#we wanted 'teddy bear sand'

[burrowkit]

At one point, my friends and I had a spot as a little "house" (it was slightly sheltered in the school yard, but not too much), and when branches came off, they made perfect "brooms" to sweep the extra dirt out.

There was also a beautiful hole in the hill which the dirt looked gold in colour. And in the winter, it was the perfect place to build a snow fort (if we were allowed on the hill), due to it's natural dip. We didn't need to build as high with snow boulders.

early homo sapiens b like help i cant stop making bowls . help i cant stop domesticating plants and animals. help i cant stop developing language and architecture and religion

[slayfics]

Valentine’s Day with Katsuki.

1,500 words~

You trailed behind Katsuki after classes as you both returned to the dorms.

"Hey," he mumbled. "What do you have planned for tomorrow?" he asked as he walked ahead of you with his hands jammed into his pockets.

"Nothing other than classes," You responded.

Katsuki grunted, "Well what do you want then?"

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, and the rest of your classmates had been buzzing excitedly about their plans and who their valentine was.

You and Katsuki have had some... type of relationship for a while now. While it was never defined, you knew he felt some affection towards you. It surprised you that he had semi-acknowledged what tomorrow was at all, given how much trouble he had expressing any emotions other than anger.

"I don't want anything Bakugo," You answered honestly. You didn't feel like you needed any stuffed animals or chocolates to prove to others your connection with Katsuki was real. It was already obvious by the way he never protested your company like he did his other classmates.

"Tch- fine then where do you want to go?" he asked as he slowed down a bit, although still walking slightly ahead of you.

"I don't care, as long as I get to spend time with you," you said pulling at his arm and bringing his hand out of his pocket.

"You're so damn cheesy," He complained, as you interlaced your fingers with his. His walking slowed even more, matching your pace now. "Just meet me after class then- I'll figure something out, alright?"

"Ok," You agreed happily.

The next day was full of excitement around the U.A. campus, several students walked around with teddy bears and various other gifts from their partners.

Classes kept you busy and couldn't talk to Katsuki much. It was nice to see your other classmates so excited about their plans and gifts, but it made you even more anxious for the day to end.

Would Katsuki really have planned something, you wondered?

Finally, after what felt like entirely too long, your class was released. Madness ensued as others showed off their gifts or made their way out to plans.

Katsuki made his way out of the class avoiding any conversations with anyone. You slipped out and followed behind him. You were a little hurt he hadn't said anything to you and exited so quickly, but you knew he hated these things and wouldn't want to express anything around your classmates.

Katsuki heard your footsteps behind him and called out to you, "You ready brat?"

You quickened your pace to catch up to him, "Yeah- but ready for what?"

"We got a bit of a walk so- I don't want to hear any complaining from you. Got it?" He barked.

"Yeah, no problem," you agreed. "But- where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there!" He snapped.

Katsuki was right, the walk was long. And for the most part, it was filled with awkward silence. You couldn't think of anything to say to him, and Katsuki was wrapped up in his own thoughts, anxious about what he planned.

Finally, his stride slowed as you both approached the shore of the closest beach to the U.A. campus.

"We're here," he announced.

You looked at the beach and back at him stunned. He chose to bring you both to the beach? Ever since you were a kid, you loved the beach, the feel of the sand, the sound of the waves, and the feel of the mist on your face. You remembered only mentioning your love of the beach to Katsuki once- long ago at the start of your time at U.A., had he really remembered that?

Katsuki squinted and took in your reaction, trying to make sense of it. Your eyes were wide, and you were speechless. He didn't understand if that was good or bad.

"What? Is it too dumb? I know it's winter but-, fuck it let's go back then," He deiced and tried to walk away.

"No!" You yelled and grabbed his arm. "This is- really sweet Bakugo. Did you- really remember I liked the beach?" You asked.

"Duh- you don't shut up about it," he said grumpily taking off his school bag, pulling out a blanket, and making his way to the sand.

You laughed. You definitely only told him once. It shocked you that he had committed it to memory.

Katsuki laid the blanket on the sand and sat down, "Well? You going to join me or keep standing there dumb ass?" He asked.

You hurried over to the blanket and sat down next to him, your shoulder grazing his.

"Tch- you always like to be so close, don't you?" he complained.

You scooted away giving him some space.

"You didn't have to move- it's fine," he said much quieter and he looked away from you pretending to look at something down the shoreline.

You giggled and scooted back.

"You hungry? I made food," he said and pulled out two containers from his bag.

"Are you serious?"

"What!? What's wrong with that?!" he asked defensively.

"Nothing! It's' just- eating dinner while watching the sunset on the beach- it's really romantic. The best Valentine's Day I've ever had." You smiled at him.

"Shut the hell up. It's not like it was that hard," he grumbled as he held out the food for you to grab while he looked the opposite way, intent on hiding the blush that took over his face.

You grabbed the food and undid the container, "This looks really good. You made it?" You asked.

"Yeah- it's just rice, tofu, and some vegetables. Nothing crazy." He said and started taking bites.

"It's perfect, I love it. You're an amazing cook," You complimented.

Katsuki just shrugged his shoulders.

"So, I um- I got you something," you said.

"What?" His gaze snapped to you in surprise.

"It's nothing big but," You reached for your school bag and brought out your gift. You meant to hand it nicely to him, but your nervousness caused you to almost throw it at him. Luckily Katsuki didn't care, instead, he was focused on your gift: a hot sauce bottle with a red ribbon around it.

"You got me hot sauce?" he asked with an indecipherable look on his face.

"Yeah! I know you like spicy stuff- but now that I'm here, I'm thinking about it- that was probably a really dumb Valentine's gift, wasn't it? I'm sorry," you said embarrassed.

Katsuki looked at the bottle a bit longer before answering, "It's not dumb. I haven't tried this one. Been wanting to," he said as he opened it and put some on his food.

"It's good," he said after taking a bite. "It's actually hot, unlike the other ones back in the kitchen in the dorms. Keeping this one in my room for sure." He said, placing it in his bag.

You smiled as you both finished up the last of the food Katsuki made.

"Hey, do you- mind if I take a picture?" You asked, voice shaking a bit unsure of how Katsuki would respond.

"I don't care," he responded.

You took out your phone and snapped a photo of you both. Your smile beamed through the photo, and Katsuki's neutral smile spoke volumes compared to his usual scowl and furrowed brows.

"Do you- care if I post it?" You asked.

"Do what you want," he said packing away the food containers.

You quickly tagged him and posted the photo to your profile.

"Sun is basically gone now and it's getting cold, you ready to head back?" He asked.

"Almost," you said looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

"Hu? What's that look for?" He asked.

You didn't know how to tell Katsuki you wanted to kiss him, instead your eyes just rested on his lips.

"Speak up brat!" He barked.

"I uh- can I... kiss you?" You managed to say but looked away afraid to look at his reaction.

"Not if you don't turn this way," he said smartly. Katsuki put his hand under your chin and guided your lips to his for a kiss that felt too short and yet seemed to stop time simultaneously.

That was until-

"OH MY GOD!" You exclaimed, placing your hands over your lips.

"What?!" He yelled confused.

"ITS HOT!" You yelled.

Katsuki exploded with laughter at understanding, the hot sauce he had was now burning your lips up as you weren't used to spice like he was.

"Don't laugh!" You said and playfully smacked his shoulder.

"You should see your face! You're completely red!" he said practically kneeling over in laughter.

"Whatever let's go back!" You said standing up.

Once Katsuki was done laughing, he stood up and put the blanket away.

"So that was the hottest kiss you ever had then?" He said playfully at you.

"In more ways than one," You teased back as you both made your way back to the dorms.

Later in the night, you were surprised to get a notification that Katsuki had re-posted the photo of you both.

Tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @bakugouswaif @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a

[cgunderwearstories]

The Underwear Volleyball Game

It was a blistering summer afternoon, the kind of day where the sun feels like it's throwing a tantrum, making everything and everyone melt. The local adult volleyball team, "Spiked Punch," had gathered for their weekly game at the park. The sand was so hot it felt like walking on a griddle, and everyone was already sweating through their clothes before the warm-up was even finished.

"Guys," Greg, the team captain, panted as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, "I don’t know about you, but I’m cooking alive here. What do you say we make this a little more…comfortable?"

The team looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I’m game," said Tony, who was known for his impulsive decisions. "But let’s keep it PG. How about… underwear only?"

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but as they all stood there, feeling the sun beat down on them, the idea started to sound better and better.

"Alright, let's do it," said Mitch, always the first to jump on board with any wild idea. "It’s not like we haven’t seen each other in worse."

Soon, a chorus of agreement followed, and the players began stripping down, leaving only their underwear.

Team "Boxer Brigade," as they now called themselves, consisted of:

Greg, the team captain, who sported a pair of red boxers with little white skulls on them. A tough guy on the court, but apparently a fan of quirky designs.

Tony, always the life of the party, had on bright yellow boxers with smiley faces all over them. They practically glowed in the sunlight, much like his personality.

Mitch, the wildcard, was wearing boxers with little superheroes on them. Every time he jumped, Spider-Man, Batman, and the Hulk seemed to battle it out in mid-air.

Dave, the quiet one of the group, was full of surprises. His boxers were a deep purple with neon green dinosaurs stomping across them. No one saw that coming.

Sam, the prankster, had on boxers covered in cartoon pizza slices, complete with gooey cheese and pepperoni. It wasn’t clear if he loved pizza that much, or just wanted to mess with everyone’s concentration.

Oliver, the team’s tallest player, sported boxers with little surfing penguins riding waves. The contrast of his tall, lanky frame with the tiny penguins was enough to make everyone giggle.

On the other side of the net was Team Tighties, who had an altogether different look:

Ryan, the co-captain, was rocking classic white tighty whities. But not just any tighty whities—his had the words “Captain Underpants” embroidered on the waistband. It was a power move, really.

Mark, the team's gym buff, was in Jockey white bikini briefs, which left very little to the imagination. He flexed unnecessarily often, making sure everyone knew exactly how much time he spent at the gym.

Jake, the strategist, had on what could only be described as “vintage” tighty whities. They were a bit faded, with a slightly stretched-out waistband. He claimed they were his lucky pair from college.

Brad, the jokester, wore white briefs with little hearts on them. "They’re from Valentine’s Day," he explained, but no one asked.

Steve, the guy who always seemed to have everything in order, wore white cotton panties with the days of the week on the back. Today was “Sunday” written in glittery black cursive.

Frank, the quiet but intense player, had on tighty whities with a single, tiny, embroidered teddy bear on the left side. No one dared to ask about the teddy bear.

As they got into position, the spectators gathered around couldn’t help but laugh, but the teams were undeterred.

Despite their new attire, the game began with a fierce serve from Ryan. The ball was flying back and forth across the net, and the sight of grown men diving in colorful boxers and tighty whities was a spectacle to behold. Every time Mitch jumped, his superheros battled it out in epic slow-motion. Oliver’s penguins seemed to surf along with him as he went for spikes. And Ryan’s tighty whities, emblazoned with “Captain Underpants,” gave him an almost heroic flair, or so he liked to think.

The sun was blazing down on the park, and the game had reached a whole new level of intensity. The teams, Boxer Brigade and Team Tighties, were locked in an epic battle, both on the court and—unbeknownst to one side—off of it.

What no one knew was that Tony, the mischievous trickster of the Boxer Brigade, had secretly brought along a volleyball with a strange, mystical marking on it. Tony had picked it up from an old, dusty shop he’d stumbled upon while on vacation in the middle of nowhere. The shopkeeper had warned him that the ball was "enchanted" and would “stir the passions of any who played with it.” Tony, never one to pass up on a good prank, figured that could only mean fun for the game. He didn’t believe in magic, but he did believe in chaos, and that was just as good.

As the match went on, the ball—glowing faintly in the scorching sunlight—moved between the teams with increasing speed and intensity. The heat, exhaustion, and the competitive spirit were all getting to Team Tighties. But something else was starting to take hold too: the curse.

It began subtly. Ryan, the co-captain of Team Tighties, missed a serve by just a hair. Mark, the gym buff, rolled his eyes and muttered something about how he could’ve done it better. Ryan shot him a glare, his tighty whities (emblazoned with “Captain Underpants”) seeming to tighten as his temper flared.

"You think you could do better?" Ryan snapped, his face flushing red as the heat, and something more sinister, started to boil over.

"Maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time strutting around in those kiddie undies, you wouldn’t miss!" Mark shot back, flexing his biceps for emphasis.

The rest of Team Tighties watched in stunned silence as their two most level-headed players began to bicker. But soon, the curse’s influence spread like wildfire.

Jake, the strategist with the slightly faded tighty-whities, stepped in to try and cool things down, but Brad, always the jokester, saw an opportunity. With a quick motion, Brad yanked on Jake’s waistband, giving him a classic wedgie that sent Jake stumbling forward.

"Hey, what the hell, man?!" Jake yelled, his hands clawing at his back to free his underwear from the deep wedgie. But before he could retaliate, Steve, ever the organized one, piped up with a sarcastic comment about how Jake probably had his lucky vintage undies on the wrong day of the week.

That was it. The curse had fully taken hold.

Chaos erupted on the court. Ryan and Mark, who had once been the pillars of the team, were now locked in a ridiculous fight, each one trying to pants the other. Mark’s grip was strong from his hours at the gym, and he managed to yank Ryan’s underpants down to his ankles. But before Ryan could respond, Mark found his own waistband in Ryan’s grasp, and in a swift motion, Mark’s bikini briefs were down around his knees.

Brad, meanwhile, had moved on from wedgies to full-on tearing. He grabbed the waistband of Steve’s "Sunday" panties and, with a mighty pull, ripped it clean in half. Steve, horrified at the destruction of his perfectly planned outfit, lunged at Brad and managed to get his hands on Brad’s heart-patterned briefs. A rip echoed across the court as Brad’s underwear met the same fate.

Jake, who had finally freed himself from his wedgie, saw Frank standing calmly on the side, seemingly unaffected. Frank, with his tiny embroidered teddy bear on his tighty whities, had always been the quiet one, the calm one. But the curse didn’t care. Jake rushed at Frank, ready to take him down in the same ridiculous manner that was sweeping across the team.

Frank, caught off guard, tried to dodge, but Jake was quick. He grabbed Frank’s waistband and gave it a solid yank. Frank’s tighty whities stretched, but instead of tearing, they snapped back with a resounding thwack that sent Frank stumbling forward. Jake wasn’t done. Fueled by the curse, he reached out and delivered a wedgie so fierce that Frank let out a yelp of surprise.

The scene on the court was one of absolute chaos. The once-proud Team Tighties was now a mess of torn underwear, bruised egos, and sand-covered bodies. The Boxer Brigade, standing on the other side of the net, watched with a mix of horror and amusement. They hadn’t expected the curse to take things this far.

“Uh… should we stop this?” Greg asked, glancing at Tony, who was still holding the cursed volleyball, now glowing slightly in his hands.

“I didn’t think it would actually work,” Tony admitted, looking genuinely concerned for the first time.

“Well, do something!” Mitch yelled, dodging a rogue piece of torn tighty whities that flew across the net.

Tony, unsure of what to do, quickly muttered, “Uh, I reverse the curse! Take it back! Whatever!” and threw the ball to the ground. The glowing ceased immediately.

As if a switch had been flipped, the members of Team Tighties suddenly stopped in their tracks, blinking as if waking from a dream. They looked around at the destruction—torn underwear hanging off in tatters, sand stuck to sweaty, naked bodies, and a few still mid-wedgie.

Ryan was the first to speak. “What the hell just happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” Mark said, looking down at his ruined tighty whities and then at the remains of Ryan’s. “But I’m pretty sure we just ripped each other’s underwear to shreds.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of the situation set in. Then, as if on cue, everyone burst into laughter. The sight of each other, standing there in what little was left of their underwear, was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“Nice moves there, ‘Captain Underpants,’” Mark said, slapping Ryan on the back, causing him to stumble forward, tripping over his shredded tighty whities.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think your gym buddies would’ve fared any better,” Ryan shot back, laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

The rest of the team was in similar states of disarray, apologizing between fits of laughter. Steve, holding the remains of his Sunday briefs, shook his head with a grin. “Guess I’m gonna need a new pair for next week.”

Tony, still holding the now-normal volleyball, sheepishly approached the group. “Uh, guys? About that… I might have brought a cursed volleyball. Sorry about that.”

The looks he got were a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Tony, you’re an idiot,” Jake said, still trying to pull the last of the sand out of his tattered briefs.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots too, for going along with it,” Brad added, giving Tony a playful shove.

In the end, the game was forgotten in favor of recovering their dignity—or what was left of it. They all promised to meet up again next week, but with one condition: normal volleyballs, normal clothes, and definitely no curses.

[kayawolfhorse]

As It Was | Read on AO3

—☾—

Desert nights, in the shadow of the sweltering hours of daylight, are improbably, intolerably cold.

Neither Scar nor Grian had anticipated the biting chill that rose with the moon over the sea of sand dunes, and their castle, for all its formidable glory, had not simply not been built to retain heat. Drafts of frigid air seep through glassless windows and the slats cut along the uppermost edge of the outer walls and drift across the tall rooms, coming to a rest against bare floors. The base’s design works beautifully against the sun’s relentless rays, but the night’s clever fingers find purchase all too easily between every brick and beam.

“I think you’ve straightened that barrel four times by now,” Scar comments from where he’s sitting upon wrinkled covers in front of the furnaces. The bed’s placement is temporary—they have actual bedrooms now, decidedly the most reasonable place for a bed to be, but in lieu of any real chairs in the kitchen, Scar’s willing to delay its relocation.

“It was crooked every time,” Grian answers, and adjusts it again. His sleeves are wound tightly around his wrists, colorful wings held firm to his back, and there’s hardly a plank out of place in the double row of barrels that line the walls. Scar’s reluctance to leave the warmest room in the castle is clearly shared.

They continue to swap idle chatter and half-hearted battle plans until Grian runs out of excuses to linger and they’re both stifling yawns after every word.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Grian says, and his words drag along like stubborn heels wedged in sand.

“Guess so.” Scar makes no move to get up, and Grian remains rooted in place. After a moment of mutual inaction, an idea sparks to gleaming life. “You know, we could just stay here.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired,” Grian says. “Need to sleep at some point, and it’s not getting any warmer.”

“Well, lucky for us both, then, there’s already a bed right here.”

Two ticks pass undisturbed.

“You want to—share?” Grian sputters. His wings splay out slightly, seemingly of their own accord; Grian’s quick to smooth them back down.

“No reason not to!” Scar says. “I’m cold; you’re cold. Pooling body heat would be a very economical move.”

Grian stares at him, and Scar can practically hear the gears churning in his brain before he decides, “We can make adjustments to the castle tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

“This is a one-night thing.”

“Sure, sure.”

Scar lays down with his head to the furnaces, scooching back until there’s a nice, Grian-sized spot next to him. Slowly, hesitantly, Grian kicks off his shoes and slides into bed.

The narrow mattress is certainly meant for a single body, and the wall is cold against Scar’s exposed shoulder, but at every point where his other side meets Grian’s is blissful warmth. He resists the urge to melt on the spot.

The space between them is a held breath; just enough tension strings along Grian’s frame to be palpable, and his hand is balled into a loose fist at his hip.

After a moment, when his fingers uncurl in a quiet exhale and start to reach instead of refrain, Scar turns towards him and snakes a careful arm around his waist. Grian huffs, but relaxes his stiff shoulders, which Scar takes as an invitation to draw him closer into himself.

“Dude, you’re like a teddy bear,” Scar says into Grian’s soft hair.

“And you’re a barnacle,” Grian grumbles, and shifts beneath Scar’s grip. Scar releases him, unsure if he’d gone too far, but all Grian does is tug Scar further into his space and tuck his head beneath Scar’s chin. Scar chooses to blame the heat that spreads across his cheekbones on the sudden temperature change. “You’d be warmer with a shirt, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar says. Grian mutters something unintelligible, but his argument evens out with his breath; in one last sigh, he’s asleep.

Scar pulls the blanket more securely over them both before returning his arm to its position around Grian. They’ve hugged before, of course—Scar enjoys showering his friends with physical affection, and Grian’s a very huggable guy! The only real contrast is between their usual verticality and how horizontal they lay now.

It shouldn’t feel different. It shouldn’t. It’s rather late to be picking apart how it does.

For all Scar hid from it, sleep finds him with swift assurance, and the darkness pulls him under.

—☾—

It’s been a few minutes since Scar had gasped awake on his final life, gear-less, enchanter-less, and utterly alone. The wind that blows across a lonely mountaintop beyond his hut’s walls is the only sound that dares fracture the silence suffocating him.

His stuff is still back at the Southlands, if there’s even anything left of it. Murmurs of white-hot phantom pain ghost across every part of his skin the lava had touched.

He should go get his stuff. He should gather his few bits of TNT and ignite a trail of ruin within the base of those who have taken so much from him. There should be anger crackling at his very marrow, urging him forwards, avenging his death.

Scar stares at a scuff mark left behind on the calcite floor, and doesn’t move for a long time.

Eventually, the rattle of the doorknob startles Scar up onto his feet and into his usual place behind the just-for-show register. No one has business here anymore—he’s run out of his most precious commodities to sell. His fingers tighten against the counter.

Grian’s near-shoved inside by a particularly inspired gust, and he grunts as he hauls the door shut behind him. Everything about him is mussed; the scarf around his neck, the breaths that fall rapid-fire from his lips, his wings. Scar’s immediate instinct is still to offer a preen. He doesn’t.

“Hello there,” Scar greets instead. What else is there to do? Maybe he can work in a scam before Grian leaves.

Grian’s gaze snaps to Scar’s face before the words are fully out of his mouth. It’s foolish, really: there should be mockery swirling within the amber of Grian’s eyes; teasing pity, or, if Scar’s lucky, fear, but all he can find in the pinch of Grian’s mouth and the furrow of his brow is concern.

“I brought your items,” Grian says, and holds a pair of diamond trousers aloft. “D’you have a place to put them?”

Scar steps back from the counter and gestures to its empty surface. As Grian dumps what meager gear had survived the lava onto it, Scar briefly entertains a fantasy in which he’d sent Grian to deposit the items in the mess of chests outside instead. He supposes he couldn’t have prevented any thievery, should it have arisen, if Grian was out of his sight, but somewhere deep within, Scar gets the feeling Grian agrees that he’s already taken enough.

The sound of leather against wood brings Scar back to the present. He glances down; a book whose cover is marked by Bdubs’ familiar looping handwriting lands next to his pickaxe. A second book bearing Joel’s signature is soon to join it. Contracts.

Scar looks sharply at Grian, who shrugs. “I didn’t see mine.”

“So that’s it, then,” Scar says, and something bitter coats his throat.

Grian empties his bag of a final unlit torch. “I came all the way out here, didn’t I? The contract’s still on.”

“Oh,” Scar says. He blinks. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Grian says. Uncertainty washes over his features in one second; it’s gone in the next. You wouldn’t happen to have tea, would you?”

Scar doesn’t, but from his inventory Grian produces not only a pouch of tea leaves but an entire kettle to prepare them in. He crouches before Scar’s tiny fireplace and fusses about setting water to boil while Scar uselessly rearranges things on the shelves that line the far wall. Against the brush of his fingers, a rack of crystals hanging from chords of string chime softly against each other, and Scar savors the sound; Grian, too, pauses to listen, and continues only when the twinkling has faded.

Long after the dregs of tea have cooled, it becomes apparent that Grian isn’t leaving, and Scar doesn’t understand why. Even his contract didn’t oblige him with this—the stipulations may protect Scar from Grian’s physical harm, and give demand for resources when he needs them, but they’re not really allies, not this time around.

Scar doesn’t know what to make of it. He certainly doesn’t know what to make of Grian’s tired eyes and empty hands as he sits on the floor beside Scar’s bed.

He holds his tongue for an admirably long time. Company is so few and far between, after all.

“What are you still doing here, G?” Scar asks.

Grian stares for a fierce, resolute moment at the floor before answering. He must’ve found the same scuff.

When he looks up, his mouth churns for a second before words start to come out of it. “It’s awfully cold out,” he says. “I figured I’d let the worst of it pass.”

Scar considers this. It really is quite frigid, and where the rest of the server is swathed in the honey-boughed trees of autumn, his mountain sees only the hardiest of evergreens. Dusk brings a fierce bite that threatens to close its jaws around any player foolish enough to traverse its snowy cliffs.

“It won’t get any better ‘til the sun comes out, I’m afraid,” Scar says lightly.

The thing is, Grian’s not lying. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth, either. He’s keeping something from Scar (when’s the last time he told Scar anything, anyway? Scar knows the answer) and Scar can’t figure out what.

Though, Scar supposes, full honesty is hardly a ware upon his own shelves. If things were different, if they stood on different ground and the air between them wasn’t filled with static, Scar would press harder.

He lets Grian keep his not-lie, free of charge.

“That’s alright,” Grian says. He removes the goggles perched in his hair and tilts his head back against the corner of the mattress behind him, closing his eyes. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

Scar gives himself exactly three seconds to breathe before he unclasps his cloak and leaves it on its hook by the door. He’ll have to dig his black one out of whatever chest it’s stashed in tomorrow to better drape over his last life. Carefully, haltingly, he climbs into bed, and, once beneath the covers, gives Grian’s shoulder a gentle tug.

A single half-slitted eye flicks up to Scar’s outstretched arm.

“Just for tonight?” Scar asks. He thinks he might be pleading. “A one-night thing.”

Just when Scar’s about to take back his words and encase them in fake laughter, insisting he didn’t mean them, Grian shrugs out of his boots and crawls into bed, and easily curls around Scar.

His hand finds Scar’s own and squeezes, briefly, before letting go. It travels up the side of Scar’s neck—Scar shouldn’t trust this much, and Grian shouldn’t be this gentle—until his fingers twine around a strand of Scar’s hair.

“It’s getting long,” Grian says, and his eyes are far too pained. Scar wonders if he, too, is thinking about the nights they passed a pair of shears between them to trim each other’s unruly messes of hair before remembering that neither of them should care about that anymore.

“Haven’t had time to cut it,” Scar lies. The echo of what’s left unsaid is unbearably loud.

Grian fully retracts his hand; his countenance shutters with it. After a moment, he rests his arm over Scar’s waist. “A one-night thing,” he says, like it’s a reminder.

For all he can foolishly hope otherwise, Scar knows Grian means it. It’s a far cry from countless nights spent scheming in whispers on a single bed whose crevices always held pinches of sand, no matter how hard they shook out the covers. Tomorrow night, he will be alone again.

For the fleeting moments he has him, Scar holds Grian close and aches.

—☾—

There’s a second heartbeat intertwined around Scar’s own between his ribs, and it’s as familiar as a path trodden down by years of use; as foreign as the untouched grass of a new world’s spawn, and its owner lies across the room from him.

The sensation is odd: to share something only ever meant for one body feels like it should feel wrong, like it’s breaking a line of code within the Universe itself. Stranger still is to be so far away from his counterpart, when surely they’ve been melded as one. Every part of him yearns to reach across the expanse between their beds.

Grian’s heart drums out a wrenching sort of homesickness within his ears. Scar kind of hates it.

“Grian, did you move the diamonds somewhere?” Scar calls over his shoulder. With a collective distaste in organization, the pair of them make for a blight upon storage systems everywhere, but Scar could’ve sworn the few diamonds they had left were right here a day ago.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I moved them further in. Let me grab them.” Grian appears with an axe in hand, and pries up a few floorboards near the back wall to expose a hidden chest. He gestures to it. “Gathered up our iron and TNT supplies, too.”

“You never tell me anything,” Scar muses as he crouches down to grab enough diamonds for a pickaxe. When he looks up at Grian, he’s got a funny expression on his face, like he’s bitten into a melon that’s been left out in the sun for too long.

“I tell you plenty,” he says, and his tone edges into something defensive.

Scar examines a nail. “Didn’t tell me about the secret chest though, did’ja?”

“I was going to,” Grian says evenly. His pale knuckles are in the process of turning whiter around the handle of his axe.

“When?” Scar asks. “After you gathered all the courage you needed to share plans with your teammate? After I’d caught you with red enough hands that you had no choice?”

“No!” Grian must’ve noticed his tightening grip, and shoves the axe back onto his belt. “No, Scar, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, I wonder? I don’t think you trust me, Grian.”

“I trust you plenty,” Grian dismisses. Liar. Something cracks beneath Scar’s eye. “It’s not like you tell me everything you get up to, anyway.”

“It was a bit of light arson, everything’s fine.” Scar waves a flippant hand. “I can make my own decisions and you should support me in them, as my soulmate.”

“Making enemies behind my back isn’t fine,” Grian says with a glare. “Not when both of our lives are at stake.”

“Sure, but I would’ve told you straight away,” Scar says. “It’s not my fault you heard about it through rumors before I could get to you. You clearly don’t feel the same about what you keep from me.”

“I just didn’t think it concerned you,” Grian mutters.

“Concerned me?” Scar exclaims. “They’re our resources! Why wouldn’t that concern me?”

“Cared. I didn’t think you cared,” Grian corrects himself. A nasty little thing worms its way into his tone as he says, “It doesn’t affect the pandas. What reason do you have to care?”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Scar spits out. “And let me tell you, you’ve done a crap job so far.”

“Oh, Scar, we haven’t been one for a long time,” Grian says, and his blade softens to barbs wrapped around Scar’s flesh. “Why start now?”

The wire tightens. Scar bleeds.

He doesn’t grace Grian with another word before storming out of the haphazard storage room. Grian can hide any chest he wants, Scar doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

Dread prickles along the nerves of Scar’s palms. The darkness before him is blinding; he can’t see, no matter how wide he tries to open his eyes. Weight presses down upon every limb, and he’s trapped, he’s vulnerable, and all around him, inky blackness roars—

“—Scar? Scar. C’mon, buddy.”

Scar bolts upright. It takes a moment before low torchlight burns into view, and the room around him sharpens. He holds a hand to his brow. It comes away sweaty.

“Scar.”

Right. Grian’s kneeling beside Scar’s bed, his red sweater a bloodstain in the dimness, and his hand hovers close to Scar’s arm. When Scar meets his gaze, his reach drops entirely.

“Yes?” Scar asks expectantly. He had avoided Grian for the rest of the day after their argument, and was asleep before Grian had returned to the base; this is the first they’ve spoken in hours.

“You were having a nightmare,” Grian says, and gestures to his own chest. Scar’s heartbeat had given him away.

“Oh.”

Uncomfortable silence falls between them. Scar fidgets with the blanket and vaguely debates what time it must be.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Grian says. His delivery is lacking, in Scar’s humble opinion, and at least some of that must show on his face, because Grian continues: “Really, I am. I should’ve told you straight away.”

“You should’ve trusted me straight away,” Scar adds. He’s been taken off-guard, admittedly. Grian’s always been the type to argue fast and apologize just as quickly afterwards, but this is the first time he’s said it here. Scar wouldn’t have expected it to come in the middle of the night, but Grian’s also never been one for general reason.

“I should’ve,” Grian agrees. “It’s pretty lousy to go behind your soulmate’s back like that; you deserved to have known.”

“Thank you,” Scar says, a bit stunned.

“We kind of suck at this whole soulbound business,” Grian says, with a humorless little laugh.

Scar shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

Grian’s forehead furrows and he scans Scar’s face before he nods once, slowly, decisively. “Yeah, we will.”

It’s too late in the night for truthfulness, and Scar’s edges are feeling rather raw, so instead of releasing the hundreds of words that threaten to tumble from the tip of his tongue, he extends an arm in invitation to Grian.

Grian doesn’t hesitate to haul himself forwards and settle his head upon Scar’s chest when they’re both properly laying down. Scar might cry. He buries his face in Grian’s hair.

“For what it’s worth,” Grian says, a final breath before sleep, “I’m glad to share a heart with you, as accident-prone as you sometimes are. I don’t think I’d want it to be anyone else.”

Scar squeezes him tighter. Grian hugs him back. The distance gaping between them doesn’t feel quite so insurmountable.

—☾—

“Hi Grian! I’m so sorry, but it had to happen. Thank you.”

Grian’s unblinking stare doesn’t waver. If Scar squints, he can almost convince himself he sees some semblance of life in the stiff form of his body through the water that cascades between them.

“No—this isn’t an apology session, he tells you your future,” Bdubs says, and the group crammed together in the little stone room erupts into giggles. Scar defends his position against their teasing through his own laughter.

Still chuckling, Scott says, “You know what, this can be whatever you want. For Scar, it can be a confessional, and for the rest of us it can be fortune telling.”

“Okay, hold on, one second.” Scar clears his throat and peers back through the waterfall. It’s almost easier to hold Grian’s eyes when he’s not behind them. Scar misses their spark. “I’m sorry that I baby-talked you so much, you were just so cute on your little llama. I’m so sorry that I killed you, but I had to. It was part of the moment, things happen. Thank you.”

Someone gives a short-winded clap.

Scar turns around with a flourish before straightening. “I feel better.”

“Lovely,” Bdubs says.

After the bit has run its course, Scar shuffles aboveground with everyone else and lags behind when they head for their respective bases. When the coast is clear, he doubles back to where Grian’s been left.

First he plugs the water, and in its absence, the room is shockingly still. He then drops into a crouch by the wall next to Grian, and unhooks his legs beneath him until he’s sat flat on the ground, leaning against the cool stone.

“I lied,” Scar says, staring into nothing. “I said I was sorry for killing you, but I’m not. Well, maybe I am. I’m sorry for not being more sorry.”

Will Grian be mad when he wakes? Surely he’d expected chaos upon leaving his unoccupied body on a server like this. It’d be, frankly, unreasonable not to. If anything, he’s lucky he’s not on red, or a shimmering spectator floating through the night!

Scar is briefly distracted by visions of a ghostly Grian wearing a leather jacket as solid as the moral world around him, like when one forgets to remove their armor after taking a potion of invisibility. He voices as much to the real Grian, and the faint echo that follows his own voice is his only response.

It feels wrong to let the stifling hush fall back into place, so Scar fills it.

He tells Grian about the Clockers, and how their tower is coming along. He recounts a funny encounter with Martyn and all of the spectacular ways Scar’s traps have failed. Joel had complimented Scar’s triple kill, Scar can’t help but gloat, and winces when he gets to the part where all three of the players who’d died were yellow.

“You’d be proud,” Scar says. “Almost a quad.” There is something undeniably warm and inexplicably aching in his chest.

“I miss you sometimes,” he confesses, “and it’s silly, because you’re right there in front of me. You’ve got your sunglasses and your bread bad bridge boys—however you say it—and it’s stupid to miss someone you can see, right?”

He tilts his head up and traces patterns in the ceiling. “I’m happy with Mom and Bdubs. I’m not sorry for burning your mansion down or maybe sort of poking around your chests. We both know how Double Life ended.”

From his pocket, Scar produces a bedroll, and he briefly shuffles around to place it where he’d been sitting and re-settle upon it. His legs were getting sore.

“We make a good team.” Sepia-toned kitchens and grey trouser pockets lined with TNT bleed into spiked fortresses and mildewed cities deep underground. “Or maybe we don’t.”

Scar sighs. “Silly of me, isn’t it?”

A stuttering cough jolts Scar from the hazy area between wakefulness and sleep. It takes him a moment to place where he is. There’s a crick in his neck from where he’d been awkwardly leaning it against the stone.

“Of all the places to be, I don’t think this is what I was expecting,” Grian says contemplatively to Scar’s right, his voice a little scratchy.

“Oh!” Scar says, startled. “Good… something, sleepyhead.”

“Scar? What are you doing here?” Grian asks. Scar watches as he clambers out of the hole he’d been put in on unsteady feet. “Actually, scratch that. Where is here?”

“Somewhere under Entertainment Mountain!” Scar frowns. “I think.”

“Right, okay.” Grian’s remarkably composed for someone in his position. “Getting back to my first point, are you a guard or something?”

“You were telling fortunes,” Scar says.

It’s astonishing how different Grian’s blank stare is now compared to his previous state. He shakes his head as if to clear it and says, “Actually, I’ve decided that I don’t want to know.

“You told Scott he’d soon come into a stack of diamonds and promised Bdubs a puppy,” Scar says, just to mess with him.

Grian snorts. “Sad to have missed it.” Something like relief floods through Scar.

“Fun times, fun times,” Scar says. “Off to your bread boys, then?”

“Are you off to your Clockers?” Grian asks. He nearly smirks with it.

“It is pretty late,” Scar says, and his own smile grows.

“The boys will definitely want more of an explanation than what I’m awake enough to give,” Grian agrees. He gestures to the space next to Scar, and asks, “That seat wouldn’t happen to be taken, would it?”

Though their teams will worry, though they’ll wake up tomorrow and join opposite sides once more, Grian’s legs tangle between Scar’s own and his breath puffs gently against the juncture of Scar’s neck. Scar’s fingers dig into the softness of Grian’s sweater. He’s glad Grian had left his jacket behind before taking off for… wherever he went.

“So, what was your fortune?” Grian asks, and Scar can feel the words against his skin. They dance as they fall from Grian’s lips, light and teasing.

“That I’m going to win Limited Life, of course,” Scar says with a grin.

Grian hums. “Guess we’ll see.”

—☾—

Twilight catches between each of the sunflowers’ petals that have not yet been shrouded in the shadow of the wall around Scar’s valley, a pretty contrast to the craters he’s been tripping over on the way home. He catches the edge of the nearest flower between his forefinger and thumb as he passes by and releases it before the petals can tear away.

The glow of his outpost is a beacon; once inside, Scar collapses against the door on weary bones. He’d been set on fire a couple times today, and none of it compares to the burn nipping at his feet now. Exhaustion barely begins to cover the shape of his lungs and every limb.

Scar’s moved to sitting on the counter’s edge with his boots removed when a knock sounds at his door. “Come in,” he calls without looking up.

“You’re in a sorry state, aren’t you.” Grian appears in front of Scar. He’s looking rather disheveled himself—his wings, in particular, are just as rumbled as the rolled-up cuffs of his sweater and the white undershirt that peeks out from his collar.

“Wow, rude,” Scar comments.

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Grian says. “I came to check on you. Big day, yeah?”

Scar scoffs. “That stupid thing chased me for like—an hour!”

“And you made a valiant effort,” Grian says, and gives Scar’s shoulder a compassionately gentle pat. “I brought a golden apple over, if you need it.”

“Here at Trader Scar’s, stock is looking unfortunately low at this very second.” Scar waves a hand in the vague direction of the barrels on the wall. “Come back tomorrow.”

“At no cost.” The corner of Grian’s lip quirks up.

“Well, in that case…” Scar holds out a palm, and Grian passes him the apple. He takes a bite and savors its sweetness, ambrosia whose warmth runs over top of his wounds without truly mending them. The kindness of the gesture itself soaks deeper, and Scar’s determined to savor that, too.

Grian watches him for a moment. His gaze seems to skirt across every inch of Scar, never lingering on any specific part. “Got any other general ailments?”

“Can’t do much about them, now can we?” Scar shrugs.

“Sure, but I could at least clean them.” Grian’s tone is nonchalant, but his words, Scar knows, are anything but. This matters to him. The corners of Scar’s eyes crinkle.

The Wither—and the rest of the day’s shenanigans—had left a number of scrapes and bruises along Scar’s skin that turning in his task hadn’t fully healed. A dull sort of sting gnaws at the lines of Scar’s nerves, residue from the withering he hadn’t been able to dodge. His legs hurt and his head throbs and there’s a twinge in his shoulder from where Scar had collided with a wall at an odd angle.

His hands are in arguably the worst state of it all; bare to the earth Scar caught himself upon when he tripped, and tight around a bow when he dared to turn and shoot. He offers them up first to Grian, who takes them, one at a time, and cleans away the dirt and blood with invariable carefulness.

From his pocket Grian pulls a roll of bandages, which he uses to wrap each of Scar’s palms. The rhythm is soothing, and Grian’s steady warmth is familiar. The pain ebs, if even just for a moment, in the wake of his touch.

“Anything else?” Grian asks after he releases Scar’s hands. Though he remains close enough for his breath to fan lightly across the tip of Scar’s nose, Scar mourns the loss of contact immediately.

“Nothing that can be wrapped, it seems,” Scar says. “You?”

“I’m pretty alright,” Grian says. “I feel like I could sleep an entire week, though.”

“Sleeping on wings looking like that?” Scar says conversationally. “They’ll be worse by morning.”

“Oh,” Grian says, sounding a little surprised. He tosses a half-glance over his shoulder. “They’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense!” Scar says. “I’d be a terrible host if I let a guest stay over in such discomfort.”

“Really, there’s no need,” Grian says, leveling Scar a look. Unfortunately for him, Scar’s thoroughly familiar with his tactics.

“You fixed me up,” Scar says, “it’s only fair if I do the same, right?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Grian says. “I didn’t come over for any deals.”

“Consider this to be on the house,” Scar says. Softer, he adds, “I want to. If you’ll have me.”

Grian’s quiet for a long moment. His wing twitches in seeming contemplation.

“Fair is fair,” he concedes soon after. “Want any help getting into bed?”

“Please.”

Scar wraps an arm over Grian’s shoulder, careful to avoid his wings, while Grian braces Scar across his back. Together they make their way into the outpost’s second room, where Scar’s bed is nestled amidst a pile of chests. Scar tugs off his poncho and tosses it onto the nearest surface, then settles onto the bed against the far wall. Grian perches on the edge in front of him and spreads out a wing.

They really are beautiful this time around, all earthy browns and creamy tans, speckled with spots of black that remind Scar of rich, dark soil. He runs gentle fingers through the nearest plumage, carding out debris and straightening feathers knocked out of place.

The repeated motions are comforting, like petting a cat (and gosh, does he miss Jellie, but he’d asked her once if she’d wanted to accompany him, and she’d meowed back with what he’s pretty sure meant no, thank you very much, death games would be terrible for my coat, and that was that), and after he finishes the section he’d been working on, he runs a flat hand over it appreciatively. Grian very generously allows about three seconds of this, punctuated by a slight shake of his shoulders and heavy sigh, before shrugging Scar off.

Moving on to the next part, Scar asks, “How’s life been with Etho and Cleo?”

Scar can see Grian’s slight smile where it raises part of his cheek. “It’s good. They’re weird, but, like, in a good way. Chill.”

“Sounds like them,” Scar says, and murmurs an apology when he plucks a broken feather. Grian hardly flinches, and Scar knows why it must be done, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt every time. “So the Wither, it was your task?”

“Yep,” Grian says, popping the p. “Me and Etho’s, actually. We had to set up a boss fight between the Wither and warden. Definitely didn’t expect it to lock in so heavily on you, though. Sorry about that.”

“A task’s a task, right?” Scar says. “Thanks for saving me, back there.”

The rift Grian had pried open in the server’s code had left a gash without taking hearts; Scar has the ripped sleeve to prove it. Floating between worlds is hardly pleasant, however anchored he’d still technically been to Secret Life, and solid ground upon his return had been a relief. Even more immensely relieving was spotting the Wither on Scott’s tail instead of his own.

Scar doesn’t know why Grian did it. Though friendly enough, they aren’t teamed.

“It’s the least I could’ve done,” Grian answers, and releases his other wing from where he’d been preening it across his lap. “Are you about finished?”

“Almost.” All that’s left are the tiny feathers at the juncture of Grian’s wings and his back, sprouting from the open panel of his shirt. They’re not particularly out of place, but when Scar smooths them down, he’s rewarded with a shiver that reverberates down the length of Grian’s spine. Grian whacks Scar with a wing. “Hey! You’ll mess up my work.”

“Should’ve thought about that,” Grian says primly before he twists to face Scar and pulls his legs up onto the bed. “It’s nap time, anyway.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Scar says, and collapses sideways, pulling Grian down with him.

The outpost feels all that less lonesome when Grian’s tucked into Scar’s side beneath a blanket of feathers. Grian’s warmth is soothing against Scar’s pains, and for all the questions that still buzz behind his eyes, Grian’s presence puts Scar’s somnolent-syruped mind at something close to ease.

Grian traces slow patterns into Scar’s arm. Scar falls asleep trying to decipher what they could be.

—☾—

The footsteps that pad up the mountain long after Lizzie and Jimmy have passed out are a surprise. What little remains of the reputation board still smolders a mere few blocks away from Scar, and his yellow life sits fresh in his chest. He’d assumed their little arrangement had drawn to an explosive end.

“Come to take your revenge?” Scar asks the shadow over him. “It’s against the gentleman's code to kill a guy in his sleep.”

If Scar admits it to himself, he’s happy to see Grian. From nearly the first second Scar had made his bed, Grian had claimed half of it as his own, and Scar would be reluctant to give up his nightly company, with what ease they slot together in and how warm Grian is looped around him. Scar’s teammates have long given up their protest, but Lizzie declares a continual disregard of principle if Grian’s still around by the time she rises from her own slumber.

“I’m still mad at you,” Grian says, and though he can’t see it, Scar can hear his scowl. “Move over.”

Scar graciously complies, and Grian shoves beneath the blanket. He keeps his back towards Scar and his legs curled firmly away, a display that’d achieve more of an effect if his head wasn’t a breath away from Scar’s on the bed’s single pillow. His feathers are ticklish where they brush lightly against Scar.

“You’re about to fall off,” Scar observes.

“Shut up,” comes the grumbled reply. Grudgingly, Grian scoots all of an inch inwards. “It’s none of your business if I choose to sleep on the ground, anyway. It’d be more tolerable than your company.”

Grian would do no such thing, and they both know it. Still, Scar says, “But the thud, skip, and squawk would definitely disrupt my beauty sleep, so it’s really in my best interest to make sure you don’t go tumblin’.”

“I’ll go tumbling if I want to,” Grian answers, tilting his head to the sky to glare at Scar from the corner of his vision, “and it’d be your fault when I die from fall damage. Again.”

“We’re even!” Scar says. “That’s all in the past.”

“We are not even, and that was like, five hours ago!”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Scar challenges.

“That’s different,” Grian says, flat.

Scar pauses. He doesn’t want to antagonize Grian into actually leaving, not really. The steps to their dance have worn well into his soles, and the shape of his partner is familiar between his arms.

He’d missed Grian. For all of their posturing, twirling the line between enemy and friend, to have him by his side once more beneath the winking moon’s light is a gratifying reprieve.

“A truce, then,” Scar eventually says, “if we’re not even.”

“A truce,” Grian agrees. The anger in his voice has faded like lips pulled over once-bared teeth. Scar can’t quite make out what replaces it, but through the tiredness that seeps in along Grian’s edges, Scar’s fairly certain he’s not about to be bit.

“And friends?” Scar teasingly tries. He can envision the scrunch of Grian’s nose as clear as day when he huffs in reply.

“Not friends,” Grian says. “But beyond someone’s cheap shot, we’re not really enemies, are we?”

“Not if you don’t want to be,” Scar says. Something surges out with aching fingers from the cavity between his ribs where two hearts had once beat in tandem. It’s fun to rile Grian up, but what side he stands on hardly matters in stopping Scar, anyway. It’d be nice, he thinks, to not be enemies.

“Though you’re still dead to me,” Grian says, “we’ve had plenty of practice being enemies before. We can stay affably neutral here if you don’t go taking any more dirty kills.”

Scar shrugs and nods, but he can’t help his grin. “Gotta keep it fresh.”

Grian clicks his tongue in the same way he always does when they’ve reached the same conclusion. Scar’s sure that, if he’d been watching Grian instead of the stars above them, he would’ve caught Grian’s accompanying wink.

“Goodnight, Grian,” Scar says, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Scar.” Grian turns fully back onto his side. He scoots in another inch. The blanket undergoes a considerable amount of rearranging before it adequately covers them both.

After everything’s been sorted, Scar reaches out. Grian’s hand meets his own halfway across the mattress. Their linked fingers are awfully close to honesty, and a shared pillow is the nearest Scar’s ever been to trust.

A truce hums behind Scar’s eyelids, and he lets the darkness pull him under.

“And we’re best friends?”

“We’re best friends.”

The sun is shining and the morning feels ripe with opportunity when Scar wakes. Grian’s hold on Scar is fierce even in sleep, and Scar takes a moment to bask in it.

It’s all a bit hard to fully wrap his mind around. They’re allies again—no, better yet, friends. The sensation is apricity against frost-nipped fingers. It’s the light of a campfire and the jaunty melody of the song shared around it. It’s home.

After a tick or two—Grian’s never been one to let too much of the day’s beginning go to waste—Grian shifts and blinks the bleariness from his eyes. Scar’s chest feels impossibly aglow with fondness.

“Hi,” Grian says when he lifts his gaze to Scar’s face.

“Good morning,” Scar says, and, just to make sure: “Best friend?”

Grian snorts. “I meant it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

There’s a mace tucked away somewhere in his inventory, and a thousand things piled between them. Scar remembers sand, and wood, and stone; he remembers sleep-warm skin and linens as soft as a death game can afford beneath his fingertips.

Scar kisses Grian, once, just to feel his startled laugh against his own mouth. They rise in staggered tandem, and Grian pressed his lips to Scar’s temple before disappearing down the mountainside to rejoin his team.

Smiling, Scar stretches his shoulders with a satisfying crack, and goes off to find his own.

[racinggirl]

furthest from truth

Lando Norris fic - requested

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a/n: I'm baaack! It's been a while, I have to admit. But after having 3 new requests today, I got motivated again and I decided to write the ones that were yet to be posted on my page. I hope you like it! I've added some spice to the end of the chapter 👀 Don't forget to follow me so you won't miss my other stories! 🫶🏼

Sun. Beach. Sand. Friends.

It might look cliché, but it’s what filled your hearts with joy.

‘’Norris! Give me a hand, will ya?’’ Your lips pulled away from those of your boyfriend the moment he got up to help one of your friends with preparing the jet skis.  

‘’Finally,’’ your best friend, Ava, laughed as she took a seat next to you. ‘’Now that your lips are no longer glued to his, what do you think of grabbing a drink, I’m in a desperate need for a Frozen Daiquiri.’’

She pulled you up on your feet after you agreed on getting drinks. It was your holiday, after all, and even though it was just your first day of the 3-week holiday here in Dubai, you were planning on making it the best holiday yet.

You and Lando had been together for a little over 5 months now, the two of you bumping into each other at last year’s Christmas Market in London. You spilled your bottle of water over your shirt, and he was determined to win you a teddy bear so he could make it up to you.

After that Christmas Market, you went on a ton of dates. In London, but also in Monaco, as that was where he lived. You attended 3 races before he finally asked you to be his last summer, and obviously you said yes, otherwise this story is kind of weird, isn’t it?

Anyways, you knew who he was when you met him, having watched a few races here and there, along with your friends.

The moment you told your friends Lando had asked you out on a date, they couldn’t contain their excitement and practically forced you to go out with him. So, you did. And here we are, almost a year later.

‘’Two Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri, please.’’ Ava ordered the drinks for the two of you and once you felt the cold glass in your hand, you immediately took a sip.

‘’Urgh,’’ you groaned, your eyes closed. ‘’Best drink ever.’’ You giggled.

‘’Lando! Oh my god watch out!’’ Your grip on his life jacket was tight as he was riding the jet ski with you on the back. ‘’You idiot!’’ You laughed, hands gripping his shoulders firmly when you felt him go even faster – if that was even possible.

‘’You’re riding a jet ski with an F1 driver, love. Did you really think I was gonna go slow?’’ You groaned at his reply, and you simply held onto him like you could fall off any moment, which was probably the case.

Everything sport related was a game to him, and he was very, very competitive. He hated losing, which is why he tried his hardest to make you his, with success.

‘’Okay, okay, enough speed for me, let’s go back to the shore and have dinner, I’m starving.’’ You breathe, Lando’s hand moving over your leg slowly. He lifted his hand till it rested on your outer thigh, whilst still steering the jet ski with one hand. Slower, though, thankfully.

‘’We will, love, we will.’’ He said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice, his tone, teasingly with a smirk.

‘’Lan-…’’ You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your boyfriend pulled the right handle towards him, the two of you flying over the water. He made sure to keep an eye on you, but he knew you enjoyed this, and he wasn’t wrong.

You might tell him to stop going fast, heck, even in the bedroom you’d tell him to stop, but it was always with that flirty and teasing tone. He knew that tone, and he knew it meant you did not want him to, in fact, stop. So, he kept going.

‘’I should have thought better before signing that contract about us.’’

You were fully drenched, Lando obviously pushing the strings too hard which caused you to fall off the jet ski. Nothing harsh, it was all playful, and the two of you were laughing when it happened.

‘’You’re an idiot.’’ You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully as you squeezed the salty water out of your hair.

‘’I know, but you like it.’’ He teased, slapping your ass lightly as his hand moved its way towards your hip, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. ‘’I love you.’’

Dinner, which was absolutely insane – mostly because you were starving, but definitely because it was one of the best restaurants here in Dubai.

‘’Ehm..’’ Ava shoved you her phone, and you immediately let your eyes wander over the tweets, the Instagram posts, and the articles.

Lando saw the worried look on your face, so he cut off the conversation with his friends and pointed his attention to you, causing his friends to do the same.

‘’What’s wrong, love?’’ He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your knee as his gaze went from you to the phone, back to you.

You showed him the articles, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. You could see his jaw clench, the apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. ‘’They really need to make rumours about everything, don’t they?’’ He sighed and pressed a kiss to your temple.

‘’Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll fix it, we’ll post a statement on Insta, alright?’’ He said, his arms wrapping around you which caused you to relax.

You felt guilty, because you were aware of the eyes that were on him now that his contract with McLaren was coming to an end. You knew his contract was getting renewed, but the world didn’t, and you didn’t want to cause issues.

People blaming McLaren for not renewing his contract, and how this. People blaming McLaren for forcing Lando to be in a relationship with you, a PR relationship, which was the furthest from the truth. You loved each other so much, and McLaren had absolutely nothing to do with the two of you.

‘’Come here.’’ Lando’s arms made his way around your shoulders, his strong arms pulling you even closer to his chest. The bed was comfy, soft, but the tension in your face was apparent, especially to Lando.

‘’I just, I feel so stupid for saying that.’’ You sighed but Lando reassured you immediately.

‘’Babe, it’s not the first time we say this, it’s our joke, and people don’t get it, apparently. You know how the media is, they exaggerate everything to get those views and clicks, so they probably overheard you saying that, but did not see the look on your face, or your beautiful smile when you said that.’’ His voice was soft and calm, like he was not stressed at all about this.

‘’But the image McLa-..’’

‘’No, baby, no. That’s not your fault, okay? They should have probably announced the contract extension sooner, yeah, but that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever you said at the beach, okay?’’ He said, stern, but gentle. And you believed him. Of course you did, you believed everything he would tell you because you knew he was right.

‘’Now let’s make that post so people will stop complaining about things that are the furthest from the truth. That, and so I can take you tonight because I really, really want to.’’ He whispered the last thing with a voice so deep, you felt chills all over your body.

landonorris added to his story

landonorris & yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 1,273,710 others

I love you more than anyone imagine. Nothing can stop us, I promise you. Best decision I've ever made 🧡

view all 39,264 comments

user1 I feel ashamed

user5 as you should user3 we all should. how could we think it was just a PR. they are in love in love.

user2 You are so so so cute together!

‘’Lando, fuck, stop!’’ You breathe, hands pushing against his chest as he looked into your eyes, his bright ones a few shades darker than usually. He smirked, wetted his lips before thrusting even harder… Just how you asked.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part five! here we meet again. Thank you for everyone who is reading this mess! 🤍✨

warning: lots of past trauma, Illyrian camp kind of trauma, anxiety, kids because some of you said it was a warning, same old things.

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Azriel's eyes were burning. It truly felt as if someone had dumped a bag of sand into his head and given it a little shake. But he didn't regret it. He wouldn't have done it any other way. As heartbreaking as the situation was, he didn't want to be anywhere doing anything else. That had frightened him when the late hours of the night first struck, and Azriel was the only one awake. It had clawed at his soul, urging him to flee like he was used to. Before it all got too real. All got too personal. Before Azriel started... to feel.

He was the one who had gone down to look for Zofie. You were barely standing on your own two feet. Swaying and cold as the snowflakes that Azriel had dreamed of the previous night. No, he told himself as he walked down the corridor; no one was dying here today. He wouldn't let it. He would bargain with fate if he had to. But would he? Yes, he was protective of his family. But he had known Cassian and Rhys for almost all of his life. Loving their mates came in the package. It was an honor to protect them. Loving Elain... Azriel realized that the thought of her, the thought of whatever had been happening or more of what Azriel hoped had been happening, hadn't crossed his mind as much lately. Was he forgetting Elain already? Was it never as serious as he had claimed?

Azriel found Zofie sitting on one of the stone steps in the communal. There were several females next to her, talking to her. But the girl sat firm as stone herself, arms folded over her chest, rosy cheeks damp with the tears she had wept. Only now did Azriel realize that he had never asked if the two kids were related. Siblings? Same family tree? Or were they just brought here and fallen in love with each other by destiny?

Her eyes found him almost immediately. Azriel could tell that she was fighting the urge to do what she always did when he was around—hide. But the flame that blazed within her kept her put. She was no bigger than Azriel's forearm, yet she stared him down as if she would find a way to escape him if she had to. Azriel folded his wings behind him, once again trying to appear smaller and once again realizing that there was not much he could do about it.

"You must eat, and sitting here won't change anything", one of the females stated, but Zofie had her gaze glued on Azriel. Urging him silently to sort this out. One stubborn girl, he thought to himself before he stepped closer, grabbing everyone's attention. "If you don't mind, I'll take it from here", he cringed slightly at how stern his voice sounded. Who in their right mind would leave a child with someone like him? He sure wouldn't do it himself. "You know him?", the female turned to Zofie. The girl contemplated her answer for a moment. "Axel's friend", she muttered. The room fell silent, and Azriel was about to fall into a long explanation when the female handed him a brown teddy bear, "She hasn't eaten lunch, and it's way past dinner time too. Find a way to feed her, please". Great, Azriel thought to himself, how he found himself in these situations over the past few weeks he was unsure of, but... The mortified eyes of them both sinking into the river flashed in front of Azriel. Those same eyes were looking at him now.

Azriel turned the teddy in his arms and asked, "Does he have a name?" if only his enemies saw him now. He would not be able to frighten a single soul. "Earless", the voice was so quiet that Azriel was grateful for his strong sense of hearing. "He only has one ear", the girl continued, pointing at the bear. "Quite straightforward", Azriel muttered, "Ear for short?", the girl nodded.

Azriel watched her for a moment before he crouched down to her level. "Okay, listen", he muttered under his breath, only to be met by Zofie's palm in front of him. "No, you listen", her voice was weary, and the way she shushed him had Azriel raising his brows. But it was when she spoke that his heart finally shattered that day, "Will you hurt Axel?"—the question that sounded so innocent on her lips, left such a bitter taste in Azriel's mouth. "No, of course, no. I don't want to hurt anyone", Azriel had opted to say but got interrupted by the girl once more, "And Y/N?". The spymaster's heart gave a louder thump at the sound of your name. As if urging itself into life. "Zofie, I ain't going to hurt anyone", Azriel's voice was strong yet gentle. "You promise?", her eyes had sparkled with hope. And, Mother, had Azriel forgotten just how powerful hope could be. He reached out his scared palm toward her, "On everything", Azriel muttered. Zofie held a firm gaze. To be this weary and strong-willed at such a young age. She was a baby. Everyone around her was meant to protect her. And yet here she was... But all of Azriel's thoughts died down as her tiny hand wrapped around his finger.

Now Azriel wondered if he hadn't overstepped with a promise like that. Was he once again trying to dig an easier path for himself? He had known what the girl wanted; it wasn't hard to guess. Someone who listened. Who heard her. Who was willing to fight for the little family she had found. Family that she was willing to protect. The weight of letting everyone down loomed over Azriel. Hanging there heavily. Pressing down on his chest. Drumming against his ribcage.

But all it took was the feeling of your hand moving over his chest. The weight of Axel's head on his lap. The feeling of a tiny frame pressed to his other side for it all to die down. Three slumbering frames. Grounding him without any clue. Breaking apart the stormy clouds. Something primal rumbled inside Azriel. Protesting against his fear. He had to keep these three heartbeats safe. He was willing to go the extra mile. He found himself thinking that if he was to find the people responsible... Find the camp. Oh, he would unleash his darkest demons upon them. Anyone who dared to inflict any harm

"Breathe", a delicate voice pulled at Azriel's consciousness. Guiding him. Guiding him back into his body. He blinked a couple of times. His gaze darted down to find your tired eyes looking up at him. "You're trembling", you muttered. Back in the day, Azriel would have taken a statement like that as an insult, but now he glanced at his hands. And he did find them shaky. But not for long. Not after you moved to lace your fingers with his.

"Did you have any nightmares?", Azriel had wanted to ask you how you'd known something like that. But then he remembered last night. Remembered the fear. Remembered... But it all drowned out at the thought of you. As if you rested his thoughts to bed. He shook his head. "Did you manage to sleep?", you asked, and Azriel jerked his head once more. "Azriel...", you breathed out, and oh, how much strength it took for him to not ask you to say it again. Because he had never cared much for his name. It didn't matter to him. People could call him however they pleased. But there was just something about the way you said it. The way it lingered. No bitterness. No...

"Hey, you're with me?", your soft palm guiding his face towards you. How many broken souls were in this room? How many hearts need healing? All of them, truthfully. And something about that realization made Azriel grow anxious. These kids, you—he could see you all healing the pieces that weren't even broken by you. Azriel took a shaky breath. His hand held onto your hip firmly. The shadows that sprung out of his control made him jump slightly. "Y/N", and Azriel knew that tiny voice, the weight from his side disappearing. "It's okay, grab a pillow for Axel's head, munchkin", you urge the girl softly, trying not to let the worry show. But the girl sat there, her eyes on Azriel. "It's just panic, Zo; we get those too, remember?", you reassure her, reaching for Azriel's hands and wrapping them around your middle.

You had a feeling he suffered from them. Had to. His head was too full of sorrow, worries, and guilt. And yet what he failed to see was that he was the only one holding his head under the water. "Come back", you whispered, trying to meet Azriel's eyes. Yet he was so deep in his mind. You could tell from the way his eyes had grown dull and ashy. So you did what you do best, pressing your palm to his chest, and your hand warmed. The glowing seeped through his skin. Sprouting. You reached for his face once more, slowly guiding his head onto his shoulder, catching it just in time as his body finally sagged. Pulling him under just like the very first time you two met.

"You can't leave them unpunished", you said through gritted teeth. Padme had asked for you to come to her office. And the conversation that had stretched out was making your blood boil, and your blood rarely boiled. "Y/N, they are kids", the high priestess said calmly. You huffed out a frustrated laugh, "Who needs to learn the weight of their actions." This whole conversation was making you see red. Yes, you were more protective of the two. Yes, you had made them your priority. But what you were asking wasn't something that couldn't be carried out.

"They are on the sanctuary duty list", Padme said almost in a dismissive manner. "P, you know...", you stepped closer to her table. You had seen her as a mother figure. Since the day you were brought here, she had been stern and rough around the edges, but she was fair. She was always fair. "Let's turn the question around", she said, lowering her pen, her eyes blazing at you, "Why are they still huddled around you like lost puppies? You know the rules". You bite the inside of your cheek. Fists clenched beside your sides.

If she saw it, she chose to ignore it, jabbing even harder, "You've been my most loyal worker, and you took a tumble with...", you shook your head. "Don't", you plead silently. Yet she doesn't seem to care about your wounds tonight, "The shadowsinger", "Don't do this,", you stated softly, your eyes already burning. You didn't need to lift your head to know that she had that tight smile on her face. "The days of all of this are counted; you do know that?" And you knew. You knew this wasn't for forever.

This place wasn't for forever. These people weren't. Azriel wasn't. You reached deeper into yourself, holding the broken pieces together and letting the wounds blend out. "I serve the sanctuary. My intentions haven't wavered", you said, letting your words seep through your gritted teeth. You feel the flicker of the flames within your body dying. You looked at the woman in front of you. Looked until the pain turned into nothing more than numbness.

"I'm going to start having issues with your hands. It's the second time", Azriel's voice found you in the hallway. You bit your lip as you turned to him before your face turned neutral. "How are you feeling? Are you able to breathe? Did you have another bad dream?", but Azriel quickly cupped your face, making the sound of your voice die down. "I'm fine; stop worrying", he muttered, his eyes locked on you. The tightness in your chest from that conversation with Padme eased. "If you can boss me around, so can I", You jabbed your fingers at his chest, moving away from him slightly.

"They are playing together. Axel was sitting up when I slipped outside", you gazed, darting back to him. How did he know that your mind just wandered back to the kids? How did he always seem to know? You nodded slowly. "We stretched our wings", Azriel muttered, your eyes pooled with worry and Azriel caught onto that quickly. "I was careful, and for the record, I have wings too. So...", Azriel said but you just shook your head. "It's good that you did. He just...", you let out a sigh, "Axel had never done that with anyone besides me".

Azriel couldn't help but frown, "He doesn't stretch his...", "His father was the one who broke the bones when Axel was trying to protect his siblings", the words just slipped past your lips. Azriel stiffened, his hands falling to his sides. "I found him all mangled up in the cellar when we were in one of the camps. His birth wasn't even marked in the books", Azriel had a feeling where this was heading. He had a feeling that twisted his guts. "Bastard didn't note it so he could do whatever he wanted", the spymaster finished, and from the sadness in your eyes, he knew that his words struck truth.

"Besides the pain, it causes Axel when he moves the wings", you continued, "He's just terrified... He said that every time he tried to fly back in the camp, his father...", "Don't even call that man Axel's father; he doesn't deserve that title. No male who puts their hands on a child...", Azriel snarled through gritted teeth. He turned away from you once he realized that his anger was boiling over the edge of his composure. Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. An ache ran deep within your chest. You had a feeling that this pain of his ran deep for a reason.

You second-guessed your next move. The way his shoulders stiffened, you could guess that the male was in fight mode. Yet you stepped closer, carrying yourself between the arches of Azriel's wings and carefully wrapping your arms around his torso from the back. Azriel took a deep breath before his palms wrapped around your smaller ones.

"I want to teach him how to fly and how to heal these scares", his voice was barely audible—the quietest you've ever heard him. "You know he'll love it. You bring sides of him that he holds close to his chest", you breathed against his back. "He's a good kid", Azriel stated, "He reminds me a lot of myself when I was his age". You can hear the ache in his words. Yet they don't surprise you. You could see it from the way Azriel looked at Axel. There were things only they understood. The pain that they both endured and that now linked them in ways no one else could comprehend. As if they were meant to find one another. As if Azriel was always destined to end up here.

"It looks better", your hand was softly inspecting the boning of Axel's wing. "It doesn't even hurt", he stated, his legs bouncing as he moved on the bed. "Can you spread them out?", you said gently. That's how the past couple of days have been. You only felt your anxiety subside when you saw Axel moving his wings. The anxiety that was way too deeply rooted within you. He tried to. You could tell, but the leather didn't even twitch. You bit the inside of your cheek.

Azriel pulled away from the wall he was leaning against, "Can you feel my fingers here", he asked, pressing the finger beneath the wing and leaning to the side to watch Axel's face. The boy nodded, and Azriel followed suit. "These are the main muscles in your back that support your wings", the spymaster explained, "Can you try to flex them?". And that's how it had been. That's how he had been. No matter what Axel did, he was always there. And no matter what Azriel said, it always made the inner flame in Axel burn brighter. It scared you. It scared you even more now because the conversation with Padem had been playing in your head without stopping. This is not forever. The time for this was counted. And you would get through it. You'll suck up the pain, but what about the kids? What about Axel? He looked at Azriel as if the male carried the whole world around in his palm. And Zofie? Who had been convicted that Earless had to go with Azriel if he was having panic attacks?

A fluster caught your eye, and a gasp slipped through your lips. Axel was holding onto Azriel's hand with both of his. The male had a firm grip on the boy's back, but the most important thing was that Axel was moving his wings. Slowly and not at all in a seamless manner, but he was moving them. "Good job", Azriel said, right as an excited shriek slipped from Axel. "Let them rest now, boy. Don't strain yourself", Azriel ruffled his hair. "Did you see it?", Axel's gaze was darting between you two, and you couldn't help but laugh. "I did, Ax", you leaned closer to him, kissing his cheek and making him squirm in your arms. You frowned slightly. "Are you suddenly too big for my love?", you asked him with a gasp. Axel whipped at his cheek, "Azriel is here. He's a soldier", the boy whispered, "Soldiers don't do that". You couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. Catching Azriel with a smirk on his face as he stood there, "I let you in on a secret", the spymaster said, and Axel nodded eagerly, "If a lady as beautiful and kind as Y/N were to smother a soldier, he wouldn't run", and he says it without breaking eye contact with you. All you could do was blink at him. Watch that smile of his blooming.

You were grateful for the cold wind that danced in your hair as you stood on the upper balcony. There was always something soothing about the wind. The way it sang as it flowed through the land. You knew that you should feel at ease. Everything was fine. Axel was napping, and Zofie agreed to go to her dance lessons. You had smoothed things over with Padme. But something felt off. Something was missing. Like an itch that you knew about but just couldn't seem to scratch. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Somewhere deep inside, you knew what was missing, but you didn't allow yourself to chase that thought. The fact that someone was able to shake your inner walls so easily and so quickly...

You felt his presence as if you had summoned him. As if he had a way of slipping through your mental shields. "You're going to catch a cold", you felt a cloak being draped around your shoulders, followed by a firm hold on your shoulders, and Azriel's wings warping you up, shielding you from the wind. "Be careful; the mother hen within you is showing", you teased him softly. It all felt so odd. The looks. The stolen touches. The way he was there. Always there as if he had indeed turned into your shadow.

You dared to glance up at him. Regretting that choice instantly because of the golden eyes that looked down at you.

"I got told off for tying the too-too wrong", Azriel stated, making you let out a laugh. You would trust Zofie to boss him around. "My tying technique is terrible, but she said I wasn't a lost cause", Azriel said as he shook his head. "One of them has to keep you humbled", you smirked at him. Azriel quickly pulled his wings up, making the wind crash into you. You shrieked before falling into fits of laughter, hair all over your face as you stared at the male in front of you.

Azriel was brisk to brush your hair out of your face as if it was second nature. As if he had been doing that for decades. As if he knew you for decades. Your eyes met, and for what felt like a thousand times, you let yourself get lost in him. Letting him look at you with the same crackling longing. The same way he had run his eyes over your body last night.

And you were convinced that you weren't thinking clearly. This wasn't you. Because you were not ready to admit this, but you muttered, "Kiss me...". You scanned as the muscles in his jaw tightened. The way his nostrils flared. You were convinced that you looked like a desperate girl because of the way you were nearly reaching on your tippy toes to meet his lips. Hand pressed against the toned muscles of his chest. But Azriel doesn't lean in. Doesn't come any closer. He just watches you. Thumb caressing the side of your cheek.

"Azriel", you muttered. Suddenly you become painfully aware of the fact that you must have read this all wrong. Must have moved too fast. He was here because of another woman. He was here because he loved someone he couldn't have, and here you were offering yourself as some easy piece of lamb. Azriel shook his head as if he had read your thoughts. Both of his palms reached up to hold your face, and your hands instantly reached to wrap around his wrists. "If I kiss you...", he breathed out after a long while. And from the sound of how raspy his words were, you knew it was taking a whole lot of effort for him to say anything now, "If I kiss you, I'll never be able to walk away", a breath hitched in your throat as you staggered to pull away. Feeling the splintering pain of your broken heart, cracking all over. But his hold doesn't ease; doesn't let you move away, as he states, "Rhys wants me back".

[i-heart-slashers]

Chance Encounters

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Dwayne x gender neutral!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A chance encounter cheers you up while on the boardwalk but was it really a chance encounter?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.7 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | n/a

The salty breeze swept through the boardwalk, carrying with it the laughter of children, the sizzle of fried food, and the distant melody of carnival music.

Among the crowds of people strolling along the wooden planks, you walked with purpose, eyes fixed on the colorful array of games lining the bustling strip.

You had always been drawn to the challenge of carnival games, the promise of winning a coveted prize lighting a spark of determination within you.

Today was no different. Pockets jingling with coins and a heart full of optimism, you made your way to one of the many game booths adorned with oversized stuffed animals dangling tantalizingly from above.

The game was simple enough—toss rings onto bottles, and if one landed just right, victory and a plush reward awaited.

With practiced precision, you flicked your wrist, sending ring after ring spiraling through the air. But each attempt fell short, missing the mark by mere inches or bouncing off the bottles with frustrating defiance.

Undeterred, you persisted, your determination growing with each failed toss. Time seemed to blur as you continue your quest, coins slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Yet, despite your best efforts, the elusive victory remained just out of reach.

As the sun descended towards the horizon, casting an amber glow over the boardwalk before blossoming into purple-blue, you finally admitted defeat.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back from the game booth, hands empty and spirits deflated.

Despite your best efforts and a considerable dent in your wallet, the teddy bear remained firmly perched atop its pedestal, mocking you with its unattainable allure.

Once so tempting, the lure of the prize now felt like a distant dream.

With a sad sigh, you pulled yourself together, and just as you turned to leave, a voice broke through the din of the crowd. "Hey there, having trouble?"

You turned to see a figure standing beside you, walking from the shadows of a nearby alley, with a warm but mysterious smile on his lips. "Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is all you need," he offered, gesturing towards the game with a playful grin. "I'm Dwayne"

Blinking, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of curiosity as he gestured toward the game booth with a casual tilt of his head. "Mind if I give it a shot?"

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. But something about Dwayne's easy charm and genuine kindness put you at ease, and you found yourself nodding in agreement.

Giving him a small smile, you stepped aside, watching with a mix of anticipation and skepticism as Dwayne approached the booth. In one fluid motion, he picked up a ring, his movements confident and precise.

With a flick of his wrist, the ring sailed through the air, spinning gracefully before landing with a satisfying clink on the neck of a bottle. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Dwayne repeated the feat not once but twice more, each toss hitting its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

You could scarcely believe your eyes as Dwayne turned back to you, a triumphant grin lighting up his face. "Looks like we've got a winner," he said as if there was no doubt he'd win.

At that moment, as the carnival lights flickered overhead and the sounds of jubilation filled the air, you felt a spark ignite within you. It wasn't just the thrill of victory or the allure of the prize that captivated you, but something deeper.

"Looks like we make a pretty good team," he remarked, holding out the plush prize for you to take.

You accepted the oversized stuffed animal from Dwayne with a mix of gratitude and awe. As you reached out to accept the bear, your hands brushed together, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins.

"Wow. This is exactly what I wanted," you said with a shocked laugh.

Dwayne offers to carry the oversized plush as he leads you down the boardwalk, seemingly taking the initiative to hang out with you without stating it as you follow his lead wordlessly.

For some reason, your hand itched to reach out and take his— but for obvious reasons, you don't.

As you walked along the boardwalk again, the plush prize tucked securely under his arm, you knew that this chance encounter had sparked something that would stay with you long after the carnival lights had dimmed.

You couldn't help but feel the weight of the evening's events settle into a gentle warmth. Dwayne walked beside you, his presence both comforting and protective. Now tinged with twilight's soft hues, the carnival's atmosphere seemed to pulse with an enchanting rhythm.

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincere gratitude. "I was about to give up."

Dwayne's smile broadened, a light chuckle escaping his lips. "Sometimes, it just takes a fresh perspective," he replied. "Or a bit of luck." His voice teases something more knowing, but that was lost on you.

Nodding, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to this man you had just met, who was clearly comfortable walking around shirtless under that jacket.

You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths had crossed for a reason. "Do you come here often?" you asked, trying to prolong the conversation but grimacing at the question you uttered.

"Every night," Dwayne said, his gaze drifting over the bustling boardwalk. "I have a lot of brothers, and chaos on the boardwalk is a nightly routine for us. Plus, I enjoy the energy— people-watching is sort of my thing."

"Your thing?" you found yourself eager to learn more about him.

"I'm a… free spirit, you could say," Dwayne explained. "Having a lot of time gives me the freedom to come here when I want. And you? What brings you to the boardwalk?"

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to share. "I just moved here, and I guess the boardwalk attracted me. Something about the carnival games, the lights, it all feels so nostalgic."

Dwayne nodded in understanding. "I get that. There's a certain magic here, isn't there?"

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of your footsteps blending with the ambient noise of the carnival. You glanced at the stuffed animal tucked under his arm—a giant, fluffy bear with a cheerful expression.

It was a stark contrast to the earlier frustration you had felt.

"Want to grab a bite?" Dwayne suggested, breaking the silence as his eyes roam over you with a deeper meaning before he grins. "I know a place that does amazing food."

You feel something warm inside you at his question, whether it was him caring for your hunger or just wanting to spend more time with you. Either way, you were eager to follow his lead.

With a shared smile, you made your way to a nearby food stand, the tantalizing aroma of fried dough and powdered sugar guiding your steps.

As you waited in line, Dwayne's easygoing nature made the conversation flow effortlessly; he asked questions and then listened. You talked about favorite memories, childhood dreams, and the small joys of life.

When your order was ready, you found a quiet place to sit, the stuffed bear occupying its own place near you. The first bite of the warm, sugary treat was blissful, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.

"Delicious, right?" Dwayne said, his eyes twinkling with amusement as his eyes roamed your face almost as if trying to savor that instead of the food.

"Absolutely," you agreed, taking another bite. "You weren't kidding."

You continued to chat, the evening unfolding around you both like a storybook. The lights of the carnival rides twinkled in the background, casting a soft glow over their conversation. You found yourselves laughing more than you had in a long time, the stress and disappointment of the earlier game wholly forgotten.

As the night wore on, you wandered through the boardwalk, enjoying the various sights and sounds. You played a few more games, and your competitive spirits were ignited by friendly banter.

Dwayne proved to be skilled at more than just ring toss, winning a couple of smaller prizes, which he generously handed over to you.

"You're really good at these," you remarked, both impressed and envious.

Dwayne shrugged modestly. "Years of practice. As I said, my brothers and I have lived here for a long time. Plus, it's all about having fun, right?"

You couldn't argue with that. You were having fun, more than you had initially anticipated. As you reached the end of the boardwalk, the ocean stretched out before you, the waves illuminated by the moonlight.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dwayne said, his voice soft as he looked out at the water.

"It is," you agreed, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over them. "Thanks for tonight, Dwayne. It was… unexpected, but in the best way." being with him somehow felt natural, like he was always supposed to be there.

Dwayne turned to face you; his expression was sincere. "I'm glad I could make your night better. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones we don't see coming."

You smiled, feeling a flutter of something akin to hope. "So, do you think I'll see you again?"

Dwayne's smile was warm and reassuring, but it also reflected a knowing look, like you were a new part of his life now. "I'll make sure of it." He grinned as he said your name smoothly as he bid you farewell.

As you said your goodbyes, you couldn't help but feel this was just the beginning of something special. Your stomach tightened in an excited expression akin to a schoolgirl crush.

You can see him walk towards a group dressed similarly, like him on a bike. A wild blonde patted him on the shoulder with a wide grin, and a smaller guy waggled his fingers at you in a wave.

Turning away as a blush heated up your skin, you started to make your way back home. You grinned, walking past the final few stands on the way out.

With its lights and laughter, the boardwalk will always hold a special place in your heart. But tonight, it had given them something more—a chance encounter that felt like destiny.

Meeting someone who turned a moment of disappointment into a night of unforgettable memories.

As you carried your prizes home, it suddenly struck you that you had not introduced yourself in the flurry of frustration at the game.

So, how did Dwayne know your name?

[malarign]

hug me

(how hugs with them would be like)

contains: bf!ot7 x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! very very clingy enha, just like we all like, let me know if i should add something though! | wc: 2,6k

author’s note: i’ve seen so many posts about enha and hugs so i decided not to post it, but tbh i kinda like it so hope you’ll do too!

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ cuddling *ೃ༄

something about heeseung screams to me

“i’m comfy, come here let’s cuddle 🥰”

ESPECIALLY since not a long time ago, jake said he’s like a teddy bear

and i couldn’t agree more

look at him

if you don’t agree go find some brains 🥱

“Babe…” Heeseung whined, dragging out the last syllable. “I’m cold without you,” he said more quietly now that you threw him a daring glare across the room.

“Please be patient, Hee. Once I’m finished with this I’m all yours,” you said, focusing on the screen of your computer.

You heard a long sigh behind you and couldn’t help but smile.

“Never thought it’s possible to miss your partner when they’re on the other side of the room. I guess that’s possible only if they’re a complete workaholic and don’t mind neglecting their lovely boyfriend,” he mumbled, curling into a small ball, a blanket covering his whole body, except his face.

“Are you done whining?” you asked, laughing at his dramatic reaction.

“Are you done neglecting me?” He faced you.

“Yes, can you let me under the blanket now?”

Your words made his face brighten and the next thing you knew was him pulling you into his warm embrace.

“Would be nice to be able to breathe, you know?” you spoke, voice muffled by the fabrics of his hoodie and blanket combined.

“Huh? Can’t hear you,” he said in a serious tone, uncovering your face and cupping it with his hands. “You have to either speak louder or not cover your mouth.”

His sarcastic tone made you close your eyes in fury, but it disappeared the moment he placed a few feather-like pecks on your forehead and eyelids. Pulling away he noticed your dreamy smile and closed eyes in serenity. Feeling his lips leaving your skin, you pouted, pointing to your lips.

“You forgot something.”

Without wasting any second he leaned in to plant a soft kiss, bringing you closer with every movement of his lips against yours. His arms around your form tightened their grip, leaving no space for a grain of sand between you, just like both of you liked it the most.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ long hugs *ೃ༄

okay this might be unexpected

but cmon he’s a softie

a little longer hug makes him melt

would bury his face in the crook of your neck

and be happy for the rest of his day 😊

You peacefully started preparing breakfast when you heard pretty heavy and probably sleepy footsteps. You turned around and saw him, walking to the kitchen island with half-opened eyes. You smiled at the endearing view.

Taking a chance of him not beating fully conscious, you spoke in a baby voice: “Good morning. How did my baby sleep?”

He looked at you confused but proceeded to answer, matching your tone. “Good, but I missed my personal heater.” He squinted his eyes, referring to you leaving bed before him.

“Sorry, I wanted to treat you to some breakfast.” You turned around to continue cooking, now pouring pancake batter on the frying pan.

“But it’s always me who prepares breakfast,” he said with a hint of whine in his voice.

“Exactly. It’s my turn,” you said and threatened him with a spatula, waving it in front of him. He chuckled and lazily rubbed his eyes for clearer vision.

Soon you felt how his arms wrapped around your waist, stroking your sides with his fingers. His nose poked your neck, feeling tickles every time the air he breathed out hit your skin. You turned around to feel his warmth better and snaked your arms around his shoulders. He hummed in satisfaction of the closeness between you two and smiled dreamily.

“I could stay like this forever, y’know?” he murmured against your skin.

“Me too, but you need to let me go now, the pancakes are gonna burn.” Instead of loosening his grip around you, he tightened it. “Jay, at least turn off the stove,” you chuckled at his usual morning clinginess. His right hand reached to do as you said and quickly moved back to your waist.

“Pancakes can wait.”

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ “don’t go” hugs *ೃ༄

he’s kinda like jay

but MORE you know what i’m saying?

the moment you hug him there’s no going back

doesn’t matter if you have to leave for work or go back to cooking

you 🫵 are not going anywhere 😇

You ran around your apartment while Jake watched you calmly, sipping on his morning coffee every once in a while.

“It would be quite nice if you helped me a little. You see I’m in a hurry,” you huffed, packing your stuff into your tote bag.

“That would mean you will leave earlier. Which also leads to me missing you earlier. And spending less time with you and…” he started counting all the cons of helping you.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you can’t live without me, I know,” you interrupted him. “But you’ll see me in a while,”

He rolled his eyes. “In a while? Meaning after your job so in like 9 to 10 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“You could also just pick me up after I’m done dealing with those pricks.” You sent him a pleading look.

“Weird way to call your clients. I’ll think about it,” Jake said and stood up from his seat and engulfed your body, trying his best not to rumple your shirt. “Did you eat your breakfast?”

“No,” you said honestly, laying your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

“Well, did you at least pack some lunch?”

“I didn’t have time to prepare one.” You bit your lips at the thought of having to waste your time on break.

“Thankfully, your amazing boyfriend prepared you one, while you were maniacally looking for your ID. I don’t understand why you can’t just keep it in one place,” he said, continuously patting your back.

You faced him and pecked his lips quickly. “You’re the best.”

You tried to break free from his arms but the more you tried the more he didn’t want to let go. “Jake,” you said in a warning tone.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “You still have a minute or two.”

“What should I do with you?” You shook your head in disbelief and just melted in his touch.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ coat hugs *ೃ༄

okay, listen

sunghoon + cold days >>>

our ice prince just fits winter so perfectly

but seeing you freezing makes him just want to squeeze it away from you

that’s why he covers you with his coat and ugh it would be so warm :((

You waited at the train station, shaking slightly as the acute wind hit your body. Sunghoon’s train was a bit late, which he warned you about. Still, you being you, were there 10 minutes too early, since you couldn’t stand being late.

You heard a faint sound of a notification. “One more station, hope you dressed warmly.” You could already sense the scolding you were going to listen to once he sees you. Sunghoon knew very well of your habit of dressing not according to the weather, though without his help you weren’t able to choose how warmly you should dress. You tried to text him back, but your fingers were already frozen and you couldn’t aim to the right buttons.

Thankfully his train soon arrived at the station and once the passengers started to get off, you tried to spot your boyfriend. Squinting your eyes you spotted his tall silhouette, along with his displeased expression.

He walked to your shaking body and nodded slightly. “Now I see why you didn’t reply to me.”

“Well, hello to you too,” you scoffed at his comment. Without saying a word he unbuttoned his coat and engulfed you in his arms. You nestled up to him and wrapped your arms under his coat.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said against your hair, and you felt how blood rushed to your cheeks. “Are you at least a little more warm now?” he asked and felt your nod in response. “Do you want to go now?” You shook your head. “Is this how we’re going to communicate now?” he chuckled and laughed when he felt another nod from you.

You raised your head from his chest to face him. Climbing on your toes you placed a cold and delicate kiss on his lips. You wanted to cup his cheeks but just when your hands touched his skin he hissed at the freezing feeling.

“Sorry!” you said in guilt and removed your hands quickly. You frowned as he took both of your palms in his and placed them on both sides of his neck. “It’s okay, I don’t want you to be cold,” you said, feeling how your heart melted at his gesture.

“Once you’re a little bit more warm I might treat you to some hot chocolate, so choose wisely.” Just as he expected, you stayed in his arms, warming up against his warm body.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ “i missed you” hugs *ೃ༄

tbh i don’t see him as much of a hug guy

BUT ☝️

just IMAGINE him running all excited after not seeing him for a while

all smiley and happy

once you’re in his arms he doesn’t let go because he misses you so much </33

Anticipation flooded your whole body as you waited in one of the dressing rooms in the venue. It was their last concert before comeback promotions and coming back to Korea, after weeks spent in the States. Just yesterday you called him and spent a solid two hours telling each other how you missed one another. What he didn’t know was that as you were talking you were about to board your plane to surprise him.

The last stage of an encore was finished and all the staff members who kept your company ran to collect their mics and in-ear monitors. Your heart started to beat faster as the familiar voices were louder and clearer. The door suddenly opened and you saw Jake, who was just as surprised as you were. His expression changed, giving you a very telling look, and backed off.

“Sunoo, somebody is waiting for you!” You heard him say and within seconds your boyfriend peeked into the dressing room curiously.

His eyes widened as his lips parted in shock, which soon was replaced by his endearing smile. Without a second thought he slowly wrapped his arms around your form, still in a big shock to see you there.

“Y/nie,” he finally said. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I just couldn’t wait another day without seeing you,” you whispered with closed eyes in bliss of the smell of his perfume and his warm touch. How you missed the feeling of having him so close. “Are you surprised? You didn’t suspect anything?”

“Not at all!” he exclaimed, excitement painting on his face. “When did you arrive?”

“Like, three hours ago.” You pulled away slightly to take a look at your watch. He pulled you back into his hug and placed his head on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” Sunoo confessed, not breaking the hug.

“I know, but I missed you more.”

Yang Jungwon |  양정원

➶ “i’m proud of you” hugs *ೃ༄

yes, jungwon and the “i’m proud of you” agenda continues 😀

in my defense,, he’s an aquarius and as an aquarian myself

i know the pattern, trust me

he might be pretty tough to others but to his close ones? Softie with capital SSS

he’s proud of your every accomplishment even those trivial ones like ordering a takeout 💀

(plus it’s another opportunity to hug you)

Jungwon peeked into your study room, for the nth time this evening, hoping to see you finally away from your computer. But once again he was disappointed with the view of you staring at the screen, writing the report maniacally.

“Love?” he started but you held your palm straight in front of him, eyes not leaving the document.

“Please, don’t. I’m almost done but I need to focus fully.” You said almost incoherently, trying to maintain calm.

He slowly nodded, leaving the room quietly.

To say that he was worried is not enough. He was just as stressed and nervous as you were. Seeing you in distress was probably the worst, but he believed in you. He knew you were going to accomplish everything you do, no matter how little time you have. Though he wished there was a way he could help you.

He walked his way to the kitchen and prepared your favourite tea along with some fruits for you to eat once you’re finished. Which you did, not long after you told him to leave.

His face brightened up at the view of you stretching your arms up cutely in the middle of the living room.

“All finished?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded and munched on the piece of the fruit he held in front of you. “Thank you, Won, and I’m sorry if I was rude. That report really drained me and I didn’t want to lash out at you.”

“You didn’t,” he said calmly and cupped your cheeks. You leaned into his embrace, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. “I’m so proud of you, Y/nie.” He swung your bodies to the sides, as his hand patted your head lightly. Your phone rang with a notification and you quickly checked out to see your boss’s compliment.

“I knew I could trust you with this, as always quick and effective.” You read the message out loud and smiled confidently.

“That’s my baby.”

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ height difference hugs *ೃ༄

as much as he would want to be viewed as a tsundere bf

he’s not babe, we all know that

he finds you the cutest, no matter if you’re younger, older

what gets him the most? height difference obviously 🙄

seeing that just makes him want to pat your head and stuff

so to keep his image he just pulls you in a hug

“Riki!” Your voice reached his ears. He slowly turned around on your sofa, to face your annoyed state.

“Yes, my lovely Y/nie?” He asked sweetly, pretending to be oblivious. Just as he expected, you pointed to one of the shelves in your kitchen, well, more precisely to the highest shelf. Seeing that he slowly got up and made his way towards your fuming with anger expression, that he found nothing but cute.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop putting those on the top shelf…” you started but he interrupted you.

“Woah, woah!” His eyebrow raised and he held his palms in front of you. “Do you know that threats are punishable?” He asked seriously, proceeding to put his hand on his chest.

Rolling your eyes you grounded out: “Just hand me that damn flour.”

He smirked and casually reached for the product you needed and put it on a kitchen counter. “My dear, what would you have done without me?”

“I would just get a chair.”

“Yeah, just so your clumsy ass could trip and you would whine to me that you’re hurting.” He said and bopped your nose. Before you could oppose, he continued: “And we don’t want that, do we?” he said as he pulled you towards his body. He naturally placed his head on top of yours and you couldn’t help but melt in his embrace. Your rage soon turned into bliss and calmness of his heartbeat and the occasional pecks he left on the top of your head.

“I just want to be helpful sometimes.” He said quietly.

“You could just also help me cook, and not place everything so high.” You chuckled at his silly argumentation.

“That would be no fun.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation , @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

[half-oz-eddie]

parental death mention

Billy received a devastating phone call from an executor, asking if they could meet at an office in town regarding his mother. 

Billy didn’t need to know much else, except the fact that it was about his mother and it was urgent. 

When he got to the office, he was given an urn, an apology, a vague explanation, and a check.

His mother died, and there was no chance of him ever seeing her again.

Billy stood in front of his car, emotionless and confused, staring down at the urn as memories of being in her arms flashed through his mind. 

And the only way he can hold her close is by clutching her urn to his chest. But the warmth was gone and he could never hope to feel it again.

He stared down at it, longingly, as if he was staring into her eyes. The sand casted urn is blonde just like her hair, iridescent and sparkling in a way he remembered the shore of the beach on their last happy day together. 

He walked, ever so slowly back to Cherry Lane, his heart heavy from the terrible news and the uncertainty of what would happen once he arrived home with the urn.

Would Neil take it away? Would he smash it right in front of him? He dreaded what the near future held.

“So…” He awkwardly began. “Nice to uh…see you again. Not what I ever imagined but…I guess death is inevitable, and we can’t predict when it will come and get us.” Billy sighed. “I hate that you’re gone. We’re not even on the same planet anymore. At least when you were alive, the fact that we lived on the same earth gave me hope. Now…now that’s just gone. What’m I supposed to do?”

He could hear a car approaching behind and glared over when it slowed down beside him.

“You okay?” 

Harrington? Why would he fucking ask that? He doesn’t care.

“I never see you on foot. Did your car break down somewhere—“

“No. I’m good. I don’t need anything.”

“What’re you carrying?” Steve asked, slowly driving beside him.

“Why’re you in my business, Harrington? We’re not even friends.”

“I’m asking because…I didn’t wanna assume but—i-it looks similar to my nana’s urn.”

Billy stopped walking, his head hanging down. “It’s my mom.” He replied despondently.

“Your mom? Jesus, I’m so sorry, man. D’you wanna talk or—“

“I told you, I’m fine.” Billy chuckled it off. “I haven’t seen her since I was 9. I don’t even care that much that she’s gone.”

Steve didn’t buy that for a second. He noticed the way Billy hung his head down and clutched the urn so close to his body like a scared child holding a teddy bear.

“Billy, your house is 20 minutes from here by foot, and mine is on the way. Why don’t you just let me drive you—“

“I’m not in a rush to go home, Harrington. Just leave me alone.” He continued walking, speeding up slightly.

“Fine.” Steve sped off.

Billy wasn’t sure why, but he felt a tinge of guilt for pushing Steve away, until he realized Steve was parking up ahead and getting out of his car. 

He froze when Steve began to run toward him. 

“If you’re gonna walk, I’ll just walk with you.”

“Why?”

“Because your mom died, man. And the fact that you didn’t try to punch me earlier says a lot.”

“I just didn’t wanna drop my mom’s urn, or I would’ve punched you.”

Steve smirked, nodding in understanding. “Fair enough. I guess I’m being annoying.”

“A little.” Billy mumbled.

“Only a little?”

“Do you want me to say that you’re getting on my fucking nerves instead?”

“Nah. A little annoying is fine.”

They continued to walk together in silence, when Billy stopped. 

“I don’t wanna go home.” 

“How come? Don’t you wanna safely store your mom’s—“

“It’s not safe there. Even in death, mom’s not safe under Neil’s roof. He’ll probably break it in front of me then make me sweep up her ashes.” His lip began to tremble at the thought.

“Hey, man, we’re not gonna let that happen, okay? My car’s right here.” He pointed. “We can go to my house. My parents never come upstairs and there’s a nice place we can set her urn. Nobody’ll mess with it and you can come see her whenever you want.”

“Why are you doing this for me?” Billy questioned.

“I already told you. Your mom died. I’m not gonna kick a man while he’s down. That’s your thing.”

Billy chuckled, causing Steve to smile. 

“So whaddya say? Wanna come back to casa Harrington and give your mom a safe place?”

Billy nodded. “Under one condition.”

“Hm?”

“Never call your house ‘casa Harrington’ again.”

Steve laughed. “Alright, alright. Deal.”

— 

Steve drove Billy to his house and showed him to a marble console table at the end of the hallway.

There wasn’t anything on it, except for an old copy of Gone With The Wind.

“This was her favorite book.” Billy mentioned, setting the urn down beside the book.

He stood back and reached into his pocket for a small seashell to place next to her urn. 

“Hm…” Steve hummed pensively.

“What?”

“No, it’s just…I dunno, her urn’s like…lopsided. I don’t want it to fall over.

Billy stood back, noticing the way her urn didn’t rest flat on the surface like it was supposed to.

“Maybe there’s something under it.” Steve suggested.

Billy lifted the urn. There was nothing on the table, so he felt the bottom of the urn, noticing a strange bump beneath the felt. 

He carefully peeled away at the felt, startled when a square fell to the floor by his feet.

He set his mother’s urn down and focused his attention on the square. 

“Is that a…floppy disk?” Steve asked as Billy picked the black square up off the floor.

“Yeah. D’you have a computer?”

“I do but uh—are you sure we should like…actually open that?”

Billy narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell not? It could be a special message from my mom.”

“Because! What if it, I dunno, self destructs or something.”

“My mom wasn’t a fucking spy, shit-for-brains. Show me where your computer is.” Billy demanded.

“Fine.”

Steve led Billy to his computer and Billy inserted the floppy disk into the drive. 

The floppy only contained two files. A photo, and an audio file.

Billy opened the photo first, frowning deeply. 

“Cute kid. That you?”

“Yeah, it’s…me and my mom at the beach.”

“Aw, you look so happy. Look at that big bright smile. And your mom, she was…she was super pretty, man. You look just like her.”

“You callin’ me pretty?” He glanced over at Steve.

Steve gulped, his eyes shifting away. “Well I mean you called me pretty before! So what’s it matter?”

Billy answered with a shrug, returning his attention to the computer. 

“You got headphones?”

“Yeah, check the drawer right there.”

Billy pulled the drawer handle and peered inside. He quickly grabbed the headphones, disregarding the condoms in the drawer beside it.

He plugged the headphones in and listened to the audio file.

“Hello, Billy. If you’re listening to this, it means I’ve passed on, which is…so unfortunate, but I learned I have cancer, and the more I struggle, the more I become aware of how little time I have left. It pains me everyday, Billy. I wish we had more time together. I’m sure you grew up to become a fine young man.”

There was a pause in the audio. Billy could hear soft sniffles.

“And I want you to continue to grow. But I’ve learned some disturbing news, about your father…have you ever wondered why we had so many nice things, even on your father’s salary? I wasn’t working, and yet I was always able to keep the finest foods on the table, and buy you the most expensive clothing. You were probably too young to think anything of it. Before you were born, your father was an active duty soldier. Now, he’s a resident spy. He has been engaging in espionage for several years and feeding classified data to Russians. You have moved very close to a secret Russian military base. I’m not sure where in Hawkins the military base is located, but this is all the information I’ve gathered over the years. I need you to promise me. Promise me. You will get away from your father before he gets you killed. I love you so much, sweetie. Take care and be safe. And…I am so sorry. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

When the audio message ended, Billy removed the headphones and stared at the screen, wide-eyed.

“Billy? Everything okay?”

He slowly turned to Steve, still in disbelief. “Hey, Harrington. Can I trust you?”

“Y—what?”

“Can I trust you?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. You can trust me.”

“My mom said my dad’s a spy. He’s been spying for the Russian military and that’s why we moved here. She thinks he’s gonna get me killed.”

“Holy shit…” Steve quietly whispered. “We need to talk to Hop.”

“What? No!” Billy shouted. “You said I could trust you!”

“Listen!” Steve exclaimed. “Hop’s been taking care of this kid, her name’s El, short for Eleven. She used to live in the Hawkins National Lab. She—she’s got powers and she was used as like a-a radio to spy on the Russian military.”

“Nah.” Billy laughed. “No that’s bullshit—“

“It’s not. I swear. You trust me, right? Then come with me.”

Billy shrugged. “I dunno about this.”

“Look This town’s got a lot of secrets. Really…weird secrets. I think it’s time you find out everything we know.”

“We? We who?”

Steve shrugged. “Sinclair, Henderson, Wheeler…Max.”

“Max?! That little shit knows things?!”

“Yes! And I tried to tell you that night we fought but you didn’t wanna hear me out.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Billy argued.

“I know! I know! Now we…we’ve gotta figure this shit out.” Steve grabbed a walkie talkie. “We’ve got a code red. Everybody meet at the quarry ASAP.”

“Copy that!” Dustin responded.

Steve returned his attention to Billy. “Let’s go. It’s time for you to learn the truth.”

[dear-ao3]

absolutely, completely and in all other ways OUTRAGED that @wearewatcher did not include dr. heinz doofenshmirtz on their list of disney dilfs.

is he technically from disney channel? yeah. does that matter? no. is he better than pongo and maurice and king triton? absolutely.

and i will tell you why.

as we all know, doofenshmirtz had a horrible upbringing:

-his own parents didnt show up for his birth -he had to throw his own surprise party -big black boots boris the bully kicked sand in his face -a kid outshined him at a science fair with a baking soda volcano -his mom wouldnt let him swim in pools -his dad won a dog and said it was the son he never had and named it only son -had to wear dresses to school -he smelled like pork ?? idk this one doesnt get explained -his brother was better at kickball than him -his brother got the teddy bear he got out of a claw machine and it ruined the family dynamic -he couldn't make pretzels -he failed as a magician -his first date was ruined -he lost a girl to a dude with big hands -has no coordination -accidentally ended up in america? -lived with a family of ocelots ??? -he had to be a garden gnome -was always thwarted and outshined by his brother roger

yea you get the idea

but does he pass any of this down to his daughter, vanessa??

no! he does not!

-he actually takes his daughters advice -he is a fantastic single dad and makes a good life for her (and supports her being goth. very important.) -he is civil with his ex wife also (which helps vanessas childhood) -he brings vanessa to work and tries to bring her into the family business -he wants his inators to be fun for her as a learning experience -he always gives her extravagant birthday parties !!! esp her sweet 16!!! -he does not direct his negative feelings towards his daughter ever, its always towards perry -he spends 10 years looking for a discontinued mary mcguffin doll!!! for her!!

and so on

instead of being horribly to his daughter he rather brilliantly uses his arch nemesis (perry the platypus) as a free therapist (rather ingenious in this economy) and channels his childhood trauma into creating his inators in order to take over the tri state area.

so hes definitely dedicated, knows his way around a toolbox and programming (valuable skills in the technology age), broke through the stigma of generational and childhood trauma, and hes just a little bit evil. as a treat. at least in terms of ryans criteria he is a fantastic dad. and that is what we are judging the dilfs on.

so in conclusion. @wearewatcher. why isnt dr. heinz doofenshmirtz on the top 5 disney dilfs list???

[crystalandparrot]

Rottmnt x Reader

School Tour

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All actors are names made by me, any relation or comparison to these characters is purely coincidental.

Warning: Drug use, marijuana but its not underage drug use and it's legal.

Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys bounced between your ears once you stepped up to Empire High School. Most students were leaving for the day, talking amongst themselves and making plans for the weekend.

"Ms. (L/n)!" A man with a blonde effeminate wig that most students would call a "Karen" haircut waved furiously at you from the top of the steps. He bounced down the steps, his hair poofy and bouncing.

You quickly put your headphones away and tucked the phone in your pocket. "Mr.—"

"Dale is fine! I don't like formalities, I had enough of those in high school." Dale, the Principal of Empire High, chuckled goofily. "How about I give you the tour?" Dale asked, gesturing to the large school doors.

You nodded with a grin, following Dale inside. In between showing you the classes, he asked questions regarding your resume. Some questions were about family, achievements, and activities, but then he surprised you by asking about your schooling. "Oh! I was attending a Mystic College in the Hidden City. Don't worry, it has the same schooling as New York--"

"Oh! I wasn't worried about that! We have a couple of Yokai students and faculty that go in between schools." Dale opened the door to the gymnasium, holding it open for you to walk in.

THUD--SNAP

You looked forward, your eyes immediately expanding once you saw a punching bag quickly flying your way. For a split second, your eyes darted to the top of it, and upon seeing a broken chain your heart continued to drop. You couldn't resist the shriek that left your lips and the closing of your eyes.

THUD

Not feeling anything, you stopped screaming and opened one eye. Your eyes were looking at a large three-fingered, green, hand. Below that hand sat a silver watch with a teddy bear hour hand. In the large hand sat the punching bag, almost like he froze it in time. His fingers wrapped around the sides of the bag, almost fitting perfectly in his palm.

"Tyler! What did we say about using mystic abilities?" A deep voice boomed throughout the building.

"Sorry, Mr. Raph!" A pre-pubescent voice called back.

"C'mere and hang this back up." The deep voice commanded, tossing the punching bag forward. A teenage bull Yokai caught it like he was thrown a pillow. He quickly hung it back up on the one hook that was missing a bag.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" That deep voice shook you from your frozen spot. You looked up, into the deep brown eyes of the huge turtle Yokai in front of you. He wore a sleeveless red hoodie that had holes torn into it where the turtle's spikes poked through. On his legs were black shorts with two red stripes on each leg, matching the color of the red sweatband on his forehead.

"Y-yes.." realizing you were whispering, you cleared your throat, "Yes. Sorry, I'm fine."

"I know, my appearance is probably a little scary--"

You couldn't stop your mouth before it ran, he just looked so dejected, "No! I was just surprised at the sudden bag of sand flying towards me at light speed, I swear! Your appearance is quite nice to look at--"

"Ooh!" A crescendo of students began.

The large Yokai turned with a glare, "Do you want laps? 'Cause it sounded to me like you guys were asking to run laps right now." He insinuated. The students gasped and then they all went back to their original training. The teacher chuckled, then turned back to you. It was then that you noticed the adorable snaggle tooth that he had. "Sorry about them. High schoolers, y'know?" He chuckled again.

You chuckled this time and nodded, "I'm (Y/n) (L/n). The new librarian slash computer lab teacher." You held out your hand for a handshake.

"Raphael, but you can call me Raph. The guidance counselor slash wrestling coach slash gym teacher," Raph's hand completely covered your hand as he shook it.

"Thank you. For saving me, I mean. If it weren't for you, I probably would have been flattened." You said once Raph released your hand.

"It was no problem, really!" Raph said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

Behind you, Dale cleared his throat, "I hate to interrupt, but it's nearly five and we still have your classroom to see."

"Oh! I didn't realize it was getting so late." You said, pulling out the purple phone to look at the time. As you did, you saw about twenty missed calls and double that in texts from your number. Surprisingly, they were all instructions from Donnie/Othello, telling you how to treat his phone, one password for unlocking his phone and no others, apps you were allowed to use and detailed explanations on how to use them, and finally, instructions to meet and exchange phones.

"Did you wanna...exchange numbers? We're both gonna be afterschool teachers so it might be useful for the future." The adorably large Yokai asked as his face flushed the color of his sweater.

"I'd love to!" You almost handed him the phone, but then paused. "Wait. I'm sorry, it's a long story, but I accidentally switched my phone with someone else's, so I can't put your number in here." Before the turtle could change moods, you grabbed his phone, "So I'll just give you my number." Raph's face flushed brighter as he felt his tail wag in his shorts. He's never met anyone like you before. Without Raph even knowing it, you had given his phone back and left with Principal Dale.

"Yo! You whipped already, coach?!"

"Tyler! Ten laps!"

A harsh wind smacked you in the face as you stood in the scarcely populated park. It was currently 8:59 p.m. as Othello's phone read. You tucked the phone into your puffy sweater pocket and hugged your body. Donnie's meticulous texts said he'd be at Rucko Park at 9 P.M., so you naturally arrived five--okay ten minutes early. You didn't expect it to be so cold, though. Maybe you should have worn more layers or arrived closer to the allotted time, but...you kind of wanted to make a good first impression.

"Madam." A familiar voice shook you from your thoughts. You seemed to do that a lot lately.

Looking up, you spotted the purple-clad turtle Yokai from earlier. Quickly standing, you couldn't resist the temptation of copying his mannerisms slightly, "Good evening, sir. I understand we've fallen into quite the predicament with our cellular communication devices?" You raised an eyebrow.

'...Is she fucking with me?' Donnie heard that little voice in his brain, but his excitement overruled it. "You understand correctly, good lady! Might we resolve this disastrous plight before any other events can overturn this already cruel night?" Donnie finished with a bow.

"Wow."

Donnie felt sweat run down his brow. Maybe he should have listened, that little voice was usually right anyway--

"That. Was incredible."

Donnie looked up, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"I would continue, but that was better than anything I could have come up with. Did you just make that up?" You asked, stars in your eyes.

Donnie felt himself nod, no words leaving his lips.

"That's awesome." You breathed. "Oh! Your phone, good sir." You held out his phone with a similar bow, adding a bit more flourish as you held out his phone. "I obeyed your instructions to the tee. Well, I only really opened Spotify, but I followed the instructions!" You explained once Donnie took his phone from your hand. You stood fully straight, "You're Othello Von Ryan?"

"Ah! The lady has exquisite taste? Yes, I am Othello, or Donatello, as most know me. You're (username)?" He asked, referring to your Spotify account.

"(Y/n), as most know me." You repeated with a grin.

Donnie chuckled, handing back your phone, "You've been following me for a couple of years, I see," he must have looked through your app.

"Yes! You've helped me so much—you were basically my life line in college—" your face flushed as you realized your words, "YOUR MUSIC! Not you, well, technically you, but—"

"How?" Donnie quieted your thoughts with a single word.

"Your studying playlists kept me sane. If I had to scroll through another classical music studying playlist I would have shrieked." You dragged your hands through your hair, invoking a chuckle from the tall Yokai. "It was such an interesting mesh of music that I was able to get Valedictorian from all my studying! So, thank you." You smiled.

"Valedictorian?! My playlist made you study enough to be the top of your class! Take that Leo!" Donnie laughed chaotically. You accidentally let out a chuckled, startling the turtle into looking back at you.

"I hope you don't think this is overstepping but, I was wondering if you'd listen to a song? I thought you'd like it because of all of your playlists, and if you like it I have a ton more." You asked, scrolling through your Spotify accounts now.

'She's been polite, kind, and stayed out of your phone for the majority of the time you'd encountered each other. The least you could do is listen to a song you won't like.' Donnie reasoned with himself. "Of course! Text it to me, I'll make sure to save your number, oh loyal fan." Donnie joked.

"Really? Sweet! I'll save your number too, oh gracious music supplier." You joked back.

'Her chemistry is electric,' Donnie thought. He felt a buzz and watched as his phone lit up with a text.

"Thanks for meeting with me to switch phones, I wish I could stay longer, but—"

"No, need to explain. You have a date or you have friends arriving—"

You chuckled, startling Donnie from his self conscious rambling, "Oh, yeah. A super hot date with Jupiter Jim while I unpack my new apartment." You connected your headphones back to your phone. "It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can hang out in the future, if you're up to hanging out with a school librarian?"

Donnie's gaping mouth finally closed as he looked into your hopeful eyes, 'Why were they hopeful?' He gave a small smile, "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Great!" Copying his bow from when you first met, you said, "Adieu, Sir." With that, you both left with your old phones and a new acquaintance.

CLAP "Alright! We start shooting in two weeks, people! And we're already on shit detail."

Leo leaned one cheek on his fist as the other scrolled through his texts. Old flings, fans who found his number, other actors, but nothing that he found important.

"What are we gonna do about Tiffany?"

Leo looked up, seeing all his directors and most of his co-stars looking at him, "Huh?"

"Tiffany! Your co-star? The love interest? The whole reason we've been here for five hours?" The director asked.

"Well, what's the main issue? Why are we trying to fix her little issues when the big issue is what's gonna make or break this?" Leo asked, shoving his phone into his pocket.

The others in the room began to get nervous. Most began sweating, and a few turned red in embarrassment.

"What?" Leo asked, now concerned.

"Tiffany is refusing to be your lead unless..." the director sighed, refusing to look at Leo, "unless you wear a human disguise."

Blink. Blink. "Ha!" Leo began laughing a deep chortle, straight from his core. The others in the room began laughing with him, albeit nervously. "Then let her refuse!"

The director stopped laughing, "But, but. She's your lead—"

Leo had suddenly stopped laughing to glare at his director as he spoke, "No. I'm the lead. Tiffany Blanco was supposed to be Renae Whittler, Primetime's love interest." Yanking the script from who knows where, he began reading, "'Renae Whittler initially despises Primetime, thinking him to be the man who ruined her life, but upon realizing they are after a common enemy, she begins to love him for the way he is. Together, they fight crime, discover truths, and explore worlds, and possibly each other.'" Leo read flatly. "'The way he is'. If you make Primetime human, is that making him, ‘the way he is'?"

The humans in the room looked ashamed and guilty, while the Yokai, some in disguises, looked at Leo in awe.

"If she wants to refuse, let her refuse. Because I will be damned if I let some twenty-three year with small tits and big dreams tell me who I am." With that, Leo stood and stormed out of the room.

As Leo paced the halls, one of his main co-stars, Danny Filmore, ran into the hall after he left. Danny was a deer Yokai who played the role of Primetime's 'Guy in the chair', Marcus Tracy. His character reminded him a lot of Donnie. Without a word, Danny sat in one of the chairs lining the crips walls and pulled out a vape. The vape was slim and purple in color, but it shined under the flickering fluorescent lights above. He took a long inhale and then a small inhale of regular air. After holding it, Leo realized Danny wasn't smoking Nicotine.

"Jesus, Danny, not here." Leo whined.

"What—" Danny started, but was then interrupted by a violent cough from his throat. He held up a finger, telling Leo to wait a minute. Again, Marcus Tracy reminded Leo of Donnie, not the actor who played him. "—ever man, you know Anthony doesn't give a shit." Danny finished, his eyes now bloodshot and lidded.

Anthony Silvermeadow was the director. He wasn't a pushover by any means, but he was pretty lax on the rules. As long as you weren't  under the influence while shooting, he didn't care. Most of the time you saw him with a drink in his hand.

"That was pretty ballsy, man." Danny said, tucking his vape away.

Leo sighed, running a hand down the back of his head, "I know. But...it took so much for me to audition as me that it feels wrong to do anything else. I promised my—" Leo paused on the 'b-word', "—family that I wouldn't change for anyone. And I intend to stand by it."

Danny nodded, but stayed silent.

"I guess I should apologize?" Leo asked Danny.

"Nah. You're right. Tony even said so." Danny let the words hang in the air.

"But?" Leo waited.

"You gotta find your own love interest." Danny smirked.

Leo's mind raced through his texts, his old friends, anything he could think of that would give him a hint of where to start. With a click, the once flickering lights stayed on just as an idea passed through Leo's brain. 'Lightbulb.'

Once Donnie got back home, he pushed his hand into a metal panel next to a large, circular, sealed door. It lit up purple, reading his palm. The panel flashed green, accepting the readout and unlocked the metal doors. The first row of doors twisted clockwise then opened. The second set rotated counterclockwise then opened to reveal the large lab within. Donnie added them for extra security and totally not because they were in a Jupiter Jim movie and he thought it looked cool.

"Donnie!" Shelldon, Donnie's drone and adopted child (not literally speaking...I think?) flew out of the purple themed lab and flew around his father.

"Anything new?" Donnie asked as he walked over to his purple chair. With a click and a hiss, the shoulder pads on Donnie's battle shell released the front of his plastron where it was connected.

"A new number texted you. You have repeating interactions. Would you like me to —" Eight different guns popped out of Shelldon's back compartment, "remove the pest?"

"No!" Donnie cleared his throat, then sat in his chair regally, "No. That won't be necessary. Rename contact (L/n) and check new message." Donnie opened his computer and flipped through his files.

"Contact: (L/n). Sent: "Don't Stop Movin' by S Club. The vibe is 80's dance." I like this chick!" Shelldon added, once his automated voice cut out.

"The vibe?" Donnie asked out loud.

"I think she's referring to your playlists and how the vibe is always different, dude." Shelldon explained.

"Huh. 80's dance music...go ahead and play it, Shelldon." Donnie waved his hand in Shelldon's direction.

It was quiet before a synthetic voice started with the hook. It was followed by a heavy thumping base, then a pleasant male vocalist began to sing the bridge. The words were a nice balance of fast then slow, with vibrato when appropriate. A sudden appearance of a female singer gave Donnie goosebumps. Their voices had a nice harmonization. Her voice grew more and more powerful as the instruments grew. Donnie couldn't help but tap his feet and bob his head. As the lead sang the chorus that was accompanied by more background singers of equal talent, Donnie felt a grin spread onto his lips. The need to boogey was insatiable. The chorus repeated in the background when the male vocalist came back to the mic. The speed in which the song progressed seemed to get quicker, like the hook, chorus, and bridge were all shortened.

By the time the bridge came on again, Donnie couldn't resist. He stood up, performing his dancing moves he’s secretly perfected over the years unbeknownst to his brother and father who all shared the same house.

Until now, that is.

Splinter, also known as Hamato Yoshi, and also known as Donnie and Mikey’s father, walked to Donnie’s lab to explore the commotion. With a cane and small shuffle, Splinter peeked around the door, spying Donnie dancing like he was in an 80’s music video.

“Ah, young love.” Splinter nodded, then put a hand to his chin in thought, “Maybe I will marry one of them off.”

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ ℙ𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕦𝕞 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bleachtheidiot

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aether finally entered the living room again with tray in his hands, while Lumine was dusting her clothes off after rumbling throguh wooden box.

You were invited but twins to join their place simply to spend some time! But after some time of charting, it turned to a session of recalling old memories... Leading to siblings remembering they have album from their childhood somewhere hidden! And you as their great childhood friend... just HAD to be somewhere on them too!

Blonde boy put the tray down on table before placing 2 cups of tea on table and handing you third one. Of course you gladly took it from his hands with gentle smile, he quickly returned it and placed final thing in the middle of table... cookie plate~

The girl also approached you soon enough, now almost all clean from the dust and album in hand! She sat between you and her brother and places the item on her lap, grabbing cookie before she opened it, earning small glare from her brother.

"Watch out to not dirty the photos."

"Don't worry! They're safe under my hands~ Now let's see what we have here..."

She finally flipped the introduction page with description of album to the interesting part which were the photos! Immidietly you could see various pictures of two siblings as babies, playing around~

Even so far into the past, it was obvious on pictures Lumine was the troublemaker, while Aether stayed on the sides!

"I remember this one~"

He pointed at specific picture on which he was showing off a teddy bear to someone behind camera, while Lumine was trying to sneakily and unsuccessfully steal it from his grasp...

"In my defense, I just wanted to steal it for teasing purposes!"

"Relax! I didn't even tell you anything yet..."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the discovery about their childhood. Only speaking when you calmed yourself down a bit.

"You haven't changed one single bit, huh~?"

"Same xoudl be said about you, y'know? Oh right! I think the photo with you is..."

She trailed off speeding through various pages, her eyes going all around them to find what she's looking for. Finally her brother leaned in and way more calmly went through pages, taking his time... which seemed to pay off, because it was him who found it!

"Here~ Us three in ab sandbox!"

His hand moved slightly up to point at photo with three kids in sandbox... which were you! Aether was collecting sand... you were building actually impressive sandcastle for a toddler! And Lumine... she was already digging around your construction to prepare it for water defense~

"See? Y/N even then had crazy imagination!"

"Heh~ I'm taking it as compliment, mind you~"

"I'm pretty sure she meant it as one, so don't worry~"

None of you may've realized it by now... but that's precisely how you spent whole ahh day on looking through not one... but at least 10 albums and going through every. single. photo!!

Maybe you spent way too much time on old photos but... at least you had fun reminding your past together and teasing each other about it~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ 2024 ᴀᴅᴠ���ɴᴛ ᴄᴀʟᴇɴᴅᴀʀ

[blckbrrybasket]

Sup! Marshmellow again ^^

If your down for another request for the 141. could you do one where reader is their civilian wife who often sings to herself and to them when they come home. Thinking they are asleep when she does it or that she's alone.

The song often being Hidden in the Sand by Tally Hall

And one day when they are at the base they see a bear in their bag as they are unpacking. Pressing it's paw they can hear a recording of the song sang by their wife. A note saying "for those nightmares" or something similar ^^.

Thanks! ❤️

Hi marshmellow!! I loved this idea omg 🩷

You had a habit of singing to yourself. It had formed in your childhood when you’d soothingly sing yourself to sleep, too tired to keep going as the words muddled into sleepy mumbles. Sometimes you still fell into the habit when he was gone. When the bed was too cold and too large for one person.

Other times you sung when you cleaned the house, flitting around like a butterfly as you got rid of the dust. Or on sunny mornings where you scrambled your eggs and sliced your fruit. Times like that you usually sung “Hidden in the sand”. No matter the lyrics it sounded soft enough for you to coo the words out.

That was his favorite way of finding you when he came home; happily singing away. You knew how much it meant to him and when he was set to be deployed again you snuck a teddy bear into his bag.

Soap had gotten back to his barracks before he tore through his bag. You’d told him that you’d left a surprise for him under his clothes. He took it completely seriously and rummaged through his belongings, tossing pieces of his uniform to the side. The mess on the ground looked like a tornado had swirled through before he finally found what he’d been looking for.

Truthfully Soap had hoped you had snuck him snacks, but when he pulled away his last shirt to reveal the lone teddy bear with the tag “For when you miss me”, his heart melted. “Hello wee thing.” He murmured and grinned as his large hands cupped it. Soap lifted the plushie up and turned it over before pressing on the hand accidentally. “We were playing in the sand…and you found a little band…”

Soap’s eyes widened as he listened to the tune. A lovestruck smile pulled at his lips and if he listened to it fifty more times he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Gaz had, had a rough day. He’d forgotten to get back to Price about his piece of the last mission report, a fight had broken out that he’d had to break up resulting in a punch to the jaw, AND the newer recruits were being way too loud in the mess hall.

Maybe it was an exaggeration but by that point everything seemed to wear him down. He just wanted you. God he missed you. You’d stopped by base a few days ago, but now you’d gone back hone with no trace that you had been there; besides the faint smell of you on his pillow and the teddy bear you’d placed on his desk. He remembered how you’d told him how it was for “dark nights”.

Gaz snatched it off quickly and jumped onto his bed with a groan. He sighed heavily and curled into himself, clutching the teddy bear. A small click responded before a melody of your humming sounded in the quiet room. “You told me you fell in love with it hadn't gone as I'd planned.”

His eyes opened before they drooped, small tears of happiness collecting in his eyes. “I love you.” He whispered into the air before burying his face in the fur of it.

Price regretfully had shipped off months ago. He wasn’t a religious man but he found himself halfheartedly praying to any god there was to get him back home soon. And it worked…partially. He was able to come back to base, but not on leave yet.

First plan of action should have been going to his room but he settled for going to his office. Price had work to do no matter how much the jet lag was dragging him down. He tossed his bag to the ground before spotting a teddy on his desk. Price raised an eyebrow and circled the wooden furniture to see your hand writing on a note. “For the best Captain, go get em!”

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was about the other soldiers or if it was about wrangling his boys up, but he would heed your words either way. He could never ignore your advice. Price sat in his chair and kept the teddy looking back at him. “Gonna help me out?” He reached forward to study it (and prod at it) before your melodic voice sung out.

For a moment his breath stopped until a wide smile overtook his features. “Yeah I think ya are.”

It was no secret that Ghost struggled with nightmares. Thankfully they were more manageable when he was home with you, but when he was away it was hard. Ghost didn’t tell you this of course, well, not for awhile.

When he did admit it, it was after a few drinks. He’d immediately tried to comfort you at the though but you just cupped his face and told him how strong he was. Ghost knew you were the person he was gonna marry. If he hadn’t known it then he would’ve known it when a teddy bear was tucked away in his duffle bag.

Ghost had seen the furry thing in a shop with you. He hadn’t even realized you’d bought it. The hulking man sat on the floor and cradled the teddy like it would break. “For the pesky nightmares” was embroidered on the chest of it. He pressed his two thumbs over where it’s heart would be, the fluff slowly expanding back out as a familiar tune met his ears.

“You told me to buy a pony, but all I wanted was you.” Ghost sat back, placing it down to stare back at him while he gruffly, and barely audibly, hummed in time with you.

[dozing-marshmallow]

OKAY OKAY, hello again!! loved the nibling reader you wrote and just had to write it again!!! (if you couldn't tell im a sucker for platonic family hcs <3)

this time, this request is quite angsty?? ig nibling!reader getting their feelings hurt (either by duncan, heather, or whoever you decide to choose!) you can decide if they either run to chris to cry to, or if they run away to a more.. deserted(??) area of the island. (bonus points if after reader feels better, leshawna comforts them <:]) thank yeww!!

HIYAAA!! Lovely seeing you again with another appreciated request, and to hear that you are happy with how I interpret a Chris nibling reader! It means a lot ! <3 

As always, have an enjoyable reading experience! 😊

ANGSTY! CHRIS MCLEAN’S NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS

Heather was on the chopping block.

She needed to do something urgently. The day wasn’t getting any earlier. Everyone was itching to cast her name out of the competition.

Immunity wasn’t in her favour this time.

She needs to find a reason asap to not be kicked out tonight. That there was actually someone around that was a much bigger threat to everyon-

...Everyone?

...

Jackpot.

“You know that...toy Chris’ nibling has? I need you to get it for me.” Heather beseeched bluntly to Lindsay, hours before the elimination ceremony, in the whistling privacy of the forest.

“Um, sure?” The blonde’s voice high pitched from stupidity agreed,“But why can’t you go ask yourself? (Y/N) doesn’t bite! Not people!”

“Because Lindsay...I...gotta make sure I’m presentable! My hands need to be in perfect condition.” It was a strange excuse, but Lindsay was narrow.

“Ohh, right! Gotcha.” If anything, she found relatability in such empty words.

Too easy,“When you get it, come straight back here. You can remember that, can’t you?”

“Ohh, totally! In geography, I-“

“Go get the teddy.” Heather interrupts dismissively.

“Okay...” she watches moody Lindsay’s height get smaller and smaller as she disappears more and more to carry out one last request.

You were sitting on the sand with your legs spread out when you saw the pretty blonde girl approach you,“Hi Lindsay!”

“Hii (Y/N)! Is that Mrs Maple?” She pointed at the stuffed bear, dressed in a shirt of the Canada flag.

You nod,“She’s having a suntan!”

“Oooo, she’s a lot like me! We both love being trendy!” Ask to get the teddy, ask to get the teddy,“Could I hold her? I...wanna see if we’re really on the same wavelength!” She zealously asks.

You hesitate. You never really let that happen.

You hold Mrs Maple by her underarms and stare far into her black eyes, before you nod and hand her over.

“Thanks! Aww... It’s such a cute bear!...Oh...wait...” She remembers her objection,  and gawks back at you,“I think I hear her talking! She said she wants me to uh, get some syrup for her! Gotta go!”

Before you could protest, she races away. 

That’s weird... Mrs Maple is shy when she meets new people...

Oh! It must be a coverup for a game of tag.

Thus, you got to your feet and ran the same way she did, following her footprints in the sand, smiling. Challenge accepted!

“Hey...! Heather!” She wheezes, holding the teddy to her,“I got it!”

“Good.” She hears a distant “Wait up!” which melts a glare on her face to Lindsay,“You let them follow you?”

“Ohh... I didn’t know they would. But they sound like they’re having fun!” Lindsay found much virtue in it.

“Yeah... A lot of fun.” The wicked glimmer of Heather’s smile shifts to the blades of a pair of scissors she sharpened out, offering them to Lindsay,“Cut the head off.”

...

Lindsay is mortified.

“Wh-What?!” She stutters, clearly having the full ugly picture confidential to her up until now,“I don’t understand, I-I thought you wanted it to see it!”

“Yeah, and to mutilate it.” She snaps the scissors together,“Take.”

“I can’t! I won’t!” She yelled, holding Mrs Maple to the other side,“This teddy is (Y/N)’s whole astronomy, and she didn’t do anything to deserve decapitation! Besides, I-I was the one that took it so, it’d make it look like it was my idea!”

“Right on.” Heather snarled, Lindsay’s out of nowhere refusal not being part of the plan- she could threaten her position in the alliance, but eh, not much of a point if... Oh well. She did do the difficult part so there was nothing hard about snatching the teddy right from Lindsay’s hands and rapidly tearing the head off faster than she could blink.

“Heather! What are you doing?!” She screeched.

The sick image of stuffed cotton overflowing from both ends of the teddy to the ground.

Mrs Maple’s head was now a teddy of its own.

“There.” She pushes the two pieces back into Lindsay’s shaking hands,“Now you can give this back. Or should I say, these.” A malicious smile raises on her pale lips.

“Oh my God... You’re gonna be in so much trouble!” 

“No. You’re gonna be in so much trouble.” Heather reiterated victoriously,“Later!”

She sprints away.

“Hey! Come back, this is your doing!” official that Heather wasn’t going to come back, Lindsay bites down on her bottom lip as she desperately tried useless methods of fixing it such as seeing if the head could stay on the neck by itself or licking her finger to try stick the separated body parts together.

Nothing worked.

I...I didn’t know bears bleed white fluff!

“Lindsay...?”

The one voice she wished she didn’t hear then.

She swiftly hides her hands behind her back and faces the small child, whose shoes and hands were dirty from running and falling, twitching on a nervous smile,“(Y/N)! Y-You’re here! That’s so...great!”

“Could I have Mrs Maple back now please? Her social battery must be so dead by now...” you asked, coming towards her wobbly from running so much.

“Oh um, well, see uh...” her falling on her words didn’t help her case. Hey! She can’t do these things under pressure!

Your face drops,“You...lost her?”

“No! She’s...” she sighs, divulging her heavy hands,“Here. I-I can explain-!”

Immediately, your eyes stung deeper than a wasp’s.

She was showing you your worst nightmare.

Someone you trusted.

“What...?” It was rather unsightly. It... This couldn’t be happening...

“I promise I didn’t do it! It was Heather! It was Heather’s idea, I swear! I didn’t know she wanted to do that!” Lindsay broke down to plead her innocence, guilt stronger than her mascara.

Pulse bellowed in your ears,“Heather...did this?”

A sweet baby returning lifeless by the neglect of the babysitter. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,“I...It’s okay...It’s...okay.”

Proving wrong after five seconds of eerie silence, by the destructive wave of your cries. Before Lindsay could try consoling you (try being very needed), you ran away.

How could you do that? Trust Lindsay of all people? You’ve never had a greater ocean of self hatred flood your insides.

Oh man it did not feel nice.

Chris didn’t predict his nibling to run to him bawling, so he was very caught by surprise. It took him time to properly ask what was wrong given that he had to fully acknowledge that you were hurt, tremendously.

You’re so overwhelmed, you can barely speak. Your wails hold you by the throat and your face never more pinched. All Chris could do is hold you and wait for you to calm down enough to vocalise the root of your distress; whoever was responsible for that was done for.

You hiccuped,“M-My ted...ted... H-Hea...Heath...Heath...”

“Yeah, I can’t understand you,“ he nods at Chef to get a cup of water. Once obtained, he gently urged you to take your head off his body so you could drink it.

Already, your breathing was restoring back to normal and your mouth was empty.

“Better? Alright.” He pats a tissue to your face,“Tell Uncle Chris what’s gotten you all choked up.”

The evocation of it was enough to get you bawling again, and you felt that you had already burdened your uncle enough by disrupting his chat with Chef. So you decide to put the first line of context into words,“I gave Mrs Maple to Lindsay and...” then deciding to show him the pieces. He could figure it out, he’s smart.

“Oh sweet child.” he takes them in his hands, wrinkles forming under his dilated eyes in pure perturbation from what he was seeing. No wonder you were so devastated! He’ll admit, he kinda expected something like this, but not by the intention of other people,“Lindsay did this?”

“I... I don’t know...” your head is light,“She kept saying it’s Heather’s fault, but... I’m still upset I gave it to her in the first place...”

“We’ll check the camera footage, but either way, somebody isn’t going to go through just elimination tonight.” He’ll make sure of that. He takes his sight off you to place the parts of your beloved teddy down on the table, being very gravely mistaken for something else.

“Don’t throw her away!” You shriek, pulling onto his shirt of dark turquoise to prevent him from such,“Please, I’ve had her for a long time! Don’t make me get rid of her!”

He’s once again dismayed, but his tone grew resistance this time,“We won’t be doing that. It’s just the head that came off, soo we’ll sew it back on and maybe clean her. She’ll be as good as new.”

You wipe your nose,“Really?” Thank God.

He nods, stroking the top of your head,“I’ll have Chef work on it right away. As for me, I have other business to attend to. It’s all gonna be solved, I promise.”

Your tears were no more,“Thanks, Chris...” you’re serious. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he wasn’t there,“Do you think we could...play board games tonight?”

“Totally!” Best uncle ever,“We’ll do all your favourite games and we can stay up allll night. How’s that sound?” 

See? Chris wasn’t exactly the best at people comforting, but when it came to the very few people he held dear, that’s when he’s serious.

Knowing how teenagers were, especially of Heather’s textbook, he couldn’t expect a lecture to turn her heart.

But he did enforce a warning to them that harassment was off limits on those who weren’t participating.

How?

You don’t want to know.

“Hey sweetie.” Leshawna came and sat next to you during your wait for your uncle to tell you he’s free to begin board game night,“How are ya? Feeling a little bit better?” By this time, Mrs Maple was one piece again. 

You’re way too disturbed to treat her the slightest of play,“Yeah... I just... I never felt so sad in my life. I practically watched someone close to me die. When...I saw that...she was torn in two, so did my heart.”

“Aww.” she curves her hand around you and rests her head on yours,“Sorry you went through that, some people can be so miserable. You ain’t meant to be feeling all this sad, gloomy things we teens do. You just a kid!”

“I’m never giving Mrs Maple to anyone again.” Your decision thrived of bitterness.

“And that’s completely fine. She’s your toy, no one should force you to do anything you don’t wanna with her. It’s alright to be hurt, but you gotta make sure that the way you handle it is the best way to let you move on sooner.”

“Is...Is Heather going home tonight?” you needed to know. It may have been there, but you needed to hear it.

“Oh, totally. Girl dug her own grave and now, she may need to retake her passport photo.” Leshawna chuckles at the thought,“I mean, to go after a kid who did nothing and still be too much of a chicken to own up? Way out of line.”

“Will I always have to meet someone as nasty as her...?” Your puffy eyes set back to the newly placed stitches on Mrs Maple’s neck.

Leshawna sighs, rubbing your shoulder,“Unfortunately in this world we live in, there’s all kinds of sick freaks and Heather is just one of them. But you shouldn’t waste your life worryin’ about them, because there’s also really great people in your life that will always wanna look out for you, and it’s them you really wanna spend time on, ain’t it?”

“Like you?”

She smiled,“Come here, sugar.”

You felt safe enough to let Mrs Maple join in. Leshawna...she’s amazing. And would make a great big sister, if she wasn’t one already.❤️🩹

[quinloki]

Hello! Can we get Smoker, Crocodile, and Corazon with the kinks: smoking kink (like shotgunning and just the act of smoking during sex) corruption kink, and size kink! Thank you very much💝

ROSINANTE \lol/ OMG SOMEONE FINALLY ASKED ABOUT THE OTHER DONQUIXOTE <3 <3 <3

I have no issue writing about Doffy (he is a blorbo), but I was just thinking "I'd love for someone to ask about Rosi, and if I catch up and no one has, I'll ask for asks including him" - and then I got this -^_^-

(Also I've been compiling these, and we're at like 21k words xD )

Hmm.. let's do this by character. Oh I really like all these characters - I need to write some good Smoker and Corazon something at some point, they're just good characters. (Gods there is so much DILF vibe energy in this ask, I just need a second.)

Smoker:

Smoking Kink - FUCK Yes - Considering his devil fruit I think it's safe to say that there's just more Smoker can do when he's got a surplus of smoke to work with. Plus he knows you like the sound of his voice when he has cigars in his mouth. There's just something missing from it otherwise - until he takes the cigars out of his mouth and leans down low, speaking right into your ear in that low voice that seems impossibly smooth and commanding.

Unless you smoke on your own he won't shotgun you. But the scent of the cigars during sex aren't taking anything away from the experience, that's for sure.

Corruption Kink - I guess - I can see Smoker being willing to role-play corrupting you in someway, but I can't see him doing so legitimately. The vibe I get is that you would both be on similar pages when it came to how worldly you were (or weren't), and while there are several kinds of corruptions to choose from, I don't see Smoker being a V-card collector anymore than I can see him being the one teaching you about bdsm, or trying to get you to steal xD

I can see you both learning about kinky things together, but yeah. He's a little cinnamon-roll-y to me <3

Size Kink - Smoker isn't very-- *looks up his height*... short. He isn't very Short. Holy shit this man's 6'10" ?!?! Hells, I thought he was like 5'8"-5'9"... *ahem*. I'mma need a minute.

Haaaa - okay, Smoker is a Sure/Yes for size kink and I think he feels a little bad about it. People can't control their height, but he does enjoy being the bigger one in the relationship. Possibly because at his height it's hard for him to not be the bigger one, but if he met someone at his height or taller, he wouldn't just dismiss the idea of a relationship with them either. I mean, it would be nice to trade off who gets to be the big spoon.

That said, he does like being able to basically engulf you. From easily being over top you as you pant and squirm under him all the way to being able to cuddle you like you were little more than an over-sized teddy bear. (he's also got a weakness for tilting your chin up so he can kiss you, cause you always look flustered even if it's just for a split second).

Sir Crocodile:

Smoking Kink - FUCK Yes - Crocodile's cigars smell good. It's a scent that slips along your skin and soothes your nerves. It's a little citrus, warm spices, and almost a kind of hot sand smell. It's lazes in the room and no matter how much he smokes it's never overwhelming - if anything it's relaxing. (I'm not saying he's laced his cigars specifically to calm you, but I'm not not saying that either).

This man will shotgun you - after he's already got you used to his cigars, and probably has you enjoying one every now and then. He certainly smokes during sex, well, depending on the kind of sex. He's not risking burning you or setting something on fire, but if he's leaned back and letting you do the work, the air's certainly heavy with smoke.

Corruption Kink - Yes - He's not a good guy, and if you understand that from the beginning then you'll certainly get some level of respect for it. But he's more than happy to pull you into his world - whether you want to be a part of actively or not doesn't really matter to him. You don't have to become a functional part of whatever business venture is going on, but he's not going to keep things from you either. You'll sink into the sandy depths with him, but he'll keep you from drowning, so don't panic.

He is, to me, the one with the most experience in the relationship, so he'll guide you through any kink you didn't already have, while happily indulging almost any other kink you do have.

Size Kink - Sure - Crocodile is very middle ground for this. He does enjoy being larger than his partner, but that just might be because when you're as tall as he is, statistically people are going to be smaller than you. He's not against an equal or larger partner, size hardly matters in any capacity, but even less so in terms of power dynamics. He'll be in charge no matter who's bigger than who.

Plus, if he wants you to have to stretch a struggle to take him, there's several ways to make that happen regardless of whether you're bigger than him or not.

Rosinante -

Smoking Kink - No - Rosinante doesn't even like that he smokes - if for no other reason than the habit costs him a lot in replacement coats and clothes. But he's already half a nervous wreck about having a slip up in the midst of sex, he's not bringing in extra risks. The smell of those cigarettes do cling to him, and it's not unpleasant at least, so if you like the scent of him smoking you're at least not missing out on that.

Corruption Kink - Oh god you have no idea - Something about nurture vs nature, but he is a Donquixote. He wants to own you, pull you into every kink he loves and make you irrevocably his. The biggest difference between him and his brother, is that he does want your permission to do these things to you. In every aspect that he can be your first he wants to be it - no matter what it is, no matter what you've already done, he's not going to turn you away if you've already been with someone, but he'll struggle to hold himself back if you haven't.

He wants to mark you and mess you up, behind closed doors, in sessions, without shattering who you are. It's a fine line, but he's been tight-rope walking his whole life, so he's good at it.

Size Kink - FUCK Yes - He wants to be the little spoon so bad. Coming at an impressive 9'7.5" though, he's uh... he's maybe not going to get that chance unless he can come across someone who has a devil fruit power that can change his size. Or hey, if you're tall enough (OP-sona go, go!) then you can certainly fill that desire for him.

All that said, he's not going to cast you aside if you're shorter/smaller than he is. The kink only rates that high because he's resigned himself to it never being fulfilled quite the way he'd like, and he'd probably cry if it happened.

Kinky One Piece Head Canon

[drtyelvisfantasy]

Coney Island Baby🛼🍦 ౨ৎ

Parings: Elvis Presley x reader

*50s Elvis

Summary: You and Elvis spend a romantic night at Coney Island. With thrilling rides, carnival games, and beautiful beach sunset. With your love blossoming under the Coney Island lights

Song for fic: Coney Island Baby- The Excellents

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the boardwalk, you and Elvis strolled hand in hand, your laughter intertwined with the sounds of crashing waves and bustling crowds. The air was filled with a contagious energy, the scent of cotton candy and salty sea breeze, as the two of you made your way through the vibrant Coney Island.

"Y'know, darlin', I've always wanted to take someone special to Coney Island," Elvis grinned, his charming blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I can't think of anyone more special than you."

Heat rushed up to your checks as you blushed, feeling your heart flutter at the sincere sweetness in Elvis's voice. "I'm so lucky to be here with you, Elvis. It's like a dream come true."

Elvis chuckled, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Well, let's make this dream unforgettable, sugar."

You and Elvis approached a colorful booth, adorned with various stuffed animals and prizes that seemed almost impossible to win. You had your eye on a particular stuffed bear, the bear was huge and was pink with white hearts. You begged Elvis to win it for you, you even threatened him with tears just to get the stuffed bear. Elvis confidently stepped up, ready to take on the challenge. He picked up a few rings and aimed them at the bottles, his concentration evident on his face.

With each successful toss, you clapped and cheered, your eyes shining with pride for your talented boyfriend. Elvis's determination paid off as he won a large pink and white teddy bear, which he immediately presented it two you with a playful wink.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Elvis chuckled, holding out the bear. "Now you'll always have something to remind you of this magical night."

You hugged the teddy bear tightly, grateful for the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Elvis. I'll cherish it forever."

With prizes in hand, the two of you meandered through the park, enjoying thrilling rides and indulging in delicious carnival snacks. You couldn't help but giggle as Elvis challenged you to a friendly water gun game, your laughters echoing through the air as the two playfully sprayed each other.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Elvis led you towards the sandy beach. The two found a cozy spot and settled down, your toes buried in the soft sand. Elvis wrapped his arm around the your shoulders, pulling you close as the both of you gazed out at the breathtaking view.

"Even with all the fame and fortune, moments like these with you are what truly matters," Elvis murmured, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Just being able to share these simple, beautiful moments—it's what makes life worth living."

You snuggled closer, resting your head on Elvis's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I feel the same way, Elvis. It's the genuine connection we have that makes everything else fade away."

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipped lower, casting a radiant glow that painted the world in warm hues. It was in these quiet moments that your love truly flourished, an unspoken understanding and affection binding the two of you together.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, Elvis pressed a tender kiss against your forehead. "I love you, darlin'. Thank you for being a part of my life."

Your heart swelled with love, your voice filled with emotion. "I love you too, Elvis. Thank you for showing me a love I never thought possible."

With the backdrop of Coney Island's twinkling lights and the rhythmic sound of the waves, the both of you continued to revel in each other's presence, cherishing the memories you both had created on this enchanting date.

Together, you both knew that no matter what the future held, your love would always be as timeless as the memories you shared under the Coney Island lights.