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velvetures · 2 years ago

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Honorifics

A/N: Yeah... I don't know about this. I'll probably take it down since I'm unsure if it's got enough of a consistent vibe. Let me know if it's actually something you enjoy since I don't write angst or hurt/comfort often. I ALWAYS WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS THO. That's a damn promise. Summary: You've given Ghost a title he hates, and takes it out on you. The situation goes too far, and you're both left trying to figure it out. Reader is nicknamed "Brass" since she's a long-distance shooter/sniper. T/W: angst, cursing, Ghost being an emotionally unstable human, yelling, the reader having a breakdown, smidge of not eating, smidge of not drinking anything, comfort, feelings, female reader, not proofread.

When you joined the task force, things didn’t exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would. Training sessions usually ended up with you either getting your ass beat or nearly surviving a full-on embarrassment by the skin of your teeth just to be told that you still weren’t in good enough shape to keep up with them in the field. Surely being a woman didn’t excuse you from being in shape for the kind of work Laswell and Price had brought you in for, but damn if it wasn’t difficult to try and have a one-on-one fight with someone like Soap or Ghost without the benefit you would typically have in a real-world battle situation. The reality that all of the men in the squad were literally the best of the best aside, there could be just barely enough room for you to compete on the same level when it came to sheer physical strength. While that wasn’t your specialty anyway, the Captain made it clear you needed to prove you could handle your own against serious physical fights without assistance. After nearly five weeks of having one of your squad mates slam you on your ass one too many times in the training hall, you finally were able to prove to Price that you could go out in the field and he didn’t have to extend any extra worries for your ability to survive.

Logistically as a sniper, it meant you frequently held a much more distant role in missions. By watching from a scope you could ensure that infiltrations, covert ops, and other hush-hush kinds of operations that typically the 141 wouldn’t have the luxury of. Being the skilled marksman you were, it made sense to take advantage of your talents and also extend you a job that progressed past what you’d experienced in your “standard” military career and multiple tours overseas. However, that meant communications were essentially the backbone of your usefulness aside from your rifle. Next to nothing else, your daily and mission-based work almost exclusively went through Lieutenant Ghost. Which… often proved to be the largest obstacle that you faced aside from making sure that your scope didn’t get bumped off sight the -often- rough flights and drives to insertion points.

The Lieutenant was particularly mean… he certainly didn’t give a single thought to if anyone thought that he was a little too harsh of a personality to swallow. That went for everything you came to learn about Ghost. From his lack of willingness to speak unless required of him, to his unique ability of appearing and disappearing from anywhere without the slightest sound or hint of where he’d come from or gone to. Trained as a distance marksman, even you were impressed that such a massive man could move around like smoke on water. That and his physical appearance; good god above. Surely a man like Ghost had never graced the face of the Earth before, else he’d have been just as mythical in his legendary life and would’ve been known by thousands of people. He stood towering over just about everyone, in whatever room he was in, and compared to your own height it was downright laughable the difference between the two of you as operators.

The one thing that made the biggest impression on you after meeting the Lieutenant was his voice and how he spoke. That thick accent always sounded rough and a little gritty. His deep timbre gave such a commanding authority that if given the choice between getting yelled at by Captain Price or Ghost… there was no choice you’d sit for hours listening to Price threaten you over Ghost. He just sounded so scary and attractive all at the same time. Unsurprisingly, it developed into a subconscious dynamic where you saw Ghost as such a superior officer -and human- that no matter how much you liked to daydream about Ghost in less-than-professional situations… You gave him the utmost respect at all times. Easiest of all to recognize was that from day one, you had never addressed Ghost to his face as anything other than ‘sir’. Not even his rank gave enough nuance to his character and presence, so for you, Ghost was inextricably attached to the name.

Ghost however… didn’t like it.

Such a simple address actually made Ghost grit his teeth beneath the shield of his mask. When he heard you call him that, he automatically related it to how he had called General Shepherd ‘sir’ as a subtle sign of mockery and defiance. Thinking about that made him more than necessarily angry and confused, but he couldn’t really accuse you of having ever been given much of a reason to detest him. Therefore, he had to come to the conclusion that you were doing it out of some kind of respect that a drill sergeant or boot camp instructor had bashed into your brain so hard that it stuck permanently. Not surprising since you were much different from the rest of the task force. Yet he had to revise that after the first six months of you being with them permanently. You had gotten settled in. Enough so that you called the Captain, ‘Cap’… Soap, ‘Johnny’… and Garrick, ‘Gaz’ like everyone else did. Exceptionalities only appeared when it came time for you to be around him or have any sort of interaction that wasn’t the occasional silent nod of acknowledgment when walking past each other in the hallways.

He honestly tried to ignore it and you altogether for that matter in an attempt to keep his bitter anger at a minimum. Seeing such a small and fucking happy woman always lingering around somewhere in the corners of his sight couldn’t be anything but a distraction waiting to happen. A bad habit that he didn’t have the mental capacity or emotional willingness to take on. Fuck… he already had to worry about the 141 as a whole, to begin with. Now you on top of that? It was more responsibility than he’d signed up for initially. Hearing you call him ‘sir’ day in and day out began to take its toll on his self-control. Ghost needed to either find out why you were hellbent on calling him that, or at least be enough of a bastard to you to be reassured that you did it because you wanted a polite way to tell him to shove it up his ass sideways.

The Lieutenant had been being nothing short of a prick in the last few months.

He was making paperwork back at HQ a nightmare that couldn’t be solved alternatively through someone like Gaz or Soap who often didn’t mind playing the part of the unbiased third party. Refusing to sign things when you stopped by his office, outright ignoring your necessary questions, and stonewalling you at every single stop along the way just to yield at the last moment and do everything you’d been asking for so the both of you wouldn’t face heat from any higher-ups. That alone was enough for you to consider talking to Soap privately since he knew Ghost the best… but you’d kept putting it off hoping that it was just a passing phase of shitty attitude.

Your patience and emotional strength fell through the floor after attempting for the third time in a week after something so fucking simple as trying to get his approval and official signature on a post-mission report Price had delegated to you after being called to Washington D.C. for a meeting. It wasn’t a major task, but knowing that the Captain had given you the responsibility first over anyone else made you want to impress him and take care of business without incident. God forbid you do something as simple as ask Ghost to pick up a pen and scribble his name at the bottom of a page so that you could send it on through the higher-up channels. It resulted in the Lieutenant straight-up yelling at you in the middle of the hallway outside his office when he’d found you standing there patiently waiting for him to show up. He wasn’t threatening physically, but it cut much deeper into your pride and feelings than it should have.

With every word that dripped venomously out of his masked mouth, you lost a little extra peace of mind on having such an untouchable and unshakably good opinion of Ghost for so long. This moment of undeserved verbal punishment was enough to make the corners of your eyes burn with inner disgrace, self-doubt, and plain old sadness which motivated you to get the hell out of there before the Lieutenant saw you cry. When you turned your back and walked away right in the middle of his berating for you being “too fucking annoying to tolerate”, your only destination was your personal quarters on the other end of the building where a lock on the door could shut out the entire base for as long as you saw fit. Upon the first estimation, it would be after Captain Price returned so that you could have at least one single chance at not getting a second punishment or dismissal from the squad. The sound of your door slamming shut and your back sliding down against it on your way down to the floor silenced the entire room around you, leaving just enough room for the papers clenched to your chest to flutter onto the ground and your weak cries to sounds amplified.

It was hours before you could drag yourself off the floor and into bed, too tired and wanting to fall back on the trained and instinctual desire to hide away somewhere isolated and not move for hours on end. Being a long-distance marksman gave you the talent of patience insurmountable to the average person, allowing days to pass by without you needing to do more than go to the bathroom before coming right back to a motionless position. That’s what you wanted tonight. You needed to focus all of your energy into your brain alone and use it to sort through the hurt burning through your eyes and throat, and the questioning that gave such a sickening feeling a chance root in your stomach. Questions of if it had been foolish to trust Ghost as much as you did the others, knowing how you’d been warned that he would be difficult to work with. Hoping you hadn’t been truly so ignorant of judging behavior to think that the Lieutenant was something much greater than his behavior had been not only today but for the past months.

The next two days were spent laying near motionless… not hungry or thirsty.

Just thinking, sleeping, and staring at the wall across from your bed.

A solid knock on your door was the first human sound that hadn’t been made by you in over forty-eight hours. You’d not looked at your phone or any communications since locking yourself inside, and there was a good chance someone from the squad had come searching for you after such a long period without seeing or hearing from you. When you refused to answer right away, another harder knock banged on the door twice and rattled the steel in its doorframe. Impatient. Testy. Quite familiar with everything you’ve been through lately. Recognizing the Lieutenant was the one outside made your gut churn all over again. Questioning whether to get up or not wasn’t hard. Laying perfectly still in bed, you waited. If you were being honest though, it’d been a long time since you’d spent so long restricting yourself from basic needs for the purpose of acting like a living phantom. Close to three years since any sniper position had left you utterly abandoned without resources. Only this time it was self-induced and nothing short of a trauma response you wanted to hide away from. Truthfully you couldn’t tell if walking to the door was an easy feat or not. After not drinking anything, using the bathroom wasn’t necessary and the last time you’d stood up didn’t cross your memory clearly.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door again one last time. But he didn’t wait long enough for you to answer before rattling the handle to the door with a heavy sigh that was audible through the cracks separating you. Metal on metal gritted softly and moved the door handle a bit further. Recognizing that as nothing short of Ghost picking the lock to your quarters without the slightest care of how he’d be breaking multiple stipulations laid out for them living in HQ. Either your physical or mental state kept you from giving a damn when the handle gave way fully, leaving a bright fluorescence light flooding in from the hallway into your pitch-black room. It made your eyes water and the urge to turn your head away was strong enough to budge your head into the blankets and pillow surrounding. Heavy boots made the paperwork scattered on the floor crunch softly and the sound of his deep breaths gave away his current state of frustration. Clearly not appreciating being locked out of a room that he had no fucking business being in. A long pause led to shuffling around, and the sound of your desk chair creaking under his weight.

“Gonna say somethin’?” He sounded no less irritated than the last time you’d spoken.

It made your throat burn to even think you’d allowed his to get in your head so deeply just to utterly rip every last bit of security and respect away from you for no damn reason. Your silence made quite the statement, even if the actual task of speaking hadn’t been a totally voluntary one. You’d not moved your jaw in days at this point.

“You’ve missed five drill sessions, two mandatory meetings, and one phone from General Shepherd.”

Listing off your offenses hardly bothered you. The consequences of this had been fully accepted days ago, and Ghost would have to do a lot more to get you up from this bed. You’d trained for hell, and no matter how badly Ghost had ruined your almost loving and patient view of him there weren’t enough men on the planet to make you get up voluntarily. Drastic… yes. Satisfying to your own pride… undoubtedly. When you didn’t even let out a single breath loud enough for Ghost to hear instead of that instant apology or willingness to appease him… please him even, with that little quip of ‘sir’ ready on your tongue, the Lieutenant was up out of that chair so quickly you heard it roll into the wall behind him hard enough to thud against the drywall.

“Goddamn it Brass, I demand a fuckin’ answer!” His loud bark caught your attention, but the feeling of your blankets being ripped off your body was a far more startling sensation.

Baring you to the cold air of the room, all your body managed was to raise chills on your skin in a feeble attempt to keep you warm or alert you to seek out that heat again. Tension exploded into shocked silence when Ghost didn’t utter more than a sharp inhale after getting one, shadowed glimpse of your body totally frozen on your stomach. You knew it couldn’t look great. Snipers could come back looking like skeletons sometimes after a long mission if they were given the orders to stay put. You’d not been laying nearly long enough for that to be the case, but dehydration was certainly a symptom you were ignoring quite easily, as well as the possibility of some minor pressure ulcers that would linger for a few weeks if you didn’t move soon. Ghost wasn’t as familiar with the sight of how you felt internally. Snipers weren’t commonly used or in collaboration with Task Force 141. You’d been their first real look at how the inner workings moved or didn’t, and much of your personal way of doing things had dispelled or blown away any misguided assumptions they’d made about your skills early on. Viewing a sniper after days of doing literally nothing, of her own free will…? That wasn’t healthy or accepted in general military companies. Lucky Ghost got the front-row seat though.

When you heard his movement next to you, weight pressed down the mattress at your side in the shape of his hands, and a low sigh registered.

“Brass…” Failing to even say something, you wondered if your own assessment of yourself wasn’t accurate. “It’s been five days.” His faltered tone was truthful, and it destroyed your semblance of time that had been misled by the absence of sunlight coming in through your room.

You thought about trying to say something, resolve falling flat when swallowing felt difficult. A gloved hand rested against your thigh and Ghost almost growled again, sounding a lot more like he was resisting the urge to squeeze you hard. Only his fingers traced along your hip and over the curve in your waist with a tense and heavy swallow. He was being gentle beyond your concept of his depth of emotion and understanding. Nearly loving as he paused over your ribcage with another pinched sort of sound. Staying like that for what felt like hours, you struggled to keep yourself awake. It had been a struggle to move your tongue in your mouth, testing what mobility you’d lost in the short term. Only Ghost wasn’t leaving like you expected, and suddenly his voice returned it its normal stature.

“This’s Ghost. Get a bay ready now, I’m bringin’ someone in.” The reverb of his voice crackled in a radio you knew hooked to his vest. A backup short-range alternative in the case that SAT couldn’t be established or wasn’t clear enough to rely on in the field. Apparently, he used it to keep in contact with someone on base. Or multiple people for all you knew.

“Copy Ghost.” A static voice could be heard and quickly the room was pitched back into a silence you wanted to remain in, but Ghost was adamant to keep infracting alone with a whole list of other rules that, for whatever reason, just didn’t fucking matter or apply to him.

His other hand searched around the dark until he found your face resting amongst the fabric of your bed, curling his hand around your head and meticulously lifting you so very slowly away from the bed with his other arm steadying your legs that had also been taken up off the mattress. You’d never touched Ghost once in all the time you’d known him. Understanding that with his sour attitude, there couldn’t be a single chance in Hell that touching him was an acceptable action. Whereas with Soap, Gaz, and even on occasion Price: hugs, handshakes, shoves, and other physical touches were common, Ghost totally ignored all human contact. Maybe Hell had frozen over outside of your quarters for your weak and still motionless body to be lifted up against the Lieutenant’s chest and carried preciously outside of your room into the burning light of HQ. His chest heaved deep and quickly against you. Both hands curled around you and flexed tighter each time you were able to hear another set of shoes approaching closer to you. Possessive like a soldier. Silent like a Ghost. Determined.

He takes you straight to the medical hall where three nurses and two of the on-shift doctors are fast to respond to your condition. Only Ghost refuses to let them take you away from him for any reason. Stoically stonewalling them just like he habitually did to you as they begged him to lay you down on a transport bed so they could take you back to a room for assessment. The Lieutenant took you there himself, with the group of nurses and doctors hot on his heels and surrounding your bed once Ghost had you settled down inside a private room.

The whole place smells sterile and like alcohol. It’s not the first time you’ve been here, but these are far different circumstances. You’re still too sensitive to open your eyes, but hands are all over your body, gloves fingers touching around the sore places on weight-bearing points on your body, pricks in your fingertips, and a needle poke to the back of your hand. It’s overstimulating, to say the least, and you’re worried they’re going to think you’ve tried to starve yourself to death or decided that living altogether wasn’t worth it and simply wasting away into your bed was the solution. Right away, one of the voices of the medical professionals breaks that worry in your mind by calling for some of the tests to be staggered, needing time between them for nothing other than your own benefit.

“Treat this no differently than prolonged active reconnaissance,” The female voice states softly. “Being on-the-gun for this long is detrimental to all senses, and she’s going to need a while to wake up in a meaningful way.” She added, voice coming clearer the closer she got to your head.

“You’ve been working very hard, I suspect. Maybe not in the field… but you’re one tough lady.” She commented to you quite personally, her hand falling to your shoulders. “We’re going to get you plenty of fluids and start you on a vitamin drip to get everything running as it should again. You’ve also got some slight bedsores, but as long as we take care of them now, you’ll be right as rain soon, sniper.”

Tests were run, treatments began, and nurse after nurse was brought in with both doctors running rotations in and out of your room for the rest of the night. All of them were under the hard watch of Ghost who’d not moved from his position sitting in the corner of your room where he could see not only you but anyone approaching the door. He’d been very quiet throughout the process, watching and waiting for someone to give him some news about your condition with actual certainty. Stewing over the guilt he felt knowing damn well he was the reason you’d shut down so far and were still unable -or unwilling- to come out of it yet. You’d been nothing but the perfect little woman, doing her job with skill and grace, making everyone around you happier just with one glance in your direction. But fuck, he couldn’t stand seeing someone do the callous profession of killing people with one single squeeze of her finger and still have so much innocent and emotional humanity inside such a small body. Ghost couldn’t wrap his mind around it. So instead of trying to do the right thing and figure it out, he did what a man so out of touch with empathy did: Try to snuff it out.

You threatened him whether you or he realized it in the beginning.

But now he could see it with that crystal fucking clear hindsight. How monstrous he was for punishing you with no foundation other than his own selfish fear of seeing a dynamic he didn’t know was possibly wrapped up inside of you. Sweet and little you, never saying anything to him other than a ‘yes sir’ or ‘no sir’. Goddamnit Ghost knew he’d nearly killed you in a way. Seeing days of neglect in your sallow expression, darkened under eyes, and weakened body was more than even his cold heart could take all at one time. Wasting away for someone as useless as himself, all because he’d never given you enough credit for finding something worth liking in him where no one else had. Screaming at you. Cursing your existence. Right in your face, while he’d been too big of a pussy to even take off his own mask he hid behind every day as he utterly destroyed your meaningful position and life working alongside of his and his squad. Owing you his life wouldn’t nearly cover his offenses. Laughably, Ghost admitted his own life or death couldn’t measure up to yours. So instead of saying any kind of bullshit apology, he sat in the corner of your room and denied himself sleep, food, and water because there wasn’t anything else he could do until you’d been considered healthy and strong again.

Almost one week to the day you had been signed off for return to duty with zero restrictions. Your physical and mental evaluations came back clean, and with both Price and Ghost signing off on the doctor’s orders, you returned to your quarters where you expected to see your room exactly as you’d left it before Ghost brought you into the medical wing. Only nothing was as you’d left it. All the paperwork left on the floor was gone, as well as the other documents that had been left on your desk that still needed finishing. All of it was gone. Your bed and all of the bedclothes you’d been taken from were also missing. Replaced with totally brand new bedding in dark hues of dark green and navy blue with a decidedly feminine pattern on the quilt. Items you didn’t own. Or have any idea where they came from. Even the smell of stale air was traded for a woody, and familiar smell that wasn’t of a candle, or room spray; It was from a person. The person who sat in the corner of your room in your desk chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest and dark eyes staring at you through the painted visage of a skull gracing a black compression mask.

“Sir,” You greet hoarsely, still working through some of the non-significant parts of your recovery that lingered. Ghost stood from his seat and met you halfway across your room with a silent nod, his hand reaching out and motioning for you to step closer to him. Warily but complicit, you make the few steps forward and watch his hand turn to slide against your jaw and stay there firmly. “I expected you to be at drill.” You say with a tinge of surprise at the touch of his bare hand resting against your cheek.

“Should be,” He replied flatly. “But I’m not.” You nod a little, biting your tongue when his fingertip rubs over the curve of your ear. His eyes were soft and his unarmored physique was highlighted by the shadows made by the lamp on your side table. He’s inspecting you, you know as much. Clear by his thumb pressing over your pulse point and the minute exactly that he waits before speaking again.

“Do you like the color green?” His question knocks you off guard and his eyes slide over the quilt laying neatly over your bed. You were quick to answer honestly out of mere habit.

“Yes, sir.”

His hand stiffens against your cheek, and Ghost takes another step closer. His boots graze the tips of yours and his chin is nearly tucked against his chest to look down at you properly. You’re breathing a little harder, anticipating another break of his patience and an onslaught of screaming all directed at your apparent mistakes made right in front of his face. Judgments you’d still be unable to solve no matter how much you thought about it or what you did to try and find a solution of healthy -or not- motives. Ghost doesn’t yell though. He actually lowers his face down to yours, eyes locked right on you and an intensity burning there.

“Why do you call me that?” His low growl made you shiver, especially when his hand dropped lower to your throat. Now squeezing, but holding your gaze steady on him, reminding you of his strength. The power over you he’d always held, and given you the instant to call him ‘sir’ in the first place. Everything about Ghost was overwhelming, and you’d always been one wave away from drowning under him.

“You deserve the honor…” You answer, certain. Even if he’d broken your spirit and came back in the aftermath with questions you still believed to be much too complex for a single-sentence answer. Hopefully, he understood a little bit better but the way you leaned against his hand, letting him actually feel the pressure of your throat pressing into his palm. Literally offering your trust in him over again, testing the Lieutenant and watching as his eyes widened. His other hand came up to your face, counteracting the pressure you’d applied to keep your breath and blood flow uninterrupted. His face is still only inches away from yours but unflinching at the close contact.

“Brass,” He murmured, masked face teasing closer with his own lack of control. “I’m not what you think I am.” Your chest tightens with his words, soaked in desperation that heats your lips and cheeks.

“What’s that, sir?” You question, earning another flinch of his fingers against your skin.

“Safe… Trustworthy… Honorable.” He replies, getting even closer. The smooth material ghosted over your lips, and his breathing fanning over you wetly through the damp material. You sigh, feeling lightheaded. Weak in his hands, confused yet happy to have your life held in the palms of his hands. Confused about where his mistrust comes from, but gaining perspective every time he flinches when you address him in the way you always believed he’d feel the most revered and… loved.

“You’re wrong,” You challenge, hands moving from your sides to run up the thin shirt covering his chest. “You’re a man of fear. One that death shakes at the mention of. Even looking at you through my scope a mile away is enough to remind me you’re capable of inhuman things…” Your voice lowers, hearing thoughts straight from your soul escaping without filter from your brain. “Yet you’re human. So much more than anyone sees. Because it’s not evil that keeps you going. It’s the fear and hatred of losing anything that means something to you.” Your hand rests over his chest, hearing his heart thundering against his ribs.

“You’re not a monster, you are terrified of losing everything. That is why I call you ‘sir’, is because you’re a man unlike any other, Ghost.”

Hearing your own voice say his name like that feels so foreign. Coming off your tongue with the letters not fitting together in a way that you’d experienced. But Ghost… he reacts differently. His hands tightened around you and he hugged you against his chest tightly. His chest heaves up and down and the thunder of his heartbeat impossibly quickens until your left ear can’t hear anything but the repetitive thrum of blood coursing through his body. Heavy arms snake around you, one around your head to secure it to him and the other clinging to your waist with his hand fisting into your shirt until it’s skin-tight on your stomach. The Lieutenant practically shakes against you, using your much smaller frame to steady himself.

Yet he’s dropping to one knee on the ground, bringing you down with him until he’s nearly cradling you and softly rocking your weight back and forth. Soothing himself in much the same way a child would after scraping their knee on the sidewalk and the tears have begun to dry up. God, it made the massive man feel so weak; much like you did after he’d yelled at you a week ago. Both of you kneeled on the floor now with all of your wounds opened up to each other and had silently found a calm within the eye of a destructive storm that had been raging against the pair of you while everyone on the outside had been simply looking on with bated breath to see how the ending would play out.

“Brass - I…” Ghost’s voice choked up again, his arms tightening around you. “God, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ignore you anymore… I’m losing my mind.”

You lean into his chest harder, arms struggling to reach all the way around his wide back in an attempt to support him a little bit. You understood through the way he was grabbing at anything on you he could desperately. So you did all you could and rubbed your hand up and down his back quietly allowing him the time to work through his thoughts. Both of you had been hurt by this, and while the Lieutenant’s form of apology came in the way he’d ushered you for help when you needed it most and unquestionably been the reason behind the way your quarters looked. Now it was you, cradling a man who’d never shown a single crack in his armor, feeling the weight of so many emotional wounds that he was practically bleeding out with pain and palpable regret.

“You don’t have to…” You whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Ghost just nods his head, panting heavily and giving a low sort of whine. “I’m so sorry…”

You smile sadly. “I’m sorry too.”

His eyes soften more, blinking away at wetness brimming at his waterline. “Say it again… please. I need to hear it. God, please.”

“It’s okay…” Your hands cradle his cheeks, feeling the sharp lines and hard muscles. “I’m right here, Ghost. We’re going to do this over again… Together, Ghost.”

Nodding weakly, he meets your gaze as you say his name again. Reveling in it. “Together… together, with you.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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suzukiblu · 6 months ago

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Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn!

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it?

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe.

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works.

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or–

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever.

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus.

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .”

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something.

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .”

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . .

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden.

#billy batson #conner kent #captain marvel #shazam #superboy #young justice #young justice animated #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!#u-h-h-g-h

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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okok line cook jj who is absolutely obsessed with the new doe eyed pretty smile waitress. she’s always so nice and patient with the crew even if they’re behind, getting yelled at ect. they flirt and she always gets all blushy and shy, and he just loves it. one day she ends up in the kitchen teary eyed and covered in coffee from an angry customer and jj just looses his shit cause his girl is obviously upset and even possibly hurt and how dare they.

this anon had my tummy hurting and everything like omg i love it sm .

he’d fall for you as soon as he’d lay eyes on you.

jj definitely didn’t have a type and his track history was living proof— however, with all the girls he’d hooked up with in the past they tended to be a little on the sassier side, confident, bites back and can handle the loud mouth that belongs to none other than the man himself— but he’d never felt deeply for any of them, happy to part ways with them when the fun was all over. you however, you were something else entirely.

it was like watching a baby deer trying to learn how to walk when you were brought into the restaurant as the new waitress hire. clearly you’d had no idea just how busy the beachside restaurant got, but you’d tried to adapt quickly. for the first few weeks you were skittish, dropping the occasional plate, tripping over extended legs from tables and forgetting a couple of orders — but surely enough the customers took a liking to you anyway. of course they did, you were adorable, polite, pretty and young — you could have set the place on fire and your manager would probably have let you off with a slap on the wrist.

jj was dead set on getting to know you, hell— he’d even consider himself your guide, befriending you and helping you out whenever he could. he’d have your order ready first everytime, greeting you with a wink that flustered you as he’d carefully hand you the plate and watch you shuffle off to find the corresponding table. he’d gently manoeuvre you out the way with hands on your hips when he needs to get behind you in the busy kitchen on chaotic shifts, smirking to himself at the way you get all doe eyed and embarrassed whenever he did it. it never took much to fluster you, and your sweetness had apparently been just what JJ had craved.

he noticed you started to come to him for everything, and it made his heart swell with pride. toeing nervously into the kitchen during a quieter shift, not many of the staff around that evening. “excuse me, jj?” he remembers your polite voice calling from behind him as he chops some bell peppers. he’s wiping his hands on his apron as he glances over his shoulder at you before turning around fully, giving you his full attention.

“yeah?” he breathes, almost silenced by how pretty you are.

“sorry to disturb you but theres some guys arguing really loud in the restaurant and i think they’re gonna fight and the security guy isn’t in today… dont really know what to do…” you shrug, clammy hands subconsciously playing with your work uniform. he could tell whatever had happened out there has made you uncomfortable, not a fan of confrontation or big scary men yelling. he’s quick to nod, tossing the dish-cloth he was about to wipe the surface with over his shoulder and placing a hand on your arm, looking down at you reassuringly.

“hey, you’re good, i’ll handle it, yeah?” he nods, brushing past you briskly and out the kitchen doors into the restaurant. it was night time, so the restaurant overlooking the beach only had a few customers dotted around eating their meals, equally disturbed by the loud quarrel the two seemingly tipsy men were having. you follow him to the door, watching him saunter out toward them without a care in the world. you liked that about jj, he wasn’t scared of nothing.

“alright ladies, pack it up. go kiss n’make up somewhere else, bein’ waaay too loud and i don’t think these people paid for dinner and a show.” he waves them off, the two men standing at their table having their argument.

“stay outta this kid, i ain’t going nowhere ‘til he gives me what he owes me!” one of them barks back, slamming his fist down on the table making you jump as the cutlery clatters. JJ doesn’t flinch in the slightest, stepping up closer.

“yeah, i wasn’t asking. you’re disturbing my waitress and quite frankly you’re pissing me off, so again, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” you pushed down the way ‘my waitress’ made you feel, knowing he was likely just throwing it out there without meaning.

“you think i give a fuck ‘bout how ‘ya waitress feels? we’re doing business here. why don’t you go back to the kitchen, huh?” the other man waves him off, and you see his eyes flutter in irritation a little at the mention of you. he locks his eyes on the man, oddly calm and steps closer, staring him down.

“i’m not askin’ again. leave.” JJ warns.

“or what, blondie?”

“or I beat the shit out of you and your little friend.”

you were happy your manager wasn’t in that evening, because JJ would have gotten in lots of trouble. like that one day, a few weeks later during an afternoon shift, patrons from the nearby golf course having swarmed in for their lunch. JJ had been chatting away with another cook in the kitchen at his post, laughing and swatting eachother with the dish rags when the doors swung open, making him double take when he’d clocked on that it was you. your eyes didn’t find his with a bright smile and fluttery eyelashes like they always did, in fact you didn’t look at him at all. upon further inspection, your uniform was drenched with brown liquid, assumably coffee even dripping from the ends of your hair. your bottom lip wobbled as you headed toward the cloakroom through the back.

JJ’s smile fell off his face and he chased after you, skidding to a stop infront of you as he places both hands on your shoulders.

“hey, hey what happened out there?” he speaks gently, gentler than you hear him speak with the other cooks anyway.

“some guys coffee was cold, so— so he dumped it on me. i’ll be fine, just— just need to change my clothes and go and clean up the mess out there and—” youre wiping your tears off your cheeks, mortified, and when you open your eyes again JJ’s no longer right there, the only sign of his existence being the sight of the kitchen door swinging. you curiously follow, standing in the doorway like you did last time. his eyes had scanned the room, quickly honing in on the older, sweaty Kook in an ugly polo loudly complaining about the ‘help’ with a puddle of coffee beside his table.

he didn’t think, striding over, lips pressed in a firm line. he grabs the man by his collar and yanks him with such a force out of his seat that his chair tips back and falls, skidding along the polished wooden floor. gasps ring around the restaurant, an imaginary spotlight shining on the blonde as he grips the man with white knuckles, looking down his nose at the flailing Kook struggling to get his footing.

“you think it’s okay to humiliate my waitress, huh? you think that shits all sweet? someone oughta teach you—” he’s hissing between grit teeth with a trembling voice when the security guard runs over to tear him off.

“maybank.” the officer warns with a knowing tone and JJ lets the man go, not without shoving him back by the chest first, a spiteful, quick adrenaline fuelled laugh leaving him as he did so.

“yeah, nah, we’re all good. get this asshat out of here though.” he backs off, letting the guard escort the shaken man away to the exit, probably profusely apologising on JJ’s behalf. he pants, watching him leave before looking around at the entire restaurants eyes on him, staring in shock. he scratches his cheek before holding up his hand. “hope y’all are enjoying the food.” he calls out, making eye contact with your manager who stands leaning against the bar with her arms crossed, shaking her head at him. he swears under his breath, before storming back toward the kitchen, not even glancing at you as he storms past you, knowing he’s in trouble.

he heads towards the staff cloakroom, yanking his apron off and beginning to punch the code into his locker, clearly deciding the best way to deal with this was to take off. you follow him, standing in the doorway.

“jj, you shouldn’t have done that.” you scold him softly, watching him screw up his apron and stuff it into his locker, rooting around for his stuff.

“yeah, well i did, so…” he doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, still out of breath with a noncommittal tone.

“you’re… you’re gonna get in trouble. i don’t want you to get fired.”

he suddenly turns to you when you approach at his side. “you think i want that either?” he snaps before softening, seeing the way your eyes widened in hurt confusion. “i’m sorry. i… i just don’t like how these assholes get to roam around and do what they want. they can direct all that shit towards me, i don’t care, i can take it…” he takes off his backwards hat, raking his hands through his hair. “but… but not you! they don’t get to talk to you like that. someone’s gotta show them, you know?” he rants and you soften, stepping closer.

“thank you.” is all you say, pressing your hands to his shoulders and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. you offer him a small smile, before turning around and heading back toward the door. you turn before you leave, his body still twisted towards you as he watches you in awe, suddenly a lot calmer. “no one’s made me feel safe like you do, jj.” you state before heading away.

he sighs, turning back toward his locker and leaning his forehead against the cool metal, screwing his eyes shut for a moment just breathing. when he turns back around, you’re gone, replaced by the disapproving glare of your manager.

“you wanna talk about what just happened?” she tilts her head.

“well, no— but i feel like i don’t really have a choice.” he forces a fake smile. it was gonna be a long day for jj.

#anon #linecook!jj #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank x reader

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vin-at-thehub · 26 days ago

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Vin wrote a fic for you btw @dustcrumbs

Here it is:

It was late, probably some point when the morning would come up and kiss the night away. The time where the sun wouldn’t rise with color but the moon would fade into the background and hold everything in a soft glow. It was also the point at night where Horror trudged his way back into the palace. He had been actively out all day with the plan of visiting his brother after he handled some supplies runs from Nightmares orders. If things had gone well, he didn’t show it, if it went poorly, he still didn’t show it, having his expression in a held smile. Masking in its own way.

By the time he had made it past the kitchen, to the stairs, he paused, hearing mumbling coming from that room. He stood there for a moment, before the voice of Dust clicked into his skull. Ah, Dust was awake—and talking to himself again-? Horror wasn’t sure who or why Dust spoke to seemingly no one, but he didn’t really mind overall. They were all freaks here, weren’t they-? Why would he have the right to judge Dust-? Especially when Dust had been nothing but nonchalant with him.

Horror smiled as he went and walked himself into the kitchen, eye-lights flashing around as he tried to spot Dust—there he was, mumbling something as he heated up a pot of water over the stove, and tried to strain some leaves into it.

“Whatcha doin bud-?” He asked gruffly, being caught off guard by how low his own voice was. Stars below, he was exhausted, wasn’t he-?

Eh, hopefully the big bad boss would just let him sleep through the day—and then he could stuff his face when he ate later. Maybe. It was still hard to eat without thinking of the people back home that had so little—even though he brought them food, and well, he had noticed the boss’s brother bringing some supplies at all—but at the end of the day, making sure the food didn’t go to waste was still something good to get done.

Dust snapped his skull up at him, knocking him out of his thoughts. Dust had a habit of pulling him out of his thoughts. It was nice. Sometimes Horror would just silently find himself near Dust, knowing that fog in his mind would go away around him.

The hooded skeleton shuffled his feet, eyelights likely flickering to the boiling tea. “Was gonna make you a…er cup of tea.” He said blankly. Horror stared at him in surprise for a second. Well that was a sweet pick me up. Hell, yeah. As he opened his mouth (teeth..-?) to reply with an enthusiastic thank you, Dust had started his mumbling again.

”shut up I’m trying—it’s just tea—..” He hissed to the air. Huh. Horror reached a clawed hand out and tilted his chin up—avoiding just grabbing his face like he used to since it pissed the boss of for some reason when he yanked Dust around like that—and bringing his attention back to him.

”Yah okay bud-?” He asked, tilting his skull so he could basically stare into the others covered eyelights. In a cute, friendly way of course. Dust just nodded, using blue magic to raise the pot and pour the tea into cups, handing one to Horror. Not saying much. Which was fine to him. Whatever he wanted to do was fine. Though Horror couldn’t help but be curious to what he had heard the other say earlier.

——————————————-

“Can I ask yah who you were chattin with-?” Horror asked, and Dust could swear his soul stopped in his ribcage. Papyrus, or whatever was left of him paused. Then he left. Coward. Leaving him alone with Horror after bullying him for making the guy tea. It was just tea, not a soul proposal or something. Dust took a sip of tea as he nodded, trying to silently figure out what to say, and sipping on leaf water was one way to delay his answer.

He wasn’t afraid to tell Horror. Not really. Not like he was trying to seem more sane than he was. But…it would be nicer to still seem slightly put together. It was probably why Horror constantly seeked him out. Right-?

Oh right he had basically downed the entire cup.

Time to talk, he supposed.

”I was..chatting with my version of Paps.” He said with a shrug. Not wanting to go into too much detail, besides, Horror would probably bomb him with questions anyway. Most did.

But as he waited, that bomb never came. Horror just nodded as he sipped thoughtfully on his tea.

“That sounds nice, bein able to chat with your bro a bunch.” He said with a slight grin.

Oh.

oh.

He wasn’t judging, wasn’t pushing him to say anything more, wasn’t acting like this was world shattering news.

Of course he wasn’t.

He was Horror, his perfect fucking man that understood everything far better than anyone would, then anyone gave him credit for. He kept things simple because simple was what they both needed. What the world needed.

Dust felt himself pull into one of his older grins. He wanted to tell Horror something. How he was feeling right now maybe, how nicely his words had effected him, something to make this…partnership stronger—just something. If he wanted to be a bit drastic “that warms the inside of my soul.” Or to be a bit simpler and direct, “I need you to stay with me. You make me feel safe.” Wonderful plan.

What came out was: “I need you inside me.”

…oh he was fucked.

#see horrordust ? at dustcrumbs.#fic writing #one shot

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thrumbolt · 1 year ago

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Top 5 most annoying Tamlin scene misinterpretations

1. ''There is no such thing as a high lady'' I hate this one, because it is always taken as some sort of proof that Tamlin is a raging misogynist who doesn't want an equal woman by his side or some similar type of nonsense. I don't know where this is coming from. Tamlin never wanted to be a high lord. He would probably welcome for someone to take over most of the work so he could just keep running through the woods. He also has absolutely no issues with taking advice from women in power (Ianthe? Hello??). His first reaction to the high lady question is literally this:

“Is everyone just going to call me ‘Tamlin’s wife’? Do I get a … title?” He lifted his head long enough to look at me. “Do you want a title?”

And let's not forget that Feyre's first reply is ''No, I don’t know if I can handle them calling me High Lady”. To which he then answers that she doesn't have to worry about that, since ''there is no such thing as a high lady'' because the magic choses the title and it keeps chosing males. Also this whole scene happens while he eats her out. Not that it's relevant or anything, just saying...

2. ''Tamlin killed Rhys' family'' No. Tamlin's dad killed Rhys' family. I have no idea how Tamlin doing it is ever the takeaway from that whole story. Let's just quote the actual scene:

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”

Yeah okay, Tamlin gave the information (supposedly) and was there (supposedly) sure, but it's highly unlikely that he was so willingly. Let's not forget that it's established that Tamlin was afraid of his father, that Tamlin's father is worse than Beron (who, I might remind you, tortures his sons) and that Tamlin was friends with Rhys at the time - which neither family approved of. Even Rhys doesn't actually believe Tamlin did anything besides being spineless:

''I didn’t care that Tamlin had been there, had allowed them to kill my mother and sister, that he’d come to kill me because he didn’t want to risk standing against them.''

In the end we don't know the details. Tamlin could've been tortured and tied up or whatever. Making him watch could've been a cruel form of punishment for being friends with Rhys. We don't really know until SJM graces us with Tamlin's side of the story.

3. ''It's really Tamlin's own fault that the spring court fell'' Alternatively also phrased as: 'Feyre just opened everyone's eyes to Tamlin's incompetence' and....honestly? This low key makes me question the reading comprehension of people.

Yes, Tamlin made a deal with Hybern, which was extremely risky, but the war was coming regardless (as we learn from Rhys in the first half of ACOMAF) and the spring court would be the main target because of its location next to the wall. Inviting Hybern into his lands in a trade is actually a pretty smart way to avoid a lot of death on Tamlin's part - plus he needed help to rescue Feyre and get her out of the deal she had with Rhysand (people forget that Tamlin didn't know Feyre didn't actually need rescuing from the guy that was abusing her in front of him in ACOTAR).

So yeah anyway, Feyre did several things to make the spring court fall: 1. She manipulated the solstice ceremony to make herself seem cauldron-blessed in the eyes of the people, 2. She made a sentry accuse Ianthe (who WAS doing sneaky shit) which essentially did nothing except putting Tamlin on the spot in front of Hybern, so he was kind of forced to throw the sentry under the bus. Good job Feyre, you got a poor sod whipped! But it also built resentment within the soldiers, which was her plan all along and 3. before leaving, she did this (let's just quote the whole thing):

''I had a people who had lost faith in their High Priestess. I had sentries who were beginning to rebel against their High Lord. And as a result of those things, I had Hybern royals doubting the strength of their allies here. I’d primed this court to fall. Not from outside forces—but its own internal warring. And I had to be clear of it before it happened. Before the last sliver of my plan fell into place. The party would return without me. And to maintain that illusion of strength, Tamlin and Ianthe would lie about it—where I’d gone. And perhaps a day or two after that, one of these sentries would reveal the news, a carefully sprung trap that I’d coiled into his mind like one of my snares. I’d fled for my life—after being nearly killed by the Hybern prince and princess. I’d planted images in his head of my brutalized body, the markings consistent with what Dagdan and Brannagh had already revealed to be their style. He’d describe them in detail—describe how he helped me get away before it was too late. How I ran for my life when Tamlin and Ianthe refused to intervene, to risk their alliance with Hybern. And when the sentry revealed the truth, no longer able to stomach keeping quiet when he saw how my sorry fate was concealed by Tamlin and Ianthe, just as Tamlin had sided with Ianthe the day he’d flogged that sentry …When he described what Hybern had done to me, their Cursebreaker, their newly anointed Cauldron-blessed, before I’d fled for my life … There would be no further alliance. For there would be no sentry or denizen of this court who would stand with Tamlin or Ianthe after this. After me.''

So, the sentries left Tamlin because of a lie. A fake story. Without sentries, Hybern decided to take over rather than just be guests and had a prime spot to attack the summer court in turn. Which is also why Tarquin is extremely pissed at Feyre - not Tamlin. So no, Tamlin wasn't a bad high lord. His only real mistake was ever trusting Feyre.

Sure, some argue that Feyre thought Tamlin genuinely sided with Hybern and might be a threat to the rest of Prythian, so taking him down would make sense for her even outside of petty revenge. But there's just one problem with that: Feyre is a mind reader. She could have just.....checked. lol

4. ''Tamlin didn't do anything Under the Mountain'' This one really gets my goat because it's not really true? Things Tamlin did to help Feyre: 1. He sent her away to the human realm. (People forget this, but he basically doomed his court to protect her ass - it's not his fault she came back!) 2. He made Lucien check up on her. (Yes Lucien was Feyre's friend but he still acted under Tamlin's orders!) 3. He ignored Feyre as to not rile Amarantha up even more (Come on, have you seen Amarantha? It totally makes sense) 4. He tries to get to Feyre, begging Amarantha to stop even as he is tied up, bleeding out from a stab wound to his chest that he can't heal because he has no powers - like what do you want him to do??? 4. He literally kills Amarantha the second he is able to

Also personal conspiracy detour: That music that Rhysand supposedly sent to Feyre was SO originally supposed to be Tamlin, you can't convince me otherwise. I will never not believe that this wasn't just a lazily done quick change when SJM rewrote book 1 and 2 to account for the boyfriend switcheroo. Attributing the music to Rhys makes absolutely zero sense. He's not a musical boy at all, come on! Music themes never come up with him again either! Meanwhile Tamlin played for Feyre before, is generally a musical guy COME ON! /conspiracy detour over

5. ''It's Tamlin's fault that Nesta and Elaine got turned to fae'' No. No it's not. He knew nothing about this. Ianthe did this on her own accord because Feyre told her where her sister's lived. Tamlin actually attacks (!) the King of Hybern over it (to no avail, but still).

Some people blame Tamlin for keeping Ianthe around afterwards, despite of what she did. Those people I want to refer to point number 3 in this list. Ianthe was working with Hybern. Tamlin tried to be buddies with Hybern for reasons. No, he can't just throw out Ianthe.

#thanks for coming to my tedtalk #tamlin #acotar #idk man i get that people hate him but literally everything he does gets interpreted in the most unfavorable way ever #or simply misquoted #and it's annoying ok #feel free to add to it or correct me #SORRY THIS GOT LONG I WENT OFF A LITTLE #pro tamlin #i guess

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yanderepuck · 4 months ago

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K but like a cooking event. Like a cooking show. There are two teams. We got:

Rei Garu Dante

Kuya Quincy Olivine

Yakumo is like the one helping them, he's in charge of it all. Edmond is helping with taste testing and he's terrified. Blade is also there for taste testing which isn't helpful. Eiden is also terrified. He has no hopes that they can make something good.

Let's look at the first team.

Rei? He's a great cook but you don't want to eat what he makes. Man finds a dead animal in the woods and drags it back home to eat. You think he can hunt? Look at him. He only knows how to cook with weird possibly poisonous shit.

Dante understands the concept of cooking, I feel like he didn't cook for himself but he's watched others cook so how hard can it be?

Garu.. Well he's eating all the ingredients. Rei can't tell him no.

Garu: can I eat that?

Rei: yeah sure *gives him some*

Garu: can I eat that?

Rei: here you go *gives him it*

And that's how they ended up with no ingredients. Dante came back after going to grab something and sees almost everything is gone.

Dante: WHERE DID THE FOOD GO

Rei: doesn't matter. I don't know how to cook with that stuff anyway *pulls it plants that very much look dead and/or poisonous*

Dante: we are NOT using those

Rei: as long as you cook them hot enough they won't kill you

Man has an iron stomach and Garu is full of food. Dante is going around the kitchen trying to find anyone else they could possibly use.

Now our second team.

Olivine is just so happy to be there and he's excited to start cooking. He's good at cooking, loves to do it.

Quincy does not want to participate. He rather taste test. He's also accepted the fact that he's going to be chopping everything up. But he's also there to keep an eye on Kuya. Why?

Kuya is trying to sabotage everything. Doesn't want to be there. His weak ass taste buds probably can't even handle what they are making.

The thing is ... Olivine is way too positive. Everything Kuya tries to sabotage Olivine is perfectly able to incorporate it into the recipe. It's driving Kuya insane. It would be best if he sat there and did nothing, but he's incapable of doing that. He has to meddle.

He tried to set some vegetables on fire and it ended up cooking them perfectly and Olivine is praising him. He turns the oven up higher but it turns out the oven doesn't work well so turning it up higher actually sets it to the correct temperature and Olivine is like "You're so smart! How did you realize that?"

Quincy is just standing there telling Kuya to just stand to the side and to stop touching everything.

Garu comes over and asks for some of their food

Kuya: what happened to your food?

Garu: I ate it!

Kuya: .. yeah here you go

Kuya also cannot tell him no.

Rei is doing what he wants while Dante is trying to swap out rotting food for whatever he can find really. But whatever he makes it turns out decent. It looks foul but when Rei tries it he says it's really good. Dante refuses to try it and he's holding back Garu so he doesn't eat any.

Taste testing is scary

Olivine is so proud of everyone for helping and their dish came out wonderful and he's so proud of Kuya for helping as much as he did.

#nu carnival #nu carnival kuya #nu carnival quincy #nu carnival olivine #nu carnival dante #nu carnival garu #nu carnival rei

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skzsauce01 · 1 year ago

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What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars.

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor.

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.”

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says.

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?”

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art.

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it.

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card.

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy.

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis.

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it?

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on.

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so.

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that��s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right.

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate.

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work.

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are.

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace.

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying.

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call.

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to.

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

328 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 1 year ago

Note

This is sort of a joke so only do this if you want to but: brothers with an mc who eats moss like kris from deltarune. It's..... weirdly attractive? There's a sheep joke to be made here

Sometimes we need a silly little joke, and that's okay. I hope you like it anon. Is the moss thing related to this blog name or is it just random? Also, I don't know who that is - and I had to look up what deltarune is. Maybe it's an age thing or maybe it's just one of those topics I know nothing about. Either way~

Also, I'll be honest, I set up an excel sheet with all of my requests organized by post type before I did this request. Now I feel more organized. Yay.

The demon brothers react to MC eating moss

(SFW) (silliness)

Word Count: +1,600

Lucifer

No. No. No. No. “Spit that out right now, MC.”

They’re going to give this poor single parent of 6 an aneurysm. Moss could be dangerous for MC. Where did they even get that? Did they at least wash it before shoveling it into their mouth?

What is he going to tell Diavolo if moss gets them sick? “Yeah, sorry about needing you to call a human doctor for MC. I looked away from them for one minute, and they started eating moss.” He has a responsibility to keep MC safe.

Lucifer is the type to order MC to get a psych eval when he sees them eating moss. He knows it’s weird and potentially dangerous. This kind of unusual behavior should be closely monitored by a professional.

He’ll nearly lose his mind believing that MC had definitely lost theirs.

“What in the Devildom has gotten into you? Have you utterly lost it? MC, I can’t handle these kids on my own anymore. I need you to be sane and relatively normal, please.”

Please don’t do this to him. Lucifer needs stability in his life, and eating moss is not the picture of stability.

He will make MC’s potential problem about him for a bit in true bad single parent fashion.

Mammon

“The hell ya doin’?!”

Mammon will not hesitate to point out how weird he thinks they are. He doesn’t want to hurt MC’s feelings, but he can’t stop himself from giving them a look of confusion and light disgust.

“That can’t possibly taste good, can it? Ya can’t just go ‘round eatin’ any plant ya see.”

Once the initial surprise works through him, he’s just worried about MC eating something weird. What would he do if they got sick? What would he tell Lucifer? He’s their guardian, and he takes that role more seriously than he likes to let on.

Mammon’s the most likely to try to physically remove the moss from MC’s mouth (but Lucifer is a close second). It could be dangerous. He’ll confiscate MC’s moss if they have any left and keep a close eye on them.

His search history from that day will be telling. “is moss dangerous for humans” “is moss dangerous for humans to eat” “types of moss that are safe for humans to eat” “how to tell if my human is sick” “human ate something bad what happens” “why did my human eat moss” “is my human mentally ill” “Devildom human doctors near me” “human-friendly moss” “good dates for humans” “how to charm weird humans” “how to romance weird humans no magic” (He got distracted.)

Leviathan

Levi finds it funny (and he probably actually knows which character you’re referencing, anon). It’s weird, sure, but he figures whatever MC is doing, it’s pretty harmless.

He wonders if that applies to algae. It might make cleaning out his fish tanks a bit easier if MC can and wants to eat it. The thought pops into his head, but Levi decides against it.

It’s strangely comforting that MC has something weird and arguably off-putting about them. Usually, he’s the weird, gross one. (This is where creepy Levi kicks in and he wants to know more about MC’s weird habits. Maybe if it turns out that they’re super weird, he can keep them all to himself. However, Levi lets his creepy thoughts go as quickly as they came.) Levi unlocked new information. Friend points +50. MC’s charm points +30.

“If I kiss you right now, that’s close enough to touching grass, right?” That’s a thing he’s supposed to do, isn’t he? Shit. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s too late.

Levi’s one of the brothers who will just let MC be and do their thing. He might double check and make sure MC isn’t going to get sick, but after that, he’ll leave them be. It’s not really his business. If it makes MC happy, he won’t judge.

Satan

Oddly supportive boyfriend.

The man’s a little feral and weird. I think he would find it kind of precious and adorable; it’s kind of like how cats like to eat grass.

He’d spend a while figuring out which mosses are safe to consume, asking MC if they have any preferences for which moss types they enjoy. Do they prefer certain textures and mouth feels? Are certain colors preferable? Which moss tastes the best?

Then, he would set up a moss terrarium for MC filled with their favorite mosses. Satan may ask them to help him build it as a cute little craft date. This way, MC will have a way to safely snack on moss whenever they wish. A terrarium has the added benefit of MC being able to control where the moss comes from so that they can avoid any harmful bacteria, viruses, pesticides, etc.

Of course, Satan understands that eating moss is unusual, and he may question what it is that compels MC to eat moss, but he doesn’t see the need to stop it.

He may taste the moss himself (in the same way that someone with a pet may be tempted to try pet food). It would, in all likelihood, disappoint him, but MC’s enjoyment is all that matters.

Satan has a real “MC can have a bit of moss – as a treat” kind of mindset. He’ll probably try to see if he can hand-feed MC like they’re a stray cat. He’s weird, too, but we love him.

Asmodeus

“Honey, no. This isn’t how we transition into our feral era.”

Asmo thinks it’s kind of gross, but he asks if maybe eating moss is good for the skin or something (because he can’t think of any other reason MC would even consider eating moss).

When they tell him that’s not why, he gives them a troubled stare with his arms crossed over his stomach. “Uhm, hun. Why are you eating it then?”

Even if MC tells him that it tastes good, there’s no way he’s trying it unless it has incredible health and beauty effects. He can’t stomach the thought of it.

After the disgust washes over him, the concern floods his system instead. He asks if MC is sure that they can and should be eating moss. Regardless of what MC tells him, Asmo will go to Satan or Lucifer (probably both) to make sure that MC isn’t putting themselves in any danger. He couldn’t handle it if MC got sick. All that stress would destroy his skin (and break his heart beyond repair).

Once he ensures MC’s health, he tries to just let MC do their thing. “Just please don’t eat that stuff around me, ‘kay? And if you eat it, please brush your teeth before you kiss me.”

Beelzebub

“Aw, MC, are you hungry? I’m sure we have something more delicious than moss in the fridge. I was just on my way to get a snack. I’ll pick one up for you too, okay?”

He’s probably eaten some moss in his time. He’s no stranger to eating weird things, so his reaction is the least judgmental.

Sometimes moss looks delicious, right? It just makes sense to him that they would want to try eating it.

Beel will definitely ask them to spare some of their moss so he can try it, too. If the moss tastes relatively bad, he might be weary of their tastes in the future, but as long as eating it won’t hurt them, Beel doesn’t care.

Beel is probably the only one who would try to suggest tastier methods of eating the moss. “What about putting it on top of ice cream? Or maybe in a cheeseburger. Mmm. . . cheeseburger. A moss salad might be more appetizing, too. I could blend it into a smoothie or some soup for you. How does that sound?”

It makes him feel a bit comforted that they both have eating habits that others think are weird – like it brings them closer and is a special connection only they can share.

Belphegor

He’s seen Beel bite into a pillar at the castle when he’s hungry. He’s not too troubled by a bit of moss-eating.

Belphie trusts MC not to be stupid enough to ingest moss that would be toxic to them, and not worrying saves him a bit of energy and time. Additionally, I think Belphie would be relatively knowledgeable about plants, so he would probably be able to tell if what MC is eating is likely to kill them.

For the most part, he just doesn’t care. MC could even kiss him with fresh moss breath, and he won’t give a shit. It’s probably better than morning or fish breath, and he’s still getting a kiss, so he doesn’t see a reason to complain.

He won’t be ultra supportive like Satan, but he will be a bit more enthusiastic about it than others – mostly because it gives him an idea for a prank. He could make soup with moss in it, have MC bring a bowl to Lucifer, and eat one themselves so he isn’t suspicious. Then Lucifer would end up eating moss soup. He could probably do that with multiple types of food, too.

One (stupid) point of contention will be that Belphie thinks moss is better as a pillow than as a snack, but he acknowledges that’s a ridiculous difference of opinion. However, that could be a nice date idea: find a mossy forest where he can take a nap while MC gets to snack on moss.

He will probably get scolded by Lucifer and Mammon for enabling MC’s behavior (and not at all because he goes on weird moss dates with MC).

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r0-boat · 11 months ago

Note

helllooo fellow Male Byleth lover, could I by any chance have s/o taking care of a sick Male Byleth? I just want to cuddle this man, check his temperature, kiss his cheeks, rub his shoulders, hold his hair out of the way as he's sick, I want to PAMPER HIM. CAN YOU help me wAtEr mY crops please they are dying? I just want to be his wife -Ichi <3

OH MY GOD YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON TO ACTUALLY ASK ME

I love you so much

Sick day

Author's notes:

Byleth is unaware on his crush on you. You think it's cute but you also think he doesn't like you so you're always willing to impress him.

Byleth was late to his lesson. As his You gathered his papers and finished grading the students tests but to your surprise he wasn't there. With no teacher the students looked to you.

'What could he be? he was never late to a lesson.' You thought The eyes of the students ready to learn the lesson of the day making you nervous.

"A- I'll be back!"

"The house leader is in charge, be sure to do your tasks for today around the monastery."

You sure hope putting the house later in charge would not serve to bite you in the ass later.

You make your way too Byleth's dorm room You're not once calling his name only to get no answer.

"The door isn't locked but..."

Worry pools in your stomach. You took a deep breath opening the doors to his quarters.

Byleth hardly even noticed you. His eyes closed breathing deeply He was in his casual wear his armor too heavy for his weaked body.

You press the back of your hand against his forehead that made him open his eyes.

"oh, did I oversleep?" He grumbled his voice scratching and terrible.

he was hot, burning up

"yeah you're not going anywhere."You stated placing your warm hand up to your forehead.

"but the lesson the students-" He protested.

"Professor please You're not well. You need to stay in bed and rest Don't worry about the lesson I-I got it covered."

More or less got it covered but.

His eyebrows furrowed on his otherwise emotionless face.

Of course you wouldn't know how to deal with the students alone. That is his fault perhaps the teachers were right he does coddle you a little too much.

He sighs "very well, the students can handle themselves"

Knowing that you'll have to deal with whatever the hell issuance due today later doesn't upset him as much as he thought it would. Maybe he's just distracted by the fact he gets you all to himself. The students always monopolize your time You are quite popular with them That's one of the many things he likes about you. He can't help but savor that he has you all to himself today. Call him selfish.

With his emotionless face you can't tell what he's thinking from the way he sighed He seemed disappointed. Way to make your boss hate you more...

His eyes widen when you brushed his hair out of his face You're gentle fingers caressing his skin. If he had a heart it would have quickened instead butterflies filled his stomach. A feeling he was not familiar to.

If he was here the whole time he must have not had breakfast yet. As you start to leave. His body moved on his own his fingers catching your sleeve He wasn't sure why he did this either when you looked down at him your eyes full of life and fire He stuttered.

"where are you going?"

"professor you need to eat you haven't eaten anything since yesterday have you?"

He looked away from you confirming your suspicion.

"I won't be gone forever, I'm just going to get you some soup from the cafeteria."You smile.

Byleth nods "can I get something spicy?"He said with a cough.

Are you kidding me? He's probably hiding in but his stomach will not handle anything spicy. One spoonful and it will all go up.

"no" You respond bluntly. "When someone is recovering from a sickness, spicy food is the last thing they need. Professor or not no one is exempt from this rule."

The irony was cute here you were nagging at your own boss The person you are supposed to be assisting everyday. He looks like a kicked puppy. Sad that he can't have his favorite foods.

Byleth stayed on bed rest for the rest of the day You had left to take care of some extra duties as well as help around the monastery along with the students. The students of his class came to visit him every now and then but he felt lonely without you. He always feels a little antsy when he doesn't know where you are. You're always getting yourself into danger. You always tell him you can protect yourself but, he'd rather you not be in danger at all. You did tell him to call you when he needs anything. And to be honest he called you a lot. A lot more he'd like to admit.

He heard a knock at his door "come in." His voice was almost as smooth as before still sounded like something was in his throat though.

His eyes light up when you're familiar figure walks through.

"I'm here with some medicine"You play the glass bottle down next to his bed. Despite the bitter taste he takes it all with no change in his face.

"The medic also said I should stimulate your muscles to help you relax." You smile.

That got his attention.

His eyes wide his lips parting his cheeks pink. The thought of you touching him was making him go crazy you make him go crazy and he doesn't know why. His eyes starting around making your eyebrows furrow with worry.

"um Byleth?"Your name rolls off his tongue instead of his usual nickname a very welcome surprise.

"Y-yeah hold on." He mutters sitting up from his bed his body still felt weak and hot but he was getting better. He had taken off his shirt a while ago, You try not the stare too much to his rippling muscles and scars that decorated it when he turned around You can't help but stare. He held his head down when he felt, delicate fingers rub into his bare shoulders. His back was just as muscular as his front. You feel dirty oggling and touching your colleague like this. You just want him to get better. So you push your sinful inner thoughts down and continue pressing your thumbs against his shoulder blades.

Dear gods you're so good at this. He's practically melting in your hands. He never knew how much he craved your touch till now. Years of hard physical labor and harder battles melting away with each roll of your thumb.

Exhaustion hit them all at once by the time you were done. He grown does he laid back down in his bed He can already feel his body turning into liquid as soon as he hit the mattress.

He couldn't keep his eyes open He wanted you to stay. He wanted you to stay here with him but he couldn't bring himself to speak he was so exhausted and weak the last thing he Saw was your perfect smile as you thread your fingers in his hair.

#byleth eisner #male byleth #byleth x reader #fe3h x reader #male byleth x reader #byleth fire emblem #fe3h byleth #fe 3 houses

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

Note

Hi CC! Hope you’re doing good. 🐚🦀 here!

These past few months I can’t help but ponder the demon brothers’ sock-wearing habits, especially for sleep. So here are some of my notes!

Lucifer: Old man vibes old man socks, through all seasons except summer because it might get too hot.

Mammon: One that changes depending on the temperature, cold means sock and vice versa. Although I do think that he’d get those really thick and fluffy ones to match his hair.

Levi: Going with the entire “reptiles are cold-blooded” thing, socks. All day everyday and season, he needs all the warmth he can get. Probably gets ones with his favorite characters on it but never wears them for preservation purposes.

Satan: No socks all year round but is someone (you/mc) gifts him a fair of cat ones he’s either going to try and preserve them or wear them until they have holes.

Asmodeus: Given that his preferred outfit for sleep is just… nude I’d say no socks. Unless if he wants to tease a shy mc, maybe something along the lines of: “Oh don’t be so shy mc, darling. I’m not completely naked now am I?~”

Belphie: I’d say that Belphie really doesn’t have much of a preference. He’s the demon of sloth and he is a professional in every aspect. Although I do imagine him sleeping with inly one sock to get a better temperature range when sleeping.

Beel: I can see him wear really fluffy socks like Mammon but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. Will try to eat the socks with food patterns.

I’m not too sure about the dateables but Solomon’s definitely giving old man vibes and I dan see him getting socks with funny patterns. Maybe Luke also wears them because he’s scared of the monsters under his bed nipping at his feet.

Hope this was a fun read, what do you think? Would love to compare notes, and have a great day!

Well hello, 🐚🦀 anon! It's been a minute since I've seen you in my ask box! I hope you're doing well!

I am staunchly against wearing socks to bed... I like to be FREE lol. (To this end, I also don't wear pants. It's all oversized t-shirts for me.)

Anyway, I totally see Lucifer as a sock wearer. I mean, we had that whole saga in the daily chats about his missing socks. You can't tell me that old man doesn't cherish his socks. So I fully agree with you on that one lol.

I was under the impression that Mammon also sleeps in the nude? I think there was a daily chat where he said he only wears Devilish No 5 to bed which is a freakin' perfume. He's such a dork but for some reason that makes me love him more. But I also think that Mammon likes to be comfortable, so I think he'd wear socks (and possibly other pjs) if it was cold. Also you know I don't think he could handle sleeping nude with MC (at least not at first) and I also think he often sneaks into MC's bed. So therefore I tend to imagine him as being one of those pajama pants and tank top types. So I think he would absolutely wear socks if it was cold.

YES to cold blooded Levi always!! If they had animal forms and Levi could become a lil snake I think it'd be SO CUTE if he just curled up inside a sock. I'd carry him around in his little sock in my pocket all day tee hee~ But anyway, I very much think that he's always cold and needs socks all the time. If he's in demon form, he should have a tail sock too.

Satan can't resist the cat socks. I don't know why but I agree with you that he wouldn't wear socks to bed. He would probably find them irritating lol. He should still get a tail sock though just because that's adorable, but his is like... I mean I know we all kinda headcanon it as bone now, but it looks like metal. That thing would probably shred a sock.

Oh, Asmo. Definitely only wearing socks in order to tease MC, I agree with that 1000%. I mean you could wear socks if you sleep nude I suppose, but I think Asmo would prefer to go sockless in such an instance.

Oh yeah I think Belphie could sleep no matter what anyway. It's probably just whatever's most convenient at the moment.

I don't know why, but I kinda headcanon Beel as being naturally very warm. Just absolute furnace. So I see him not really wearing socks to bed. Though I like the idea of him wearing fluffy ones because that is super cute lol.

Diavolo wears Lucifer's socks to bed. Nobody can convince me otherwise.

Barbatos for some reason strikes me as a no socks type. I don't know why. But he also needs a tail sock because wow that would be so adorable I think I'd combust. He would only wear something like that if MC got it for him, though, I think.

I think it could go either way with Simeon. I think he's probably one of those who wears socks depending on the weather. If he's cold, he puts some on. If he's not, he doesn't. It just makes sense.

I agree about Solomon and the patterned socks. I think he'd find that amusing. I would try to find him socks that have pact mark patterns on them because I personally would find that absolutely hilarious. This is because I have a terrible sense of humor, but I think he'd indulge me and wear them lol.

Ahhh Luke wearing socks to protect his little toes from getting snatched is so cute! Headcanon accepted.

This was a fun read, thank you for bringing it to me! It was fun to think about this! I hope you also have a lovely day!

#I myself have quite a collection of socks #mostly because my mom keeps gifting me funny ones #I'm not complaining they make me laugh #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #🐚🦀 anon #misc answers

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featjunranghae · 2 months ago

Text

blissfully unaware - 08. cat dad

soobin fiddled with his drink as he looked at the entrance door. he had originally heard from yeonjun that you'd be here tonight. and your social media post confirmed it. he couldn't help but feel nervous as he glanced at the door again.

he had no idea how to approach a girl. the last girl he talked to was paired with him in a project. he didn't have that many female friends as well. so he had zero experience. it felt silly. having a crush on someone at such a big age. but when he saw you that day on the set. he knew he was down bad.

but he never talked to you except whatever that awkward chocolate milk situation was. so he resorted to stalking your social media. you were so loud, so bubby. he was intimidated to approach you. but after loads of training from yeonjun. he believed he was ready to approach you.

he looked at the entrance and finally he saw you. god you looked so pretty. "quit staring like that you'll scare her." teased beomgyu pushing his jaw up.

soobin could care less about what beomgyu had to say as he watched you walk in with your friends and make your way to yeonjun who welcomed you with open arms. "dude just go to her."

"isn't it too fast? she just arrived-"

"just go before someone else snatches her up." beomgyu lightly pushed him in your direction.

soobin cleared his throat trying to act nonchalant. yeonjun smirked as soon as he noticed soobin. "yeah and then I was telling them to just go for it- oh soobin." he started. "aren't you on alcohol duty today? what're you doing here?"

"am i?" he muttered getting a hard jab from yeonjun. "yeah I was just looking for kai." he said realising he was supposed to play along. he tried his best not to look at you cause damn if he did his face would show how flustered he was.

"so guys what do y'all wanna drink?" yeonjun asked you and your friends.

"nah man I'm trying to bag this girl. can't get drunk." keeho said.

"I can't handle alcohol." sion said.

"I'm so ready to get hammered." gaeul said. "and yn too needs a drink."

you were taken back. "but I'm the driver-"

"I'll drive." keeho quickly says. "you take a break."

and that's how you ended up with soobin at the kitchen. gaeul escaped midway saying she was going to talk to some cute guy and left you alone. not that you really minded. "so... what do you wanna drink?" he asked finally looking you in the eye. his eyes quivered before he looked away and you couldn't help but smile.

"whatever you wanna have."

"oh..." soobin tried think of what he could say. he wasn't planning on drinking today either. "I... we have chocolate milk."

really soobin. chocolate milk?

he tried his best not to facepalm as he felt you laugh beside him. but that's the first thing that came to his mind since he knew you liked chocolate milk. you probably thought he was such a loser or something.

"I like chocolate milk."

he stole another glance at you and could see your smile. he couldn't help but smile back. he got two chocolate milk for you two from the fridge and handed you one.

"so soobin... tell me about yourself... kai talks about you a lot." you said leaning on the counter looking up at him.

soobin gulped. you were so pretty. what was about him that he could tell you. he did nothing beside playing games, eating, going to uni and rotting in his bed. "I... I have a cat."

"a cat?" you asked eyes widening. "you don't give cat dad vibe."

"we uh... we adopted him. all five of us." he said scratching the back of his neck. "a black cat."

"a black cat?" your smile widened.

he nodded. "he's uh... not good with crowd... he's in my room."

"can I see him?" you asked. soobin usually doesn't like letting people in his room. but the way you stared at him he felt like saying no would be equivalent to kicking a puppy. "I have an orange cat. maybe they can be friends as well."

"sure." he smiled.

previous - masterlist - next

taglist - @sumzysworld @glorism @soobinieswife

#txt #beomgyu #text imagines #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #moa #soobin #taehyun #yeonjun #heuningkai #soobin series #soobin texts #soobin ff #soobin reaction #soobin fanfic #kpop text series #kpop texts

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 2 years ago

Text

Gaz Headcannons

Damn y’all, sorry for disappearing for six months. I’ve been in and out of the mental hospital like a yo-yo, so uh, have some headcannons to make up for it ig.

SFW

Tw: Cursing, brief mentions of violence, (very brief) sexual themes.

I picture him as a night owl, but that doesn’t mean he likes sleeping in super late. He likes some structure in his day (a side-effect of being in the military) and if he’s not out of bed by 9 he starts to feel guilty, like he’s wasting the day.

Despite me saying he’s a night owl, he’s not truly a night owl so much as he just gets so absorbed in what he’s doing he looses track of time and next thing he knows it’s 2am.

From an outside perspective it would be easy to assume he has more trauma than the rest of the 141- but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He probably has the same amount for the most part, he’s just the only one who handles it in a healthy way. He’ll reach out for help if he needs it, has a therapist he sees regularly, and takes a low-dose of anti-anxiety medication (I want to say Zoloft cause that’s what I’m on lol). All said, he’s the only one who actually acknowledges it and doesn’t pretend it’s not there.

This man definitely games. He might play a first person shooter here and there, but honestly I don’t think he’d like them, they remind him to much of work and in his free time that’s the last thing he wants to be reminded of. I can see him playing Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, and Graveyard Keeper (it’s not well known but it’s SO good). The grim themes while still managing to be a cozy game really appeal to him.

His perfect date is you two ordering take-out and eating it on the couch while you play games together. He just absolutely adores being in your presence.

Despite this, quality time is not his main love language (although it is a close second). His first is words of affirmation. He loves how you get flushed and turn away from him when he compliments you out of nowhere. Literally you could just be in the same room, not even interacting, and this man would out of nowhere be like “You’re so fucking gorgeous. It’s a miracle I don’t drop to my knees every time you enter a room.” And then just causally go back to what he was doing.

On that note! This man is so into body worship. Just let him kiss, and lick, and suck, on you to his heart’s content and you will have one happy Gaz.

Also he just adores showing you off. He likes staying home sure, but he also likes taking you out on date nights and flaunting you (respectfully). He’s just so very proud to be in a relationship with you.

On the theme of bars, if someone gets close to you or touches you without your permission, this man is watching. He won’t say or do anything, he’ll just silently watch the person’s behavior. His years in the military have made him very good at reading people.

If he sees that they’re getting closer than you want, or otherwise making you uncomfortable, he’ll suddenly get very close to you. He won’t outright say anything, he knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll rest a hand on your shoulder. Both telling you that he’s there if you need him, and the creep to watch themselves.

If they back off without him having to intervene, great, you both can go back to enjoying yourselves, if he does need to get involved gods help the person his aggression is aimed towards.

He’ll take a few steps towards them, subtly growling (you know that one scene with price? Yeah that). He’ll tell them to back off, that you’re obviously not enjoying the conversation. If words don’t work, he won’t hesitate to resort to a fist fight. He won’t land the first hit however, he knows better. He might not be as physically strong as Ghost or Price, but this man has technique, and his opponent is knocked out in an heartbeat.

After that he is all over you, asking you if you’re alright, if you want to go home, etc. Whatever you need or want will be provided. He isn’t feeling jealous in that moment, just concerned. He wants to make sure you’re okay more than anything. After the fact, when he thinks back on it, he may feel a spark of jealousy, but it’s nothing he can’t quickly and easily reason away. After all, he trusts you completely.

NSFW

Tw: Body worship, nipple play (but no mention of breasts), biting, mentions of BDSM (in general), choking, slapping, Praise kink, minor degradation, quickies, aftercare

As mentioned earlier this man is the king, of body worship. He’ll work you up slowly, sensually. Kissing, licking, and teasing every inch of you before he even thinks of touching in-between your legs.

Your nipples will be sore by the time this man is done with them. He’s just enthralled by them, watching them get hard at he pinches and bites.

Speaking of bites, it’s not just your nipples. Afterwards you’ll find plenty of dark bite marks on your chest, neck, waist, and inner thighs. The feeling of your flesh under his teeth is just… exquisite.

Yes this man may be a tad bit… nippy, but he isn’t into anything that would truly hurt you. The farthest he would go would be choking you (after a long conversation and plenty of research), or a quick slap or two to your ass.

He also mixes degradation and praise together beautifully. Things like “such a beautiful little slut for me.” And “Damn, you’re such a good little whore.” He’ll sprinkle in a healthy bit of praise to. His main priority is your pleasure after all. <3

While he isn’t opposed to aspects of BDSM, I can’t see him being interested in the strict dynamics side of it, at all. Yeah sure he enjoys doming and subbing but I can’t see him wanting to bring them outside of the bedroom. And even in the bedroom, there’s no strict rules. He just wants to have fun with it, and he wants you to as well.

He isn’t opposed to quickies. He doesn’t partake in them often as I see him having a sex drive that is average to low. But if you both need to be somewhere soon and you just have to have him? He’ll get on his knees and make sure that yours are wobbling as you walk out to the car. Don’t worry about him darling, you can make it up to him later. Like I said, your pleasure is his priority.

When all is said and done this man takes very good care of you. He’ll insist on a shower or bath together (depending on if you can stand or not). He seriously enjoys taking a bath with you afterwards though. He’ll run a bath that is steaming hot, “To relax your muscles” he says. He’ll also add some lavender and sandalwood oil to the water, to relax and ground you.

He’ll take such good care of you. If your hair needs washed he’ll give you the best scalp massage you’ve ever had. If it doesn’t (or you just don’t want him to) he’ll put it in a remarkably neat bun on the top of your head so it doesn’t get wet. And if you don’t have a lot of hair/no hair? You’ll still get a scalp massage. It doesn’t matter how little hair you have, this man is rubbing shampoo into your scalp claiming “It helps keep you clean!” Just let him take care of you please.

After he’s dealt with your hair he’ll lather up a rag with a generous amount of soap and take his time gently cleaning off every part of you. He won’t ask you to, but his heart will melt if you return the favor and wash his body clean.

After you both are clean he’ll take his time drying you off with the fluffiest towel he can find. This man knows your skincare routine by heart and WILL make sure every step gets done in the correct order. Once you’re all clean and dry he gives you some of his clothes to wear. And you know this man wears oversized clothes when he’s off duty for the sole purpose of making sure they fit you.

If you’re hungry he’ll order your favorite take-out, if your not he’ll still insist you eat a granola bar and drink some water. You burned a lot of calories and sweat a lot! You need fuel!

If you’re somehow still awake after all this he’ll gently pick you up and bring and you to bed. Falling asleep in this man’s arms is a dream come true. <3

A/N: I’ve never written any kind of smut before, so constructive criticism is very welcome. I got kinda out of control with the aftercare part. I had to stop myself. Plz let me know if you enjoyed!!

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cottoncandyswirl828 · 5 months ago

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Zuma Appreciation Week: Day 6 - Favorite Vehicle

I honestly never gave much thought to which vehicle was my favorite, so this is another one I had to think about for a minute. Ultimately, the title of favorite Zuma vehicle has to go to the Adventure City Hovercraft. A hovercraft is just a super cool vehicle in my opinion, and the Adventure City version can separate into a submarine and a life raft, which is just such a clever and unique upgrade to the hovercraft’s original submarine mode that really makes the Adventure City hovercraft stand out against the rest of Zuma’s vehicles. That means that for today’s prompt, we’re headed to the big city!

“Hey guys! Great to have you all back in Adventure City!”

“Great to be back, Liberty.” Ryder replied, “Skye’s been looking forward to this trip for awhile now.”

“Hey girl!” Skye called as she practically bounced out of the Paw Patroller, “You ready to hit the town? I heard there’s this big arcade that just opened downtown.”

“Heck yeah! I’ve been dying to go there! They say it’s the biggest arcade in the city!”

“Would you girls mind if I tag along?” Zuma asked, “It sounds like a ton of fun.”

“Sure! From what Skye has told me, you’ve got quite the competitive streak. I don’t mean to brag. But I do hold the high score in every game at the old arcade restaurant by the park.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe…”

So, Liberty brought Skye and Zuma to the brand-new Adventure City Mega Arcade, and boy was it mega. A two story building decked out in enough neon lights to been seen from space, with a food-court, laser-tag arena, and according to the advertisements ‘Over five hundred games for countless hours of fun!’ Zuma had half a mind to try and count all the games in the arcade to see if that statement was actually true.

Skye was immediately drawn to the Pup Pup Boogie machine: Pup Pup Boogielution, while Liberty and Zuma made a beeline for every competitive game they could find.

“I’m gonna crush you AND these Wack-a-Moles, Zuma!”

“Oh, racing games are my JAM! Prepare to eat my dust, Liberty!

“That No.1 highscore slot is mine!”

“I’ll wipe out these aliens before you even get the chance to reload!”

“How you like them apples, water pup?”

“Get owned, wiener dog!”

The two pups were racking up tickets so fast they could probably sell out the prize shop if they wanted to, but the amount of tickets they were winning was the last thing on either of their minds.

However, a beep from their pup-tags stopped both the pups in their tracks.

“Paw Patrol, to the Pup Tower!” Ryder’s voice called from their communicators, so Liberty, Zuma, and Skye raced out of the arcade and met up with the other pups in the Tower’s elevator, where Marshall crashed into the others with his usual clumsy flair.

“Talk about a metro-fall-a-ton!”

The pups laughed as they rode the elevator to the observatory, where Ryder was waiting.

“Alright, pups, we’ve got a big mission on our hands. The waterway connecting Adventure City’s river to the ocean has been blocked, causing the river to flood. We need to clear the waterway before it causes any more flooding. Zuma, I’ll need you and your submarine to clear whatever may be blocking the water flow, we’ll also need your rescue raft to help anyone who’s been swept away in the river.”

“Let’s dive in!”

“Marshall, you’ll be in Zuma’s rescue raft to search for anyone caught up in the floodwaters and administer first-aid if necessary.”

“I’m ready for a ruff-ruff rescue!”

“And Chase, I need you to secure the perimeter of the flood zone and handle crowd control.”

“Chase in on the case!”

“Everyone else, stand by in case we need more help. Paw Patrol is on a roll!”

The three pups followed Ryder to the deployment room, howling with delight as they were launched down the ramp and onto the streets. Zuma would never admit it out loud, but a part of him was always really happy whenever they got a mission in Adventure City, he loved the excitement and thrill of getting launched at roughly 50 miles an hour. It was moments like that that made him love his job all the more.

It wasn’t long before they got to the flooded river. The water had already risen past the banks of the canal, spilling water onto the nearby streets, so Chase immediately got to work closing off the roads and redirecting traffic.

Zuma drove his hovercraft off the edge of the river, separating it into his submarine and rescue raft as he dove into the water with Marshall right behind him to man the raft.

As Marshall scanned the water for civilians, Zuma headed downstream to locate the blockade. If Zuma remembered correctly, the river was connected to the ocean via the sewer system, which was probably where the blockage was. Fortunately, the river entrance to the sewer was pretty big, so Zuma had no trouble getting inside.

The sewers were completely flooded, and the first thing Zuma noticed as he entered was the large amount of garbage and debris floating around. There had been a lot of rain in the city recently, so it was likely the garbage was washed into the sewers from the storm drains. He’ll have to talk with Rocky later about improving the city’s waste management, maybe a system to catch the garbage as it fell into the storm drains, but that was a problem they could tackle later, right now he needed to focus on the task at hand.

Zuma’s eyes widened as he turned a corner, slamming on the breaks to avoid hitting the literal wall of trash in front of him.

“So this is what’s blocking the water. Yeesh, this city sure makes a lot of trash. I’m gonna need some back-up.” Zuma reached for his pup-tag, “Ryder, I’ve found what’s blocking the waterway. A bunch of trash got clumped together and got stuck inside the sewer. I’m gonna need some type of net or something to collect all the trash in.”

“Great work, Zuma. I’ll have Chase meet you at the sewer entrance with one of his nets, do you think that’ll work?”

“That should do the trick.”

After meeting up with Chase and getting the net he needed, Zuma dove back into the sewer and used his submarine’s claw arms to start collecting the trash. It was a long and tedious process due to the sheer amount of garbage, but after awhile of chipping away at the trash wall, he managed to break through to the other side, creating a swift current that pulled him along through the sewers.

“Woah! Ryder, I’ve cleared the garbage. The water is rushing pretty fast, so make sure everyone is out of the river.”

“Got it. You okay, Zuma?”

“Yeah, I’m good, just going for a little joyride in the rapids. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

It was a pretty rough ride as he was carried through the sewers, but Zuma had plenty of experience with rough waters and was able to keep his sub under control until he was spat out into the ocean, along with the rest of the trash.

“Whew, talk about a wild ride.”

Zuma made his way to the Adventure City beach, where Ryder and Rocky were waiting for him.

“Great job, Zuma,” Ryder applauded, “Rocky can take your sub to clean up the rest of the trash while you get your rescue raft from Marshall.”

“Thanks Ryder, though, are you sure Rocky knows how to drive my sub?”

Rocky just shrugged, “Eh, how hard can it be?”

Zuma went silent.

“… Rocky, so help me, if you crash my sub, you’re gonna be washing my pup-pack for a month. And believe me, that thing is a pain in the tail to clean.”

#Zuma Week 2024 #ZumaWeek2024 #Zuma Appreciation Week #paw patrol #paw patrol zuma #zuma paw patrol #Justice For Zuma

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