#yes I’m committed to the twins

[ejzah]

Could you do something where Mama Deeks finds out about Baby Densi and gets all emotional and tells Deeks what a good dad he'll be?

Despite All Odds

***

“And so I just told Ary that I’m not the kind of woman who has time to wait around while he figures out what he wants,” Roberta said as Deeks placed an opened beer in front of her on the patio table. Then he went to join Kensi at the other side of the table. “I’ve got things to with life that don’t involve dropping everything when that man remembers I exist.”

“I thought you went out on a date with him last week,” Deeks commented dryly. He’d decided that it was best to ignore whatever went on between Arkady Kolcheck and his mom for the sake of his own sanity.

“It was dinner at his place, and we were just catching up.” She paused a beat, straightening a glittering bracelet circling her left wrist. “Now, if he wants to give me family heirlooms to make up for leaving me hanging for months, and not even attempting to get in touch when I got back in town, that’s his own business.”

“That’s probably stolen,” Kensi predicted to Deeks in an aside.

“Oh, definitely,” he agreed.

They chatted for a few more minutes while they finished their dinner. After Deeks cleared their plates, replacing Roberta’s beer with a new one, and handing Kensi a Sprite.

“So,” he began, rubbing his hands over his thighs as he shared a nervous look. “We have something to tell you.”

“Oh, here it comes. Alright, who’s dying?” Roberta asked with a resigned air.

“What?” Deeks said in shock, shaking his head. “Why would you say that?”

“You invited my over here for dinner, you made my favorite meal.” She indicated herself and the table, continuing to list off points. “You’re both dressed up, and you’re all antsy as all hell. Clearly, you’re waiting to break some bad news.”

Resting a calming hand on Deeks’ shoulder, Kensi turned to face Roberta. “Roberta, no one is sick or dying,” she assured her.

“We actually have good news for a change,” Deeks said. With an anticipatory sigh, he retrieved a box from underneath the loveseat. “Actually, we thought this was the best way to tell you.”

Roberta took the box reluctantly, eyeing them suspiciously as she tugged the ribbon on top free. “Now, if a trick snake pops out of this, I’m not—” she broke off, speechless for a second, lifting out a tiny light blue onesie" “Grandma loves me,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, fixing them with a look of disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m pregnant,” Kensi confirmed, reaching across the table to squeeze Roberta’s hand as it started to tremble.

“Um, that’s not all.” Deeks jutted his chin towards the box.

She pulled out a second identical onesie. “Oh my god, twins!” Her shut was loud enough to carry over several house, and both Kensi and Deeks grinned. “Oh, get over here, kiddo,” Roberta said, rounding the table to hug them, the two onesies still clutched in one hand.

“Congratulations, you two. You know I never stopped rooting for you.”

“I know. Thanks, mama,” Deeks murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Roberta. We’re really happy too.”

Roberta gave Deeks an extra hug, smoothing her hands over his cheeks. He expected to see delight, but instead he saw melancholy in her eyes.

“Mom, are you ok?”

She drew back, avoiding their gaze while she found her seat again. Kensi looked just as confused as he felt.

“You know, when you were a little boy, I was always wished that I could give you a better life,” she began softly. This was a version of Roberta that people rarely saw; the softer, more vulnerable, less more open. “I worried about how it would affect the man you would become some day.” She paused and smoothed her hands over the onesies on her lap, freeing a few wrinkles from the fabric. “I worried I hadn’t done enough. I worried that you’d never find the happiness I wanted for you.”

“Mama…” Deeks said, shattered by the ache in her voice. Kensi took his hand; he heard her sniff quietly.

“But you proved me wrong in all of it. I don’t say it enough, but you’ve made me so,” she swallowed thickly. “So proud. You’re strong, and kind, and intelligent, and a the biggest protector. Always were. And maybe more stubborn than even me when it comes to doing the right thing. Somehow, you defied all the odds and came out the other side despite all my mistakes.”

“Hey, Mom, I’ve said before, none of that was your fault,” he said, needing her to believe him. He couldn’t let this guilt, his dad’s actions continue to bleed into their lives. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You did good. Ok?”

Roberta nodded again, not resisting when Deeks crouched in front of her, and embraced her again.

“These babies are going to be damn lucky to have you. Just like Rosa is, because you’re one hell of a dad,” she said through tears. She reached over to take Kensi’s hand as she gripped Deeks’ shoulder.

***

A/N: I hope this is alright. I wanted to delve into the more emotional and angsty aspects, but also wanted it to be a happy moment as well. I hope I conveyed that.

Thanks for the prompt, friend!

[tanoraqui]

as a secret fan of the trope “immortal being imprints on family but is initially 1 or more generations off from their actual Destined Romance in it, leading to tragic problems”, and an even bigger fan of relationships (romantic or otherwise) which are wildly awkward for everyone except the happy couple, I think it’d be great, actually, if:

Idril and Tuor decide to have another child at some point, really any time in the Second Age or later (just one, though—living in Aman is already kinda straining Tuor’s fëa; he’s fine, but parenting a half-elf is…a lot)

The Choice of Peredhil is innate, actually, though only for one generation out unless complicated by Maia blood. Their daughter (Name TBD) chooses to be an Elf with no hesitation—save 1 Man kept alive by dint of Ulmo being clingy a loyal friend and patron, everyone she knows are Elves, or Ainur! Why would she want to leave her family, friends and home?

Shortly after Maeglin gets out of Mandos (which takes longer than anyone in the family but the Fëanorians), they meet in circumstances wherein neither realizes who the other is, familially speaking, and nor does either introduce themselves properly

They almost just straight-up elope, but NameTBD Idriliel decides at the last moment that she really would like to introduce him to her parents first, and she to be introduced to his. Possibly all at once?

(Maeglin either genuinely thinks she knows who he is or by some contrivance fails to tell her between the proposal of this meeting and the meeting itself. Either way, he fully intends to introduce himself fully to her parents, and he has no intention of marrying this maiden whom he loves without her knowing his identity and dark first life.)

Absolutely nobody, including Maeglin, is adequately forewarned

Chaos ensues

[dontmiindme]

For some reason I am unable to draw so take some unposted art from not tonight mostly

my art brain broke and im upset about it >:(

[citricacidprince]

Could you draw that "I trust you" scene with Mabel and Stan but with the relativity AU? (The stan twins and pine twins swap ages au)

OF COURSE, I WILL GLADLY DRAW THEM!!! 💥💥💥

I’m gonna post a long winded thesis about my thoughts on this AU, my take on the AU, and two additional arts under the cut because ooooh boy it’s a tad bit long lol. Also, please please forgive the formatting, I’m writing this all on the fly and it’s extremely disjointed, sorry- 💥

I know there’s the ‘canon’ Relativity AU designs and character dynamics, however I don’t really like them that much ngl. I feel like it mostly just ends up with ‘Mabel and Dipper get switched with Stan and Ford with no nuances once so ever’ and that BLOWS!!! There’s so much potential there and no one is playing with it!! YOU GUYS DON’T EVEN HAVE MABEL PRETENDING TO BE DIPPER, WHATS THE POINT????

Not only that but I feel like making Dipper and Mabel’s dynamic just Ford and Stan’s when they’re adults is a HUGE simplification of their characters. Like, Mabel and Dipper fight, but they don’t fight like Stan and Ford, they’re not as hard headed and stubborn. Mabel would commit some crimes yes, but I don’t believe she would get into some of the heavy shit Stan had in his past. I refuse to believe Mr. Dipper ‘Undiagnosed Anxiety Disorder’ Pines would fall for Bill’s flattery as easily as Ford did.

The Pines Twins are very different from the Mystery Twins. Mabel and Dipper didn’t grow up with a father constantly comparing the two and pinning them against each other, outright telling one kid they’ll always be a failure while the other is going to have the burden of making their family rich. They never had that tension. They wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around eachother as adults.

I know that makes the concept sound boring to some, ‘Where’s the fun in the AU if you take away the sibling fighting’. You cowards, you can still have it, young Stan and Ford are RIGHT THERE. During the second half of the show when Dipper comes back through the portal, instead of having the older set of twins, something that doesn’t male sense with their characters, have a building tension that’s going to explode soon and keep it between Stan and Ford, don’t take it away from them. If anything, I think taking away the resentment and anger growing between the two and giving it to Mabel and Dipped is a butchering of all the characters.

Sure that means some of the episodes would have to change or be completely erased, but that’s fine!!! Make up some new ones!!! Get silly with it!!!

Mabel and Dipper talk about feelings, Stan and Ford don’t. Mabel and Dipper can’t stay mad at each other, Stan and Ford will try and stay mad for decades because being angry is easier than being upset.

In my idea of this AU that fight at the end of Weirdmageddon HAS to be between Stan and Ford, and Stan HAS to still be the one getting his memories erased.

💥 Post Not-What-He-Seems Relativity AU Rambling Below 💥

Dipper is a paranoid man, fool him once you’re never going to fool him again. He would never in a million years ever work with Bill again. Ford however is an extremely lonely child, both he and his brother are desperate for any type of positive attention. I think Bill would see him as a potential protege, especially since Ford is a ‘freak’ like he is and the kid is extremely smart for his age. He’s malleable, Bill probably thinks he could shape him uo to be the perfect lackey.

Ford, being the lonely kid he is, probably does fall for the praise initially. He craves attention and Bill pushes all the right buttons and says all the right words, tries and gains his trust even if time has proven again and again that he shouldn’t be trusting the demon.

The tension between the Stan Twins would grow after Grunkle Dipper comes back because Ford is upset that Stan didn’t listen to him (even if it was for the best that he did) and that Grunkle Dipper forgave Graunty Mabel so easily because if Ford was in those shoes he wouldn’t have. It grows more and more as Ford becomes distant and Stan tries to connect with his brother to no avail. Which, of course, comes to a boiling point when Ford says he’s going to stay in Gravity Falls and learn under Grunkle Dipper. Stan is rightfully upset. He can’t go back to New Jersey by himself. It’s always just been the two of them, he needed Ford, he couldn’t handle school or their father by himself. He can’t be alone.

Unlike Mabel who just wanted one more day of summer, Stan wishes that he wouldn’t be alone, which indirectly causes Weirdmaggendon.

Stan’s prison bubble would probably be a fake New Jersey-esc town full of a bunch of little Stan running around. Town O’ Stan. A place where no Stan is left behind.

Ford says some nice words to Stan there to get him outta there but there is still this intense tension between the two.

During the Cipher Wheel Ford is the one who tackles Stan. The two fight, whining out hurtful words neither of them mean and only stop when Bill shows up and captures them. Graunty Mabel and Grunkle Dipper run off and distract Cipher in hopes that they can keep the attention on themselves long enough that their great nephews could come up with a plan to escape.

The younger twins don’t find a way out and instead, finally, have an actual talk about their feelings, one that definitely ends up in tears as the two talk about the pressure that’s put on them or how worthless they feel. After that the boys get a rush of determination to escape when Stanley has a plan. Ford immediately hates the plan but Stan insists that they do it, in his own words, ‘Let me prove I can do something right for once.’

When Bill comes back and threatens to kill either Mabel or Dipper just for the hell of it, Ford calls out that he’d like to make a deal.

He wants to work with Bill, let Bill into his mind willingly. Bill immediately jumps on that offer. Ford is a promising young kid, perfect henchmaniac potential, not to mention it would absolutely devastate Dipper is his great nephew willingly turned to Bill’s side.

He goes into Ford’s head, revealing Stanley just in time to reveal that he was trapped, panicking as he was erased with a swift left-hook along with a kid who was happy to prove he was good for something after all.

Everyone was devastated after Weirdmaggedon of course, a child had his mind completely wiped. Stanford took it the worst, he just managed to finally break down those words that others built in his head, that he was too good for Stanley or that he didn’t need a knucklehead like him dumbing down his brain, and now his brother was gone. Just like that.

We all know what happens after this, Stan gets his memory back, everyone celebrates and the Stan twins are sent home, promising each other that they’ll never let anyone try and tear them apart ever again. Dipper and Mabel stay at the shack, after all, all they could ever want is there, where else could they possibly go?

Sorry this was… extremely rambly and long, I am extremely tired and can’t think straight I have a bunch more ideas and concepts so if anyone’s desperately wants to hear them just ask I guess, sorry you read this dumb of ass essay haha 💥

[piningforstan]

Memories

Summary: You’re relieved to see your husband alive, but you have yet to learn at what cost.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: it’s angsty, the Pines are sad and not okay, memory loss, brief mention of a miscarriage

A/N: If I was a better person and had more time I would totally write a fic about this. This oneshot initially had a happy ending but it seemed right to end it where I did. Let me know if you’d want to read a happy ending, though! (Also I apologize for any inaccuracies)

Couldn’t the apocalypse have happened when your joints didn’t protest at every movement? You thought disdainfully back to your youth, when every step wasn’t hindered by bursts of shooting pain. The rumination was cut short, however, when the front door of the shack swung open.

In your time with Stan, with the shack, it had taken many forms. Becoming a giant fighting robot hadn’t been in your plans but it formed a shelter of sorts for survivors, somewhere mostly untainted with bad memories.

Dipper burst into the used-to-be foyer, followed by Mabel.

You called out their names. You’d been left behind to preside over the Shack-bot and cater to the injured — there hadn’t been time to worry about your loved ones but now that you’re watching the twins run across the room to you, you realize that there had been a significant knot in your stomach that was now loosening with relief.

“You’re alive! You’re okay!” You swept them into an embrace, pressing their bodies to you. God, they were just children.

“Grauntie —” Dipper started.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You studied their round faces, the streaks of tears cutting through the dirt on their cheeks. Using a thumb, you did your best to wipe away Mabel’s but Dipper slipped away.

“Grauntie, we have to tell you something—”

“Where’s Stan? And Ford? Are they okay?”

“Yes, well,” Dipper started to stammer. Mabel erupted into tears, holding the oversized sleeves of her sweater to her eyes to absorb them.

You glanced between the two twins, heart hammering in your chest. The moment wad broken by the sound of footsteps. Stan stepped into the remnants of the Mystery Shack, steered with a gentle hand by Ford. An unimaginable amount of relief flooded you. Stan, of course, was always in the forefront of your mind, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to think of anything devastating happening.

You wouldn’t — couldn’t — live without him. You refused. So you simply believed that he was safe.

And now here he was, suit torn and battered but still as devastatingly handsome as the day you met him. The protests from Dipper and Mabel faded away much like those of your joints; Stan made you feel young, breathed life into an otherwise greying existence. You untangled yourself from the twins and shot for the front door where he stood.

Ford inserted himself between you, mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear a thing. You just needed to get to Stan. Needed to feel his arms around you, the smell of his cologne (he mostly just rubbed on magazine samples, but you didn’t care). You sidestepped Ford and launched yourself at Stan, tears already overspilling onto your cheeks.

He staggered back a bit, catching himself on the doorframe as you tightly embraced him. Unable to contain your joy you grabbed him by either side of his stubbled face and kissed him.

Only a few seconds passed before Stan’s large hands were entrapping your wrists, pulling you from him. His eyes darted back and forth, and he wore an uneasy smile.

“Well, uh, that’s one way to introduce yourself,” he said.

Later, in hindsight, you recognized the signal going off in the back of your mind that something was wrong. But in that moment you’re completely consumed with happiness and relief and that must just be one of his jokes you don’t understand. “I can think of others but they probably wouldn’t be socially acceptable.”

The uneasy smile faltered. He laughed but it’s brittle and not fully committed. “You’re bold, I like that.”

Stan’s gaze flickered to Ford, as if for assurance.

Ford’s expression was grim, jaw clenched. “I need to speak with you privately —”

“Come on, let’s get you patched up and grab a drink.” You linked your arm through Stan’s and marched him towards the kitchen. He obliged but seemed reluctant, which you chalked up to fatigue. “Here. I’ll get everything. You sit.”

You stopped at Stan’s hideous yellow chair that you were secretly fond of. He stared at it. Then you.

“Here?” He asked. You don’t miss the way that he examined the room like he’s seeing it for the first time, lingering over the empty fish tank and the giant fossilized skull.

“I promise I didn’t let anyone get their blood on it or anything,” you said. You’re yapping now. Why were you yapping? It’s like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, aware of the danger but not wanting to yield to the warnings. “I knew you were coming back. I couldn’t get rid of you that easily, right?”

You waited for him to reply. Stan’s face spasmed, uncomfortable, his arms stiff at his sides. You couldn’t remember a time you had ever seen him like this, unsure and quiet and reserved. You opened your mouth to prompt him to sit once again — what are you doing, silly? — when Dipper, Mabel, and Ford slid into view. Their eyes were wide, panicked, bouncing from you to Stan.

Hysteria crept into your tone. “What’s with this guy? Where’s the man I married?”

“Married?” Stan echoed. This is the first thing you’ve said to actually get a reaction from him.

Ford said your name. “Why don’t you come with me and let Stan rest?”

“Is this a joke? What’s going on?”

Mabel, cheeks blotchy, blurted, “Stan lost his memory! He doesn’t remember us. Any of us.” She dissolved into tears again.

A wave of numbness crashed over you. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you —” Ford stopped, recollected himself. He looks older than you remember him, like whatever happened had aged him faster than natural. “Stan sacrificed himself. To defeat Bill. He gave up all of his memories for…us.”

Stan looked entirely uncomfortable with this situation and all of the weeping.

“What?” You said again. You suddenly felt like a cassette tape that’d been unspooled, and now you’re trying desperately to collect the film, gathering it in your arms to shove back inside the shell.

“It was his idea. It was…the only way,” Ford said. Even his voice was strained with emotion.

You blinked. And blinked again.

“Stan is that true?” You wheeled to face him, still clinging to the hope that this is some elaborate prank. Your grasp on any sanity slipped as you looked at your husband of over thirty years and saw nothing reflected in his face.

There was none of his child-like exuberance. His impish smile, always teetering on the edge of saying something absurd or inappropriate. The softness in his eyes whenever you’re speaking to him. It was as if you were staring into a shallow puddle, no ripples at the surface, no amount of recognition to be stirred upon from the bottom.

Something inside you cracked.

“Stan?” You reached a hand out to touch him. He let you, but it was almost worse that way. It was a gesture of kindness and nothing more; he knew you were upset and he didn’t know why but he knew that he was partly the reason.

A glimpse of the kindness that he hid beneath his hardened exterior.

You recoiled. Someone might as well have wrenched your ribcage open. Snapped your sternum in half in order to access your muscle and viscera and, finally, your heart. It hurt so badly you feared that it might break too.

“He doesn’t remember any of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ford said.

Dipper and Mabel, so achingly identical in their heartbreak, stood on either side of Ford. There’s enough devastation in the room to suffocate you.

“Stanley,” you say then, softly, pleadingly. “We’re your family. Surely you remember your family.”

Surely you remember how we met. Falling in love. Getting married. The adventures that ensued. Rebuilding the portal. Losing your baby, your only baby, and reconciling that you never would have children. The excitement you shared upon the news of Dipper and Mabel staying with you, how much you had fallen in love with them in such a short time period. Surely you remember that.

“Well, uh, looks don’t lie,” he replied, gesturing towards Ford and the twins bookending him.

“Let him rest.” Ford wad by your side now. How did he get there?

Everything was blurred at the edges, distorted.

The next thing you knew you’re sitting outside, in one of the ancient lawn chairs you convinced Stan to buy secondhand. You wanted to be able to watch Dipper and Mabel play when they were outside. But the small clearing had been wrecked — hell, the town that you loved had been wrecked, half of it on fire, smoke funneling into the sky.

None of that mattered, though.

Stan didn’t remember you.

But he’s alive, a small voice in you pointed out. He was alive and physically well. He might not remember you but he was going to live another day. Even if that day did not involve you or your shared jokes or brief touches, the comfort of loving the same person for half your life.

You could handle that, you thought. It was enough just to know that he was alive and in the world.

Strangely, you didn’t cry. You sat and watched ashes fall, covering the ground and the picnic bench where Mabel had performed improvised soliloquies to your delight, on the bike that Dipper bought himself — smile nearly splitting his cheeks — in order to investigate his many conspiracies. Ash coated everything. It was comforting, somehow, restorative, replacing the disconcerting scenes of Weirdmagaddeon with a blank state.

You couldn’t face going into the Mystery Shack so you slept outside in the lawn chair. No one came to shuttle you inside, but when you woke up in the morning there was a blanket folded over you.

[drexee]

And finally, Mikey!!!

Bayverse!Mikey x gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff, spelling maybe?

Raph | Leo | Donnie

Mikey Sleep HCs

Michelangelo used to have a twin bed, actually! It really didn’t bother him! He would just face plant into the mattress and knock out

fun fact: that was the same bed he’d had since he was little! Yes, the bunk.

But it wasn’t until you came along that he thought maaaaaybe he should get a bigger bed😭

He’s rolled off the side one too many times when you slept in the same bed together 🥲

Now he has a queen sized bed! Very plush, you sink right in

He has a comfortable and large blanket, it’s tattered at the edges but, “It’s well loved! It adds character ;)”

Mikey has a LOT of pillows on his bed. And one (1) body pillow he did not nab from Donnie’s room

Also has clothes on his bed, clothes he’s been meaning to fold and put away, but he just… never got around to it

Honestly, when you first walked in, you didn’t even know he had a bed

But it’s there, trust

He’ll knock some off and boom! A bed!

He. Snores. LOUD.

like, hONK shooo HOONNK mimimimi 😪

If it weren’t for those thick cement walls, you’d be able to hear him clear across the lair!

But it mellows out the deeper he goes into sleep

Now, about the sleeping positions

He has no favorite!

if you’re in bed with him, he’s happy 🥹

Sometimes Michelangelo will have you wrapped up in his arms, other times he’ll be laying on his back (propped with a few pillows) and have you up against his side

It depends on how he’s feeling that night

But you always wake up with at least one of his limbs draped over you

If it’s been a long day, he’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to your heart beat

It gives him a chance to rest his eyes and his very busy brain for a bit, allowing himself to just focus on you and clear out everything else

Your fingers would draw lazy circles on the back of his head, and across his neck, over his carapace, down his shoulders and lightly scratch his jaw

Maybe even kiss his forehead too?

He’s Swooning, oh my god

He loves it

Mikey will be chirping and churring so much he’s practically vibrating

He’d also be drawing pictures with his hands over your skin, tracing your shape and committing it to his memory

He’d see the goosebumps that follow his fingers and he would go back and trace over them, slower

Mikey loves loves LOVES your voice, so he’ll ask you to talk to him while he’s cuddled up with you

Pillow talk is a big thing for him, from various topics to deep conversations to cracked out stories that have you both gasping and dying with laughter

And honestly the raw emotions that come out in the dead of night? When it’s just you and him bundled up together sharing every random thought that comes to mind until one of you drifts to sleep?

That’s what he lives for

It’s intimate in a way that nothing else could ever replicate

In the mornings, he will lay onto top of you

Like, he will CRUSH you. Lovingly. 😌

He wants to be close to you!! And soak up all your sunshine!!!

and he’s not above peppering every inch of you with as many kisses as he can

You have to literally shove him off of you to get him to stop😭

Even then, Mikey will grab your arm (or whatever you used you get him away) and start kissing that

And once you’re properly awake, he’ll have you two head over to the kitchen to have some breakfast together

Voila!! That’s all four! Sorry these took a bit! I have like, a full time job and I’m in school, and honestly only get these ideas when I’m right about to fall asleep 😭

Anyways! Hope you enjoyed! Til next time!

[novasintheroom]

favorite flower - Prince!Vash x Reader

He finds out first that you don’t like roses. The walk in the rose garden comes to a halt when you voice this.

“They’re beautiful,” you say. He still sees the small wrinkle of your nose when you speak of them. “They are just…very common.”

“Common? How so?” Vash asks.

You clasp your hands behind your back. Your foot reaches out to toe at the earth. “They…are a favorite among potential suitors in all kingdoms. Every noble girl receives them.” You look up desperately, willing him to understand something, “It’s as if the suitors do not ask their lady if she even wants them.”

Vash laughs, a little startled. “Don’t all ladies want flowers?”

You sigh, and Vash feels like he missed a mark somehow. “Yes, we do.”

 “Well…wasn’t your bouquet filled with roses at the wedding?”

You tense and look up, face carefully blank. “I didn’t have much choice in anything that day.” After a beat, you continue your walk through the garden.

Vash trails a bit behind, face stinging. He should have known better than to bring up the wedding; it is still a delicate subject. But still, his mind grabs hold on what you said: no choice on that day.

Looking around the immediate garden, he wonders.

--

“If you were married – “

“Stop. I’m not entertaining your delusions today.”

“Just wait!” Vash puts both palms out, willing Nai to stop his work and listen for a moment. His brother looks up from his desk, deadpanned and ill-humored. It never bothers Vash. “If you were married, what kind of flowers would you get your wife?”

Nai pushes a sigh out and goes back to the writing before him. “You’ve already messed up badly enough to warrant flowers?” He scoffs. “What did you do?”

“No! It’s nothing like that.” Vash sighs, pacing around the room. “She told me that she doesn’t like roses. Which, what girl doesn’t like roses?”

“Your wife, apparently.”

Vash groans and pulls a hand down his face. “I want to make her feel comfortable here! We’ve only got a rose garden. What do I give her that isn’t roses?” Nai doesn’t answer. His pen scritches across the paper before him, marking and taking notes. Vash turns to his twin. “So? What would you get your wife?”

Nai takes a breath in and out of his nose. “Lillies. Daisies. I don’t know.”

“No, she doesn’t really like those either…”

A single white brow raises. Nai glances up. “Have you asked her what she would like?”

Vash freezes and clears his throat. “No…”

Nai only shakes his head. “You’ve said yourself how direct she can be with her answers. Why haven’t you asked her?”

Vash slumps into one of the chairs in front of Nai’s desk. “Because…I want to show her I pay attention, without her having to tell me everything.”

Nai finally puts his pen down and regards his brother. What a silly concept. Only Vash would complicate something as simple as an arranged marriage. He dregs up an old memory. “Do you recall what Mother told us about marriage?”

Vash picks at the chair’s leather arm. “She said a lot of things.”

Nai tilts his head. “What I’m referring to is when she said marriage takes commitment and understanding between both parties to succeed. If you don’t ask her what she likes, you are taking away her chance to be understood.”

It makes sense. Of course it does. Mother was always wise in her counsel, even when they were young. But…Vash sighs. He wants to be a good husband. And good husbands notice things about their wives!

Suddenly, an idea hits him. “Maybe,” he says, “I can take her to a flower shop in town, and see what she gravitates towards?”

Nai sighs. Hit and a miss. “Get out.”

--

Despite Nai’s tendency to believe his brother stupid, Vash is not dull. Very, very stubborn, but not dull.

He starts with having servants plant new flowers in the garden. Lilies, poppies, orchids. He takes you on a walk to point them out. You look at them, smile, but nothing more. So, he continues. Tulips, dahlias, carnations, irises. You stop at your favorite colors, point at them and smile again, but nothing that screams, this, this is my favorite flower.

Vash gets down and dirty after that. He helps the servants plant the new flowers, fingers growing dark with dirt and cheeks red from the sun. Bushes of roses are removed to make room for new blooms. It becomes his new hobby, his time off when not in dreaded meetings and other princely duties. He researches flowers, finding exotics from other lands and having them shipped in on his own dime. When they are planted, he looks around at the work and hopes. Then, he fetches you and you take a walk.

After the twelfth time of doing this, you finally ask, “What are you doing, exactly?”

Vash almost trips. “What do you mean?”

You give him a look that makes his heart skip. “We’ve been taking an awful lot of walks lately. And I’ve noticed your work in the garden. It’s very beautiful. But I can tell you’re waiting for something.” You nod your head at his expression. “Speak.”

But he doesn’t want to. He wants to find out for himself! Without realizing, he pouts and shakes his head.

You hook your arm through his and pull him along, a small smile on your face. “Husband,” you say softly, “has this got to do with my not liking roses?”

Vash swallows. His heart pitter patters at being called ‘husband’ so quietly. “What makes you think that?”

Your lips lift more, and with your free hand you gesture around. “There are remarkably less roses in this garden than there were a few weeks ago. More flower varieties as well. You’ve been spending more and more time out here, planting your plants. I’ve been wondering where you have been.”

A sudden guilt overtakes him. “I did not mean to neglect you for this project.”

“Ah, so it is a project.” You pat his arm with your hand. “And you didn’t neglect me; wipe that look off your face.”

You both walk to a part of the garden that sits against the wall of the castle. Red geraniums grow around a stone bench and bird bath, along with small forget-me-nots that twine with the red. You sit at the bench, and Vash sighs. It’s time to come clean. “I did not mean to keep it a secret, but I wanted to find out what your favorite flower was.”

Your brows raise. “So that is it. All of this work, just to find out what I like? You flatter me.” You hesitate before taking his hand, “But wouldn’t it have been easier if you had merely asked me?”

Vash flushes. “Of course. But I…I wanted to show that I pay attention to what you like and don’t like.” It sounds silly saying it out loud now. He feels it further when you laugh.

“That is very sweet of you. More sweet than I deserve. But I think we should put an end to the mystery and allow the servants to get back to their regular duties, hm?” You lean forward and touch some of the flowers growing under the bench. “I enjoy all flowers, truly – even roses on occasion. But the ones I like most are the small ones – the ones that pollinators can easily get to. Forget-me-nots, baby’s-breath, that sort of thing.” You straighten and look ponderously ahead. “I suppose that would have made a poor bouquet for a royal wedding.”

“No!” He’s emphatic, holding your hand tighter to get you to look at him. “It would have been beautiful! Just having small flowers, it would have been a new start to a tradition!”

You smile. “I hear that’s what village girls do for their weddings – pick whatever small flowers are in bloom for the spring and that is their bouquet. It likely would have just made nobles call me a village girl if I had it my way.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he says, playing with your fingers. “Nothing wrong with any of it.”

“I know,” you say, and grasp his fingers in your own. “Thank you, for trying so hard. I think the garden looks much livelier now than ever.”

It does. There are more butterflies, hummingbirds, and other small creatures around now than there were before. Fat bumblebees buzz low to the ground, picking at the little flowers found there. Vash watches a smaller honeybee land on one of the geraniums nearby, and smiles.

Maybe he could have asked you what your favorite flower was and been done with it. But, as you shyly lay your head on his shoulder, he thinks he likes this arrangement better.

[pinkobjectmilkshake]

just saw someone unironically say “Knives was right” for the first time, when I’m pretty sure the entire point (in the manga at least) is that both twins’ points of view are fundamentally flawed - Knives is sympathetic yes, but he still knowingly commits atrocities in an attempt to make the human race suffer for their own collective wrongdoings

Update because I didn’t think I needed to say this: PLANTCEST SHIPPERS DNI, it’s in my pinned👇

[vodika-vibes]

hiiii! i would like to send in a request for your follower event please!!! i was thinking of a monster/ghost au where the reader (i’ll leave gender up to you i’m not picky lol) was a medic for the 501st and was dating echo but died. so the reader is now a ghost haunting echo after he joins the bad batch!! i’m not sure if i want echo (or even the bad batch + omega) to be able to see the reader so i’ll leave that up to you as well if that’s okay? it’ll be like a surprise!! but i do want this to have a happy ending if possible please!!

Oh Traveler Come

Summary: You’ve always been a practical person. Realistic. So when you’re killed in an attack on the Resolute you’re legitimately surprised to find yourself sticking around after death. It’s not the way your world is supposed to work. But, when you find yourself bound to Echo, Echo who you were dating before he died, you start to think that maybe there’s a reason for it.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1542

Warnings: Some angst

Prompt: Ghost/Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't sure, at first, how I was going to write this one, but I think I kind of like the idea that I came up with. Thanks for your request!

“What a hell hole,” You scrunch up your nose as you trail after Echo into the barracks of his new squad, “Honestly Echo,” You say to your boyfriend, former boyfriend, who you know can’t hear you, “You should bully them into cleaning more. This is a crime against me.”

Echo doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t see you, though sometimes it feels like he can hear you.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re a ghost. You died in an attack on the Resolute. Well, to be more precise, you were killed by Ventress. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what happened. 

To be fair to yourself, you don’t actually remember dying.

But you’re a ghost, so you must have died. It’s the only logical conclusion. 

For a time, you were attached to Fives, and then he died (and oh, isn’t that just infuriating? You know everything that Fives learned, but you can’t tell anyone-) and then you found yourself hovering over Echo.

You suppose it makes an odd sort of sense. You’ve always been closer to the domino twins than anyone else on the ship…well, outside of Kix. Although, you’re not disappointed that you’re not stuck haunting Kix.

Absently, you roll in the air so that you’re lounging on your back, you tuck your arms under your head and cross your legs. Being a ghost is weird. You can only travel so far away from Echo before you’re snapped back to his side, floating through walls still feels…weird. And you constantly feel like you’re spying on the boys.

Also, you don’t need to sleep anymore. 

You shift when you hear a thunk, and you make a face when you see Hunter stripping his armor off. Time to make yourself scarce, just because they don’t know that they’re being haunted doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t allow them some privacy.

Sure, if you’ve seen one naked clone, you’ve seen them all. But still.

The only person you have any interest in seeing naked is Echo…and even then, not when he’s not aware that you’re watching.

You allow yourself to drift through the wall, and then sit up and cross your legs, lazily allowing your gaze to drift over the men walking through the hall.

What a lonely existence you’ve been cursed with.

Your hands find no purchase. Your gestures catch no eyes. And your pleas, whether they be whispered or screamed, reach not a single ear.

What horrific crime must you have committed to be cursed with this? It must have been truly awful-

“Hello?”

There’s no other explanation-

“Helloooo?”

This has to be a punishment-

“How are you floating?”

Wait, what?

Your gaze snaps to right in front of you. There’s a small child, a little blonde girl, standing in front of you, looking up at you through wide brown eyes. “...you can see me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

“Gods,” You drop from the air until your kneeling in front of her, “How long has it been-” 

She reaches out and presses her hands against your cheeks, and you’re surprised that she can touch you, “You’re cold.” The little girl says with a small frown, “Like touching ice.”

“I’m a ghost, little one.” You say through a choked laugh, “I have been for what feels like ages.”

“My name is Omega.” She says with a bright smile, “What’s your name?”

You blink the tears out of your eyes, as you introduce yourself. 

“Would you like to come to my room with me? You must be so lonely.”

“I wish I could, but I’m bound to Echo.” You jab your thumb towards the door.

Omega looks from you, to the door, and then back to you. “He can’t see you?”

“Nope.”

“Or hear you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s so sad!” Omega looks like she’s about to cry for a moment, and you flounder, unsure how to fix this, if this can be fixed. And then a look of determination crosses her face, “I’m going to help.”

“Are you?” You ask, bemused.

Omega steps around you and knocks on the door, loudly.

“They’re not going to believe you, kid.” You note as you take to the air again, folding your legs once more.

“I’ll make them.” Omega replies just before the door opens. Crosshair looks out the door, looking right through you, and then he glances down at Omega.

“...what?”

Omega lifts her chin, “I’m looking for Echo.”

Crosshair raises both of his brows, and then he turns to the side, “Echo, there’s a kid-hey!” He stares at Omega as she pushes into the room, and you, laughing quietly, trail after her.

“Um…which one is Echo?” Omega asks you, seemingly uncaring for the bemused, and bewildered, looks that were being aimed at her. 

“The one with the prosthetics.” You say, amused, “They’re going to think you’re crazy, Omega.”

She frowns at you, and then turns to look at Echo, “But I’m not.”

“I know that, you know that. But ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, kid.”

“Then tell me something that will make them believe me.” Omega counters.

“Uh…kid? Who are you talking to?” Hunter asks slowly. 

Omega says your name and you watch as Echo jerks, and something pained crosses his face. “She’s dead, you can’t be talking to her.” He says bluntly, and you’d almost believe that he didn’t care based on his tone, but there’s something so heartbroken on his face that your heart lurches painfully.

Omega stares at him for a moment, and then she points at you, “She’s right there. She says that she’s been following you for a while.”

Echo glances at you, or, well, at the spot where Omega says that you are, and the look of pain on his face only becomes more pronounced, “That’s…cruel, kid.”

“No, I-” Omega turns her gaze to you, “Help?”

You hesitate, and then you float over to Echo and lightly reach out, as if to touch him, though you stop before you actually manage it. “Tell him…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Omega dutifully gives him your message, and Echo jerks in surprise. 

“She’s…actually here?”

“Right in front of you. She’s crying.”

You laugh through your tears, “Don’t tell him that-”

“Sorry.” Omega says sheepishly, “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“Why can’t I see her? Or feel her?”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Omega says thoughtfully, “She said that I’m the first person to see her since she died.”

For a moment, Echo looks wrecked. But then, he knows better than anyone how much you hate being alone.

You pull away from Echo, and return to Omega’s side, kneeling so that you’re closer to eye level with her, “Omega. I need you to pass on a message, exactly as I say it. Can you do that?”

She turns to look at you, “I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.” You breathe out, and then you start speaking.

You tell Echo, though Omega, about Fives. About what he learned, about what got him killed. Omega is shaking by the time you finish talking, horror and fear on her face. 

“We need proof,” Echo says quietly, “Cyare, please tell me you have proof.”

Omega, her hands shaking, gives him your answer, “She says that the proof is in your heads.”

“Then we need to do something about this.” Hunter says, “Omega, can you be the go between for us and the ghost doctor?”

“Ghost doctor?” You repeat under your breath.

“You…believe me?” Omega asks, her eyes wide.

“It does explain why Echo always smells a little bit like ozone.” Hunter says with a shrug, “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Half an hour later, Echo is hacking into a computer terminal when he stumbles on a file with your name on it. The file is a very detailed description of the attack on the Resolute, the attack that you thought killed you. 

Turns out, Ventress didn’t kill you. 

She used an ancient force ability to separate your soul from your body. According to the notes, you were meant to be bound to Ventress, as a weapon to be used against the Republic, only instead of being bound to Ventress, you ended up bound to Fives, and then Echo.

Your body is located on a small asteroid in wild space, kept in a deep coma to keep your soul wandering. Tech quickly makes note of the location, and then they go back to work at dealing with the chips. 

A single line of code added to the chips software by Tech, as well as a forced update to thc chips, meant that Order 66 could never be activated by anyone. And if someone managed it, the new order was to protect all jedi, rather than kill them. 

It would give the Jedi time enough to survive, if nothing else.

Then the Batch flees Kamino, with Omega. Intent on going to claim their doctor’s body, and then head to the Jedi temple in the hopes that they’ll be able to put you back in your body.

You and Echo will get your happy ending, you just have to fight for it.

And, really, isn’t that the case with all happy endings?

[superlarva]

Much needed cuddles!

Raising Dominoes has reached double digits!!! I've never been this committed to a project before and I can't wait to share more!

Here's Chapter 10 - Reunited.

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 09 Next chapter: 11

Summary: Rex and Fives visit Echo at the hospital.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, food insecurities, hospitals, missing limbs

Chapter 10 – Reunited

Fives bolted into Echo’s room before Rex could even think about stopping him. One second the boy had been holding his hand, the next the door was beginning to swing shut after him.

In the split second that Rex had been able to see into the room, he caught sight of a familiar figure in a long white coat standing next to a bed occupied by a small boy. The shades were not drawn this time, and there were less machines beeping away. From the fleeting image it looked like Echo was doing better.

Rex followed Fives into the room and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the kid climbing up onto his twin’s bed. Worried that Fives was going to accidentally hurt his brother, he quickly covered the distance between them and reached for Fives, ready with a lecture about proper behavior in a hospital, but faltered when he heard a deep chuckle.

“It’s alright, Rex,” Kix said, smiling as he finished hanging a bag on an IV pole.

Rex frowned, worry etching creases in his brow.

“He’s being careful. He won’t hurt him,” Kix reassured. He walked around the bed to Rex’s side and lowered his voice so the boys would not be able to hear, “Trust me, they need this. That was the first time I’ve seen anyone get near the kid without him flinching.”

Rex nodded, but his frown deepened. Echo weakly shifted over in the bed to give Fives more room.

“See if you can get him to eat anything,” Kix whispered before turning on his heel and starting for the door. When he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at the twins and waved, “Okay, Echo, I’m going to go now. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you, alright, trooper?”

Echo made no response, but Kix did not seem to expect one since the door was already clicking shut behind him.

Rex should not have felt uneasy being left alone in a room with his twin boys. It was ridiculous, really, but the way Echo stared put him on edge. The boy’s eyes never left him, not even as Fives snuggled up next to him, close but not touching. Not even when Fives called his twin’s name.

Echo’s eyes were cold and evaluating. Sizing him up as if he were a threat. Rex supposed that was probably what he thought he was: someone else that would hit or yell, someone else that would poke and prod with needles.

Rex really only had one move. He backed away from the edge of the bed slowly and sat in the chair pulled up beside it. Echo’s eyes followed him.

It was Fives who broke the silence, “Are you better now?”

Echo blinked, his eyes slowly pulling away from Rex’s to settle on his brother, “…yes.”

His voice was so small and though he wanted to sound brave for Fives, it was more than clear he was lying. His face was pale and gaunt, his voice hoarse and dry, and he was still surrounded by bags of meds and beeping machines.

“So, we can take him home now?” Fives asked hopefully, lifting his head from the pillow to address Rex.

Rex shook his head, “We have to wait for Kix to discharge him.”

Fives let out an exasperated sigh and let his head drop back into the pillow dramatically. After a minute of silence, he turned to Echo, his voice soft, “I missed you.”

The corners of Echo’s thin lips quirked up into the image of a smile, but an image was all it was. There was no sincerity to the motion and the smile dissipated quickly, face contorting in pain, or grief, or sadness.

The boy’s mind was elsewhere, his sad eyes darting around the room before drifting back over to study Rex. Rex smiled, though he was afraid his was as empty and meaningless as Echo’s had been, “Uh, Echo, it’s nice to meet you. I’m… I’m Rex.”

Rex cringed at his awkwardness, but he forced himself to gauge the boy’s reaction. There was none. Echo remained still, eyes locked onto his.

Rex broke eye contact, dropping his gaze to the gift bag still clutched in his hand, “Oh, um, Fives, do you want to give your brother his present?”

“Oh, yeah!” Fives jumped off the bed and retrieved the bag, crinkling it around loudly as he climbed back up, kneeling at Echo’s side. He held out the present in front of his brother, “I saw this at the… the gift shop and- and Rex said I could get it for you!”

Echo reached out slowly and took the bag, letting it rest on his chest as he used his remaining arm to attempt to fish out the gift.

Fives watched his twin struggle for a moment before his excitement won out, “It’s a book!”

Echo finally pulled out the book and turned it over, looking at the cover.

“It’s a- a guide book. For Kamino- no, um- Coruscant. That’s where we are!” Fives exclaimed, excitement and his difficulty remembering what Rex had said about the book causing his words to come out breathless.

In Rex’s eyes the book was worthless—a cheap tourists’ guide to Coruscant—but it had been the only book in the gift shop, and Fives had insisted Echo would like it. Who was Rex to dispute his claim?

Echo turned the book over one more time to look at the back and set it down at his side. “Thanks,” he said quietly, looking at Fives before turning his attention to Rex, voice now so soft Rex had to strain to hear it, “Thank you, sir.”

Rex smiled, and this time he was sure it looked genuine, “You’re welcome.”

“Do you like it?” Fives asked, beaming at his brother and bouncing a little on the bed.

Echo nodded, his eyes flicking over to Rex and shoulders tensing.

He was lying.

He was lying and he thought Rex was going to what? Punish him for it? Call him out on it? Make both of them upset?

“Wow,” Fives breathed, flopping back down onto the bed, seemingly oblivious, “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” Echo repeated, tearing his eyes away from Rex to face his brother.

“Does- Does it hurt?” Fives asked, looking at the places on the sheets where the lumps ended.

“Not really, I’m just tired.”

“Can I see?”

Echo shifted to sit up a bit higher on the pillows and pulled the blankets down. The stumps where his limbs used to be were wrapped up in bandages. His right arm had been cut just above the elbow, his right leg above the knee, and his left leg below the knee. It was a miracle the paramedics had been able to arrive in time to stabilize him before he bled out.

“Not much to see,” Echo rasped, letting out a strangled laugh that quickly morphed into a coughing fit.

Rex rose from his chair instinctively, “We should get you some water.”

Echo flinched back at the sudden movement, screwing his eyes shut, coughing subsiding for a moment to allow a small whimper to escape his throat.

“Okay, okay, I’m sitting down,” Rex slowly lowered himself back into the chair.

Fives hovered over Echo, hands twitching like he wanted to touch him, but he was not sure he should. Instead of offering any sort of physical comfort, Fives opted for verbal, “It’s okay, Rex is nice. He’s nice.”

“He’s nice?” Echo managed weakly, eyes opening a crack.

“Mm-hmm! Nice,” Fives answered cheerily.

Echo began coughing again and it took all of Rex’s strength not to get up from the chair for a second time. There was a glass of water on a tray full of food next to the bed and Rex pointed to it, “Fives, can you get that water for Echo?”

Fives turned and grabbed the cup, pressing it into his twin’s hand. Echo took it and brought it to his mouth, arm trembling under the small amount of weight. Much of the water spilled down the front of the boy’s papery hospital gown and onto the sheets, but Rex was relieved to see him take a few gulps.

Echo passed the glass back to Fives and relaxed back into the pillows, giving out one final cough.

“That feels better, huh?” Rex asked, relaxing back into the chair himself.

Echo blinked, “…feels better?”

“Yeah, doesn’t it?”

The boy slowly nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“You know what else would help you feel better?”

Echo swallowed, his eyes darting over to where Fives sat next to him before returning to stare blankly at Rex, “No, sir.”

“Some food in your tummy,” Rex nodded to the tray of food by Fives.

Fives pushed the tray over to Echo, who shook his head, “I’m alright, sir.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rex questioned, concern written across his face.

“A bit,” Echo confessed after a moment. The boy dropped his eyes to the bowl of stew and looked at it like it was a cup full of bugs.

“Are you allergic?”

Echo shook his head, still watching his meal with disgust.

“You just don’t like it then?”

The boy shrugged.

“Okay…” Rex mumbled, wracking his brain for a nicer what to ask what the problem with the food was.

It turned out he did not need to.

“So then why won’t you eat it?” Fives asked.

“I…” Echo started, his voice barely audible, “I don’t deserve it.”

Everything stopped for a moment: the beeping of the machines, the little particles dancing in the waning light, even the beating of Rex’s heart. The kid thought he did not deserve hospital food. Hospital food. It brought Rex back to the first night he brought home Fives, when the boy had cried because he was “being too nice” to him.

Vaguely Rex wondered if Echo thought he did not deserve the meal because it was nicer than whatever type of sustenance he was used to, or because he was accustomed to having to work for his food. Neither option made Rex very happy.

In fact, he was angry.

No, angry was not quite right.

He was livid.

Rex gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before his heart exploded with rage. When he opened his eyes he was met with twin sets of chocolate colored irises staring back at him.

His heart melted, “You deserve it, Echo.”

The boy kept his face unnaturally still and Rex wished he could read what was going on under that carefully maintained mask.

“You deserve it,” Rex repeated, louder this time. He looked down at the floor, hoping to hide the sadness in his eyes, “Everyone deserves to be able to eat when they’re hungry.”

The room was silent again. Rex did not dare look up from his shoes. He did not know if he could bear looking into their innocent faces after everything they had been through because of him. Because he had done everything he could to not look back.

If only he had, then he would have found them earlier, before-

“I can eat it,” Echo’s quiet voice cut through Rex’s thoughts.

He snapped his head up to see both boys looking at the tray of food with downcast expressions.

“I’m sorry, sir” Echo muttered, his shoulders tensing, “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“What? No, no, I’m not upset,” Rex said, waving his hands around as if that would prove his sincerity. The last thing he wanted was for his boys to be tiptoeing around him and worrying about upsetting him.

The twins looked up at him skeptically.

“Not upset,” Rex reassured, giving them a small smile, “Not upset, just- Hey! I’ve got an idea.”

Echo’s head tilted to the side, one eyebrow cocking up in interest.

Rex turned to Fives, “Hey, bud, are you hungry?”

“Uh-huh?” Fives’ brows crinkled together.

“Why don’t we go down to the cafeteria real quick and get some dinner to bring back here? Then we can all eat together.”

“Okay,” Fives agreed easily, sliding off the bed. Once his feet hit the ground he turned back to his twin, “Okay?”

Echo nodded, “Okay.”

The rest of the evening was spent answering Fives’s one hundred and one questions about the hospital and watching Echo slowly pick at his food long after both Rex and Fives had finished. When he finally pushed it away, he had only gotten through around half, but when Kix came in to say goodbye at the end of his shift, he seemed ecstatic that any of it was gone at all, so Rex counted that as a win.

At around 8 pm both boys were exhausted. Rex was about to suggest that he take Fives home for the night when the boy passed the Coruscant guidebook to his twin, “Can you read to me?”

Echo smiled softly and took the book, sandwiching it between his chest and his hand so he would be able to keep it steady as he read.

There was no way Rex was interrupting this. He leaned back in his chair and listened to Echo rattle off facts about the Bureau of Ships and Services Heritage Museum.

After a few minutes Fives shifted in the bed next to his brother. “Cuddle?” He asked, looking at Echo hopefully.

Echo put down the book for a moment to pat his shoulder, “Here.”

Fives smiled sleepily and inched closer to his twin to rest his head on his shoulder.

Echo resumed reading and in no time at all Fives was asleep. Rex watched as Echo carefully set the book down so as not to disturb his brother. He then pulled the covers up around Fives’s shoulders. As he did, he noticed Rex looking at them and frowned in a silent question.

“You take such good care of your brother,” Rex said softly.

Echo looked down at Fives, a real, true smile spreading across his face, “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

[uluthrek]

lannicest is such a top tier ship though because they are the absolute originators of weird incest. no one does circular family trees quite like these two weirdos. all other incest ships are like “oh god, we shouldn’t do this, i can’t, oh god, you’re my brother!” and then they slip up and feel horrible about it or they don’t even know they’re related and find out later and are subsequently completely horrified and that’s all fine and dandy, to each their own, but you just gotta respect how nonchalant cersaime are about the inbreeding they’ve got going on. like yes, i’ll call you brother during sex and i’m gonna waterboard a nun while telling her how good it feels to have your genetically familiar dick inside of me. the fact that we’re twins makes it even better. we’re so fucked up that it’s rubbing off on pur younger brother who wants to fuck both of us. when you’re not around i’ll make do and sleep with our cousin because i can’t handle dick that isn’t at least on the adjacent branch of the family tree. you ask the woman you’re attracted to if she’s a lannister during one of your less unromantic interactions and while she interprets it as an insult, we both know what you mean. we’re what would have happened to the ashford twins if capcom had walked the mile and committed to making code veronica even more uncomfortable. they’re absolutely fucking unmatched in just how weird they are. no one does it like them. absolute hats off to grrm for committing to making them capital h horrible. i’d kill for both of them.

[ladylooch]

Oh can we see Timo and Emma's first time after the twins? Xx

It takes her a while to want Timo in that way again but it's oh so fluffy when she does

A/N: Let’s start active NHL Player AU day off with a bang, shall we?? 🤭

Word Count: 2.2k

Read more Timo and Emma here.

“Weeee!” Emma cheers loudly at the twins as she stands above them, snapping away for their four month picture.

For each of their babies, Em has diligently committed to taking a picture a month until their first birthday. She wants to remember every moment these babies were so tiny. Time is a thief of both memory and the childhoods of her children. This way, she will be able to flip through each of their books and reminisce on their milestones from the month. This month, both the twins have smiled, started to make noises back when they are spoken too, and have finally embraced tummy time.

“Baby, Hannah is here. You almost ready?” Timo pops in to the doorway. Emma looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at how gorgeous he looks. He is dressed in designer everything, but looks as fancy and understated as he aways does while he straps on his equally expensive watch. Her eyes linger on his wedding band, then she nods. 

“Yes, I’m ready.” 

Nico and Lexi are hosting a team party at their place just because. It’s been a long season and the team needs to let off some steam together. Emma helped Lexi plan everything from the decor, to the fun drinks, to the adults-only guest list. Emma may have pushed a littler harder for that than she would have in years past, but she really needs a break from her babies. Instead the Hischier girls and Meier babies are all collected at Timo and Emma’s with two nannies to look after them all.

Timo helps Emma up off the floor, taking her in while holding on to her left hand. She wears a tight fitting bodice top with flowy, see-through black sleeves. The material helps suck in the parts of her that are still a little loose while giving her heavy breasts the support they need tonight. On her feet are black, high-heeled boots that Timo picked up from Dior “just because”. 

“Those jeans painted on?” He asks, moving his big hands around to grip her ass heartily in each hand. He leans down, nipping at her ear lob around his expensive diamond earring. When his teeth connect with her skin, Emma moans. It’s been so long since they have had each other. But anticipation floats in the air tonight. She feels ready both physically and emotionally. 

“Pre-twin jeans too.”

“Oooo, baby look at you!” Timo grins. He grabs her hand, making her twirl. “You look great. You always do.” Emma’s cheeks blush at the compliment. Timo wouldn’t lie to her about that. He takes fashion too seriously to fib. “Let’s go.” He murmurs to her, kissing her lips delicately, careful of her fresh lipstick. 

They each settle a twin in their respective sleep sacks, then put them into their cribs. The boys should be satisfied enough to fall asleep as is, but they know Hannah will check on them after they head out for the night. After quick goodbyes to their nieces, and smooches for their older babies, they head out, ready to walk down to the Hischiers, hand in hand. Several Devils players and their partners are already there. Emma and Timo immediately go to Lexi and Nico, announcing their presence. Emma asks if Lexi needs any help and, surprisingly, Lexi shoos her away.

“I am getting better at this hosting thing.” She poses dramatically with a tray of veggies and dip.

“You are.” Emma cheers her with a glass of wine. She gives her brother a quick smooch on the cheek, then goes to find where her husband wandered off to. He is with Jonas Siegenthaler and his wife, Heidi. 

“Emma! It is so good to see you! I’ve been thinking of you.” Heidi greets her in Swiss German. Because of her high risk pregnancy and having newborns in the height of cold and flu season, Emma has been missing from all Devils games so far this season. She has missed the camaraderie of the girls more than she expected.

“Hey! That is so sweet! It’s great seeing you too. I feel like we are finally coming out of our newborn haze here.” Emma murmurs, giving her a hug. After she steps back, Timo hooks a finger into the belt loop of her jeans. He eases her back into him, letting her straddle his thigh where he is sitting on a barstool. Emma places her hand on the outside of his thigh. His fingers come to hers, folding them together there.

As Heidi talks to Emma, he leans forward and kisses Emma’s shoulder over her shirt. She can feel the slight dampness of his lips through her sheer sleeve. Goosebumps break out on Emma’s body and they don’t leave for hours. Not when her husband cannot keep his fingers off her body. They stroke and rube and press into her skin until she has worked her bottom lip into a puffy, swollen mess. 

After grabbing another drink for her, Timo’s fingers go for another pass along her left hip. Emma can feel the flutter of her inner muscles. She presses her butt back into his lap, feeling the slight swell there. She looks over her shoulder at him. They don’t need to say anything to each other. He smirks slightly at her, then Emma pushes away, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. While everyone has been using the powder room on the main level, Emma goes downstairs to the guest bedroom that only is used by her and Nico’s parents. Her heartbeat dances wildling in her chest. She swallows, hearing Timo’s footsteps coming down the stairs. She turns as he walks into the room. He closes the door quietly then leans against it. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, taking her in with adoring eyes.

 Emma nibbles her bottom lip again, sighing as she flies towards her husband. He takes her into his arms, mouthes connecting immediately. They kiss, hot fiery laps of each other’s tongues as the need they haven’t expressed for each other in so long collapses in on them. It’s been so many months,Emma can’t even count them right now, not when Timo’s mouth feels this incredible on hers. 

“You’re okay with this?” He asks, pulling away, looking deep into her eyes.

“Yeah. I need you, T. So bad.” Timo sighs, then smiles affectionately at his wife.

“Was worried you didn’t anymore.” He admits. 

“It’s me, not you.” She assures.

“I know, babe.” He kisses her until she is quiet again. “We don’t need to talk about all of that right now. Just promise me you’re good and we can go.”

“I’m good. I really want this. I’m ready.” He lifts her by the back of her thighs, then lays her down on the guest bed. 

With each line of freshly exposed skin, they rub their hands over each other. Emma traces the lines of the muscle groups in his upper body, spending extra time on his abdomen before she gets to the waistband of his jeans. She is topless, shirt long abandoned as Timo kisses along her breasts. He works his way down her stomach. Emma hesitates as he kisses over every stretch mark, old and new, from giving them their babies. 

“I love you, Em.” He reminds her. “Every part of you. Thank you.” He lifts his gaze, making sure she is hearing and believing him. She nods. He undoes her jeans, helping her peel them off until she is left only in her panties. Timo’s hands practically shake as he takes them off next. Finally getting to have this part of her again has him close already. “I’m not gonna last long.” He admits to her. “Gonna have to get you close before we go.” 

Timo kneels down on the carpet and slowly builds her up. His mouth presses soft kisses along her folds, encouraging her to relax into the bed and the feeling of his lips. Emma’s legs spread wider. Timo pins her thighs down like that, exposing her folds fully to him. Then he slurps her up like melting ice cream. Emma shudders under his tongue. Timo strokes her clit like embracing a familiar friend. His lips create a vacuum, sucking her throbbing bud up and into his mouth so he can take in every part of her. Emma hisses, arching up, losing track of where they are with each movement of his lips on her. 

“Oh, right there. Oooooh my god.” Emma sighs.

She brings her arm up to her lips, sucking her flesh into her mouth to stifle her moans. A single finger plunges into her entrance, testing her. Then a second one slides in, encouraging her to gently stretch for him. His fingers curl up as he sucks hard, then weaves his tongue over her clit. Emma lifts slightly off the bed, then collapses back down as she comes hard on his lips. Her heavy moans and pants fill the room. Timo grins against her inner thigh. Then, he stands between her spread legs. She reaches for his thigh, helping him shove everything down until his hard cock springs free.

“Right in, baby.” He warns her, then strokes his red, weeping head through her folds once, gathering her orgasm on his tip before plunging in.

“Oh!” Emma sighs, ecstasy obvious in her tone and the way she pulls him deeper. Timo groans as her walls tighten around him. He leans his weight over her, thrusting gently in and out of her, getting her used to him again. She’s so wet- her pussy laps at his cock with each pump. 

“Baby.” He sighs. One hand gathers her waist in his strong arm, up off the bed, as he fucks deeper into her. His other hand goes to hers, lacing their fingers together. Their foreheads stay connected, hot breaths melding together as Timo fucks his wife for the first time since they completed their family. “You feel so good, Em. My perfect girl. I love you so much. Thank you for this.” He moans against her mouth. He is close, so is she.

“Make me cum, T. Please. Again.” Her free hand goes to his back, clawing down between his shoulder blades as he angles deeper, adjusts her hips and fucking her into the mattress. He releases her hand, bringing his thumb to her clit and rolling it in tight circles. “Baby.” She grits her teeth. “Don’t stop. So good. Please, please, uh!” She throws her hand over her mouth and yells into it. The grip of her orgasm strips Timo of his own. 

“Fuck!” He moans, plunging all the way in as he fills her full of him. His nose traces her neck. Then he begins to press soft kisses into her flushed skin. He wants to mark her up, leave purple marks for her to cover tomorrow morning. That wasn’t even close to enough. It barely soothed the burning ache in his cock for her. But this isn’t about him. As always, it’s about her. “Are you okay?” He asks, pulling away to see her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth open to suck in staccato breaths. 

“Mhm.” She finally responds, then inhales deeply. He gently pulls out of her, watching her wince a bit. He rubs her hips through it. “I’m okay.” She repeats when she sees his concern. “Actually, I’m really great.” She laughs. “Nothing two orgasms couldn’t fix.” He chuckles. 

“I can do that for you whenever. Wherever too.” He gestures to the room in a house that is not theirs. 

“We should wash the sheets.” Emma murmurs. “Mom and dad are coming next week…” 

“Emma.” Timo laughs as he falls next to her on the bed. His big frame falling shakes the bed. 

“I can’t help it. I think of these things now cause I’m old.” She laughs, scratching her nails through the sides of his hair. He reaches over, putting his hand on her bare thigh. He still rests on his back next to her, pants halfway down his thighs, sweater lost on the floor, hand intimately on his wife. There is a whole party going on upstairs without them. They both know they’ll have to return soon to avoid much scrutiny. “Hey.” Emma whispers. Timo looks over at her. 

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” A tender smile stretches Timo’s lips. 

“I love you way more.” 

“I don’t want to fight tonight.” Emma teases him, rolling to her side, then smooching his lips. His hands come to rest on her bare ass. “So just let me win.”

“I let you win last time though.” He murmurs, pulling her onto his body so she rests completely along the front of him. Emma covers his lips with hers. They share three deep, long kisses that turn into wandering hands. “This is why I let you win.” He practically slurs at her, drunk off the taste and feel of her. “Can we leave soon?”

“No, I really want to stay out for awhile. That’s why I lured you here.” She kisses him again. “Now you’ll last longer.”

“No, now you’ve just awakened the beast.”

“Well, put him away for now. He can play with me later.”

Everything about her is so fucking sexy right now. She stretches her arms up above her head, pulling her breasts up high as she fluffs her hair back into perfect curls. She licks her lips, then runs two finger tips under her eye lids. While she freshens up on top of him, Timo’s hands stroll up to her ribs, holding her in place on him right where she is. 

He wants to memorize her just like this- happy, healthy, and completely his.

[thrasher-slashers]

i have a small headcanon since im shorty no kidding im 5'3 how the slasher will react to an s/o who the same height ?

Ooo first request let’s go!!!

I’m just gonna do my main boys if you don’t mind :>

Bo Sinclair

He teases you A L O T, thinks it’s cute

He may pick you up?

Like hoist you over his shoulder and walk around, he likes the height difference!

Kisses your forehead, yes.

“Darlin, your the size of a damn muskrat, and Yer talkin’ to me like that?”

Still will get mad at anyone else for commenting on your height, only he’s allowed to do that.

Vincent Sinclair

Not the one to pick you up, only if you want him to of course.

Unlike his twin, he doesn’t tease you that much!

He will bend down to kiss you on the lips, he just feels it’s more intimate…

Thinks it’s cute when you pull him down for a kiss or hug.

“My love, your as beautiful as they come.”

Also will get irritated if anyone comments on your height, maybe not as much at Bo, but he’ll still get mad.

Lester Sinclair

Your pocket sized!!!

Thinks your adorable -

There’s a chance he might try to pick you up- it’s mostly for hugs though, you ain’t that much shorter then him!

Definitely will tease you every now and then, but there’s no malice behind it! If you ask him to stop he will :)

“Sugar! Get down from there! You’re gonna get hurt!” You, climbing on the counters to get chips

Again, only he’s aloud to tease you about your height, will throw something at Bo if he says something.

Thomas Hewitt

Thinks your fake a first, you are… Itty bitty…

Very gentle with you, afraid he’s gonna break you! Of course, your not as fragile as he thinks you are ^^’

Definitely will pick you up for a hug

Doesn’t have a teasing bone in his body, will treat you like royalty!

*huffs at you climbing the counters to reach something* he doesn’t want you to fall and get hurt!

Pummels Hoyt if he says anything, doesn’t have to worry about his momma, she likes you! Glares at Monty if he shares his opinions on your height.

Bubba Sawyer

Lord have merthy, this man might suffocate you! With affection of course!

Forgets his own strength, and also forgets how small you are… what I’m saying is, cuddles need a safe word.

Forehead kisses!!!

Wont tease you, but sometimes it feels like he is :’)

He squeals everytime you try and get something up high! He can reach it for you, what are you doing???

Doesn’t really pick up on his brothers teasing you, but if it bothers you, he will do something about it! Can’t have his s/o feeling bad, can we?

Jason Voorhees

Oh my god. Smol.

He will pack you around, don’t even have to ask, your in his sight at all times, very protective.

Loves when you have to jump up to him to kiss him, he will commit even worse crimes then he already has to keep you safe.

Has moved everything in the cabin down a level so you don’t hurt yourself climbing… what a sweetheart!

Mumbles how lucky he is to have you when you cuddle, he doesn’t talk much, so he means what he says.

There isn’t really anyone around to tease you, however if he sees someone bothering you, he won’t hesitate bitch.

Michael Meyers

Another one who thinks your fake, you are… small.

Definitely picks you up once your close enough, surprised at how light you are.

Stole a ladder stool for you… look at him being nice!

Teases you in silence… will watch you from afar trying to reach something without helping… sometimes he just walks away… what a jerk.

Stalks you, so anyone who gives you trouble is on the news the next morning :)

Alright! There we go!! Ik these are shorter! But I enjoyed writing them!!! If there’s any other slashers you’d like to see lmk!!!

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part III

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 3: (2,6k)

They’re halfway through planning a bouquet when you appear, the rhythm of your pulse still thrumming through his fingertips.

“Hello.” Your smile is tired and you’re holding a half-emptied coffee cup in your hand. “I apologize for drinking coffee while we talk but Touya-kun mentioned you’re a friend. I hope you can excuse this behavior, I overused my quirk a little.”

“No worries.” Hawks grins and winks and Touya all but wants to throw him out of the shop.

“I’ll let you finish the bouquet.” You step back behind the till, taking the smell of coffee with you.

Touya clears his throat to gather his thoughts again.

“Anyway, as I was saying. We did a baby pink bouquet this week, that worked pretty well with the white office if you want some lighter colors for the entryway.”

“Ugh, I’m not that into pink. How about some light blue?” 

“Yeah, that works well. Or some lighter purple or red colors mixed with white or cream-colored flowers. How about yellow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. So three bouquets for the three open offices and one larger one for the entryway. And I think we should get three bigger plants. The secretaries downstairs complained the most about the lack of plants so we should get them one and then one for our two top assistants each.” Hawks leans around him to smile and wave at you. 

“Which is where we need your expertise.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” You set down your coffee and walk back out, pushing the sleeves of your cardigan back to your elbows. “What were you thinking?”

“Uh. Plants?” Hawks points towards them.

You laugh softly and Touya swallows thickly at the sound, wishing you’d pull your sleeves back down. He’s feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“What kind of mood do you want to portray? What kind of character are you giving these to?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Horikoshi-kun is a very uptight guy and he’s lamented so much about how fake plans do nothing for the air quality. Oda-san is our oldest secretary and she’s always grumbling about something, but she said she loves plants, claiming she got every single one of her cacti to flower, whatever that means. Our two secretaries downstairs are twins who like to play pranks on newbies.”

You nod and turn to Touya. “What do you think?”

“Maybe Cacti for Oda-san? But other than that I’m not sure which plants are low-maintenance.”

“A plant can be a life-long commitment. You don’t pick your commitments by how low-maintenance they are but grow with the challenge.”

Another heavy thing settles in his gut, but this time he welcomes it, knowing he won’t forget what you said for weeks to come, stewing over its meaning.

But in this moment he stretches out his hand past Hawks open jaw and picks up a plant from the display, its perfectly round leaves bobbing with the movement.

“This one for downstairs. It looks a little silly.”

You nod. “It’s a pancake plant. Good choice. You can also ask how much light these rooms will get because we don’t want to send them to a place where they will not feel welcome. The darker the green the less direct light they usually need.”

-

After Hawks has left, the trunk of his car filled with three indoor plants, an order for four bouquets signed on the table, Touya’s left staring at the indoor plants.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly and he nods before shaking his head.

“Do you ever feel like you were sent to a place where you did not feel welcome?”

You don’t answer and he wants to take back his question. Before he can, however, you turn the little key on the old till and point towards the door.

“Can you turn the key?”

“We’re not closing for an hour?”

“We can close a little earlier today.” You say. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He turns the key, too confused to argue against it. “Not really. Going home and seeing who’s home.”

“Come on then.” You beckon him to follow you, walk through the backroom and up the stairs that lead away from the backroom into the apartment block above. Your key fits into the door right above the shop and when you open it, he can’t say he’s surprised to find plant after plant blinking back at him with leaves reflecting the light of the hallway.

He follows you inside, the cheap rug tickling his feet, the air just as heavy as downstairs.

Your apartment’s small, the interior obviously cheap, but everything feels warm and comforting, like a hug from a mother or a warm blanket on a cold day.

You point to the table that’s littered with books and catalogs. 

“Take a seat.” He folds his legs under the table, too aware of his surroundings. Too aware of you.

There’s another door, half open, revealing a light purple cardigan draped over a chair.

He starts organizing the catalogs and books on the table so as not to look at your back or the length of your feet as you move around the kitchen.

-

When the smell of melting cheese hits his nose, he speaks up.

“What are you doing?”

“Offering you a place you’re welcome in.”

You put a cup of tea in front of him. The ceramic is chipped, most likely from overuse.

It’s followed by a plate with grilled cheese sandwiches, the cheese dripping like sunshine that’s spilling out. When you take a seat on the other side of the table, you’re holding a little bowl of miso soup and put it in the middle of it all. 

“It’s not much. But if you don’t mind sharing, you’re welcome to feast on it.”

He’s staring, he knows he is, but how can he not when you’re smiling at him like you’ve waited all your life for him to appear?

You bow your head and break a piece of sandwich off with your chopsticks, dipping it into the soup before you plop it into your mouth with a satisfied hum that thrums through his body.

He follows your example, a new kind of happiness singing in his bones when he chews, warmth filling his stomach when he swallows.

You don’t ask any questions, just smile whenever he looks up at you, until the plate and bowl are empty and the tea is gone.

“Why did you open a flower shop?” He asks even though the question is kinda stupid.

“I used to work as a gardener at an estate. On my way home there was a convenience store that offered plants at half price if they weren’t doing so good anymore. I bought them and nursed them back to health until I had no space left and asked the coffee shop if they wanted to buy them from me. They were so happy about it, not like the owners of the estate who seemed to not even realize sometimes that they had plants and a huge garden.”

“Yeah but didn’t you make more money as a gardener?” He asks and you laugh in a way he hasn’t heard before, your head falling back with the sound as if it’s force had been too great.

“Yeah.” You’re still giggling. “I did make more money. But it made me a little bit miserable working there. And if I want, I can still go back. But I can’t take part in the rehabilitation program without my shop and I like doing that.”

“How many did you have before me?”

He wonders how you felt about them. It’s not that he wants to feel special even though he clearly recognizes needing to hear just that.

“Miyoshi-chan was my first. She struggled a lot with needing everything to be perfect and taking care of the Bonsai was very important to her. She’s currently in medical school. Suto-kun absolutely hated doing bouquets but he liked the heavy lifting. Back then we used to go to flower markets to make more money. He’s a fitness instructor now. Toyama-chan started dancing halfway through our time here. She made very nice bouquets but they were always pink.” You laugh softly at the memory. “Murai-kun was my last employee. He quit halfway through.”

“Where is he now?”

“Jail.” You tell him softly and pick up the plates.

He gets up as well, following you to the kitchen.

“Let me wash up.” He asks. “Please.”

“Very well.” 

 -

You don’t ask him to leave. 

Instead, you brew more tea and pull a half-eaten bag of cookies from a cupboard, putting them on the plate he’d just dried and on the table.

You leave for the bedroom for a second, coming back with two thick throw blankets that have seen better days, the fabric pilling in some places, the color washed out in others.

Wrapped in one blanket you circle the room, humming along as you inspect every plant, ever so often lifting it from it’s place and putting it in front of him, asking him to water it with a tiny watering can.

He wonders what you think of his family. 

Do you think he’s not welcome home? You hadn’t minded Natsuo, had only been shy around his father and his youngest brother.

He feels like he should explain himself, but the words are stuck in his throat.

How should he start anyway?

He lets the silence fill the room instead, accepting another plant, this time recognizing the shape.

“Why is it called pancake plant?” He asks.

Your finger traces the shape of a leaf in front of him, the perfect circle. 

“It’s shaped like a pancake. It’s also called the Chinese Money Plant but its actual name is Pilea Peperomioides. I like that it has so many names. It’s like having your given name and also nicknames given to you by friends.”

“‘S not a friend if they call you pancake just because you look like it.” He huffs and revels in your laughter. 

“Alright, what would you call it then?” You ask.

“Bob.” 

You snort. “Bob?”

“Bob. It’s bobbing its heads all the time so it gets the name Bob.”

“Alright. Bob, it is then.” 

He watches you put Bob back in its place, watches as you have to get up on your tiptoes to peek into a pot, and how you crouch down to inspect how much water is in another. 

He quite likes the form of your thighs and the curve of your knees, how your hair falls when you lean forward, how your fingers delicately trace leafs as if you’re afraid to hurt them.

Something in him unfurls, not unlike his peony had done.

He doesn’t realize his words are out until they’re surrounding him and by that he just keeps talking, filling your apartment with his voice if only to leave something of him behind when he has to go home eventually..

“I called myself Dabi. For years I was Dabi and not Touya, like one had died for the other to come in his place. Sometimes I think it’s the same but in reverse now. That Dabi died and Touya got another chance at life. But I can see it in their eyes still, that for them I was always both. I wish I could have a new name, a new identity, but I don’t know if it would be a mix of both or something new.”

He keeps on talking, even when you put another plant in front of him, even when all plants are watered and you sit down on the other side of the table, placing one sad-looking plant on the table and showing him how to free it from its pot while you listen, your eyes warm and welcoming.

He tells you about Shouto, Fuyumi, Natsuo, his mother, his father, Hawks, and even Toga. The words keep spilling out of him like they’re molten cheese and no matter how many times he closes his mouth after a sentence, it’s molten into strings so long and chewy, he can’t bite through them.

At one point a snarky comment drips from his lips and he can see that spark of laughter in your eyes, telling him that behind all that sweetness you’re not immune to some snarky humor. 

When his voice runs out, the sound now rough, the words scratching his throat, the plant in front of him has found a new pot and you’re snipping off the last dried parts.

“I gift this to you.” You tell him. “This is a Zamioculas or a ZZ plant. In some languages they’re called a “lucky feather”, but that’s a pretty rough translation. I trust you to take great care of it. If you sense that something’s wrong with it, its your responsibility to make sure it gets what it needs.”

He looks down at the unassuming plant. 

“Why?”

“Because I trust you that you’re able to do that. After all, you’ve been able to make sure you get what you need, didn’t you?”

Touya’s not sure how to answer that, he only knows that he’s exhausted. If only he could just close his eyes and fall asleep but he fears he’s taken too much advantage of your hospitality already.

“I should go home.” He rasps and you start cleaning up the table without a comment.

Shouto responds immediately to his request and promises to pick him up within twenty minutes.

“I’ll go downstairs.” He offers. “We still need to take the display back in.”

“I’ll come with you.”

You finish the work in silence, the ZZ plant next to the till a reminder of the past hours whenever he walks past it, carrying the display inside.

You press it back into his hands when Shouto presses his car horn outside, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m not saying this lightly.” You tell him with a serious undertone. “But you are my most talented employee so far. Please take great care of this plant.”

“I will.” He says, glad that his voice had been rough before.

“See you tomorrow.”

You’re watching him leave, something he only knows because he turns to take one last look himself..

-

He puts the ZZ plant on the kitchen table. 

He wanted to keep it in his room, all to himself, but he’d poured over his books all Saturday afternoon to make absolutely sure the little guy would get exactly what he needed, and after checking every corner of the house, he’d concluded that the kitchen table was the perfect spot in terms of light, humidity, and temperature.

The only task left was to make sure that every member of the family knew not to mess with his new plant.

“Alright, alright, I won’t water it.” Fuyumi’s throwing her hands up. “It’s all yours.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of it.” He points at the dying cacti on her desk while he speaks and she sticks her tongue out at him.

His mother is a bit less cooperative.

“Wouldn’t the kitchen counter be better?” She asks. “I like to keep a bouquet in the middle of the table.”

“The kitchen counter has too much direct sunlight.” He argues back. “The ZZ plant doesn’t like direct sunlight.”

“But I could lift it from the table at night when there is no direct sunlight.”

He ponders that for a moment, giving in when she brings up her next argument. 

“Besides, wouldn’t the heat of our meals raise the temperature if we leave it on the table while we eat?”

“Agreed. It can go up on the counter while we eat. But we have to put it back down after our meal because I cannot allow it to be in direct sunlight for too long.”

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[bp-zb1fics]

Yelling

pairing: kum junhyeon x bp trainee reader

genre: canon, fluff, humour, crack

tw/tags: a lot of yelling, seunghwan is a tired boi, shirtless kum junhyeon, ggang team chaos, very slight suggestive themes towards the end

wc: 1024

summary: when junhyeon gets a little too loud, it’s time to call for reinforcements. You come to claim your morning cuddles.

a/n this turned out longer than I expected it to be but anyways, a love letter for our all-rounder and master of variety, hope you all enjoy! Trying my best to do more bp trainee fics before zb1 starts activities since I’ll probably do more fics about the members!

Check my pinned for more fics~

It’s a perfectly peaceful morning at the Boys Planet dorm. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping-

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

-and Kum Junhyeon is yelling.

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

He’s always yelling.

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

Except for when he’s sleeping, eating or seriously practicing,

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

It’s quite normal for him to exceed maximum volume capacity.

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

Only Seunghwan had gotten approximately 3 hours of sleep and he’d like to get a few more before they actually have to get up for a long day of practice.

“-AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

Times like this is when he wished that any other team had been open when Sung Hanbin had moved him out of Tomboy.

“-AAAAAAAAAAA!!”

Literally any other team.

“.....”

And just when he goes back to dreaming about making the Top 9 or maybe even going home for the break and getting to sleep in his own, blessedly quiet bedroom…

“YA! YOU BRATS COME BACK HERE OR I”LL-”

A series of expletives follows, too colorful for Seunghwan to even wonder how Junhyeon at his young age knows. Ggang’s tired leader sits up, staring daggers at Chen Jianyu who, in all this chaos, manages to stay dead asleep. If only he could. 

And since Seunghwan’s day can only get better, the door flies open and slams shut, Jianyu stirring a little in his sleep before settling back into slow, even breathing. Seunghwan wants to strangle them all, seriously and it isn’t even Jianyu’s fault.

Lee Jeonghyeon and Mun Junghyun stare up at him sheepishly from where they’re crouched on the floor, one of them holding what looks like Junhyeon’s practice clothes. Which means-

Seunghwan resists the urge to commit murder which has been a thought on his mind more than what should be usual. While they are three years apart, the other Wakeonez called them the demon twins and now Seunghwan was acutely aware of why. Before they can say anything, Seunghwan shushes them. At this rate, he figures that he either kicks them out to the hall and Junhyeon starts yelling at them or Junhyeon finds them and starts yelling. All scenarios end with Junhyeon yelling, he thinks, there’s no scenario where Seunghwan wins and gets a few more hours of sleep. Unless-

Reaching for his phone, Seunghwan dials the number that the Back Door team advised he call for Junhyeon volume control.

__________________________________________

You’re jolted awake by your phone, vibrating quietly beside you. Without looking at the contact, you answer it, sneaking a glance at your two roommates, both fast asleep.

“Yes it is” 

You confirm when the caller asks for your name.

“Ah, this is Lee Seunghwan from the Gang team. Listen, I’m really sorry to disturb you but Junhyeon is-”

__________________________________________

Seunghwan hangs up from the call and sends a silent prayer to the universe for strength to deal with his demons team.

As if on cue, the door swings open and there he is, in all his glory, Kum Junhyeon, with his hair still damp from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and his nostrils flaring with a fury. The offenders shriek, scramble off the floor and conveniently find themselves on top of Junhyeon’s bed. Seunghwan braces himself.

“YA! HOW DARE YOU-”

Three things happen simultaneously. The door shuts, Junhyeon freezes and Jianyu finally wakes up. 

You survey the scene before you and sigh, turning to your boyfriend. Trying your best to remain composed, you fix him with a dead eyed stare, pointedly ignoring the droplets of water beading down his flat stomach. While it’s not Kim Jiwoong’s abs, it’s still doing things to you.

“Ah Hyeoni, what’s this I hear about you yelling so early in the morning? And walking around like this? Ya, you know there are kids here.”

You see the gears in his head turning before he drops his posture and says your name, laying the aegyo thick the way he does whenever you scold him. While you’re unfazed, the rest of the room’s occupants visibly cringe.

“Junhyeonie was showering and those meanies took Junhyeonie’s clothes so Junhyeonie chased them and told them to give back-”

You decide to stop him before Seunghwan actually commits murder.

“Mhmm well get your clothes back and come to my room. It’s early, let’s sleep a bit more before breakfast.”

So after extracting his clothes from Junghyun, who’s still in shock from the aegyo overload they had all borne witness to, Junhyeon trails after you, clutching them close to his chest with one hand and letting you drag him by the other.

As soon as the door closes behind the two of you, Seunghwan heaves the biggest sigh of relief. With one look at his teammates all dozing off as well, he finally closes his eyes and gets the sleep he needs.

__________________________________________

You love Junhyeon morning cuddles. Well, you love any kind of Junhyeon cuddles.

But there’s something about mornings and trying your best to burrow yourself into the blanket as he wraps his arms around you and tangles your feet together. Your roommates are still fast asleep and unbothered though you know they’re going to tease you later when they wake up and find Junhyeon in your bed.

You look up and he’s looking at you, your bodies so close that it’s almost impossible to tell where you end and he begins. You’re still a little distressed from witnessing his post-shower glory and so you tug him forward into a lingering kiss. He chases your lips, hands sliding to hold yours.

His breath goes a little shaky as you trail soft kisses across his cheeks and down his neck before returning to his lips. He wishes it could last longer but soon the fatigue from weeks of grueling practice and lost sleep sets in. You rest your head against the back of his neck, spooning him as he holds your hand, pressing kisses to your knuckles.

“Love you Hyeoni.”

You say, voice muffled as you bury your face into him.

“Love you too.”

He says so softly that you almost don’t hear it as you doze off. But you do because even when he whispers, Junhyeon’s love for you yells for the whole universe to hear. And you heard him.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

For that prompt list number 9 with greg I think that screams him!

FIFA

Prompt: “She did it!” “No, he did!”

Gregory Hirsch x Reader

summary: a day with greg’s nephews + FIFA shenanigans

okay so I was kind of self indulgent with this one because I play fifa all the time by myself so I was like time to pretend I’m actually playing with someone! anyway I hope you all enjoy this x I lowkey love writing greg please keep requesting him. also the picture??? on my knees

let me know what you think x

p.s. for those who don’t know, FIFA is a football/soccer video game, and a red card gets a player removed from the game

Word Count: 2.600k

You sit with your head pressed into the side of his shoulder, cuddled together on top of a pile of pillows and blankets. You both face the television, Xbox controllers in hand, and you’re watching as Greg spams the slide tackle button as you both play.

“You’re supposed to be learning how to strat, not trying to kill my best player,” you mutter lightheartedly, making your player run in circles so Greg can get the ball.

“Well, based on what you’ve told me, this is one of the best strategies one can employ,” he says back, the beginnings of a laugh lilting in his voice. “I break some knees, I take the red card, and then beat you. Metaphorically, though, because I’d never hit my girlfriend.” Without tearing his gaze from the TV, he plants a kiss to the side of your head.

You know he isn’t wrong. Every FIFA online game you’d ever played in your life had ended the exact same way. Your opponent takes their most useless player, commits a heinous crime on your best one, gets the one player sent off, then beats you by one goal because they killed your goal scorer and you couldn’t score.

“I don’t think that matters, because you’ve stolen the ball from me and then scored on yourself.” You laugh loudly, watching as your team celebrates on the screen.

“Hey, come on, I thought that was where I was supposed to go!”

“You literally passed it to your own keeper then ran into the goal. Come on, Greg, try!”

He sighs, leaning his head to the side so it rests against yours. “But it’s fun like this,” he says happily, sisscor kicking one of your player's legs out from under him.

“What the fuck!” The injury blinker flashes over the player. “What, no card?”

“You mean like an ace of spades? Why would I get one of those?”

You laugh, pausing the game to take out the hurt player. “You asshole. You know what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Then why’s my center back not have legs anymore?” you ask, watching the substitution. The player’s legs are glitching in and out of existence.

“That’s not because of me,” he insists. “That’s just bad developing.” He runs around with the ball a bit, the soft clacking of the joycon strangely soothing. “How do I shoot again?”

“Press B.”

You make all of your players run in the opposite direction, clearing the way for Greg. Jankily, he runs up to the goal, and blasts the ball over the crossbar. “I asked for shoot.”

“And I told you to press B, not suffocate it.”

The timer runs out, and you’ve won. “I hate you,” he says, dropping the controller and pulling you into his arms. “This is fun. Please never actually play against me. It’d hurt getting the shit beaten out of me.” He presses a kiss into your hair.

Greg had woken up this morning to a text message saying that his little nephews were going to be dropped off at your place. They’re his sister’s twin children, and his mother was supposed to be taking care of them, but apparently now that falls on you. In the morning, he’d rolled over to face you, phone in hand.

“I don’t know how to handle kids,” he’d said. “I think I rather famously don’t know how to handle kids.”

You were a bit upset that he’d just let his mother do whatever, but that was a conversation for another day. A much deeper, more serious one. You’d reached over, brushed back his hair with your fingers, and reassured him that you’d both do fine.

You power off the Xbox from your own controller before putting it down. “It’s only a game. And it’s only because I’ve been playing for so long.”

With a final kiss to your head, he gets to his feet, wandering into the kitchen. You stay where you are on the floor, smiling to yourself. “Do kids eat cucumbers?”

You get up to follow him, curious as to what he’s doing. After washing the vegetables, he pulls a small knife from the rack and begins cutting. “They’re children, Greg. Not toothless sharks.” He’s worrying himself too much, over thinking. You turn and pull a plate from their designated cabinet and set it next to the cutting board, Greg absentmindedly dumping the newly sliced cucumber bits onto it. “Why’re you so worried?”

He lets the knife lay on the cutting board, turning to face you, instead leaning against the cabinets. “I dunno, Y/N. It’s stupid, but I don’t want anyone to be upset with me. Not even the kids, specifically, but their mom, who’ll tell my mom…”

You frown at him, moving to retrieve a packaged thing of hummus from the fridge. You figure the children would eat the cucumbers by themselves, but if they didn’t, you’re sure you could get them to enjoy the vegetable with hummus. “One, you’re a grown man.” You tear the lid off of the hummus, nabbing a cucumber slice and dipping. “If you didn’t want to, why’d you say yes?” you ask, waving around the cucumber to help emphasize your point. Before he can say anything, you continue. “Two, they’re only here for three hours. We either take them to the park and let them run themselves to exhaustion or we just turn on the TV and be the cool aunt and uncle.” You finally pop the slice into your mouth and chew. “Good hummus.”

You leave him in the kitchen, going to slide onto the couch. The boys were due in the next five minutes. Greg turns so that he can look at you, your kitchen overlooking the living room. “Are you mad?”

You’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. “No, I’m not. Why would I be mad?”

“I just feel like you’re upset that all of this is even happening.”

“I mean, kind of. But I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, so you are upset,” he says, distress seeping in his voice. Before your conversation can continue, and probably turn into an argument, someone’s knocking way too loudly on your door. Greg sighs, and you sit up and watch him disappear into the hall to the front door. “Hey, Aunt- oh, okay. Yeah, we can- okay, uh, can I- oh, bye,” is all you hear before the door clicks shut. There’s an awkward pause, and you can practically hear the gears in Greg’s head grinding. You know his family frustrates him. “Hey, you two. Wanna meet the special girl I told you about?”

Although you were trying to be upset with him, and you knew you’d both need to talk seriously after all of this was over, your heart swells. You get up so that you don’t come off as rude as your boyfriend gently guides the two four-year-olds into the living room. They’re both hiding themselves behind him, one peeking around him to steal a glance at you. You wave, doing your best to seem friendly.

“Hi. What’re your names?” you ask, crouching down to their level. The one peeking leaves Greg, instead scurrying over to you.

He points at himself. “My name’s Ronnie. Ryan’s hiding. Mama says he’s too shy.”

“It’s okay to be shy sometimes.” You offer Ronnie your hand, and he takes it and shakes over enthusiastically. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“You look like a Disney princess,” Ronnie says matter-of-factly. “Just like Uncle Greg said you would!”

You laugh, standing and throwing Greg a look. A blush is creeping up his neck, embarrassment rolling off him in waves. “Do you like cucumbers, Ronnie?”

He practically skips after you into the kitchen, and you find yourself grinning. “Yes! They’re my favorite veggie, like the song they sang in Bubble Guppies!” Ronnie isn’t tall enough to see over the counter, let alone reach, so you hand him the plate. “Always eat at the table,” he says to himself, walking carefully with the plate cupped in his hands to your breakfast table. He climbs into the chair, which looks comically large for him, and looks over at his brother.

Greg’s gotten down on one knee and is speaking quietly to the other twin. The poor boy’s face is pink, and he stares at you apprehensively. Always moving, Ronnie takes a cucumber slice, slides out of the chair, and rushes over to his brother to hand it to him.

“See, Ronnie has a snack for you,” Greg says calmly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Ryan’s back. “Come on, buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ryan chews slowly on the cucumber, eyes still trained on you. “He doesn’t like people he doesn’t know,” Ronnie supplies loudly. “But, look, she’s nice!”

Ryan doesn’t say anything, instead raising his arms up towards Greg. Even kneeling, he’s much taller than the boy. With a sigh, he hoists Ryan into his arms and gets to his feet. Greg carries him into the living room, so you decide to stay with Ronnie, who climbs right back into the chair and scarfs down the rest of the cucumbers.

“Do you want more?” you ask, laughing. He merely shakes his head, giving you a toothy grin.

“No, thank you! I have to save space for dinner when I get home!” Before you know it, he’s scurried off again, right to his brother. He stops at the next of pillows and blankets you hadn’t bothered to clean up from earlier. He finds the Xbox controller and turns to you. “What’s this?”

You sit yourself down in the pile of fluff, beckoning for Ronnie to sit, too. “It’s so that we can play games on the TV.”

He sinks into a particularly fluffy blanket. “Can I try? Can you help me play?”

“Yeah, sure.” You boot up the Xbox, pulling open FIFA again. “Look, we can play soccer.”

“Uncle Greg, do you know how to play, too?” Ronnie asks, entranced by the graphics on screen as you choose gamemode.

“Not well,” he admits.

“How about you play for Ryan? And Y/N plays for me!”

“I think you’re rigging it for yourself, little guy,” Greg responds, laughing. He nudges Ryan gently. “How about you go get the other controller from the pretty lady for me?”

Hesitantly, Ryan nods and scurries over to you.

“Could I please have the other controller?” he asks quietly, staring right at you. You find it and press it into his hands with a smile. He climbs back onto the couch to sit with Greg.

“I’m gonna win for you, Ronnie, don’t worry. I’ll try super, super hard!” you whisper to him conspiratorially.

He dissolves into a fit of giggles, and you turn your attention to the screen to pick your team. Soon enough, you’re playing the game, tongue caught between your teeth. Greg, sticking to the only strategy he knows, makes every player he has slide tackle on yours.

“Hey, who’s the one who keeps hurting all the players?!” Ronnie asks, distressed. As soon as he asks, one of your players gets bulldozed into the ground, and the red card cut scene plays.

“She did it!” Greg says quickly, tone accusing. Ronnie turns to face you, jaw agape.

“What? No, he did it!” you exclaim, trying not to burst into laughter.

“Don’t listen to her, Ronnie, I’m the red team,” Greg insists.

“You’re the red team? You don’t even know how to pass the ball!” The player in red, currently in possession of the ball, flicks it away from the white-wearing defender, who was admittedly running the wrong direction in the first place.

Greg laughs, the damage already done.

“How could you?!” Ronnie asks.

Ryan, to your delight, lets out a giggle. “Uncle Greg’s not telling the truth! His hands aren’t doing what the red players are.”

“Eat it, Greg,” you say, finally laughing.

When the game ends, you’ve scored on him seven times, and Ronnie squeals. “I won!”

“You’re not very good, Uncle Greg,” Ryan says, coming more out of his shell every minute that passes. You decide to turn off the game, Ronnie expressing his interest in going to the nearby playground. He stumbles over himself going to put on his shoes, Ryan the opposite, calmly and deliberately tying his laces. You attempt to take Greg’s hand as you walk outside, but he pretends like he can’t see and you immediately feel it sting in your chest.

You make it to the playground, you and Greg sitting on a bench to watch his nephews play. It’s not until Ronnie and Ryan are taking turns down the slide does he say anything.

“I’m sorry. That was mean.” He scoots closer to you, actually taking your hand this time. “I’m upset and I’m taking it out on you when I shouldn’t. I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking down at you, voice sincere.

You give his hand a squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“We should probably talk later, right?” he asks meekly. You sigh, feeling bad, and lean over to kiss his cheek.

“I promise I’m not mad or upset with you or anything,” you say first, meaning it. Your thumb strokes the back of his hand absentmindedly, the way you know he likes. “But we should talk. Later,” you add, watching Ronnie run up to you with a handful of mulch, grinning widely.

The boys spend the next hour exhausting themselves, so much so that Greg has Ronnie hoisted in his arms, head buried into his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. Ryan walks alongside you, holding your hand. As you watch Greg walk in front of you, Ronnie draped over his shoulder, asleep, you feel strangely content.

At home, you watch your boyfriend carefully lower Ronnie onto the couch, giving his stomach an affectionate rub before pulling one of the plush blankets from the floor to drape it over him. Ryan lets you hoist him onto the other side of the couch, so that his legs overlap with Ronnie’s. As Ryan gets settled, Greg runs a soothing hand through the boy’s hair. As soon as his head hits the cushion, Ryan’s asleep, and so is Ronnie.

You’ve sat on the large cloth rocking chair you and Greg had invested in a few months ago. If you’re honest, it’s one of the best purchases you’ve ever made. He comes to join you, squishing in at your side and winding an arm around you.

“I don’t know why you think you’re bad with kids,” you murmur, keeping your voice low as to not wake anyone up. Both your legs are tucked under you, Greg using one of his feet to gently rock the two of you back and forth. “It’s nice watching you with them.”

“I just get worried,” he tells you, “that they’re not getting enough from me.”

“You do more than enough,” you point out. “They obviously love you very much. You take good care of them.”

“Regardless, it’s because you bring out the best in me,” he says into your hair. “I… I still need to do better, though. I should’ve asked you before I agreed to anything.”

Your hand smooths across his stomach. “I’m really not upset or anything.”

“Still.”

“They’re cute. They’re polite. I don’t mind taking care of them.”

He presses a kiss to your scalp. "You know, one day I'll beat you at that stupid game."

"FIFA? In your dreams, Egghead."

He tilts your head up so that he has access to your lips and kisses you gently.

“I love you very much.”

“I love you more.”