to go. Without hesitation, you grabbed it, placing it down on a plate for the pup. You watched as the little dog immediately pounced on the food, devouring it in a matter of seconds, the sound of its chewing filling in the silence of the house.

As the dog finished, you crouched down beside it, rubbing its back, and you finally understood the puppy was a male. “What now, little one? You just going to stay here with me?” you asked, your voice soft.

The dog responded with a loud, excited bark, his tail wagging furiously as he jumped up in front of you, as if to say “Yes, please!”

You chuckled lightly. “Guess that’s a yes,” you smiled, patting the puppy’s head.

“Alright then, you can stay with me for now.”

Without thinking twice, you picked the little thing up, holding him carefully in your arms as you carried him toward the bathroom.

You turned on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water, and carefully set the puppy down.

You took your time, softly scrubbing the dirt out of his brown and black fur.

Just as you were finishing up, the puppy suddenly shook his body, spraying water everywhere. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, the tiny creature soaking your clothes and the bathroom floor, but you didn’t mind. The laugh felt good, like a release, like a bit of normalcy in the chaos that had surrounded you lately.

“You really know how to make a mess, huh?” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand as the dog looked up at you, his fur dripping wet and his expression utterly adorable.

After a few more moments, you helped the puppy out of the tub and wrapped it in a towel, rubbing it gently to dry it off. He seemed to enjoy the attention, snuggling into the towel as if it had finally found a safe place. You sat on the floor with him for some moments.

Then, you looked down at the tiny creature, now dry and warm, curled up on the towel beside you, his little eyes closing in contentment. “You're a good boy,” you said softly, smiling as the puppy let out a quiet yawn.

That night, he whined until you picked him up and let him sleep in the bed with you, his body pressed close to yours, keeping you almost as warm as Noah's had.

The next morning, before going to the café, you left enough food and water around for the dog before heading out, promising to think of a suitable name for him.

When you were at work, it had started raining, and when you stepped out of the coffee shop during the afternoon, it hadn't stopped yet.

The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes as you reached your car.

The city streets were slick with water, and the dull hum of distant thunder echoed in the sky, but you barely noticed. Your mind was consumed with the need to reach Noah. You had to. You had already waited too much.

You got in, slammed the door, and turned the key. Nothing. You tried again. And again. The engine sputtered but refused to start, the engine light flashing mockingly at you in the dark interior. Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath and tried once more, but the car just refused to cooperate. It was as if the universe itself had decided that this was not the night for you to see Noah, that fate was conspiring against you, and all the progress you'd just made would come crashing down.

"This is ridiculous," you muttered, staring helplessly at the wheel. Frustration surged inside you, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. The rain was pouring harder now, and everything felt like it was falling apart.

But then, in that moment of frustration, something shifted inside you. You wiped your damp face with the back of your hand and exhaled, steadying yourself. This wasn’t the end, not yet. You weren’t going to give up this easily.

Noah was waiting for you. Even if maybe he didn’t know that. You couldn’t afford to let something as trivial as a car breaking down stop you.

"Fine," you whispered to yourself, the determination in your voice solidifying. "I’ll walk."

Without another thought, you opened the door, slammed it shut, and stepped back out into the pouring rain. The streets blurred with each step you took, your soaked clothes clinging to you as you began your journey toward Noah, your mind set on one thing: You needed to see him.

The rain was hitting the ground in heavy, unrelenting sheets, turning the streets into rivers when you reached Noah's house. The sound of it pounded against your ears, drowning out everything else. You stood there, drenched to the bone, the cold water soaking through your coat and clothes, your hair was wet, dripping down and sending a chill through your neck, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to Noah.

Nothing mattered except Noah.

The cold air pressed against your skin, your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts spinning.

You reached the front door, the familiar house looming before you, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Not when everything had been shattered, and the quiet that hung between you two was almost suffocating.

Finally, you pressed the doorbell, the sound of it echoing louder in the still night than you had anticipated. The seconds felt like hours, and then, the door creaked open.

There he was, standing in the doorway, but he wasn’t the same Noah. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, and his face was drawn. The person you had known—the one who laughed with you late at night, the one who made you feel safe—felt distant now, a ghost of the man you had loved.

He looked at you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence as the rain kept pouring all around you. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t even move. You couldn't read him, it was like he was trying to keep you at arm’s length, afraid that if you got too close, you might shatter him further.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. What could you even say? How could you explain what had happened, explain how everything had fallen apart because of one man's manipulation? You knew this was your fault, too.

“Noah,” you said, voice shaky as you finally met his gaze. “I... I need to talk to you. Please.”

His expression remained overall hard, a wall that you couldn’t break through, not yet. He looked down for a moment, his jaw tightening, as if he was fighting the urge to turn away from you.

But when he looked at you, his eyes were soft, as if despite everything he couldn't look at you with anger.

"What?" he muttered, his voice strained, as if a single word was causing him physical pain.

You took a deep breath.

"Ever since Jason came back to town, I—I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. I thought that chapter was closed, that he was a thing of the past, that I was done with him. And I was. Because I love you and I'll always love you and only you. But he wasn’t done with me. I should’ve known. And I... I was too fucking stupid to realize he never wanted to let me go. Not really. He wanted to win me back, to tear us apart, and I was blind to it."

He just stared at you, so you kept talking. Seeing him like that was absolutely breaking you.

"He asked Rick for help, a friend of his that understood he was doing something wrong and talked to me. And Rick, he... he just wanted to be a good friend. He didn’t understand. But Jason—he used Rick, manipulated him, got him to leave him drunk in front of your house, knowing that I would let him in because I am too fucking srupid and too fucking nice. He knew that you’d think I cheated on you. Knowing that you’d be hurt, that you'd doubt me, that it would rip us apart. He had everything planned. And I—I let it happen. I didn’t even see it coming. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late, until I saw the way you looked at me like I let you down like your ex. And I've never wanted that.

And now... now I’m standing here, soaked to the skin because I always forget to bring an umbrella with me and because I care about you, trying to find the right words, but there’s no easy way to explain this. No way to take back the pain I caused you. No way to undo what Jason did. But I need you to know this... I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought I could love someone.

And I’m so fucking sorry for the mess I’ve made and for letting Jason ruin everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t see what Jason was doing. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was losing you, that I was pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.

I love you more than I ever knew how to say. I love you more than anything. And I need you to know that, to believe that, because it’s the truth. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I miss you. And I miss Luna. And I miss the family we built. The three of us. And if you can find it in your heart to forgive me... I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. But please, Noah, don’t let me lose you. Not like this. Not because of an asshole who thought he had power on someone else's love."

After you finished confessing, Noah looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern for a moment, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered over your drenched form. "Why are you completely soaked?"

You couldn't help but smile softly, a little amusement tugging at the corner of your lips, despite the moment. "My car wouldn’t start," you replied, trying to sound lighthearted, almost as if it was a silly inconvenience. "So I walked."

Before you could say anything more, Noah’s expression softened even more, and without another word, he stepped forward in the rain. His lips found yours with a sudden intensity, and it was like everything else melted away. You smiled against his mouth, the taste of him so sweet, so right, that it felt like you could stay in this moment forever.

You had longed for the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his tongue dancing with yours, and the comfort of his arms wrapped around you for days.

His hair clung to his forehead as the rain soaked him through, and without thinking, you reached up to brush it aside, your fingers grazing the damp strands as you continued to kiss him, your hearts racing in sync. It was perfect. It was real. The kiss lingered, deepening, as if neither of you wanted it to end, until the air between you both ran out and you both pulled back, gasping for breath.

Noah’s hands were still on your hips, pushing you close to him.

His voice was low and vulnerable as he whispered against your lips, "I’ve dreamed of this moment for fifteen nights. I thought you hated me..I'm sorry I told you to leave. I was scared to lose you and so fucking jealous. I've never wanted you to leave. I love you.

I loved you from the first moment I walked into the café with Luna barely able to speak, when she raised her little hand to say hi. She didn't do it with anyone. But she did it with you. Maybe she also understood at that moment that you were going to be the most important person in both our lives."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth flooding back into your chest at the sound of his words. "I’ve walked in the rain for forty minutes for you," you murmured, your voice soft but full of certainty. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all."

He chuckled, the sound of it wrapping around you like a warm blanket. God, you'd missed that sound so bad. "I’d say I don’t hate you at all either," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips, and then he kissed you again, softer this time, as if savoring every second, every drop of rain falling around you both.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[zolo-san]

I know I just rambled in the tag, but if you took the time to read all that, might I direct you to this post & my ramblings there as well~

Something about Zoro being one of the most misunderstood and mischaracterized characters in One Piece is funny (not haha funny, funny sad) to me because?? That’s literally how his introduction starts?? With people misunderstanding him and thinking he’s some big, monstrous demon who kills with cause and cannot be trusted or tamed.

Meanwhile the actual Zoro is a driven guy who is often both literally and figuratively directionless in life and found his goals in life through good people (first Kuina and then Luffy). He's tied up in the Marine base not due to those actual crimes he commuted (well not inherently anyway) but because he ‘disrespected’ a Captain's son and stood up for a little girl. He accepts the challenge they present to him and because Zoro himself is a guy that puts his money where his mouth is he assumes the Marines will uphold their end of the deal and let him go (note the actual shock when Koby tells him the truth)

He joins Luffy's crew but also outright says he’s not gonna let his goal take second place to Luffy or anyone else's for that matter, he bears the weight of two people's dreams, his heart isn’t going to be swayed by some pirate.

Speaking of Kuina, her impact and influence on Zoro's life isn’t talked about enough for my liking. She was Zoro's first friend, his first rival, his first goal. He looked up to her so much and his reaction to her passing cracks my heart in half every time because you can seem him just..go numb. Kuina, dead? Kuina, the strongest person he knows, gone? Kuina, who swore to him just yesterday they’d race to the top of the world together, doesn’t exist anymore. His blank face only cracking within the privacy of his sensei before he begs. He begs on his knees, tears streaming down his face please please please let me take Kuina's sword with me. Let me take our dream to a high neither of us could imagine. I won’t let her name die here.

On top of gaining the Wado Ichimonji that day Zoro also gained…fear. Not of death, well at the very least not his own, he gained his fear of not being enough. Kuina kicked his ass every way a person could and still died, what could someone like him do? So he trains…and trains…and trains some more. Overly, obsessively, constantly telling himself he’s not enough, he’s weak, he can’t protect anyone like this and everyone's death would be on him.

As for Zoro being cold and stoic that’s just…not completely true? He’s not stone, he can be excited or sad or angry just as much as most characters he just sucks at showing it canonically (Kuina thinks he hates her before their final fight after all). Sure he’s not as forthcoming about it as some of the other Strawhats but Zoro's more of an action guy anyway, he'll show his love with his protection and unwavering faith.

In conclusion, Zoro is a ridiculously stubborn, incredibly loyal, mildly emotionally constipated, do what you say/say what you mean kinda guy.

(Also that whole ‘Zoro would kill the whole crew if Luffy asked him to’ thing? Top ten stupidest things I’ve ever heard from the fandom and that’s saying a lot. He’s loyal not brainless and heartless guys if Luffy asked him to do that, he would never but I digress, Zoro would square the fuck up with him so fast. DPMO.)

[thedisablednaturalist]

Apparently federal employees are the new scapegoat for the downfall of the United States..because we have more holidays and sick leave (which is still less than what other countries have) than most working class folks... Guess I'm part of the ruling class now guys 😔

[natalievoncatte]

“She’s dying.”

Cait looked up from the spread of paperwork on her desk -no one told her that seizing sold command of the city as a military dictator would involve so much paperwork- and found Loris standing in her doorway.

“I was under the impression that you’d handed in your badge and left the force.”

“She’s dying.”

Cait said nothing, scratching at one of the papers with a pen, signing off on something that most certainly did not require her attention.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She looked away, but still he dared throw a broad shadow across the room, across her.

“Yes, you do.”

Cait let out a low, rasping sigh, a deep gurgle of frustration in the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into her desk and she itched to hold a gunstock in her hands. She was tired of these problems, she was tired of challenges she couldn’t just shoot, like Ambessa ramping up the pressure to lead a full-strength incursion into the Undercity to clear the Lanes. Rooting out the chem barons hadn’t been ending, it turned out, as they were almost a stabilizing influence and… and she had seen artwork of Jinx, the people of the Lanes seeing her as some kind of folk hero.

“She disobeyed my orders and abandoned our mission. Because of her, Jinx escaped. Trusting her was a mistake.”

“Not how she told it.”

Exasperated, Cait spun, ready to order him to leave lest he end up in Stillwater himself, but then she froze. Is that how she handled her problems now, by locking then up in dungeons without a trial?

How had it come to this? She finally had the authority she craved in her hands and yet it seemed every move she made worsened the very problems she’d dedicated her life to solving. She had almost died to show the city what the Enforcers could be, had pleaded with the Council to show the Undercity grace, to recognize what their people and their government had done to their neighbors… and now she was the Council, and how would she now receive those same pleas she’d once made?

Loris regards her coolly. The big man held his cards close to the vest, didn’t show emotion, but during their strike raids he’d taken on a protective role over all of them, the oldest member of the team. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a mentor, or even a friend, he was her subordinate, but she did respect him.

“She’s been making her way fighting in the pits. She fights all day and drinks all night, barely eats, barely sleeps. By the time I left I don’t think she’d eaten I three days and she lost two straight bouts to jobbers. It’ll kill her soon enough, the bottle or an opponent with something to prove or just some random thug with a knife. Is that what you want?”

Cait kept her face schooled, her posture prim. How dare he speak to her so frankly?

The trembling in her legs, she couldn’t fight, nor the impulse to worry her lip with her teeth. She suddenly felt five years old again, confessing some petty transgression to her mother. What would her mother think of what she’d done?

“What are you suggesting.”

“We bring her home. Go in, get her, get out through the vents. Quick and quiet, no uniforms. Just us.”

Cait hesitated. This could be a trap- some wannabe ruler of the Lanes might have put him up to this to lure her into the Undercity to be dealt with directly. No, she wasn’t that much of a fool.

Her jaw twisted. Good gods she’d have someone tasting her food next. What was she turning into?

“We need someone else to watch our backs. Maddie.”

Loris nodded. “Sooner we go, the better.”

“I’ll ready myself now.”

“You’ll need a disguise.”

“I have one.”

Cait hadn’t worn these clothes since the night she lay on her bed, sharing secrets with Vi, trading gentle touches. If she had to pinpoint a moment that she’d fallen in love with Violet it was the gentle way she took Cait’s hand and pressed it to her cheek, such adoration in her eyes.

What had she done?

The three of them stole into the Undercity the same way they had as a team- the ventilation shafts. Loris knew the way.

As they worked their way through the always and twisting warrens of Zaun, Cait could only think of the first time she’d come here- scared and trying to put on a brave face as she rushed after the brash, confident brick wall of a woman she’d followed here, desperately hoping that her sudden conviction that it was a terrible idea was wrong.

It actually turned out worse than a terrible idea. She’d almost been blown up, had been kidnapped, almost murdered by Silco’s men if not for Vi punching out an entire tower structure.

It had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“We’re here,” said Loris.

“It looks like they dump bodies here,” said Maddie, looking up at the tenement.

“Shut up,” Cait snapped, remembering something similar she’d said once, not knowing the reverent meaning the place held for Vi.

Loris looked up at one of the windows.

“We’d best hope she’s here. If she’s not we’re going to have trouble.”

“Lead the way.”

Cait kept her head down and her hood up -they’d all be killed if she were recognized- as the trio made their way up. Vi was living in a flop house. All around were Shimmer addicts. Cait felt her gut seize as she saw them trembling, pale and sweaty and rubbing at sores.

She had taken away the chemical that kept the worst of it at bay for them, but then what had she done? Just smashing the chem barons didn’t reverse the harm they’d caused. The addicted were still here.

When they reached Vi’s room, Loris knocked and the door swung open, unbarred.

At first, Cait thought this a mistake, or that Vi had moved on, but then she realized the broken form lying on the narrow, sweat-stained bed was Vi.

She’d lost weight, and was pale as a sheet except for the profusion of bruises and scrapes that covered her back and arms. There were bottles and broken glass strewn about everywhere and the wall mirror was shattered, as if from a punch.

Cait, forgetting herself, rushed to Vi’s side and knelt by the bed.

“Vi? Vi? Vi, wake up.”

Glassy eyed, Vi didn’t seem to see her.

Swallowing hard, Cait probed, quickly checking her over for injuries.

She had a broken rib at the very least. Fuck!

“Vi?”

“Cupcake?” Vi murmured. “Are you real?”

“Cupcake?” Maddie broke in. “Is she hungry?”

“Shut up,” Cait hissed. “We have to go, we’ve been here too long already.”

“Let’s get her to the vents and back topside,” said Loris.

“Help me carry her,” said Cait.

“I’ve got her,” the big man said.

Something in Cait crumbled when she saw how easily he lifted Vi from the bed. Cait pulled her hood low and they swaddled Vi in what they could find, scrambling to avoid notice. Cait’s heart pounded with every step and she was sure they’d be spotted and mobbed and Zaun would be parading the body of the Commander of Piltover around the streets by morning.

Somehow, they made it. As the approached the bridge crossing, Cait her the sounds of rifles racking and threw back her hood.

“Get out of my way,” she snarled.

Her Enforcers obliged.

“Where are we taking her?” said Loris.

“Home.”

As soon as she was able, she arranged for transport and Loris lowered Vi onto a stretcher. It might have been better to conduct her to a hospital, but Cait would have none of that.

She took Vi home, had her men lay Vi in her bed, then harshly ordered them out.

“Thank you,” she said to Loris and Maddie.

The former nodded curtly and left. Maddie lingered for a moment, her eyes searching the room before she slipped out as Cait asked her to find her father.

Tobias appeared. Maddie did not join him, for which she was grateful.

Cait said nothing and her father kept his own council just as readily. They hadn’t been speaking much, the heartfelt talks and reminisces drying up as Cait threw herself into her work. She could sense her father’s distaste but above all else, he was a doctor. Cait waited as he made his examination.

Finally he said, “her torso will need binding for the broken rib, and those cuts will be needing treatment. She’s been drinking.”

Cait nodded.

“The withdrawal will be terrible for her.”

Cait nodded vigorously, biting her lip as she looked down at Vi.

“I’ll see to bringing in some nurses to help me. Stay back, and let us work.”

Her father called upon his own staff from the hospital and soon Vi was surrounded.

With all her authority, Cait could do nothing but watch as Vi’s ribs were bandaged for support. She didn’t wake through any of it, even as her body jerked while her wounds were cleaned and Cait herself unwound her wraps.

Her father ran a line into Vi’s arm and hung a bottle of fluids.

“I’ve started her on normal saline and a nutritional supplement, antibiotics to be administered every twelve hours on the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“I did it for you.”

Cait was not prepared to be alone with Vi but it happened anyway. She sat by the bedside and watched Vi breathe, her chest rising and falling steadily. She would call names in her sleep: Mom. Vander. Powder.

Cait.

Cait. Cait. Cait.

Vi called her name like a prayer, voice that of a lonely searcher calling out in the dark.

“I’m here,” Cait whispered, “I’m here, Vi. Just open your eyes.”

Hours stretched into a day, two. Cait was slumped in her chair when it happened, using her cape as a blanket.

“Cait?”

Her voice sounded different, somehow more coherent. It took Cait a stunned moment to realize that Vi was looking at her.

“Where am I?”

“I brought you home.”

Vi grunted as she started to sit up. Cait jolted to her feet and pressed her back down, gently.

“You’ve a broken rib, and the withdrawal.”

Vi fell back into the pillows.

“You should have left me where you found me, Cupcake.”

“I never should have left you at all.”

[torchwood-99]

Eomer and Eowyn only talk to each other once in the films

but they communicate so much.

When Eomer first returns with a wounded Theodred, an entire dialogue is shared between Eomer and Eowyn without a single word passing between them.

This mutual look of concern, they're both on the same page.

Eowyn then goes on to look at Theodred's wound. It's interesting that Eomer now looks curious above all things, he's waiting on Eowyn's judgement.

Eowyn looks at the wound and grimaces. It's bad. Theodred isn't going to survive this.

She looks to Eomer, who looks back at her in grim resignation.

They go to Theoden to inform him of the situation. As Eomer walks by Eowyn, he doesn't speak to her or interrupt her, but he puts his hand on her back as he passes. Even when the focus is on other things, he is giving her that gesture of support and fondness. That it is done without fanfare shows that this sort of affection is commonplace.

They both stand before the throne, both of them united in their attempt to reach through to their uncle. They're a team, a unit.

Eomer throws down proof that Saruman, who Grima is trying to protray as a friend to Rohan, is sending his soldiers to terrorise their people.

Eowyn gives Grima a death glare, challenging him to refute her brother's accusations. She's on Eomer's side, Eomer's team.

Eomer sees Grima looking at Eowyn, and knows what he wants. It fills him with fury.

Eowyn sees her brother choking Grima against the wall. She looks on in cold silence, then walks away.

When Aragorn reveals that the beacons have been lit, Eowyn rushes into the throne room, drawing to a stop at Eomer's shoulder. They wait together for Theoden's judgement.

When it comes, and Theoden sends Eomer to muster the troops, Eomer bows, but even before he has fully straightened up, his eyes go to his sister.

Again, no words exchanged, simply a look of common understanding. They both know what the risks are, they both know what is at stake, for the world, for their country, for their family.

Before Eomer leaves, he touches Eowyn's arm, before walking away.

With Eomer gone, we see a steely determination come into Eowyn's eyes. Now there's something Eomer's missing, now Eomer's back is turn and there's something about sister that she's keeping from him. She's riding to battle.

The one time they speak to each other, they're in opposition. About Merry, about Eowyn, about war.

The words are harsh. Eomer is stern, Eowyn is defensive.

But Eomer puts his hand on Eowyn's shoulder. He doesn't say "I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want you in battle", but that hand on her shoulder, tells the audience that's exactly what he's saying.

Those small moments of physical affection culminate in one great moment, when stern, stoic Eomer discovers Eowyn on the battle field, and breaks down in tears, cradling her and rocking her like she's a child.

And his devotion to her ultimately shown in him sitting small and hunched, tucked in on himself, crouching down in armour for what seems to have been a lengthy space of time, as he sits by her side, waiting for her to be healed.

This is such an effective way of showing to an audience that two characters love each other, when there is a limited time window. The movie needed to crack on to cover the ground it needed to cover, and with so many important dynamics to reveal to the audience, the creators needed to be time effective. Eomer and Eowyn don't share much screen time, but the looks exchanged, the passing moments of intimacy, tells us clearly that these are two people greatly fond of each other, and have been fond of each other a long time.

The lack of spoken dialogue almost enhances it. Little is said between them because little needs to be said. They already know. The one time they do speak, it's when they're quarrelling, because that's the only moment when they need to use words. The rest of the time, a gesture, a look, is enough.

[drdemonprince]

Can u talk about the process of replacing your desire for unhealthy relationship dynamics that were sexually exciting with desire for explicitly negotiated kinky sex? or do I just need to wait for the essay lol

It's not actually in the piece but now that you mention it, it could make for a really strong narrative turning point.

It started by me cheating on my abusive partner with kinky people! I realized at some point during a two-year relationship in graduate school that was extremely toxic that I was so addicted to my partner because I was getting off on the control he exerted over my body and life. I wanted to get away from him, but I felt utterly dependent on how he made me feel, and he was already cheating on me...so I hopped onto OK Cupid and started flirting with some people.

It made me feel good, it made me feel like I could live on without him and build a new life for myself. I had a few fairly vanilla hookups with people at first, and it didn't do much for me, but one of those casual partners became a lifelong friend. Then a sexy, bombastic stand-up comedian who was just coming up in the local scene slid into my inbox, allured by the fact I described myself as shy. He was pushy and hyperconfident, which I liked. And when he asked me what kinks turned me on in bed, the truth came spilling out: Dom-sub.

(I wish I'd had the gall to tell him hypnosis, which had been a lifelong fetish of mine. This guy would prove to be fascinated by rare and niche kinks, but I was too ashamed of my hypnosis thing to tell anyone at that point).

The stand up comedian started domming me after that. He'd make me pay for his cab, throw me over a chair, finger me, and fuck me in the ass hard while biting my back and leaving massive welts. The sex was incredible. But he was also an egotistical 21-year-old with an active heroin addiction (he swore up and down to me that the drug 'wasn't a big deal'), and he started fucking me without a condom without my consent, which was traumatic and to this day is the reason I rarely receive anal sex. Ultimately he became controlling and jealous of my other (abusive) primary partner, and he left me, and then died of a heroin overdose after sending me a few more stray messages recounting good old times.

It was a mess. But I learned a lot about myself through this encounter, and practiced articulating what I wanted for the very first time. I was mistreated, but I also had incredibly hot sex that I still revisit in my mind's eye. I know for a fact that this stand-up comedian reviewed our own chat messages shortly before he died, and that he remembered those times fondly too. I feel bad that he died so young, and was so lost and confused, and I wish that he could have survived long enough to get better and make amends.

After that experience (and after escaping my primary abusive relationship), I got into a very safe, vanilla relationship for many years. I was too traumatized for anything else, and the gentle, passive boyfriend that I found was very healing to be with. But eventually I did get bored with the sex, and his lack of emotional availability, and became profoundly depressed. It was around this time that I started taking Sam-E , an over-the-counter anti-depressant supplement whose side effects include increased libido and a kind of dreamy headspace. On impulse, I started searching for erotic hypnosis play websites one day.

I met several hypo-kinky partners on the site I found, a now-defunct chat site called Sleepychat that would pair hypnotists with hypno-bottoms. One of them was a truly skillful, communicative, and caring partner who built a whole complex hypnotic architecture and series of safeties and triggers in my mind. We are still friends. I had lots of play with lots of people, and started attending a hypno kink convention that just so happens to occur in the Chicago suburbs. I became gradually more comfortable acknowledging my kinks to people, and made lots of hypno-kinky audio files and stories. I had other Doms and owners, and had lots of wild sex here and there. Still, my serious, long-term vanilla relationship limited me.

I only really started searching out formally kinky relationships in earnest in 2021, after ending that vanilla relationship. I've been pretty firmly embedded within a variety of kink scenes since. My taste for hypnosis led me to regular D/s, and to leather and bondage, and to pup play and furry stuff. I've really come alive in the last handful of years. I've learned so much about myself and the many scenes, met so many people, had so much great sex and so much mid sex and been in all kinds of wonderful and toxic and off putting and funny dynamics. This aspect of my life only keeps getting better, and I'm excited for lots of new experiences this year!

damn i just about gave you a full essay right here

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

most underrated milex moment in your opinion

oooh great question! honestly SO many moments come to mind, but for me i think the prize has to go to this one: alex watching miles perform in 2012 (and miles dedicating colour of the trap to him “this one’s for you, baby!”)

i mean. his expression just says it all, doesn’t it? the quiet wonder, the awe. the total and complete focus, the adoration bordering on worship. it’s… a lot 😭 i also think this moment of alex watching miles performing during their 2016 tour together is WILDLY underrated for just how loud and just how non platonic it is:

then i feel like this moment of them full on having a little kiss during rockwave isn’t talked about as much as it should be???

and also the entire subtext in the bad habits music video. like we talk about how insane miracle aligner is (because it is), but i don’t think we talk enough about how fully deranged the narrative implications and cinematography in bad habits are too 😭🤦🏻‍♀️

i feel like there are so many casual touches between them which are underrated too for how totally, totally non-platonic they are. like they touch each other casually in places that are just inherently so intimate and romantic, not at all the kind of places you’d touch friends. SO many examples of this, but these are two of my favourites:

finally, this award acceptance speech. they’re so ridiculously besotted and wrapped up in each other it’s borderline unbearable to watch lol. alex really wasn’t lying when he said it’s rare for them not to look like they’re about to snog each other 🫠 (here they look like they’re two seconds away from doing far more than that 🤦🏻‍♀️)

there are undoubtedly many more underrated moments (especially as i think we become a little desensitised here to some of them because of the sheer volume of insane moments between them), but those are the first few favourites that came to mind! if anyone has any other underrated moments they’d like to add please feel free to go ahead! 🥰

[sun-kissy]

fairytale | j.p.

james potter x reader

summary: james takes you to the amusement park on your birthday

cw: fluff!! so much fluff

a/n: i’m dedicating this to my lovely friend rese, @foodiegoogie, happy birthday <333

James’ eyes narrow as he looks at the little signboard on the cotton candy booth. “You’re sure you don’t want the Mickey Mouse shaped one? Like — absolutely sure?”

You tsk, crossing your arms over your chest. “Enough of the whole Mickey Mouse agenda, Jamie. Look at us.”

You do jazz hands towards yourself. James has to admit you’re right — you’re wearing a headband with the iconic round ears, and his sweatshirt has a picture of the happy-go-lucky rodent on it.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “Can we at least get the heart-shaped one?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you boop his nose teasingly. “It’s my birthday. I think you should let me choose.”

The booth vendor stares blankly at the two of you.

James pretends to pout, but he’d easily let you choose, birthday or not. He doesn’t think he’d ever have the heart to say no to you. “Fine then, go on and pick.”

He takes pride in making you beam so brightly. You turn to the vendor excitedly.

“Can I please get a…” you pretend to think with the tip of your finger tapping your chin. “Hmm… a heart-shaped one, perhaps?”

James grins, bending down to stamp a kiss to your cheek. “You naughty minx.”

“Hey!” you say between giggles, leaning away as he tries to pepper your face with kisses. “That’s not a nice thing to say to the birthday girl.”

He wraps his arm around your waist to hold you in place, giving you a firm peck on the lips. You happily oblige.

“I’ll say anything I want to the birthday girl, cos she’s my girl,” James murmurs into another quick kiss before straightening up and taking the cotton candy from the vendor.

You roll your eyes. But it’s no use, you know you probably look as giddy as you feel. “Flirt.”

James grins proudly. He steers you towards the rides with a hand on the small of your back. “Which one should we go on next?”

You and him had been here all evening. Because you’d been talking about going to the amusement park for weeks, he thought he’d surprise you by getting tickets for your birthday. You weren’t exactly surprised — your boyfriend wasn’t very subtle about it, his own excitement slipping out a lot in the days leading up to it. But you were happy; that’s all that James needed.

You tear some cotton candy off the stick before handing it back to him. “What about…” you ask between stuffed mouthfuls of the sugary cotton, “That one?”

James turns to look at the rollercoaster you’re pointing at, and has to refrain from outwardly gulping.

It’s big, really big, and black, sort of like a metal beast with its fangs to the sky. He feels a shudder go through him at the thought of being flung off those tracks.

“Um…” he scratches the nape of his neck nervously. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m not sure if — if you can handle it.”

“Me? Or you?” you snort, looping your arm through his and pulling him towards the attraction. “Relax, babe. We’ll be fine. Unless…”

You pull him to a stop and squint at him, glaring. James gulps. “Unless you’re scared?”

“Nope! No, nuh-uh. Not scared at all. That monst — rollercoaster’s got nothing on me,” he blurts out immediately and puffs out his chest.

You grin, giving him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. The two of you join the queue outside the entrance.

You didn’t think James was secretly just a teenage girl. But judging by the pitch of his screams on this rollercoaster, maybe he was.

Laughter bubbles out of you as the wind rips through your hair, twists and turns pulling your stomach in every direction possible. You turn to look at James.

He’s positively terrified, hands in the air and shrieks getting louder by the second. It makes your laughter worse.

The rollercoaster finally screeches to a halt. You hop off and wait patiently for James to stumble out.

“God,” he groans, immediately wrapping his arms around you as soon as he gets close. He makes another pained sound as he leans forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “That really was something.”

You giggle, rubbing his back consolingly. “You okay? You were so brave up there.”

“So brave, wasn’t I? So brave,” he mumbles, as if to convince himself.

“Very brave,” you nod, easing him off you and gently steering him away.

James mutters some incoherent agreement, leaning against you and pressing a kiss into your hair. You pat his back and squeeze his hip encouragingly.

“So,” he mutters as he straightens up, as though dreading it, “What next?”

You take a glance around you. You were too preoccupied to notice it before — but the sun had begun to set, sky losing its light. Maybe it was time to let James get a taste of the love he so easily showered you in.

You turn to him. “You choose.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he coos and kisses your cheek, marveling at how red you instantly turn. “This is why I love you.”

You pout. “Because I let you choose a ride on my birthday?”

“Exactly,” he grins unapologetically, intertwining your fingers in his before pulling you in the direction of whatever he had in mind. You sigh and follow behind.

“Here we are.”

The two of you come to a stop in front of a looming, lit-up, circular structure, and your smile widens. “Ferris wheel?”

“Ferris wheel,” James confirms.

“You’re so cliché.”

“You love it,” he chuckles. He takes you to an empty cabin and helps you in.

James gets in next to you. His arm goes around your shoulder and open palm on your lap, like he always seems to be doing these days. You take his hand.

The wheel starts up, cabin moving upward. You turn away to look outside and feel your heart swell with something like love at the sight.

Beautiful is too less of a word for it. The sky is painted in hues of pink and golden, straight out of a movie. There’s so many people down below. They get smaller and smaller. The amusement park is adorned in lights and liveliness and laughter; and you think you might just be looking at the closest-to-textbook-definition depiction of love.

That’s until you hear James’ voice from beside you. “Y/n?”

“Hm?” you mumble, eyes fixated on the sinking sun.

“I love you.”

James told you this a thousand times an hour, twenty four hours a day. But something about the way he just said it made you turn around to look at him, and you’re glad you did, because the view was even better.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that mattered, like the loveliness of the sunset didn’t stand a chance against yours. And you want to melt. You want to melt and you want to kiss him and you wish you could do everything all at once; there was just too much love in your heart to be shown through one singular gesture.

Instead, all that comes out is a soft, “Oh.”

James smiles wider.

“I love you too,” you babble, and you know you sound like a lovesick fool. You can’t bring yourself to care. “I love you too, James. So much.”

He doesn’t even give you a second to recalibrate before his hand is on your cheek, lips gently pressing onto yours.

It didn’t feel like a fairytale kiss — like you were a princess, and there were fireworks in the background. It felt like home.

Like his lips had found their safe haven on yours, because you’d definitely found yours in him. James kisses you like he loves you, and you know he does. You know because he says it, because he’s holding you like you’re the most special girl in the world.

You may not have been a princess that night — or any night, for that matter. But you got to be James’ for now, maybe forever. What more could you want?

You pull back, breaths mingling in the loved air for a few moments. James grins and leans in for another one, which you happily give.

“I love you, sweetheart. Happy birthday,” he murmurs, hands threading through your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

It really was a happy birthday.