#yeah im tagging rain world fight me

[lordofthesillystraws]

What if Jyushimatsu was an iterator

see, i hate that hes actually cute

fourteen pines... bit on the nose isnt it?? oh well, i couldnt think of anything else

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[steeloptic]

intro post

yeah sure i guess i'll make one. nothing better to do

bug/jesse — they/it

pronouns page

comms — closed!

art requests r always open and if you give me one i will jump around excitedly. smiles

other blogs

@raumline • @capitan-fanclub

pro/comshippers and terfs fuck off.

im prone to randomly switching fandoms with little to no warning, so follow me for a specific one at your own risk! right now im mostly posting about object shows

more under the cut rahhh

• i dont really have anything interesting to put in a bio.. im currently studying art & design at college, i sometimes write fanfiction and im very multifandom. i also like robots a normal amount. heres my carrd if anyone wants it

• fandoms include ultrakill, rhythm doctor, splatoon, dont starve, bugsnax, rain world, minecraft story mode, megaman/the protomen, sam and max, incredibox, object shows & tf2

• my current username in splatoon is V2! feel free to say hi if we played together:)

• born to ship wxson forced to ship wxwood /j

• i dont tag blood, but i try to tag gore when i remember!

• if you send me a nice ask (e.g "love ur art!") i probably won't answer it, but i promise i'll read it!! (it's nice to see them whenever i open my inbox:) )

tags i use a lot

• #bug.png — art tag

• #bug.mp4 — animation/video edit/etc. tag

• #scrongbongled — i like to yap sometimes

• #soup can? — asks

• #it was a dark and stormy night aboard the revenge — steakhouse (friend group) tag

• #mtms — stands for Make The Metal Sing, tf2 fic (that i update once or twice a year)

• #teehee — posts that make me smile. mostly reblogged ship art

• #ough — posts that make me feel things

• #earthmover/v2/wx mentioned — i am normal about fictional robots

• #giggle — posts i just find funny

other socials/sites

instagram | youtube | ao3 | art fight | toyhouse | last.fm

say hi to steakhouse:)

jpeg | roxy | ghost | sky | the scary spider

[robinrequiems]

hey any1 want some superman jon and batman Damian hcs? too bad cause you’re getting them

• damian realized why no one wanted to be batman when he turned 18 and Bruce decided to give him batman when he was 22.

• jon realized why jon didn’t want to be superman when he also turned 18

• oh and right, by gave, I mean bruce sorta can’t be batman anymore. medical reasons…

• damian sorta uh. persuaded clark into giving jon superman.

Damian: look. I don’t wanna be worlds finest with you, old man.

Clark: im- im not old—

Damian: listen here, jon and i? we are gonna surpass you and my dad. so give it to jon and let me prove it.

Clark: this doesn’t seem like a good idea— you aren’t ready— neither is jon

Damian: wait- wait, you don’t believe in your son and i??? wow. WOOOW. okay. i see.

Clark: that’s not it!-

Damian: sure. sure. don’t worry. I see now.

Clark: wait I do!

Damian: no, no you don’t.. it’s— it’s okay, I get it, it’s me, huh?

Clark: no!

Damian: I get it

Clark: please i do! I’ll - oh my rao, you’re playing me

Damian: i am. i cant do this without jon though. please, Clark.

Clark: *sigh, how did he get manipulated by a kid he used to babysit* okay.

• okay so now jon may be a little overwhelmed because one day he’s flamebird, the next, he’s becoming superman? huH. it’s extremely uh. worrying. and really just? wow.

• does Damian feel bad? oh yeah. he does. so bad. but he really can’t do it alone. they always dreamed of being their parents. or being better than them. but they grew up and realized that they really didn’t want to be their parents.

• but here they were, getting fitted for their suits and adding their own details to it.

jon: hey, you look hot

damian: please. shut up.

• they could do this. they could do this. shoot they can’t do this.

• damians own anxiety was going 50 mph. look, okay? remember before heretic when Bruce thought that Damian would become a satanic batman and basically rain hell all over gotham? yeah. that’s what is going on in damians mind.

• he doesn’t want to be that. ( “you won’t be like that, cmon, d, we’re gonna be better.” ) and how Damian wants to believe jon so bad..

• he doesn’t want to become obsessed with Batman like his father did, he still wants to have a life. he doesn’t want to isolate himself away and adopt kids as a coping mechanism. that’s why he needs jon to be superman. jon helps him, he helps him not go off into his own little world and stay there. he believes that with Jon, he’ll be okay. he has to be. maybe he uses jon as his own coping mechanism, but that isn’t the point.

• together, they will outshine their parents. the supersons can do this. they are the next generation, and it’s not like they are alone. they have so many other people to help them. they’ll be okay.

• they have been preparing for this their whole life, but they both feel like they got it too soon. they thought they had more time. Damian does feel guilty when he hears jon talking about how stressed he is about superman and not living up to whatever the hell he has to live up to, but Damian does fear what would. or could. have happened if he didn’t have jon with him. becoming batman took a lot out of him, more than he would like to admit. he just got constant flashbacks to heretic and that whole fiasco he thought he put behind him a loong time ago.

Jon: are you sure you’re okay?

Damian: yes idiot, quit worrying.

Jon: I’ll always worry about, d.

• jon somehow becomes MORE sappier when he becomes superman.

• okay, also, funny story. ( Clark and Bruce don’t find it funny AT ALL ) superman and batman? yeah they sorta kissed after an almost alien invasion. in their suits. uh. in front of an alien who they were arresting for the green lanterns. most people believe that when people say it, it’s a lie, kidding. no they don’t. there were pictures.

bruce: you want to explain this?

damian: not really, no.

• the public knows there’s a new Batman and Superman since yk. Jon’s face is public and was seen as superboy flamebird and now superman, and batman was slightly smaller and had some different moves

• but here’s their main line up: batman ( dami wamie, obvi ), superman ( jonnyboy kent ), nobody ( maya:)) ), green lantern ( tai pham, my baby boy ), lace ( wallace west 2, he goes by lace instead of flash because i said so. ), and shazam ( billy b ).

• fun fact, they have a den mother even though they are all in their 20s. poor dinah.. yeah black canary is their den mother. ( stole it from from yj )

• dinah makes sure they get their injuries checked out, train regularly, and you know. don’t blow up a building.

• again.

• ( when damian and jon were younger, in their teen years, they stupidly accidentally blowed up a building. in their defense, the building was owned by the penguin. and there were no civilians in the area. but they also got a lot of men sent after them.. oops. )

• they are very chaotic. they are the definition of dumbass energy sometimes.

• damian tries to keep the pda down whenever he’s batman, BUT JON DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

• hence the amount of photos of jon hugging Damian or kissing him

• damian has never once initiated one in suits

• ( that one time jon almost died does not count )

Damian: thought you were gonna be batman.

Tim: nah, i don’t wanna be bruce. i saw what it did to dick. I would’ve became just like him.

Damian: am i like him??

Tim: god no, bruce would never kiss superman or date him or spray paint the new justice league logo— nice logo, by the way— onto villains bases

Damian: is that a good or bad thing?

Tim; good, that means you probably won’t be a total emotional stunted person using crime fighting as an outlet for unresolved childhood trauma.

Damian: you do realize why i became Robin right

Tim: .. not the point im trying to make. I mean now, brat.

• sometimes you can see some of the heroes dropping by to surprise kids, they heard that their old mentors used to go to children’s hospitals to visit sick kids, so they did that too. on a rare day where there isn’t any crime, which is really rare, they go to a school and talk if it’s a weekday, or they drop by an orphanage to hang out with kids.

• they have gotten into a lot of trouble though. they’re still learning how to work as a team. jon and damian are used to being solo and working with each other, Tai had tagged along a few times when they were younger and knows how they work, along with maya, but billy and Wallace do not.

• they often all get into arguments.

• damian lacks a filter and will criticize everyone if they mess up. and he often goes off alone or is too blunt.

• it takes a long time before they all realize that Damian is just: Damian, he doesnt mean to be mean. ( surprisingly )

• billy is used to being the big kid stuck at the kids table, it’s funny that he’s actually the second oldest when he used to be the youngest. ( lace is like.. 27? shazam is 25.. nobody 24. & the supersons 22. pulled all those ages outta my ass. you’re welcome. )

• dinah is also their therapist. poor dinah.

• like really giving pity to dinah. but dinah loves those kids, she has known some since they were kids. she used to take damian out for ice cream and train with him, and also babysit him. ( AUNT DINAH IS MY FAVORITE GOODBYE ). and she did the same with Jon.

• dinah actually does help a lot of them get over their trauma, not completely, but most have finally spoken about it. they began talking after they all got hit with fear gas.

• that was a bad night.

• they had almost disbanded before when they thought lace had died by the hands of captain cold. they had been arguing all day, and if they didn’t, they might’ve saved him:

• but turns out he wasn’t dead.

• but the argument was still there, and it was strong. it took a while for them to actually work together without dinah forcing them.

• then soon came another new member after maya left to go do some undercover mission for the justice league regarding some alien tech being distributed some place. it was a sad goodbye, but she would be back and she would have a place here.

• welcoming: yara flor. yara was a bit headstrong and wild. damian has screamed at her a lot and almost got into a fist fight with her before being dragged off by his boyfriend 💋

• but she settled in fine. minus the fact damian really wanted to shove a batarang up— anyways. she just had to learn teamwork and shit, she was used to being a solo and she was somewhat new. so they helped her out and she became a solid member of the team.

• sometimes damian and jon just go and sit on a rooftop like they did as kids togeyher. just alone with each other. thinking about how their life changed so quickly.

Damian: i thought we’d ruin our fathers’ legacies and plummet to the ground.

Jon: *he coughed* ..what?

Damian: yeah. i didn’t think we’d get this far, but here we are.

Jon: of course we got this far, and we’re gonna get further.

Damian: i know.

• oh yeah. so. superman. fucking proposed after they defeated darkseid. ( the battle was long, so many people were left injured and on the brick of death, Damian and jon had been separated when it all started. Damian had stayed on earth at first before going to apokolips. Damn he hadn’t seen it since he got resurrected.

Darkseid: oh. I remember you.

Damian: mhm?

Darkseid: ah yes, the little boy who was resurrected here.. the chaos share, your father used it on you.

Damian: i know. i remember what happened. I was there afterall.

Darkseid: I wonder if you are as smart as the original batman.

Damian: i am.

• damian was buying time. he was waiting for reinforcements, namely the people who had powers and could take him down. damian wasn’t stupid. he realized darkseid liked to talk. his friends were fighting off the female furys or whatever they were called. he just had to wait and entertain.

Darkseid: quite the ego there.

Damian: i saved the justice league when i was 13, i deserve to have an ego.

Darkseid: oh, you are by far more talkative than the original.

Damian: thanks.

Darkseid: not a compliment, you fool.

• yeah so. darkseid tried to kill damian, with a beam thing. Damian was about to flip away like the baddie he is, but. jon. went out and yk. took the hit. dumbass.

Damian: you have such a big hero complex.

Jon: wow I just saved you and that’s what you say?????

Damian: yes.

• anyways, after they defeat darkseid, jon pops out a ring from his pocket and asks damian to marry him on apokolips.

Damian: you seriously couldn’t wait til we got on earth?

Jon: dames you almost died. what if- what if something happens, I’ve been putting this off for so long. cmon please?

Damian: you’re seriously asking me to marry you here where, I’m pretty sure, a lot of shit happened to our parents here.

Jon: no time like the present.

Damian: fair. okay.

Jon: just okay???

Damian: im sorry, do you want me to cry or something?

Jon: ughh, you can be so extra and petty sometimes.

Damian: i am not being petty.

Jon: just because I ask you to marry me here you wanna be like “okay” and that’s it

Damian: you’re so dramatic. I’ll marry you. I wanna marry you. Better?

Jon: yeah:)

[lemonietrinket]

small displays of affection in domestic life with dream

genre: fluff, bits of bad humour you know me wordcount: 4073 warnings: mentions of very minor sprain in jaemin’s, bickering an: trying to keep the writing flame alight, so im currently not doing anything too heavy, just in case if that puts it out entirely due to stress (it pains me more than it does you, i promise, as all my ideas are always big ones)

gender neutral reader as usual :)

~ all members below the cut ~

mark 

you were washing up in the kitchen, the wind chimes humming quietly outside on the porch. you squinted against the beams of the sun that lazily snuck through the window, as you watched the squirrels squabble on the grass of the front garden. you had to stifle a laugh as the acorn rolled away from the two of them as soon as they tussled too hard. however, your joy was cut short as you moved a plate to the draining board. your sleeve unfortunately had decided to slip, and soon enough it was down to your soap-dappled elbow. glancing around, searching for a towel to maybe dry your hands so you could roll it back up again, you suddenly heard footsteps creaking across the floorboards heading into the dining room and you suddenly had an idea.

“mark?” you called, staring into space as you tilted your head over your shoulder, “mark, baby?”

there was a sudden rush of those same footsteps, and suddenly, the sweet face of your boyfriend poked round the door frame.

“yes, love?” 

those big, wide, searching eyes. you could never get enough of how they caught the light, always made him look so curious of the world. “can you roll my sleeve up for me?” 

he smiles brightly and strides over to you, ever happy to help. folding the material neater than you ever could have done, he pushes it up to your shoulder, before sighing contently. “anything else?”

“no, that’s ok,” you murmured, giving him a coy glance, “you’ve done your duty mr lee.”

he snickered, quickly pressing the chastest kiss imaginable to your cheek. he then seemed to shift his weight to make a getaway, yet remained where he stood. having turned your attention back to the next plate to be washed, it took you a few moments for you to notice. as soon as you did however, you met his gaze, and he appeared in a daze. mesmerised.

“you ok there, mark?”

he paused, barely taking in your teasing grin. “you know i love you, right?”

“of course!”

he merely beams at you, shyness just tinging his cheeks. “you’re so beautiful.”

you scoffed, hands heading straight into the sink. “ew, that’s enough sap for one day.” you scooped up some bubbles and swiftly bopped him on the nose. 

however you must have misjudged the positioning slightly and only ended up making him sneeze.  what could you say, it was a cute sneeze.

“love you too mr lee,” you said through your laughter. 

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renjun

it had bee a long day, the sun finally setting as if it had been waiting for him to make it back home to you, his comfort. when he finally stepped through the door, he met a surprisingly quiet flat, the lights off. confused, he dropped his bag onto the floor carefully by the door and made his way into the living room, just to make sure what he guessed was true. 

and he was right. there you were, dozing on the sofa, legs tucked up and hand thrown over the side. your book was somehow still clutched in your fingers, by some miracle the page not lost. melting into a smile he tiptoed over to you, before kneeling down at your side. 

“there you are, my angel,” he whispers, reaching out to carefully stroke your hair, “i couldn’t wait to see you.”

he clears your face of any stray hears in one graceful movement, pads of his fingers just barely causing you to stir in your sleep. he chuckled at your small pout. “sorry, sorry...”

slipping the book from your hand he placed a bookmark inside and put it on the coffee table behind him, before turning back to you. it wasn’t long before that hand encroached back onto the sofa, joining the other at your chest. renjun, if he could see himself, would never be able to handle how soft you made him. it was fortunate then that he couldn’t, and was free to lean across to the end of the sofa and pull the blanket there up and over your sleeping form.  tucking the hem beneath your chin you curl in on yourself more, your cheek squishing on the cushion. 

unable to stop himself he brought his fingers to your free cheek, tracing your skin with his thumb. “sleep well angel. i’ll get us your favourite takeaway.”

he leant in and planted a kiss into your crown, before getting to his feet and heading back down the hall for his bag and phone.

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jeno

he watched as you practically whirled around the kitchen, measuring sugar at one counter, grating zest at another, procuring another bowl he didn’t remember seeing you take out of the cupboard, let alone use and place it at his side. at first he had been worried since you seemed so all over the place, but by now he was accustomed to it. you were in your element, and even though it appeared hectic, it always produced the best baked confectionery he’d ever tasted. and he soon learnt to just follow your lead. 

to make himself feel more useful he offered to wash up as you went along, and even though it hadn’t quite crossed your mind to mention it yet, you were more than thankful. it made your life so much easier, with more space freed up--even if you had to ask for a spoon back every now and again. he soon learnt to wash those last.

with your music over the stereo, from a playlist you made for him, he couldn’t have been happier on days such as this, even if the rain drummed against the window in a desperate attempt to be allowed to join you. that was when the music dampened and a short ping emanated from the speaker your phone was connected to. 

“bub, do you mind checking that for me?”

you didn’t even look up from your mixing bowl, beating something with a fork. meanwhile he froze, measuring jug and cloth in his hands, brain fumbling over what you meant. his feet meanwhile walked him right over to your phone, lit up with a message.

“it’s from doyoung,” his mouth spoke for him, and it wasn’t until you continued, head still turned away from him, that the realisation came to him.

“oh! what does it say?”

even though it was something seemingly so small, he couldn’t help but revel in the swell of his heart. you trusted him. there was no way he had anything to worry about at all--not that he even had been. it felt like a leap of a milestone, and the glee entered his voice in a stutter. “h-he’s asking about what jaemin likes. he doesn’t know what to get for his birthday.”

“surprised he didn’t ask you for that,” you chuckled, suddenly dumping the beaten mixture into the larger mixing bowl, “tell him he should tag along with hyuck’s present, since it was actually pretty clever.”

picking up your phone carefully he smiled as he noticed your lock screen. it had been a picture of the two of him, he had been aware of that, but now it was a photo of just him, dozing off in the cafe you’d visited last week.

“got it,” he replied through a grin, making a mental note to change his lockscreen later. 

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donghyuck 

“ynnnnn...”

“what.”

“i hate youuuu.”

“you started it?!”

donghyuck whined again and swatted a hand lazily at your arm. you gave him a shove, though underestimated your strength and he reached the edge of the sofa.

“nooo, i’m falling, save meee!”

you took one look at him from where you were sprawled on the couch, and lethargically reached out your arm. though as soon as it was clear that you couldn’t help unless you sat up, you let it thump to the cushions again. “sorry, no can do.”

“but yn...!” you watched him slowly slip over the side with a sly smile.

“that’s what you get for being a pain in the ass.”

“but i love you!”

“and our aircon isn’t working! you’re too hot so i don’t want to even be near you right now, let alone exert all of the little precious energy i have left to drag--”

hyuck’s gradual journey to the carpet came to an end as his shoulder and head propped him up on the floor, his legs still swung over the sofa. “you think i’m hot?” he suddenly poised.

you groaned. “oh, god, hyuck, not--”

he immediately clambered back onto the sofa, only to throw himself at your side.

it was your turn to whine, the summer heat clumping at your skin and now your annoying boyfriend was there too, kicking out more heat like a bonfire, with his head nestled into your neck.

“donghyuck, go awayyy!”

you wrestled him off you again despite his protests, and normally there was no way you would’ve won since he had a habit of playing dirty, but he too was too exhausted to put up a fight, and so let you roll him further down the sofa. 

“you’re the worst partner ever, yn.”

“second worst,” you countered, “you’re 100% number one.”

he scoffed, before the two of you fell into silence, laid uncomfortably across the sofa, waiting for the air conditioning to come back on.

eventually, you got bored. glancing over at your boyfriend, you found him sulking, his arms loosely crossed to let out the heat, and his dazed eyes narrowed into a frown. 

“hyuckie...” you began in singsong.

he huffed.

“hyuckie duckie...” 

another scoff. 

“my cutest duckie hyuckie who i love so very very much--”

“what!”

you grinned as sweetly as you could manage in the face of the overwhelming heat. “can you pass me the tv remote, please.”

he stared you down, lips pursed in dissatisfaction. “no.”

“oh but please...!” you whined, pulling your signature puppy dog eyes. ‘yeah, lets see him dodge that,’ you thought.

and you were right, he couldn’t fight them. with a groan of despair, he sat up. “why are you so cute, yn,” he grumbled, stretching across to the table and grabbing the remote hanging off the edge, “it’s not fair.” slumping back he took a moment to catch his breath, before shimmying across the sofa, back to you. “such a needy princess, huh? always needing help from their handsome prince.”

it was your turn to scoff as you held out your hand to receive the remote. 

however, at the last second, donghyuck suddenly withdrew it. “on one condition!”

you sighed. “what?”

“you cuddle me.”

you opened your arm and let him collapse onto your chest with a contented groan. he held up the remote weakly as if it was taking all of his strength just to hold it for you, and you rolled your eyes, dragging it from his fingers and finally pressing ‘on’.

“i hate you so much,” you said, planting a kiss on his forehead as the room lit up blue from the tv.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

jaemin 

“ow...” 

jaemin turned to you from the other side of your bedroom, sorting out his hoodie and watching your expression closely. “babe?”

“i’m ok!” you answered swiftly, “just... that sprain from yesterday... didn’t ease up overnight.” you cautiously furled and unfurled your arm, wincing when you hit the angle that twinged. 

“are you ok?”

you shrugged, smiling despite your boyfriend’s worry. “i’m ok! i’ve had worse.” you got to your feet, waddling over to your dresser. “we don’t have anywhere to be today right?” you enquired, changing the topic to hopefully alleviate jaemin’s worry. it didn’t work, as even though his face softened he still watched you closely, sleep still hanging in his eyes. he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet.

“nowhere to be,” he replied simply, coming up behind you. he wrapped his arms around you lazily, head resting against yours as he mt your gaze in the mirror. you smiled at him, holding onto his hands loosely. 

“good.” you leant against him for a few moments, letting his warmth seep into your back. however, you suddenly noticed the time. “come on, we should have breakfast before it gets too close to lunch.”

he was reluctant to move though, and only clutched onto you tighter. 

“come on, minnie, gotta brush my hair,” you urged, nudging his head with your own.

he sighed, quickly pressing his lips to your temple, before slipping away to find where he had discarded his slippers the night before. 

you smiled to yourself thinking about his tired little face, the ways his lips were set in a small pout and his cheeks puffy. it made your heart ache, how much you wanted to hold that face in your palms. alas, you needed to get ready.

that was when you encountered your first problem.

as soon as you lifted the hairbrush and reached up, you suddenly felt that twinge of pain and yelped, nearly dropping the brush. 

instantly jaemin was looking at you. “babe, are you sure you’re alright?” 

“y-yeah, i just... forgot...” his hissed as you brought your offending arm back to your side and grimaced as you looked back at your hair. “minnie what do i do. abou..” 

the words had barely left your lips when jaemin had returned to you and eased the brush from your fingers. and soon enough, his were running through your hair gently, followed by the bristles of the hairbrush. he was wordless, focused on his ministrations, making sure he didn’t accidentally tug on a knot.

you watched him through the mirror, feeling your heart melt. “thank you.”

“it’s no problem,” he said, an airy chuckle on his lips, “you’ll be here all dyay otherwise.”

ah, the sleep was starting to leave him. 

before long, your hair was officially not-free, and jaemin had his arms around your waist again, grinning at you in the mirror. “you happy with it?”

you nodded, giggling as he kissed the shell of your ear. 

“good.” and with that he began to shuffle the two of you towards the door, still entangled.

“why do i feel like this is going to result in another sprained arm?” you sighed.

“pssh, don’t be silly, i’ve got you.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃  

chenle 

“yn.”

“yeah?”

chenle looked left, then right. 

“get in.”

“what.”

“get in the trolley, quick!”

you hesitated for a single second before bounding over the metal rigging, narrowly avoiding kicking the kitchen roll at the bottom. you sat up, puffing as your hoodie had become dishevelled with the hood over your face, and your boyfriend merely snickered. “i got you!”

he pulled the cotton away from your face, to reveal his own gazing back at you with his bright eyes, gleaming smile, and light stubble. you couldn’t explain why his natural face seemed to break your heart and sew it back together again in a matter of seconds but it always did, every time you laid your eyes upon it. he was just so gorgeous.

“well what are you waiting for?” you teased. “onward!”

leaping round to the back of the trolley he began to push you down the aisle--way faster than you expected.

“oh my god--lele!”

you careened round the corner and into the bread aisle and chenle merely cackled. “do we need bread?”

“i--? yes?!”

“grab it as we go!”

“are you serious?!”

“that one there! see it?”

he drove you closer so the trolley was hugging the shelving and despite all rational thoughts you hung your hand over the side, and snatched up the bread, depositing it by your feet. 

chenle whooped, before speeding you round the next corner.

“oh my god--chenle!”

he took it wide and you almost bumped into the frozen cabinets but before you knew it you were surrounded by cereals. 

“we need cocoa pops surely...!”

you whipped your head back to look at your boyfriend, too afraid to watch you hurtle through the shop. there you met the glinting eyes of someone who was having way too much fun. you knew it was your first time going grocery shopping together, but still--!

“i’ll get it, don’t worry,” he reassured, though within seconds you found what that involved was in no way reassuring. 

he let go of the trolley, skipping over to the shelving to your right as you screeched his name. the trolley was old, with uneven wheels, like all trolleys, and it meant you were left to roll into a long spin. “jesus--christ--chenle get your ass back here right now!”

and then his hands were back on the handle, you were facing the right way, you had a cereal box in your hands--

and there was a member of staff.

chenle yanked you to a halt with all his might, the speed and the inefficiency of the trolley meaning you very nearly crashed into him, but fortune had it that you came to a halt just inches before.

the two of you sat in silence as you stared up in pure fear of the stern glare of the man before you. 

“excuse me, please exit the trolley,” he ordered, “i’m going to have to ask the two of you to leave.”

panic swept into your system. the next nearest affordable shop was forty five minutes walk away--an hour from home. 

“i’m so sorry, sir, it won’t happen again, sir, please don’t kick us out,” you pleaded, stumbling from the trolley.

“please, we’re really sorry, we didn’t mean to go so fast--”

“you are a danger to the health and safety of everyone in this shop, now please, leave.” despite the fact that he was the first other person you had seen in the shop you didn’t dare mention it: there was no breaking through this man. he was a wall of stone. 

just as you thought all hope was lost however, another person entered the fray: the manager. 

fear switching into utter panic, you clutched onto chenle’s arm, and he to yours. the woman had an even sharper glare, and was twice the size of both of you. 

“we’re not going to get arrested are we?” you whispered.

his eyes widened even further at you. “we can get arrested for that?!”

just as the two of you nearly dissolved into pure fear, the manager spoke up. “oh let them alone samuel, there was no harm done.

the man turned to her in shock. “but--ma’am, the shop policy--”

“i am well aware of the shop policy--enough to know that what you do in the storeroom with miss lee is also against shop policy.”

it was if the man’s voice evaporated into the air. she turned to the two of you then. her hardened glare softened when she laid eyes on you, arms folding laxly. “you kids don’t have to leave,” she explained, “just don’t do i again.”

the relief washed over the two of you like a waterfall.

“thank you so much ma’am!”

“it won’t happen again!”

she stepped aside to let the two of you through, an opportunity you took gladly. she chuckled once you were out of sight. “ahh... it’s not every day you see young love as vivid as that, samuel.”

the man in question seemed offended. “but... you know about me and--”

“hanging around in a dingy storeroom is the furthest from romantic, samuel, ask her out to the 50s diner in the city already.” 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

jisung

you couldn’t contain your excitement. it had been so long since your last date night, nto that it was anybody’s fault, but at long last you could show off your new outfit that you’d bought especially when jisung had told you he’d managed to book at the semi-prestigious restaurant in town. you never really got dressed up, and always went on calm and relaxed dates--walks in the park, drinks and chocolate at the cafe, midnight snack runs to the corner store--but you’d always said you wanted to try being fancy, at least once. 

and so there you were, your hair styled, earrings adorned, and the finishing touch, the necklace you had received from your partner on your birthday. it’s silver and simple, a small shimmering knot at the end of chain, but it meant th world to you. you couldn’t help but associate your relationship with those entwined threads. maybe those threads represented your destiny, or your choices, or merely the strength that you had together--you weren’t sure and nor did you mind really what it was. but you kept it safe at all times.

the problem was, all your excitement was jumbling up your nerves, leaving you fiddling with the clasp longer than you saw fit to admit to. with your arms aching and a huff falling from your lips, you relented and held it at arm’s length. it wasn’t going to ruin your outfit to not wear it, but you really did want to.

to your luck however, in that moment you were no longer alone.

“hey, yn, you alright?” jisung asked from outside the door. he’d obviously heard your small sounds of mild distress.

“yeah, i’m fine!”

he poked his surprisingly broad shoulders through the gap in the door then, mouth opened to speak, only for no sound to come out. you attempted to wrestle with the clasp once again for a good minute before giving up for the second time. “i can’t get it on,” you announced sadly, glancing over to your boyfriend.

he was still staring at you, wordless, and it wasn’t until you looked over to him properly that you understood why, falling into the same state. 

he looked gorgeous in his blazer jacket and tie, things you didn’t even know he had. it made him look so different, so confident, and yet his smile was still tinged with shyness like the jisung you knew and adored.

“you look beautiful,” he finally managed, barely blinking and still mesmerised by your eyes alone. 

“thank you,” you said quietly, a smile of your own forming on your lips. “so do you.”

he blushed. “d-do you want some help?”

it took you a few seconds to work out what he meant. “oh, yes please! thank you.”

he sidled over to you and accepted the necklace so cautiously, as if he thought it might break. coming to stand behind you, he let the metal rest gently at your neck, before working the clasp and chain together.

he too struggled with it, but you barely noticed the time pass, to busy focusing on how the pads of his fingertips felt when they brushed the sensitive skin of your neck once or twice. you couldn’t meet your own stare in the mirror, well aware of your own reddened cheeks.

soon the necklace came together and jisung straightened, hands coming to rest neatly on your shoulders as he looked over at you in the mirror. the two of you smiled at one another in your reflections, before you turned to take him in in the flesh. 

“why haven’t we done this sooner?” you murmured, stroking a loose strand of his gelled hair back to his fringe, only for it to fall forward again. you smiled anyway, letting your fingers trace across his cheek instead. 

“i don’t know,” he said, “but i’m glad you suggested it.” he took your hand slowly into his and moved it from his cheek to his lips where he placed a kiss to your fingers chastely. “come on, we wouldn’t want to be late.”

just when you thought you couldn’t be more wordless than how he left you when you just looked at him. 

~~~

an: i feel like maybe jaemin’s is inaccurate, as i couldnt tell if he would be hyper or not in the mornings, but i figured if hes anything like the people i know, its that hes not going to be super bouncy in the morning without his shot of caffeine. i thought this type of sleepy jaemin was cute ok.

i tried my best, my writing mojo is constantly running away so i hope this is worth it !

please leave comments, they mean the world to me and remind me that i have things to do and places to be!

[unedited]

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

masterlist

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[j45uk3]

제이 - [HERO-VILLAIN]

genre :: angst??

characters :: park jay x gender-neutral 

                       park sunghoon (minor part)

wc :: 1564

summary :: a typical hero villain story. 

warnings :: mention of blood(anything related to that), fighting, wounds, guns,

others :: inspired by those tiktok povs where the hero gives in bla bla :)

“just kill me already” i said out loud as i lay on the wet hard street weak and giving up,  as multiple raindrops hit my skin leaving my eyesight blurry. my head was banging, too much. the multiple hits he made on my stomach, the times he shot me on my torso leading blood to flow from the wound, made it even harder for me to conceal the pain. 

so i just simply gave up.

“what?” he stopped as his bat hung mid-air ready to strike me. 

“I SAID KILL ME ALREADY” i screamed with all my might, exhausted. all of the pressure made too much impact on my mindset and nothing seemed to make me stand tall anymore. not even the thought of saving all the people in seoul seemed to keep me going. 

nothing was heard of him as the silent raindrops made everything else calming, making it easier for me to just die peacefully. a thud was heard on my side, i was met with a crawling, drenched in rain jay. 

the villain of this story.

“n-no, you can’t just g-give up like this...” he managed a whisper. 

“yes, yes i fvcking could.” i deadpanned. choking on my own tears, i continued 

“i mean, don’t you want that? i’m finally dead and you can destroy this whole city- probably even the whole country if you want. your whole family would be proud of you and YOU could get all the money you want in the world-”

“NO. SHUT THE HELL UP.” 

jay. 

jay and i went through a lot of battles together. we’ve been through all sorts of circumstances where it was always, always, me winning. as funny as it may sound, we even had one time where we fought in the sewers - it was an incredible memory since i found out jay’s weaknesses were scary ghost sounds and i had to escort him out since he was shaking too much, too frightened to even move. 

does it sound weird if i say i probably spent more time with jay than with my own family my whole life? his great-grandpa started their tradition of wanting to destroy Seoul and my great-grandma was always the hero. for all the past years, it was always my family that ended up winning.

but jay’s family didn’t even lose a hint of hope.

which lead to me and jay becoming the enemies.

but it was different this time. every time jay suddenly showed up in the most unexpected circumstances - adrenaline seemed to pump in my veins whenever a fight was going to happen between me and him. it was always the same thing, i escort everyone out as fast as i can and he tries to just simply destroy the exits.

probably hold hostages but,

he was too kind for that. 

jay was different from his ‘ancestors’. he had a lot more mercy and he didn’t actually hurt people. the only person he aims to hurt is..well, me. it was always a fun competition between us. 

we fought in a restaurant? we end up having a food fight. we fight in a playground? we even play tag sometimes, but..more dangerous. in a school? we do the students a favor and destroy their test papers. 

it wasn’t even a decent hero-villain cliché anymore, it was more like..a fun game between a “so-called-hero” and a “so-called-villain”.

that is until, my grandma decided to change everything about that history me and jay went through. using the ‘family tradition’ as an excuse for me to do my job seriously. “if people find out you’ve been acting this way, would you think the people of Seoul would be PROUD of you?”

and that simple sentence ruined every memory i had with him. 

i started to actually take the job seriously and jay seemed to notice that too. the fights actually end up to one of us bleeding and there was no such thing as ‘fun’ in our ‘fights’ anymore. 

until today, the day i finally couldn’t take anything anymore. the absolute pressure of the expectations not only my grandma but the whole Seoul had of me, the wounds and sleepless nights i had to go through to keep ‘my people’ safe - safe from..my best friend. 

“YOU CAN’T GIVE UP ON ME LIKE THIS Y/N...” he screamed back as his bloody hands combed his damp hair back, revealing his red eyes. 

“I-I’M INCOMPLETE...w-without...you..” he finished as ‘diamonds’ seemed to gather on his eyes. realizing, i softly scoffed and said something - merely above a whisper.

“you’re crying? what kind of villain cries so easily for their enemy-”

“i do. i’m that kind of villain..WHY? you have a problem with that?-”

i cut him off, “woah,woah there little guy, getting so worked up?” i questioned, quite taken aback by the sudden emotion. 

“of course! you just decide to give up - not only on the whole seoul but your own life? you THINK i would allow that?” he snapped. 

“i mean yeah, after all these years of fighting and trying, you’re family finally won. YOU finally won.” i smiled to myself imagining the happy smiles jay’s family would paint onto their faces knowing one person in my family was defeated. 

but jay didn’t budge a single muscle. 

as the rain poured, we were both left alone there frozen. my eyes started to close by itself as my body gave in to the blinding light i saw in the sky. i was finally in peace. my hand travelled to jay’s trembling ones as i softly caressed them. whispering a ‘congratulations’ loud enough for him to hear.

“no, i’m not letting you go like this.” swatting my hand of his, he stood up and walked going somewhere. as he came back i heard a click, a gun. he grabbed my hand and my hand molded as he purposely made my fingers go through the trigger. bringing my hand along with the gun he pointed it somewhere. opening my eyes, i fought back jay’s tight grip as i was completely surprised to where he pointed it at.

“now’s your chance y/n, i’m giving in.” he softly said, as he tightly gripped the gun, now pointing to his blood-stained forehead. 

“jay- no, let me die please. JUST LET ME DIE” shouting with all my might, fighting back trying to pull my fragile arm away from the gun. 

but he was just too strong. 

“jay, please. you deserve to live...you have such a h-happy family while mine...mine’s just full of people with high expectations, i-i can’t live like this anymore..” i weakly said, looking dead straight into his eyes. “y-you’re a nice guy ok? you’re stronger than me, and i-im not worthy to be your opponent.” i cried out as i completely let go of my body now, as i stayed there kneeling in front of jay - a broken mess.

if you thought nothing worse could happen, 

then you’re wrong. 

police sirens started to come louder and louder as we saw a group of cars on the other end of the road. 

“y/n NOW.” he desperately said. “let me have my last moments with you...” he continued. using his other hand, a soft object seemed to land on my wet face. i looked forward and saw jay’s hands caressing my face. he opened his mouth saying

“i don’t know if it’s that noticeable but...i like you y/n..i love you actually” he managed a laugh as he wiped the tears on my face at the same time. “i love you too much i would die for you..

you’re the only reason i’m jay right now.” 

the cars were half-way to us, as i heard my brother park sunghoon’s voice on the mega-phone. 

“i don’t even know how to explain it, you made me feel like i’m worth something. and i’m so satisfied with it. but you? i don’t know if i made you feel loved..because all we do is fight. and...i hated that.” tears started to fall from his face and my eyes widened. 

“i don’t know what happened to you but, i hope...you like me too.” he managed to say.

‘WE NEED BACK-UP! BACK-UP” sunghoon’s voice boomed through the mega-phones signaling that they were almost near. 

“i-i do...i love..you”

“great.” he replied and out of nowhere the hand that was caressing my face travelled to the nape of my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. my first kiss with the villain of this story under the rain..who would’ve known? i closed my eyes, feeling every single second. i kissed him back.

we both stayed like that for a few seconds until, jay pulled away from the short kiss.

the police cars came, and all the officers ran out of their cars. 

“goodbye jay” i whispered into his ear and i twisted the gun onto my forehead pulling the trigger.

“Y/N!” were the last things i heard as my eyesight when black.

as your body thumped on the road, Jay threw the gun away and crawled to your figure. “NO, NO, NO. Y/N- Y/N” his hands travelled to your frozen body as he desperately shook you. blood was everywhere and from then on we all already knew..

you were dead

“Y/N” he screamed on last time and cried on you dead body. “sh!t...” he cursed. a hand travelled to his back, park sunghoon. “Y-Y/N?” he weakly said. tears came out from your brother’s eyes as the two men, 

no..

as the whole seoul mourned the death of the hero.

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART TEN

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | PART NINE Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 3657 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, mentions of death. A/N: Woop, woop! We’ve hit the milestone of ten parts – but the fun is not over yet. I love this part. I mean, I love it so much. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had writing a part since the early parts that followed the storyline of TROS. I hope you’ll all enjoy it just as much, especially because I know that you guys have been looking forward for them to head to Arkanis ever since I mentioned it forever ago. Thank you for all the love so far, so excited for what you’ll think of this one and beyond! Read it on Ao3 here.

The rain, Armitage notices, smells different on Arkanis. It’s cooler, much more fresh, crisper and nicer. But overall, the planet doesn’t smell like he expected it to smell, it doesn’t smell like home, it doesn’t smell like forgotten memories. It doesn’t look like he expected it to look.

It’s raining when the two of you settle the ship down on the ground, as he expected it would be. He’s used to rain after living on Ajan Kloss for a month. This rain, it’s something different. Where Ajan Kloss is humid rain, Arkanis is cold rain. The moment he steps out of the ship with you by his side, the chill air causes goosebumps to arise on his arms.

“This is… not what I was expecting,” Armitage speaks as he looks at the rain falling around him. He’s still under the cover of the ship, but some of the spray still wets his arms and the bottom of his trousers.

“What were you expecting?”

“Not this. I didn’t expect this much rain. Rain, yes, but not this much of it. That sounds rather silly now that I say it, but I’m hoping you know what I mean. I just mean it’s nothing like how I remembered it,” he admits, looking out at the city around him. “This place I’m standing now, the things I’m looking at, I feel like I should remember them. I feel like I should have a connection with this place, but instead I’m looking at it now, and I don’t.”

You cross your arms as you look out at the planet you called home. It does look different, just like Rey had said it would be. You didn’t realise it had been this long since you’d been home. And really, could you even call it your home anymore?

“We’ve only just touched down. There’s plenty of time to start remembering things, or to not remember things at all,” you nudge him.

Arkanis reminds you a little of Kef Bir – only because of the overcast sky and the sound of water, but rain here instead of the ocean. And this time, you’re here with Armitage by your side too. It’s a nice sort of full circle.

“Come on, let’s get going. It took longer than I’d have liked for us to get here and I want to get started as soon as possible.” You step off the ship and out into the rain, narrowly avoiding a muddy puddle to your right. “And I want to see what you remember, or what you don’t.”

You flash him a grin, and Armitage lets out a breathy laugh in reply as he follows you off the ship. The ramp closes behind you, and he follows your lead away from it and down the hill towards the city.

Into the city he once called home.

–

It’s nearly midday when the two of you finally make it into the city. It’s not busy outside, which you blame on the constant rainfall that hasn’t let up since you arrived. It’s one of the only things that you remember as being the same – the rain. When the two of you find a small bar after a few minutes of wandering, that is where you find probably all of the inhabitants of the city.

You’ve never been in here before – and for good reason. You were too young and too preoccupied with flying, and then you’d left Arkanis and thought it would be for good. It feels a little bittersweet, being back.

“What’s our plan, then?” Armitage asks you as you walk towards the bar to order.

“Well, have a drink, settle ourselves, get some energy back from the early start, and then we just start a conversation. Tell them who we are, why we’re here in Arkanis, start talking. It all depends on whether they’re willing to open up to us and let us help them if they need it.”

Arkanis hadn’t been hit so hard by the First Order. It was relatively out of the way, settled firmly in the Outer Rim, and the New Republic had held a firm grip on it for as long as it could. It still remained a wealthy planet because of it, but by the looks of it now, things had changed a little. Things had been changing when you’d left, but you hadn’t noticed them. You’d been too focused on the future ahead of you.

But the First Order had reigned terror over every planet, no matter how strong.

You slide into a seat by the bar and Armitage joins you.

There are people staring at him. He notices.

“What’ll you have?” A woman stares at the two of you from across the bar.

You hesitate. “Uh– two– two moof juices? Please.”

She nods, and then disappears off to get them for the both of you.

Armitage clears his throat. “Everybody in here is staring at us.” He speaks, leaning in close so that only you can hear him. “I think some of them know who I am. Perhaps I should go back and wait in the ship.”

“No, you’re just as important here as I am. We do this together.” You assure him.

His suspicions are confirmed only a few moments later as someone taps him rather harshly on the shoulder, and instinctively, he turns around to look at him.

It’s a large man – taller than him, and bigger in size and frame, too, and Armitage nearly balks at the sight of him. He can’t at all be entirely human. He narrows his eyes as he looks at Armitage’s face, and then turns around and looks at a group of other men and women sitting on a table by the door.

“It is ‘im an’ all, knew it from the secon’ I saw ‘im,” he shakes his head. “You, you’re First Order. Thought the lot o’ you went down in that big fight. How come you made it ou’ alive then, eh? How come you’re posin’ as Resistance?”

Armitage stumbles over his words, and it’s exactly what the man wants.

“You both First Order, then?” His gaze switches to you. “Both posin’ as Resistance, both tryin’ to hide from the rest of the world now that you’ve lost everythin’? ‘Bout time, in my opinion. You ain’t got no place here on Arkanis. Get outta here, both o’ you.”

You shake your head and go to stand. “No, we’re not First Order. He was, but he’s now on our side – he helped us win. We’re here to help with the recovery. To talk and help you find normality again in any way we can.”

The man snorts. “‘Ere to ‘elp with the recovery? Yeah, bollocks.”

“No, really, sir–“

Armitage makes the mistake to stand in a paltry attempt to defend you as the other man takes a step towards you. He regrets his decision just before he lands firmly in a rather deep puddle of water outside the bar, his knees, legs and arms soaked. He groans as the impact takes full force.

You land somewhere beside him, equally soaked, and turn to stare up at the sky – the rain has eased off a little, not much, but a little. And you’re soaked from the puddle anyway, so what does it matter?

“That… did not go as planned.”

He pushes himself to his feet. “I apologise. That was my fault.”

It was a bad idea for him to join you on this trip to Arkanis, even though it had been your idea that the both of you go there together anyway. He’d thought he’d made a good choice in tagging along… but now he just feels shame.

Shame that you are here to help, and he is here to hinder.

He holds a hand out toward you. You take it and accept the help to stand.

“It is not your fault. They’d probably be weary of me if it were just me, anyway,” you shake your head, and then look down at your water soaked shoes. “I have an idea for what we can do instead. At least until some of the locals agree to cooperate.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Change out of these wet clothes?”

“Well, yes. But after that, I’m going to take you on a small tour. Where we hopefully won’t have to run into any locals and get thrown in puddles again. But we might end up accidentally stepping in some anyway.”

He’s confused. “Care to tell me where you’re taking me?”

You meet his eyes and smile. “I’m going to take you to where I grew up.”

–

As soon as you’re out of your wet clothes and dry – or as dry as you can be on a rainy planet – you both leave the confines of the ship again and, instead of heading off down towards the main city, you lead Armitage away from it towards a large, dreary looking forest.

He’s intrigued by your promise – you taking him to where you grew up. It had been the last thing he expected, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested about your life here on Arkanis. He’d been gone by the time you were born, since he’d left when he was five, but you’d been here longer than he had been. And he had noticed that you talked about it less. That you skirted around things and thought he didn’t notice.

He does. He notices everything.

Most of all, he notices that you never talk about specifics. You never said why you left Arkanis to join the New Republic Defense Fleet. You never said why you started to learn how to fly or what you did in your spare time while you learnt.

Armitage Hux knows a lot about you, but there were things he doesn’t. Things he wants to know. It works both ways – there are things about him that you don’t know. But they’re the same things he doesn’t know if he wants you to know.

He walks a little behind you as you lead him away from the city and into the forest. The brush above you stops the rain a little, though the ground is still wet and a little muddy and he’s hoping his shoes won’t get stuck.

It feels like you’ve both been walking for hours, and he truly believes that you might have been, when he sees something up ahead.

The place… it looks like a house. But it also doesn’t resemble one at all. It’s round, but one side of it is crumbled to the ground, entirely destroyed, and the other half looks like it’s never been touched. And it’s small – smaller than he’d expected.

“Is this…?”

You nod as you stop in front of it. “This was home. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Armitage stops beside you, crosses his arms over his chest, looks up at the destroyed house. Where he’d lived on Arkanis, he didn’t know. And it wasn’t like there was anyone he could ask. But he’d expected your home to be… intact. You’ve never said otherwise.

“I know, it’s a bit of a mess,” you smile sheepishly up at him. “But after it was destroyed, I moved away. I got a small room in the city which was closer to where I was being taught to fly. I didn’t have the nerve or the funds to fix it, so I left it.”

He stares at you for a moment, confused. “What about your family?”

“They’re dead – my parents. They died.” You speak simply, and then you feel the need to tell him how and why. And it’s strange – because you’ve never really told anyone, only Poe and Leia, but you’re here with Armitage, and he is the first person seeing the remnants of what your life on Arkanis had been, and you feel like you owe it to yourself to be honest. “When the New Republic took hold of Arkanis, things were fine for a few years. But as time went on, there were some Imperial loyalists still here, floating around, causing trouble when nobody was watching. I was sixteen, and my parents had stood up for someone at the market. Someone who these Imperial loyalists were targeting for their belief in the New Republic. And then, later that night, when I was out flying with my instructor, those same loyalists came here… and did this.”

Armitage feels like his heart is in his throat.

“They did– they did this?”

“Yes.”

He’s never wanted to hug anybody more than you right now. But you’re pretending like everything didn’t happen moments after telling him everything he didn’t know he wanted to know. You’re turning away from the house and taking a deep breath and thanking him for listening. And he can’t bring himself to do it like you would. All he can think about is how grateful he is. How grateful he is that you opened up to him. That he is the first and only person to see the place first hand.

And then things fall back to normal just as rain starts to seep through the leaves above you once more. You’ve forgotten almost entirely about the words you’d spoken, the truth you’d let him into, and you’re back to thinking about your mission.

“I don’t think we’re going to get anymore out of these people today,” you say, looking back towards the city even though all you can see is trees. “We should try again tomorrow. We might have more luck then.”

Armitage, not for the first time, decides not to push.

–

You sit your empty container from dinner down on the grass beside you and lean back against the ramp of the ship. Arkanis looks beautiful out in front of you. The rain has fallen back to a light drizzle, and in the distance you can see the lights of the city, shining brightly. It makes you smile. You can remember seeing that view from your room years ago. It’s different now, but it still carries the same sense of comfort as it always did.

“It’s beautiful here,” you hum.

After the day you’ve had, you’re happy to just have a moment to breathe and feel calm for a second. Even though Arkanis is your home, you’d felt a little out of place all day, and this is the first place you feel like it’s home again… in some way, anyway.

Armitage isn’t looking at the city when he agrees with you.

He’s looking at you.

But then you glance over at him and he tears his eyes away and finally settles them on the lights in the distance. You weren’t going to venture into it again tonight, and your plan of finding a bed in the city was pretty much destroyed by your being thrown out of the bar earlier in the day, and so the ship remained your base.

“So, tell me – what do you remember about this place? Have you remembered anything during our day here?

“Not as much as I would have liked to.”

He looks off into the distance. He remembers that ridge in the mountains, he used to be able to see it from his bedroom window, but from where he sits right now, that’s all he can remember. It’s a little disheartening.

“Well… I used to fly over those mountains,” you start to explain. “When I was just learning, the woman who taught me would challenge me to fly up, out and around them all and be back within a set amount of time. I used to ace it.”

Armitage’s lips quirk up. “I somehow don’t doubt that at all.”

“I’m an incredible pilot, you’ve witnessed it first hand. But I’m not going to go into detail about the time that I nearly crashed an X-wing between those mountains over there.” You point over to the left and Armitage looks at where you point.

“Mmm, probably better to keep my good opinion of you.”

“Oh, there are things I could tell you about me growing up here… I’ll save it, though.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Save it for when?”

“For when we come back.”

Your words take him off guard. “We’re coming back?”

“Uh-huh.” You’re nodding excitedly. “I mean, the locals might not like us very much. But this is home, right? Well, one of them. Whenever we win over the locals, they’ll beg to have us back. And we’ll have to choice but to come back and grace them with our presence.”

He snorts. “I don’t think anyone could say I grace their presence.”

You shrug a shoulder. “You’ve graced mine.”

He nearly chokes on air itself.

He should say something. He can’t think of anything worthy. So, he stays silent. Stares down at the ground in front of him and fiddles with the edges of his own empty container. And he can feel you looking at him, but he can’t bring himself to look up at you. He’s worried about what you’ll see if he does.

And then, you break the silence – by thankfully changing the subject.

“Arkanis, then. Would you live here again? Work here? Find a life here?”

He chooses to stare out at the city as he answers.

“If you’d asked me that when we first got here, I would have said yes. But now, I’m not sure if I could. I think I would be better finding a planet I’ve never been to before. A planet that the First Order never even thought of touching. And then settling myself there in silence.” He pauses. “A place where nobody looks at me like the people here did this morning.”

His words break your heart a little. But you know where he’s coming from – you’d seen those looks in the eyes of the people in the bar. Half of them had been directed at you, and the Resistance uniforms hadn’t saved you from them – hadn’t saved Armitage from them. Still, they found him. Still, those eyes tore down the walls he’d been building up for the past month to cover the First Order part of him.

You can already see him starting to rebuild them.

“You have Ajan Kloss for as long as you want it. You know that, right?”

He nods. Once.

You take that as your cue to slowly shuffle over closer to him, so you’re sitting right beside him. You nudge him with your elbow, and finally he looks at you again.

There’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not going to be like this forever. The strange looks, the judgemental people. It’s just like this for now. And soon enough, things will change and the First Order will just be a bad memory. And you’ll be free to live the life you want to without fear of others judging you for it.”

Armitage looks down at you, looks into your eyes, and his lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles, but you still see it. And your words – they’re words that he wanted to hear, but words he didn’t know he wanted to hear. It’s like they’ve travelled straight to his heart and hit home.

Because a different Armitage wouldn’t have believed in them. But him – this Armitage, the one he is now, the one he’s happy to be, does. He believes them. He has to. He has to believe that the First Order is soon going to be nothing but a bad memory. He has to believe that there will soon be better. That better will come.

You smile sweetly up at him then, and his breath catches in his throat.

He’s looking at you… and you’re looking at him, and something travels between you both in that small moment. And then, Armitage starts to lean in – instinctively. He’s never done this before. He’s never felt a feeling like this before… but he hopes he’s doing the right thing… not overstepping. He wonders if he should ask. He wonders if that would ruin the moment. But no– he should ask. He’s going to ask– and then he notices that you’re doing the same as he is. And–

Something thumps on the grass a few feet away from you, and he jumps. His eyes flicker between you and the source of the noise, and the moment is gone just as quickly as it came. His chance disappears before he even realises it’s gone.

A woman pulls herself up from the grass where she’s just fallen. She looks over at the both of you a little sheepishly. “It’s muddy there– watch your feet if you walk there.”

You glance at her, and then back at Armitage– and your mind whirs with the possibility of what was just about to happen. And… of course there was an interruption.

“I was in the bar this morning,” the woman continues, “and I heard what you were talking about. I didn’t want to say anything then, but I saw you two leaving the market earlier and coming this way. And I wanted to talk to you, so I followed you… I know, that sounds creepy, but I don’t mean it that way. I just… I lost my parents to the First Order… and I don’t know how to resume normal life knowing that the First Order is gone… and I just wondered if you could help.”

And then you’re springing into action.

Armitage watches wordlessly as you stand up and wander over to her, and as you start to talk to her about her inquiry. His eyebrows furrow a little as he stares. As he thinks about what he was about to do. About why he was about to do it. About why he was about to do something he’s never done before in his life.

And he knows. He knows why. He knows why, and it terrifies him.

He’ll have to do something about that.

–

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[marvinswriting]

Air Pressure

Prompt: Janis and Damian hurt/comfort bc sometimes Janis feels sad for no reason😳😳😳 We said A N G S T 😳 (except I also added nice Regina bc it's my fic and I can do what I want.)

It's just one of those days where everything hits hard I guess. 

I saw a post somewhere that said if there was no air pressure, rain would fall all at once in a thick sheet of water and kill us.

I don't know how accurate that is, but it's pretty representative of how my day is going.

Instead of getting hit with negative sparingly throughout the day with positive things to regulate it, there is no positive, and my emotions just hit me like a wall. 

Which is fucking great when you're sitting in English class.

The perfect time to just, break down is while you learn about The Raven, I guess.

I raise my hand to ask to leave the room, earning a sharp glare from my teacher when he has to stop reading to pick on me.

"May I go to the bathroom?" I ask, my voice wavering. 

He must pick up on it because he just nods.

I scoop up my bag and run out of the room. Its the first of my three tiny periods in a row and then I have a class with just Damian before I can go home. That's four periods to long.

I make my way into the school's tiny bathroom and pull myself into the back stall. I cover my mouth to muffle a sob, I don't really know why I'm crying, but the overwhelming sinking feeling in my chest won't disappear. 

I hear high heels clicking as they walk into the bathroom. "Janis? I saw you run in here."

I guess dying for 15 seconds really does change a person because Regina had been working hard to be my friend again. I don't know if we're 'watching each other have breakdowns' close yet. 

"I know you're here Jan. You can't hide from me." 

Well, that's mildly threatening. 

I freeze as footsteps approach the stall I'm in. 

Regina knocks on the door but it just slowly swings open, revealing me sitting next to the toilet, curled up.

Stupid broken locks.

"Oh, Janis." Regina crouched down next to me. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing specific, just sad, I guess."

Regina nods. "I know the feeling. And that's okay." She looks like she has more to say, but doesn't.

She simply steps into the stall with me and slides down the wall opposite of me.

This feels like the start of a bad porno.

We sit in silence for a bit and I have to admit, Regina's presence is actually really comforting. 

I try to slow the tears since somebody else is here, but Regina doesn't comment. She simply reaches across the small space between us and rests her hand on my knee comfortingly.

I give a teary-eyed smile at the action.

"Thanks." I say softly, "but you need to get back to class."

"I do," Regina agrees. "But I'm not leaving you to have a breakdown alone in the bathroom." She pauses for a moment, as if considering something. "Pass me your phone."

"What?"

"Today clearly isn't your day, you're not doing too hot and shouldn't be left alone, but, you're right- I gotta go to class. Let me text Damian."

"I'm not dragging him out of class because I can't get my emotions in check." I say glumly.

Regina tsks and grabs my bag, pulling my phone out despite my protests.

"Really, Janis? Same password since middle school?"

"I don't normally have people trying to go through my phone," I say, but I don't have the energy to fight Regina about texting Damian. "He's trying to get an education, yknow. Don't bother him." I say, but trying the change Regina Geroge's mind is futile. 

"I may not know Damian personally  but he seems like the type of person who wants to know when his friends are hurting." Regina says typing away on my phone. 

I hear it ding instantly and I wipe my eyes. 

Regina place my phone back in my bag, seemingly happy with whatever response she got before standing up and holding out her arm as an offer to help me up.

I take it.

"Let's go. Regina says pulling me up.

"Where?" I glance down at our hands, she didn't let go, instead, she opted to dragging me down the hall.

"To meet Damian, duh."

The closer we get to tiny pick up zone the more my stomach twists. 

I frown, now he's gonna worry about me and not go to class and that's my fault and-

"Hey, Janis." Regina stops suddenly. "If you don't want to see Damian we don't have to, I'm sorry I texted him."

What? Oh. I'm crying again.

"No, its- I'm fine. I just-"

"You don't have to explain yourself." Regina pulls me into a hug. It's tense, we really aren't at the whole helping each other emotionally part. But its also my first real hug from another tiny in a while. 

So I'll take it.

It feels nice, being able to return as much as I receive in a hug. 

My face just feels permanently wet today, it really is one of those days.

Like everything is getting triggered by period hormones minus the cramps and blood. 

We continue our walk to where the giant hall meets the tiny hall and see Damian already there.

"Hey, Damian," Regina says, passing me my backpack.

I wave to him, and the second Damian registers the tears on my face, I'm being scooped up and held to his chest without a word.

"Thanks, Regina." He says.

I grip onto his shirt, willing the tears not so spillover.

"Of course, Damian. I know Karen or Gretchen would want somebody to do it for me."

I'm to busy with my face is Damian's shirt and my eyes squeezed shut to see Regina walk away, but just as I heard her coming, I can hear the clicking of her heels grow distant. 

Damian doesn't pull me away, he just holds me there for a bit, not saying anything.

I can feel him rocking on his heels a bit, and if its a method of soothing me- it's working. 

After a while, I think I stop crying. Keyword is think. My whole face is still damp but I let go of his shirt and push away a bit. Damian takes the hint and pulls his hands back, letting me fall into his palms.

"What's got you worked up?" He asks. His eyes are swimming with concern and guilt hits me hard.

If I could just be a bit better at dealing with my shit Damian would be learning in class as students should. 

"I don't-" I take a breath. "I don't know."

Damian nods. "That's okay." 

I nod. Its something Regina had said earlier and something I had heard many times before. But hearing it from Damian felt like the most reassuring thing in the world.

I try not to sniffle. "You have a class to go back to. You can put me down."

Damian shook his head. "Hon, the bell is gonna ring any second, we've been standing here for a while. And I'm not letting you go back to class when you're clearly tired and not in a great mental space."

The bell is gonna ring?

Wow.

"You can't skip class, Damian," I say, standing up on his palms. 

"I won't be the one skipping."

"Huh?"

Oh.

Before I can even protest, Im boing shifted into one hand, Damian already using the other to clip the white pin on his jacket.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna be annoying or get in your way or anything. You already do so much for me and I just don't wanna be a bother, its just one bad day I can hide in the bathroom again I’ll be fine-" Before I know it, words are just tumbling out of my mouth. "Cuz like, I'm tiny and I can't do anything myself and I don't want to be a nuisance or-"

"Janis."

"Yeah?"

"You're not annoying or a nuisance or getting in the way."

"Okay." I say softly, looking down.

Damian chuckles. "I like having you in my pockets. It's a reassurance that you're safe."

I feel my face flush under the love and care. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

The bell rings and Damian pulls me close to his chest as student file out of classrooms.

Its the hallway so there's no need to hide me yet, but it's dangerous as always. I press my back against Damian's chest as I watch students pass us. Some notice me, others don't. Most could care less. 

I watch Shane Omen pass with Aaron on his shoulder. Aaron is gripping onto Shane's shirt as tight as possible, and it brings me a small bit of reassurance to know I'm not the only tiny with hallway anxiety.

Damian makes it to his classroom and wordlessly slips me into his pocket. He taps the pocket lightly, which I’ll never understand why he does it, and goes on with his education as he normally would. 

Skipping three classes is gonna be a bitch to explain to my parents, but I would rather explain this to them then go to class crying.

Damian's heart beats steadily to my right as I hear his teacher begin talking.

Yeah, there are bad days where it feels like the sheet of rain is slamming into me, killing me on the spot, but I'll always have Damian to be my air pressure to regulate the droplets.

Its a common thing in my fics, but don't skip class bbys, learning is essential

tag list: @musicallygt @sourishlemons @smallsoysauce @realmisspolarbear

[musicnoots]

Hold Me Tighter

Babe Heffron/Reader

Requested by anon: “Hey! If your requests are still open, would it be ok to request some good ol babe fluff? I’m having the worst time at uni right now and could really use some babe cuteness to cheer up”

A/N: Major sleepy Babe fluff. Hope you feel better anon <3

Synopsis: A sleepless night in the Ardennes leaves Babe restless and curious when he asks you a tricky question.

Tags: @gottapenny @croatianbagudna @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @wexhappyxfew @curraheev @medievalfangirl @bandofmarvels @those-dusty-jump-wings @majwinters @junojelli

“Are you comin’ with me to Philly?”

His voice is breathy, raspy and tired. His hands shake under the cold January night sky, eyes looking out at the snow right in front of his foxhole as he pulls you closer to his side, thin army-issued blanket spread from shoulder to shoulder.

Babe is tired, restless, and almost at the brink of tears when it comes to sleeping. Usually, he’s out like a light once the sun sets and the sky turns into the dampest shade of a black, but tonight, he can’t find himself to take the angels’ hands into slumberland where the sky is pink and the ground is as fluffy as the clouds.

He asks you the question like it isn’t the pink elephant in the room, fifteen different tangents going off in his head as he stares at the pile of snow in front of the foxhole. You shoot him a quizzical look, hand gripping the edge of the worn out blanket spread across your laps. “What?”

“Like, after the war? I mean—damn, I shoulda phrased it differently,” he stutters and his cheek start to grow red under the darkened sky. “Are you comin’ with me? Am I comin’ with you? Where we goin’ after the war?”

“You’re asking me this now?”

“My Ma always said it’s better to be prepared than sorry,” he yawns for the first time in hours since the sun said goodbye to the stars. Babe has this fear of losing you—not to bullets and grenades, no. He’s afraid he’ll lose you because of something stupid he did, like not telling you how much he loves you or if you wanted to come back to Philly with him. “And I’m kinda in love with you, y’know? I don’t ask you to come and cuddle with me in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere for nothin’.”

A small part of your heart, that isn’t frozen from the cold, warms up a little bit and your stiff lips curl up into a smile. “I feel your love so hard right now, Babe. So romantic. I love you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, but tell me—where we goin’?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home and just relaxing for a bit. War’s a tiring workplace, bub.”

“Aw man, so no Philly?” Babe whines, and you giggle, not sure if it’s the real Babe or the sleep deprivation clouding his head. “I was really hopin’ for Philly, Y/N, not gonna lie.”

“Alright, then it’s settled. It was nice knowing you, Babe.”

“Wait, nuuuuhhh—” He turn towards you and rests his head on your shoulder. He was going to caress your cheek like the gentleman he is, but he’s way to comfortable in the position he’s in under the blanket—slight warm and cozy next to your presence. “Y/N, I love you. A lot. And I am the man of your dreams. You don’t wanna be with the wrong guy, ‘cause I’m the right one for you.”

His words are slurred and his eyelids are droopy, obviously way too sleepy at this time of the night, but he fights against it to stay awake, sniffling as he tries to find the right words. You hum, squeezing his hand under the blanket as he drifts in and out of consciousness. “Well, Edward Heffron, what makes you the right one for me?”

“Well,” he tried to sit up but fails and ends up slumped against your side like a fat fish on land, “number one, I’m cute, and you like cute guys.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, a...nd I am very talented and romantic. You remember that heart I drew in the mud a while ago? That’s my Da Vinci side.” He draws a heart in the air with his pointer finger, giggling at the memory of him presenting you his masterpiece. You weren’t in the best mood back then, a little bit pissed at everyone when he dragged you out just to show you a lop-sided heart drawn with a twig he found laying around. “What else am I good at...um, I make a mean banana and peanut butter sandwich. The recipe is from my Ma, but I always pass it off as my own—shhhhhh, don’t tell her. What else...oh! I can also fart on command. Wanna see?”

“No,” you chuckle and wrap your arm around his shoulders, fingers rubbing hexagons on his cheek gently and softly and he melts into your touch.

Babe can just sit here and fade into dreamland while you play with a strand of hair peeking out from his helmet—this is his favorite way to fall asleep. With you right by his side and him snuggling into you like a cat on a rainy day, knowing that he’ll be safe in your arms. He always thinks about this moment, not in a war setting, but in a domestic setting where he is fast asleep on the couch of your shared Philly home with hot chocolate on his upper lip as you keep him by your side. He thinks about it way too much than he likes to admit, but if it’s that life he wants, then he might as well just marry you right here, right now and put a ring made of leaves on your finger.

He hums at the feeling of your fingertips on the nape of his neck so comfortably, he feel like he’s home. “I think ‘bout this all the time.”

“Baby, I know you like it when I play with your hair.”

“Yeah, I do. Can you move your hand just a little further ba—yeah, that’s the spot,” he moans as you he tug the little tuft of hair on the back of his head, eyelids screwing shut as he feels lighter than the clouds. “But I always think ‘bout us just living together. A small little home just for the two of us, a garden in the front—it’s mine, by the way—and a cat. I want a cat, Y/N. I don’t want a car, I want a cat.”

“Mm, and what would you name this cat?”

Babe is silent for a moment, and you think he’s asleep until his lips twitch. “I wanna name ‘im Sergeant Purrkins. Get it? ‘Cause...Perkins…” he yawns.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go to sleep,” you say, reaching to pull the blanket up but he slaps your hand away.

“Nooooo, I’m not finished yet!” he whines. “I need to tell you about our lives back home! You got me sidetracked, Y/N! Now I can’t remember what else I was thinkin’ about!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” You kiss his cheek, and Babe instantly forgives you. He loves it when you kiss him, especially in front of the guys—it makes him feel special. “Go on.”

“Thank you, as I was sayin’—I’m gonna marry ya. Gonna marry ya in the world’s biggest wedding with ice cream instead of cake because I’m cool like that. I’m gonna be the best husband in the entire world because I make good food and I love everything about you. Boobs and ass mostly, but I enjoy your lovin’, too.” He yawns, way too tired at this point to even continue on because it’s way past his bedtime. “So whaddya say, Y/N? You comin’ with...me to…”

Babe doesn’t even finish the sentence before he’s silent again. Eyelids shut tight, and snores escaping his parted lips as he finally falls asleep in the early hours of the morning in your arms. He dreams of that life back home with you—the one where you live comfortably with a ring on your finger, drinking hot chocolate by the windowsill as it rains outside. Sergeant Purrkins walks on the dining table as Babe pulls you into his lap and smothers you in kisses, your hand running through his locks just the way he likes it, and he will never grow hungry, just satisfied knowing that you’re his in the moment and for the years to come.

“Yes, I’ll go back to Philly with you,” you say, and he’s already fast asleep when you say it. So when you call it a night and find yourself sleeping just minutes after, you dream of the same life with Babe in Philly.

[blooming5th]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — Pretty strictly, I think? I mean... I do always try my best to stick to canon events because although I am a big fan of AUs, I absolutely suck at writing canon-divergent characters. I also look out for possible dialectisms that come from Hinamori & put some work towards Hinamori’s personal development; all of this according to whatever has happened to her in canon / is shown by her in canon.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  There’s an entire world waiting beyond Hinamori’s pretty face? She’s still pretty much just a baby when in comparison to many other Lieutenants (being the second youngest, right after lil Yachiru), which makes her super innocent and funny. She’s also very upbeat, easy-going, and friendly! She’s such a devoted Lieutenant and honestly a great worker? Super strong with her kido spells, too! A great student?! A very, very good girl, honestly! She’s the greatest person you will ever meet, I swear to GOD !!

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  Most of the people, from what I can perceive from reading different opinions and have read through my years in Bleach forums and such, is that she’s pretty mentally weak. Hinamori seems to be extremely unbalanced and the previously mentioned devotion actually becomes... a weakness? Although I don’t agree with it ( mostly because I do believe her devotion towards Aizen was induced and not... something natural ), I can understand what people mean by this. Also, she mostly uses magic spells and keeps herself at a certain distance when in combat;; which people might easily perceive as her being weak when it’s just... her fighting style and body stature.

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  I have roleplayed Hinamori for over 6 years now? almost 7, actually. I made this blog in 2014, however, I was supposed to be writing Hitsugaya. I ended up changing my entire blog’s aesthetics, not even a week later, to match Hinamori and decided to try her out. Why? Well... long story short... the fandom was full of Hitsugaya blogs. asjhdfasjdhfg I didn’t want simply be just one more in the ocean of amazing Hitsugaya writers;; so I decided to write someone who gave me access to heavy development ( because there was so little content back then ) and fun times ! lil peach was the obvious answer!

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  Most of the time its music? Whenever I decide to focus on an rp blog, I create a go-to playlist that helps me channel the muse’s traits and helps me write with more ease! That... and re-reading manga pages that might make me come up with headcanons, which I, later, always tend to apply to threads. Oh yeah, uh... LMAO! How could I forget? Talking to friends and discussing things with them, also often lets my creativity soar and helps me channel my muse’s persona. uwu

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO. 

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO. 

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  Honestly, yes? I am a person that needs to receive constant criticism & is very open about it, too. I often find myself asking for criticism & find myself craving for bigger improvement.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  HELLS TO THE YES !! But then again... who doesn’t? It makes me so so happy whenever I receive a question or a simple message that might help me develop Hinamori’s character traits or behaviours? I love my girl so much;; knowing that others want me to gush about her amazingness & make her grow even more is nothing but an honour to me, tbh.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  Well... yeah? But not in a bad way, of course! I absolutely love discussing headcanons and getting different points of view from things ( such as headcanons, in this specific topic ) so I can center myself and find a clearer way to analyze things! Discussing headcanons is dope, man!

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  This is going to be a pretty short response cause ;; I don’t care? I’m not here to really... please others. I’m here to have fun for my own self and to enjoy writing with other amazing fellas. Ain’t nobody gonna rain on my parade with unnecessary negativity;;

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  I haven’t ever seen many people hate Hinamori’s character? However, I do have seen quite the few people disregard her as the important character she is, or reduce her to a level that doesn’t... entirely fit the reason why she was created. Still, it’s none of my business. I don’t let it get to me or feel... the need to do anything about it? Or even talk about it? I can’t really change people’s views, so I often would just rather love my baby peach and let others do as they please.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  ABSOLUTELY? It’s even part of my rules like ;; please tell me if you ever find a grammatical error ANYWHERE in my blog. English isn’t my mother tongue and thus it can be very difficult for me to keep up with fancy writing while also sticking to correct grammar? idk if this makes sense but... yknow.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  I do think I am very easy going kind of fella? Sometimes it takes me forever go get to messages ( both through discord & IMS ), but I think that’s because lately I’ve been feeling super emotionally drained ;; I haven’t been out of my goddamn house for three months and I sincerely miss seeing faces that aren’t my parents. I did take a drive the other day but... sobs... it left such a bittersweet taste. ANYWAY !! Yes. I’m very easy going and talkative. Also a big, big enthusiastic? And positivist! I am someone who always prefers to stick to the bright side of life and ignore anything that might be the least problematic so yeah ~ I am uwu. Come meet me. I’m cool. I swear.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @hirako5hinji​   ( aka the greatest taichō ever. uwu go to bed harder next time, Anna. ♡ ) Tagging: ANYONE WHO WANTS TO DO IT !! just steal it from me. be gay. do crimes.

[rcris123]

“Did you see that kid Kieran?” Arthur asks Dutch next day; asked the others too, no one knew a damn thing, but all of ‘em said something of Kieran being scared the O’Driscolls been stalking him.

And there’s an idea already forming...

“No.” Dutch replies, then, letting his book down: “Why do you care?”

Kieran van Der Linde is what that boy said once when the three of ‘em went fishing, but there’s more than just mere sympathy:

“If the O’Driscolls took ‘im then they know we’re here and they’re gonna blast us all to hell.”

“You really believe he ain’t just run off?”

“If he ain’t run off ‘till now, why’d he do it?” A pace away. He’s trying to convince Dutch go let them have a look – or maybe he ain’t needing no permission; him and Sebastian are enough to take down the lot of ‘em. “Besides he was still a prisoner.”

Dutch laughed: “Where you even getting these ideas from, my friend?”

Arthur shakes his head, scoffs: “Well... thanks anyway...”

“I need you to stay strong, Arthur.”

More and more those words feel somehow empty, like he’s bringing them up just so he has the last word. But Dutch’s always been like this, why is he only now taking notice of it? Was it Blackwater? Was it Isaac? Was it Sebastian and Isaac? Who the hell knows... But this doubt’s starting to itch inside him and more and more he’s feeling like he’s tearing this place apart and the reasoning behind it is as vague as a pang inside his chest and a ‘It ain’t right’ dangling inside his skull. It feels like it’s all become a chore, suffocating like this goddamn swamp and how goddamn good it felt to get out and do fishing with the kid, Sebastian. What fun they had catching that monster o’a sturgeon.

A sigh, ‘cause he’s still wanting to find out what the hell happened to that Kieran boy. He loves these people, Dutch, Hosea, John, Charles, Lenny, Sean, the women, everyone. He always did it all for them. Why stop now?... And he’d mount up, but instead just ends up giving scratches to Ghost. The bullet wound doesn’t seem to bother her all that much anymore.

If he were to go, Isaac’ll have to come with him.

“You know I saw a couple of them O’Driscoll Boys runnin’ around.” That’s Sadie’s voice.

“Oh, really?” Arthur turns around

“Yeah.” She even climbs in the saddle. “No one seems to care when I get out of camp so I followed them around a bit. Seems they’re holed up in some abandoned town in Lemoyne.”

His face lights up.

“Can you tells us-”

“I’m riding with you, Arthur. I can’t forgive them, you know that.”

“And Kieran?”

“Boy’s harmless. A bit whiny, but harmless.”

“Okay.” Arthur rubs his chin. “ ‘kay. You wait here, I’m gonna get some people.”

“The two of us is all we need.”

“I know, but my heart ain’t letting me.”

Sadie snorts: “You’re one sappy old man.”

“Very funny.” Arthur beckons as he gets back upstairs; Sadie’s got her charm about her, never once sounding truly mean spirited.

Inside Sebastian was still asleep; man barely got any rest last night, tossing and turning, breaking into cold sweat. He even managed somehow to scratch a scab away. It bled. Isaac found himself something to read, legs to chest, on the floor against the dresser by the bedside.

“Mornin’.”

“Mornin’.” His son greets back with a thin smile.

“Got any breakfast?”

Isaac shakes his head and places the book on the dresser behind him.

“Get downstairs and eat somethin’, Isaac. Pack some for the road too.”

Boy gets up: “Where we headed?”

“Getting that kid Kieran back.”

Isaac’s eyes grew wide: “Ain’t that official business?”

A look at him, a sigh: “No.”

It’s a bit too much o’a request for a boy like Isaac but his childhood’s fast coming to an end and no matter how much he tried keeping him clean from outlawing and gunslinging, the noose’s getting tighter by the day and he’s much rather know his son can fight than lose him ‘cause he ain’t been enough a man to teach him.

Maybe he ain’t ever been much of a man to begin with, all queer like he is – he heard Tilly insulting Bill like that once. She knew, they all knew, and now Arthur ain’t no different.

“Okay.” But his son still trusts him; and that’s enough.

Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, compelled to run a hand through the rough hair on the side of Sebastian’s head, lean in, whisper something for good morning.

“Good mornin’, you stubborn ol’ buck.” He did just that in the end.

“I’m middle-aged.” Sebastian muses, a smile drawing on thin lips.

“And I’m a grandparent.”

A snort. A flutter of brown doe eyes, then an inhale as Sebastian tries to turn on the other side:

“Good morning to you too.” A stretch, then a grunt and the man rolls back to face Arthur: “What you up to?”

“Finding that boy Kieran. I want you to ride with me.”

“Always.” It’s soft the way he says that and once more Arthur finds himself running fingers through the rough hair on the side of the man’s head.

“Managed to catch some sleep?”

As hand threatens to let go Sebastian catches it into his own; holds it.

“Not really...”

“What kept you up?” A sigh; he looks away and Arthur squeezes his hand. “Talk to me, would you...”

A huff, a tug of the arm closer: “I’m afraid... That they gonna take it all- and then I remember I have nothing left anyway...”

“That ain’t it, Sebastian.”

“If this counts-“ another tug of the arm. “If this is me having something how do I know it ain’t gonna end up the same. You. The kid. Why are these fucking things up again-” He growls, suppresses a sob, the closes his eyes and exhales with difficulty.

“Sebastian...” And the man draws him closer in. “You gotta trust ye’rself. And you gotta trust this poor ol’ fool’s luck, ‘cause he ain’t died just yet.” It’s absent minded again how he touches the medallion, ‘cause it dangles heavy from the neck, and Sebastian catches that.

Looping an arm around Arthur’s back the man props himself up with yet another groan.

“I ain’t seen anyone more stubborn than you.” Arthur speaks up again.

“Yeah. Me either...”

He liked that: looking at him. He’s handsome and not deserving the shit this world gave him.

“Now let’s get that kid Kieran.”

“Yeah.” Determination grows on Sebastian’s features.

 Downstairs they couldn’t help running into Sean; boy’s been frantic trying his best to keep up with camp chores and whatnot, but somehow still ended up sleeping somewhere in some uncomfortable pose. He ain’t gonna question that. And maybe that was for the worst ‘cause now Sean tagged along with them and the moment he saw Isaac there lad knit his eyebrows and felt like he swore on Christ and the Virgin Mary not to let any harm come to the boy. And that’s just hoping trouble ain’t finding Sean first.

But Sadie ain’t protested so it’s the 4 of them and the kid that set out and for now he ain’t as scared as he could be.

The road takes them past Caliga Hall, towards the Kamassa River, they follow the water’s bend, until he recognizes the Eris Fields to their left, and further up ahead he remembers that bridge: took towards the Marshes, Bluewater were they called? Sadie rode hard the entire time. Sean tried talking, maybe ‘cause he ain’t doing good in the silence, but silence’s what he got.

“If we’re lookin’ for a spooky place that one’s pretty much fittin’ the description.” Sean spoke again.

It looked like an abandoned town. He’s passed here before, he remembers that collapsed church, the graves. Isaac read them all –all died 1893, just a month after it was all built. And at that moment Isaac looked at him:

“Ain’t this?-”

Sadie jumped down from saddle: “We take it from foot here.” She took her gun.

“We sure there’s O’Driscoll’s there?” Sean wasn’t all convinced. “It’s lookin’ pretty quiet for the lot of ‘em if you ask me.”

“There still looks to be guards out.” Sebastian intervened. “Look. There.”

A man in the characteristic green, slumped over with what looked like a riffle for support. He ain’t looking at all lively. Something felt off.

“Me and Sadie go up ahead.” Arthur said. “Sean, Sebastian, you hang back for support in case there’s more o’em coming from behind-” Sean almost protested. “Don’t want a word of it, Sean. Isaac, you too, go with ‘em.”

His son picked out the riffle that was now stored on Big Sir – it previously belonged on Ghost.

No turning back now; Sadie already went up ahead. It’s with big steps that Arthur follows behind, one pat on the revolver’s bed, synching his movement for a quick draw. Hands quickly return to holding the Repeater.

It’s Sadie that shoots first; there was no opposition from that guard except one panicked jerk up. Body falls. She rushes inside. Arthur takes one more glance back at the other three before heading in himself. There’s already gunshots. A scream from Sadie. Guns blazing, there’s already 2 dead inside. Arthur adds another to the count.

“There’s more in the other room!” Sadie shouts, and indeed O’Driscolls pour out.

One’s shot right in the doorframe; the one behind stumbles over it. He meets the same crude fate with a bullet to the head. Arthur took care of the 2 other left in that main room.

There’s gunshots outside now too. And a muffled scream for below the floorboards. Kieran? Sadie caught that too: her gaze darts downwards.

“Guess he’s in the cellar-” Arthur speaks but he ain’t getting to finish that.

Sadie rushes by him joining the gunfight outside. A peak out: there’s at least 13 of them. But he ain’t sure about the rest of ‘em.

They gotta hold out.

“Com’on.” Arthur psyches himself up while darting past the battlefield.

There’s a few stray bullets that try to get a hold of him. Better luck next time. He searches for the entrance to the cellar- Another O’Driscoll jumps out, knife in hand. Arthur darts back; the tip of the blade cut his vest. Arthur ducks and tackles the other with force to the ground. Man swats the knife, before dropping it on impact. Fists come raining and the O’Driscoll ain’t moving soon, face a pool of blood.

It’s only now he notices the rashes on the man’s skin. The fact that he had a gun he ain’t used... Heart sinks. He turns the downed O’Driscoll’s face with the tip of his boot as he stood up, the sin looked like that of a carcass and that can’t all be his doing...

He gotta find that Kieran soon, that if these bastards ain’t eaten him alive, or worse yet, left the job half finished.

There’s the cellar. He blasts the lock open with the sawed-off shotgun and dashes inside. There ain’t no light down there and Arthur’s feelin’ like it takes too goddamn long until he fumbles the lantern alight. There’s growling around him.

And when he shines light into the room he sees no less than three O’Driscolls drooling and clattering their teeth, hogtied with rope, as if they belonged in an insane asylum. And then there’s Kieran, bound and gagged with an arm bleeding. When seeing Arthur boy struggles against the restraints.

“I gotchu now, stay calm.” Kieran relaxes onto the chair as he goes to cut off the rope and take the gag out.

One glance is spared for that wounded arm: someone gnawed at it. Jesus Christ! Poor bastard... And as soon as he’s free Kieran clutches that arm against his chest with his other one. A hand on the back to guide him out. The gunshots stopped.

“Th-thank you, Arthur.” Kieran mutters on the stairs.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

“Y-you saved my life...”

“You saved mine once before, it’s the least I could do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Arthur pats the boy on the back: “It’s okay, kid.”

“Arthur!” That’s Sean calling, he came running. “Sebastian’s calling for ya’.”

Arthur strides forward, letting go of Kieran, then before he forgot turns to them: “Sean, help him up on Big Sir, would you.”

“Sure.”

When he reaches around the house, Sebastian was buzzing from place to place like an angry hornet while Sadie stared at the barn doors. They were sealed shut and it read: STAY OUT PLAGUE. A hand rushes up to cover his mouth and rub his beard. Christ. So a plague is what caused them undead.

He goes to meet Sebastian, whose head was in the ground, deep in thought; man wanted to shake Arthur off when he put his hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me.” Arthur tells him quietly. “Sebastian-”

“That Cajun was right.” Sebastian growls, muscles releasing the tension they were holding before. “If only I was here back then-” Arthur holds him firmer. “Joseph might still be-”

“Shshsh...” Hand switch from cupping the man’s shoulders to cupping his face, but Sebastian grits his teeth and grips Arthur’s collar between his fists.

“You don’t get it. I let this happen. It’s my fault-”

“You ain’t lettin’ it happen again.” His voice raises only to meet Sebastian’s volume.

“PA!” Isaac shouts from somewhere, and his attention’s fully focused on that now; and so’s Sebastian. “Com’ere a moment!”

They both rush to do so.

There’s more writing on the walls of that home: BEWARE RUVIC, though he ain’t sure if that’s an C or a K ‘cause half of it is missing’, the other smudged off at the corner. He also ain’t sure if RUVIC’s two words or one. Arthur takes out his journal and the engraved pen from his satchel to start drawing it. The blue lines hold out better.

“You think that’s a name?” Isaac asks.

“Could be.” Sebastian muses. “Or some abreviation.”

“From what?”

“Don’t know.”

“We gonna find that out.” Arthur scratches his beard again, “But first we gotta take Kieran back. Those undead took a bite outta him.”

Isaac’s mouth hangs open, while Sebastian’s scrunches shut.

“He’s on your horse, Isaac, you can go on ahead.”

Boy nods, springs up and sprints away.

Sadie hands back and so does Sean:

“So what the hell’s this all about?” Sean speaks up.

“It’s some disease.” Sebastian says, mounting up. “It turns people idiots and deranged.”

Isaac’s off already, Kieran holding onto the boy for dear life ‘cause Big Sir sprung straight to a swift gallop.

“So they lose the ability to speak and go wild like animals?” Sadie asks.

“Pretty much.” Arthur chimes in. “Saw a couple of ‘em chained up in the basement next to Kieran.”

“And they gain a taste for human flesh.” Sebastian elaborate further.

“Jesus!” Sean and Sadie alike.

“Ain’t sounding like it’s anythin’ natural.” Sean throws out his opinion.

“Are people even capable of doing that?” Sadie ain’t fully convinced.

“If RUVIC’s anything to go by,” Sebastian starts. “I’d say it’s a human. Or a bunch o’em.”

Sadie sighed: “Then it’s a good thing we got rid of ‘em, I say.”

“Yeah.” Sean chimed in.

 The road back feels faster, mind’s a’gallop, runnin’ to catch some coherence before it goes entirely insane. It ain’t no wonder such things are making Sebastian toss at night. They tortured him once before and now came for seconds. And for that man’s sanity and the hope that the world ain’t entirely gone to shit they gotta find some reason to this – the man, or men, behind it all.

And for that they gotta set out again.

Only their welcome back ain’t one reserved for victors.

“What you done now, Morgan...” Micah cackles from where he was leaned on a tree, sharpening something with a knife.

He ain’t replied, but Dutch glared at him as if he just murdered a gang member. He can’t stand it, and soon neither can Dutch:

“Did I tell you you can go fetch him, Arthur?” Tone’s low and scolding.

“I told you why.”

“Not that you were actually going through with it?” Dutch stepped forward, eyebrows drawn together. Arthur squared his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you, Arthur?...”

“Could ask the same of you, Dutch...” They’re measuring each other up with glances. “What happened to taking care of folk?”

“And what happened to loyalty, son?...”

“Been loyal, Dutch. Always.”

Dutch slowly backs away as if he’s letting Arthur have this, but no, now he spoke louder: “Then don’t you trust my judgment!?”

“Well, me and Sadie felt different.” Arthur retorts.

“Then what next!? You gonna feel different and put a gun to my head, Arthur?”

“Now that ain’t true.” Sean butts in. “Ain’t you heard him, he cares for folk. It’s why we all went to get that other Irish bastard. Can’t stand the focker but I ain’t standing Micah either ‘n Arthur busted that walkin’ shite outta prison anyway.”

Dutch’s scowl could have murdered on its own. Arthur holds Sean back before either of ‘em draw or throw a punch.

And in all o’ this Hosea was quiet. But Sadie wasn’t:

“Unless you wanted to fight diseased, half dead, feral O’Driscolls I’d say we did you a favor.”

“The what?...” Now Hosea spoke up.

“Yeah.” Sadie continued. “The bastards that came and took Kieran were more dead than alive.”

“Found 3 of ‘em chained up in the basement growling and drooling like animals.” Isaac chimes in.

Dutch’s eyes grow wide.

“Ain’t you seen the bastards bit chunks of that boy’s arm off?” Sadie continues.

“... I guess in that case... thank you.” Hosea at least had the dignity to accept defeat. Dutch didn’t, just stood quiet where he was. “Arthur... Maybe you should keep an eye out for that.”

“Already on it, me an’ Sebastian. Found this person, RUVIC, his name on the walls where Kieran was held.”

“Okay...” Hosea sounded half terrified. “I’ll see if I can poke my nose into it too.”

“Thank you, Hosea.”

[harunoheart]

Oneirophrenia C7

Oneirophrenia C7

———————

Sasuke Uchiha

———————

The next morning we woke up at sunrise. The fire pit was still smoldering from the night before, a few coals glowing in the pile of ashes.

I threw some dirt on the coals to suffocate the flame and did a final check on our rations for the day. Our goal was to travel for a few hours at most, just a quick here and back trip to test Sakura’s distance theory...but we packed enough for two days, just in case.

“Are you ready to go?” She asked, looking up as she laced her boots. Her backpack sat next to her, full of medical supplies she preemptively summoned last night.

I gave her a quick affirmation and pulled out a few barrier tags from my cloak. Placing three in a triangulated position around our campsite, I activated the seal with my chakra and watched the campsite shimmer into the background of the forest. That should protect us from unexpected visitors, at least the human ones.

Squirrels always seemed to find their way through these things.

Sakura walked up beside me and slung her bag over her shoulder with a determined smile on her face. “You’re up first, Sasuke-kun.”

Concentrating my chakra into my eyes I felt the Rinne-sharingan whirring to life. My vision shifted into hyper awareness and as a breeze passed through the forest I was suddenly aware of every leaf falling off the trees as the first signs of autumn made itself clear.

Out of my peripheral, I could see Sakura tightening the Velcro on her gloves, anticipating anything. Her forearms flexed and I could see her pulse racing in her wrist. I turned my head so she wasn’t in my line of sight while I opened the portal.

Focusing all my chakra I picked a fixed point in space. Visualizing a pinprick sized hole tearing wider and wider still. The trees began to distort and the portal came into view, black and ominous and wildly unstable.

I could only keep it open for a moment or two. Widening the portal until we could safely jump through we were finally ready to begin our mission.

“Let’s go.”

————

Stepping through the portal felt like jumping into a magnetic field. You can feel the shifting of the atmospheric pressure as we entered the mountain range.

The sky glowed with an ominous green, but the sun rose in the east, just like home. You could see the hazy outline of the moon where Kaguya and Zetsu are imprisoned, fading into the sky as the sunlight filtered through the atmosphere.

Sakura looked around, scanning our surroundings for threats. “So far so quiet,” she said, kneeling down to the earth. Grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground she examined the soil. “It’s damp, and cool, it probably rained a few days ago. There’s potential for sustaining plant life but...” she looked around again straining her eyes into the distance, “not a tree in sight.”

“Grab a sample, everything helps.” I allowed my eyes to rest from the strain, a headache beginning to form. Sakura took a vial from her bag, packing the dirt inside and capping it with a cork before labeling it with the Kanji for mountain again.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me as the flow of chakra to my eyes suddenly halted. I pinched the bridge of my nose and waited for the headache to pass. On my left I heard the sound of water sloshing in a bottle.

“Here, take a break. It’s my turn,” she smiled, handing me the drink. I gratefully took it while she rummaged through her bag for supplies.

Sakura pulled out a Kunai and a stack of what appeared to be exploding tags. I watched as she wrapped the handle of the knife with the parchment and pricked her finger on the blade, placing a drop of blood on the handle before embedding it in the dirt on the top of the peak we stood on.

“How good is your eyesight?” She asked, putting the extra tags back in the bag.

“Do you have to ask?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes, “If we run into trouble, this beaconing tag is coded to my chakra. Wherever we end up, I can activate it to send up a flare so we can find this location again.” Sakura ran her other hand over the pinprick to heal. Her hand glowed green as she continued, “if we need to, can you use Amenotejikara to switch places with the kunai, or do you need something bigger?”

As to be expected, Sakura continues to surprise and impress me. Her analytical skill is almost at the level of Shikamaru.

“Theoretically, a kunai should work, but I’ve never brought anyone else with me with my Amenotejikara.”

“Then we will have to test your range with it while we explore.” She said smiling. Getting up off the ground and dusting off her knees she maintained the sparkling sense of optimism she had as a kid. I’ll never admit it out loud but it made the work feel less heavy. I appreciated it.

“Your theory about relative dimensional space seems to be holding up so far. The sun seems to be rising in the same direction as back in our world. We should travel A few miles south. If you’re right, we should be able to open up another portal closer to the main road we traveled on.”

Sakura nodded in affirmation and we began to walk, the kunai glinting in the sunrise behind us.

——

“Sasuke?”

“Hn...”

“You see it too...right?”

“....yeah.”

The valley in front of them shimmered like a prism, reflecting light in a soft wave that seemed to breathe with the landscape. It looked like a barrier of some kind, stretching out across the mountains for miles beyond where we could see.

Sakura picked up a rock from the floor and tossed it at the apparition from where we stood, a good 30 feet away. It appeared to fall right through, not disturbing or awakening anything, so we cautiously got closer.

Looking up towards the sky the shimmer stretched into the cloudless blue, its iridescent reflection glittering in the sun.

“Sasuke, look...” Sakura pointed straight ahead. Our outlines began to reflect themselves in the prism, like a cloudy haze. The figures mirrored ours as Sakura lifted her right arm, the reflection moved it’s left. “Do you think it’s some sort of genjutsu?”

“It’s definitely a trap. Until we know what it does, we should be cautious,” I said. Sakura nodded in agreement, grabbing a kunai from her pouch and preparing for a fight. Out of my periphery I see her try to take a step forward, and instinctively blocked her movement with my arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Naruto isn’t here, so one of us has to,” her hand reached up to grab mine, “And you’re out of chakra,” she said, shoving past me without hesitation and approached the shimmer in front of her. Her hazy reflection did the same, gaining clarity with each step. Soon she was face to face with a mirror image with an iridescent sheen.

Sakura moved her head side to side and watched as the copy did the same. She side stepped, and the copy moved in sync with her, but with a slight lag. I readied my grip on my sword and stepped closer, poising to interfere.

Slowly, Sakura reaches out towards her shimmery self and smiles. The reflection smiles back. My heart suddenly raced with anxiety as they got closer...I had a bad feeling about this...

Their fingertips touched and it was like the world collapsed.

“Look out!!” I yelled, drawing my sword. But it was too late...

The shimmer collapsed and I heard Sakura scream. Running towards her as she collapsed on the ground I don’t see any sign of the shimmery Sakura or of the barrier that divided the valley. I scooped Sakura off the ground and propped her up against a nearby boulder.

Her face shimmered with an iridescent sheen before fading back into her skin.

“Sakura...Sakura wake up,” I shook her shoulder and pressed my hand against her cheek. She was still breathing, but was fully unconscious. Great. Im out of chakra and my teammate is passed out.

I couldn’t even tell if she was under a genjutsu or not. I drew my sword and decided to scan the surroundings again. The shimmer was gone, and the horizon looked the same as it did in every other direction. Full of fucking mountains. I grit my teeth and tried to strategize the next move when I heard a deep, guttural laugh from behind me.

A chill went down my spine as I turned around.

Another deep, sinister laugh erupted from Sakura’s chest. She straightened up and her eyes glosses over with a dark haze.

The smile on her face was not hers anymore, it was sadistic and dangerous.

Ice ran through my veins as I saw her body become possessed. My heart dropped in my chest and I took a step backwards, gripping the handle of my sword.

“Aaah...Finally!,” she laughed, her hands rising up in front of her face. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Some fresh fucking air.” She pulled the hitai-ate off her hair and shook it out, tousling it so it was more loose and messy than usual.

“Who are you?” I asked, ready to strike at any moment. Sakura looked at me confused.

“Who am I?” She asked, raising a finger to her chin to ponder she finally “What do you mean, Sasuke-Kun? It’s just me....” She drawled out and feigned an innocent look before a smirk found its way into her face. She bit her lip playfully and I tried not to think about why I felt a blood rush.

Shit. This was bad.

I pulled the sword from its sheath and pointed the blade at her neck. I didn’t want to hurt her though, so this was going to be difficult. I needed my sharingan so I could get inside her mind and figure out why she was acting like this.

“Leave her. Now.” She laughed again, stepping towards me.

“Oh please,” she said, her voice low and dripping with sarcasm, “I’ve been here the whole time, Sasuke-kun. Hiding in plain sight,” she touched her fingertip to the blade and sliced it. Without breaking eye contact with me she put the wounded finger into her mouth and moaned. “That shimmery thing probably just scrambled my consciousness around,” she pondered, healing her finger, “I have an awful headache...” she pouted.  

I still didn’t have enough chakra to activate my sharingan, I needed to stall her. I pressed the blade against her throat instead. “What are you?” She smiled sweetly, her face looking so much like the girl I knew but those ghostly eyes left me feeling uneasy. I had to think fast, how do I free her from this without...

With a flick of her finger, the blade shattered. Disintegrated down to the hilt until I was left with nothing but the leather grip in my hand. In my surprise she caught me off guard and stepped in closer.

“Mmm...” she sighed, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. “Are you worried?” She sighed, melancholic and a little pouty. Her fingertips traced my collarbone through my shirt, I looked down to see her usual bright green eyes were now dark, like a forest. Her chakra felt the same, but it had a different flow to it now. Usually it ebbed as naturally as breathing, but now...now it was almost playful. It reminded me of the Ninneko, when their tails would sway back and forth before pouncing.

“Think of me like a Genjutsu. Sakura’s hidden will. She created me on accident, a long time ago. When she was just a little girl struggling to find herself. I’ve been here since before we even met you.”

Her hand reached up to grab my jawline and she held it firmly in her grasp as she leaned in, stopping just before kissing me.

“Do you want to know where she is?” She whispered.

I didn’t answer.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. We share the same heart after all. My attraction to you however, is a little more...primal than hers...that is if you feel the need to differentiate. Technically I’m just unrestrained.” She dragged her fingertip under my chin and stepped away with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll give you some of my chakra if you want, so you can find her in my memories.” She held out her hand, smirking. “Unless you wanna have a different kind of fun,” she winked.

Ignoring the uncomfortable forwardness of THAT...her offer felt like a trap. “What’s the catch.”

“No catch, Sasuke-kun. But I’m warning you, it’s not very pretty in here,” she pointed to her head. “And now that I’m the one awake, all of her demons have come out to play. All the hatred, sadness, and suffering we endured is being let out of all the little boxes she put us in to ‘compartmentalize’. You just need to find which one has dragged her under. Sakura manifested me out of her fear of being anything less than delicate,” She sneered at the word like it was poison. “There is an entire realm in her mind that belongs to me and the illusion she created to restrain herself in reality. This is where you need to start your search for her consciousness. I’m warning you though...it doesn’t take kindly to visitors, just ask Ino.”

“What does the Yamanaka have to do with this?”

“See for yourself,” She said, holding out her hand .

I weighed the options...and hesitantly reached out.

The rush of chakra filled my body like a glass of water and my sharingan spun to life.

———————

Sakura Haruno

———————

Am I ...dead?

I felt myself blink but the world around me was nothing but darkness.

What happened?

I lifted my hands and was pleasantly surprised I could see them. I looked down at my feet, bare and standing in...water?

Cautiously, I took a step forward. The sound of water splashing with my footsteps echoed in the darkness.

Where am I?

I looked around, but saw nothing but black. I took a few more steps forward but heard a sound coming from behind me. I turned around to find a younger version of myself, crouched down near the ground and crying softly.

Coming face to face with my younger self was...jarring. I was so small...

My hair was choppy and growing in uneven, it covered my tiny round face in a halfhearted attempt to hide. I kind of wanted to laugh, the little pout on my baby face was so cute and sad at the same time. I remember feeling like an outcast, being teased.

I know now that what I went through wasn’t anything compared to what Naruto had to deal with growing up but as a child that was my reality. My world was so small, and I stayed safe for a long time.

I walked towards her and crouched in front.

She looked up at me and wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself. Putting on a brave face before looking up at me.

“I’m lost...” she said softly, wiping the tears from her face.

“Me too,” I smiled, holding out my hand, “Do you want to look with me?”

I wasn’t even sure what we were looking for, but it beat sitting in the darkness.

The little me nodded and took my hand, and without anything else to do - we started walking.

————

Sorry for the VERY late update everyone. I just had to pick up and move my entire life across the country so I’ve had a lot on my mind. But the new Sasuke Retsuden spoilers are giving me LIFE and I’m ready to jump into writing this story again.

I have a lot planned, and a lot of puzzle pieces to assemble so bare with me.

Hope you enjoy!

[jeongyuh]

NAYEON AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

there were so many gifs wow she’s so pretty a whole babe

girlfriend nayeon! this a female love female account... unless you state otherwise... there’s gonna be gay all around here so srry males??

if ur a male reading this im so srry i have to let my gay feelings come out you know...? you can always request though (:

(pls request)

girlfriend nayeon would be so.... so cute?? the type to be really cutely clingy

she isn’t the annoying clingy, where she’ll literally pester you about everything, but the cute clingy

won’t let you stop cuddling without a fight... she loves to cuddle and be held

puckers her lips, wanting a kiss

and it’s not just one kiss, oh no, it’s multiple small kisses

really enjoys holding your hand, privately and in public,

swinging them around when you’re walking through a park or holding ur hand underneath a blanket

squeals a lot... like excited squeals

claps her cute hands when excited too ugh

wants you to smile and be happy always, so she’ll do her best and the most to make sure you’re always in a positive state

a really supportive girlfriend, she’ll be one of the first people to back you up on things

but if she thinks one of your ideas are... not so great... she’ll tell you that, or if it’s just something that could potentially put you in a negative situation

a big fan on cooing... the two of you’ve become so used to the coos that it’s how you both just communicate that way???

“aw my little baby~ what are you doing sweetie~”

“cutie patootie~ MY cutie patootie~ love you~”

really touchy and handsy, usually not in that particular way, mainly innocent

you could be doing anything and she’ll just, snake her arms around your waist... kissing your shoulder or cheek as you’re “busy”

“nayeon i’m washing the dishes...”

“okay... what about it”

“can’t really, move to place the dishes with you sloth wrapped around me...”

“okay let’s just–“ scoots along with you lmao

but when she’s in that mood oho honey let’s just say she’s?? not the cooing master anymore???

nayeon’s usually really submissive and acts cute with you, not usually being dominant

but it’s changes when she’s in the mood to mess around

unlike when she’s innocently touching you, she’ll start off with subtle rubs on your lower back or your leg maybe even your inner leg if she wants it quick

and she’ll get closer and closer, till it’s just you two with your lips inches away from one another’s, warm air being shared between the two of you

and then it gets freaky

but we ain’t here for that right ok soft hour back on

likes showing you off to the other girls.. literally just... presenting how much she loves you

“ha ha guys omg look my beautiful girlfriend so happened to be here today???”

“you texted me to meet you here nayeon what are you–“

“ha ha shut up you cutie??? let’s sit with my friends come on.”

likes to brag about you, your relationship, how amazing and pretty you are– must I say more

“yeah. you’re in love. shut up already, loser.”

“it’s just, y/n’s so amazing you know how did I find a girl SO amazing ugh–”

when she’s asked to hang out with the other gals, if you’re not tagging along, she’ll make up an excuse to not go

“uhhhh I’ll just say i have some type of flu???”

“some type?? nayeon just go... I’ll just, stick around.”

“hmm.. no, no I’ll just say i have to.. feed the kids or whatever.”

“we– we don’t have kids.”

genuinely sees a future with you ):

like she’ll always bring up how she wants to buy a house with you, own a ton of pets and plants, get married, have kids...

that’s when you’re most soft

like wow this girl is amazing, how could you not love her

nayeon treats you with so much care, and though relationships are about both parties working together, you feel like she does so much for you

and you always wake up every morning, thinking about you can make her day the best day... every morning

but to nayeon, you take care of her so much more than she does,

you always make sure she’s happy, in anything and everything, you check in on her and make her feel super important... like she’s on top of the world and can conquer anything as long as you’re beside her

extreme soft hours : open

“babe did you eat today.”

“baby don’t forget to grab an umbrella!! it’s gonna rain today!!”

“sweet cheeks let’s go get dinner ): you’ve worked all day long ):”

“I know we saw each other like two minutes ago but I miss you already ): ): ):”

long story short nayeon as a girlfriend??? yes pls.

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Epilogue - Part Seven)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are totally going to be annoyed with me for how I left it on a cliffhanger when I totally didn’t have to except to show some character growth and how things change...which I guess is exactly the reason I ended it that way :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615@a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

“Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian answers automatically, the shock of his father just showing up at his door stunning him for only a moment. It’s not like he never visits. He usually just calls or texts first. “I didn’t know you were coming over, dad. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I was visiting the kids and thought I’d drop by since I knew that the two of you had returned home.” His dad steps inside, squeezing his shoulder before leaning down to pet Indy. “Hello, darling,” he then greets Emma, kissing her cheek before wrapping her up in a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good, good,” Emma insists, her eyes still blown wide as if she’s actually been shocked. He knows she’s still a bit rattled from the flight and her nausea. The same thing had happened when they went out sailing the morning of their anniversary, before the disaster of the rest of that day, and even though he had been wary of it, Emma insisted she was fine. She never said she wasn’t, but the green of her face told him otherwise. “How are you?”

“Kicking pretty high for my age.”

“You are not old,” she laughs, tugging on Indy’s leash. “Do you mind if I take Indy for a quick walk? Let her run around a bit. She’s been told she’s going outside, and I’m afraid she’ll freak out if she doesn’t get to go.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll chat with Killian, and the second you two come back inside, I want to hear all about how you’ve been since you left us to go holiday in the warm sunshine. I swear it’s rained for the past week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emma takes a step over toward him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, whispering that she’ll be right back before taking a step outside with Indy and leaving him with his dad.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“I’m fine.” His father begins walking to the living room, settling down into the recliner he prefers when visiting all while Killian sits down on the couch next to him, only a side table between them. “So how was your holiday?”

He almost chokes on his own saliva thinking of all of the things he absolutely cannot tell his father about their holiday as well as wondering if he should bring up the privacy issue just yet. He doesn’t know, is never truly sure about these types of things. He could have a nice, normal conversation with his father or it could turn into another tense, stressful one. He’s had enough of those for a lifetime, but he also knows that he doesn’t have all of the time in the world to fix this. He’s got fewer than four months, really.

“It was wonderful,” he finally answers, his lips ticking up on one side. It really was wonderful to get away with Emma and only have each other for awhile despite the disaster that was their anniversary. It got better, though. It wasn’t completely bad. They had the sailing trip and the takeout meal that was better than anything else they’d eaten if only for how comfortable they both felt. He felt his son move for the first time, which was bloody brilliant and most definitely his new favorite thing. “It’s a gorgeous island. Emma mentioned something about asking you to make our beaches like that.”

Brennan barks out a laugh, the wrinkles on his face all gathering together while his gray hair shakes the slightest bit. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess his dad is getting his hair cut in the next two or three days, keeping up with his lifelong schedule of haircuts. “If only I could. That would be bloody wonderful. But I like the way she thinks.”

“She’s definitely a brilliant dreamer.” He trails off toward the end of his sentence, looking down at his hand and twisting his ring around his finger, his constant physical reminder of his lifelong commitment to Emma, as if he really needs one. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?”

“Of course.”

“I know, well, I know that things were different when I was a kid, that technology wasn’t as advanced, that I was a bit of a surprise child and that you were on the older side when I was born.”

“Well, why don’t you just call me elderly then, Killian? And you have absolutely no proof that you were a surprise child.”

His dad laughs when he speaks, but Killian isn’t finding a lot of humor in it, knowing that he’s likely going to upset Brennan with his words.

“What I mean is, I know you weren’t really, truly involved in my life. And I’m not blaming you or trying to make you feel…upset, but I need a very particular kind of advice that really only you and mum or Liam and Abigail can give. And I’m honestly not even sure you can give it.”

“What’s wrong, Killian?”

He takes a moment to collect himself, hundreds of words on the tip of his tongue but none of them feeling quite right. But he has to say something, so he might as well speak the truth.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father in a world where I can’t protect the privacy of my wife and my child? There were, um, photographers who rented out a house and used scopes to take pictures of us on the beach. And Emma and I got into a pretty nasty argument about it. She’s worried…I’m worried about Andrew’s privacy. We want him to live a life as normal as possible. We don’t want photographers following him to school or to the park, and I just – I don’t know how to fix it.”

He’s been clenching his fist all while he talks, the tenseness in his hand almost painful while hot tears form in his eyes, every fault and every insecurity he’s had long before the fight with Emma coming back and assaulting his senses, making everything a dark, cloudy blur.

Brennan looks calm, secure, the blue of his eyes not changing while his eyelids rapidly blink, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face increasing. Has he said too much? Shown too much emotion? Asked for the impossible?

“The fact that you have very obviously beaten yourself up about this proves that you are a better dad than I ever have been.”

“That’s not what I meant, dad. I didn’t – ”

“I know, Killian. I’m not taking offense to anything. I was a poor excuse for a father for the majority of your life. I was focused on Liam, on my job, on the protocol and the way that my father raised Albert and me. All I knew was that fathers were not supposed to be close to their children, and as much as that hurt me as a child, I stupidly believed it. The fact that you have forgiven me is something I still can’t believe.”

He leans over and places his hand on Brennan’s knee, patting him before leaning back and wiping at his eyes. “I did it for me, but with the way you’ve worked to change, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, my boy.” His father smiles, settling back into his chair and crossing his hands together in his lap. “But this is not about me. This is about you and your family. So you don’t want Andrew in the public eye? At all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it in serious length, but yes. I’m sure that Emma will be okay with releasing the occasional photo or having him join us when we go overseas so we don’t have to be apart from him, but I think we’re going to have to take a step back in traditions. And when he gets older, I think we may need to move somewhere much more private.”

The front door opens then, the alarm beep sounding at the same time that he hears the click of nails and the squeak of sneakers as well as Emma’s voice. He straightens up, fixing his hunched back and sitting against the couch in as much of a relaxed position as he can.

“Go find, Killian, girl, yeah,” Emma coos, her voice getting louder the closer she gets to the living room. And then she’s in view, Indy running in first and jumping up on the couch before getting down once she spots Brennan, less familiar people always more exciting than him. Emma walks toward him, sitting down in the seat Indy just vacated and reaching around him to tangle her fingers in his hair, stroking the strands. “What’s wrong? Your shoulders are tensed.”

How the hell does she always know?

“Killian and I,” his father answers for him, seemingly understanding that Killian wasn’t sure what to say, “were simply talking about how you two seem to be suffering from some privacy issues and are worried about your child’s future, that you want Andrew to lead a more private life than normal.”

“Oh,” Emma gulps, her hand stilling in his hair before beginning again, “well, yeah. I know that we all grew up differently and that my childhood isn’t really an option, but that’s what I want, what we want. We want him to be able to be a kid, you know? I don’t want him to be used to cameras everywhere he goes. I don’t know how we’d fix that, but that’s definitely my top priority right now. And forever probably.”

His hand finds Emma’s knee, thumb running back and forth over the material of her leggings while she speaks. He’s here with her, for her, consistently, and he hopes that she knows this.

“Why don’t you two give me some time to think things over? I’ll meet with security. We’ll work out some plans and ideas. You two should probably talk to Liam and Abigail. It’s not, well, it won’t be exactly the same. You have more freedom than them, and they’re not quite as private as the two of you. But they do have experience in all of this.” “Thank you, Brennan,” Emma sighs, leaning back into the couch and scratching at his neck, his eyes fluttering closed for a quick moment.

“Of course, but at the end of the day, above everything else, we’re a family. How you two feel is far more important than any sort of duty and tradition we have, even if I do ask that we stick to the important ones.”

“Actually, I have something else that I want to talk about.”

His head snaps to her, eyes searching for what she has to say, but she’s not looking at him, her gaze trained on the wag of Indy’s tail while her fingers tap over his on her leg, the hand in his hair having stilled.

“What do you want to talk about, love?”

She looks at him then, the smallest of smiles on her face that comforts him the slightest bit, before directing her gaze to Brennan. “I don’t want to walk out of the hospital all made up hours after giving birth. Kudos to Abigail. She is a badass woman for that, but that’s not what I want. Andy doesn’t need to be exposed to so many people as a newborn. I don’t need to be all dressed up when I’ve just given birth. I don’t care about tradition when it comes to this. This is what I’m doing, and I really feel like it’s the first step in taking a stand about him not being some kind of public property.”

He didn’t know she felt that way about any of that, nearly every word she said news to him, but he gets it, supports it. If that’s what Emma wants for this, that’s what they’ll do. He’s never quite understood that tradition anyways, and he likes the idea of a more private celebration with just them and their families while Emma heals and they adjust to the terrifying process of being parents for the first time.

“I’m not sure we can do that, dear.”

“What?” His head snaps over to his dad, trying to process the words. “You literally just said that how we feel is more important than any duty we have.”

“But that we need to stick to the important traditions, yes. New family members are an important tradition.”

“Brennan,” Emma grits, her voice strained as she tries to keep it friendly, “I respect our family and all of the traditions we have, but I am not some kind of human machine who’s only here to produce babies. Yes, of course this is a big deal, but it’s a big deal for us as a personal family, not as some part of the institution. You can still put the sign up, make any and all announcements you want. Hell, I’ll release a picture if we have to, but all I’m asking is that we’re allowed to leave and travel home in peace.”

“I agree, dad. I mean, really. Of all of the things we break and bend, of all of the things we change, surely you can let this one thing go? It’s not hundreds of years ago where people are faking pregnancies and paternities to keep the line intact, which was ridiculous then. I think letting family be family is the most important thing, don’t you?”

“Aye, it’s just…you’ll have to forgive me.” Brennan runs his hand over his face, visibly warring something within himself, the lines on his face stressing. “You were right earlier when you said things are different now. These are not things that I really went through with you, not as prevalent as you. Emma, dear, I’m sorry. I don’t…I shouldn’t have ever considered making you do something you’re not comfortable with. I love you dearly, and you and Killian know what’s best here, not me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Emma says, getting up from the couch and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so that she can squeeze Brennan’s hand. “You are so brilliant, and you uphold this family so well. I know that I’m different, that it was difficult to accept me, but change can be good, you know?”

“I know.”

Brennan stays for a little while longer, hashing out a few more details with them before accepting a cup of tea and some food, finally listening to them talk about their holiday all the while scratching behind Indy’s ears, her eyes closed in bliss the entire time. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and he feels his shoulders loosen the longer the conversation goes on, Emma’s laughter and joyful voice sounding throughout the room. In the back of his mind, though, he keeps replaying the conversation, thinking of everything he said, everything they all said, and he’s amazed it all went as smoothly as it did, surprised that his father acquiesced to their private exit from the hospital so easily. He had no idea that Emma wanted that, and he wonders how long she’s been toying with the idea, how many late nights she’s spent worrying about bringing it up. He knows she didn’t just think of it now, that it wasn’t spur of the moment, and he tries to remind himself to ask her about it later, to make sure that there’s nothing else she’s hoarding inside.

She goes through enough, has gone through enough over the years, and she shouldn’t feel like she has to hold things back from him.

But he saves his thoughts for later, letting his dad leave and letting Emma take a nap, her eyes falling shut without her even laying down on the couch. He wakes her before she can get into too deep of a sleep, though, knowing that it’ll hurt her back, and helps her go upstairs to their room, ignoring the curses she’s muttering under her breath about him waking her up. While she sleeps, he goes downstairs to his office, answering emails and clearing out his inbox that he left alone while they were in Spain.

Summer is normally a slow time for them, June and July full of engagements while August is usually taken off to spend in Balmoral. Emma’s due in September, though, a few days after his birthday, and she’s not working after August begins. He is, though, doing his regular work and making a few short trips, making sure never to never travel more than three hours away in case he needs to be home.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things to do now, organizing his files and reviewing the financials for Kidding a Goal until Indy comes walking into his office, her nails clicking against the wood until she’s staring up at him with her mouth wide open, tongue practically falling out of her mouth. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past seven. He’s surprised she didn’t come and get him two hours ago.

“You ready to eat, my girl?”

That gets her tail wagging before she takes off, running toward the kitchen at such a pace that she’s probably there before he even gets up from his chair. Sure enough, she’s already waiting next to her bowl like the most well-behaved dog in the world, which is not something he expected when he and Emma decided to get a dog last year. But she’s done well, their training working most of the time, but Indy does have the tendency to lick his face when he’s sleeping. He’s not a fan of that.

But she’s his best bud and a constant companion on his runs, so it all evens out.

After feeding her, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, Emma wandering into the kitchen with sleep-rumpled hair and pillow streaks on her face, her pajama top falling off of one shoulder. She immediately heads toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some yogurt before settling down on a barstool.

“How’d you sleep?”

She grunts in response, opening her yogurt and eating a large spoonful. “I hate being pregnant sometimes.”

“So not well then?”

“Nope. I felt like my guts were all being squeezed out, but do you know who’s not moving now that I’m awake and out of bed?”

“Andy.”

“Yep.”

She keeps eating her yogurt, quickly finishing it up before getting another carton. He should probably fix something for dinner so she doesn’t consume the entire yogurt supply in their fridge.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling her spoon out of her mouth and looking up at him, her hair deflating the slightest bit from when she came down.

“You want to tell me what that was earlier? With my dad. When did you decide you didn’t want to do the public announcement?”

“Oh, um, I first thought about it a few weeks ago, but it was really driven home after last week. Why? You have an issue with it?”

“No,” he laughs, leaning down across from her and propping his elbows on the counter. “I think it’s bloody brilliant, that you are brilliant. I like that you want to do things your way…our way. It’s very sexy.” “Oh boy, if you’re looking to get laid right now that is not happening.”

“Well damn. Now I have no reason to compliment you.”

“Shut up,” she groans, tossing her spoon over into the sink, the metal clanking. “But seriously, you’re okay with all that, right?”

“Of course. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“Damn right. I think I’m going to give your dad a heart attack though.”

“Aye, definitely. I know he’s trying and he’s being accommodating, but I could practically see the fear of breaking traditions rolling off of him in anxiety-filled waves. But he’s seventy-three. Some things just aren’t going to change.”

“So basically we hit the jackpot today?”

“Yep.” He walks over to the fridge, opening it up and seeing what they have left over from before they left. “What do you want for dinner?”

-/-

“Bloody buggering hell,” he curses, bringing his thumb to his mouth and soothing where he just jammed his finger on the wood.

Building a crib should not be this difficult, but it apparently is. He’s been following the instructions exactly, making sure that each piece is doubly secure, and he’s not sure how it’s taking this long. He should be finished, this crib should be made, and he should be able to move onto the shelves or Emma’s glider that she was insistent on them getting.

He’s spent more time in this room in the past month than he has in any other room in the house, June somehow running away with itself all while he’s been hidden away within these four walls. It took a month and a half for he and Emma to decide on a simple light gray, one that he’s pretty sure is also in their bedroom, but honestly, once they both agreed on the color (likely because they have agreed on it once before), he wasn’t going to say anything else. He did pick out the gray-ish blue that’s on the wall with the shelves (or at least where they’ll go once he gets to them), so he’s pretty proud of it.

Neither he or Emma are much one for designing, though they have gotten a bit more into it since the remodel of the apartment, but he’s pretty proud of how Andy’s room is shaping up, even if the lad will stay in the bassinet in their room for awhile. It’s a simple room, clean lines and clean colors. All of the furniture are different shades of white and warm browns, woods really, with natural accents. Abigail gifted them a large wooden giraffe along with some leaf and animal prints, so those are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed after all of this furniture is built.

His favorite part, though, is definitely going to be the little sitting area by the shelves and the changing table. He’s not under any impression that this is going to be a calm room, a place to relax, but he figures there have to be times when he’s rocking Andy back to sleep in that very spot, the shelves filled with colorful children’s books that’ll become routine reading one day as well as being filled with several stuffed animals and photo frames that he can’t wait to update with pictures. Of course, the cabinets below will be filled with the essentials, the things no one likes to talk about like diapers and nipple cream (that was something Emma did not want to know about, and he honestly doesn’t blame her), but they’re definitely still in the dreamy, picture perfect nursery phase where the messiness of a child isn’t quite a factor.

Really to him, as much as he knows this is real, as much as he sees the physical proof, feels the physical proof (which holy shit is it incredible to be able to feel his son move), it’s still difficult for him to comprehend that in two months he and Emma will have a child. It’s something they’ve talked about for years, something they were planning on, but it’s difficult to put into words just how much love he has for his son.

And his wife.

She’s a rockstar in every sense of the word, and if he doesn’t mention it enough, Emma sure as hell will. He loves her fiercely, and that love is another thing that he can’t quite put into words. He honestly doesn’t understand men who moan and groan about their wives constantly. If anything, he finds it disgusting. Yes, you’re going to have disagreements with your significant other. That’s natural when you decide to spend your life with someone who has their own wants, needs, and opinions, but at the end of the day, his wife is his best friend. If there’s anyone he wants to spend time with, it’s her. No question.

If the answer to who your best friend isn’t your spouse or the person you’re marrying, he doesn’t understand why the hell you’d bother getting married. His mates are great, but they’re not Emma.

Maybe he is a bit of the cheeseball that Emma always claims him to be, but he likes it that way.

He’s definitely going to embarrass his kids. All of the time. He can’t wait. He’s got a few years, but he can’t wait.

“You know we can hire someone to do this, right?” Emma asks, a bit of laughter in her tone that makes him roll his eyes. His best friend, most definitely. The teasing is just a small part of that.

“Aye, but I’ve started it, and I intend on finishing it.” “Okay, but the crib doesn’t need to fall apart while there’s a baby inside of it, and the glider doesn’t need to fall apart while I’m sitting on it. That’s, like, a double disaster, and I know you lived by yourself for a long time, but I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of that anymore.”

“Oh, really? Because I was just going to make them as unsafe as possible so that I could live by myself again. I miss being able to stretch out in the bed.”

“You’re so funny,” she teases from the other side of the nursery where she’s putting away the washed clothes in the closet, organizing them by size. He swears they have enough clothes to last Andy for the first two years of his life, and that’s not counting the piles of things he knows David and Mary Margaret have at their house. “I think I may have bought him too much stuff. I don’t even think I own this many things.”

“You don’t mess your clothes up multiple times a day.”

“Good point.”

“I tend to make those.”

“Eh. Debatable.”

“Not at all debatable.” He turns back to the crib, looking at the instructions to see if he can remember where he left off before Emma distracted him. “Shit, this is impossible.”

“I can call my dad, babe. It won’t be a problem. He’s a bit handier than you.”

“Please, I am plenty handy.”

“Okay, well being handy with me is not the same as being handy when it comes to building things.”

“If we call your dad, he’s going to take over. I want to do some of this myself.”

“I will tell Dad just to help. Come on, babe, you love spending time with my dad.”

“Only now that he doesn’t give me the scary speeches anymore.”

“Yeah, I bet those were a lot of fun.”

“I mean, it’s been a solid half a decade since I’ve gotten one, but he still shakes me to my core.”

He hears Emma laugh, snort really, before she makes her way over to him, slowly settling down on the floor next to him and waving her hand until he gives her the instructions. She looks over them while looking at the crib, her eyes continuously darting between the two.

“You put part G in backwards. That’s why nothing after that is fitting.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses, reaching over and taking the instructions from her hand and checking to see if she really did just solve his problem, “how did you see that when I’ve been staring at it for the past hour?”

“Fresh eyes, my love. Fresh eyes.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek before falling back against the wall. “And that’s exactly why calling my dad and asking him to come over in the morning will be a great idea. I bet Mom will want to come too, and she does a mean job with a power drill.”

So Emma calls her parents who agree to come over in the morning. On top of moving, they’ve also begun to change around the hours of the pub, opening it earlier and letting Will close it out at night. And it’s because of this that they show up at eight in the morning, he and Emma both still asleep when their doorbell rings. Emma groans when she hears it, burying her face into his chest and making it impossible for him to get up without disturbing her. He can feel Andy summersaulting around in her belly, and he smiles to himself knowing that she’s going to have get up. She can’t sleep when he’s moving around like that.

He can’t sleep when Emma’s basically running marathons in bed, but that’s not something he’s going to voice out loud. He can get up and sleep in a guest room if he needs to. Emma can’t get up and walk away from the person who’s running marathons in her stomach.

There’s two human feet inside of her. That’s pretty weird if he thinks about it too much.

Okay, so really weird.

Slowly but surely he gets out of bed, letting Emma flip over into his spot, and heads downstairs to open the front door. David and Mary Margaret have a key, but they never use it, always waiting for either he or Emma to open the door for them, which he appreciates after one too many times having them walk in on he and Emma.

“Hi,” he greets, opening the door and ushering them inside. “Emma’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. Do you guys want some breakfast?”

“We ate at home, sweetie,” Mary Margaret greets, giving him a quick hug before David does the same. “So Emma said you guys were having some issues in the nursery.”

“I believe that it was more like Killian not being able to put together a crib in under three weeks.”

“So funny, Dave,” he bites, rolling his eyes and locking the door. “I did eventually figure it out. I just think this mid-July heat is obviously getting to me. Or maybe nerves. I’m not too sure.”

“Well, let’s go help then. We’ve got to be at the pub at two, but I think we should be able to get things done.”

After he fixes himself some coffee, not nearly as wide awake as David and Mary Margaret, they head upstairs and begin working in the nursery, assembling the shelves and drilling them into the walls in half the time that it would have taken he and Emma had they done this by themselves. So maybe help isn’t all bad. Before Emma even wakes up, they have the shelves installed and pictures securely nailed on the wall. There are books already being stacked, stuffed animals and knick knacks being placed, and all of the fun nipple creams and breast pumps being placed in the cabinet.

They’re working on the glider when Emma finally wanders in, her hair falling out of its band so that half of it spills down her back while the other half is piled on top of her head, and she’s got her glasses on, something she only does when her eyes feel too puffy to put her contacts in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets, finishing tightening the screw he’s working on before getting up to embrace Emma. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough today. I think the little dude’s a giant or something because he crushes my lungs and my bladder at the same time. So I can’t breathe, and I have to pee. So, yeah, it’s fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dad. It looks fantastic in here. You guys have done so much. I feel like we’re not going to have anything to do in the next two months if we finish all of this.”

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, covering her mouth, “I know. Mom, do you want to come and rest with me in my room? My back hurts today, and I just can’t sit on the floor in here with you guys.” “Of course, hon,” Mary Margaret answers, walking away from the closet and stepping over to Emma before she rubs up and down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want Killian to join you? David and I would be fine to work on our own.”

“No, it’s fine. I bug him all day, and I’m kind of thinking that you can paint my toes for me or we can watch movies or something. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

“Text me if you need me, love,” he tells Emma, his eyes tracing over her in a bit of concern. It’s difficult watching her be uncomfortable or miserable on some days when he literally can’t do anything about it.

“Yeah, babe, I will.”

Emma and Mary Margaret walk out of the room, their voices fading away as they walk into their bedroom one room over, and he’s left with just David who promptly gets back to work finishing building the chair. Music plays in the background, an eighties’ playlist he thinks, and it doesn’t take longer before the chair is completely together and he’s sitting in it testing it out. It’s comfortable, probably one of the best seats they have in the house, and he can definitely understand why Emma insisted on this one after shopping around a bit.

“How does someone so small have so much stuff?”

“My child is twenty-eight years old, we don’t even live in her childhood home anymore, and I swear things of hers still pop up all of the time.”

“That’s likely because Emma leaves everything all over the place.”

He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth while Cherry Bomb plays in the background, which is definitely not a nursery appropriate song. Or maybe it is. Who needs Mozart when you can have The Runaways?

“So is Emma like that every day?”

“Like what?” he asks, popping an eye open to look at David who’s sitting against the shelves, which can’t be good for his back. God, how old is he getting if his first concern is for someone else’s back?

“Exhausted.”

“No, not every day. She’s usually got a hell of a lot of energy, even if there’s always a nap. I think she had a restless night. She’ll tell me like it is, though. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll let us know.” “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a baby crushing my lungs and my bladder.”

“True,” David laughs, running his hands through his short hair. Killian swears it’s gotten more gray in the past year, the blonde nearly disappearing. David is only fifty-two, so he’s not exactly older. Hell, if it weren’t for the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray hairs outnumbering the blonde, he’d look much younger. “But I remember being a dad for the first time. It’s terrifying, so you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I am. It’s…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear, his hair getting long enough that he knows he needs to get a haircut soon. “Emma and I try to make sure that we keep up our normal routines, that we have our normal conversations without talking too much about the baby, but it’s kind of hard, you know? It’s like we’ll be talking about going out to eat and two minutes later we’re making a list of middle names or speculating if he’s going to look more like me or Emma.”

“I know. But it’s an exciting time, Killian. There will never be anything like it, and if you want to talk about the fact that you’re having a kid, you should. You and Emma have been together for so long, and I really don’t think your relationship is going to struggle if you’re not sitting around making references no one else understands for hours on end.”

“Oi,” he protests, resisting the urge to pick up the toy elephant next to him and throw it at David, “that is your daughter you’re mocking, and she can still kick your ass.”

“Trust me, I know. Who do you think raised her to be like that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“You’re walking a thin line.”

He winks at David, his lips ticking up on the right into a smirk. “I know. You and Mary Margaret did such a good job, still do such a good job, and even with all of the times you’ve messed up – ”

“ – which is a lot more often than even Emma has probably told you.”

“I just…you’re a good dad, Dave. To Emma, to me. I hope I can do half as good as a job.”

“You’ll be great, Killian.” David smiles at him, something genuine, and Killian’s reminded of how much David really has impacted his life in all of the best ways. “I promise. And as much as I love you, I do love my little girl more, and she’s going to be amazing. She’s always…she’s never been too open to a lot of people, but the people she loves, she loves so fiercely, you know? And she’s already doing so well at being a mom. She’ll call me at nights, and I can just hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. At the end of the day, that’s all you want, you know? For your kid to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how happy he is. “Also, how dare you imply that you love your own daughter more than me. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something special, man.”

“I can still give you hell. I’d watch yourself.”

He and David finish up in the nursery for the next few hours until David and Mary Margaret have to go to work, leaving after the three of them eat lunch down in the kitchen, Emma staying upstairs for a nap. When the Nolans are gone and he’s finished eating, he heads upstairs, bypassing the nursery and walking into their bedroom where Emma is sitting up on the bed watching TV.

“Your toes look nice,” he compliments, grabbing onto her big toe and moving it back and forth. “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, twisting onto her back and scooting up the bed, “it’s just one of those days, you know? I’m not usually this miserable.”

“I know, but it’s okay to have bad days, love.”

“Come here,” she tells him, crooking her fingers and motioning toward him before she turns on her side and wraps her arms around her pillow. He does as she asks, kicking off his sneakers and crawling up into the bed, the mattress moving against his weight until he’s pressed up behind her, his knee stuck between her thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist while the other rests above her head. This is how she’s been comfortable lately, and he can’t say he minds. “Did you guys get a lot done?”

“Aye, it’s almost all finished.” He moves her hair off of her neck, placing a kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder. “It just needs your finishing touches, I think.”

“And we have to unpack all of the boxes that are in the guest room and put them away in the closet.” “That too, but we’ve got time, Emma.” She hums, and he can feel the vibrations as well as Andy moving around under his touch, the movements following how he taps his fingers. “Has he been active today?”

“Not since I woke up, but he always responds to your voice.” “Yeah, he recognizes me?”

“Of course, you talk so damn much. How could he not?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her jaw, biting a bit just to tease her. “You are not a very nice woman, my love.”

“Oh please, I’m, like, the seventh nicest person you know.”

“Seventh?”

“I figured it was conceited to put me at number one.”

“Possibly.” He moves his hand against her stomach again, snaking his fingers up under her pajama top so that he can feel the warmth of her skin. “So he really does get more active when I talk?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird to think about, but it’s true. He likes when you talk. I think it’s because you’re a much better story teller than me.” “I mean, obviously.”

“And that he’s probably just glad to hear someone else besides me. Imagine being stuck with someone for nine months. Good God.”

“Well, I’m stuck with you for forever. Good God.”

She groans and curses him under his breath before she scoots over and turns in his arms, slowly but surely moving to face him. “Don’t be an asshole. Also, so I was talking to mom today, and she wants to be called Mimi. I think Dad wants to be called Papa, which I like as long as that’s not what you want. I know that’s what some kids call their dads.”

“Aye, it’s what Lizzie calls Liam, which is weird since Alex doesn’t do that. But I’m okay with dad or daddy, so David can be called Papa.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it. Mimi and Papa. And then your parents are Gammy and Grandpa, right? That’s what Alex and Lizzie call them.”

“Aye, but I know Mom didn’t want to be Gammy. It’s just what happened. She says it makes her feel old.”

“Your mom is not old.”

“I know, but considering your parents are barely fifty while my parents are in their sixties and seventies, it doesn’t help.”

“I’ll tell my parents to get older then.”

He smiles at her before closing his eyes and settling into his pillow, letting his head sink down into the softness. It’s calming in here, the lights turned off and curtains closed while the ceiling fan hums a steady rhythm above them. He could fall asleep like this even if he’s not the biggest fan of naps, always somehow ending up groggy when he wakes up, and it doesn’t help with the way that Emma is playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers scratching into his scalp.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

He pops an eye open, looking at Emma and smiling when her nail hits a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. “Aye, I’ve got the Investiture ceremony at ten. Why?”

“Just wondering. I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just us. Maybe take Indy to Berkshire and let her run around, spend some time outside.” “We can do it in the afternoon, if you want. I think the weather is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning forward and sliding her lips over his for a brief moment, “I think that would be nice.”

The next day after he’s finished with the ceremony, he hurries home, changing out of his suit and into shorts and a t-shirt, slipping a baseball cap onto his head and grabbing something to eat for lunch while Emma does the same, her hair falling out of the back of her hat in a long ponytail. They’ve got all day, but the afternoon’s weather is pleasant enough that he’d like to go now so they can stop by a café for dinner, even if that’s the absolute last thing that Thomas will want them to do.

They want their privacy, but they should be able to go out to dinner.

So he and Emma load up into his car, letting Indy sit in the backseat with the window rolled down so she can feel the mid-July breeze blow through her fur. It doesn’t take long to get to Windsor, pulling into their parking garage less than thirty minutes later, and instead of going inside like they’d usually do, he hooks Indy up to her leash while Emma grabs some water bottles and they head to the private gardens, avoiding the visitors wandering around on tours.

As much as he prefers the spring, mild July days are near the top of his list of favorite things. Everything is brighter, more pleasant. The grass is actually greener, the flowers contrasting against their background to create a landscape of whites and shades of purple, while everything is covered in a clear blue sky, only a few white clouds scattered throughout. New life blooms, and he gets to be the one to appreciate it, to revel in it. England can be so dreary sometimes, the weather somehow reflecting the moods of most people on their morning commute to work, so he appreciates when it’s not. He’s always loved the outdoors, and if there’s any complaint he has about his home, it’s the small private garden that they have to themselves. He’d like something larger, more space to run around, and sometime in the future, he and Emma plan to spend more time in Bucklebury so that they have the privacy.

That’s what they’ve decided on since returning from Spain last month. There’s been more lengthy, draining discussions with his parents and their security team than he’s ever wanted, and as much as he feels like they haven’t really accomplished anything, he knows it’s a slow process. Of course, there are drawbacks to every positive. They’re still going to have to spend most of their time at Kensington. It’s closer to their work, to their families. Hell, Emma’s parents just bought a house so that they could have the ability to spend time with their grandchild, and now they’re going to move away from them. It’s less than an hour drive, but it’s not nearly as close as they currently are.

But everyone understands, and they don’t plan on moving any time soon, not until Andy’s a bit older. They want to be near all of their loved ones when he’s younger, and they’ve spent so much time working on their home, making it exactly how they want. It’d be difficult to leave full time, so it’ll be nice to have the option of both.

It’ll be even nicer to give Andy the most normal life that they can possibly give him.

Emma whistles next to him, her fingers between her lips, while Indy runs back to them from where they let her loose. She was about five seconds away from jumping into a pond full of fish, and as much as they’d usually let her swim, they don’t need to have a wet dog with them for the rest of the day. So she runs back to them as quickly as she can, her legs leaping in the air with her black and white fur bouncing the slightest bit. He’s convinced that she shouldn’t be able to be that quick, but she’s still just a young dog, less than a year old, and though her legs will get longer, he doesn’t think she’ll ever be full of this much energy again.

If she is, he and Emma are definitely in over their heads.

With the dog.

He’s going to choose to not think of what it’ll be like with a toddler than can run and a dog that he can run after.

After she calms from her almost pond dive, Indy walks along in front of the two of them, occasionally wandering off the stone path to sniff around in the plants, nearly tearing up several flowers until they call her back to keep walking. They stay wandering for a little over two hours, not caring where exactly they’re going or if they’re circling back around in the same spots. Indy and Emma get tired around the same time, so they settle down onto a stone bench with a patio cover that’s next to another small pond.

In the distance, he can see the Chapel where they were married, the steeple rising up above the other buildings and stone walls, and he smiles to himself thinking of that day. In the grand scheme of things, he knows that when it comes to he and Emma, as important as it was, they had so many smaller, inconsequential days that he holds just as fondly in his heart.

But that was a pretty damn good day.

He stretches his arm out over the back of the bench, wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder and tangling his fingers into the ends of her ponytail while she leans her head on his shoulder, the bill of her hat hitting him in the chin for a brief moment. He’s glad she suggested them getting away from London for a little bit, for suggesting that they change up the routine and spend a day enjoying summer, especially since they’re missing out on Scotland with the rest of the family.

A month in the same place as everyone is likely a bit long, anyways. He loves his family, but that’s a lot for anyone.

“I love you, you know?” Emma asks out of nowhere, her gaze never falling away from the rippling of the water in front of them, a fish leaping up out of the water while the lily pads float around.

He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm and kissing her head even if she can’t feel it through the hat. “I know. I love you too.”

[cassiopeiassky]

Fly

I’m sad.  I wrote a thing.  Don’t read it if you don’t want the sads.

This idea first came to me about a year ago, right after I found out about @viollettes losing her battle with cancer.  I didn’t get the courage to actually write it until losing my mom in law last month, and now another friend from high school.  It’s a songfic - the song is Fly by Jars of Clay.  I’d link the video but I don’t have the energy to deal with Tumblr being a twat.

This is for JinAh, Maggie, and Mande.  Fly high, loves.  You live on forever in the hearts of those that had the luck to know and love you.

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1283

Warnings: character death, talk of cancer and dying.  Brief mention of thoughts of self harm.

Lyrics are italicized.

 Be still, let your hand melt into mine

The part of me that breathes when you breathe is losing time

I can’t find the words to say I’ll never say goodbye

The room is quiet save for the uneven breaths she struggles to take; there’s no more unending beeps or shrill alarms, no more whoosh and pulling velcro from the blood pressure cuff.  There’s no need for these things anymore.  The nurses come in periodically to give her a bit of morphine under the tongue, just to be sure she’s comfortable - and to check on him - but mostly they leave him alone.

They’re grieving, too.

She’s been in this hospice room for five weeks, and she’s already lived two weeks longer than expected.  It didn’t take long for her to make her mark. Bucky already knows how easy it is to love her; the nurses found it out the hard way. He supposes it’s an occupational hazard.

He gently traces the contours of her face one more time as he holds her close.  He moves his fingertips over her eyelids, remembering how they opened for the last time early yesterday morning.  Despite her exhaustion, despite the poison flowing through her body, he could still see her love for him in them.  Even cancer couldn’t steal that.

Bucky smiles.

Her lips, now dry and chapped, managed a smile and a mouthed “I love you” before her eyes slid closed.  Her voice left a few days earlier, but Bucky knows what she meant.  He suspected but didn’t know then that it would be the last time.  

He presses a kiss to her forehead and remembers.  He remembers when they first met, how he was so self assured as he sauntered over to her as she stood by the pool.  He was so utterly taken by her in the sight of that sundress that he completely lost his cool and gave her an absolutely terrible pickup line, one that in hindsight was totally inappropriate.  She calmly handed her friend her drink before spartan kicking his cocky ass into the pool.

“Yeah, I had that comin’” he laughed as he surfaced, and she cracked a smile.

“Yeah, you did.”  She hid her smirk behind her lemonade as he pulled himself out of the pool.

“That was awful, can I have a do over?”

He prayed as she tilted her head.  “You sure you want one?”

“Absolutely.”  He was already in love.

Even if Bucky knew then what he knows now, he wouldn’t have changed his answer. Even knowing how it would end, with his heart grinding itself into millions of tiny shards in the semi darkness of a room not their own, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Not a single thing.  Not one tiny moment.  She was the best part of his life.

I saw the host of silent angels waiting in their own

Knowing that all the promises of faith come alive when you see home

Hold still and let your hand melt into mine

 God, he doesn’t want her to go.  He’s even briefly thought about going with her, until she made him promise he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Define stupid,” he’d mumbled, trying to hide his desperation.

“You know what I mean,” she’d said sternly before pulling him close and kissing away the tears he couldn’t stop from spilling over.  “The world needs you, Babe.  You’re a good man, and there aren’t enough like you.  You’re needed here.”

“But I need you.”

“I’ll always be with you, Bucky.”  When he didn’t respond, she said, “Don’t you dare get all Twilight on me and do stupid shit so I have to come back and haunt your ass.”  That won a tearful chuckle, so she continued, “I have every intention of taking over as your guardian angel, so take it easy on me, okay?”

That was a while ago, back when they first found out for sure that the cancer was far more aggressive than any existing treatment.  Contemplating the reality of living without her isn’t any easier today than it was then, but a promise is a promise.

Besides, he’s pretty sure she’s gonna be okay, and that’s really what matters to Bucky.  He had a dream the night before last – he doesn’t generally believe in stuff like this, but he’ll hold onto this with every fiber of his being.  He dreamed that he was lying here with her when the door opened, and in walked a steady stream of people: his ma and dad, his siblings, the Howlies.  Peggy, not old and faded but young, bright and vibrant.  There were faces he didn’t know but they resembled Rebecca.  Others that resembled the woman lying in his arms were also there – Bucky recognized one from an old picture as a favorite uncle that was taken all too soon.

“We’ll take care of her, Jamie,” whispers a soothing voice he hasn’t heard in nearly a century.  His ma.

“And no one will be able to stop her from taking care of you,” murmurs another once cherished voice, soft and lilting.  Sarah, Steve’s ma.  “She’s a lot like you in that respect.”  She gazes at Bucky’s beloved, “She’s holding on for you, a leanbh.”

I’ll fly with you through the night so you know I’m not letting go

I’m not letting go

My tears like rain fill up the sky

Oh my love I’m not letting go, I won’t let you go

She fought so hard over the past year.  Fucking cancer.  Bucky had begged and pleaded to take her place – had done everything he could to support her fight.  He watched as it dulled her eyes, sapped her energy, ruined her skin, and confined her to a bed. Cancer took so much from her, but it never managed to steal her kindness, wit, or love.  It only sometimes overcame her stubbornness; Bucky actually believed she’d beat it, despite what the doctors said.  

But now, it’s time.  

“It’s okay to let go, Baby.  I love you so much, and I’ll carry you with me wherever I go.  I promise.  I’m gonna go to all those places we talked about, and eat the local foods you wanted to try.  I, uh, I still have the list in my wallet.  And I’ll see those shows on Broadway, the ones you always talked about.” Bucky tries so hard to keep it together, for her sake, but the idea of doing these things without her is unbearable. He’s still going to do them, though.   “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, but there’s some good people waiting for you, okay?”  His own choked whispers are broken and unrecognizable, but he knows she understands. She always did.

He doesn’t leave her side.  The breaths become few and far between, but her heart, her strong, steady, beautiful heart, stubbornly continues to beat.

“It’s okay, Baby.  You can let go.  You fought a brave battle, and it’s time for you to rest.  I love you.”  He repeats it over and over and over again until she sighs, and he whispers her name one more time as her body briefly stiffens.  He sobs as her heartbeat finally, grudgingly falters.

He almost can’t believe it.  Or won’t.

She’s gone.

His world is gone and everything hurts but she’s no longer in pain. The thought is a bandaid on a bullet wound, but he supposes it’s something.  He’d much rather it be him that hurts than her.

She’s peaceful now, and even though it’s supposed to be impossible he’ll swear to his last breath that he felt her lips graze his.

Shed your heart and your breath and your pain and fly

Now you’re alive

 Tagging: 

@hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult  @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest  @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire​  @learisa​ @widowvinter​  @kaaatniss ​ @ladylizzieofdarbyshire​ @denialanderror  @k-nighttt​ @givemethatgold​ @manders2487 ​ @afangirlrambles​ ​ ​ @polkadottedpillowcase​ @bluebrrn @saysay125​  @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky  @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508  @scarlettsoldier  @natalie-nightcourt  @im-beautifully-sewn  @lovemarvelousfics  @feistytravel  @tbetz0341  @nearly-whitches  @jamie-leah  @shliic  @dessinemoiunehistoire  @lucywinchester2000  @solarbarnes  @a-proper-chicken  @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety  @buckyywiththegoodhair

[emberprince]

Tag Meme

Tagged by: @lyricalwhirlwind

Star sign: Pisces

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs that pop up:

Six Degrees of Separation - The Script

Bad ft. Vassy - David Guetta & Showtek

Nightmares - All Time Low

Hello Seattle - Owl City

Grab the nearest book to you and turn to page 23, what line is 17? ‘...over him,” he said. He glanced up. There were a few clouds sliding...’

Ever had a poem written about you? Yes

When was the last time you played the air guitar? Probably a couple years ago? I feel like I do it more often than that but I don’t remember

One sound you hate and one you love: fuck you im adding more things that i love Hate: The sound my bird makes when he’s scared or in pain Love: Rain, cats purring, fire crackling, thunder, Finn’s voice :/

Do you believe in ghosts? I’m not sure, probably not

Do you believe in aliens? Yes

Do you drive and if so have you gotten in a crash? I drive every day. I haven’t gotten into a crash or gotten a ticket (yet).

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Noooo

Last movie you’ve seen? The Incredibles 2, literally just finished watching it on Netflix. if you mean in theatres then it was Spiderman Into the Spiderverse

Worst injury you’ve ever had? Probably when I broke my right arm, or my left wrist. I also got a concussion once; two out of three of those were sports-related injuries so that’s why I stopped playing

Do you have any obsessions rn? probably World of Warcraft... that’s been going on for years though.. I can’t really think of anything else astonishingly but I’m sure I’ll dive into something new soon

Do you hold grudges? Yeah when people really wronged me

In a relationship?

I wish lol

Tagging: @solarflarelight @fighting-memer @firstdove15 @something-phallic @adven-t @togekissesofgrace and anyone else who wants to do it