#you haven’t won don’t go doing a victory lap now

[beastking-golion]

I need y’all to focus on the reason the shooting happened over making memes about everything for once in your lives.

[jerzwriter]

Boggles the Mind

Crossing fandoms here! I reached out to Choices beloved @/artbyainna on IG and asked if she would be willing to try a commission for Joel and Ellie from The Last of Us. The brilliant woman said anything that gives her reason to ogle Pedro Pascal is a-ok in her book - and this gorgeous creation is the result! Ainna, as always, is a freaking gift!

I wanted to capture a simple, fun night shared between the two after arriving in Jackson. I hope the art warms your heart as much as it did mine, and I hope the silly little fic below brings you a smile or two.

Fandom: The Last of Us Featuring: Ellie Williams, Joel Miller, Tommy Miller Warnings: None, just cursing Words: 944 Summary: Joel and Ellie have been making good use of that Boggle game, but who is the victor in this contest?

~~~~~

She had really gotten a knack for this. Not only could Ellie keep her eye on the timer while furiously scribbling away on the shred of paper resting on her knee, but she was now even able to sneak a peek or two at her competition as she did.

Her increasingly frustrated competition.

“That’s it! Stop writing, Joel!” she hollered, smacking his arm for effect.

Joel winced silently, attempting to block his paper from her view, but Ellie was too quick. Stretching her neck, she peered at his answers while furtively holding her own list close against her chest.

“HA!” She roared, raising her fists in victory. “Fuck yes!! I won again! Pay up, old man!”

Joel’s eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted in bemused annoyance. Deep down, he loved how this old game lifted her spirits, but sometimes…

“Now, how do you figure that? We haven’t even tallied up the scores yet. Hell, I haven’t even seen your answers!”

“No need,” Ellie goaded with pride. “My list is at least twice as long as yours… so even if I have to cross half of mine out, I still win. Now quit stalling and pay up!”

“Give me that,” Joel blustered, grabbing Ellie’s list from her lap. “Half of these words are curses! They don’t even count.”

“Uh, Joel… we’ve been over this already,” she sang. Putting on a sour face and lowering her voice several decibels, she turned her head and mimicked Joel.

‘Uh, Ellie… remember our conversation about curses not counting?’ she teased.

“Uh, no, Joel… because we never had the conversation…."

'I think we did. I distinctly remember us discussing it.'

"Well, then we’re going to have to have Maria send you to the infirmary because I think dementia may be settling in sooner than we anticipated.”

She reached over and snatched the two sheets of paper back from Joel, who softly chuckled despite himself.

“So, shall we tally up?” she winked.

Joel watched as she quickly crossed out duplicates and added up points on the margins of the page.

“Shit! No wonder you keep trying to get curses taken out… I know like ten times more than you do. I can see how that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not true!” he insisted. “I know plenty more than you. I’m just… I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

Ellie’s head shot up, her brows all but reaching the top of her forehead.

“Really? That’s why you have fucker and fuckface… which I would argue is two words and therefore doesn't count… on your list, Mr. Trying-to-be-a-Gentleman.”

Tommy had silently entered the room and was pouring himself a drink, his lips pursed in an attempt to contain his laughter. Ever since Joel and Ellie returned to Jackson, he felt like he had his own personal sitcom at his disposal. But he wasn’t quiet enough, and Ellie jumped at the opportunity to reel him in. 

“Tommy! What do you say? Is fuckface one or two words?” She implored.

“Oh, no way,” Tommy simpered. “I am not getting in the middle of this one.”

“The hell you aren’t!” Joel insisted. “Come on! You're my brother… back me up!”

“Tomster,” Ellie chided. “Can you maybe grow some hair on them and answer… we can handle the truth.”

Joel shot his younger brother a look of persuasion. “You heard the lady. So, one word or two?”

Tommy took a moment to think, then cleared his throat before answering.

“I believe fuckface is a noun. Therefore, it is one word.”

“Yes!” Joel hissed, savoring his tiny victory as Ellie dramatically rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… whatever, I still kicked your ass. Final score, 17 for me, 9 for you… even with fuckface!”

“Let me see that!” Joel snapped, taking the papers back from her hands. Tommy looked over his brother's shoulder and met Ellie’s gaze with a grin.

“Looks like she beat you fair and square, hermano,” he ribbed as Joel crumbled the papers.

“Ha! YOU LOSE! Pay up, old man… pay up!”

“What are you two wagering, anyway?” Tommy asked.

“The cans of Chef Boyardee ravioli we found at that abandoned convenience store last week.”

“Chef,  Chef Boy…” Tommy muttered. “You two realize you’re not scavenging out there on the lam anymore… right? You act like you’re not getting three delicious,  homemade squares daily. Don’t even let Maria hear you talking like this.”

“Hey, with all due respect to the fine, and I do mean fine, cuisine you offer up here in Jackson… there is a certain… je ne sais quoi about Chef Boy that cannot be denied.”

“Je ne sais?” Joel stumbled. “What… we’re talking French now? You got any French words on that list because they sure don’t count!”

“Nope! I kicked your ass in plain old English,” she grinned, a smile so bright it warmed the man’s heart.

“Okay, fine!” He relented and retreated the canned delicacy from his jacket, tossing it Ellie’s way.

She caught it with one hand and beamed. “Yes!” She whispered as Tommy looked on with amusement.

“I can’t believe you’re stealing an old man’s ravioli,” Tommy teased.

“Hey, that’s slander! I’m not stealing. I won this fair and square! Besides,” she smiled at Joel, “he knows I’m going to share it with him anyway.”

“Then what’s the point of all this?!” Tommy squawked.

“Bragging rights,” the two answered in unison.

“Rights that I clearly have,” Ellie giggled.

“So what do you say, Joel?” She asked. “Want me to heat these up for a midnight snack.”

Shanking his head with a smirk, Joel leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.

“Go ahead. I’ll be waiting for you right here.”

Just gonna tag a few of my fellow TLOU fans; I hope you enjoy it! @icecoffee90 @a-crepusculo @danijimenezv @bex-la-get @writer-ish @annfg8 @kyra75 @missameliep @inlocusmads @cariantha @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks and, Bree, I'm tagging you for Pedro, not TLOU lol @jamespotterthefirst

[daechwitatamic]

Faithful || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon) - thank you so much for the super fast turnaround on this!!!!)

Title: Faithful - a Complete Faith epilogue

WC: 3.7k

Warnings: explicit sex, kissing, language - minors DNI pls

The request/summary: Again, @pamzn is to blame for this. The request for the “cut-away” scene in Chapter 10 is here, as is the request for dinner with Taehyung’s lovingly nosy mom, and a few little scenes of where CF!Tae and OC end up.

Alternate Summary:

Note: I just want to say thank you to everyone who cared about these dummies with me along the way. :’) I appreciate your presence so much, and I hope my story brought you escape, peace, happiness - whatever you needed.

“Tae,” you start, “I want to apologize.” This gets his attention. He’s frowning, trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong. You continue, “I’m sorry for letting my fear be bigger than my trust. But I do trust you. I always did. I actually…”

You swallow, looking at the floor, then back at him. You have to be brave. It’s your turn to be brave. “Fuck, I actually love you. I’ve loved you since the lake. I think I’ve loved you since you threw a water bottle at me after we fought.”

You laugh a little, and he’s just looking at you, eyes still wide. You push on. Whatever happens, at least he’ll know.

“I remember you telling me that no one ever fought for you, no one made you feel like you’re worth the fight.” You spread your hands before you, like saying here I am. “I’m fighting. I want to be with you. I want to choose to trust you every day. I want to choose to love you every day.”

He’s pulling you by the wrist across the couch and into his lap, hands going for your face as soon as you’re close enough. You straddle him happily, heart soaring, pulse racing, as he kisses you again and again.

As you make your way into your room, still trying to kiss as you walk, you kick your bedroom door shut unceremoniously. There’s part of you that thinks you should maybe slow this down, talk things out a little more; you’d apologized, you’d climbed the hurdle and told Taehyung you love him - but what does it mean? Are you back together? 

It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, not now when his mouth is moving, hot and insistent, against your neck. Not now, when his hands are gripping your waist like he’s scared you’ll get tugged out of his grasp. Not now, when his forehead nudges your cheek, urging you to make more room for him in the crook of your neck, a happy, rumbling groan spilling from his throat.

The last time you’d kissed him, drunk on a dancefloor, it had felt like a bloody victory, like a hard-won battle littered with casualties. It was a moment tinged with darker glimmers - all the ugliness between you two, the guilt you carried at knowing you’d caused him pain, the ache of being without him, the uncertainty if it could mean anything beyond his mouth on yours. It had felt like: I’ve won, but at what cost? It felt like: I win, but as soon as it ends, I lose.

This time, it feels like coming home. 

It feels like breaking the surface of water after holding your breath just a few strained moments too long. 

It feels like the first moment of reprieve when you step inside out of a rainstorm, when the peppering of cold droplets and bite of battering wind suddenly stop, and even though you’re still cold and damp, it still feels so much better than it did a second ago.

You can’t decide what you want to do with your hands; they cup his face, tug his hair, hold fast to his biceps, sneak under the hem of his shirt. You want to touch all of him at once. You want to memorize what each centimeter of him feels like under your fingertips just in case you ever have to miss him again.

His shirt is off, somehow. You don’t notice a pause in the kissing when it happens. Your fingers skin the flat of his belly and he shudders, squirms. 

You’re still in the clothes you wore to work - you haven’t been home to change. Taehyung works his way back up your throat, teeth grazing just slightly - enough to raise goosebumps along your arm. He kisses you again, insistent still. He kisses you like he’s asking for more, every time. Kiss me more. Kiss me harder. 

He straightens and goes for the buttons of your blouse, eyes steady on yours. You look back at him evenly, drinking him in. You can’t believe how beautiful he is, sometimes. You can’t believe you get to claim him. You can’t believe he wants to claim you.

Your shirt and bra join Taehyung’s shirt on the ground. You both step over them, towards your bed. Taehyung’s large hands splay over your ribs, fingers settling naturally in the gaps between bones, like he’s trying to sink between them, finding the fastest route to your heart.

He presses his forehead to yours, inhales, holds his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers on the exhale. His fingers twitch against your ribcage. He shifts on his feet, presses his head more firmly against yours. “I’m so sorry for all of it.”

“Tell me after,” you murmur, fingers playing with the waistband of his sweatpants. “Wait until after, and we can both say how sorry we are.”

His hands leave your ribs to roam lovingly across your back, to tug you closer by your waist as he kisses you again. The empty spaces he leaves behind feel cold in his absence.

You experience a moment of deja vu as he unbuttons your black slacks, slides the zipper down, uses both hands to guide the waistband over the curve of your ass, leaving you only in a not-cute pair of underwear, since you hadn’t seen this coming at all when you got dressed for work that morning. Taehyung doesn’t seem to care, or even notice; he’s too busy running his busy fingers over all the parts of you he’s missed for the last few months - gripping your thighs, rubbing along your ass, slipping through the slickness seeping through the cotton of your panties, pressing just so over your clit, the way he remembers you like it, earning a hopeful, eager moan from you.

The deja vu because it feels a lot like your first time with him, after the first date he took you on. He’d been slow with you that night, eyes seeking yours constantly, checking for any sign that you weren’t enjoying something, or if you felt uncomfortable in any way. 

It had been an appreciated but wasted effort on his part; you wanted all of it, all of him, every touch, every sound, every look. 

It’s the same tonight. He’s being careful with you, and you don’t want careful.

Tonight, you’re burning, filled with an inferno - your confession and the months you’d spent painfully apart acting as accelerants. You can’t wait; it’s all on fire already.

“Touch me,” you beg him, and he gasps against your mouth as you continue. “Please, Taehyung, please touch me.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he teases, fingers pressing into your ass. You let him guide your hips forward, into his. You press against him needily, provocating. His sweatpants hide nothing, not the heat of him, nor the wet circle where his tip must be leaking.

“Don’t tease,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes, pressing even more insistently against him, as if you can entice him into doing what you want just from proximity and friction.

Maybe you can. He lowers his mouth to yours again, reaching down as he does to push his remaining clothing over his hips and down his legs. The movement sends you backwards towards the bed, the kiss breaking, and you let your back meet the mattress, scooting back to make room. Taehyung crawls over top of you and hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them away and adding them to the mess on the floor.

Your heart pounds in your stomach as sheer want courses through you. Taehyung’s body along yours feels divine - even the most mundane parts. Even his bare legs against your legs, even his stomach touching your stomach. Every part of him looks like sin, even his arms as they cage you in from above, even the little curve of his ass. 

“Please,” you whisper again, because you need him now. You’ve never needed anybody or anything this much in your life. He reaches between your legs, those happy grumbles still falling from his lips as he lightly scrapes his teeth along your jawline, but you make a discontented noise. He pulls back, looking at you quizzically, hand stilling in place.

“What’s wrong?” he breathes, eyes combing over you, trying to decide if he’d hurt you somehow.

“I don’t need that - I want you - please.” You can’t finish a thought, you can’t make sentences. You just want him, you want him as close as he can be, you want to feel him inside and out, you want to forget who and where you are and become only aware of the stretch and friction he gives you, only aware of his body beneath each desperately clinging fingertip.

He understands. He always does. When he enters you, slowly but unfalteringly, you groan - low and loud and broken. The noise drowns out the hiss he releases from between his teeth. 

“Baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out, hips flush with yours. You shift minutely, trying to take him just a little deeper, gasping at the sensation when you succeed. He stills, holding himself over you, and you meet his eyes. They swim with something you can’t name, roving over your face. 

This is what you wanted, what you were burning for. You reach up, brush his hair away from his eyes, slip your hand along his cheek. He closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it, just a little. Then he’s lowering himself, burying his face in the crook of your neck, and sliding out of you only to slam back in hard enough to make you cry out.

You lose yourself in feelings and sounds - his body solid under your searching hands, his stomach muscles rippling as he keeps a quick pace, his breaths coming out in stutters and stops, breathy little whines punctuating each exhale. Your legs shake as the tide of pleasure pulls tighter and tighter in the base of your belly, tingles surging down your legs and settling in your toes as you meet him stroke for stroke.

Then, abruptly, his quick pace disappears. He slows, each stroke purposeful, ending each thrust with a little extra push. His arms come tighter around your shoulders, his forehead drops to yours. He presses all of himself to you and you revel in it, drown in his heart racing against your own rib cage, sink beneath the feeling of each teeth-chattering thrust, cling desperately to his biceps as if they are the only thing tethering you to this earth. 

The sensations and feelings swim together, a vortex of happiness and pleasure both. You’re overwhelmed with it - the joy of having him again, at the way he’s cradling you between his arms so carefully, the surge in your chest that screams I love him I love him I love him and the fact that you no longer feel the need to hide that scream away. 

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung noses closer to your ear and whispers, “God, I love you.” The words are followed by a shuddering breath as he buries himself as far inside you as he can reach. “I have for - Y/N, I -”

“I know,” you whisper, reaching up to kiss him again. He rests his weight on one elbow and cups your face with the other, hips stilling. You break the kiss, smiling sheepishly. “Is it bad to say it for the first time while we’re fucking?”

“I don’t care,” he laughs on an exhale. Without warning, he scoops one arm under your waist, adjusting the angle and starting a bruising pace that makes you clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut. Your response to him comes out in shattered syllables, caught up in a web of moans and gasps. When you come unraveled moments later, his name leaves your mouth in a single, drawn-out breath, your eyes rolling back as your muscles all go taut. He fucks you through it, each breath he lets out just a little more desperate than the one before as his rhythm jumps and stumbles.

“Fuck, baby! I’m -” he warns you, and you hold him tighter, whisper praises and coaxes, urging him on. He comes with a shout, throwing his head back, eyes screwed shut, a deep flush working its way up his chest. 

He drops next to you, panting, and you stretch to kiss him again. He weaves his fingers through your hair, kissing you sweetly. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you since the beginning, Y/N,” he tells you, when you pull away, looking at him with stars in your eyes. “It’s different with you. It’s been different with you the whole time. I’ve been in love with you since before you were even available. I never doubted for a minute that we could make it.”

“Complete faith,” you murmur. “You had complete faith.”

“From day one,” he agrees, and kisses you again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Mrs. Kim says lightly, reaching for her glass of water. Across the dinner table, Taehyung shakes his head at his mother’s predictability. He knows exactly what’s coming. Honestly, he can’t believe she waited two weeks to broach the topic. “How is Y/N? Have you spoken to her much since the day she came to help you?”

Taehyung’s been in this position too many times - his mother keeping her eyes mostly on her plate, shooting him furtive little glances, her tone hopeful despite her deepest efforts to school it into mild interest, hoping this time her baby boy will give her news she’s wanted for him. His father eats silently, letting his wife pry. And Taehyung - usually - starts dancing around questions, answering without answering, diverting and redirecting conversation like it’s what he was born to do.

Ah, she works with me, of course we’ve talked. It’s right on this tip of his tongue. 

Normally, he wants to avoid the fifty questions. Normally, he doesn’t want to see any spark of hope on his mother’s face. Because he knows - he always knows it isn’t what she hopes it is.

But, this time. This time, it could be.

What would be the harm in being honest, this time? Taehyung knows he isn’t going anywhere - and neither are you, not again. Not after you both waded through rushing currents to get here. Not after you fought back against everything you ever learned about how to be loved and learned a new way, for him.

“We’ve talked,” Taehyung says, heart racing. This confession feels bigger, heavier, than telling you he loved you. Telling his family was somehow harder, way more frightening. “We’re… we’re kind of dating.”

“Kind of,” his father echoes with a scoff. “Say what you mean, Taehyung.”

Taehyung straightens in his chair. “We’re dating,” he clarifies, as asked. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Taehyung!” Mrs. Kim cries, clasping her hands together. “You’ve never -!”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung grumbles, feeling himself flushing. 

“How long has it been…” Mrs. Kim pauses, hunting for the word she wants. “Official?”

Taehyung sighs good-naturedly. “Since the day we brought you to the hospital together,” he admits. 

“Is it serious?” his father asks, and Taehyung almost drops his glass. His mother interrogates him about who he’s dating; his father acts indifferent and gets all the gossip later from his wife. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, shell-shocked straight into honesty. “It’s pretty serious. We dated… most of the summer. We spent some time apart in the fall, but… we worked it out.”

Mrs. Kim says nothing, which is frankly alarming. Taehyung peers at her closely, noticing some color on her face, a pinched, emotional look taking over her features.

“Ah, Mom,” he scolds, standing and picking up his empty plate. He heads towards the kitchen to rinse it, giving her a reassuring shoulder pat on his way by. He thinks it’s over, but when she hugs him goodbye on his way to his car at the end of the night, she holds him in place and whispers, “I’m so happy. She seems so wonderful for you.”

“She’s okay,” Taehyung says, half-teasing, and Mrs. Kim swats at his arm. 

“We’d love to have her for dinner sometime,” she says carefully. “When you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says. “When we’re ready.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

On the other side of the altar, Taehyung’s eyes crinkle shut as he grins, his smile taking up his whole face. You feel your own heart swell, as Nikki presses her lips to Seokjin’s and their friends and family cheer heartily. 

Later, on the dance floor, he holds you close as you sway together to a slow song, leading you in lazy circles.

Not many couples join you dancing; it’s late in the night, and everyone’s energy has started to flag. It gives you some privacy as you lean your weight against Taehyung, resting your head against his chest, listening to his heart. It’s one of your favorite things to do. 

And, as such, you notice something - his heart is beating fast. You lift your head again, peering at him carefully.

“You okay?” you ask gently. He meets your eyes, instantly looking caught, maybe a little guilty. He clutches your hand a little tighter and spins you in a new direction, as if he can dance away from the question. “Taehyung?” you prod.

He sighs, looks determinedly over your shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he admits finally. He notices your alarm and quickly adds, “Nothing bad!”

“O-kay,” you say slowly. The song you were dancing to ends, and Taehyung leads you to the edge of the dancefloor. “Want to get some air together?” you ask him. Despite his assurances, you still feel anxious. Taehyung doesn’t get like this - nervous. Not with you.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. His wavy hair bounces with the motion. 

Outside, a long, sloping lawn leads to a line of trees. You know the river runs beyond them, and you can see the bridge lit up in the distance. The air is chilly, summer not fully in bloom just yet. 

“What’s going on?” you ask. “Talk to me, Taehyung.”

He sighs, reaches for your hands. “I’ve been thinking…” he says finally, “and I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”

“You’ve got to just spit it out,” you beg him. “You’re scaring the crap out of me.”

He smiles ruefully, gives both of your hands a squeeze. He licks his lips nervously and tries again. “I’ve been thinking about… living together.”

You freeze, leaning back a little to look at him. 

He hurries to continue. “If you don’t want to join me at my place, we could do yours. Or we could look for a new place together. Or if you don’t feel ready, it’s okay, we don’t have to, we can wait -”

“Your place has my nook,” you say, cutting off his nervous babbling. He shuts his mouth with a snap, looking at you with widened eyes. 

“You - it - what?” he manages.

You say it again, calmly, though your heart beats against your sternum so hard it almost hurts. “My quiet-morning-time nook. It’s at your place. And you’ve got the balcony.”

“So…” He’s still looking at you, wide-eyed. “So, you want to? You’ll move in with me?”

You grin at him, suddenly so happy you want to hop around. “Yeah,” you tell him, still grinning. “Yeah, I want to.”

He kisses you hard, one hand coming to the base of your neck. You kiss him back happily, lips still trying to smile even as you give them other directions. 

“Taehyung!” you bellow, bending down to pick up the small pile of dirty clothes from your bedroom floor. “If your clothes can make it next to the hamper, then your clothes can make it into the hamper!”

“Don’t yell!” he calls back from the living room. “You’ll upset the baby!”

You enter the living room, playfully scowling, arms crossed.

“I’m not a baby,” Sierra grouses, not looking away from the tv screen. A white controller is in her hands, her fingers working the control deftly. Beside her, Taehyung’s hands do the same on his own controller. 

You sink down beside them, careful not to block the screen - they’re scary when they gang up on you. 

“Mom’s almost here,” you tell Sierra, after checking your messages on your phone. “Last round, okay?”

“Yeah,” she grunts. “I kicked his ass anyway.”

“Hey!” Taehyung objects loudly, as you add, “Don’t swear, Sierra.”

“You swear,” she points out. “And Taehyung swears.”

You narrow your eyes at him, accusing. Over Sierra’s head, he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Sometimes more than others,” he says saucily, and you whack him with a pillow. Sierra shrieks that you made her lose right as the round ends. 

After you escort Sierra downstairs to your mom’s waiting car, you join Taehyung on the balcony. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orange tint. It reminds you of the night you ended things, right here, right as the sun set. The memory still hurts, a little, but it’s made better by the knowledge that it led you and Taehyung to this: your life together, the ability to have lazy evenings and hurried mornings together, the people you love around you. Contentment. Stability. Him. 

“Nikki and Jin want us to come to the restaurant,” you tell Taehyung, eyes on your phone screen. “You up for it?”

He shrugs easily. “Why not? I’ll text Jimin.”

You sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder, and feel the peace of the moment. He turns and gives the top of your head a kiss as he waits for Jimin’s answer to come in. 

Sometimes you wish you could go back in time to your past self, tell her to shake free of Ben sooner, tell her to give Taehyung a fair chance, tell her not to walk away from him and the love he’s ready to give you. But mostly, you think as he reaches an arm over your shoulders, you want to tell her that it’ll all be fine in the end - she just has to hang in there. 

She just has to have faith.

[barrysmanbun]

Bandaids

A/n: More Ward Slander

Description: Ward doesn't approve of you. You just wanted to watch tv with your boyfriend.

Warnings: Rafe x Reader, angst, fluff, mentions of fighting, blood

~~

You had finally convinced Rafe to try watching your favorite tv show. The second he had grudgingly agreed you had squealed and done a little victory dance, thanking him as you did.

Now it is next Saturday, almost exactly 10 in the morning and Rafe should be arriving any moment so you guys can start your marathon.

You check your phone, even though you know you haven’t gotten any messages since ten minutes ago when you last checked your phone, and turn your ringer up all the way so you wouldn’t miss anything.

Suddenly the front door slams open, causing you to jump from your seat. You immediately reach for your phone, to call 911, but at that moment Rafe enters the room.

You relax, placing a hand over your chest to feel your wildly beating heart. “Jeez, babe, you scared me…” You trail off, eyes focusing on the blood dripping from a cut in his cheek and lip. Your eyes dart down to his hand, and your suspicions are confirmed. His knuckles are red, and even a couple are split. He got into a fight. Again.

“He kicked me out.” He spits, fury spreading through his eyes like a forest fire.

You frown, tossing your phone down on the couch and taking a step towards him. “What do you mean? Your dad? He kicked you out?”

“We got into a fight because I refuse to break up with you,” he explains, rolling his eyes, beginning to pace. “He said he wants me to stop seeing you're a pogue. Like that’s what fucking matters, not that you treat me right or make me happy or anything, no because you’re a fucking pogue and you live on the cut, and ‘what will our friends say, Rafe?’ and ‘image is important, Rafe, and she’s not good for our image. God, I am so fucking tired of worrying about our image, why does it fucking matter so much?!” He throws out his hand, hitting a standing lamp and sending it crashing to the floor.

He looks startled by the sound, and, as if it brought him out of his fit of anger, his shoulders slump and he lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “I love you,” he whispers, and you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Is it not enough that I love you? Can’t he just be happy for me this once?” You can hear his voice starting to get wet, and gently kiss the smooth skin just under his eyes, like your kisses can stop the tears brimming in the corner of his eyes.

“It is enough, Rafe-” he rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to say something but you stop him, “it’s enough for me.” You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I love you too.”

He leans forward, closing the space between you, and kissing you like his life depends on you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as you can get him.

Far too soon the kiss comes to an end and he presses his forward to you, not yet opening his eyes.

“You can come live with me.” You decide, reaching up to card your fingers through his unstyled hair. You smile at him, running your hands down his arms to take his hands in your and bring them up to his field of vision. “Are you okay, physically?”

He sighs instead of answering so you silently lead him to the bathroom. He doesn’t resist when you sit him on the closed toilet lid, or when you begin to clean his cuts.

“Warning, this might sting, okay?” He nods, eyes following your movements as you clean his cuts, watching you with heated eyes when you clean the cuts on his lip and cheek. You then throw the dirty alcohol wipes in the trash in silence.

“There we go, you’re all cleaned up. Now it’s time for the bandaids. Princess or Iron Man?” You reach for the boxes of bandaids above his head, only to be stopped by him pulling you down into his lap.

He wraps his arms around your waist in a vice grip so you can’t escape, waiting till you stop squirming to say, “Thank you for taking care of me, baby.” He cranes his neck to kiss your chin, then your nose, then each cheek, then all over your face until you’re giggling and unable to contain your smile.

“Okay, okay, cool your jets Romeo.” You tease, booping him on the nose. He wrinkles his nose, arms losing, and you take the opportunity to grab the bandaids. “Princesses or Iron Man?”

He snorts, eyeing the boxes distastefully. “I’m an adult, I’m not wearing themed bandaids.”

“Well, they’re the only ones I have so it’s either these or nothing.”

“Then I’m all set on a bandaid-”

“You’re getting a bandaid.”

“I don’t need a bandaid, they aren’t even that big of cuts-”

“You. Are. Getting. A. Bandaid. Whether. You. Want. One. Or. Not.” You accentuate each word with a poke to his chest, narrowing your eyes in challenge, as you do.

“No, actually, I’m not.” And with that, he attempts to stand up, but you grab his shoulder, pushing him back down.

“Did you just push me?” He asks, eyes and mouth wide, obviously not expecting that out of you. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”

10 minutes later, after Rafe chased you around the apartment trying to tickle you, and then you chased him back trying to put a bandaid on, you both are comfortably cuddling on the couch.

You run a finger over Rafe’s Snow White bandaid, then down to his jawline, lightly tracing the sharp line.

“Admit that I won.” You demand, not bothering to hide your smirk.

He tilts his head out of the range of your finger, pouting. “Watch your damn tv show, woman.”

~~

Tags:

@pogueslandia

[niqhtlord01]

Halo Kart!  Now with Red vs Blue audio lines! Sarge: We're in first place! Griff: We're in second idiot! Sarge: *Cocks shotgun* Not for long bucko! -------------- Grif: Why the hell are we going five miles an hour!? Simmons: Slow and steady wins the race. Grif: That is the exact opposite of what you should be doing! Grif: Do you know nothing of how racing works!?!? ------------------------ Doc: You know we would be winning if you didn’t keep crashing into people.   O’Malley: How else am I to feel their bones being crush beneath these wheels? O’Malley: Muahahahahaahahahah!  Doc: I’m going to sign us up for some more therapy sessions when we finish.  O’Malley: Ask for Brenda, I like the cookies she gives us afterwards.  -------------------------

Grif: Step on it Lopez! They’re right behind us! Lopez: *in Spanish* Don’t worry, I was a illegal part runner for the robot cartel between seasons.  Lopez: *In Spanish* Replacing bodies is not cheap. Grif: Damnit Lopez, now is not the time to want to pickup some tacos! Lopez: *Angrily flips the car*  ----------------------------- Caboose: Ah Sheila, I think we should be going faster. Sheila: *Main cannon fires at nearby racer*  Caboose: Also not exploding the other racers.  Sheila: Oh Caboose.  Sheila; If there are no other racers, then that means we win.  Caboose: You know I never thought about it like that.  Sheila: *Fires again*  Grif: *In distance* My leg! ------------------------ Church: Tucker I swear to god, if you hit another rock in the road I will come up there and break your legs! Tucker: It’s not my fault! Tucker: Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put a race track next to an active volcano?  Tucker: There’s fucking rocks and lava everywhere! Church: Wait, did you say la- *Pair hit another rock and are thrown into river of lava* -------------------------------- Carolina: Reminds me of the first mission we went on together.  Tex: I won that one as well.  Carolina: You didn’t win!  Carolina: You just came in at the end and stole the- Tex: *Passes Carolina at last second and wins race*  Carolina: Son of a bitch! ---------------------------- Felix: Learn to drive old man! Wyoming: I’m British!  Wyoming: We always drive on the left side of the road! Felix: Yeah, and right into oncoming traffic!  --------------------------- Caboose: My bug man.  Locus: Its Locus.  Caboose: Yeah, is there a reason why we are always in last place until the end? Locus: I love the thrill of the challenge to reach the front of the pack at the very end.  Caboose: Oh.  Caboose: *Whispers* It’s not because you don’t know how to drive, is it?” Locus: *silence*  Caboose: It’s okay, I don’t know how to either.  Locus: Tell anyone and I’ll throw you off a cliff. ---------------------------- Doyle: Huzzah!  Doyle: What a thrill it is to be driving for a change instead of driven!  Dr. Grey: *Clutching on for dear life* Speak for yourself! -------------------------- Simmons: Santa do something; we’re losing!  Santa: Activating tower of procreation.  Simmons: Not that! Simmons: Not that!!!! Simmons: NOT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! -------------------------- Grif: Nothing smells as good as victory. Tucker: Are you shitting me?  Tucker: We came in second to last place. Grif: But we still beat sarge, and that’s always a win in my book. ------------------------ Meta: *Grunts*  Washington: What’d you say?  Omega: He said it would be easier if we just ran the racers off the road.  Washington: How the hell did you get all of that out of a single grunt?! ----------------------- Simmons: Anyone seen Donut?  Simmons: I haven’t seen him since the second lap.  Sarge: He ran off the map and is being chased by an angry cloud god.  Simmons: How can you tell?  Sarge: If you listen closely you can still hear his cries of despair.  *In the distance* Donut: *High pitch screaming* 

[raggaraddy]

Idk of I/someone else has already asked this but how would the yanderes react to having a mute s/o

Mute

A/N: Hi Hi. Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it! 💜💜💜

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, abuse, unhealthy relationships, blood drinking, descriptions of medical care.

Line: Mini-Rap Line (Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin)

Alpha! Namjoon

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Namjoon asks, trying to mask the genuine irritation in his voice.

It's been 8 days and you haven't said a word to him. Now, if you weren't talking at all that would be one thing, but you were specifically not talking to him, and would talk to other people with no problem. Trying to make it as pointedly obvious as possible that you were avoiding him and him alone.

The blatant disrespect of this was driving him mad. But he had never set a rule that directly stated that you have to talk to him or reply to him, and he knew that you would only fight it further if he instituted the edict now.

For you though, you were having the time of your life making him suffer. It was rare for you to have so much control between the two of you, and you were abusing it to the fullest. Especially given the reason this all started.

A week ago you were whining because he wouldn't let you go to the town fair without him. An unreasonable decision he made. Because as you tried to point out, you were going to be surrounded by the pack anyhow, and the excuse he gave for not going was a very unnecessary border run that anyone else could do in his place. While he wants to deny it, you know the real cause for his refusal though. It's because you sounded too excited about seeing your new friend at the fate and he was jealous. Even though she was another girl, for whom you had no romantic feelings, he was still jealous. And petty. You could see it in the way he mentioned her name or his face when you spoke about her.

But even with all that, it was his injustice that really made you snap. The exact words he said to you as you tried to reason your point, were; If you're going pout I don't want to hear another word from you. Basically, he told you to shut up just because he couldn't come up with any valid rebuttals and he didn't want to lose. So fine, if he wanted to be a dick, you were going to simply take his own instruction and hyperbolize it.

And his frustration was worth every moment of silence.

While he was hoping not to further blow this out of proportion, Namjoon was trying to break your silence by being strict towards all your other undesirable behaviour. Disciplining you for each and every rule you broke. Hoping to wear you down, or at the very least provoke you into another argument so that he could claim victory.

He was giving you time outs, taking away your electronics, making you hold quarters to the wall, refusing you junk food and sweets, making you stay by his side the entire day and so on. Fully running through all of his most infuriating and childish punishments. But no matter what he did, you remained defiant. And he was at the end of his rope.

Sitting in the kitchen, you were talking with the Gamma and two other wolves during a patrol break. As Namjoon was putting lunch together, you were happily observing his clenched jaw. However, the aggravation their Alpha was exuding was putting the wolves on edge and they were trying to include him in any way they could. Asking his opinion on topics as trivial as shoes, in the hopes to offset the irreverence you were showing.

When they asked him which of two brands he prefered, you interrupted, sick of their transparent attempts.

"No one cares what he has to say." You snip turning your back to him. For the first time in days, you were referring to him, and all the attitude you had stored up was pouring out in those words. You didn't take a second to think about what you were really saying though.

With an almighty crash, Namjoon smacks his hand into the benchtop, catching the side of the plate causing it to shatter. All three wolves and you jump. Quickly the words replay in your head as you see their wide-eyed gawking. Then the realization hits, you were safe being underspokenly disrespectful, but being outrightly so... he had rules set about that, and now you'd just given him the right to punish you in the way he had been itching to.

Grabbing your arm before you can protest he drags you upstairs to your shared bedroom. With weak shoves and refusals, you stay determined not to utter a single word. But as Namjoon pulls onto the bed, dragging you over his lap, as he lifts up your dress and tears down your underwear, you recognise that it's not time to play anymore.

Ignoring your shouts, your foul language, and eventually your cries for him to stop, he holds you down and smacks your ass raw. After about 20 minutes and once he's reduced you to tears, he finally lets up.

"Apologize," he demands. Still crying, you're too out of breath to reply at once, and that pause costs you. His hand comes down on your bruised ass again making you scream. Your cries turning into whimpered hiccuped apologies as you cling to the tear-soaked duvet.

Satisfied with your change in attitude, Namjoon at last stops. Not letting you run away like you want though, instead he has you straddle his lap, his legs carefully spread so your bruised butt doesn't have to sit on anything.

"Do you understand why I did that Y/n?" He asks softly pulling you into his chest. His hand running over your back.

You know why he did it, but you're too bitter to answer him and can only muster a grunt.

"Still not speaking to me, huh?" He smiles knowing he has already won whether you wanted to admit it or not, "Because if you're going to continue being disrespectful, I don't care if your ass is still glowing, I will bring you back up here."

You can only grunt again. Hating him, while you nevertheless cuddle in closer not wanting him to stop comforting you. He chuckles feeling your energy. Fiddling with your clothes and hair to realign and neaten them.

"Beautiful," he purrs in your ear, "If it really means that much to you, I will have someone cover me this Friday so I can take you to the fair." He consigns, kissing your forehead. You finally look up to him, head tilted and mouth slightly open. "Do you want that?"

Looking down and away, you're pouting a little but you push the word out. "Yes,"

"Okay, I will. But you have to be on your best behaviour from now until then." Namjoon winks.

You lost, but you still got what you wanted in the end. So maybe you can chalk this up to a draw. And at the very least you've found a way to get what you want in the future. So maybe that can be considered a win.

Assassin! Yoongi

Because of your disrespectful outburst, Yoongi had told you that you were not allowed to speak until he says. So far you were 4 weeks into your 5 week deadline.

Initially, it was an unyielding torment to have to be silent. A few times you had slipped up and spoken. Each and every time, Yoongi was quick to respond. He would lock you downstairs for as many days as words you spoke. Luckily, the most you said at one time was 5 words. And he still fed you while you were down there. So while it was horrible, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

Steadily though, you found it became easier. While you weren't allowed to speak, you still needed to be able to communicate with Yoongi, so he allowed you to nod and shake your head, and smile. It was restrictive, but strangely enough, you found it becoming comfortable. Because you couldn't speak Yoongi expected less from you. You didn't have to search for words when he spoke to you in an attempt to make him happy and overall, it made your interactions less stressful.

With you not speaking, he was speaking less also. So for the past few days, you have been enjoying a wordless dialogue that you and Yoongi were having. And at this point, you were feeling more relaxed and not missing talking at all.

Although waking up this morning you came downstairs to a horrible sight, that made you wish you could scream.

Yoongi was collapsed on the floor. Stretched out on the kitchen tiles in a puddle of his own blood. Covered in bruises and cuts. His torn up T-shirt soaked in blood.

3 nights ago he had left for a job. With the ease between the two of you, Yoongi didn't lock you up when he left, although he didn't downrightly state that as the reason. He must have come home sometime last night, but clearly, you didn't hear him.

Rushing to his side, you're looking down his unconscious battered form with no idea what to do. This is nothing you know how to deal with.

With how long you have been without speaking it feels wrong, unnatural even when you think about doing it now. And you can't bring yourself to release a single word. So you do what you can to try and get his attention, and to wake him up. You shove him, clap over his head. Lastly and desperately smacking his face a few times, sighing in relief as it pulls him back to consciousness.

Groaning, his eyes look to be spinning from light-headedness. Stiffly he tries to get himself upright against the wall. Seeing his intent you help him. Pulling him, you slip a little in the puddle of blood. Your hands and feet are already covered in it. Your limbs trembling as you hold your hands away from your body. Looking down at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Medic kit," he breathes, each puff heavy and wheezed.

You nod, spreading a trail of blood through the house to his bedroom. Collecting the duffle bag in his closet that is filled with a surgeries worth of supplies and running back downstairs, you drop the bag at his side, unzipping it for him.

While you were gone he's torn his ripped shirt off. Among the cuts and scars that already litter his pale chest, he has a deep long cut that runs diagonally down his torso. It looks like basic first aid was already applied, blood-drenched gauze stuck on the worst and deepest parts of it.

"I'm gonna talk you through this," he pants, with a struggled smirk, "Maybe wash your hands first, cause if I die of infection, I'll be pissed." His playful banter feels so out of place, not just for the scene but for him. Although, you're not going to question how he wants to deal with a life-threatening injury, and the ridiculousness of you being the one that needs to help him. If he wants to joke to cope, fine.

Nodding and wide-eyed through the whole run-down, it takes everything you have, but you stay calm and stop yourself from crying.

Thankfully time has seemed to stop the bleeding. As you remove the bandages the lacerations have somewhat clotted. Going step by step, you follow Yoongi's every word. First, you clean the area with a bucket of water and a cloth. Then apply an antibiotic ointment, that smells really gross. Washing your hands once again, you lower beside him, and realize you've only just gotten to the worst of it.

While the bleeding has stopped the cuts above his belly button and his hip are deep enough, the fat is exposed.

"You gonna be able to do this?" Yoongi asks as you hold the needle and thread with a tremble in your hands that is painfully obvious.

You nod, taking a deep breath. But even after 3 more of them, your exhales are still coming out shaky. You are in desperate need to calm down and your sure he can't get mad at you in this circumstance, so you're going to try what you've seen on T.V. Standing, you rummage through the cupboards and pull down a bottle of whisky from the top shelf. Watching Yoongi closely as you open the cork, giving him the chance to stop you. But he doesn't so you gulp down a few mouthfuls, shivering as the taste flows down your chest.

You're not sure if it helped your hands, but you feel a little better. So that's enough.

Returning to his side, slowly Yoongi talks you through suturing the openings. A traumatic experience you hope to never repeat. The sensation of the needing pushing through the layers of skin will surely never leave your head though.

During the stitching, you were surprised that Yoongi didn't flinch or react in any way. You're unsure if it was because the area was numb or because he was restraining himself to not freak you out. But in any case, you were grateful.

After everything and nearly 2 hours, you finally move onto bandaging.

Both of you are now able to slump back, thoroughly exhausted. For the longest time after the final step, neither of you move. You're still horrified, leaning against the wall looking over the armature medical aid you've given Yoongi's chest. Almost feeling a sense of pride through the unrelenting urge to vomit.

"You know," Yoongi grunts, shuffling back, lifting only his head to rest against the same wall. "If you wanna finish early and talk now, I think you've earned it." He chortles dryly, with a straight line smile.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist, you laugh uncomfortably. Honestly, after this, you'll be happy to have the next week without speaking.

Vampire! Hoseok

You couldn't take much more of this.

It was endless and he was ruthless.

Night after night Hoseok was coming to you. Drinking from you, hurting you in so many ways, and leaving you. If you were lucky, he'd remember to feed you his blood before he left. If not, he'd let you remain broken, making you suffer through the day.

With everything that you had to endure, you were tired of being tired. Exhausted of being exhausted. Scared and sad all the time, and hating a life from which you had no means of escape. But even with all of this, you were still holding out hope that there had to be some way to lessen your suffering. You had to believe that if you wanted to keep your sanity. You just had to figure out what he wanted.

So far you had seen no depth to him. All you had learnt was that he enjoyed your misery too much. It was like a game to him. Every sound you made, every cry, every time you begged or screamed at him, or fought him, it would only encourage him. He was trying to coax a reaction, to draw out your fear. And with no other form of control, you wanted to see what would happen if you took that away from him.

You theorized that if you did he would get more vicious, but then he would get bored. Best case scenario; he would let you go. Worst case; he would kill you. And somewhere in the middle; he would keep you only for your blood. But any of these were better than the hell you were living in now.

So partly with a plan in mind, and partly out of sheer exhausted terror, you stopped speaking. It was going to be impossible to stop all sounds. There was no way you could stop yourself from screaming or crying or reacting, but you could control the words that came out of your mouth.

And for over 2 weeks now, you haven't uttered a single word.

With the sun high in the sky and being ready to sleep, you come back to your room, jolting as you open the door. Seeing Hoseok sitting on the bed.

In an unnatural flash, he's behind you, goosebumps prickling on the back of your neck. Grabbing a chunk of your hair he jerks and twists you, moving you to face him. His other hand comes up pressing his fingers into your cheeks harshly enough to make your mouth open. Keeping your jaw spread, he moves and tugs your head inspecting inside at all angles.

"Hmm, I was just checking if I cut your tongue out and forgot. But it's there." he uses his hold on your face to throw you back. Crashing you to the floor. "So you're choosing not to speak to me." He chuckles eerily.

As soon as you hit the floor, you scramble to your feet. Struggling to do so with an injured leg, but knowing it's safer to not let yourself remain on the ground or he'll most likely stomp on you.

You croak quickly silence yourself, forcing yourself to not speak and maintain your desperate strategy. Bracing yourself instead like you're facing a wild animal.

He marches forward, grabbing the arm you hold out. You'd rather he break your limbs than your organs. But he uses the arm to yank you forward, his right fist hooking broadly, your head snapping to the side, blood flying from your mouth. "Still not going to speak baby?" He yanks you back, hitting you in the exact same way. And a third time, your mouth gushing blood inside and out. "Are you trying to hurt my feelings?" He laughs switching his target, this time aiming at your torso. Each time dragging you back into place so he can properly hit you again.

Smacking the back of his hand into your head, he lets your fly into the floor this time. Clicking his tongue as he squats, hovering over you. "Baby, it's not as fun when you're not begging me to stop," he says icily. "Maybe I'm not hurting you enough."

Finally, he's giving you the assurance that you were right. Which means just like you thought, he's threatening to become more vicious. So you can endure that, or you can try something extra and see what happens when you outrightly give him everything he already takes.

Gently and so very carefully you lift your arm to his chest, gradually and painfully getting yourself onto your knees. Watching you do so with such difficulty and while you're trying to maintain eye contact with him, Hoseok is too amused to interrupt you.

With the taste of blood flowing from your mouth, you lean in nervously, expecting at any moment to have your body broken in two. Your heart thumps enough to hurt as you lightly kiss him. Leaving a stamp of your blood on his lips. Too scared to even blink as you monitor him. With a curious expression in his eye, he licks lips clean, a trace of a smile raising the corners of his mouth.

Not receiving a negative reaction you continue. Hoisting yourself up again you begin to kiss him slowly, your tongue flicking his lips encouraging him to open his mouth. Deepening the kiss the moment he does. Kissing your blood between the two of you.

Your hands are shaking, your legs are trembling, and you feel sick with fear, but he seems to be stable. And it seems to be working. As tenderly as you kiss him, he is kissing you back the same.

After several minutes and as the pain of holding yourself up gets to be too much, you lower down, terrified that any movement could evoke a change in his response. Keeping your eyes fixed on him, you tie your hair back into a messy bun.

The smirk on Hoseok's face is fully grown as he watches you with complete intrigue. You've never been the one to initiate anything and he is beguiled by your actions.

Coming back to the same height you don't return to kissing him, instead you press your chest to his, clinging one hand into his shirt to keep you balanced, and the other wrapping around his neck to bring his mouth down to your shoulder. It's a wordless invitation that he accepts eagerly, sinking his fangs into the slope of your neck. Too sore and tired to cry out, you can only pant through the bite.

As he drinks, your hands drop and his tighten around you to keep you up. But the second he's done, he releases you and lets you fall to the carpet.

Your eyes open as you hear the bedroom door. However, you see Hoseok stall. Pursing his lips while looking over his shoulder at you. To your surprise, he turns back and in a delicate manner you did not think possible from him, he lifts you up, carrying you to your bed.

Tilting your head up, he presses his lips to yours and your first thought is one of dread. Assuming that he's not finished and he only came back to have sex with you, thinking how much it's going to hurt in your condition.

Pushing his tongue into your mouth you can feel right away that the blood pouring into your mouth is not yours but his. His tongue lapping yours, feeding you his blood the same way you did to him. Healing you in a way he never has before.

Steadily you can feel all your cuts and breaks startling to heal. Clarity returning to your sight and your breath again flowing easily. As your energy returns you begin to reciprocate the kiss. Both out of a feeling of success and clinging on to the taste of his blood, which has come to trigger a feeling of relief within you. Having attached the flavour with the sensation of having your pain taken away.

Abruptly, Hoseok pulls away, getting up without another word or look. Leaving you alone, laying in shock.

It was a reaction unlike any you had expected, but for the very first time, he was damn near humane. So you would have to try that again and see if lightning strikes twice.

Playboy! Jimin

"Ta-da" Jimin bursts into the bedroom with a small black paper bag in his hand and a massive smile on his face. He jumps on the corner of the bed snatching the remote from you and turning the tv off with a click over his shoulder. "Look, Angel." He hands it over, putting the gift in your lap.

Looking down at it, you sigh internally, leaning back you choose to pointedly ignore it. Resting your head against the headboard, you close your eyes.

Lifting the bag by the handles Jimin swings it between his fingers over your head trying to place it in your eye line. "Look, your favourite." He shakes the brand in your face, the joy in his eyes gently fading into guilt.

For 5 days now, you had been stuck in bed. During an argument about your job, Jimin was once again trying to convince you to quit. His points were the same as always. That you didn't need a job because he could pay for you. That you lived with him, and he would buy you heaven and earth. He meant it in a sweet romantic way, but you couldn't help but take it in a 1910 housewife kind of way. You knew that mostly the reason he wanted you out of work was that he was very greedy with you and hated you being around other people. He didn't like that you weren't there to keep him company and entertain him at all times.

Honestly, those 8 hours out of the house, even though you were down to 3 days a week, were so revitalizing. Jimin could be a lot of work. And he was getting more and more controlling about who you saw and when you could see them. Apart from work, it had been 3 months since he last let you go out or see any of your friends by yourself. And you were fighting to hold onto this last little bit of freedom.

However, you will admit in the attempt at making your point solid, you said something incredibly stupid. He said he paid for everything, and you said you needed your own money in case you ever wanted to leave him. And he took that about as well as you'd expect.

"Come on, this isn't fair." Jimin pouts. "I said I'm sorry."

What really wasn't fair was that he hit you, kicked you, and screamed at you. Demanding you apologize and promise to never leave him. But you were coughing up blood, too dazed to even comprehend his words at the time. And when you didn't answer he growled you can't leave if you can't walk as he threw you down the stairs.

It's only by a miracle that you weren't injured as permanently as he intended, but still, he had done plenty of harm. Your ribs and stomach were black and purple. Your face was cut up with your lips split and your jaw swollen. Your arm and hip were also deeply bruised and sore. But with all of this, you truly have no idea the full extent of the damage because Jimin refuses to let you go to the hospital.

So, due to your injuries and your own principles, you hadn't spoken to Jimin since you woke up.

The first day he was remorseful and apologetic. He pleaded and begged for you to forgive him. He tried to hold you and love you and take care of you, but despite the pain and the fact that you really couldn't take care of yourself, you refused him at every turn. On the second day, he was already becoming annoyed that you wouldn't let him near you and kept ignoring him, and on the third day, he yelled at you for being difficult, trying to put the blame for his reaction on you. Yesterday, when he saw that gaslighting you wasn't getting him what he wanted, he went back to being sweet and doting, having had better luck with guilting you in the past.

This means today when his presents don't earn him your forgiveness, he should be right on track to getting pissy again.

He pulls a small box out of the bag, flicking it open. "Ta-da," he smiles. Only to be met once more with your active avoidance. "Look," he whines holding the ring box up but your eyes are closed. "Y/n look!" He barks.

You're not going to, though. He always does this. Buys you something to resolve his guilt. And if for even a moment you express gratitude or pleasure in it, he takes it as complete forgiveness. Then when you haven't actually absolved him, he accuses you of being difficult or a spoiled bitch. Even ignoring him you know he's going to make a problem of that too, but at least this way he will have to keep suffering in his shame.

During the last few days, you've been thinking hard about why you're with Jimin. For a moment, you even thought about packing your things in the middle of the night and leaving him. Moving back in with your old housemate, returning to full-time work and picking up your life where you left it. But thinking that, even with everything bad Jimin can do, it hurt your heart.

He's yours. And out of all of the people in the world, you're his.

Really there weren't too many times that he freaked. And he only did it because he loved you too much, or because you said something cruel like you did this time. No, most of the time he was so sweet. He listened to you, and he really cared about everything you had to say. Even the smallest problems he wanted to help with. He was normally so kind and gentle and he treated you like a princess.

No matter how hard you looked you would never find anyone who treated you like Jimin did.

So even when he lost his temper, you knew you just needed to hold out, because soon everything would return to regular.

This time he just overdid it. And that's why you were punishing him by not speaking to him. Because you knew it was important to stand up for yourself.

There's a flurry of sudden movement and a hefty bang across the room. Your eyes jumping open, Jimin has thrown the ring and the box into the wall. His frustration exploding in a rampage as he attacks your makeup table. Sweeping everything off it, stomping on anything fragile that hits the floor. Throwing the table over he hurls it into the wall, finishing it off by booting his shoe into the mirror over and over until it cracks.

Turning back to you, his hands curled up by his side, it's unnervingly apparent that he is fighting to restrain himself. Even now, as you lay in bed broken, in his rage he is still considering hitting you again.

But you're pretty sure he won't.

Jimin has just never been good at dealing with consequences and he is worse at dealing with the guilt that comes because of his actions. Without you pardoning him, he's going mental. Which is good, because that means he's learning.

"Whatever," he yells, "just fucking forget it." Barging out of the room he slams the door ferociously behind him.

He may be acting harsh, but you know that more than likely he will be going out to replace everything he just damaged. And he'll buy you something even better than a ring to say he's sorry.

And as long as he doesn't hit you again, you'll know that he really is sorry and in a couple more days when your mouth is healed, you will be able to forgive him. Then the two of you can move on from this and it will be as perfect as it can be.

[spnsisterimagines]

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday. 

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch. 

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously. 

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim. 

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him. 

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed. 

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!" 

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first. 

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked. 

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own. 

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!" 

He selected Toad. 

"Why him, Jack?" she asked. 

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap. 

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him. 

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads. 

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map. 

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang. 

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now. 

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened. 

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered. 

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled. 

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself. 

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet. 

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front. 

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred. 

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably. 

"We lost..." Sam mumbled. 

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller. 

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed. 

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping. 

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

[softspideys]

The Perfect Date

summary: tom makes it his mission to take you on the perfect first date. the only problem is, you have no idea. 

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a valentine’s day fic but then I forgot about it. oops. plz enjoy anyway

Tom had just started the last lap of Wario’s Gold Mine when he heard Zendaya ask, “Got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

He tried not to pay attention to your answer, focusing on keeping his lead, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered over to where you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently circling your finger around the rim of your wine glass.

You straightened up at her question, scoffing. “Are you kidding? When’s the last time you saw me date anybody, Z?”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at you accusingly. “Don’t even start with me. I set you up with people all the time, it’s not my fault you’re so picky.”

“It’s called having standards,” you fired back. “Sorry I’m not interested in pretentious jerks who insist on mansplaining Tarantino films to me over their venti-soy-no-foam latte with a triple shot of espresso.”

Zendaya cackled, and though he couldn’t see your face, Tom could tell you were smiling too; your words had no real bite to them.

“Seriously though,” you continued with a sigh. “I think I might just give up dating for a while. Lately it feels like my only options are either crappy blind dates or going through a sleazy hookup app for some mediocre sex. I can’t remember the last time I got properly asked out and went on, like, a nice date.”

As soon as you said that, the gears started turning in Tom’s head. And then he got an idea so good he almost forgot about the race entirely, until Harrison hit him with a red shell and passed him, sailing over the finish line in first place.

“Yes!” Harrison cheered, causing you and Zendaya to look over, startled. “Finally, I won!”

“Wow,” Zendaya said, amused. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever lost in Mario Kart, Holland.”

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” you asked teasingly as Harrison got up and did a victory dance.

Tom normally hated losing, but he was too preoccupied at the moment to care. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just . . . a little rusty, I guess.”

You raised your eyebrows, but then Zendaya challenged Harrison to a rematch, and the two of them immediately started a new grand prix while you called dibs on the winner. With the distraction in place, Tom had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

The four of you had been friends for years, but he’d always harbored something of a crush on you. He’d never tried to push the boundaries or pursue you because he liked your relationship as it was already, and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But this would be different. This was harmless. He was simply going to show you how you deserved to be treated, give you a good date to remember among the bad ones.

Nothing else. Right?

* * *

You eyed the huge bouquet of roses your coworker had on her desk and tried not to feel too envious. She’d made a big show of bringing them in this morning and inviting everyone who walked by to smell them, going on and on about how her girlfriend had surprised her for Valentine’s Day yesterday.

So what, you thought to yourself. I can get myself flowers whenever I want; I don’t need a holiday to have an excuse to do it. It really didn’t make you feel better though.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, making you jump a mile. You looked up. Tom was peering over the wall of your cubicle, which was . . . unexpected. He hardly ever visited you at work.

“Oh, hi,” you said. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“Yeah, you were totally zoned out,” Tom said. “Good thing I brought caffeine.” He placed a to-go cup from your favorite coffee shop on your desk. You saw the order written on the side; he’d gotten it exactly right.

“Wow,” you said, surprised but grateful. “Thanks.” You’d already had coffee this morning, but clearly it was shaping up to be a two-cup type of day. You took a careful sip and felt better already.

“No problem.” Tom followed your line of vision to your coworker’s desk. “Pretty flowers.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a little quietly. You cleared your throat. “So, what’s up? Did we have plans today or something?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “but that’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He seemed nervous, which in turn made you nervous.

“Okay,” you said, giving him your full attention.  

“So . . . are you doing anything this Friday night?”

It was only Monday. You thought for a second before shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to have dinner? With me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. That was it? “Oh. Sure.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes widen the slightest bit. “Really? I mean, great. Cool.” He scratched his nose. “So, Friday at six o’clock, then? I’ll text you the name of the place?”

“Sounds good,” you said. He seemed excited, though you couldn’t figure out why. You got dinner with him, Harrison, and Zendaya at least once a week.

“Alrighty,” Tom said, swinging his arms a little and nodding. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. See you Friday.”

“See you,” you said. Did he really come all the way to your office to ask you this in person instead of just texting you like he normally would? Maybe he’d been nearby or something. You watched him leave, mostly confused but also kind of endeared.

“Was that your boyfriend?” your coworker asked, subtly adjusting her flowers again.

You quickly shook your head, turning back to your computer and taking another sip of your coffee. “Oh, no. Just a friend.”

As Tom left your office, he allowed himself to do a small fist-pump. Getting you to agree was the hardest part. Now came the slightly-easier-but-still-hard part: making sure he gave you the best first date ever.

* * *

Something strange was going on with Tom. You first realized it when you brought up the dinner on Friday to Zendaya and she had no clue what you were talking about.

“Tom didn’t invite you?”

“Nope.” She popped the “p.”

“Huh.” You chewed your lip. “That’s . . . weird. Maybe he figured I’d just tell you about it. And I guess you don’t really need an invitation anyway . . . do you think he invited Harrison?”

“I don’t know.” You were on the phone, so you couldn’t see Zendaya’s face, but it kind of sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Maybe he wants it to be just the two of you.”

“Maybe.” It was rare, but it wasn’t like you never spent time with just Tom or Harrison.  You couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with either of them one-on-one, though. This seemed . . . different. “But I’m sure he won’t mind if you guys show up,” you said with a shrug.

Now Zendaya did laugh. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I think I’m supposed to babysit my niece and nephew anyway. You guys have fun.”

Then there was Tom himself. You hadn’t seen him in person since Monday, but he’d been texting you random questions all week:

Do you prefer a casual or an elegant ambiance?

How many candles on a table is too many? Or do you think overhead lamps are better?

Oyster bars . . . yes/no?

You answered all of them with increasing bemusement, but any time you asked why he would mysteriously change the subject. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something you were missing here.

Finally, he sent you the name of the restaurant on Friday morning: Soul & Persona.

You’d never heard of it, so you decided to look it up. One glance at their website told you this place wasn’t like the casual restaurant-and-bars you and your friends usually frequented. This was fancy. Clicking over to the menu, you inhaled sharply at the prices written next to the items. Luckily, today was payday.

You arrived at the restaurant shortly before six. Another person was already standing outside, and as you got closer you realized it was Tom. Two things about that were already weird: one, he was normally notoriously late to everything; and two, he was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand that were so big they nearly obstructed his face.

He didn’t notice you approaching, busy frowning at something on his phone. “Hey,” you said at last, making him jump.  

“Oh! Hey!” He cleared his throat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I mean—good evening.” He did a strange little bow before thrusting the flowers at you. “These are for you.”

“Wow,” you said, taking them carefully. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look really nice.”

You were glad you researched the restaurant in advance, because the jeans and t-shirt combo you’d originally planned on wearing would definitely not have been appropriate here.

“So do you,” you said. He did: he was wearing slacks and a nice dress shirt under a jacket, his hair neatly combed.

“Thanks. Should we go in?” he asked. You nodded, and he hurried to open the door, ushering you inside. It was crowded, which made you a little worried. How long would the wait time be?

But Tom went right up to the hostess stand. “Hi,” he said, “we have a reservation for two at six; the name is Tom?”

She looked at her book and nodded. “You can follow me right this way.” She led you to a quiet corner of the restaurant and seated you at a table by the window. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Here,” Tom said, pulling your chair out before you could sit down. Again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“This place is crazy nice,” you said, looking around as the hostess placed a wine list on the table.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, a little distractedly. “Um. So. Do you prefer to work in a team or alone?”

You blinked. “What? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his collar like he was nervous. “I—I dunno. Just making conversation.”

“Oo-kay,” you said with a laugh. “Well, I haven’t seen you since you blessed my office with your presence on Monday. How was your week? Didn’t you have to give a presentation yesterday?”

“Yes, and one of the board members literally fell asleep during it,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose.

He seemed to loosen up after that, and the conversation flowed naturally from then on as you talked about your plans for the weekend, your friends, your families, and any other random thoughts that occurred to you.

For dinner you tried a pasta dish while Tom got steak, and you each had the soup of the day for an appetizer. Your knowledge of wine was limited to whatever was cheapest when you went to the liquor store, but Tom had apparently become an expert overnight: he asked the waiter all kinds of questions about their reds vs. their whites before finally ordering a bottle for the two of you to share.

All in all, it was an enjoyable dinner. You always had fun with Tom, of course, but you rarely got to spend time with just him. And though you normally stayed away from expensive places like this one, you had to admit the food was delicious and the ambiance made you feel very sophisticated.

“Can I get either of you some coffee or dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared your plates. You’d never been one to say no to that, but Tom jumped in before you could open your mouth.

“No thank you,” he said quickly. “Just the check please.” Then he looked at you. “I thought maybe we could walk to that bookstore you like? The one with the bakery in it? We could—we could get dessert there and browse.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” He sounded relieved.

The waiter brought out the bill and Tom grabbed it as soon as he set it on the table. “What are you doing?” you protested. There was normally an agreement among your friends that everyone paid for their own meals when you went out to dinner.

“I’m paying,” he insisted, waving you off as you fruitlessly tried to put your own debit card down.

“At least let me Venmo you for my half.”

“Nope.”

“Tom!”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He wouldn’t even let you see how much the meal cost.  

You could tell he wasn’t going to budge for whatever reason, so you had no choice but to relent. “If you’re sure,” you said, watching him smugly sign the receipt. You made sure to grab your flowers before you got up and followed him out of the restaurant.

The bookstore you liked was a few blocks away, but you didn’t mind the walk. The air was warm but balmy, refreshing on your face. “That was amazing,” Tom said.

“It was,” you agreed. “I’m convinced they put actual crack in that pasta sauce. It was otherworldly.”

He laughed before he asked, a little hesitantly, “So are you . . . having a nice time?”

You looked over at him questioningly. “Of course I am. But I always have a nice time with you.”

“Good,” he said quietly, nodding. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Tom said immediately. “I just wanted to make sure. So, what are some of your pet peeves?”

“What is it with you and these questions?” Thankfully, you arrived at the bookstore and were spared from answering.

One of your favorite things about hanging out with Tom was that you didn’t necessarily need to be attached at the hip or in constant conversation in order to have fun. As soon as you entered he made a beeline for the True Crime section while you went to look at the new releases.

It was nice to just browse on your own for a while, and you ended up buying a book you’d been wanting to read ever since it came out. Tom was still perusing the shelves after you checked out, so you sneakily went up to the bakery counter and bought some dessert.

He found you sitting at a table in the cafe, reading your new book. “What’s this?” He gestured to the two pieces of cake and cups of decaf coffee on the table in front of you. “You should’ve let me pay!”

You’d been anticipating this, so you merely rolled your eyes. “Cry about it. You paid for dinner; it was the least I could do.”

“That’s not how this works,” Tom objected, but he reluctantly sat down and pulled his cake towards him anyway. The two of you discussed your books while you ate, and you tried not to act like you were eyeing his slice the entire time.

He noticed, of course. “You wanna try?”

You nodded sheepishly. You expected him to push the plate towards you, but instead he scooped a piece up onto his fork and held it out. “Here.” A little surprised, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed it to you. For some reason it felt oddly intimate.

He was watching you expectantly as you chewed. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, swallowing. “Really good.”

It was getting late and the store was closing soon, so you left after finishing your coffees. Usually this was when you’d call it a night and go home, but this time you felt no strong desire to. So when Tom started walking along the river instead of heading back towards the restaurant, you didn’t mind at all, falling into step beside him.

The night sky was clear, giving you a breathtaking view of dozens of stars. Hardly anyone else was around, and the river below was quiet and calm. It was like you were suspended in time. You couldn’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.

Tom’s hand bumped yours as you walked. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then it happened again, and this time he laced his fingers through yours.

For some reason that was what made everything suddenly fall into place, for you to finally put two and two together and realize what was going on.

Oh my God.

“Tom,” you said hesitantly, shattering the comfortable silence between you.

“Yeah?”

“Is this . . . a date?”

He stopped walking, forcing you to do the same. Under the soft glow of the streetlights you could see he was staring at you. “Wait,” he said slowly. “This whole time . . . you didn’t know?”

Now that he’d basically just confirmed it, everything started to make sense: coming all the way to your office just to ask you to dinner, bringing you coffee, making reservations at a fancy restaurant, paying for the meal—

You were on a date and you hadn’t even realized.

“Oh, God,” was all you could say. You almost wanted to laugh, though nothing about this was even remotely funny. It was like you’d been hit over the head with a brick.

How could you not have known? It should’ve been obvious when he paid for the meal; no, when you realized you’d be eating at such a fancy place; no, when he showed up randomly on Monday, brought you coffee, and fucking asked you to dinner.

You both seemed to realize at the same time that you were still holding hands, and he quickly dropped it and stepped back. For the first time since you’d met, the air between the two of you was awkward. “I—I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“I should’ve known,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m so stupid, I just didn’t think—” You didn’t finish your sentence. You honestly couldn’t figure out why you didn’t realize it sooner.

Because he’s your friend, a voice in the back of your head reminded you. He’s your friend and he’s never expressed any interest in you before, not like this.

That was true. You’d always thought Tom was handsome, and maybe early on in your friendship you’d fantasized about him once or twice. But he always treated you normally, never outwardly showing any sign of wanting more.  

“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately. “I should’ve made it more clear.”

“I’m just confused, I guess,” you said carefully. “I mean . . . why now? And why . . . me?”

He exhaled. “I overheard you the other day when you and Z were talking, and you were saying something like . . . you hadn’t been properly asked out and taken on a nice date in a while. So I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to take your silence as a cue to keep going.

“That’s why I came to your office, to ask you in person instead of doing it over text or whatever. And I saw you looking at those flowers your coworker had, so I bought you some. And I picked this restaurant because it was nice but also because it was near the bookstore. And I memorized some first-date questions in case our conversation got boring, but I think that probably wasn’t necessary.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And now that I’m saying all of this I realize how weird it sounds. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. His previous words were still echoing in your head. I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.

He’d taken the time to think about all the things you liked and used that knowledge to plan the Perfect Date. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something so kind, so thoughtful, so . . . romantic. Did this mean what you thought it meant?

Of course, the only way you were able to translate all of this was with, “Wow.”

But then he added, “And—and I didn’t do all of this because I thought it would lead to a second date or anything like that. I only—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your stomach plummeting. This conversation was giving you whiplash. “So you . . . don’t like me?”

“Huh?”

“You did all of this . . . just because? You don’t actually want to go on a date with me?” Now you were more confused than ever, and a little hurt beneath that.

Tom’s eyes widened. “No! Well yes, but . . . no. Wait.” He took a deep breath. Now or never, right? “I do like you, but this was separate from all that. I only meant that I wasn’t expecting anything from this. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

You nodded slowly, exhaling. “Okay. So . . . what if I told you that I did have a good time, that I like you too, and I want go out with you again?”

Tom blinked at you owlishly for a second before his face split into a huge grin, one you were sure your own was mirroring. “Then . . . I’d say . . . same. To all of it.”

“Good,” you said, stepping closer. “In fact, I think this has almost been the perfect first date.”

He paused. “Wait, almost? What would make it perfect?” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little panicked. You laughed, reaching up and cupping his jaw.

“It has to end with a good-night kiss, doesn’t it?”

Tom relaxed, his hands finding their way to your waist. “Oh. Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

The two of you were still smiling as you kissed, and Tom lifted one of his hands to do a silent, sneaky fist-pump. 

Mission: success.

[ddarker-dreams]

Exodus. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol mention, implied trauma, and panic attacks.  Word count: 1.6k.

Tonight commemorates an important milestone. 

You don’t know if you’d call this outing a “celebration”, the somberness of your mood presenting a stark contrast to the festive label. Reclaiming authority over your own life shouldn’t have been a necessity in the first place. To take pleasure in having autonomy again feels surreal, invoking a bitterness within you that can never be sated. Nothing serves as a permanent solution in making you feel better. Distractions, all of them, fleeting as the wind that carries you from one city to the next. 

The glass in front of you is empty, your throat burning from finishing it off. It’s late -- around midnight, last time you checked -- you should be heading out by now. Staying in one location longer than necessary is unwise. This prepaid card should have just enough to cover your tab for the night, if you’ve been keeping track properly. The man who’s been chatting you up for the past thirty minutes pauses when he sees you reaching for your wallet. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “My treat?” 

It’s a welcome enough invitation. “Ah... if it’s not too much a bother.” 

He shakes his head, and waves the bartender over. “It’s the least I could do. You make for a good conversation partner.” 

Good conversation partner, you think, repeating his words in your mind. Well, it beats some lecherous guy trying to feel me up. I’ll take it. 

“Though, I’ve got to say, are you feeling alright? You look like you’ve been spaced out for a bit. Did you drink too much?” He asks with a frown. It’s true that your head feels hazy, but it’s not debilitating. 

“I’ll be fine,” you respond, stretching your sore muscles. “Thank you for caring.” 

As more people from nearby clubs pour in for a drink, the bar feels more claustrophobic. Various people walk by you at every moment. You and your friendly companion have to move out of the way to make room for the influx of people, even though you’re sitting on barstools. Can’t people bother giving a bit more space? Geez... 

“Alright, just making sure,” he’s been feeling around his pocket for a few seconds now, eyebrows furrowing. “Huh, that’s strange, I could’ve sworn I left my wallet right here...” 

You look at the pocket he’s referring to, recalling how he put his wallet in there after ordering drinks for himself earlier. Before you get the opportunity to offer to help him search, there’s an additional voice behind you. One that instantly submerges your body into a state of unrivaled panic.

“I’ll pay for them.” 

There’s a hand placed on your shoulder. For such a light touch, it carries a heavy weight, your body all but crumbling underneath of it. Your breath catches in the back of your tightening throat. This... this can’t be happening. It’s been months. How is this possible, I took every precaution-- 

“Isn’t that right, [First]?” Chrollo comes into your view, a content smile on his face. The same smile that tells you he knows he’s won. The same smile that seals your fate, closing every door to the future you fought tooth and nail to open up. You don’t trust your voice, not in this petrified state, opting to nod your head once. Wrapping up some unsuspecting stranger in this is the last thing you want to do. Especially as courteous as this person has been to you.  

“Ah, thanks man, I must’ve dropped it somewhere,” he lets out an awkward laugh. From how Chrollo is referring to you with familiarity, he assume he’s your boyfriend. “I’ll head out for now then. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Y-yeah. Nice meeting you too.” You swallow bile that rises in your throat, every muscle in your body going taut. Chrollo takes the seat the stranger had once occupied and eyes you with acute interest. He’s wearing far more casual clothes than usual, bandages covering the peculiar mark on his head. Neither of you make a move. Had it been anyone else, any other person threatening you without so much as uttering a word, you’d be making a scene. 

It isn’t anyone else. You know Chrollo, you know the lengths he’d go to. One wrong move and everyone in here would be reduced to nothing less than a bloodstain on the floor. Playing your cards right is the only option, stalling until a better solution comes into your paralyzed mind. His dark grey eyes are unreadable, piercing straight through you, bringing a sense of dread like no other.

Your hands tighten on your lap, fingernails digging into the skin of your thighs. “How... how long...?” 

Chrollo raises an eyebrow at your quivering voice. “How long what? How long ago I knew the body wasn’t yours, that you’ve been using various forms of false identification, or since I entered this bar?” 

He returns your poorly executed question with a barrage of his own, delivered in an even timbre. Chrollo takes a sip from his own glass at your silence. What is there to say? What is there to do? You’ve been caught, trapped in the spider’s web, any forms of struggle fastening you further into his clutches. Squirming underneath his unrelenting stare feels even worse, but you can’t will yourself to remain calm. You know this is what he wants. To make you feel powerless, taking some form of twisted pleasure in your misery. There’d be a tiniest touch of satisfaction in denying him that, yet you can’t even manage that much. 

“I wanted to observe what you’d do, what lengths you’d go to,” Chrollo explains as he taps the rim of his glass, “Now that you’ve had your fun, I believe it’s time to come home.” 

Fun...? Is that what he’d call it? Having to look over your shoulder whenever you went out for basic supplies, the insomnia that haunted you as you feared you might wake to the sight of him watching over you, cutting off contact with everyone you cared for as you feared the repercussions if he found out? There was no fun in the last few miserable months of your life, only anxiety and lament. It took everything you had to escape from Chrollo once. Seeing the light of that victory extinguished is agonizing. 

Chrollo places a smothering hand atop your shaking one. “Though, I do have to admit that I’m quite... disappointed, with you. There’ll be time to discuss that elsewhere.” 

“What makes you think I’ll come with you?” you snap before you can stop yourself, pulling your hand to your chest in disgust. Chrollo doesn’t bother moving his hand. You both know your lack of power in this situation, how every act like that is nothing but an attempt to make you appear stronger than you are. Never before has his surname felt more fitting than now. 

“The same reason why you haven’t tried doing anything since I showed up,” Chrollo closes his eyes, reflecting. His voice drops to a sinister whisper. “You know what’d happen if you did.” 

There are no hidden strategies up your sleeve. No escape route, counter argument, or clever tricks. Your eyes dart around. There are people from every walk of life gathered here, none the wiser to the threat that looms over like a shadow in the night. College students, long time friends reconnecting, workers relaxing after a long week at the job. To Chrollo, they aren’t meaningful people with lives and ambitions, they’re puppets. His Nen is capable of horrors that you wish you could unsee. 

“In that case... what do I do?” Your body is heavy with the burden of defeat. Shoulders slumping, eyelids drooping, and eyes threatening to overflow with tears. 

Chrollo places some bills onto the countertop, money no doubt gained through the pain of others. “I’m glad you asked. There’s a car outside waiting for us.” 

Of course. This wasn’t a chance encounter, or fate spitting at you in disgust. It was meticulously planned and executed by a man who specializes in the art of thievery. You’d expect no less. Sighing, you reach for Chrollo’s drink, that he had sit down in favor of inspecting you. He watches wordlessly as you take it for yourself, chugging the remnants in its entirety. The flush on your face worsens at your actions, but you can’t bother yourself to care. 

It’s only when you place it down with a clink that he comments. “I leave you to your own devices for this short a time and you end up like this? Surely, being with me was better than jumping motel to motel for months on end. You’ve proven you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without my intervention.” 

“It’s because of you that I’m like this,” you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, venom dripping from your every word. “Don’t get the wrong idea.” 

Chrollo simply smiles, standing and motioning for you to join him by his side. For something that’s posed as a choice, it’s lacking the options to truly be one, a single path set ahead of you. Chrollo helps you to your feet, your legs too unstable to function properly. In the moment, you can’t settle on how you feel. Angry with yourself? The rest of the world for not being able to see what’s happening? Exhausted from months of being on the run? You don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore for certain, the room around you steadily becoming a blur. All you know is that it’s all his fault. 

“Whatever helps you feel better about yourself, [First].” 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Laugh

Prompt: Hi!! I really love your writing and always look forward to when you update, I can’t tell if your prompts are open (please ignore this if they aren’t!) but if they are I have a prompt for your (un)wanted series; each of the fae making Virgil laugh for the first time, at first he’s insecure/scared to laugh because of experiences in the village but he slowly learns to be ok/comfortable laughing thanks to the fae; again, if your prompts aren’t open I apologize and hope you have a nice day!! - anon

so uh

hey

did you guys know that this past Friday was the one year anniversary of the first chapter of (un)wanted

'cause wow

uhhhhhh I'm not good at speeches so have fluff

Read on Ao3 (Un)Wanted Masterlist

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, it’s found family nonsense

Word Count:  5419

Whether or not they agree on who made Virgil laugh first is irrelevant, the point is that they’ll find something to argue about sooner or later, and when they do, Virgil’s learned enough to curl up with Oliver and just watch. Preferably from the safety of the kraken’s head, a little bit away from the shore, where he’s close enough to hear the things they say but not close enough to be in the way.

It was Oliver’s idea to do that, actually. Virgil…hasn’t been the best at learning how to deal with anger. Other people’s anger, in particular, for completely understandable reasons.

 It had been Logan who spotted it, coming over to his side when the twins were having an argument over what side of the lake they were each taking jurisdiction for that decade and Roman’s voice had risen, Remus’s voice had multiplied, and Logan had seen Virgil curl in on himself, clutching his tunic tightly around him and trying desperately to vanish into the wall.

 Once the twins realized what was happening—namely, Virgil breathing heavily in Logan’s arms as he glared at the two of them for being so oblivious—they’d stopped right away, calming down and crouching to be smaller so that Virgil could see them, see them, not their anger, and apologize. Remus had tugged Virgil into his lap as part of his apology and Roman had ruffled his hair and promised that he’d never raise his voice around him again.

 Logan had been quiet as Virgil clung to him, only later working up the courage to ask what was wrong with him.

 “Nothing is wrong with you, little one, you’re experiencing symptoms of your trauma.” A cool hand had passed over his forehead, smoothing his hair back from his face. “Your experiences with human anger have not been good, it stands to reason that you react to it.”

 “But—it’s stupid,” Virgil had spat, “I know��I should know you guys won’t—won’t—“

 “Shh, shh, hush, now…that’s it. Come back here for a moment. There you go.” Logan’s chin had come to rest on top of Virgil’s head. “Knowing something theoretically and properly internalizing it are two different processes, little one. It’s going to take time.”

 “But I’ve given it time.”

 “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. There’s no textbook on healing from trauma.”

 “There should be.”

 Logan had chuckled. “I don’t think even with our combined lifetimes we would be able to read it.”

 But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t start trying to help Virgil work through it. It had been the twins who started taking the bigger steps; sometimes Roman or Remus would be spending time with Virgil and the other would bustle in, muttering about something or other gone wrong. A patch of kelp that kept getting infected, a herd of deer that insisted on trampling half of the garden, something. And as they talked, the other would coax Virgil into their lap, keeping him grounded. Their voices might raise, just a little, but they were very careful not to yell and the warm weight of arms around Virgil and a head on his shoulder kept him safe.

 When someone couldn’t hold him, Oliver does. The kraken made no secret of how much he liked to hold Virgil—Remus muttered something about how he wasn’t jealous of a kraken, shut up, Roman—and had no reservations about extending an arm for Virgil to step into to wrap him up and carry him to safety. The others made sure not to yell, of course, but that meant that it manifested in other ways.

 Logan’s hands turned blue.

 Roman’s magic started to tingle from his fingers.

 Remus’s tentacles came out.

 Janus started hissing.

 Patton’s chest glowed.

 And sometimes, when he’s safely in someone else’s arms and high away on top of Oliver’s head, that was fine.

 Virgil shuffles a little, careful to keep his weight squarely on top of Oliver, not shifting too much either side. Of course, that’s easy when Oliver is really fucking huge. And the kraken burbles every now and then, shifting slowly from side to side in the water, careful not to jostle him too much. He pats the spot next to him in thanks and the water thrums with Oliver’s purr.

 Onshore, about twenty feet away, he makes eye contact with Logan. Logan rolls his eyes dramatically, the sheer exasperation on his face making Virgil snort. When he looks back, Logan’s face has softened considerably into such fondness that he can feel the tips of his ears flush.

 “I don’t know why we’re still fucking arguing about this,” Remus says, drawing their attention, “I won! I got him to laugh first! So I win!”

 “You have no proof of that,” Roman says immediately, “besides, you haven’t even told us what it is, how are we supposed to trust that?”

 “Just because we’re not all Lolo with his meticulous journals and note-taking methods doesn’t mean I’m not right, you absolute—“

 “Language!”

 “Oh, I’ll show you fucking language—“

 “How is it,” Virgil mumbles at Oliver, “that they’ve been arguing for so long and Remus hasn’t said what he thinks it is yet?”

 The kraken just shrugs. Carefully, not moving Virgil, but he does shrug.

 “Well, since you’re so adamant that you’re correct,” Janus drawls, effectively cutting off Remus and Patton’s tangent about swearing—which is something they never can quite put down—“why don’t you tell us what it is?”

 “Roro and Pat were there,” Remus huffs, putting his hands on his hips, I don’t see what there is to argue about.”

 “We were—oh goodness,” Patton sighs, “are you talking about the first time Virgil met Oliver?”

 Remus beams. “Sure am!”

 “Was that when I got absolutely covered in that voracious green slime that was determined to consume me?” Roman scoffs and wipes his sleeves at the memory of it. “Absolutely dreadful.”

 Remus throws his head back and cackles.

 “It was a wonder I was able to get clean,” Roman mutters, glaring at his brother, absolutely splitting his sides.

 “Ah,” Remus sighs after a moment, wiping his eyes, “good times, good times.”

 He points victoriously at Patton.

 “See? You were there! You remember!”

 Patton sighs. “I do…but that doesn’t count.”

 “What?” Remus whirls around and gestures at Oliver, who stick up two tentacle tips and waves. “Are you discounting this magnificent, glorious beastie from our debate?”

 “Technically that would be Oliver getting Virgil to laugh, not you.”

 “Or,” Roman says, puffing his chest out, “it would be me. Since I was the one to get so egregiously wounded—“

 “You were covered in slime,” Logan points out, “calm down.”

 “—then it was me that sparked that reaction.”

 Virgil rolls his eyes and pats Oliver’s head again. “You’re not just a beastie, you know that, right?”

 Oliver rumbles under him.

 “Okay, good.”

 “Besides, that was barely a laugh.” Patton pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It was…okay, yes, it’s one of my favorite memories since Virgil has come to stay with us—“

 Remus turns and shoots Virgil a wink over his shoulder.

 “—but a laugh?” Patton looks at Logan. “What’s the definition of a laugh, Lo?”

 “Technically, it’s to express certain emotions, particularly mirth or delight, through a series of spontaneous and usually unarticulated sounds.” Logan crosses his arms. “Which means that as long as it wasn’t planned and it wasn’t articulated, anything counts as a laugh.”

 “Thank you!”

 “Alright, alright,” Patton huffs, “always with the technicalities.”

 “You were the one who asked me for the definition.”

 “So what do you think it is,” Janus asks, examining his gloves with feigned disinterest, “since you’re so insistent that you know the correct usage of the word ‘laugh?’”

 Virgil can see Patton’s grin from Oliver’s head.

 “Why, the bread day, of course!”

 As if on cue, several groans go up around the clearing.

 “Patton, none of us were there for that—“

 “You can’t just keep insisting on that one, it’s not like—“

 “You can stop rubbing it in, Pat—“

 “Of course, you need—“

 “It was wonderful,” Patton says, raising his voice just a little to speak over the others, “he looked so happy.”

 Virgil does actually remember that one too. And yes, okay, maybe he’s glad that he’s far away from the others so they can’t see the small smile spreading over his face at the memory. The warm kitchen, the smell of the bread, the soft warmth of Patton’s presence next to him…

 Yeah, that’s a good memory.

 Oliver thrums under him and he pats the kraken’s head absentmindedly. Patton sighs over on the shore as the others mutter amongst themselves. Then he claps his hands.

 “Well, I think that’s me winning, so—“

 “Hold on,” Logan says, holding up his hand, “as we said, you are the only one who was there. I would argue that a laugh where all of us were present is much more significant.”

 He glances up at Virgil and his gaze softens.

 “Considering the incredible amount of work that Virgil has done since arriving to stay with us, I’d say that marks…quite an achievement.”

 Of course, as soon as one of them starts to get all sappy, the rest quickly join in. Virgil is incredibly glad that he can use shifting on top of Oliver’s head to duck away from the blush he knows is spreading all over his face. Mostly so he doesn’t have to look at the fondness and pride on their faces. Partly because he knows Roman would immediately become insufferable.

 “So,” Roman says after a while, which means it’s safe to look up again, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

 Logan crosses his arms, using one hand to adjust his glasses on his face. “Do we all remember the first time Virgil began to experiment with his webs?”

 Virgil’s breath catches in his throat. Oh, he knows what Logan’s talking about.

 The seasons had been turning, fall creeping in through the tendrils of the forest. The leaves had begun to change, dislodging themselves from their branches and twisting down through the air to land in massive piles on the ground. Carpets of red, orange, purple, and brown had covered the paths they would walk, fruits growing heavy and ripe. Roman and Patton had spent hours out in the woods near the lake with him, plucking berries off the trees and eating them until their mouths and fingers were stained with the juice.

 The trees around the clearing had lost their leaves a little quicker than the others, leaving their limbs bare, the naked wood gleaming in the sun. The light had warmed the leaves during the day, leaving them dry and crunchy as they walked over them. Something Virgil hadn’t minded at all during the day—he had gotten into more than a few playful encounters with Remus, crashing through the leaves just to hear them crunch—but when night had rolled around…

 The thin limbs blowing in the breeze hadn’t been pleasant reminders that the seasons were changing. No, they were fingers tapping threateningly on the windows, or looming there to scratch him if he moved too much.

 Logan had noticed him hovering just outside the clearing the next day, softly placing a hand on his shoulder after alerting him to his presence and asking, gently, what the matter was.

 “The…the trees,” Virgil had muttered, balling his fists up in shame, “I, um…they…”

 Logan had taken one look at the way the shadows fell around the clearing and nodded firmly. “I understand, little one.”

 He’d tucked Virgil up in his arms when Virgil asked, rubbing his back gently.

 “Would you like to talk about it, or be distracted from it?”

 “Distraction, please.”

 Logan had smiled. “Have you had a chance to practice with your webs yet?”

 “No.”

 “Would you like to try now?”

 “Uh, sure. What do we do?”

 Logan had started to walk them toward the center of the clearing, explaining how spiders use their webs as a part of their consciousness.

 “Wait, they what?”

 Logan had nodded. “There is a theory of mind known as ‘extended cognition.’ It states that whilst humans—and most sentient beings—use their minds as a great deal of their processing of thought and feeling, we rely on a lot of external structures outside of our minds to help us think. Sometimes outside of our own bodies as well.”

 “Whoa…” Virgil had looked down at his hands. “What do you mean?”

 “Think of the way you organize your room.” Logan had gestured to Virgil’s door. “It’s laid out in a way that helps you think, helps you process information. It informs your decision-making sometimes, does it not?”

 At Virgil’s nod, Logan had asked softly for his hand, beginning to make small circles in the air as Virgil started to let his webs slip.

 “The same is true of a spider’s web. Picture the web as something of a hub.”

 “A hub?”

 “Yes. Do you remember talking about how spiders use their webs?”

 “Yeah, as like a sensory extension. They can feel the vibrations of different strands in order to track their food or sense what’s coming for them.”

 Logan had smiled. “Very good memory, Virgil, that’s excellent. Yes, they can tell the difference between different types of vibrations too, from different types of prey to debris to predators.”

 A small web starts to form between the gaps in Virgil’s fingers.

 “But what else they do is fascinating.” He tugs very gently on one of the strands. “The spider isn’t idle when it sits in the middle of its web. Rather, it’s constantly moving, checking each individual strand. Pulling this one a little tighter, tugging that one.”

 Virgil watches as the light gleams off of the strands. He moves his fingers a little to watch them. “What for?”

 “Pulling a strand tighter makes it more sensitive to vibrations.” He reaches up to Virgil’s head. “Like cupping your hand around your ear to hear things more clearly.”

 “Whoa, that’s cool.”

 “Mm. An external way of filtering what information the spider receives in order to better process it.”

 Virgil had looked up at Logan. Logan had smiled softly and stepped back, letting Virgil spin the web between his own hands.

 “…you think this will help me too?”

 “I think that my research has shown that taking a spider’s web away from them severely impairs their ability to function,” had come the quiet reply, “and that you haven’t had much of a chance to spin freely.”

 Virgil had looked down at his hands. The web had looked so small, too small. He had looked back up at Logan, chewing on his lip.

 “Can I…?”

 Logan had smiled and folded his hands behind his back.

 Virgil had closed his eyes and reached.

 There was something strange, he had realized, about being in your body without being in your body. Something like a wall, sometimes thick, sometimes only static, between you and whatever you sense. Hiding somewhere in a corner of your mind where you were in the world, but not really with the world. As if you were existing but just…slightly to the left.

 His body didn’t need to do anything spectacular, it just needed to exist. He was a shape. Just a shape. Nothing more, nothing less.

 And that was okay.

 Without even realizing it, his four legs had lifted him up, suspending him a few inches off the ground as his hands continued to spin. He had felt them taking the web produced and moving it from place to place, but he wasn’t thinking about it.

 He had just…done it.

 He had been the slight crack in his left finger as he wrapped his hands around and around the threads of the web.

 He had been the very tip of his upper left leg as it took the web and tossed it into place.

 He had been the last strand that decided to stick to somewhere and make that its home.

 When he had opened his eyes, an unknown amount of time later, his mouth had dropped open in awe.

 The clearing, previously empty save for the bare-limbed trees and scattered leaves, was draped and covered in spiderwebs.

 Logan, who must’ve been standing there quietly, had looked up and around him, eyes wide with wonder. He had turned slowly, spotting Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus, all staring around with wide eyes at the mass of webs that clung with gossamer elegance to the fabric of the world.

 Virgil had hung there, suspended amidst the web, spinning slowly as he felt the world breathe.

 Dusk had fallen, bathing the clearing in a soft light that reached gentle fingers out to paint thin blue shadows along the ground. The cool air had been weightless, blowing effortlessly through each strand and setting it to tingle. Everywhere a strand vibrated, a single drop of dew had formed, a single crystal in the half-dark.

 A glittering hub.

 And for the first time, Virgil had looked at something he’d made not with fear, not with anger, but with wonder.

 And he’d laughed.

 Giddy, child-like, bemused entirely by his creation and the way his body molded to the soft chimes of the web, spinning, spinning, unspun in the comfort of the mist.

 Virgil’s legs twitch behind him at the memory of the first web, and as he looks down, he realizes he’s been idly toying with a web on top of Oliver. The kraken, of course, is more than delighted to realize he’s received a present, burbling happily as Logan finishes his quiet recounting of that evening. A lull hangs over the shore for a moment before Logan adjusts his tie.

 “I believe I win.”

 “Hold on,” Roman says, “let’s not be too hasty, here.”

 “I do remember that,” Patton murmurs, glancing over at Virgil, “that web was so pretty.”

 “Pretty enough for Logan to win?”

 “Maybe not that pretty.” He sends a wink at Virgil.

 Rude.

 “Well,” Logan huffs, turning to Roman, “if you’re so certain, Roman, what on earth do you think it is?”

 Virgil can hear the fucking smirk on his face from here.

 “Have you all forgotten so quickly?” He spreads his arms. “Has the image of our sleepy little spider left your minds so soon after it happened?”

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Virgil knows exactly what Roman’s talking about.

 Okay, in his defense—who is he kidding, he knows damn well he set himself up for this. But it had been such a long day! He’d been working with Logan, trying to get the garden set up properly and that was hard, okay? Trying to manage the three different notebooks, the planters, the pots, the tools, it was a lot, and he still wasn’t used to using his new legs so he kept bumping into things and it was a lot. Then he had to help Patton with clearing out another section of the kitchen to make room for all the new baking pans and they were so loud and hard to manage and get the things in all the right places took so long and ugh. And then to top it all off Janus had promised to go with him on a walk and—listen, okay, the day was long.

 And Roman is really, really warm.

 He’d been walking back from the portal, drained from the effort of keeping his magic under control on the other side of the garden, panting slightly as he rounded the corner. He’d looked up just in time to see Roman shutting his red door behind him.

 “Ah,” he’d said, coming over with a smile, “there you are, little honeybee, I’ve been looking for you.”

 He’d taken one look at Virgil’s demeanor, however, and quickly softened his voice, coming a little closer, hands at the ready to ensure he was alright.

 “What’s happened, little honeybee, are you alright? Do you need anything?”

 “I’m fine, Roman, I just—oh—“

 “Shh, easy, hey, come here…” Roman had leaned Virgil gently against the side of the house. “Too much?”

 Virgil had nodded wearily. “Think I just…pushed it a little too hard today.”

 “It happens.” He’d run his hand gently through Virgil’s hair. “Magic-wise or just existence-wise?”

 “Bit of both?”

 “My poor little honeybee, you must be exhausted.” Virgil’s eyes had slipped closed for a moment as Roman had carded his hand through his hair again. “Do you want to be left alone, or can I take care of you?”

 Virgil had leaned into Roman’s touch and mumbled something. Roman had chuckled.

 “Those aren’t words, little honeybee.”

 “Mm.” Virgil had managed to crack one eye open. “C’n I come with you?”

 “Of course, Virgil, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

 Roman had guided him carefully through the red door, sitting him down and producing cloth and bottle out of seemingly nowhere. He had shushed any protests gently, saying that it didn’t matter that Virgil hadn’t been crying, he can still let Roman clean his face off. He’d cupped Virgil’s head and asked him quietly to look at him.

 “I don’t want you to fall asleep here, little honeybee,” he’d murmured, “so try and stay awake until we can get you somewhere comfortable, alright?”

 “I’m not that tired,” he’d protested, “I’ll be fine.”

 Roman had just smiled.

 And Virgil really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing him be so tired that he’d tried really hard to keep his eyes open. Even when Roman’s hand under his chin had been so warm, so confident in holding his head right where it needed to be. Even when the soothing repetitive motions of the cloth had coaxed his gaze not to Roman’s face but to the way the fabric moved in and out of his vision. Even when Roman had to pause and rewet the cloth and he’d let his eyes drift shut for a moment, just a moment.

 Only to realize later that Roman had stopped completely, and was watching him with a quietly smug smile.

 “Stay awake for me, little honeybee,” he’d whispered, “I’m almost done.”

 “‘M trying.”

 “I know, I know,” Roman had soothed, finishing cleaning his face, “and you’re doing a wonderful job for me.”

 Then, of course, everything had gone wrong.

 Because just that one little word of praise had been enough for the very tips of Virgil’s ears to go read, and of course, Roman had spotted it.

 “Little honeybee,” he’d murmured, tilting Virgil’s chin up just a little higher, “what’s got you so flustered?”

 “Nothing.”

 “Hmm, nothing? Are you sure? Your ears look awful red.”

 “It’s fine.”

 “Oh, I’m sure,” Roman had said lowly, still cleaning off Virgil’s face with gentle swipes of the cloth, “I’m sure it’s fine, little honeybee, I trust you completely, I’m simply worried. If I’m doing something wrong, then I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.”

 He says, as he’d looked directly into Virgil’s eyes.

 “Why,” Virgil had whined out as Roman had chuckled, watching him cover his face, “are you so mean?”

 “Sorry, little honeybee,” Roman had murmured, not sounding very sorry at all as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, “I couldn’t resist, you’re too cute.”

 “I am not!”

 “Oh, little honeybee—“

 “No,” Virgil had said—said, definitely, not pouted, “don’t respond to that.”

 “If you insist.” Roman had given him another moment before reminding him that he still needs to finish. “I’m really almost done, I promise. It won’t take much longer.”

 Of course, having someone hold your face when you were already flustered is not easy, and it was Roman, so…

 “What happened,” he had asked as though he didn’t know damn well what had happened, “why aren’t you so sleepy anymore, little honeybee?”

 Virgil had been quite impressed with the glare he’d managed to give Roman through the remaining blush on his cheeks. Roman had simply laughed.

 “Alright, I deserve that.” He’d stroked a thumb carefully over Virgil’s clean cheek and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the other. “You did wonderfully, little honeybee, thank you. I’m all done now.”

 Roman had turned away, putting the cloth and the bottle back into whatever aether he’d pulled them out of and offering his hand to Virgil.

 “Come on, do you want to change into something else?”

 The sleepy haze had returned by the time he’d managed to get into the softer clothes Roman had offered, all but stumbling into Roman’s arms as they retreated to the large mess of cushions and pillows. Roman had laid down first, Virgil on top of him, one hand tangled in his hair, the other scratching lightly at the center of his four legs.

 “Shh, shh,” he’d coaxed when Virgil had started to whine, “none of that now, little honeybee, just relax.”

 A soft knock on the door.

 “Yes?”

 “Roman, have you seen…” Logan had trailed off the instant he spotted them. “Ah. Nevermind.”

 “Have I seen our little spider?” Roman had lightly knuckled Virgil’s jaw. “Yes, I believe I have. Did you need something?”

 “Only to join you, if you’d allow me.” He’d glanced behind up. “Or rather, allow us.”

 Virgil hadn’t been able to fully recognize the others coming in to join them around the mass of pillows, but he had registered the soft weight of Patton asking if he could dust him off a little and the soft gurgle of Remus as he settled in above them on the wall.

 “My, my,” a voice had drawled, Virgil too tired to look over at Janus, “what a sleepy little spider.”

 “Mm.” Virgil had felt Roman’s chest warm as the hand on his back continued to scratch gently. “Precious little spider.”

 “Are you two just going to fuss at him until he falls asleep?”

 “Why shouldn’t we?”

 “Well, if you fluster him too badly he might not be able to sleep.”

 “Why, Logan, I’m hurt. Surely you know we would never.”

 Virgil still isn’t sure what it was, whether it was the drawl of Janus’s voice, Logan’s disbelieving scoff, or the very real memory of Roman enjoying driving him out of his mind a few minutes ago, but whatever it was, it bubbled up in the pit of his stomach and he started to giggle.

 The room had gone quiet, just listening to Virgil lying on Roman’s chest, absolutely stunned.

 “You’re so giggly, little spider,” Roman had teased, “so giggly, so adorable, I’ve never heard you giggle before. It’s so cute!”

 “Giggle spider, is that a thing, Logan?”

 “Well, it certainly is now.”

 Roman had rubbed his back soothingly, still teasing, trying to lull Virgil back to sleep. Janus had reached over and tucked a blanket over the two of them, leaning down to kiss Virgil’s hair and murmur something about getting it out, little spider, it would be alright.

 Virgil isn’t sure if that was the first time he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face, but it wasn’t the last.

 “…yes, alright,” Logan concedes, “that was adorable.”

 Roman throws his hands up in triumph. “See? Everyone’s favorite is our giggle spider.”

 Yeah, Virgil’s really glad he’s not standing next to Roman right now, and that he’s far enough away that they can’t see his blush if he ducks his head. He still gets all giggly when he remembers it, no use in reminding everyone of that now.

 “Janus? Are you going to try and compete, or…” Roman strikes a dramatic pose. “Shall we commence with my victory already?”

 Janus is quiet for a minute. Then he raises his hand and lets a little bit of the golden glow of the Claim flicker up around his hand.

 “Virgil,” he says softly—oh, he’s using it so he doesn’t have to raise his voice, that’s clever— “would you come over here, please?”

 “Uh, sure.” He pats Oliver’s head and the kraken burbles, wrapping an arm tightly around Virgil’s waist to set him on the shore near Remus. Remus reaches out to steady him, make sure he’s alright. “I’m good, thanks. I’m here now.”

 “Yes, thank you, little mouse.” Janus tilts his head. “Do you have a favorite?”

 “…favorite?”

 “A time you laughed,” comes the soft voice, “do you have one? It’s alright if you don’t.”

 Virgil glances around the circle, expecting to see scoffs or playful challenges or maybe—just maybe—someone will whisper that he knows theirs is the correct choice. But he doesn’t.

 All he sees are curious expressions, even a few encouraging smiles.

 “Wait, really?”

 Janus nods. “Anything? It doesn’t have to be much.”

 Virgil thinks. Does he? He remembers meeting Oliver for the first time, remembers making bread with Patton, remembers spinning in the clearing, remembers falling asleep on Roman’s chest.

 Something else…something else…

 “I remember,” he starts nervously, “it was one of the first times I went for a walk at night by myself.”

 He looks around, maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that, but no judgment meets his gaze. He swallows.

 “It was dark outside but the moon was really bright. I could see perfectly, even with the trees, all the way to the lake.”

 He glances behind him, at Oliver, playing in the reeds.

 “Oliver was asleep. He—I think it was after you guys spent the day cleaning out the underbelly of the caverns down there, he was really tired. So the lake was, like, super flat.”

 He remembers little ripples, just the barest touch of the breeze to the surface of the water.

 “And I, um, I realized that I’d never actually seen anything be that…” He struggles for a moment for the right word. “…still before.”

 He shifts a little.

 “Everything was always moving. Even when it was quieter, the water was never completely flat. There were waves, there were—there was always something.”

 But not that night. No, that night it felt like the lake was breathing, not like the wind was blowing across it. If he sat still enough, it was almost as if he could watch it inhale and exhale, at peace in the moonlight.

 “And I…I dunno, I really liked the way the moon looked.” He looks down at his hands. “It, uh, reminded me of what the Claim looks like.”

 He’d sat there for a while, just staring at his hands, wondering how the gold of the Claim would look bathed in silvery light. He’d rubbed them together, trying to see if he could feel it, only for something else to emerge entirely.

 He hears the gasps of Roman and Patton as a purple orb begins to form in his hands.

 “I, uh…made this for the first time that night,” he murmurs, watching it spin and dance in his hands, suspended there, floating like some great bubble, “and it looked…like me.”

 He remembers staring into it and not seeing anything but energy. About looking at it the way he used to watch the moon, the stars, anything he could never understand but wanted to, so desperately.

 Only to realize that he already understood it.

 Gone were the gauntlets, gone were the strings, gone were the threats of torture and hurt and pain.

 All that was left was this.

 And feeling that relief, seeing this orb as a manifestation of the fact that it was free…

 In that release, he’d laughed.

 “It was…the first time I think I realized I was me.”

 Virgil looks up at them. The orb fades back into nothingness, leaving his hands empty. After a pause, Janus reaches forward and gently draws him in.

 “That,” he says softly, “that is my favorite.”

 “You fucking sap.”

 “He has gone soft.”

 “Oh, like you haven’t?”

 And just like that, the petty bickering is back, but filled with fondness and barely concealed amusement and it’s so perfect, it’s so right, that Virgil can’t help himself.

 Virgil can’t help it, he laughs.

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[jaehyunfirstlove]

Nonstop - Ch. 2

After making a name for himself as only the second rookie in the history of the sport to win the championship, Jeong Jaehyun has an insatiable thirst for victory. Written off by his detractors as a stroke of luck, he’s determined to prove them wrong, embarking on a reckless quest to win another championship, regardless of the lives he may ruin, including his own. You haven’t been a part of his life for a long time, but you’ve been the only one who could reason with him. Can you save him from himself, or is it too late?

Pairing: racer!jaehyun x ex-girlfriend!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, motoGP au, (eventual) smut (18+ only)

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 1.1k

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77 @mrg-jjh @keeach​ @erisxczenie​ (send me a message if you want to be tagged in future fics)

Ch 1

A/N: Y/N finally meets with Jaehyun...

Disclaimer: i am not a medical professional or a motoGP expert, so please excuse any inconsistencies.

The eight hour flight to France was exhausting, but when you were finally at the circuit at Le Mans the severity of the situation sunk in. You walked into the garage with heavy steps, knowing at any moment you would come face to face with Jaehyun. Luckily, Taeyong found you first.

“Oh Y/N!” He beamed when he saw you, pulling you in for a hug. You were genuinely happy to see him, you’d missed his calm and sweet demeanor.

“I still can’t believe you brought me out here,” you said, nervousness making you wring your hands, “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

Just then there was a commotion, as Jaehyun entered the garage with his head mechanics, engaged in a passionate conversation about something, judging by their wild gesticulations. But when he saw you he went still, and silent, everyone around him coming to a halt. They all looked at him in confusion, but soon enough they figured out whatever it was didn’t concern them, and they dispersed, leaving you, Jaehyun, and Taeyong alone in the garage.

He was rooted to his spot, and you were rooted to yours, unable to move or speak. It had been years since you’d seen him in person, and although you’d seen him more recently on the screen, that could never compare to seeing him in the flesh. Instantly you were reminded of how you fell in love with him at first sight, and you even felt the butterflies in your stomach just like that first time. They always say that you never forget your first love, and truly, they’re right.

“Y/N,” he said your name like he was trying the sound of it on his tongue, and there was a quick flash of emotion in his eyes, before he suddenly turned to Taeyong.

“What’s going on here?” he addressed his friend, his tone harsh.

Taeyong didn’t back down, looking Jaehyun square in the eye. “I invited her here to watch the race. You mentioned she’d always wanted to see one.”

Jaehyun flinched, his icy demeanor cracking only slightly at the insinuation that he’d been talking about you. Taeyong knew what he was doing.

“Convenient that you chose this time to invite her,” he said through gritted teeth, and you couldn’t help but be shocked at the change in his personality. You hadn’t ever seen him this angry, and you had never seen him speak to Taeyong like this.

“Jaehyun,” you called to him, wanting to diffuse any rising conflict, “I’m here because I want to be here, now can we just talk?” You stepped towards him, ignoring the fact that your heart was beating out of your chest, because the more you could see him up close, the more the memories came flooding back.

He didn’t step back, and for a moment he looked lost, his eyes wild, like he’d been inundated with memories too. His eyebrows knitted together for a split second, before he seemed to iron out his face with the strongest of wills.

“Sorry, gotta do some practice runs,” he finally shrugged, putting on his helmet and walking past you towards his bike. As if on cue the mechanics rushed out from wherever they were hiding, prepping his bike and swarming around the garage in a flurry of activity.

You looked over at Taeyong who just shook his head sadly.

“Come on, let’s watch from the gallery upstairs.”

---

Taeyong took that opportunity to bring you up to speed on what had been transpiring, how Jaehyun had won his first championship through hard work and strict training, but everyone had insisted that it had just been luck. Yuta, the former champion, had sat out that season due to an injury, and everyone had been saying there would be no way Jaehyun would’ve won with Yuta racing. Not to mention that Jaehyun’s dad owned the team, so everyone believed he had gotten an unfair advantage. All of this had angered Jaehyun, and had only made his already intense competitive streak even more serious.

“He’s like a car with no brakes, hurtling towards the end at a million miles per hour,” Taeyong shook his head, “he feels he has so much to prove, even though I keep telling him he’s doing great, I mean, he won a championship in his rookie year! Only one other racer has ever done that.”

You watched as Jaehyun did his laps around the track, the sun setting in the distance. You remembered a determined boy, a go-getter who never gave up, who always picked himself up if he failed and tried again and again. He always pushed himself, and you admired him for that, but you had never seen this side of him.

“I’ll try again after practice,” you told Taeyong, and he smiled gratefully at you.

“That’s all I can ask of you, Y/N.” He said, patting your hand.

---

You waited in the back of the garage for Jaehyun to come in from practice, waiting until he’d finished talking to the mechanics, before you approached him. He saw you coming towards him and kept walking.

“Jaehyun, please hear me out,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with his long strides.

He shook his head. “Hear you out? Like you heard me out four years ago when I wanted to talk about breaking up?”

“Jaehyun, that’s not fair.” His words hit you like a bullet to the heart.

“Fair?” he scoffed, “What’s fair, anyways.”

“Hey,” you grabbed his arm to force him to stop and look at you, “talk to me! People are worried about you!”

“And you, Y/N, are you worried about me? Is that why you came all the way here?” he was keeping up his bravado, his chin up and his posture big, but you could hear the waver in his voice.

“Jaehyun, of course I am,” you reassured him, squeezing his arm.

“So why didn’t you come sooner? Why did you have to wait for Taeyong to call you?” 

“Jaehyun, I-”

“Don’t pretend you care, Y/N, we both know you’re here out of some misplaced guilt. Whatever we had was over a long time ago, so whatever you think you can do here, it’s not gonna work.” He said the last words in a huff, like he would lose breath if he didn’t get it out fast enough, before he turned around and walked away.

You could only watch him walk away in shock, the hurt and shame bringing tears to your eyes. He was right that you felt guilty, because you hated yourself for hurting him, and every day you regretted it, but you felt too ashamed to do anything about it.

[mmvalentine]

The Birchin | Feysand x Bat Boys

So, I have to imagine this scene has been written a thousand times to Sunday but firstly, I haven't actually read one and secondly, I JUST HAVE TO. Scene lift from ACOFS. The dirtiest, filthiest thing I have ever written and arguably too long for a oneshot sorry. Smut warning, OBVIOUSLY.

Azriel won.

His one-hundred-ninety-ninth victory, apparently. The three of the had entered the cabin an hour later, dripping snow, skin splotched with red, grinning from ear to ear. Mor and I, snuggled together beneath a blanket on the couch, only rolled our eyes at them. Rhys just dropped a kiss atop my head, declared the three of them were going to take a steam in the cedar-lined shed attached to the house, and then they were gone.

I blinked at Mor as they vanished, letting the image settle.

"Another tradition," she told me. "An Illyrian custom, actually- the heated sheds. The birchin. A bunch of naked warriors, sitting together in the steam, sweating."

I snorted. "So the three of them are just in there. Naked. Sweating."

Mother above.

Interested in taking a look? The dark purr echoed into my mind. Lech. Go back to your sweating. There's room for one more in here. I thought mates were territorial.

I could feel him smile as if he were grinning against my neck. I'm aways interested to learn what sparks your interest, Feyre darling.

I paused.

How... interested?

Dark amusement rolled down the bond. Why don't you come in here and find out?

I felt my neck grow heated at the invitation. Was he serious? And for that matter, was I?

At that moment, Rhys trailed a single talon down my shields. I didn't know what he was up to, but I let him in. And saw what he was seeing.

The room was thick with steam, and for a moment, white clouds were all that was in front of Rhys. Then the vapour dissipated, and I became aware of Cassian and Azriel's voices in the room. They were both sitting in opposite corners of the room, elbows propped up on the backs of the bench. Their dark hair was pushed back off their faces, although a lock fell into Azriel's eyes. The black of the Illyrian tattoos stood out even in the steam. And both of them were completely, gloriously naked.

My eyes travelled very, very slowly back and forth between the two of them. Gleaming hair. Powerful shoulders. Broad, patterned chests. Abs you could count. Lower.

Rhys snapped his shield neatly back down, and it felt like a window closing on my fingers. I snarled down the bond, and Rhys just laughed.

Want more? He purred. You'll have to come look yourself.

I was back in my own head now, but the images still danced before my eyes. Rhys' invitation glittered darkly before me, and I turned it over in my mind. Would he really be okay with that? Would I be okay with it? Were the Cassian and Azriel actually interested?

Cassian and Azriel. Rhys' best friends, and males I now considered kin. I wondered how something like sex might change our dynamic, and if finding out would be worth it.

Then I remembered that Mor had tangled with them and remained close as ever. Maybe five hundred years was a very long time, and new experiences were not so daunting to them.

At that moment, Mor yawned hugely and stood to her feet.

"I think I'm tapped, kiddo," she said. "I'm winnowing home." "You're not staying here?" "Sleep in my own bed is rare," Mor said, "and I take it when I can get it." She kissed me on the cheek and picked up her coat. "Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?" "Definitely," I said, and with a wink, she was gone. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I looked toward the birchin, and my heart drummed fast in my chest. Before I had fully made up my mind, my feet were taking me toward the door.

I stood in the snow, the wind icy but my cheeks burning. I couldn't bring myself to knock, not just yet. But I couldn't quite walk away, either. So I reached out with my mind.

Rhys? The endless amusement, again. Yes, my love? I'm here.

For a second, there was silence, and Rhys must have felt my apprehension because when he spoke in my mind he was gentle.

You know I'd never want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. That wasn't the part I was worried about. Do... do the other two know you invited me in?

Rhys paused again, and I could hear the feline grin in his silent voice.

They do. And, I asked. Do they... want me here?

The grin stretched.

They do, he said again. I have no idea how to convey to you how fucking stunning you are. You walk in here, and they will kiss the ground beneath your feet. Amongst other things.

The idea sent shivers down my spine. I put my hand to the wooden door, and stepped inside.

The first male I found was Rhys. Strong as our bond was, I often found myself turning toward him like a compass. So I wasn't surprised when my eyes sought a face and found his. He had an animal grin, and his eyes burned.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said aloud. Down the bond, he said, You naughty, wicked thing. I can't wait to see you play.

Rhys reached for my hand, and tugged me to stand between his legs. The heavy air settled itself on my skin. My heart jumped at the sight of him, slick with sweat and bare before me. He was already hard, and my core pounded in response. I wondered in that moment if the mating bond, the wanting him, would ever lessen.

"It's very, very warm in here," Rhys said. "You won't be needing this anymore." He took hold of the hem of my sweater, and slowly pulled it over my head, keeping eye contact the whole time. Making sure I was okay with this.

"Or these," he added, and slid his fingers into my waistband. I hadn't looked Cassian or Azriel in the face yet, but I could feel their gaze as Rhys slid my leggings off me. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as I stepped out of them, and as he straightened back up his fingers trailed up the inside of my leg. I shivered, despite the heat.

"In fact," Rhys went on, "warriors in the birchin get undressed completely, as a rule." My underthings were pulled off too.

Now, I was fully naked in front of him. Rhys' eyes roved over my body, and his hands followed. I still hadn't turned to the other two. And then Rhys put his hands on my hips, and very slowly, rotated me around. I leaned back into him slightly for reassurance, and he squeezed warmly.

"Feyre," he said, his lips at my hip. "Azriel won the snowball fight today. I would like you to be his prize. Would you do that for me?"

And then I looked at him. Azriel was still in the relaxed position I had seen him in through Rhys' eyes- leaning back, arms on the back of the bench, wrists limp. But his eyes were hard and glazed with lust, and now that I was here in person, there was no hiding the solid length of him.

I could feel myself staring, but I couldn't drag my eyes away. Not when Azriel brought his bottom lip between his teeth, without moving a single other muscle, and I could see him staring right back at me.

"Would you give him his prize, Feyre?" Rhys asked again. He kissed the back of my hip.

I was too nervous to say anything, so I just walked. One foot in front of the other, and as I got closer I found that I wasn't so nervous, after all. Because now I could fully see the hunger on Azriel's face. Rhys hadn't been lying. Azriel wanted this, too. I stopped in front of him, and made sure to keep my eyes on his.

"Congratulations, Azriel," I said shyly. "Give him a kiss, Feyre darling," Rhys drawled. "Azriel is the best snowball fighter in all of Prythian."

I stepped over Azriel's knee and settled myself carefully in his lap, facing him, relishing the feeling of his breathing speeding up beneath me.

"Feyre," Azriel said softly. His eyes searched mine. "Can I touch you?" "Yes," I breathed, and waited.

Azriel's hands came up cautiously, and glided over my hips. A groan so low I almost missed it issued from his throat. He met my eyes again, and I gazed steadily back at him. Azriel's hands moved now, up my sides and down my back. They were so hot on my skin, that I relaxed into him. When they slid back down, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

In all the time I had known the Shadowsinger, I had never seen him ruffled. That was kind of his thing. Every movement Azriel made was controlled, calculated, intentional, and it made him the perfect spymaster. Not this time.

As soon as my lips touched his, Azriel inhaled sharply through his nose, and his arms came up around me. He was so beautiful, I had always wanted to touch him. But I hadn't expected the sudden tenderness, the emotion that seemed to pour forth from him as he crushed me to him, and the fluid motion that replaced his utter stillness of just moments ago. Then his tongue touched mine and this different, unfamiliar taste was intoxicating. I suddenly wanted more, so much more, and my shyness was completely forgotten.

A nudge between my legs alerted me to his growing hardness, and knowing he wanted me was fuel to my fire. With both of us naked, there was no going slow, no stopping his cock from sliding under me. He was slick from the steam, and his sweat, and what I was now realising was my own increasing wetness. I was losing myself in it, when Rhys cleared his throat.

I turned at the sound, and looked at him from Azriel's lap. I pictured myself through his eyes- lips reddened and eyes hooded. From kissing someone else. Rhys' violet eyes danced dangerously, and for a second I thought he was going to call me back to him. But instead, he said, "Azriel, share please." Then beckoned Cassian over without moving his eyes from mine.

I had honestly forgotten about Cassian, sitting in the opposite corner. But now I turned to watch him as he stood, taller and broader than his brothers, and walked toward us.

Sometimes I got too comfortable with Cassian, and it made me think he was another regular male. Sometimes he didn't seem so big. But now he towered over us both, and when he kneeled behind me he was still a head taller than me. He spoke in my ear, his voice like bottled thunder.

"Where do you want my hands, High Lady?" He hadn't touched me yet, but I felt it right down my spine. "Everywhere," I breathed. Cassian obliged.

First, his enormous hands closed over my shoulders. He squeezed, massaging me so I became liquid beneath his touch. His fingers probed the back of my neck, and my eyes slid closed in pleasure. So like Cassian to bring me this gentle strength.

Then the hands coasted down my shoulder blades, around to curve over my stomach, and up. To cup my breasts. I thought that anyone touching me like this who wasn't Rhys would be abhorrent, but I found that I trusted Cassian absolutely. The feeling still thrilled in my chest, but it didn't scare me like I thought it might.Then my nipples were sliding between his fingers and I heard my own moan before I knew I was making it. Sweat beaded down my back, and Cassian ducked his head and licked it off my skin, up my spine. My second moan was louder.

This seemed to awaken Azriel, who leaned forward to kiss my jaw, at the same time as Cassian put his teeth on the join between my shoulder and neck. Both of them grasped and massaged with their hands, and the pleasure was everywhere. My mind started to slide in and out of clarity, accidentally relaxing my shields enough for Rhys to slip in an image of us from where he sat. The two males all over me. And Rhys watching with his cock in his hand.

Does this turn you on? I asked him hazily. His answer rumbled down the bond. Does the sight of you naked, in heat, and being worshipped, arouse me? Oh yes. Yes I'd say it does.

I turned my head to see him with my own eyes, and the sight of him stroking himself as he watched me brought my blood to the boil. My skin grew extra sensitive, and being touched all over by the other two males was suddenly almost overwhelming. My head dropped back, and then there was Cassian, his hand on the back of my neck and turning my head so he could catch my lips with his.

Cassian did not kiss like Azriel. Not soulful and sensual like the Shadowsinger, but rough and unrestrained. His mouth was on mine only a moment before teeth and tongue were clashing with my own, and at the same time his fingers fisted to scrape against my scalp and pull at my hair. One of my hands floated to touch Cassian's face, but the other clenched on Azriel's shoulder. Somewhere far away, Azriel was scratching his nails up and down my thighs, as he watched me kiss Cassian while still seated directly over his own cock.

"Feyre," Rhys' voice carried from the opposite side of the room. "I want to see you while they work you. Turn around for me."

Cassian leaned back to let me up, and I stood and turned to face Rhys. He had slipped further down the wall, more slumped than he had been, and his eyes stayed on mine as he continued to move his hand over himself.

"That's right," he said. "Show me how much you're loving this."

Azriel's hands came up from behind me and pulled me back into his lap, now facing forward. Cassian, still on his knees, put his mouth on my nipple, and his hands gripped just above my knees as he sucked and flicked his tongue. I gasped and grabbed onto Azriel's thighs as my a shudder wracked through my body- but I kept my eyes locked on Rhys, and the hand that was now speeding up between his legs.

Now Azriel was moving. His lips meandered from my shoulder across and up my throat, and his hands... his hands were sneaking across my waist with gently, stroking fingers. Under my breasts, still beneath Cassian's busy mouth. Down my sides. Over my belly. Lower. He squeezed my hips once before his fingertips drifted between my thighs. The light pressure on my clit had my head dropping back and my knees falling open.

Look at me. The demand flashed through my mind. I pulled my head up, so heavy now that Azriel's fingers were moving. That's it, Rhys said, gentle again. Just keep those gorgeous eyes on me.

So I stared into the bottomless violet, even as my focus faded in and out with the steady, rocking rhythm Azriel was making. The same rhythm Rhys kept with his own hand. The realisation brought a gush of wetness between my legs, and Azriel moaned softly behind me as his fingers slid through it.

Cassian stood then, and his hips were level with my face. He brought his cock into his hand, and now the tip was at my lips. For a moment I just stared. Cassian was thicker than Azriel, in every part of his body, it seemed. There was something intimidating about it but also... very sexy as well. I opened my mouth, and Cassian placed the head of himself on my tongue.

Cassian's groan was deep and rolling, as he slid up and down. I closed my mouth over him and sucked as he pulled out, and then moved forward to take him as deep in as I could. Cassian's eyes closed as his hand slid around the back of my neck, and as I started to speed my pace, Azriel matched it with the movements of his hand on my clit. My moan was muffled in my full mouth.

Then Rhys coughed, and we all paused. Azriel was the first to move, standing up so I was pushed off his lap, and then turning me to the side before dropping to the floor behind me. Cassian took a step to the side too, and now Rhys' view of me was unobstructed once more. I resumed my work on Cassian, concentrating on breathing through my nose and flicking my tongue over his head.

It meant I was distracted, and taken by surprise when Azriel put his hands on my ass and licked right up the core of me from behind.

I pitched forward, grabbing onto Cassian's hips for stability, and choking slightly as his cock was pushed further back into my throat. I had to take him out of my mouth, and just brace against him for a moment as Azriel continued to slide his tongue into me, and stars burst before my eyes. Then Cassian was tapping his cock against my lips and I opened for him. I eased myself back and forth, pumping Cassian in my mouth but also rocking against Azriel's tongue. Cassian's head lolled back, and his fingers slid back into my hair. I opened my eyes, and looked sideways at Rhys.

It was too much. Azriel's mouth building me up. Cassian filling me with the thickness of him. Rhys staring right at me as his hand moved steadily up and down his beautiful hardness. The four of us, moving together, slicked with heat and sweat and sex.

My knees started to shake as I stood there, bent over, and my release started to trickle down my spine. My mouth salivated over Cassian's cock and made a dripping mess of it. But despite having much, much more than I had ever had at one time, I knew I couldn't come like this. Not without him.

Rhys, I begged silently. Rhys, please.

In what seemed like a single, fluid motion, Rhys had stood and crossed the floor toward us. Cassian and Azriel withdrew as soon as he approached, automatically deferring to their High Lord.

Rhys sat down on the floor, his back against the low wall. He pulled me into his lap, and for a minute I was relieved to be back in his arms, all of home to me. I took a deep breath, recovering slightly from the overwhelm of having the two other males all over me.

And then Rhys lifted my hips and sat me down on his hard cock.

Wet as I was from Azriel's tongue and the heat of the steam room, I came all the way down around him, and a loud, wanton sound escaped from my lips. Rhys waited for me to adjust, then started moving beneath me, and suddenly I was right on track for that orgasm. My eyes shuttered and my jaw dropped open as he thrust in and out of me. Then Cassian lay down on his stomach and sucked my clit into his mouth, and at the same time Azriel lowered his cock to my lips, not as thick but possibly longer than Cassian had been. I tried to move my head for him, but I was fast losing control of my muscles.

Rhys smoothed my hair back as he fucked up into me, and my head fell back against his chest. Since I couldn't move, Azriel started pumping himself in my mouth. Rhys' hands squeezed over my breasts, and Cassian's tongue flicked over my clit the way I had done over his head before. I was dimly aware that he had started jacking his own cock in his hand.

How does it feel, Feyre? Rhys asked silently. I could barely comprehend him. How does it feel to be fucked three times over like this? To have all these males, wanting you so badly? I tried to reply, but I couldn't even form words in my mind. All I could do was whimper down the bond, and Rhys fucked me harder. I was strung out like a taught bow, and started to seriously doubt I could survive this.

Behind me, I felt Rhys' attention shift.

"Azriel," he said, "you can come now." He slowed his hips and ground into me in circles, instead. It had me wound even tighter. "Come on her chest, Shadowsinger."

I was so caught up in my own pleasure that I was only now recognising the taste of precum on my tongue, and just as I did, Azriel pulled out, grabbed himself with his right hand and shot hot, white cream right over my breasts. It dribbled down over Rhys' fingers.

"For winning the snowball fight," Rhys said. "Congratulations."

Azriel slumped onto the bench, and watched the remaining three of us.

"And you, Feyre?" Rhys said. "Would you like to come, too?" "Yes," I babbled. "Gods yes." "Well," Rhys said to Cassian. "You heard her."

And then Rhys was kneeling up, keeping himself inside me, and pulling me up with him. Cassian had to shift upward too, and kept his tongue moving in this new position.

Now, upright but on our knees, Rhys could get an angle that meant he was that much deeper inside me. He pulled almost all the way out, then plunged in to the hilt, over and over while Cassian kept up the pace over my clit and the stubble of his chin added extra sensation as his jaw moved.

"Go on Feyre," Rhys said, breathless now. "Come for me. Come right between me and Cassian." No sooner were the words said than my climax ripped through me, the two males holding me up because there was no way I could hold myself. I shuddered hard against them, the intensity that had been threatening to ruin me this whole time finally breaking like so many ocean waves. Through the aftershocks, I watched as Cassian came jerkily in his hand without a sound.

As my body finally stopped shaking, Cassian rolled over and closed his eyes. His head rested against Azriel's foot, and although I was sure no one could fall asleep that fast, that's exactly what it looked like.

"My turn," Rhys breathed.

He let me down so I was on all fours, gripped my hips in his hands, and started pounding into me with no mercy. I thought I was spent, but my body reacted the way it always did to Rhys. I didn't see my second climax coming, but as Rhys knocked that spot inside me over and over, the orgasm hit me like a sledge hammer.

I came so hard I barely noticed Rhys coming, slamming into me from behind and breaking apart inside of me until it was running down the backs of my legs.

We dropped to the floor together, Rhys pulling me into his arms and my head onto his chest. With a glance, his magic cleaned us up and then we just lay there, breathing in the steam. My leg was draped over Cassian's, and he was indeed now asleep and snoring. Azriel was dozing off, too.

"I don't think you're supposed to fall asleep in a steam room," I said to no one in particular. I turned to look at Rhys. "Should we try to get everyone back into the cottage?"

"In a second," Rhys replied, his lips on my temple.

So I closed my eyes too, snuggled into his chest, and let the heat settle over all of us like a blanket.

****

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111

MASTERLIST

[rngknsk]

The Aftermath

Chapter 1: Consciousness

Sanemi Shinazugawa/Reader (F)

You find yourself alive at the Butterfly Estate beside your closest friend after the final battle against Muzan Kibutsuji. You both are hurting over the loss of your comrades, so you must find a way to comfort each other.

**THIS SHORT STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE DEMON SLAYER MANGA. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE MANGA.**

Tags/warnings: Shared trauma, angst, survivors guilt, slight tw, comfort, slight fluff, reader is a Hashira

You can also read here on Ao3. Enjoy!

It’s not your time yet, young one, you still have a long journey ahead of you.

Be sure to live a life that will inspire others every day, please know that I will always love you.

We will always be here, watching you, waiting for you. We know you will do great, we are so proud of you, Y/N. Live on.

✾✾

Rain pattering gently against the window stirred you from your dreams. You blinked a few times as you peeled your eyelids apart, feeling the discomfort of the built-up eye-crusts that had grown as you slept for the past few days, to which you didn’t realize just yet. Your mouth felt dry as you slowly smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Your tongue felt swollen. Staring up at the dimly lit, wooden ceiling of the building that protected you from the rain outside, you took a few moments to try to recall where exactly you were. You remained in a numb physical state, or so it felt; you just needed to fully wake up. When you did, all of the memories came flooding back.

You tried to pull yourself upright in the bed you found yourself on, but immediately froze as the pain shocked and ran through every nerve in your body. You shut your eye and let out a sharp inhale through your gritted teeth that interrupted the silence of the room, trying to ease the pain. It was then that you realized your left eye was covered. Slowly, you brought your bandaged hand up to your face, pressing your scarred fingertips to your cheek. Your head had been wrapped several times with a bandage that ran at a slight angle across your face and over your eye.

It was a long, final battle between the demon slayer corps and the demons. The war that was fought for centuries, even millennia, had finally been won, and because you remembered your victory, you were able to slump peacefully back into the bed you laid upon. You laid for a few long moments, the ringing in your ears starting to fade away, allowing you to finally relish in the serene sounds of the rain against the roof.

“You’re finally awake,” came a familiar voice to your left. You hesitated for a moment, tears welling up in your uncovered eye, realizing who the voice belonged to.

You slowly turned your head towards the voice before gasping out his name, “Shinazugawa-san?”

He met your alarmed gaze with a kind smile that made your heart feel warm and fuzzy, and it just might have been enough to cure the aches among the rest of your worn-out body. You wanted to tear the blanket right off of your figure and throw yourself upon him in a triumphant embrace, you wanted to bury your face into his neck and cry, but neither of you were in any physical condition for that.

Your fellow Hashira lay sitting up in his bed, covered in bandages from head to torso, arms to shoulders. He was certainly in a rougher state than you, but for good reason. Sanemi Shinazugawa risked his life for the sake of humanity against the demons, and the most feared of all, Muzan Kibutsuji. He was ruthless in every battle he’s fought, but until he butted heads with Kibutsuji, you’d never seen him so merciless. At the end of the fight, you were sure he’d never pull through. Before you passed out from exhaustion and blood loss, you caught a glimpse of his bloodied figure sprawled across the ground. The last thing you saw was Kibutsuji crumbling away, and with that sight you allowed yourself to finally drift off, to that you imagined would be death.

But it wasn't.

Instead, you woke up next to the man whom you’ve come a long way to care so much about. He was such a tough nut to crack, but you and Sanemi had become so close, and you were sure that you’d meet him in the afterlife along with many others, but rather, you woke up just a few feet away from him at the Butterfly Estate. With that you were beyond thankful at another chance. This time you were sure that you’d tell him how you’d truly feel. Now, finally, you’ll be able to express to Sanemi how important he is to you without any worry of an unexpected end, unlike the last time you opened your heart to someone.

“I’m surprised, you slept longer than I,” he continued. “I was thinking for sure that I’d never wake up, and instead I woke up to you still napping.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment. You figured he was trying to make a lighthearted joke, so you thought you’d at least react somehow. “I’m sorry, I thought I wouldn’t make it either.”

“You’re a tough girl, I knew you’d be just fine, unlike the others,” he slightly turned his gaze to the floor, a solemn expression curtaining his face.

Before you could ask, three Kakushi rushed into the room that you and Sanemi were resting in, audible gasps coming from behind their masks.

“S-She’s awake!” one cried as he ran out of the room. The other two hurried to your side to take your vitals.

“Please sit back L/N-sama, don’t strain yourself!”

“Yes, your wounds are still fresh and healing, don’t try to move until the nurses arrive!”

✾✾

Hours later, your bandages were rewrapped after you enjoyed a nice bath with the help of the Kakushi. They had given you an extraordinary painkilling formula that had been invented by Shinobu Kocho, the Insect Hashira and outstanding pharmaceutical expert, prior to her death. It was almost as if she created the formula in preparation of Kibutsuji’s attack. You had learned of the deaths of many, including the other remaining Hashira, with the exception of Sanemi and Giyuu Tomioka. You prayed to them as you sat in the bath after the Kakushi gave you some time to soak alone. You cried, for they weren’t as lucky as you to be able to know a world without demons, to know a world in which you could live free. However, each and every life that was lost during the battle against Muzan Kibutsuji belonged to those who fought valiantly and believed in the freedom that you were so fortunate to experience.

It was evening now, and the rain had finally stopped. The colorful pastel clouds were moving out of sight, and the falling sun gleamed brilliantly between the damp leaves of the trees it tried to hide behind. The dew drops sparkled against the rays before they each slid off of the leaves at their own individual pace. You slowly walked yourself outdoors to the engawa, which is where you found Sanemi. He was sitting by himself, a single leg hanging off of the engawa edge while his other was propped up in front of him. You’d never seen him so quiet and peaceful looking, even with his back towards you. You didn’t want to startle him or disrupt his alone time, but you wanted to talk to him. You wanted to know what he was thinking; what was going through that mind of his?

“Shinazugawa-san,” your voice gently hit the breeze, carrying your greeting to his ears. His head slightly perked up, but his gaze remained forward. He didn’t respond, but rather patted the wood floor beside him. After a moment of noticing his gesture, you stepped forward to slowly lower yourself next to him, gritting your teeth to suppress any signs of pain from your injuries. Once seated beside your friend, you glanced out of the side of your eye to see a single tear rolling down his cheek. The sight punctured your very soul. After all these years, training and fighting beside this battle-hardened man, you never thought you’d see him cry. Of course, he lost his younger brother during the battle, so it seemed he was taking this time to grieve; you were just surprised that he allowed you so close to be able to see him in such a state.

“Genya would have liked this view, don’t you think?” Sanemi broke the silence, fighting away the cracking of his voice. “When we were kids, we would always watch the sun set in the evening. It was one of the things that really helped us forget how shitty the world was for us back in those days. Seeing his bright, wide eyes and that happy expression was what pushed me to continue forward every time. But now…” he finally turned away, wiping his remaining tears with his sleeves. “I just wish he could be here to see it, to see the sun set in a world where we don’t have to fight for our lives anymore.”

You didn’t know how to respond. It seemed as if the best option would be to let him talk and express how he was feeling. It was, after all, better than him bottling things up, similar to what he’s done for his entire life. Genya wasn’t the only person that Sanemi has lost. You couldn’t forget what he had told you about, what had happened to his family, what he had to do to protect Genya way back then. He’s lost family, friends, others… And you did too, but this wasn’t about you. Right now, you had to comfort someone who was very dear to you.

“I wish he was here too,” you spoke, leaning yourself towards him to rest a hand upon his shoulder. You hoped your gesture would help ease him. “I wish… everyone was here. Our families, our friends,” you lowered your head for a moment in respect, saying a silent prayer for those who had been lost. When you looked back up you found that he had turned to your direction, and you locked eyes with him. His expression was absolutely pitiful. You could feel him tense up when you began to involuntarily squeeze his shoulder faintly. “But we must live on. Live on for them, or else their sacrifices would not be worth anything. Please, Shinazugawa-san, know this,” you rested your other hand upon his, which was laying atop his lap. “Every person that you have ever loved is always watching over you, and they are so proud of you, including myself,” you smiled warmly as you concluded your words of reassurance.

Trapped in each other’s watery eyes, there was a sure understanding between you both. You knew how he felt, and he knew that of you. Ever so gently, Sanemi leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. His hand reached up and rested behind your head, pressing you even closer to him. As you both sat there beneath the dimming purple skies, you quietly thanked whatever higher beings allowed you both to survive hell and finally find paradise. Stars began peeking through the pastel-colored atmosphere, and the air felt fresher than it ever had before. You both shared a smile.

“Thank you for everything, L/N-san.”

✾✾

[fluffywings13]

Throwing The Gauntlet

Keigo looks up from his phone when one of his gloves is thrown down into his lap, meeting his adopted son’s sparkling green eyes, and looks down at the glove in his lap. “Are you—”

“Yes.” The teen nods firmly. “Yes I am.”

He looks up at him sympathetically. “Bad day.”

“Yes.” The teen nods just as firmly. “Yes it was.”

“Understood.” The hero tosses his phone over his shoulder, quickly followed by his glove, and boosts himself up with his wings. “Same stakes?”

“Yes.” The teen nods just as firmly again. “Same stakes.”

…

“I don’t know why you think you can challenge me.” The hero smiles at the teen’s shrieking giggles as he scratches under his baby toe with the talon of his index finger, their match had been one for the record books, the teen had held his own for a good length of time, until he decided he’d had enough of being Mr. Nice Guy and went after his belly button, claiming victory over their well fought battle. “I always win, you know I do, I know I do, I know you know I know I do.” Keigo grins at his son’s squeals when he scratches his talon down the length of his sole. “How are you already losing it, I’m not even doing anything.”

Keigo is well aware of the fact that the boy is fourteen, but that will never stop him from being his adorable little cutie bird, the little cutie bird that used to follow him around his agency hidden under his wing, peeking out at everyone they stopped to talk with.

Izuku squeals and arches his back when two talons scratch over the arch of his foot, pressing his chin to his chest, fanning his toes out before clenching them tightly, jerking his captured foot around in an attempt to get away from the two talons. He shakes his head when a talon scratches at the ball of his foot, arching his back again, turning up onto his left side, feeling the grip around his ankle adjust itself to accommodate his change in position.

He likes it, he likes these moments, he likes being able to goof around with his dad, especially after a bad day or the man’s been extra busy and their schedules don’t line up so they can be together. Make no mistakes, his dad still takes the time out of busy days to make sure he knows he’s thinking about him, he’ll come home after a long day, deep into the night, and he’ll feel him pulling his blankets up over his shoulder, warm lips brushing over his temple as he drifts off to sleep. He likes these moments, he loves them, where his dad and him get to mess around, to bask in each other’s presence.

Izuku likes it.

The teen squeals when a talon strokes down the middle of his foot. “Just think, I got two feet to play with, and we haven’t even gotten to those toes yet.” He scratches under the teens toes with his talons and smiles when he squeals again, cackling madly, toes fanning out and wiggling frantically. “I know all about these toesies, yea I do, I know all there is to know about them.” Izuku screams with laughter when the hero holds his toes steady and scratches at the pad of his big toe lightly with his talon. “What’d ya say, should we play with these toes, have we waited long enough?” The greenette shakes his head frantically. “We haven’t, you want me to keep playing with your foot instead, those toes not ready yet?”

“Oh, I’m gettin’ me them toes.” Keigo scratches at the teen’s heel lightly. “And boy, am I gonna get them toes too.” He reaches over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take one of my feathers.” He plucks a small feather from his left wing. “I’m gonna put it just about here.” Izuku shakes his head when the hero threads it between his last two toes. “And, I’m gonna saw it just like this.” The teen squeals loudly when he starts brushing his feather back and forth, cackling loudly, his toes wiggling as he jerks his foot around. “Just like this, this is nice, I’m glad you threw down the gauntlet.”

The teen squeals and cackles, yanking on his foot, squealing when the feather moves to his next two toes. His dad chuckles softly, turning the feather over, and starts tracing shapes over his sole, and he shrieks shrilly, tugging on his foot desperately, especially when he finds a bad spot just above his heel, a spot he knew full well was there, and focused on it for a while longer. “How about we move on to that other foot, I can feel it wiggling around, it wants some attention too, doesn’t it?”

Izuku shakes his head frantically. “Nohohohho! Plehehhehehehease! Nohohohoho ihihihit dohohohohoesn’t! Dahahahahahahaad nohohohohoho!” (No! Please! No it doesn’t! Dad no!) He squeals when the quill of the feather starts scratching lightly at the ball of his foot. “Dahahahahahad! Dahahahahaaadddyyy! Nohohoot thehehehehheeere! Nohohohot thehehehehehere! Thahahahhaat’s nohohohohot nihihihiice! Yohhohohhou’re beheheheheeing meheheheheheean!” (Dad! Daddy! Not there! Not there! That’s not nice! You’re being mean!)

“No, I’m being very nice, me being mean would be doing this.” The hero grabs his other foot, holding both up by his ankles, and mentally threads feathers between his toes. “This is me being mean, kiddo.” He wills his feathers to move and the teen screams, kicking desperately, a feather between each toe, howling with laughter. “This is mean, don’t you think, was I being nice before?” Izuku can only nod, laughing too hard to form words, this was mean, this was dad being mean, he was being nice before, he regrets saying he was being mean now. “Hows about we just sit here for a few minutes before I pick another spot, how’s that sound, let’s say, five minutes, five minutes of feathers between your toesies, sound like a good plan?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOHOHOO! IHIHIHIHIT DOHOOHOHOHOHOHOESN’T! MOHOHOHOHOVE MOHOHOHOHOVE PLEHEHEHEHEHEEASE! IHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHAAN’T TAHAHAHAHAHHAAKE IHIHIHIHIT!” (No no! It doesn’t! Move move please! I can’t take it) The teen manages to scream between fits of uproarious laughter. “DAHAHAHAHAHAHAAD PLEHEHEHEHHEHEEEASE! GEEHEHEHEHEHEHET THEHEHEHEHEEM OUT! GEHEHEHEHEHET THEHEHEHEHHEEM OHOHOHOHOHOUT! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOT FIHIHIHIHIVE MIHIHIHIHINUTES! PLEHEHEHEHEEASE!” (Dad please! Get them out! Get them out! Please! Not five minutes! Please!)

“I could though.” The hero teases gently. “I won, that mean’s I get to do whatever I want to you, those are the stakes remember. You win, I’m your personal slave for the day, I win, I get to play with you for however long I want. I won. You’re stuck at my mercy. And I’m not feeling particularly merciful today.” The teen pants and giggles when he calls his feathers back to his wings and drops his feet. “But, because I love you so much, I’ll move on. Working my way from bottom to top. Where next?”

Izuku just giggles breathlessly, watching the hero climb up over him, laying himself over his legs. He shakes his head pleadingly when feathers curl around his wrists, and he struggles against them, when his arms are lifted above his head, watching in horror as his shirts pushed up over his belly.

Keigo pokes at his lower belly, and he bites his lip, twitching and swallowing giggles with every poke. “Now we’re on the tummy. This tummy’s really in for it, I know just how bad this tummy is, I’ve had years of research.” He pokes up to the sides of his belly button and pauses there. “Guess what’s gonna happen to this tummy, go on, give it your best guess.” The boy merely shakes his head. “Want me to tell you, just get it out in the open, pass the guessing altogether.” He wiggles his fingers slowly and those adorable giggles pick up just a tad bit more. “It’s gonna be tickle tortured.” The hero claws his two fingers in sharply and the teen bursts with a loud squeal, bucking his hips, kicking his legs as best as he can under the hero, against the feathers holding them in place. “Oh yea, right there, right there’s real good.”

The greenette squeals shrilly laughter, twisting and turning, rocking from side to side, trying to get out from under those two fingers. Just two, all he needs to break him is one or two, that’s it, no more then that. He throws his head back and arches his back, pressing into the fingers, which makes him drop back down, and curl inwards slightly. His squirming is so much that the hero curls his arms down around his hips as he continues wiggling his fingers on the sides of his belly button, humming under his breath as though he wasn’t holding down and torturing a howling and squealing cutie bird.

“I’m gonna be mean to this tummy, I’ve just decided, in return for saying I was mean to those toes, if you think I’m being a meanie, then I’ll be a meanie. And that means….” The hero pinches down the sides of his belly and at his hips, until he arches his back again, and snakes his arms underneath him, curling around him to keep him from moving too much. “Berries. Lots and lots of berries.”

Izuku begs, he begs between fits of squealing laughter, already lost and nothing was even happening, for him not to do berries, which only makes him want to do them more. “Pleheheheheheease! Dahahahahahad nohohohot thohohohohose! Eeeeeieaiiaiaiaaaahhahahahahahahahahaa!” (Please! Dad not those! *squeal*) He squeals when the hero’s head dips teasingly. “Plehehehehehease! Nohohohoot beheheheheheherries! Plehehehehheeeeiaiaiaaiaaahahahahhahahahaa!” (Please! Not berries! Ple--*squeal*) He squeals when the hero’s head dips again. Why is he squealing despite no raspberries being laid down, because they’re that bad, that’s why, even the thought of them makes him want to squeal, and the hero’s head dips. “Eeieaiiaaiaaahahhahahahahahahahaa nohohohoho! Eeieaiaieaaahahhahahahahahhahaa stohohohohop trihihihihicking mehehehehee!” (*Squeal* No! *Squeal* stop tricking me!) Keigo grins and dips his head again. “Eeieiaiaaahahahahahahhahaaa!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop tricking you.” The teen regrets his words when the man takes a deep breath and buries his face in his belly, blowing a long harsh raspberry out over his belly button, and he screams. “AAAAAHAHHHHAEEEAEAAEEAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAA NOHHOHOHOO WAHAHAHAHAHAHAAIT EIEIAIEAIAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA AAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA DAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAD EIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!” (No wait! Dad!) He squeals when his dad takes another deep breath and buries his face in the side of his belly before blowing another raspberry, and again when he takes another deep breath and blows a raspberry over on the other side of his belly, and screams when he takes a deeper breath and blows out a harsher raspberry over his belly button. “AAAHAHAHAHHEHHAHEHHEAAIEAIEAIAAIAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA EIEIEIAIEAAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAEHEHAHAHEEAIEIAEIAIAIAAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAAHAA DAHAHAHHAHAAD! STOHOHOHOHOHOP! STOHOHOHOP EIEIAIAEAIAAHAAHAHHAAHHAAHAAHAAA AHAHAHEHHEHHEAHAHEAIAIAIAAIAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! (Dad stop! Stop!)

Keigo does not stop, he continues blowing raspberries all around the teen’s belly, basking in his high pitched squealing laughter, he loved it, as someone who never got to do these kinds of things in his previous life, he admittedly took advantage of the fact that he did get to do them now.

He blows his last raspberry and pulls back, smiling at the panting giggling mess left in his wake, and gives him a few minutes to catch his breath, because he’s nice like that.

Before raising his hands, hovering them over the teen’s belly, and making him giggle again.

He dips his fingers, and the boy squeals softly, arching his back, right into his wiggling fingers, and Izuku shrieks, dropping himself back down rather quickly. “I’m gonna get you, nestling.” The teen shrieks softly, shaking his head, giggling harder when the hero’s fingers dip down again, they don’t touch, but it still makes him squeal softly. “I’m gonna get you.” He shrieks and squeals softly, arching his back, meeting those wiggling fingers again, and he shrieks once more, throwing himself back down. “It’s gonna tickle, isn’t it?” Keigo dips his fingers again and Izuku giggles harder, shrieking, trying to suck in his belly. “You love the claws, don’t you, they sure love you.” The teen shakes his head frantically, giggling wildly, watching his hands as though his life depended on it, and their distance above his bare belly. “This tummy is gonna get it. I know every little ticklish spot you’ve got. I know just how ticklish this tummy is, I’ve done plenty of research.” Izuku shrieks and shakes his head, trying to suck in his belly, and hold it there, no easy task with his belly shaking with the force of his giggles. “They’re almost there. I’m gonna get you. I’m gonna get you and it’s gonna tickle so much.” The hero smiles playfully. “So, so much.”

Izuku inhales when the fingers stop wiggling, hovering just over his belly, and shakes his head again, biting his lip harshly, just staring at those fingers hovering precariously. He screams when they finally dig in, clawing into his belly viciously, arching his back into the fingers as he presses his chin to his chest. “Coochie, coochie, coo, cutie bird.” The hero claws at the teen’s belly for at least a good three minutes, clawing around, fingers vibrating in, basking in his shrilly squealing laughter. “How about we go back to where we started, huh, back to that one real bad spot.”

Izuku shrieks and shakes his head, even as the hero leans over his belly button, index fingers touching just outside it, on either side. “Nohohoho! Nohohoho dahahahahad nohohohoo! Nohohohot thehehehehere!” (No! No dad no! Not there!)

“Not where?” He digs his fingers in and the teen screams as he bucks his hips, squirming and twisting side to side, kicking his legs again. “Not here?” He wiggles his fingers in on either side of his belly button. “Does my lil cutie bird have a ticklish tummy?” Once again, the hero curls his arms down around his hips to keep him in place. “He sure does, my lil cutie bird has a super ticklish tummy.”

Keigo hums and leans over, resting his chin on his palm, and waits for the teen’s wild giggles to calm down. “Of course, we can’t forget the best spot, the primo most tickly spot, can we?” The greenette giggles brightly when he circles a finger around his belly button, shaking his head wildly. “Oh yea, right here, this little button, best spot ever.” He stops twirling his finger around and smiles. “And, in it goes.” Izuku screeches when he dips his finger in and starts wiggling around, arching his back and throwing his hips from side to side, trying to suck in his belly, but losing the ability to do so when the hero twists his finger around and he screams and squeals. “Does this tickle, cutie bird?” He smiles when the boy nods frantically. “Does it tickle bad?”

“Yehehehehehees! Yehehehehehehes! Gehehehehehet ihihihiihit ohohohout! Pleheheheheease gehehehehehet ihihihihit ohhohohohohout!” (Yes! Yes! Get it out! Please get it out!)

The hero’s feeling a tad merciful, so he gives another three minutes of wiggling his finger in that special little belly button, before pulling back, and resting on his elbows. He just smiles. His smile makes the teen giggle.

Izuku squeals when he leans forward, arms resting along his sides, and dips his head toward his belly. “Eieieaiaieaiaahahahahahahhahahaa! Nohohohoho!” (No!) The hero leans over just an inch to the right and dips down again. “Eeeaiaiiaiaaaahahhahahahahaha dahahahhahaad! Nohohohoho!” (Dad! No!) His dad is suck a tease. “Eeieiaiaiaaahahhahahahaahaa stohohohohop! Stohohohop teheheheheasing meehehehehee!” (Stop! Stop teasing me!) Keigo grins and bows again and the teen squeals. “Eeieiaiaaahahahahhahahahahaha aahhahahahahahhahahaa dahahahahhaad!” (Dad!)

He grins mischievously and takes a deep breath, falling forward, he buries his face in the kid’s belly and blows a harsh raspberry into his belly button, Izuku squeals loudly. “EEEIAIAIAIAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA DAHAHAHAHHAHAAAD EIEIAIAAIAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA AEEIEIAIEAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA AAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! EEIEIAIAIAAIAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEEHERE!” (Dad no more! Not there!)

His enjoyment is at the kid’s expense of course.

He laughs into the boy’s belly when he somehow, no one is quite sure how, manages to worm his right hand out from his feathers and buries his fingers in his hair and tugs desperately.

That mean’s it’s time, and he blows on last long raspberry over the teen’s belly button and pulls back. Flopping back against a stack of pillows, he smiles fondly as the teen curls up, curling his arms around his belly as he giggles deliriously.

The winged man nudges him with his foot. “C’mere, nestling, I’ll rub your tummy. No sneak attacks. I swear.”

Izuku eyes him carefully, his dad’s well known for his sneak attacks. “Let me see your hands.” The hero laughs softly and raises his hands, no crossed fingers, no valid argument, so he pushes himself up, crawls over to the man, and turns, flopping down over his lap, humming in delight when a large warm hand rubs his tummy soothingly. “Thanks dad.”

The man hums. “Feel better?”

“Yea,” the teen yawns and nods. “I feel better.”

“Good.” Keigo rubs a small circle over the middle of his son’s tummy and smiles when the boy purrs softly. “Take a nap, little one, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[bethansfandoms]

Sirius as a clingy drunk and remus just happens to be the person he clings to most, if Remus hugs and cuddles cannot be acquired he clings to James and whines about Remus, how pretty he is, how much he wants to snog him and wanting Remus to hug him

it was the last quidditch game of sirius’ hogwarts career, and they’d only gone and bloody won.

as expected, the after party was insane. there was food and music and, most importantly, alcohol.

the common room was still heaving and not just with gryffindors. it was a friday night and apparently the hufflepuffs and ravenclaws who had found the way into the common room to celebrate slytherins defeat, were willing to risk a detention in order to stay long into the night.

“are you not dancing?” lily asked, flopping down next to Sirius on the sofa, her cheeks pink and her smile wide.

“is remus still in the library?”

lily grinned, “aw, you know how he gets before the moons.” she checked her watch. “pince will have kicked him out by now, he’ll be back soon.”

sirius nodded and took a generous sip of his drink. he had been dancing, a lot. he’d sung abba with james and he’d screamed along to bowie songs and he’d jumped on the table so much one of the legs had started to break.

now, however, he just wanted remus. it was a full moon the following night and remus’ headaches were beginning to appear so he had made his excuses. valid excuses, but excuses nontheless.

sirius hadn’t even seen him since they’d won the match; since james had scored right before the slytherin seeker caught the snitch giving them those ten points they needed for the 150 slytherin scored not to matter. it had been a hell of a victory and a hell of a game.

“there you go, what did i say,” lily grinned, pointing towards the portrait hole. remus had appeared. and he was making a move towards the stairs.

“moony!” sirius leapt up from his seat and wrapped remus in a tight hug just before he could begin climbing up to the dormitory.

“agh,” remus exclaimed; he hugged him back anyway. “sirius, let me go.”

sirius just held on tighter. “i missed you.”

remus laughed, “i’m right here.” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “padfoot, you need to let me go.”

sirius sighed and reluctantly detached himself. it sucked, keeping their relationship a secret. sirius knew it was the wisest thing to do, but it still hurt to have to keep everything behind closed doors, especially now, when all he wanted to do was kiss him. but he couldn’t, because people were there.

“you played really well,” remus said, softly.

“for you.”

he smiled at that. “sirius, i’m going to bed now, yeah?”

“noooo,” sirius complained, touching remus’ face and tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. it was not at all platonic but sirius was drunk and people probably wouldn’t give it a second glance.

“yes. keep celebrating, don’t worry about me, okay? i’m really proud of you.”

i love you sirius thought, but the words didn’t leave his mouth and he let remus ascend the stairs.

“prongsssss!” he spun and found james, dancing wildly, and made a beeline for him. “evans, i’m stealing james,” he announced. grabbing james’ sleeve.

“pete, you’re in,” james enthused, pointing at the boy in the corner. peter looked up at him, shook his head, and fell asleep almost immediately.

“what’s up?” james asked as sirius pulled him onto the sofa.

“i’m in love with remus.”

james laughed, “sirius, i know, you told me last year, remember?”

“no,” sirius waved a hand dismissively, “i mean i love him but i haven’t told him that yet.”

“oh... do you want to?”

“obviously! have you said it to evans?”

“well... yeah.”

sirius groaned and lay down, his head in james’ lap. james laughed but didn’t shake him off.

“i love him so much,” sirius complained. “he’s so kind and he puts up with all my shit and he’s so beautiful and—”

james laughed again, “i don’t know why you’re telling this to me!”

“becauseeee,” sirius whined, “he’s gone up to bed and i haven’t kissed him all day because there’s always people around and it just makes me sad that i can’t.”

james ran a hand through his hair, “aw, mate, it’s okay. why don’t you go and find him now?”

sirius rotated himself so that he was looking up at the ceiling. “what do you mean?”

james shrugged, “go find him. he’s upstairs and we’re all down here.”

“but i’m drunk, he won’t think i mean it.”

james ruffled his hair, “he loves you too.”

“did he tell you?”

“he didn’t need to.”

sirius smiled, “you’re a good friend james.” he sat up and everything went blurry for a second before refocusing. he took james’ head between his hands. “no, a brother. you’re a good brother.”

james laughed and pushed his hands away, “yes, okay, now go and find remus he can be all clingy with him instead.”

sirius nodded and stood from his seat, “i love you james! but not like that.”

some of the common room heard it and laughed. “love you too, padfoot.”

sirius saw lily laughing before kissing james’ cheek as he climbed the stairs, slowly as to not fall down them.

“moonyyyy.”

remus pulled back the bed curtains and laughed when he saw the state of sirius, “what are you doing up here?”

“i want to see you, obviously.” he lay on the bed next to remus and immediately wrapped his arms around him.

“you’re so clingy when you’re drunk.”

“‘s not just the alcohol. i haven’t seen you all day.”

“what do you mean? i was with you all morning.”

“no, but,” he leant up and kissed remus firmly on the lips, “i haven’t properly seen you.”

remus raised an eyebrow, “ah. i see. i’m tired, sirius.”

“nooooo.” he clung to him tightly. remus laughed.

“you should sleep as well, padfoot, you’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow.”

he groaned, “i regret that last firewhisky.”

“don’t worry, i went to madam pomfrey on my way back from the library, asked her for some pepper up potion. it’s the moon tomorrow so she didn’t question it.”

sirius nuzzled into his neck, “you’re amazing. you always take such good care of me moony.”

remus chuckled and threaded a hand through sirius’ hair, “yeah, well, you take care of me too.”

“yeah. ‘s cause i love you.” he let go of remus and sat bolt up right which made his head spin. “bugger. wait, okay i swear i’m not just drunk because i do actually happen to—”

remus kissed him. to shut him up, sirius realised that much, but he smiled into it nonetheless. “i’ll say it back if you can remember this in the morning.”

sirius pouted. “that’s not fairrrrr.” they lay back down, sirius’ head on remus’ chest. he started to drift off very quickly after that; remus continued to play with his hair gently.

“i love you too,” he whispered. sirius smiled and finally passed out.

[tazanna-blythe]

Done

Chapter 5

~Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie~

"Wellcome ladies so how's school?" Sabine said with a motherly smile smile then placing a freshly baked Croissants on the table.

"Where fine, just another day at the clown house, I swear that our classmates have no brain cells not one of them "Chloe said while spreading butter on her croissant then without any hesitation she ate it.

"I beg to differ dear but i think they still have one connecting brain cell,seeing as they are one and no one can break their bond"Mari and she also ate the croissant happily

"So Dumb,Dumber,Dumbest then? or all equally dumb?" Chloe mumble (she took another bite on her food)

"No it's like they all have an on and off button for their reasoning and common sense and Liela has the button" Mari

"And She uses her sausage her as an antenna the give them signals hahahahahahahhaha"Chloe

"Ladies that's not nice besides everyone has their own preference or style that they think is fashionable ... all though i wanna know who told her having a sausage as an inspiration for a hairstyle especially when she moves her head she looks like a paddle ball a had when i was a kid" Sabine

both Chloe and Marinette bust into laughter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Collège Françoise Dupont Clinic

*Bell *

Adrien is still sleeping soundly and the kind nurse doesn't want to wake him up and clearly from how pale his face is and how dark his eye bags are and how bone to skin he is, she made a decision to call his guardians to pick him up and have him take a proper rest and some good soul food too judging by how boney he is. this child is a model she understands this but this is to much and it has a medical term called MALNUTRITION so she's not gonna stand by and do nothing.

So she quietly and gentle as she can took photos and notes on Adrien body. because he is wearing a plain white T-shirt and a loose pants all she has to do is hold some of the cloth of the T-shirt to make it tight to show how small and boney he is and she all so did the same thing to the pants. His wearing a T-shirt so his some of is upper arm is shone so the nurse took a measuring tape and measure his arms and leg. And lastly because of the akuma attacks the School funds for the clinic doubled and because of this most of their equipments are brand new and the latest model so the bed has a scale built in it so she took his weight and height. and all of this is recorded in the clinic's CCTV camera she made sure of it.

After all that is done she neatly filed this info on her computer and flash drive then she called his guardians. fortunately for him his father and his assistant is so busy that they cannot answer their phone so it was Gorilla who was called to pick him up.

When Gorilla arrived the nurse was so scared of him she almost scream in fear when he suddenly appeared in front of her luckily she didn't.

"Hello Sir. how can i help you" Nurse

"Hi my name is SImon and I'm here to pick up Adrien" Gorilla (HIS NAME IS SIMON OH MY GOSH I JUST FOUND OUT TODAY!!!)

"Hi my name is Katty and I'm the school nurse nice to meet you"

"Likewise"

"Im sorry but before I hand over Adrien to you i need to see your IDs please"

"Sure"

"Ok it seems that everything is in order then you may take him home, and also my advice is to keep him stress free, eat and sleep more cause we don't want him to suddenly collapse now do we"

"Yes ma'am"

Then Gorilla slowly and Gently picked up Adrien like a porcelain princess and took his backpack/sling bag and went home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Collège Françoise Dupont Gym

"Ok class since Adrien is sick we need to still proceed to class. Now, I want all of you to make two lines.One for boys and one for the girls CHOP ChOP!!! " Gym teacher

“Um Sir. What about lila??” Rose

“What about her?“

“Lila Sprained her risk and ankle so she cant stand very long“ Alya

“Ok then Who’s Lila, Raise your good arm“

“Sir. I’m Lila Rossi“ Liela replied with a small smile and leaning into her left foot for effect

The Teacher saw her and slowly walk towards her while inspecting her body for injuries

“Which foot is sprained and which arm?“

“My right foot and arm sir “Liela said weakly.

“Can i check your arm and foot?“ The Teacher ask nicely

“Yes of course“ 

So someone brought a chair for her to sit while the Gym Teacher inspect her injuries

“Awww, Aw aw aw awaaa that hurts“ Liela cries dramatically like a spoiled dog. While the Teacher was just holding her arm not doing anything other than carrying it like a sausage

“Ok then Lila where's your medical note seeing as this is a “BIG INJURY” your parents shouldn't have let you go to school?“ The Teacher looking and talking to her like a person would to a two year old

“My Dad left us since i was young and my Mom is so busy that she’d forgotten about me“ Liela said sadly trying to make her tears drop not realizing that the teacher don't buy it

“Hush now don't cry dear I’m sure your mom is just tired now why don't you sit here and be quiet while all of us start the class,O.K“

“Yes sir“ with a final fake sob she smile at the Teacher.

“Ok,now two lines people, great now everybody just jog 20 laps then you are dismissed.But remember do not break your line and JOG NOT RUN OK ALIX AND KIM! if i see any of you break your line or run i’ll make everyone do 15 jumping jacks then additional 10 laps. Am I Clear! “

“Yes,Sir!!“ the Students then do as they were told while lila stayed seated smiling at her small victory and proceeds play on her phone and to search for more things to lie to make her even more popular.

While everybody was busy doing their task no one noticed the Gym Teacher also take’s his phone and contacted the School Nurse asking for Lila’s medical records and telling her what happen today.

Faking an injury to a teacher who was an athlete himself was a big No No but he cant just outed the child right then and there because she’ll get emotional and he doesn't want to cause another akuma.He’ll just do it the old fashion way... Making the parents discipline their own child. but first he needed her records. 

“Did you just see what i just witness?“ Chloe while looking at her exhausted classmates after they finished 20 laps.

“What?“ Mari while handling her a bottle of cold water

“You really didn’t see that?,Thanks“

“You mean Liela’s ridiculous lie then yeah and so?“

“So? So?, Mari she just gotten away with it and it wasn’t even a good lie and acting“

“No, I don’t think she did“

“Huh?! Would her majesty care to explain?“

“Our gym Teacher is an Athlete who won medals in his time. He out of everyone here would have known just by looking at someone if they have any physical injuries“

“So he just let her go?“

“No. I don't think he would so let's just watch and see what he'll do, besides if he really fell for it then his just another idiot who needs to be replaced” Marinette said as she and Chloe backed their bags and left.

~~~~~~~~

“Hey Nino do you have any info about Adrien??“ Alix

“Yeah Nino what happen to him?, you were the last person we saw with him?“ Alya

“Well he looked sick so i send him to the clinic, I didn't know that he was that sick“ Nino

“Well I Just hope he gets better“ Alix

“So has anyone gotten started researching yet??“Alya

“Nope we were just hoping that will do it together like in a slumber party?“ Rose

“Actually that’s not bad soo who's house are we going?“Juleka

“What are you guys talking about? and where are we going?“ Liela walked to them when she saw her minions talking without her and of course she was escorted by the ever loyal dog Kim

“I umm“ Juleka

“Yeah where are we going?“ Kim 

Everyone was looking at each other knowing that they can fool kim but not Lila.

“Well-“ Alya

“We were planning on a slumber party tonight but we haven't decided where will be staying?“Juleka

“Oh!! why don't we stay at my place my parents arent how so i have are house all to myself and you guys don't have to bring anything with you because and my parents just went to the supermarket yesterday“ Rose

“Really that's great so it's settled will head home pack then will go directly to Rose’s house“ Alya

“Great I can't wait to spend time with my very BEST FRIENDS! but aren't we gonna invite Marinette and Chloe?“ Liela 

“No need they’ll just destroy and ruined the party. So what are we waiting for let GOOOOOO!!!“ Alya

After that everyone started packing their bags and left to their respective homes with a smile on their faces.

***************

It's been so long since I Uploaded something and i hope you guys liked it....        If you guys have any suggestion i’ll be happy to read and maybe include them in my next work.

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