#you could reasonably assume he has picked up almost anything at this point

[numbuh424]

Near is so unbothered because he has hobbies. literally solved the biggest murder case in human history all while crafting, playing, building, and collecting. actual king of having hobbies. reblog this with a hobby you think Near would have.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

I think I have a potentially controversial opinion on Aziraphale and the ending.

So one of the things that made me smile so, SO much, was THIS:

That PURE ABSOLUTE UTTER JOY.

We have not seen ANYTHING like that from demon Crowley. We've seen him be drunk and silly, we've seen him be amused, but we've not seen this.

Now, let's consider what we know about Heaven:

It's never fully populated. ALL of the shots are completely devoid of angels, except for a few, who are almost always just getting somewhere and never really talking to each other.

Where I thought the archangels were a tight clan, it really looks like they're super catty and prone to jealousy. No doubt they would stab each other in the back happily if it came down to it. How much of Heaven is like that, if even the archangels all hate each other?

Aziraphale already has a nervous disposition when he meets Crowley. Is he perhaps an angel that NEVER fit in? Is he familiar with being ostracized by his peers? Just how lonely IS Heaven? Crowley seems to be a pretty powerful angel, and HE doesn't even know that it's all getting shut down in 6000 years -- it's like no one talks to anyone.

Aziraphale, during their whole meeting, looks absolutely smitten. At one point, Crowley goes, "Look at you! You're gorgeous!" and Aziraphale looks over with happy surprise, just before realizing he's not looking at him but rather at what he's created. And then, when Crowley starts going on about making suggestions and asking questions, Aziraphale is IMMEDIATELY concerned and doesn't want him to get into trouble.

Aziraphale is hooked on this angel, and I cannot help but think that this is perhaps the first angel who has ever WELCOMED Aziraphale into his company.

He is hooked on this angel, and the way Crowley smiles is with the light of all the stars he's just created, and it's infectious and it brings a smile to Aziraphale's face as well. And then this angel shields him from the oncoming falling stars.

He is hooked on this angel, and then this angel goes and joins the Great Rebellion, and becomes fallen himself.

"You were an angel once," Aziraphale said, softly, at the bandstand. He remembers.

I think it's reasonable to guess that Heaven has never felt so warm as it did in the presence of millions of exploding stars, next to the (arch?)angel that may perhaps be one of the few (only?) to pay him any positive attention.

I think it's reasonable to assume that Heaven was not the same after Crowley fell. I wouldn't be surprised to find out Aziraphale had wondered about the angel, wondered if he was okay. I would imagine that Aziraphale keeps that picture of pure, angelic, unbridled joy somewhere inside of him.

So, really, is it any surprise that threaded throughout EVERY interaction, Aziraphale has this deep-down feeling that Crowley is good? Would it be any surprise that Aziraphale, an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can (which isn't always), feels that if HE is still an angel, then what was done to Crowley was a great injustice?

I think it would make sense that we are shown "before the beginning" not just because it is fun, but because THIS is the foundational context for everything Aziraphale thinks Crowley is, everything Crowley enjoys. I think he remembers this moment and wishes he could live there forever. With Crowley. The two of them with this happiness, forever.

But nothing lasts forever, as much as he wishes it did.

I'm not saying Aziraphale was right with what he did to Crowley at the end of s2. There is a lot I think he did wrong. I think he held onto this picture so tightly, he didn't realize that Crowley had long since let it go, and painted a new one with Aziraphale with all the shades of grey he picked up as he sauntered (or plummeted) vaguely downward (into a pool of boiling sulfur).

I don't think he was right, but I do think he is understandable. I think there was a lot of selfishness, but also some misguided selflessness too. I watched that first scene with angelic Crowley and my heart actually broke a little, because I thought, "What a shame this joy was taken away from him."

I think Aziraphale is trying to right the injustice he feels has been done. But I also think Aziraphale doesn't realize that Crowley can never go back. The concept of falling never crossed Crowley's mind when he suggested that he ask a few questions, and he will NEVER get that kind of innocence back. And Aziraphale doesn't understand, because Heaven has clearly always just been that way for him (he is already aware of the danger of asking questions).

Crowley does not want to go back because he can never go back. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could build a universal machine that would crank out stars for eons and eons. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could make some suggestions and ask some questions and co-create with THE Creator.

Crowley understands that, and Aziraphale doesn't. But I can understand why Aziraphale would want to try. And I think it's all because of this:

[descendant-of-truth]

Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons

I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.

For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?

Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?

He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.

It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.

On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.

He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.

But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.

This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.

Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??

Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.

Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree

His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.

Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:

Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.

Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks

(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)

(Look at him. brain static)

I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.

So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.

And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.

If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.

Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!

In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 2

Merman x Female Reader

"I'll have to go into hibernation if it gets too cold or if I can't find something to do. The acclimation program already knows about my kind and our issues with the cold so they have accommodations for winter," he explains.

"Well I hope it doesn't get too cold then, would be a bummer if I couldn't come see you," you smile at him.

Tao's eyes go wide for a second before he clears his throat, "Yes well it would indeed be a bummer... Especially since we have just decided to be friends."

"Right?" you beam.

You and Tao talk and talk almost to the point where it's just about silly things or what he's struggling with during his acclimation. You find out he's a very literal person who has issues the most with slang, metaphors, and emotes. He lives in a rental that's about a couple miles away from the beach and he usually walks to work or the local grocery store since he can't fit into normal vehicles.

After a little bit of work though you find out an even more endearing side to him, he likes to try his hand at cooking ever so often. Though he prefers his meat raw, he likes the idea of charring the outside and adding bits of flavor. He was a little embarrassed to admit it but you found out it's because his father was supposed to show him how to create a feast to impress a mate per tradition.

You didn't press as to why his father didn't teach him seeing he was already uncomfortable enough to admit it. So you decided to share a bit of something uncomfortable about yourself.

"My mom never taught me how to do a lot of basics that most parents are supposed to teach their kids. I had to watch a lot of how to videos and make myself look like an idiot if I messed up or didn't know something. A lot of people assumed I was stupid or had no common sense. I just didn't have a point of reference and I hated being ignorant but I was judged for my short comings and no one ever helped," you admit.

Tao nods and gives you his first, though very small, smile.

"Is that why you are forgetting things constantly?" he asks with the slightest smirk.

"Yeah...sure," you feel a bit embarrassed by his question, but you'll never confess that you 'forgot' those things just as an excuse to talk to him.

"I see, I will take that into account that due to your upbringing that you just don't think about these things and I will stop being annoyed by it," he nods.

"You were annoyed," now you feel a little hurt.

"Of course I was, but no more than I usually am," he shrugs.

"That doesn't sound fun," you grimace. "You can't just be annoyed all the time."

"I'm not annoyed when I'm at home," he says.

"Lucky," you laugh.

"Why? Are you unable to be at peace at home too?" he gives you a look of genuine concern then.

His number one thing seems to be peace. He's a no nonsense guy who just wants to go about his day with no hiccups. His life honestly seems perfect compared to your at times.

"Only when I'm sleeping or about to leave for work. Peace... that doesn't come easy to someone like me," you frown.

Tao studies you then as he drops to your eye level. You should feel super uncomfortable but for some reason you don't mind. He stares hard at your face and scans it until he nods.

"You do look very tired," he says.

You can't help but to laugh at his observation, "Tao, I'm going to let you in on a secret: I'm always tired."

"That is unhealthy," he scowls.

"Yup and there's nothing I can do about it," you shrug.

"Yes there is, you could go home and sleep," he says, almost ordering you to do so.

That's when you can't help but to crack up. It's horrible that this is how you cope, but it is.

"If I went home to sleep right now, my grandmother would give me an earful about being lazy," you laugh.

Tao doesn't laugh, he doesn't smile, doesn't do anything except stand up slowly and prowl over to you.

You shut up real quick thinking something is wrong until he picks you up. You yelp, being carried in one arm at his hip like a sack of rice.

"What are you doing?!" you squawk as you sway when he shifts to carry you princess style.

He doesn't say anything until he sets you down onto your tie dye towel.

"Rest, I'll make sure no one bothers you while you're here," he says.

You can't help but feel a mix of emotions then. Your eyes water a little but you swipe away any moisture before a tear falls.

"Thank you, that's probably the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a long while," you smile at him.

And Tao in all his Taoness, just nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tao really meant it when he said no one would bother you while you were on the beach.

The day after he said that, you had what was possibly the best beach nap you've ever had thanks to Tao brining you a beach chair with your name on it. Literally.

At first it felt weird that he'd go that far just for you to get a beach nap but you guessed it might be some cultural thing and as far as Tao said, you're his only friend. You thanked him and didn't think much of it until the day after that.

A group of teenagers were playing volleyball a little too roughly and one of the guys fumbled and the ball got you right on the head even though you did your best to dodge it. The boys tried to apologize but Tao gave them an earful about respect and being more spatially aware.

That too was normal for Tao though he was a bit harsher than usual. Unfortunately it got worse.

Yesterday was a blessed off day. No work, your grandmother was out thrifting to her heart's content, and all your bills had been paid. You were excited to head to the beach but that excitement was short lived.

The first thing you noticed was that your chair was pulled a little closer to the guard tower. Next was that Tao wasn't in the tower but leaning against the ladder like he was expecting some shit to hit the fan any second. And finally, the group of muscle hunks posing as they flexed for the cameras.

Apparently some magazine decided this spot was the perfect location for some weird gym rat protein powder ad photo shoot and to make matters worse, they tried to rope Tao into it.

Before you sat down though, Tao made a bit of a scene by scooting your chair even closer to the tower while making eye contact with one of the big buff dudes.

You told him he was being a bit extra to which he said he was only being cautious as they had been eyeing you since you started walking down the beach. You rolled your eyes, ready to tell him that there's no way they'd be interested in you until he thrusted a binder in your direction.

It was a detailed list of ingredients, dishes, and recipes commonly enjoyed by all saltwater merfolk with a few dishes his kind liked the most. You had almost forgot that he said he'd make this list for you so when he gave it to you, you almost cried.

You thanked him and started fanning through the pages and noticed his hand writing was especially nice on dishes that his people particularly enjoyed. You gave him a quick side eye and smiled.

These are probably his personal favorites, you think.

As you started to skim through the recipes with the neatest hand writing a shadow fell over you.

It was one of the buff guys.

He gave you the most generic social media fake ass grins ever and you couldn't help the eye roll. He started to introduce himself but was hardcore interrupted when Tao drove him into the ground like a fucking bull.

Tao and the buff guy started hashing it out until his bros came and peeled him away from the fight. It was the first time you really really saw Tao's teeth. Sharp and pointy like a shark's and then there was the spike like fins on his lower arms and legs. He looked like a mad dog ready to rip someone in half.

You heard one of the photographers comment on how territorial some of the fair folk can be with places or people they claim as their own.

If that was the case, then you guessed it might have to do with your friendship with Tao. If it wasn't, then he's about the get a stern talking to.

~~~~~~

"He was bothering you, I don't see why you're upset with me," Tao says after you lectured him about yesterday.

"I'm upset you dingbat because shit like that can get you sent back to your home realm! Do you think I want my friend to get deported over shit like that," you poke his arm, but it ends up being a jab.

Tao opens his mouth then closes it. He looks around a bit then let's out a long sigh "I'm sorry. I really don't know what's come over me. After I moved here, I didn't have my shoal. My sponsor checks on me maybe once every three months since he's been busy working with another merman who's been trying to get his pass here. I guess the loneliness drove me a bit crazy."

Now you feel bad for making him feel bad but you hope your gift will more than make up for it. You worked all morning long on it, double checking to make sure the meat was ready and perfect right before you left the house and that the sea greens were cooked and seasoned just right.

"Well moving past that, I brought you something," you take out the lunch box and show it to Tao.

He looks down right shocked as he goes to reach for it. He carefully removes the lid and his eyes stare hard at the contents.

"You made this... for me," his voice is soft and quiet and you can hear the pain behind it. He hesitates for a moment then takes a slice of the thin cut beef and pops it in his mouth. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back and swallows. He's quiet for a minute and you're afraid you messed up and he's too nice to tell you other wise.

"Tao if it's bad you can just tell me, I can take the criticism," you tell him, ready for the critical blow.

Instead he tilts his head back down and opens his eyes. The whites are now all black which makes his yellow irises pop even more so.

"My friend, if this was bad I would have spat it out," he grabs two more slices and then a few more practically stuffing his face like a kid who was caught with a bag of candy.

You watch as he eats everything, savoring every bite like he hasn't had a decent meal in ages. His harsh features soften as he takes the last bite and licks his fingers clean. For some reason you focus on him as he rolls the sauce off of his fingers and onto his tongue.

Bad lonely thoughts, Tao is our friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"So was it good?" you ask, though you can probably guess the answer by the clean plate.

"If I was mermaid being offered a feast, I'd allow you the honor to continue courting me," he jokes.

"Oh what an honor," you laugh.

For the first time since you've met him he laughs back. You can't help but stare at him and feel a smile build up that hurts your cheeks.

"Thank you, really. I have tried and tried to create something that tastes like home but it was never quite right. It was either too salty or I over cooked the meat or the greens were under cooked somehow. This is pretty close to the flavors of my shoal. I didn't realize how much I missed this," he looks down at the empty lunch box with a mix of emotions.

Something in you feels for him. You haven't had a taste of home in forever but your problem is that you're pretty sure that it would make you physically sick instead of homesick. Home never felt like home, here didn't feel like home until you met Jessica and Tao.

Jessica made you her to die for pie for you birthday which you almost threw up from over drinking when she took you bar hopping for your birthday. Tao gave you an amazingly detailed binder of saltwater mer foods and recipes.

You can't think of anything better than food that brings all sorts of peoples together, human or the fair folk.

"Well, I can't do it all the time but I can at least make you a boxed lunch once a week, how does that sound," you smile at him.

"If it weren't for the fact that you're human and my friend I'd think you were trying to court me," he laughs. "But yes, that sounds good."

You play slap him and he laughs again.

~~~~~~~~~

"For the last time Jes, there's nothing romantic going on between Tao and I," you roll your eyes as Jessica gives you her biggest grin.

"Uh huh, sure girl. Maybe you don't see it that way, but guys don't risk getting deported for just friends and not just once. This is what, the second offence? He's lucky that he's, oh what did you say? A combination of a bookish mafia boss, the inspiration for the statues of deities and all around hotty mchot hot hot," she wriggles her brows at you before popping another slice of gum in her mouth.

You snort laugh, "I did not say that last one Jes."

"No, but you were thinking it," she raises a brow and twirls around till she's behind the counter.

"Listen, I can find him physically attractive and still not want more than a friendship. Plus he hasn't come onto me so I'm pretty sure he's not into me like that," you sigh and continue cleaning the table you just cleared.

Jessica hums something and clicks her tongue, "Girl you do know he's not human right? That he might have been coming onto you from the get go without you realizing it? Shoot for that matter he might not even realize it himself."

That has you curious now.

"What do you mean by that," you look over you shoulder to see Jes twirling a red curl.

"Oh you know, that the fair folk believe in fated mates and things like that," she gives you a cheesy grin and blushes a little.

You do know about the fated mates thing, it's one of the reasons a lot of fair folk, especially the guys, flocked to this realm in droves once the rift border opened up. With the fae it was pretty easy to tell once the bond clicked which wasn't always immediately. Their calm and calculated appearance would become wild and untamed. They would get quickly territorial and easily violent towards anyone who came close to their mate. A mark would usually show above the heart and a matching one would appear on their mate once their bond was consummated.

As for merman, no one had any idea what to look for since they just started coming this side as of a few years ago.

"Yes, I'm well aware about that. So what does that have to do with him not know if he's coming onto me," you ask.

"They know it deep down and act on it sometimes. They don't even realize they're courting you half the time or that they have this desire to want to be with you. It's hardcore ingrained into their DNA or something, I don't know. But it sounds to me that he is indeed into you. You're both just too oblivious to see it. Unlike Artek," Jes grins at the mention of her wild fae lover's name and sighs.

And suddenly her weird school girl crush behavior makes sense.

"Jes, did you and Artek.... Wait a sec, are you and-"

Jessica folds down her top just enough for you to see part of a swirling mark above her heart. She shakes in place with the goofiest smile you've ever seen on her.

"Just found out last night. Oh and he did not want to let me go," she places a hand on her forehead and feigns being scandalized. "But I have to go to work. He threatened to come in and tear Mikey a new one if he so much as thinks he can schedule me during my bond week," she give a vicious grin then.

The fae took about a week to celebrate their mate bond here, which was a much shorter version of their actual month long festivity of it. Mates were so rare on their side for some reason but here it was becoming as normal as two humans getting married. It just happened, but it was equally special if not more so.

Regardless, you were happy for Jes. Mikey tried to take everything from her in their divorce but got next to nothing after a detective brought in proof of his multiple affairs. That's why he's such an ass to her here.

"So, when's your bride feast huh? Gonna go all out," you turn to her and cross your arms.

Jessica goes into great detail about what she wants to do for the rest of the shift. That Artek has invited his large ass family this side to celebrate and that he's already started sourcing materials for their marriage bed. It was more than obvious that she's over the moon and can't get over the fact that she's found the one after years of dealing with a heartache.

Mikey tried to shut her down but several of the fair folk patrons snapped at him saying that it's a blessing that her and Artek found one another and he shouldn't discourage her happiness. His flustered face was priceless.

~~~~~

"Hey grandmama, I'm home," you shout as you slide your shoes off at the door.

Your grandmother's house is unusually quiet for this time of day when she's usually scrolling through her phone while listening to her soap operas. You look around and the livingroom is empty and so is the kitchen. You're about to call her when you see a note on the fridge saying Gayle has whisked her away for margaritas with the girls.

"Fuck me sideways and call me bob," you rake your fingers over your face in frustration. As much as you can't stand her normal antics you loath her when she's drunk. If you're lucky, Gayle will have her spend the night at her house until their hangovers wear off. If you weren't, there's a nice beach with your name on it.

Typically you'd go there after work but you're tired and you have the house to yourself right now. So you stretch and crack open the fridge and start preparing for a blissful night of snacking and binge watching some of your favorite shows.

~~~~

Hours pass and you get a text from Gayle that she's taking your grandmother home with her since she's had one too many and sends you a pic of your grandmother trying to put a dollar bill in a male strippers strap.

"Thanks for the mental scarring Gayle, just what I needed," you text back to her knowing she'll get the joke.

Gayle was a close family friend and was more like a grandmother to you than your biological one was at times. She was sweet and caring with a crazy sense of humor and infectious laughter. You sometimes wish you lived with her but she travels too much and she likes her alone time just as much as she like partying.

You squirm in your grandmother's recliner and grab a bag of chips getting ready for the next show until you hear a frantic knock at your door.

The bag flies out of your hand due to your shock reflex and you place a hand over your heart.

The knocking continues as you rush to the door to check through the peephole. You can't see nothing.

"Who is it?" you ask.

"It's me, are you ok," you hear Tao's voice.

You pause, not remembering if you ever told him where you live aside from the general direction. You slowly open the door and look up at him. He looks worried out of his mind.

"Tao, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost buddy," you ask him.

His hair is all messed up and he's breathing fast and hard, trying to catch his breath and his tan skin looks like he worried himself sick.

"You didn't come to the beach today. You've been coming everyday except when it rains. I thought something happened," he frowns.

"Oh uh well, no I'm fine. My grandmother is out tonight so I thought I'd enjoy a night in since this rarely happens," you explain.

"I see, ok... That's good then. As long as you're alright," he nods and sighs as he leans against the top of the door frame.

A crack of thunder peels off in the distance causing Tao to flinch. He looks even more worried then.

"Sounds like rain," you comment.

"Yes, I... I should get going then, I don't want to accidentally transform back to my other form while walking home. It'd be very inconv-"

Before he finishes that thought lightning bursts through the sky and the little misting sprinkle turns into a torrential downpour.

Tao groans and looks resigned as he's about to turn to leave but you quickly stop him.

"Hey you can stay here for tonight if you want to wait out the rain," you tell him.

He looks to you like that's possibly the dumbest thing you could say.

"That sounds inappropriate," he glares at you. "Inviting an unmated male into your house is never wise."

"Tao we're friends and adults. I'm pretty sure I can trust you to keep your hands to yourself unless you've had ulterior motives from the get go," you cross your arms and stare up at him.

"It is still unwise," he nods, being firm.

"Oh so then you do have ulterior motives," you raise a brow.

"I never said that," he grimaces.

"Then there's no problem if you don't. Come on, get your ass in here," you open the door all the way and beckon him inside.

You hear him groan as he accepts his defeat while walking in. He struggles with the low ceiling, well low for him as he shuts the door.

"Is this your first time in a human house," you ask, leading him to the livingroom.

"Yes, it's very uh small and compact," he notes.

You get the compact part as your grandmother is a bit of a tidy hoarder, the small thing, that's probably due to his height.

"Well mi casa su casa. Well more like mi abuela's casa su casa, but still, make yourself at home," you say then try to offer him something warm to eat and drink.

Tao tries to deny any offers but you snap back saying it's rude to deny your hostess the honor of taking care of her guest. Tao eventually resigns and you bring him a warm cup of tea. As you go to the kitchen to make him something to eat he asks if he can watch you. You agree and start pulling ingredients left and right.

You get fully into the zone as you start preparing the food. You glance over at Tao ever so often just to see that he's fixated on your process. As you start cooking you notice the whites of his eyes turn black again. He sniffs the air and his pupils dilate.

"Want to try a bite," you offer him a piece and he takes it with no hesitation and scarfs it down. His nails which are sharp and pointed seem a bit longer and more pointier now. His expression looks more predatory than normal and some of his spikey fins have started protruding.

Guess that means he's really hungry.

"Give me just a few more minutes and dinner will be ready ok," you tell him as you continue on with his meal.

Tao just nods and stares daggers at pan. You feel like if you let him he'd lunge at it with reckless abandon and eat everything in record timing.

After a little bit you scoop the meat into a bowl and hand it to him. He looks at it and takes in a deep whiff before carefully grabbing a bite. He looks like he's holding back going ham on the food and you're wondering if he's trying not to scare you by going into some weird merman feeding frenzy.

"Hey if you need to eat however you want to eat, go ahead. I can just uh go into another room if you want some privacy or someth-"

Tao grabs a handful of the meat and stuffs his face with it. His pupils nearly engulf his irises making his eyes look pitch black. He tears into the strips of meat like a crazed hungry animal. The juices and sauce start dripping down his arms and you roll your eyes at the mess.

"I'm going to get you a towel, that stuff'll get sticky after a while," you say as you walk towards to laundry room.

Tao grunts and consumes some more meat.

As you get to the laundry room you smack yourself over the head for having another bout of terrible lonely girl thoughts.

Tao, smack.

Is, smack.

Just, smack.

A, smack.

Friend, smack.

You should not be even more attracted to him after that feeding frenzy trance thing he just went in and yet you can't stop thinking about it.

"God, does that mean I'm depraved," you question yourself. "Or does this just mean I'm weird and anything goes right now in my lonely haven't had sex in ages mind?"

Probably a bad mix of both...

You sigh and grab a towel and turn only to be met with a brick wall.

"Oh hey, are you done," you ask, praying that he didn't hear you questioning your sexual sanity.

He nods and cocks his head and points to the towel.

"Yeah, um here," you hand it to him and he slowly but carefully cleans himself off.

"So there's a guest bedroom in the back. Bed is probably a bit small for you even though it's a king size. It gets cold at night since my grandmother has the a/c on a schedule so I'll bring you some extra blankets," you tell him as you turn to go show him the room.

He quietly follows you and steps slowly into the room, smelling and inspecting it. You leave him be while you go grab a large comforter and a few throw blanket for him. When you come back he's already curled under the covers with his feet barely sticking out. As you go to lay another layer over him he snatches you and pulls you into the covers with him.

You flail about for a bit until you hear what you're pretty sure in a purr. You kick up the covers to see Tao asleep now and honest to gods purring. He pulls you in closer and just cuddles you. He's mentioned a few times that when someone gets cold that his shoal will form basically cuddle piles to stay warm. Maybe that's it and maybe he's also really homesick. He said he can never go back though...

"Just this once, jeeze. Not letting you go into a feeding frenzy next time I give you food," you snort laugh and try to relax against Mr. Brick wall.

Tao shifts a bit till he's holding you close enough that you can hear his heartbeat. He moves the covers and extra blankets back up and slowly drifts back to sleep.

You're a little jealous of how fast he can nod off but eventually you start dozing in and out.

He's probably going to flip the fuck out about this in the morning. Well, we'll deal with it then...

[messylustt]

Hi there oh my GOD. I LOVE YOUR WRITING.

I wanted to ask if you could write about Miguel protecting his favorite human (maybe from an ex?), when she least expects it. I'm OBSESSED with a casually protective Miggy omg 🤤🤤🤤

god i love this. dftgvbjjjkggjjk

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ protective eyes — miguel o’hara + reader: miguel has found an interest in you and your experiments. his silent watchful gaze soon gets caught up in a message you get from your ex.

contents : protective!miguel. kinda stalker miguel. tad bit of violence + threatening. reader not knowing that miguel is watching her. wc 1.7k.

it was dark outside your window. streaking sections of moonlight darted onto the floor. the very floor you were currently pacing. a text. you had gotten a text. now, normally any form of interactions brought a smile to your face, say, if it was from a friend, talking about the inner workings of dance in the 80's. and yes, they usually were drunk, resulting in you making your way to your car to pick them up.

but this is time is wasn't your friend, this time it wasn't some drunken text. you glance back to the screen of your phone, illuminating your face. you were chewing on your lower lip as you reread the message.

oliver

hey, look i know we didn't end particularly well and everything. but i miss you, babe. like a lot.

'particularly well'? really? it ended horribly. that night was filled with yelling and accusations. the neighbours almost actually called the police. thankfully no authorities were brought in, and the night ended with a harsh slam to the door. so, why now, after two months, was he texting? saying he missed you?

you bring the screen away from your eyes, pressing your lips together in annoyance. and that's when you hear a faint scratch. or what sounded to be a mix of a scratch and a shift. you spin, staring out the window. rushing over you twisted the rusty lever and pushed the window open. cold air hit your face as you squinted against the dim city lights.

just like every time, you found nothing. no one. over the past few months you had been hearing these...noises. movements of what you'd assume to be a person. but you never caught a soul. you had thought you were being watched. it awfully felt like it. but every time you thought of an explanation you could use as reasoning and evidence for the police you had to cut yourself short, realising that all your words were pointing towards a ghost. and what authorities believe in the make-believe?

sighing, you slipped back into your apartment, closing the window as you tiredly brushed your hair back against your head. "i need sleep." you mutter to yourself, stretching your neck from side to side. maybe you did have a ghost. maybe your apartment was haunted, eyes watching you from the walls.

you were wrong about majority but when it came to 'eyes' and 'being watched' you were on point. because someone was keeping a close eye on you. their reasoning? not sure. just that they'd settled into a nice little routine, coming to rest by your fire escape to look through your window when the sun went down. and when no missions required a hero.

miguel o'hara was man of many talents. even with his large frame he always seemed to slip past anything and anyone without their knowledge. and that included your own knowledge. oblivious enough to his gaze you carried on with your day to day life. and maybe he could count himself as a little creepy. but he meant you no harm, none at all. he was just...intrigued.

in the day you worked a simple life, working at sweet cafe on the corner. but at night is where you thrived, hidden in a room you concocted little experiments, using acids and chemicals. you could call it a hobby, but you wanted it to be more. money wasn't necessarily on your side. the lack thereof made sure you couldn't earn a training placement with one of the most presteemed scientific standings. so, in the meantime you were building up a portfolio for yourself, one small test at a time.

miguel had been webbing across this specific universe when a small explosion had gone off. briefly ditching the anomaly he redirected towards the apartment. your apartment. there he had spotted you, waving your hand to get rid of the smoke. the explosion was small enough to not cause too much of a panic.

but his brows seemed to furrow in interest once he realized what had caused the explosion. one of your science experiments. the visual of your hair aray, and your coughing breath reminded him a little too much of himself. similar setup, clear similar ambitions.

so, maybe he had checked in on you once or twice, just to see if you had caused anymore damage. maybe to see how your projects were coming along. you were talented. miguel realised that pretty quickly. and soon enough the routine was set. his placement on the fire escape gave him a chance to rest, along with a chance to watch as you created things with your hands.

throughout these trips he had picked up things in your life. the most obvious one was your boyfriend. or boyfriend at the time. he was...alright, with his dark locks, and a boyish grin. but there was an edge to him, one that miguel picked up rather quickly. you didn't notice this aggressive edge until that fight that ended with the slammed door.

miguel had seen it, shocked in himself that his claws flexed to...what? help? he hadn't thought his observations had mixed with his feelings. he thought his interest in you was purely based on reflection. just a happy coincidence that your actions reminded him of his younger self. but over the next few months he realised that maybe he was looking at you a little too intently. you. instead of your work.

and when he caught a glimpse of your ex's text his face fell. missed you? he missed you? of course he did. what an incredible loss you were to him. but that statement couldn't be considered in 'vice versa'. you didn't need oliver, over the past months miguel has seen that you hadn't even missed him one bit.

but what made miguel's anger come to play was when he caught sight of the next text that popped up. your phone having been left by the window as you moved towards the shower.

oliver

are you really not gonna answer me?

i know where you live

a threat? he was really threatening you? miguel's jaw clenched as he tried to find some sense of calmness in the situation. but all he found was unbridled hatred for your ex. as miguel stood, rolling his wrists he knew exactly where his next stop was going to be.

;;

oliver was busy in his kitchen, glaring at his phone. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered to himself. “the bitch really thinks that’s it?” he goes to angrily text again. “i gave you two months to miss me. to come back.”

“must have not been long enough.” miguel’s voice broke oliver’s ranting as he spun, eyes wide.

“what the fuck?” he exclaims, watching as the large man steps casually into his kitchen, his claw scraping against the granite.

oliver’s eyes dart down, spotting the talon as his breathing grows choked. “g-get out of my kitchen you…you freak!”

miguel lowly chuckles as he continues to move towards him. “who were you texting?” he asks, finally meeting his gaze.

oliver’s chest is moving a pace a minute, as he gulps, now noticing miguel’s red eyes. “what do you care?” he darts his gaze around. miguel steps closer and oliver grabs a knife. miguel raises a brow, unnerved by the weapon. “i-i’ll call the police.”

“you know, your threats have little effect on me.” miguel states, now towering over him. “but they will effect a girl i don’t particularly want being threatened.”

oliver’s eyes furrow, before the wrinkles smooth. he scoffs out your name. though his voice stays strained. “are you the brat’s new boyfriend?”

oliver doesn’t have to time to comprehend a thing, as he’s pressed against the kitchen cupboard, a clawed hand wrapped tightly around his neck, as his face actually turns a concerning colour. miguel leans closer, snarling. “do you wanna repeat that?”

oliver’s eyes are widened with fear, as he pathetically tries to get out of miguel’s hold. miguel’s claw has begun to imbed itself into the skin of his neck, making oliver’s moves frantic. “no really. repeat it.” miguel’s nose it twitching as oliver swears he’s looking into the face of the devil.

“p-please — ” he tries through gasping breathes.

“ah, that’s not quite right. i heard you call her a brat?” miguel leans closer, fangs protruding. “am i wrong?”

miguel’s claw is now tainted with oliver’s blood as his strength doesn’t let up. miguel can see his eyes fluttering, forcing him to squeeze his cheeks together painfully. tears are welling in oliver’s eyes. and maybe it’s a tad sadistic with how much miguel doesn’t want to stop. “don’t faint on me now. you have a girl to apologise to.”

miguel finally let’s him go, as oliver hits back against the cupboard gasping for much needed air, as he holds his now bruised and bloody neck. miguel watches with an indifferent expression as he waits for oliver to catch his breath. weak — he thinks to himself.

oliver doesn’t dare look up as he keeps his head hung low. “i-I’ll go apologise now — ” but just as he moves to rush towards the door, miguel grabs the back of his collar, harshly pulling him back.

“no, no. you’re not gonna see her.” miguel offers him the phone, oliver’s shaky hand taking it. miguel leans down to his ear, his taunting voice sending shivers down the boy’s spine. “you’re never gonna see her again. you’re gonna text her an apology and that you’re leaving the city.”

oliver goes to protest but miguel’s grip slips to the back of his neck, stopping his words from falling. “and you’re gonna stay away. do you understand?”

all oliver can do is shakily nod, and type out an apology to you. miguel carefully watches over his shoulder. “you can add a bit more feeling than that, can’t you?” miguel taunts. “she doesn’t deserve just some lame ‘i’m sorry’. does she?”

oliver shakes his head as he fills the message with more kind words, before miguel is finally letting him go. and god does he run, barely grabbing his jacket before he’s out his apartment and rushing to his car.

;;

you’re drying your hair, as soft hums of a tune leave your lips. grabbing your phone, you glance at the latest message. you sigh, upon seeing one from oliver. but upon reading it, your brows furrow, as you yet again hear the familiar scratch and shift by your window, your gaze darting up.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[mingtinys]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long that the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses it as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[lttl3babybug]

Are you okay with people 18+ interacting? Do you do Hazbin Hotel requests

If so can you do headcanons or a fic about Alastor with a little who accidentally summoned him to Earth

@babiegurlmuffin

I am a-okay with people 18+ interacting as long as they’re here for complete sfw reasons and have a sfw account as I am still a minor myself! Thank you for asking sweetheart :3

Of course I can write that for you! You’re my first hazbin request! (Even tho I posted a stimboard before this, this has been sat in my request box for like 2 weeks now) How exciting!! Hope you like this!!

Crayon scribbles

Your day had been terrible to put it lightly, too loud, too bright, too much. So when you could retreat home to your little space god were you ecstatic, the calming hues of your room immediately setting your mind at ease. Between the pacifier between your lips and your comfiest outfit on you were ready for a relaxing night.

It was all going so smoothly, laying on the floor while an old Disney cartoon played on your laptop and cuddled up to an old deer plush. Red crayon in hand, happily doodling away until it started to burn, dropping it out of instinct. “Huh…” you mumble, maybe it was hand cramp. Attempting to pick it up again, once again you heard the singe of the paper as if touched your skin. This time it was accompanied by the loud static of ah old radio and a bright red light coming from your paper. Scrambling away, plushie in hand you watched as a figure formed at the centre of the light. Then it all stopped. And he was there.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Alastor, the radio demon, although I assume you knew that since you summoned me! Now how may I be of assistance?”

The large smile plastered across his face wasn’t helping the immense fear you felt, tears burning in your eyes as he held his hand out for you to shake, “Why are you here?” Your voice came out small and weak, cowering away from the self proclaimed ‘Radio Demon’ standing in the middle of your bedroom.

He bent down to meet your gaze, scanning your scared expression. “You don’t…know who I am?” he asked with a confused laugh. The radio filter over his voice wavering momentarily, you shook your head clutching the deer close to you. “Well, that makes things a lot more complicated doesn’t it?” He stood upright once again, pulling you with him.

“Whatever is going on here?” Alastor raised an eyebrow and prodded a few of your drawings and stuffies with his cane, a confused expression written across his face as he did so. He eyed up the pacifier in your mouth and hummed lightly, “aren’t you a little too old for that?” He mused, a smirk on his face. You shook your head, “No…no sir, I don’t think so”. You sounded so scared, so confused. It was almost getting to him. Almost. The picture of innocence stood before him, having accidentally summoned him with simple crayon scribbles. Well he couldn’t not play along! Tilting your chin up with his index finger and examining your features, “how old are you my dear?”

Such an innocent question, such a complex answer. “…4” you’d mumble past the pacifier, then it clicked in him. He’d seen this before in a few of his acquaintances at the hotel, “Why of course! How could I be so silly to think you were anything but I little fawn, well aren’t you just darling” he’d changed his demeanour quite rapidly. Pinching your cheek and straightening out your outfit so it sat right. This was new…and strange, but it felt right. Watching him fuss over you while he led you towards your bed, sitting down on it and patting the spot beside him and not knowing why, you sat next to him.

“My my, someone’s had quite the big day haven’t they?” He hummed, turning to to face him, “and what’s this one’s name?” He asked politely pointing towards your stuffed deer, “…’s called Lena” you mumbled from behind your pacifier. He hummed in content before looking around and spotting your laptop on the floor, “Hm, I see your a fan of those noisy screens.” A sense of distaste in his voice, you watched as he closed the laptop screen with his cane and pushed it to the side. “You’ll be having none of that while I’m here little one, just good old fashioned radio” Alastor proudly declared, standing up and tapping his cane on the floor.

That horrible scratchy static returned until he bonked it once again, it started playing a calming melody. He ruffled your hair and laid you down in your bed, tucking you in under your fleece blankets the music soothed you. It helped you forget your worries of today, helped you forget how scary everything was moments ago when he’d just appeared in your room. Now here he was, humming you a soft tune and sending you off to sleep. “Rest well little fawn. You know where to find me if needed…”

[meanbossart]

I've been loving the DU Drow as a companio asks, so I've got my own. I was wondering what kind of interactions he would have with the other companions.

More specifically, we know Astarion flirts with almost anyone (for his own reasons) and even sleeps with Bae'zel at the tiefling party if you turn him down as a player. So, since the Drow is in the group now, what would his interaction with Astarion be? Would Astarion assume him to be the strongest and best chance of survival if manipulated? Would Astarion try to sleep with the Drow the same way he would with Lae'zel?

(Regarding the companions in general) Oh I can easily see him and Shadowheart having some cute party banter, they'd poke light fun at each other and have a similarly "darkly dramatic" reaction to things. He'd easily be the most talkative with her, often initiating mundane conversations about stuff you find. I can see some dialogue between them triggering upon finding one of the many drink-stashes you come across where they discuss what they like best when it comes to wine - or what they think they like, at least, considering the state of their memories.

Gale would be eager to inquire him about drow and the underdark, and where he got his fighting prowess from, which would visibly annoy DU drow since he can't fucking remember anything LOL he'd comment about how he always thought male drow were supposed to be a little… Flimsier, prompting a response along the lines of "I suppose my mother must have fed me well. I do have quite the appetite for loud-mouths."

Gale's like :U my goodness. Point taken.

He might talk to Karlach about Avernus, being fond of the savage nature of it. He'd also ask her if "something's bothering her" and when she asks why he's asking, he comments on how she can never seem to be still for long LOL

If Jaheira joins the party later she takes an interest in him (I WONDER WHY) and they could also share a little friendly banter. DU drow ends up asking her things about Baldur's Gate and herself to fill the gaps in his memory, as well as her children. He expresses how, if he thought himself more fit for a father, he'd have some of his own. Jaheira tells him it's probably better this way.

The banter with Astarion would be pretty par for the course - a mix between being flirtatious in nature and a little passive-aggressive all at once. At some point he says he can't keep quiet about how he stinks of carrion - DU calmly tells him that it can't be helped, due to their circunstances, and that he has a pretty cadaveric perfume himself. Astarion gets offended and tells him he knows for a fact that he smells lovely - DU drow tells him those statements need not be mutually exclusive.

He'd also ask Wyll about Mizora and what it's like to be in her servitute, claiming that he "wouldn't mind doing her a few favors himself" and Wyll tries his darn best to brush that off.

Lae'zel picks on him about his, erm, unreliable state of mind and accuses DU drow of basically being a ticking-time-bomb. DU responds that he feels less like a bomb and more like a vent releasing a steady flow of noxious fumes - if that helps her sleep better at night.

He also snorts at Minthara's "jokes".

(Onto the second part of this already far-too-long reply:)

And I THINK SO, I think Astarion would take him for being more easily manipulated than Lae'zel and try his luck there instead.

Small detour: you know, I always thought it'd be neat if some of the companions formed relationships with each other if you didn't pursue them. We see friendships form but romances would be fun too - like Karlach and Shadowheart could get together if you didn't pair with either of them, and Ascended Astarion and Minthara if you happened to have that party configuration in act 3. I don't really see many of the others having that kind of chemistry, but I wouldn't want the whole camp to be in love with each other anyway lol just 1 or 2 other couples would make the party feel more autonomous.

So, in a world where that's a part of the game, I obviously would say they get together if you don't romance either (from a mechanic standpoint player still gets first dibs LOL) and that unlocks unique party banter and dialogue where you can ask them about it once per act and reveal the "status" of the relationship. In act 2 you get to comment about how they seem to "steal away" together often. Astarion implies they're obviously having sex, and that he's always wanted to "try a little drow - but a big one is even better". If you ask DU drow about it he keeps details and motivations to himself, but acknowledges that they have something going on. You can then tell him that you believe he's being used, and DU drow very nonchalantly says that "he's well aware", but that he isn't worried about it.

In Act 3, when you ask again, Astarion somewhat bashfully reveals that the drow grew on him, and if you press on about the topic he reveals that they haven't even had sex since act 1, they just do a lot of talking, as he sheepishly puts it. If you ask DU drow about it he's much more upfront in saying that they've become an item, and that he's very happy in Astarion's company.

[aliaology]

FRIENDS DONT

summary: it takes a night at home with your friends to realize you have feelings for your best friend, and hopefully you will find out if he reciprocates them.

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader

warning: just fluff lol maybe sum jealousy. the names lena, alisha, kaya and raine are used! if one of them is your name, change it as you please.

based on ‘friends dont’ by maddie and tae!

they dont cancel other plans. have conversations with nothing but their eyes. they dont hear each others names, and forget to concentrate. hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite.

your friend scoffed, “there is no way you and quinn are just strictly best friends. no way.” she spoke.

you raised a brow as you leaned back onto your couch, the soft fabric rubbing slightly on your neck, sending chills down your spine. you look at all of your friends, seeing they all had agreed with her.

“lena, me and quinn are just friends. i mean come on, i’ve known him my entire life!” you spoke.

“babe, he cancels all of his plans just for you. literally he drops them.” alisha spoke. “remember when he had a date and left midway through because you told him you needed to talk to him after it?”

you sighed. “that was one time.”

“no, no it wasn’t.”

quinn picked his phone up, leaning against the bars counter, in the corner. a girl was all up on his side. “hello?” he spoke.

“quinny?” your voice broke through the phone. worry surged through the brunette. “are you busy?” you sniffled.

“no— no of course not, whats wrong?” he asked.

you let out a small sob, “he broke up with me.”

quinn’s jaw clenched. “ill be there soon.” he hung up the phone and walked away, immediately forgetting about the girl who clearly wanted to hook up.

his mind was on you and only you.

“that was one time and it wasn’t like he planned a date or anything. jesus.” you rolled your eyes.

“oh please— lets add how you two can so easily talk, but instead its with your eyes and not your words!”

you could admit that that was true. in every room, your gaze found quinn’s and it was almost as if you two knew what the other was thinking.

‘save me.’ ‘save you? save ME.’

no matter where you were, you and quinn were always linked in some sort of way.

you huffed and crossed your arms, “okay yeah, but we’ve known each other our entire lives, it’s normal!”

kaya looked at you with raised eyebrows. “so its normal to gaze into his eyes and forget the rest of the world around you..?”

“i do not do that!”

that hit a nerve.

friends dont call you in the middle of the night, couldn’t even tell you why, they just felt like saying ‘hi.’ friends dont stand around playing with their keys, finding reasons not to leave, tryin’ to hide the chemistry.

“there has to be something going on, girl. he literally will randomly call you in the middle of the night!” raine exclaimed.

“yeah— and he is currently doing it now.” alisha pointed at your phone.

your eyes widened and you grabbed your phone, quickly going to the kitchen. “hello?” you spoke into the phone.

“hi..” quinn said, softly.

“hey” you smile. “everything okay?” you asked.

quinn stumbled, head spinning as he heard your voice. he fumbled with his keys. “yeah yeah— sorry i uhm, i was gonna tell you something but it.. slipped.” he spoke, slowly.

lielielielielie

“its okay” you laugh slightly. “are you just getting home?” you ask.

he nods before remembering you couldn’t see him, “uh yeah— yeah. practice ran late today” he told. you could hear his keys jingle and then a door open.

“tired i assume?” you spoke.

he let out a breathy laugh. “a little.”

you smile. “ill let you go then, quinny. i think you need rest. ill call in the morning, okay?”

“okay” he spoke.

“bye quinn.”

“bye”

you walked back into the living room and sat down. “sorry” you smiled awkwardly.

“this is exactly what we mean, babe! plus he will stall for as long as he can just to stay here with you!” lena exclaimed.

drive a little too slow, take the long way home, get a little too close.

you yawned as quinn drove slowly through the rural side of michigan. his hand lied dangerously close to your thigh as his eyes focused on the road.

zach bryan softly played in the back as quinn took a small turn.

you looked over at him with furrowed brows. “where are we going?” you asked.

quinn stutters, “uhm— uh the uh— long way. i find it more pretty.” he got out.

you nodded and leaned against the center console. “better be pretty or you owe me, hughes” you grin.

they dont almost say ‘i love you’ when they’re downtown somewhere, just a little drunk. they dont talk about the future, and put each other in it. and get chills with every accidental touch.

“we can’t forget that one weekend when us girls went out” kaya stated.

raine groaned, “worst one of them all.”

you furrowed your brows. alisha looked at you, “do you not remember?” she asked.

you shook your head. lena sighs, “you got a little drunk, and called quinn, this was when we were all in the uber back. you called quinn to let him know you were on your way home because he asked you too.”

“you almost told him you loved him.” she finished.

you shrug, “i dont see the big deal, we say ‘love you’ all the time.

“babe, you almost said you were in love with him.” alisha clarified.

“then— all you did was tell us about how in the future, you only saw quinn. it was quinn this, quinn that.” raine explained.

“plus— we all see how you react when he touches you.” she added.

i keep telling myself this might be nothing, but one look in your eyes and god, there’s something. you can lie to me and say you dont..

there was no way. you let their words sink in. this was nothing, right? but then again, which pair of best friends acts like this? none of your girlfriends have mentioned stuff like this about their boy best friend.

imagining yourself with quinn was actively frequent and now you were starting to realize why.

“babes you can lie to us and say you dont love him, but honey we know you do.”

yeah, you do.

“i do. bu—but that doesn’t mean anything, guys. he has feelings too.”

then your phone went off.

‘can we meet in the morning?’

“i have a feeling he reciprocates them.”

lowkey love but lowkey HATE.

[qtubbo]

Almost everyone assuming the way to “fix” Tubbo not being happy being make him and Fred start dating again, because it’s the simplest solution but just isn’t the solution. Tubbo is not jealous of Fit and Pac’s relationship in comparison to him in Fred, any jealous is of himself being third pick, rather than anything to do with them actually dating. From his and Bagi’s talks with Fred, it becomes pretty obvious that Tubbo is avoiding getting back together with Fred. He knows Fred likes him still, both how she’s acting and from the “boy with the pretty eyes” letter. Bagi’s talk with Fred, made her convinced that they just need to get together since it’s obvious they both still like each other, but it also asserts that Fred is making the active choice to step away for safety reasons.

From Tubbo and Pac’s chat, we can really gather some of his lingering trauma from his relationship with Fred. Fred was in constant danger from the Feds because he was with Tubbo, and Fred liking Tubbo is what got him tortured and almost killed by Quackity. Tubbo projects this unfortunate relationship on to Pac’s with Fit, he puts Pac as himself and Fit as Fred (just due to opening up to Pac instead of Fit nothing more), he explains in rambles about how they’ll be used against each other. That their relationship puts a target on each other’s back, if someone wanted to get at Fit they could use Pac. Pac being so open towards Tubbo, allowing him to get his thoughts out without proclaiming paranoia, helped Tubbo be a lot more honest. Explaining his general anxiety towards being in a romantic relationship, because he’ll be the catalyst to their down fall. Even making it obvious to someone else if it came down to it he’d kill Fred for an egg, by speaking of ultimatums in which it was Pac/Fit or Ramon/Richas.

He makes it pretty obvious he’s put his life on hold for Sunny, by projecting those same choices Tubbo made for Sunny on to Pac. Tubbo isn’t going any of this out of some jealousy to have Fit and Pac’s relationship but rather from fear. To him the choice is simple, even though it’s guilt-ridden, what’s better Pac or Fit dying as a pawn in someone else's game or a break up where they remain friends afterwards. This is a much more deep seated issue than some magical true love kiss can fix, even though both Fred and Tubbo still love each other. Fear is overriding want, and just getting him and Fred back together will make him reject Fred, or be in an intense state of stress.

When it comes down to his relationship with Morning Crew as a whole, he feels like the third wheel and has always felt that way. It’s Fit and Pac and then it’s Tubbo. Tubbo mimics a lot of Pac’s issues about usefulness and feeling like last place within their respective family’s. He’s been open about feeling like Morning Crew will become just a duo, that most of the love is directed towards Fit and Pac rather than himself. Tubbo has never shown any real bitterness from this, but he has showed a deep loneliness, Morning Crew is his safety net, he hasn’t accepted Bagi in yet, and his relationship with Phil has strained since purgatory. So in practicality if he lost Morning Crew, he looses an essential part of being alive, and he needs that for Sunny.

Tubbo is overwhelmingly terrified that Fit and Pac getting together is the beginning of the end, even though Fit and Pac have shown even after dating that he’s always on the back of their minds, that they’ll always care. He convinced himself that they’ll start spending more and more time together, without him, that he won’t even be a sidelong glance. There’s also a fear of death, a forced separation that them being together means their always each other’s weak point, “empathy is weakness”. To show care to another, is to show someone can hurt you with them, that’s something Tubbo has lived with since Fred. He won’t call Morning Crew his family, even though they are because then they’ll be in danger because of him.

It’s this pestering paranoia that’s driving Tubbo, not jealousy, he can not be “fix” as most islanders say by just giving him Fred to love. His loneliness is a choice built on fear, sometimes when Tubbo says he doesn’t want to love again, he means it. They love each other but now is not the time, maybe in the future where he isn’t so isolated.

[alpaca-clouds]

Trying to figure out Gortash's backstory

As I said before, I am right now very much inspired to write a redemption story for Gortash. Like post-canon, Gortash lives AU (because I still hate that he dies), and he actually gets a chance to redeem himself. Not only like: He turns good, but he actually does something good enough to be considered a redemption. And he does so without dying.

But... Yeah, that story is going to be from Gortash's POV, which means that I very much need to come up with some fillings for the big ass holes that the game leaves in terms of his backstory.

We don't know how old he is, but I would estimate him to be around his late 30s or early 40s. Which means we kinda have like 20 years to fill up.

While the entire timeline of Raphael "buying" him from his parents and him escaping the hell is very vague, he was probably somewhere between 18 and 20 when he got out of the hells. And the exact stuff what happened in between is vague. Even how he escaped the hells is not quite clear. I mean, was Helsink responsible for that? Or how did he get out?

And then he starts to do illegal weapons trading once he is back in Baldur's Gate. Which is fair. I am going to assume that he is actually going to throw some stuff in there that is of his own making, given that he clearly is a tinkerer.

Given Karlach is 30, I do not think he hired her before she was 15, so at max she has worked for him just a couple of years.

I mean, technically those details don't matter. What does matter however is: How does he become a Chosen of Bane, and how does he get into contact with the Dark Urge?

As quite a few people have pointed out: Technically the Dark Urge existing is very confusing given that they have been created by Bhaal and Bhaal was dead for about a hundred years until ten years ago. So unless Durge is ten years old, this does not fully make sense. Sure, technically speaking Durge could be immortal, I guess, but... Well.

See, the issue I see with Gortash is, that I just do not pick him as the religious type. I do not see him going to the Banite church and actually give enough fucks to make himself a name in the church and after some great show of faith getting the status of chosen. I mean, if you talk to him, he just... Ketheric is devoted to Myrkul, sure. And Orin was indoctrinated into the Bhaalist cult from her birth onward. But Gortash? He would follow nearly every god if that god gave him powers. At least that is my reading of him. Sure, the entire tyrant thing plays well with his pompous and kinda narcissistic personality (and I mean this in a neutral way - given how he grew up narcissism in a medical sense is to be expected), but... Like, had Oghma thrown him a boon, he would have served Oghma, right?

So, why is he a chosen?

Usually chosen are either one of two: Either, they are very dedicated to the god and have proofen themselves to them over and over again, or they have something (power, knowledge, influence) that the god is interested in. As I don't see Gortash falling underneath the first umbrella, the second one could be it. Was Bane interested in Gortash maybe, because Gortash had a lot of knowledge about the hells maybe? Was Bane originally interested in the crown or something else that Gortash knew about? That would be one possibility.

Though, there is another one. Because it just so happens that in the lore of Faerûn something happened just 8 years ago, that could have given him chosen status without him doing shit for it. Even though it would also mean, that him being a chosen is almost random. Because 8 years ago the second sundering happened. And during the second sundering for a variety of reasons the gods picked quite a lot of chosen. And yes, that included the Dead Three as well. And a lot of those chosen were in fact not people super dedicated to the gods or anything, but just people who generally aligned with the domain and alignment of the god in question. And I cannot help but wonder: Was Gortash just one of the chosen Bane got from that event?

It would work out fine. Because there is one thing that keeps bothering me: Sure, Gortash kept secrets from Karlach. But she still was his personal bodyguard. And she had no idea that he was aligned with Bane. Which makes me think that indeed he was not a Banite when he sold her off to Zariel.

And yeah, I cannot help myself. The timeline would work out rather well: Gortash becomes a chosen closely prior the events of the second sundering, but after he sold of Karlach. After a bit the Dark Urge (who somehow very much is an adult, because I guess he time travelled or something) finds him. The two hit it off (whether romantically or platonically) and come up with their grand evil scheme. At some point Ketheric joins.

Of course, there is one big hole in that explaination, though: Who are the other people working for Gortash while he just is a black market weapons trader? If he was a Banite it would be easily explainable (other Banites), but like this it leaves open the question: Who are they and what happened to them?

I don't know. I am rambling. But yeah. I like this asshole. And his story is fun to think about.

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Heyo! May I request platonic yandere chain with reader? But instead of isekai like normal the reader is actually a destructive spirit or deity that was reawakened by either Dark Link or Ganon? Anywhoooo I hope you’re having a great week- mine was filled with exams lmfaooooo

Thanks for requesting anon! I really hope you had good results from those exams!

Notes: My week was okay, thank you for asking!!

I really let out my imagination out on this one, hope you'll like it.

BTW, take this as a part on the back for getting through your week.

I feel like I made the yandereness on this one so light, I'm sorry

-> Reader can't bring themselves to remember anyone's names so just remembers their most striking characteristics in their opinion.

-> It's been a while since I've read the comic, so Time keeping FD's mask on his belt for safety measures (since it's the most dangerous one and he can't lose it) is merely a headcanon of mine.

-> Reader is a menace who has questionable intellect (AKA a chaotic, pyromaniac, destructive entity being forced to be nice to others by the good guys™).

-> I left the end ambiguous, so you guys can decide if reader was either truly tamed or is still a menace who Time has to keep on check so they won't be too cruel on their "pranks".

-> Reader also magically rearranged Time's ocarina so each hole would play different a different sound at some point, so he literally had to re-learn where each note was so that he could go back to playing his songs again.

-> Reader slept for more than Time and Wild both and doesn't know a thing about the Zelda lore other than the Golden goddesses.

TWs: Light platonic yanderism, mention of burns, mentions of fire and arson, mentions of loud noises, basically just reader being an absolute hazard to anyone and everyone.

Platonic yandere! Chain x Reader

Debt to pay.

People from your time used to say that one could sooner move a mountain from it's resting place rather than tame your natural ways.

You wouldn't say you were a deity, per say, you thrived on chaos and setbacks, a living annoyance to the poor living things that breathed the same air as you, and roamed the earth by the same time you did.

It was in your nature to be destructive, yes, but you never wanted destruction, at least not full extinction. The darkness and the light were both two sides of the same rupee, they were one just like the other, beings of both sides would react the exact identical way to having their butts lit on fire. So, of course, you weren't one to pick and choose who you'd go after each day.

Thing is, most people didn't understand that —if anyone at all— so everyone just assumed you were a being of pure darkness, even if you actually saw yourself as more of a dark gray entity from a moral chart perspective.

And that was how you got yourself “killed”, if that's even the right thing to call it.

Somehow, no one seemed to care much when you lit whole villages on fire and made all of the walls of full-on castles start dissing out pure electricity, but they almost dislocated their jaws the moment you decided to do a silly trick and turn all of their lovely goddesses statues upside down for a day.

As if those same goddesses hadn't just ignored all of their prayers in the last hundreds of years you spent freely making their lives miserable.

You were stored in a vase. Not even a cool cool one. A plain clay vase deep within a temple under the ground. If you could choose, you'd have preferred something more majestic and up to the level of your power, but then again, it wasn't like you were in place to say anything in your defense.

Sometimes you just wondered how your small group of worshipers were. They probably weren't the best people out there, if you could say so yourself, but you were still curious if they ended up having similar fates to yours.

A long, long time later, you were "revived", for the same reason you were "killed".

Not the best choice on the part of whoever went through the trouble of doing all that, but who were you to judge? Or even to complain?

From what you could get from the boring evil monologue the guy in front of you was giving after having just woken you up from the longest nap you've ever had —since you couldn't really die— the guy wanted you to aid him in his quest to kill some other guys and take over the world or some boring nefarious plan like that.

You couldn't recall any of the names he just said, though, so you could only guess that you had either slept for a pretty damn long time, or you were in an entirely different world on itself.

Before you could fully decide on one of the two possibilities, the red guy sent you to fight against that group of guys he was talking about, seven men with varying shades of blonde hair along with two guys who weren't blond at all.

Perhaps you could have admired the strength of the red guy's magic, to just bring you out of your sleep like that and already straight up teleport you.

Thing is, you didn't really care enough to do that, you just did whatever you wanted the moment you realized you were fully conscious and in a physical body once again.

Were you chaotic and very much possibly evil? Yes. Were you stupid, however? Kinda No.

So the moment the opportunity presented itself, you followed those guys around, gathering information. Taking notice also of that one shadow looking dude, who was following them around just like you, seemingly with the intention of making their lives hell.

Maybe he'd be an interesting being to interact with, if he wasn't as prickly as a damn cactus. You swore you couldn't even approach the guy without him reacting like a startled cat, pointing his flimsy sword straight to your face. You swore to yourself you'd break that thing in half one of these days.

And so you set your sights fully on the blond —and the not so blond— guys, taking your time to also play around with the villages they went to and toy with the monster camps they passed by.

Of course, you couldn't just ignore the massively ominous aura drifting from the masks that one of the taller blondies carried around. Your hands itched to get a grasp on those things, whatever was sealed inside it was magical and possibly powerful, and the possibilities sent your mind on quite a dangerous frenzy.

The thing that made you a bit disappointed, however, was how long it took for them to notice your presence.

At some point you decided to start giving them some more obvious hints that what was following them wasn't friendly.

They seemed to really like bomb bags, which wasn't exactly safe for them when you could randomly activate those at will.

Also, you couldn't control the rain or storms, of course, but you definitely could attract lightning, especially since they all seemed to enjoy carrying around those identical metal swords.

Sometimes you just liked to pull on their hair and make knots on them, given that some had really long hair.

The wolf guy had a horse, one you could just startle really easily. Although you didn't have the result you wanted, since the wolf guy wasn't sent flying the moment his horse went crazy.

You caught him later, though. Making loud, high pitched noises to absolutely blow away his senses the moment he turned into a wolf to try and chase you down.

The fire that the short guy was using to mend a weapon randomly became overly strong, enough to have burned his whole arm, if he hadn't pulled away quick enough.

The scarf of the other one just one day became a bit too hard around his neck. It's a good thing for him that he was quick enough to pull it off his neck before he suffocated.

You watched as the one with pink hair almost had a breakdown, as all his colorful, shiny little trinkets and accessories having become dulled, turning completely pitch black, no traces of their original colors or magic left.

The kid tried to control the wind, only to have it blown straight back to his face, bringing leaves and sand with it.

You made sure their cook accidentally poured a bit too much pepper in their food, or salt, even sugar, if you felt like it.

The brown haired one suddenly lost control of his magic, what was supposed to heal their wounds ended up dyeing their hair blue for days on end.

That other guy who always overslept felt his pillow being pulled from under his head at random times through his nights.

And the tall guy's masks have all suddenly decided to disappear.

“Okay. Something is going on here. And it's not something natural.” Time sighed, looking around the camp, tired and worried, concerned.

Wild’s hair was an absolute mess and seemed to have caught on fire at some point, Warriors was glaring at his scarf, keeping it as far from his —almost purple— neck as possible. Wind had his hair almost as messy as Wild's, full of leaves and dirt, he was pretty sure there were also some bugs around it, his cheek had a thin cut from a sharp little rock.

Twilight was occupied comforting Epona, although the both of them seemed quite shaken up by something.

Four had some burns around the tips of his fingers, his hair usual blond hair now stained with blue, Hyrule sitting beside him with a frown, bandaging his hands rather than using his healing magic like he normally would.

Sky wasn't far from the two, almost dozing off despite the migraine that had settled behinds his eyes, which were now dotted with heavy bags from sleepless nights. Legend's terrible mood did not seem to disturb his need for a nap.

“Oh, really?” Legend almost growled back, positively fuming with barely contained rage gleaming in his eyes.

“Vet, I am not your enemy here, but once we find out who is doing this, you can direct your anger towards whoever they are.” Time shot a look to the other.

“That is, if it's even a person doing this. It might be some kind of monster.” Warriors commented.

“One thing we're sure of is that there's magic involved in this.” Hyrule spoke up, finished with the bandaging.

“I don't even know why you're so mad, Leg, you were possibly the least affected by this.” Four complained, eyebrows furrowed with stress. Even as a blacksmith, he was never a fan of getting burned, especially not being caught off guard like that!

“Agreed.” Wild was the next to speak, not bothering to brush the soot out of his hair. It wasn't quite the first time he almost been exploded, after all, even though the experience didn't get any better no matter how many times he went through it.

“You're really saying that, even though the kid only got a burst of wind to the face.”

“Ay! Mind your own business, Legend!” Wind sprung up in defense of himself, already looking to be tense prior to the attack, as the two began arguing.

While the group was in quite the mess, you took your chances to go ahead and approach stealthily to attempt to take the mask you were so curious about. Said mask being the last one you hadn't stolen borrowed yet, since the tall guy seemed to have noticed his other masks disappearances and decided to take extra means of protection towards that one.

In your opinion, your risks were all carefully thought out and calculated, however, you seemed to have completely forgotten about a certain wolf guy at the edge of the camp, standing beside his horse and looking straight at you.

You managed to grab the mask from the taller guy's belt! But at what price..?

Before you could even manage to turn around and run away with it, a hand shot out, hooking on the back of the collar of your shirt, pushing you to the ground in a second. And in another second, there was a blade shoved right in front of your face.

Goddammit.

You barely paid any attention to all the yelling, too occupied hugging your newly acquired possession tightly to your chest.

“Hand me that mask. Now.” A voice right behind you demanded, yet you still didn't move.

“No.”

The sword in front of you seemed to inch just slightly closer to your neck.

“At least tell me what it is, first!” You asked, a bit more squirmy, not at all comfortable with the vulnerability you had right now, since it seemed like that long sleep left you with a bit less power than you used to have, clearly a precaution, should you ever gain you body back. It was smart from your captors, but very much annoying for you.

“None of your business, now give me back my mask!” The tall guy —now in front of you— stressed. You could tell that his restlessness was hinting towards just how near he was to the end of his wits.

“If this piece of porcelain is as powerful as it seems, then yes, yes it is my business!”

It wasn't, not really, but you were too curious to just give up on information just like that.

The tall guy went quiet for a second before he finally replied, going with a question instead of actually giving you an answer like you were expecting from him.

“How do you know how powerful it is?”

“None of your business.” You threw his own words back at him and now the dull side of the sword was suddenly pressing up pretty uncomfortably against your skin, burning you. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you.”

And that was how you met the Links, and also how you became chained to them, unable to leave. After all, you did have to pay them back for all that you did to every single one of them.

But, for some reason, that simple dept seemed to only to get bigger the longer you spent time with them, despite the fact you weren't doing anything entirely wrong…

At least, that was the excuse they gave to you, yet something in you made you feel like that wasn't the full truth.

Extra (This happened)

Time: give me back my shit

Reader: nuh-uh

Time: fym nuh-uh

[cheriladycl01]

So teach me - Sergio Perez x Trainee F1 Rookie! Reader

Plot: Sergio wants to take a year or two out leaving an open seat in Red Bull and who better for Christian Horner to get besides Red Bull is the Red Bull Trainee who was there reserve driver last year and has been training for this moment.

"Sergio, are you serious?" Christian asks his second Red Bull member, Sergio had just come to him telling him he wouldn’t be renewing his contract with Red Bull and that he felt 2025 was a good time to take some earned leave from the sport. and not fully retire he had requested to be a mentor for the youth Red Bull drivers. Before he took time with his family, he knew he'd come back in a year or two, but as of now his family were where he needed to be at.

“Yes, I’m being serious. I want to spend more time with my family” he admits. It was getting draining, the travelling back and forth and not seeing his wife and children for weekends on end.

“Okay, but I’m putting you with the hardest piece of work you’ll ever meet in Motorsports, she’s driven to succeed and is a phenomenal driver but she has … well let’s just say she isn’t the easiest person to get along with and she’s put us all through hell. So if you are serious about this, that's who you have to mentor. She's quite frankly the only person I trust to take your place" Christian said, already thinking about how the hell they are going to announce the new line up for 2025.

It was lucky really, Audi were coming onto the scope in 2026, and there was talk that they were keen on giving you a seat since you were doing so well. So maybe this was actually a good thing, as it scared Christian more thinking of you in an Audi than Sergio out of a Red Bull.

"She's in the back, you can go meet her" he advises pointing a pen towards the garage where they stored different components and the spare wheels.

He walked through looking for someone that would potentially be this absolute piece of work that Christian had made you out to be. You from the way described were clearly on the younger agenda of the grid and he knew communicating with you may be hard because of that but what he didn't expect was a complete and utter lunatic.

He took one look at you and assumed you were basically feral, you had your helmet on, stereo in hand walking towards the garage where his and Max's cars were banging your head to the loud and aggressive music.

"Oh lord" Sergio breathes out looking at you, already knowing this would be a long 3 months of him training you.

"Y/N please turn that down! We're trying to work" one of the engineers working on the car complains as he puts the power drill down on the edge, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Arghhh fine Marcino, but you know you love my music" you grinned taking your helmet off. Your curly hair came falling out around it, in messy knots.

"Y/N?" Sergio calls out and looks over to you, he steps forward into the garage and smiles at you extending a hand. You shake it, clearly you had some kind of manners and decorum, he couldn't help but think.

"What's up old man?" you stifle a laugh trying to look as serious as possible.

"Old man? I'm only 34!" he exclaims looking at his hands to see if he could in fact pass himself off as an old man.

"Well, old to me" you smirk, picking up the bottle of squash you'd left on the workbench earlier, taking a quick swig from it.

"So, long story short. This old man is going on leave for a year or two and retire..." he starts trying to explain his situation to you.

"Oh so you are old old" you laugh giving him a pointed look.

"No- look let me finish, I'm retiring my car for a few seasons and for whatever reason Christian Horner wants you to take my seat, but before you do that I'm going to be training you" he offers and you place a hand on your hip, almost daring him to continue.

"And why may i ask do i need you to train me for this?" you asks, obviously you knew he was good at his job. It was Sergio Perez stood in front of you but that didn't mean your demeanor was up to slip and slide and make you look like an incompetent nobody.

"Come on, surly even you know that. I'm the only Red Bull in the last few years that has been able to keep up with Verstappen, you wanna give into the pressure like Gasly and Albon or do you want me to show you how to drive on par with the current world champion" he asks crossing his arms like a strict parent.

"God jheez alright. What do you want? You want me doing pressup's or neck training. Or time testing. Or you wanting me to show you how i can drive?" you ask looking at him.

"You think Christian flew you out to Abu Dhabi as a special guest? No your our test drive for tonight in free practice and you'll be driving my car with Verstappen"

"Oh its on" you say. The engineers step back observing the car.

"Go get into the suit Christian left for you, it'll be your first Red Bull racing suit" he says patting your back making you shrug off.

"Don't touch me bro" you say giving him the side eye before going and changing into your fireproofs and your suit. Navy blue looked good on you, you left with the Red Bull cap covering the face and walking back out to where Sergio had left you.

"You want some help getting in or?" Sergio asks awkwardly, looking at you as you walked round the car, a finger swiping around the halo as you got closer.

"Woah, I can drive the car I just cant get in it alone... that's really interesting how have i survived this long in motorsports its insane" you admit, looking over the car. One of the engineers hands you over your own helmet that someone had made look a little bit more like that off a Red Bull Driver.

"Alright enough with that sarcasm okay?" he frowns, he hands you the steering wheel and you place it in the car, you feel about getting familiar with it.

"Are you ready?" he asks slapping the visor down.

"Yeah" you smile, nodding at him.

You pull out onto the track, Verstappen pulled out after you which felt odd having a World Champion behind you on the track.

"Right, first lap do as normal get a lay for the track and what the car feels like. Then we can do a flying lap" the engineer advises.

You do as he says, testing the track. Your tires were good and the car felt powerful. You come around and some of the others pit, meaning its time for your flying lap.

"Push the car to the max without fucking it for Sergio okay?" the engineer offers, you chuckle a little into the radio finding it funny.

"Why put me in the damn car if you think im going to wreck it, no trust in me whatsoever" you frown, shaking you head a little before putting your foot down.

You were an amazing driver, however it seemed to most that you were fearless and a rather aggressive driver. Suitable to be able to match Max's driving style, however as a rookie you still had your mistakes and over or under judgements that in races would cost you places and potentially put you at risk.

You managed to complete two flying laps by the timer had run out for FP1.

"What are the positions?" you ask.

"Oscar in first, your in second and George in third" making you gasp in shock, you knew you'd drive quick but you didn't think it was top 3.

"Where did you learn to drive like that" Sergio asks you as you hopped out the car. You pull your helmet off and then your balaclava your hair falling around your face in a mess of tangled curls.

"Practice, by watching races? Why?" you say not really sure what else to say. You'd never had like a specific mentor, it was just the radio engineer and the team you were with giving you pointers in the debriefs on how to improve.

"You take angles that you shouldn't far to tight, making your tire management awful. Your aggressive and nearly took out Lando today, because he was slower on the straight. You have lots to learn" he admits crossing your arms. You got to argue back, having disagreed with the prior statements but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"So teach me..." you say leaning against his car.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @peachiicherries

[winwintea]

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ᴠꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ↬ 5. tea time!

“Can you stop pacing the fucking room like you’re getting ready for the damn fitness gram pacer test?” Ten drawled from the bed in their tiny shared apartment, one leg dangling off the edge. He gave Mark a pointed look, “If you’re this obsessed with her, maybe it’s time to dump your fake high school girlfriend, don’t you think?”

Mark kept pacing, barely registering Ten’s words. His mind was tangled up in thoughts of you, spinning faster with each step. “I’ve never been so sure about anything…” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Ten sighed, tilting his head back dramatically. “Yeah, then you should break up with your fake high school girlfriend,” he repeated, louder this time.

Mark only half-heard, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What was that?”

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Ten slouched back onto the bed. Clearly, Mark was in too deep to hear reason. Ten picked up his phone, his fingers tapping out a quick message to the one person who might snap his roommate out of whatever the hell this was.

Moments later, Mark’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He barely had time to check the screen before his sister’s voice pierced the air.

“Are you seriously thinking about juggling two girls?” Chuu’s voice was a mix of disbelief and exasperation, loud enough to make Mark wince.

“Not even!” Mark groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not like that!”

“Well, then you should break up with your fake high school girlfriend,” Chuu echoed Ten’s advice, hoping to hammer the point home.

Mark’s pacing faltered. “Wait—how did you even know about that?” 

“Ten told me, obviously,” she replied, as if the answer couldn’t be more obvious.

Mark turned to his roommate, sprawled out on the bed, already knocked out cold with his phone still clutched loosely in his hand. “He’s not even conscious!” he exclaimed, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Whatever,” Chuu said breezily. “Anyway, you of all people should know what it’s like to get cheated on.”

“Don’t remind me,” Mark muttered darkly, the memory making his jaw tighten. “And shouldn’t you be working right now?”

Chuu’s tone suddenly brightened, as if she’d just remembered something important. “Oh, shoot! You’re right. I’ll text you later. And Mark—try not to do anything dumb, okay?”

Before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving Mark standing there, phone in hand, and the weight of Chuu’s words lingering in the room.

Too bad Mark had a date in a few minutes, leaving him with little time to care about anything else. 

He glanced at his phone, hoping to see your name lighting up the screen. But instead, a message from an unknown number greeted him. Frowning, he opened it and began to read aloud, “Dear Mr. Lee, it has come to my attention that we will be fighting soon. My name is Park Jisung, and I’m ‘blah blah blah,’ fair warning, ‘blah blah blah,’ yada yada…” He trailed off, already bored, and rolled his eyes. “This is boring! Delete!”

With a dismissive tap, he hit "Delete." Mark had more pressing matters, like his date with you—the real priority for the evening.

Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, a grin spreading across his face. Tonight was going to be the best night of his life, and no random text was about to ruin it. 

—

Mark spotted you at the top of the stairs, your silhouette outlined against the fading twilight. “Why are you just standing there?” he called out, his breath puffing in the cold air.

You glanced back, “Dude, I’m totally waiting on you.” You checked the time pointedly. “Five minutes late.”

Mark winced, glancing at his own watch as if to confirm the accusation. “Sorry, I just figured you were too cool to be on time,” he said, his tone apologetic.

“Well. You assumed wrong.” There was a hint of amusement in your eyes, and your tone was almost mocking.

As you both began making your way down the winding park pathways, the crunch of snow beneath your boots filled the silence. The chill seemed to seep through your jackets, each gust of wind sending a shiver down your spines.

“So, how’d you end up in Toronto?” Mark asked, his voice casual but his curiosity hard to disguise.

You shrugged, exhaling a cloud of steam into the frigid air. “Just needed to escape, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” Mark repeated, his interest piqued despite his efforts to sound nonchalant. 

You hesitated, then continued as though you hadn’t heard the question. “Chenle always said Toronto was one of the great cities, so…” Your words trailed off, as if there was more left unsaid.

Mark's brow furrowed as he stole a glance at you. The way you looked ahead, your eyes distant and thoughtful, made him wonder what exactly you were running from—or who. “Is Chenle… Is he your boyfriend?”

You turned your gaze into the distance, unsure of what to say, “He’s… a friend,” you said carefully.

Mark couldn't help but press further. “Was he your boyfriend?”

You stiffened slightly, your breath hanging in the air as you weighed your response. “Do you mind if we don’t get into that right now?”

Mark scoffed lightly, but the forced chuckle at the end was a bit too loud, a bit too strained. “Yeah, no, totally. I mean, it’s not like I’m dying to know or anything,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “So not interesting to me.”

The two of you decide to sit on some swings. You kicked at the snow with your boots, and Mark glanced at you before the inevitable question came up. “So, what about you? What do you do?” you asked, genuine curiosity in your voice.

Mark winced internally. That was exactly the topic he’d hoped to avoid. “I’m… between jobs,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

You tilted your head, eyebrows raised. “Between what and what?”

He chuckled, a bit sheepishly. “My last job’s a long story... filled with a lot of sighs.”

You nodded, your gaze drifting upward towards the sky once again. “I know plenty of those,” you murmured, seemingly nostalgic.

“Is that why you left California?” Mark asked, his tone softening, as if careful not to push too hard.

“Pretty much,” you replied, shrugging. “It was time for a change, somewhere a little more… chilled.”

Mark laughed, gesturing to the snow swirling around them. “Well, it’s certainly chilled here.”

You smiled, a genuine one this time, and the look in your eyes seemed to soften a little. “Yeah, I guess so,” you said, and for a moment, the distance between you seemed to shrink.

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I’m totally obsessed with you.”

The words hung in the air, escaping his lips faster than he could reel them back in. His eyes widened, and he gripped the chains of the swing, unsure if he should backtrack or just jump into the snow and disappear. But you thankfully respond before he could backtrack, “I didn’t mean to get you obsessed.”

“Well, I just haven’t been obsessed with a girl for a long time. It’s... weird,” he admitted.

“That’s probably because you sleep with a guy.” 

Mark blinked. Wait… What?

You grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction. “I mean, I was guessing based on your apartment situation, but you totally do, don’t you?”

His hands flew up defensively, trying to defend himself from the homosexual allegations probably running through your head. “Whoa, no, it’s not like that! We’re just poor, okay? We can’t afford two beds! We’re not—well, actually, Ten is... he’s pretty gay.” The words tumbled out faster than he could organize them, his face reddening as he stumbled over his explanation.

You burst into genuine laughter, doubling over as the sound echoed in the crisp night air. “Relax, dude. I believe you. Trust me, you’re way too desperate to be gay.”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I feel so stupid right now.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” you teased, hopping off your swing and extending a hand toward him. “You’re probably not that stupid.”

Mark accepted your hand, letting you pull him to his feet as he tried to muster some dignity. “I’m mostly… stupid,” he confessed, his smile sheepish.

“Well, you’re definitely stupid if you want to go out with me,” you said, turning to continue down the path with a sly grin.

Mark nodded, falling into step beside you. “Exactly, yeah.”

The snowfall seemed to get heavier with each step, “This is ridiculous,” you muttered, brushing a layer of snow off your shoulders. “Isn’t it, like, April?”

Mark let out a weary sigh. “That’s Toronto for you. One minute, it’s spring, and the next, it’s a snowstorm. I can barely even see you anymore,” he added, squinting through the white haze. “This whole thing is turning into a disaster.”

You shrugged, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I’d say ‘act of God’ is a pretty solid excuse for a lousy date.”

Mark’s ears perked up at that, a grin tugging at his lips. “So, this is a ‘date,’ huh?” 

You spun around to face him, your expression playful. “Did I say ‘date’? Must’ve been a slip of the tongue.”

“Tongue…” Mark echoed absentmindedly, his brain short-circuiting on that word for a beat too long.

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Anyway,” you continued, letting him off the hook, “the night’s not over yet. Wanna come over for some tea? I promise it’s warmer than standing out here.”

Mark’s breath hitched slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Sure?” he replied, trying to sound casual.

—

“What kind of tea do you want?” 

Mark looked at you as you began slipping out of your coat and draping it over the back of a chair. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, but Mark was still shivering slightly as he sat at the dining table, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “There’s more than one kind?” 

You walked over to the pantry and began scanning the rows of tea, listing them off with an exaggerated singsong voice. “Let’s see… we have blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, liver disaster—”

“Liver disaster?” Mark interrupted, a skeptical look forming on his face.

You continued ignoring his question, “Ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle, blueberry chamomile, vanilla walnut, constant comment, and Earl Grey,”. You reached for a blueish-gray tin. “I’m going with sleepytime.”

Mark chuckled, “Did you make some of those up? ‘Liver disaster’ doesn’t exactly sound like a best-seller.”

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder. “You’d be surprised. Some people really need it.”

“I’ll have sleepytime, too,” As you measured out the tea leaves, the soothing aroma began to fill the room, but Mark still felt chilly.

“Let me get you a blanket.” You say after placing down two mugs of warm tea down on the table. 

“That would be actually… really awesome.”

Author’s Note: author went insane writing this next bit so don’t take it seriously but also take it seriously at the same time because it’s the plot I was just in a goofy mood while writing.

You’d only been out of the room for a few minutes when Mark’s curiosity—or impatience—got the better of him. Everyone say it with me now: What the fuck, Mark. But hey, Mark did it anyway. He wandered upstairs, hands shoved in his pockets.

As he reached the landing, he noticed a half-open door and peeked in. And, wow, shocker—guess what he saw? There you were, standing in front of your closet, wearing just a bra and a skirt.

“Uh, dude, I’m changing?” You turned to look at him, not embarrassed or flustered, just visibly annoyed by the intrusion.

Mark's brain short-circuited for a second before he slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just… cold!” he blurted out, as if that somehow justified his sudden appearance upstairs.

Let’s be real here: What did he expect? Really not entirely sure guys, I’m just the narrator here. But don’t worry, folks, Mark’s got morals. He kept his hand firmly over his eyes, not daring to peek. 

“Here, does this help?” Your voice was suddenly much closer than before, soft and warm in the dimly lit room.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open to find you wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “That’s… very warm,” he mumbled, his breath hitching at the unexpected closeness. “What is that?”

“It’s me, obviously,” you teased, but your tone was gentler than before. 

“Ohhh…kaaayyy” The two of you stood there, inches apart, and something shifted in the air between you. The moment stretched, and then, without overthinking it, Mark leaned in, closing the distance in one swift motion as your lips met in a slow, heated kiss.

For a few seconds, the rest of the world disappeared, replaced only by the warmth and the taste of each other. When you finally broke apart, Mark felt like he was in heaven.

“Were you… just planning to bring a blanket from your bed?” He asked, glancing at the blanket thrown across your bed. 

“I guess…” You replied, extremely casually.

“Maybe… maybe we should both get under it,” He suggested, his eyes searching yours. “Since, you know, we’re still so cold.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of anticipation and disbelief. “Well… what about our tea?”

“I can… skip the tea,” he whispered, his eyes still captivating your own.

And just like that, the room seemed even warmer than before.

Even though the atmosphere was perfect and the two of you were tangled up on the bed in what Mark could only describe as the most amazing makeout session of his life, everything came to a sudden halt when you pulled away, sitting up, breaking the flow.

“I changed my mind,” you said, your tone calm but firm.

Mark blinked, his breath still a little uneven. “Changed it to what? From what?”

You lay back on the bed, turning onto your side and gazing up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to have sex with you, Lee. Not right now.”

“Oh… okay,” Mark replied, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift.

“It’s not like I’m gonna send you home in a snowstorm,” you added, curling up closer to him. “You can stay. Sleep in my bed, even. And just so you know, I reserve the right to change my mind about the sex later.”

He took a moment to process the situation, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It wasn’t what he expected, but as he glanced over at you, a wave of relief and contentment washed over him. After all, here he was, lying in bed with someone who an hour ago seemed completely out of reach.

“This is cool,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Just this. It’s been a really long time since… well, since anything like this. I think I needed it. Whatever ‘this’ is. So, thanks.”

You turned your head toward him, a soft smile lighting up your face. “You’re welcome.”

—

“I have to work.”

Mark was jolted awake, blinking against the morning light as he saw you standing by the bathroom door, wrapped in a towel. His heart skipped a beat in relief—you were still here. “Work?” he echoed, his voice groggy.

“You have to leave,” you repeated, already moving across the room to gather your things.

Moments later, the two of you were dressed and out the door. You tossed on a pair of roller skates, gliding effortlessly toward the front gate with Mark walking alongside you. The sight was almost surreal—here you were, rolling away, while he stumbled through the fog of his half-awake thoughts.

“Hey,” he called out, jogging a few steps to catch up. “Can this not be a one-night stand? For one thing, I didn’t even get any—” He stopped himself when he noticed the look you shot him. “Kidding! That was a joke. Totally a joke.”

You raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Uh…” Mark hesitated, trying to come up with something. Then it hit him. “Come to the first round of this battle of the bands thing,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

You looked at him, unimpressed. “You have a band?”

“Yeah, we’re… terrible. Please come.”

You lingered at the gate for a moment, considering it. Then you gave a small nod. “We’ll see,” you replied, skating off down the sidewalk with a casual wave over your shoulder.

Mark watched you glide away, a goofy grin spreading across his face despite the early morning chill. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either—and that was more than enough for him.

prev ↤ masterlist ↦ next

SUMMARY ↬ mark has never wanted anything in his life. the lead bassist for 'dream on', unemployed, and quite literally a loser, mark expects he's hit rock bottom from here. that is until you, the girl of his dreams quite literally skates out of his dreams and into his life. mark has never wanted anything more. but is love really worth the emotional baggage when you have seven evil exes, who each possess superpowers and are intent on defeating him?

GENRES ↬ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, fantasy au, band au, scott pilgrim au, explicit(?), gay people (ten) help mark find true love

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ god mark lee. writing this version of him makes me wanna kms. HE IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE BUT ALSO... loser mark... he really has my heart too. poor haneul though. dw guys y/n is also a red flag that's why they're perfect for each other. was also gonna add music for this chapter, i'll add it later i was too lazy.

TAG LIST (open!) ↬ @lyvhie @ldh0000 @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @spiderm444rk @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @lotties-readings @nessaassen02 @alethea-moon @222brainrot @kittydollzz @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @wony1e @whr4nakin @chenlesfavorite @onlyhyunjin @peterm4rker @anglswon @itsashley127 @morkiee @lotties-readings @syatchy @starfilledgaze @bee-the-loser @p-d1ddy @polarisjisung @nctrawberries @luluvhs @zuzu-the-simp @mystverse (if your username isn’t in blue/grey, please check your visibility settings so i can properly tag you <33)

[tokyo-debunkers-headcanons]

ahh since ur requests are open may I pls request the frostheim ghouls (and possibly leo? LOL) and how you think they would make it up to mc after making them upset? Preferably some hurt/comfort if possible but whatever is easiest for you!

Ahhhh my first request! Thank you for sending it in! Also I'm so sorry for any typos in these headcanons, I'm just dumb (so sorry to the Jin Kamurai fans) and this is assuming you guys are at least good friends (if not more) at this point in time.

JIN KAMURAI

Okay, real talk. I think Jin is terrible with emotions. Even worse when he's done something wrong. I don't think he'd ever SAY that he's wrong or that he's sorry. But we all know he's got that cash money, so I think he'd order MC to go somewhere with/for him and treat them as a unspoken apology. Like he's ordering them to pick something up for him, somewhere in the academy, and gives them some 'pocket change' to buy their lunch. (STOP! DRABBLE TIME!)

MC was considering telling Jin to shove it, but they knew it would end up biting them in the ass, so they walked through Frostheim, dragging their feet. They were less than thrilled to be going back to the Frostheim captain's room. Sooner than they'd like, they were standing outside of his door. Before they could knock like they usually did, the door swung open, revealing Jin, his eyes narrowed, he held out a small stack of documents to them, dropping them in their hands. He turned his back to them curtly saying,

"Get these to Professor Dante. Now."

MC wanted to say something. To snap back at him but they paused when they felt something at the bottom of the stack of documents. Upon further inspection, it was a wad of big bills. At a glance it was at least 100,000 yen (about 1,000 USD). MC's eyes went wide at the stack of bills, they looked back up at Jin's retreating figure. They were about to question why, when all he said was,

"Get something to eat once your done. Thats an order"

With that, he closed the door and ended the discussion.

TOHMA ISHIBASHI

Okay, Tohma on the other hand I think is better with emotions than Jin. But he's still not the best. He at least knows how to apologize...he's just bad at saying it. I feel like Tohma is more of an acts of service person (duh) than a verbal person if that makes sense. If he's upset MC its easier for him to do small things to apologize than to actually say the words. (here is your order of drabble, freshly written)

Tohma watched MC carefully behind his monocle, he knew they were upset and why. But he hadn't expected them to stay upset for this long. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he waited until they would return the next day to finalize some documents with the second year ghouls. When the time came, Tohma took their jacket and prepared the a special blend of tea and biscuits for them while they worked on the papers. The practiced smile always on his face. After some time he returned with a tray, presenting it in front of them, his expression softer than before. When he set it down, all he said was,

"I've taken the liberty of bringing you something to eat. You've been working diligently as of late, among...other reasons. I hope you enjoy your meal"

With that, he swiftly left them to their work and their thoughts, giving them space.

KAITO FUJI

Kaito here is on the entire opposite side of that spectrum. He has absolutely no problem saying the words, but even if he was forgiven the first time, he still doesn't think its enough. So if anything, he does too much. He'll buy them flowers and chocolates to gain their forgiveness. It almost seems insincere how much he apologizes but he really does mean. Its more that his insecurities get the better of him and he doubts himself, so they might need to knock some sense into him for it to actually get through to him that he's been forgiven. Please be patient with him, he just really likes MC and he gets most of his advice from crappy magazines. (TO THE DRABBLE!)

Kaito held the bouquet of flowers in his arms tightly and held out the box of chocolates to MC. They had already told him that it was okay, but it didn't *feel* okay to him. There was a small voice in his head telling him that they were still upset with him. He had sent them a text, asking to meet in the library of DA academy. When MC arrived however, they sighed deeply, walking directly up to Kaito with a scowl on their face, saying,

"Kaito. I told you that its okay, you don't need to keep doing these kinds of gestures. If I was still upset with you, I wouldn't have shown up here to begin with"

Kaito's face went pale. He should have known they were smart enough to see right through him and his plan. He sighed, saying.

"I know you did i just-...I just wanted to be sure we were still cool....I'm sorry"

MC shook their head, their expression getting softer, they pulled out a chair from one of the tables in the library and sat down, saying,

"I'll forgive you, if you promise not to do anymore of these gestures....and you split those chocolates with me"

Kaito softly smiled and sat beside them, setting the flowers aside and the chocolates between them, he was so glad to know someone as sweet as MC.

LUCAS ERRANT

Lucas I think is closer to the middle of the spectrum. He's pretty literal and like I said before, he's not the best with social cues. From what I gather, he's more used to people saying what they mean. So if MC told them they were fine, he might worry at first, but he'd let it go, trusting MC enough to think they'd always tell him what was on their mind. If they do however tell him that they're still upset, that's different. If they were still upset I think he'd give them another apology and some bisuits. If that wasn't enough, then I think he's the type of guy to tell them stories about himself. Either about him and or his twin brother when they were little. Like really be vulnerable with them. (YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD! DRABBLE! YOU TAKE 420 LIFE POINTS WORTH OF DAMAGE!)

Lucas had been worried about MC ever since they last saw eachother. Something about them had seemed off in a way. He was even more worried when he got a text from them asking to meet him in Frostheim's main entrance. He quickly grabbed his things and raced off to Frostheim. When he arrived MC was standing inside, their face somber. He reached them, immediately asking,

"MC! Are you alright? Did something happen?"

He gave them a quick once over, even gently grabbing their wrist to look it over, making sure they weren't injured. When MC snapped their arm out of his grasp, he looked up at them surprised. When they explained that they were still upset with him, he understood. He asked them to follow him to one of the secluded balconies at Frostheim. When they arrived, it was silent for the first few moments. Luca pressing his hands against the balcony railing and looking up at the sky. Before MC could break the silence, Luca softly spoke,

"I've never been the best at putting myself in the shoes of others...at least not without guidance....Jin has told me so, and even my brother....when we were little I would always have trouble whenever he would get upset with me. He told me he was fine, but he never was. I suppose I still have quite a bit to learn about others around me...I'm truly sorry MC. I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me"

LEO KUROSAGI

Leo won't apologize. Let's be honest. If you think Jin is bad, Leo is WORSE. I think because of his fame and looks, that he's used to getting his way, even if he's a dick about it. I feel like he learned early on that the world is a cold cruel place and that saying you're sorry is admitting that you were wrong about something. Leo is 100% the kind of guy to expect them to get over whatever it is he did, even if it was something really bad. Man has like no moral compass, anything is on the table, even if it's deeply personal. I he'd get bored and keep sending you dumb tiktoks or meme's to get you to talk to him and hang out again. At MOST I think he'd trap you into going out somewhere with him and he'd treat you. Like get you a Starbucks drink or something, but thats it. And if MC won't go out with him, he'll come to them with two new trendy Starbucks drinks and his tablet ready to watch some shitty reality TV and make fun of the cast.

Leo glared down at his phone with a huff, MC hadn't reacted to any of his tiktoks or memes, not even the sad cat ones! It had been a few days since they'd went out. Sho was busy with his own thing so Leo had no one else to bet with. He dramatically sighed and immediately started to look through MC'S social media on his phone. He noticed that they'd like a post on the new drinks at Starbucks and started to formulate a plan. He dragged Sho away from him project and got to work.

MC sat on their bed, relaxing after a long day of classes, waiting to hear from professor Hyde which house they were going to be assigned to next. A knock at the front door echoed throughout the old cathedral, startling them. When MC got up and answered the door, Leo stood there with a cup holder and his signature impish smile,

"Hey MC! You didn't show up so I came here!"

Leo pushed past them and looked around, visible disgust on his face before turning to MC, his smile slapping back onto his face, saying,

"I can't believe you live like this! But whatever! Come one i brought my tablet with the new housewives season and the new spicy dragon fruit drink from Starbucks. Where has the best lighting in this shithole? I need to post about it before we start watching"

Leo handed them the drink, looking around before he found their bedroom, making himself comfortable and moving some of their things around to make a mini photo shoot for the drink. Once he was done, MC had finally found him, sitting on her bed and drinking what he brought. He saw them and gently pat beside him on the bed, saying,

"C'mon! How can you stay mad at a handsome devil like me? Now come here, I NEED to know what happens to Bethenny Frankel!"

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

hey could I be 🦕, if it's not taken?

I also have a request lol, could u do a meltdown comfort fic? ( definitely not requesting this be I had a meltdown over not having the right pasta sauce for my comfort/safe food) like where a male reader has a bunch of little things built up and it spills over when there's no more of readers comfort/safe food and they end up lashing out and having a meltdown because of it

anyways have a good evening,thx!

Hiya, I'm really sorry thats taken 😔 (I need to make a list lmao) - assuming you're not the other 🦕 anon currently in my drafts 😅

I hope this is okay, I don't have autism or meltdowns, so feel free to let me know if I've gotten anything wrong. I don't think the reader in this has a meltdown, he was distressed and then stims to regulate his emotions. But yeah, feel free to let me know if I get anything wrong, I don't want to offend anyone or anything.

Warnings: reader is distressed, meltdown

"(Y/N)? What's wrong-"

"Can you just fuck off?!" Everyone falls silent as the words burst from your mouth. You immediately look down, mentally scolding yourself for yelling at Hotch like that. Hotch. Of all people. Who had been nothing but kind to you since you joined. Who always made sure you were okay. Who was also your boss. "I- I'm sorry-" Your voice is quiet and Hotch has to strain his ears to hear you.

Instead of yelling, like everyone assumed he would, his gaze softens as he looks at you. "How about we head up to my office for a few minutes, okay?" His voice is reassuring and is doing nothing for your guilt and the dread for what he would say when it was just the two of you.

You hadn't meant to snap at him, but everything had just built up and built up and it was your tipping point. You should have just gone home.

It had started this morning when it turns out you had run out of milk - meaning you couldn't have cereal and a cup of coffee for breakfast. Then, you couldn't find the socks you had planned on wearing, you missed the early bus because of how long you had tried to find the socks you wanted to wear, and that made you almost late for work. And then, when you opened the fridge, it turns out someone had eaten the last of your safe foods you kept stocked up in the fridge.

You knew no one on the team would have taken it, they knew you were particular about your food (that's how you had worded it when you first joined the team - they knew the reasoning behind it now, of course but its still how you described it). And they always tried their best to make sure that you had food in the fridge that you liked.

You follow him to his office silently, you don't miss the look he shoots the rest of the team - who quickly make themselves look busy. So you don't feel more on edge than you already do. Your heart twinges at this. You had just yelled at him and here he was, being incredibly sweet to you.

When you reach his office, he shuts the door gently behind him and motions to the couch, you sit. "You don't have to speak until you're ready, whatever you need to do to help regulate your emotions is okay."

You take a moment to process his words before you give a small nod. It takes a few seconds before you gently start to rock, humming gently to yourself. Hotch sits down on the couch, at the other end. He wanted you to know he was there if you needed him, but enough space to do what you needed to. He slowly picked up the book on the coffee table, flicking to the page he was currently on.

Eventually, when your stimming comes to an end, Hotch closes the book. He had been keeping a close eye on you, not really paying attention to the book. He had just wanted to make you comfortable.

"You weren't reading," You state quietly.

"I wasn't," Hotch says with a nod.

"Thank you," You reply. You knew what he was doing - he had done it a few times during similar situations.

"That's alright," He gives a small (rare) smile, "Did you want to talk about what's going on?"

"It's just been a bad day." You shrug, "No coffee, no breakfast, wrong socks, and now no safe food," You felt your cheeks tint pink ever so slightly in embarrassment.

Hotch just nods, "I understand. What snack in particular were you craving?"

"I wanted a chocolate muffin," You shrugged, running a hand over your face. All you could think about was how stupid this all was.

"Is that the Starbucks one?" When you nod, Hotch smiles slightly and rummages about in his desk. "I had a feeling that this might happen at some point. So I stocked up on your safe foods." He said, pulling out a muffin. "There you go. As for drinks, take whatever you fancy,"

You look up, eyes slightly wide at the unexpected kindness. "Thank you,"

"That's alright, and (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"Anytime you're feeling overwhelmed, or if the day isn't going quite right, you're more than welcome to come sit up here, okay?"

"Okay."