#“you have the annoying habit of not dying when you're supposed to”

[howtodrawyourdragon]

"It's like a nightmare - we can't get rid of him!"

This is what Hiccup is saying about Alvin currently hanging from their observation balloon that they're using to escape.

But I'm pretty sure it's the other way around in the movie universe.

"It's like a nightmare! We just can't get rid of him!" A Dragon Hunters moans in misery as the Dragon Rider descends on him from on top of a Night Fury, just seconds away from sinking another ship.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Questionnaire Tag

Thank you for the tags @paeliae-occasionally and @willtheweaver!

My Questions:

Would you give away secret information if tortured? Be honest.

Who could you trust the most with a secret?

You have been caught somewhere you shouldn’t be! Quick, what is your excuse?

Do you gamble?

What habit of yours would strangers find weird/ annoying?

What is your favorite story? (Could be any media)

For this one I'm going to use Ninma, Penetinos, Shela, and Mikrab (I feel like that's a good variety)

Would you give away secret information if tortured? Be honest.

Ninma: "No!" She glares at you, fists clenched and little chin raised, frankly furious that you would even suggest that.

Penetinos: "It would have to be some pretty heinous torture. I fear I wouldn't be the best of captives, I'm dying as is and pain is nothing new. Besides, I try to know little things, not important things."

Shela: "Well...of course I want to say I wouldn't but...I think I might. I guess you never know unless it happens right? Its easy to be brave about that sort of thing when you're ignorant." She grimaces, "I've seen what the Bidani did to criminals..."

Mikrab: "Ha! Torture me? I have no secrets and If I did than any one who could best me would deserve to know them. I am not bound by loyalty to anyone, not even to myself."

Who could you trust the most with a secret?

Ninma: "Narul! He doesn't talk much and he's good at keeping secrets."

Penetinos: "Hmm...myself I suppose, but if I can't say that, then I would say...perhaps Narul? He isn't much for gossip. It definitely isn't Istek. He is a good man...but words fall from that sailors mouth like acorns from an oak tree."

Shela: "Otilia...she has no reason to share our secrets, and I would trust her with anything."

Mikrab: "No matter what secrets you tell them, the song of the birds will not betray you."

You have been caught somewhere you shouldn't be! Quick, what is your excuse?

Ninma: "Um...I was looking for Tamel and um..." She pivots and dashes away.

Penetinos: "Was I not supposed to be here? I apologize...it is the nature of a senile old man to appear where he isn't supposed to be isn't it? Now...can you show me which way the bath house was?"

Shela: "I was sent here by...I can't remember his name, sir...he was old, with a grey beard, he told me to retrieve him a scroll...but I can't find it here. I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

Mikrab: " I decide where I should and shouldn't be. Are you where you are supposed to be?"

Do you gamble?

Ninma: "Um...no?" She glances over at where Narul is sat, arms crossed.

Penetinos: "No, not usually...maybe I'll bet a fig or a date or a dice roll but...that's about it."

Shela: "You sort of need something of value to gamble on..."

Mikrab: "No. What's the point?"

What habit of yours would strangers find weird/annoying?

Ninma: "Um...my brother Bazus used to say that I talk a lot and that I'm...com...combative?" She shrugs her shoulders.

Penetinos: "I fear I might ramble somewhat, the result of a lifetime of study I suppose."

Shela: "I'm not really sure...I guess I might get a bit nervous or anxious sometimes? I tap my fingernails a lot, does that count?"

Mikrab: "I don't care."

What is your favourite story?

Ninma: Her eyes gleam mischievously. "The Crashing Waterfall. So in the story, there's this Ekiku (horseman, aka the Kishite equivalent of a knight), and he's riding through the forest looking for a lost princess. He gets trapped in a big, um..." She vaguely gestures with her hands as she tries to find the word, "Canyon! He's in a big canyon! A big rock falls, so now he's trapped and the walls are too tall to climb. So, he rides down the canyon until he comes to a waterfall, and behind the water he can see stairs leading up, up, up to the top. He tries to climb but, WHOOSH! The water is too strong and it pushes him back down.

And then a spirit in the skin of a frog appears and says, 'Ribbit! You're too heavy, good Ekiku!' So, he takes off his helmet and tries again. WHOOSH! Too heavy still! So, he takes off his armor. WHOOSH! Too heavy! His shirt. WHOOSH! The rest of his clothing. WHOOSH! And so, he takes his dagger and cuts off all his hair and beard. WHOOSH! And so, he says to the spirit, 'What else can I take off?' and the spirit says, 'Ribbit! There is another item which weighs you down, good man.'

And so the Ekiku takes his dagger and cuts off his..."

"Ninma!" Narul interrupts her hurriedly.

Penetinos: "I've heard a lot of stories...but I think that my favourite is the story of Nanax the Sailor, they say he travelled so far that he found a land where the sun never sets and where no trees grow, and where giants ride whales like men ride horses. A fascinating tale...who knows how much of it is true."

Shela: "Well...my father used to tell me the story of how Lat the Hunter captured the Dragon of Fifina with nothing but a single fishing net...I'm not the best storyteller...I'm sure Istek or Jani could tell it better."

Mikrab: "I've forgotten them. And the few that I remember, I do not want to tell you."

Tagging @pluttskutt, @illarian-rambling, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @elizaellwrites, and @elsie-writes

Your Questions:

Do you have any nicknames? If not, what should they be?

What is the bravest thing you've ever done?

Where is somewhere you've always wanted to visit but haven't gotten to see yet?

Are you a good liar?

[smilesrobotlover]

Guess what I gave myself the brain rot too lol

Abel stirred, rubbing at his face to wake himself up. Something tickled his nose, and he sniffled, arm reaching over to find Til and hold her. When he found nothing but air, his eyes opened blearily.

The world around him was... foreign. But not. But... huh?

Am I still dreaming? He wondered, still half addled. Sensory input came and went, half noticed, before his brain snapped into focus.

He was in a bed. There were other beds. There was someone talking, there was a canopy, there--

This was a stable. He knew that stableman, that was the one who ran Dueling Peaks Stable.

"What the hell...?" he muttered under his breath, looking around. Was... was he dying? Was he ill? This was still a dream, right?

Goddess, it all looked so real.

Slowly rising, Abel got out of the bed--a bed, he hadn't slept in an actual bed in years--and found that his boots were missing. He frowned a little, mildly bemused, and walked towards the entrance to the stable. When he stepped outside, he slowly walked around back and saw--

Fort Hateno. Damaged, mostly destroyed, but there, in the distance.

So this dream was mixing reality with the past? Abel had never actually seen what had happened to the fort - he'd run into the Sheikah and his son before ever getting there. He supposed this was probably how it should have looked.

What is happening?

He supposed this dream could be convenient and at least give him a horse, but when he asked, it seemed he hadn't boarded one. Typical.

Abel settled for walking, however annoying it would be with no shoes, but when he reached the fort, he was greeted by soldiers.

They watched him curiously, almost is they knew him but couldn't quite figure it out. Abel stared at them with wariness and a touch of disbelief - he didn't even know what to say, it had just been him an Tilieth for so long.

Not to mention... well, he knew some of them, but others were unfamiliar. This was certainly a creative dream.

"Get mugged on the road?" one of the soldiers asked, a touch of concern to his tone.

Abel stared at him. There wasn't a point indulging the dream, anyway. It was too bizarre to play along. He continued walking until the soldiers stopped him.

"I swear he looks just like Ammon," one of them whispered. "Doesn't he have a brother or something?"

"I thought his brother died."

"Another brother?"

"You're probably getting your stories mixed up."

This was getting tiresome really fast.

"You got a horse I can use?" Abel asked.

One soldier pointed behind him. "There's a stable--"

Rolling his eyes, Abel pressed forward again and was stopped yet again.

"I'm Ammon's brother," Abel finally said, since it seemed like it would shut them up.

"Ha!" one of the knights clapped his companion on the shoulder. "Told you! Why do you look so awful?"

Abel's expression grew even more sour.

"Were you attacked? Was it Yiga?"

"Sure," he answered with a wave of his hand. When was he going to wake up?

After indulging the people for a while longer, he found himself with shoes and a horse. His stomach growled as he moved on, and he finally realized he had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. It seemed... it was just habit to head to Hateno from here.

And the farther he went, the more an unsettling realization sank into his mind. His stomach twisted as his chest clenched, breath growing constricted.

This... felt too real.

His horse automatically followed the road, and the next thing he knew, the familiar arch leading into the village was within view.

Hateno Village. He was going to Hateno Village. He--something was--

What was happening?!

Growing anxious, Abel coaxed the horse to move faster. He guided the mare through the village, ignoring greetings or stares from others (from familiar faces oh goddess is that the baker, and there's the cattle farmer who had tried courting Tilieth, and there's the stableman's daughter) and heading straight for--

Home. But it... it hadn't been home in years. Tilieth had said it had been destroyed.

Abel practically leapt off the horse, rushing into the house and seeing--

Not Tilieth.

The woman had similar features, blonde curly hair and kind eyes, but she was a little shorter in stature and with hair length. She turned to see him, eyes widening a moment. Abel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

This wasn't a dream.

It was a nightmare.

"Oh, Ammon!" she said, face slightly scrunched in confusion before she walked over to him and giggled. "Since when were you taller than me?"

Who--what--she--

Abel was--this was--this made no sense.

He was home. He was home. But who was this? Why were some things the same and some things different? What was--

"Dad?"

Abel felt the blood drain out of his face.

Slowly, as if he were terrified to look, terrified to see, because he was, Abel glanced at the stairway and saw two faces poking around it.

He didn't need to see them to know. He knew that voice.

Link. And goddess above, Lyra was there too.

He... he didn't... they were...

"You're alive," he breathed.

XXX

Tilieth stared at the ceiling confusedly for a second before eralizing she had probably snored herself awake. She almost bust out laughing thinking about it, and then worried that maybe she had woken Abel (though she was sure he could sleep through another calamity). Turning to face him, ignoring the hard, uneven wooden surface under her that served as a mattress, she felt her cheer disappear, sucked out of her along with her breath.

There was another man in her bed. And he was distinctly not Abel.

Shrieking, Tilieth shoved him so hard he slammed against the wall of their little cottage, and she fell onto the floor. She scrambled for the nearest weapon, finding her bow, but couldn't find the arrows (they're under the bed oh no--). She glued herself to the wall, pointing at him. "Who the hell are you?!"

Where was her husband?! What was going on?! She hadn't even--she didn't even--there was no way anyone could get up to the plateau, right?! The entrance had been sealed in the fight!!

Before the man, who was looking at her with wide eyes and confusion, could get a word out, Tilieth bolted out the door. She had to make sure the Shrine was intact, she had to find Abel, she had to figure out what was going on!

GOSH I HAVE THE DUMBEST GRIN ON MY FACE RN DHSKSBSKSBSKAABKABAKA oh my gosh ABEL YOU POOR MAN NOOOOOO oh this poor man. And poor Ammon he’s gonna be so confused as well 😭😭😭 and Tillieth BDKSBSKSJS 😭😭😭I love this so much I’ve been wanting to write stuff of my own but honestly I am worn from Whumptober but YEAH DADS SWITCH SPOTS

[earlgreytea68]

Notes on the Andy Warhol Decision

Sometimes people ask me about big fair use decisions that come down, but nobody really asked me about this one, which made me wonder if everyone in fandom just collectively shrugged at it, which, I don't blame you, tbh.

I have to confess that I didn't read the decision when it came out because sometimes I just don't feel like it, but I have now read it and if anyone was curious about what it is, I figured I'd write up a little something.

Here's the deal: Lynn Goldsmith was a photographer, largely of icons of music, who took a photograph of Prince many years ago. Also many years ago, Vanity Fair wanted Andy Warhol to make an Andy Warhol print of Prince (really no other way to describe the print, it's just the Andy Warhol style). Andy Warhol wanted to start with a reference photo, so Vanity Fair contacted Goldsmith and licensed her photo of Prince for use. The terms of the license basically just said that Vanity Fair could only use the photo the one time.

Fast-forward to Prince dying and Vanity Fair runs ANOTHER Andy Warhol image of Prince based on the Goldsmith photo, because it turned out Andy Warhol made a bunch of prints based on the photo which Goldsmith didn't know about. Now the license didn't cover these other prints and uses, because by its terms it was very limited. So Goldsmith called up the Andy Warhol Foundation and was like, "Yo, the license didn't cover this, so you are infringing on my copyright in my photograph." (This is the effect of not being covered by a license.) And the Andy Warhol Foundation was basically like, "Nuh-uh," and they went to court and asked a court to say that they weren't infringing Goldsmith's copyright and Goldsmith is wrong SO THERE! (This is honestly basically what a declaratory judgment is ["You're wrong, SO THERE!"] and please use this definition if anyone ever asks you what a declaratory judgment is.)

Here is the photo at issue and the Andy Warhol print of it:

Okay, so I think you can see the issue in the case pretty clearly, right? Like, those two things look very like each other, I think everyone would agree.

Here's the problem with this case: I don't actually think it's really a fair use case and it annoys me that that's where we ended up. Because fair use is a DEFENSE to copyright infringement. What that means is that there has to be copyright infringement first. Copyright infringement means that the sued-upon work is substantially similar to the first work in something that is copyrightable (original to that creator). Fair use is only relevant once a court has decided you've created something substantially similar to something that someone else owns. Courts often just skip straight to fair use, though, which is a VERY ANNOYING HABIT because it muddies everything up, and the parties complicated it here in this case by only appealing one very narrow issue: Is the Andy Warhol print transformative? Which is one of the fair use factors.

Because that was the only issue before the Supreme Court, that's the only issue the Supreme Court decided (this is technically what the Supreme Court is supposed to do but like most things Supreme Court these days, one never knows what the Supreme Court might do). But it irritates me because I'm not sure this actually IS copyright infringement. I think it seems substantially similar, probably, but I'm not sure it's similar in anything that is COPYRIGHTABLE by Goldsmith, meaning anything that Goldsmith can own. By which I mean, maybe these two images are only similar because they both look like Prince, and nobody can own what Prince looks like (not even Prince). I think this is an interesting point for debate and I could see it coming out either way but we get zero discussion of this because it's not what the parties asked for analysis on. And that's annoying because there's a Kagan dissent in this case (Kagan disagreed with the majority opinion) that is basically all THIS DECISION WILL DESTROY ALL CREATIVITY, EVERYTHING WILL NOW BE COPYRIGHT INFRINGING, and I get where Kagan is coming from but that's only because this decision didn't actually get to decide copyright infringement. Like, it starts from this assumption that this is infringing unless fair use saves it, and then the majority doesn't let fair use save it, and so the dissent is like, THEREFORE EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE INFRINGING. But the analysis is in the wrong spot here! Anyway, I hope that makes sense, I'm a little in the weeds here.

The opinion of the Supreme Court was that the Andy Warhol print was not transformative, which is a big deal word in fair use law. Basically, if you are found to be transformative, you win your fair use case. And if you're not transformative, you don't always lose but you have a greater chance of losing. So a lot of the energy in a fair use case is around this transformativeness analysis (this is why AO3's parent org is called the Organization for Transformative Works).

What the Supreme Court basically says is that the first factor (which we have shortened to transformativeness) is "the purpose and character of the use." The Supreme Court says basically that there are two parts to this, as you can see: purpose and character. So it seems like Andy Warhol has changed up the original photograph and so maybe has a different message (art critics argued this vociferously) but the purpose of the Andy Warhol print in this context was the same as the purpose of the original photograph. In other words, this is not a case about this Andy Warhol print in a museum. This is a case about this Andy Warhol print being used by a magazine for the same purpose that the magazine would have licensed Goldsmith's original photo: to illustrate an article about Prince. This made all the difference to the Supreme Court.

A lot of the commentary about this case found this to be an outrageous conclusion for some reason. I'm not bothered by it, but I suspect that's because I come from fandom circles. To me, I am not confused by the idea that my fanfiction is transformative if non-commercial, but not transformative if its purpose shifts to be the same purpose as the original (to make money). I mean, I'm not entirely sure I agree that it would automatically be infringing if turned commercial, but I get why the different purpose makes a difference to my analysis of what's happening there. So I was a little bewildered by people who found it ridiculous to conclude that a use could be fair use for one purpose and not fair use for another purpose. I'm okay with that. I don't think it's destructive of fair use to say that, Idk. It's maybe a little destructive of commercial fair use, and that might grow to be problematic, but I don't think the opinion is attempting to be that broad. Although it could be broadly read. I just think the opinion is meant to say "don't forget that it's not just about the new message, it's also about the purpose that message is being used for, and those two things need to be balanced." At least, that's what I think it's saying. It's not just what the work is, but also how the work is being used.

One thing I have to say and that I have long thought is that copyright law and trademark law and many other types of law tie themselves into knots to protect Andy Warhol, and I feel like this is the first opinion I've read that...doesn't. But, look, this case would not be where it is today if the Andy Warhol print didn't so very obviously use the Goldsmith photo, and this case also would not be where it is today if the person using the photo hadn't been Andy Warhol. Like, I can't shake the idea that if any other average human had taken the Goldsmith photo, done that to it, and sold it to Vanity Fair, courts would have found this an easy infringement case, but because it was Andy Warhol it made courts uncomfortable to say that. The opinion that the Supreme Court affirmed (the Second Circuit opinion all of this) said basically that: We cannot have an Andy Warhol exception to copyright law. Andy Warhol could have used the photo for inspiration, for reference for what Prince looked like, to get ideas, and still come up with something that looked completely different (even if it still looked like Prince - there are a million photos of Prince that are all different even though they all look like Prince), and we wouldn't have a case here.

I just think about this case as compared to "Oh, the Places You'll Boldly Go," a case in which people took the Dr. Seuss book "Oh, the Places You'll Go" and remade it for Star Trek. They kept the basic message of the book (a problem for transformativeness analysis) but they changed all the artwork to be about Star Trek (although keeping the Dr. Seuss "style," as distinct as Andy Warhol's) and they also changed the words to be about Star Trek, while keeping the distinctive Dr. Seuss "style" there, too. You can have the book read to you here. Anyway, while agreeing that no one can own a particular "style," the appellate court in the case (the Ninth Circuit) was like, "This is not transformative, this is copyright infringement and not fair use." And I'm not saying that decision's wrong, but if something could be changed that much and not be considered to be fair use, to me it makes sense that the Andy Warhol print also wouldn't be fair use, Idk.

ANYWAY. These are my musings! Lots of people disagree about the outcome of this case and what it means! I think there wasn't a huge fan ripple reaction from it because I don't think it means much of anything in terms of fair use as applied to fandom. Again, I think it's a much bigger deal in the commercial fair use world, which frankly has always been a complicated mess. (Also it revives the parody/satire distinction, which is nonsensical, but no reason to get into that now lol.)

You can read the opinion for yourself, if you're interested, here.

[incorrect-pokemon-villain-quotes]

Volo: "Since as far back as the Crimson Mirelands, I've been doing everything humanly possible to rid Hisui of you and your pesky friends. But you have a most annoying habit of NOT DYING WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO!!!"

[nashidakyouko]

Girl Talk ~Resident Alien ~ Jay and D'arcy friendship

Also on Ao3.

Summary: Jay stumbles upon D'arcy kissing a woman and they become confidantes 2 years pre-canon. // Platonic Jay and D'arcy, D'asta as a major topic.// T // Word count: ~3000

-

It was early to be drunk for most people. No matter how frequently she drank, people still acted like it was shocking to see D'arcy wasted by 1 PM. Their pitying concern only annoyed her. She grimaced as she knocked back the rest of her flask. It was no one's business if she wanted to escape for a while, time of day be damned.

Before she even knew what was happening, a preachy Ben found her stumbling outside The 59 and promptly attempted to coax her inside—trying to ensure the town's image by removing the drunk from the streets. He kept muttering about how This is bad behavior and We don't want anyone to think Patience is a place where people get drunk all day and roam the streets. D'arcy rolled her eyes at his knit brow and twiddling hands. Of course he was more worried about the town's fragile little image than about his childhood friend's emotional state. He was a real buzzkill since he became the mayor.

Nonetheless, D'arcy allowed him to lead her back in The 59. Before he could ask if she was okay, D'arcy was already filling several shot glasses with whiskey and downing them one after the other. It wasn't long before Ben fled, not wanting to deal with a heavily drunk D'arcy.

After the 3rd shot, D'arcy ran a hand through her dyed-blonde hair and exhaled harshly. She was glad she didn't have to explain anything, but she was going to explode soon from the weight of her own silence. Since no one in town knew how she felt about Asta, though, there was nobody D'arcy could vent to.

Asta was on a getaway with Jimmy for a few days. D'arcy always drank herself stupid when those two went somewhere, unable to deal with thoughts of them together. This whole one-sided love thing was the fucking worst.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew D'arcy's attention. A woman D'arcy didn't know sat at the bar, all sultry with her plunging v-neck showing plenty of cleavage. The woman could be just good enough for a distraction, D'arcy supposed. She offered to pay for D'arcy's next drink and gave her a coy smile.

A few minutes later, the two of them were in the back alley making out. D'arcy wasn't usually so careless when she was with women. Patience was a small town, and when she was a kid it was obvious that being queer was frowned upon. Granted, it had been almost 20 years since then, and times had changed. She still typically hid her soirees with the fairer sex from the town's eyes, if mostly out of habit.

In her current state, however—moping and beyond wasted—she just didn't care if the whole damn town knew.

The following day, the same kid showed up at the bar just as D'arcy's shift started. The girl looked down at her bouncing feet, chewing her bottom lip with her arms firmly crossed. Dammit. If she was that anxious, D'arcy feared whatever was coming.

Or so she thought until she heard a small gasp and caught sight of a local kid—Jay, was it?—dashing away. Shit. The stranger D'arcy was with didn't notice or didn't care, slipping her tongue deeper into D'arcy's mouth and effectively chasing away thoughts of being caught by a random 15-year-old.

-

D'arcy put on a customer service smile and pretended nothing was amiss. “Hey there, kid! It's Jay, right?” The girl nodded, her eyes still lowered. “Okay, well, you're not getting any alcohol, but we do have soda. Just let me know if you need anything.” This was more courtesy than D'arcy usually showed at The 59. Hopefully, acting like the teen hadn't seen anything would do the trick. She did not want to deal with a kid she barely knew in any capacity, much less concerning her queerness.

When Jay didn't immediately respond, D'arcy took the opportunity to skedaddle... to the other end of the bar. It was her damn shift, so a full escape wasn't an option. She scanned the room, but no one else was in the bar except an older man napping at a table. She peered at him, trying to will him awake so she had an actual customer to keep her unavailable. No dice. Stupid midday lull.

“S-so, um... you like girls...?”

And there it was. Exactly the conversation D'arcy wanted to avoid. She looked around again for any acceptable distraction, finding none at a bar at 2:30 in the afternoon.

With a grimace, D'arcy confirmed through gritted teeth, “Sure do. Got a problem?” She turned to the kid with a glare that she regretted instantly. There was such unmasked vulnerability in Jay's dark brown eyes. Oddly familiar eyes. Kind of like Asta's.

D'arcy reflexively softened like she always did around Asta, even though her best friend wasn't there. “Shit, sorry... I thought you were gonna be a dick about it. Looks like you've got something on your mind?” As much as D'arcy didn't want to play senior queer with a possibly-questioning teenager, the girl's warm eyes had sufficiently weakened her resolve to send Jay packing.

The girl stuttered a laugh. She forced herself to meet D'arcy's eyes. “I think I have a crush on my friend. Who is a girl.”

Without thinking, D'arcy chuckled and commiserated. “You and me both, sister.” She frowned, then added. “I mean, my friend for me. I'm not creeping on kids—promise.” Probably shouldn't have said that, D'arcy feared. At least Jay didn't really know D'arcy or who her friends were.

The way Jay's eyes lit up at the admission of queerness once again nagged D'arcy with a sense of familiarity.

--

Over the next few months, D'arcy and Jay talked regularly—late nights spent drinking soda (though often D'arcy's was laced with alcohol) and staring at the stars while discussing their queer experiences. Jay had long since told D'arcy about the girl she liked, but it became increasingly obvious that D'arcy wasn't keen on sharing her own crush.

One day, Jay spied D'arcy out in town with a group of friends. Jay had met Asta once before, as well as Judy, the curly-haired peppy one scampering alongside D'arcy like an eager puppy. Jay's introduction to Judy that day had been shortened when D'arcy and Asta had to remind Judy that certain topics weren't cool to share with a high school kid.

“Whaaat? But we were doing all that at her age, what's the big deal? I mean, D'arce, when didn't at least one of us have our hands down some guy's—“ Judy's retort was cut off by Asta clamping a hand over her mouth and then dragging Judy away as if it were Asta's job to protect Jay... Weird.

Today, a few others were tagging along, but Jay didn't really know them. And none of them had noticed Jay half-lurking near the baseball field. It was the perfect opportunity for her to get a look at how D'arcy was with her adult friends. Maybe pare down the list of potential girlfriends for her good buddy.

As always, Jay noted how D'arcy never strayed far from Asta. In fact, more often than not, the two of them were touching in some way—holding hands, hugging, arms over each other's shoulders, even sharing kisses on the cheek. Obviously, that was the relationship to watch.

Even with all that physical contact, though, Jay wasn't 100% sure. After all, D'arcy was very physical in general, and it was clear she cared deeply for all of her friends. She acted like Judy was a nuisance, but Jay knew that the second Judy needed someone, D'arcy would be there. Intense loyalty was the very thing that defined D'arcy.

Just as Jay started considering who else D'arcy might like, she saw it.

Asta curling in on herself, cackling at one of D'arcy's quips. And D'arcy watching her joy with the softest, warmest expression Jay had ever seen. It didn't last long, melting into D'arcy's own laughter. But Jay had seen it, and that was all she needed to know.

What surprised Jay more was when Asta opened her eyes and looked at D'arcy the exact same way. Like D'arcy was her sun. Like nothing else mattered as long as Asta could hear D'arcy laugh.

“There's my main underage squeeze!” D'arcy exclaimed when Jay entered the bar.

It certainly seemed to Jay like D'arcy's love wasn't as unrequited as she thought.

-

“You sound like a deviant when you say things like that.” Jay smirked as she set her bag down next to her. The kid showed up before nightfall pretty often. There was an advantage to missing the crowds.

“Whatever, no one's around! Exactly why you come at this time, right? So, what's up, kid?” D'arcy's smile was bright. She found she actually enjoyed the teen's company—far more than she expected. Before Jay could order, D'arcy slid a custom limeade soda in front of her with a grin.

“I just wanted to ask... who's the friend you have a thing for? I think I know, but...” Jay took a long sip of her soda.

D'arcy quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean you know? You've barely met any of my friends—just Asta and Judy. And Judy was being gross... and Asta was being... weird.”

“Okay, yeah, but I've seen you around town with people, and it's pretty obvious, isn't it?” Jay already sported a shit-eating grin.

“Is it?” It damn well better not be.

“Oh, come on! It totally is Asta.” D'arcy burned red, leaving little room for doubt. Jay victoriously pumped her fist. “Called it! You're just different with her. Honestly, you're way nicer to her than you are to anyone else.” The kid's smug-as-fuck smirk added insult to injury.

D'arcy wanted to sink into a hole. “Me being nice to my best friend is that weird? I knew I could be an asshole, but that's unfair.”

“It isn't just that. It's like... I've seen the way you look at her. Like she's perfect. And you talk about her all the time. I mean, are you even trying to keep it on the DL?”

“I thought I was!” D'arcy threw up her arms. “She's married! The guy is a douche-bucket, but she's not exactly leaving him. I think she should, but I've pretty much given up on that.”

“I've seen him. Jimmy, right? He's a total dong. She'll wake up and hopefully smell the homo-eroticism eventually.”

“Ha! I wish. Even if she left him, she wouldn't want to be with me.” D'arcy vigorously cleaned glasses to avoid Jay's eyes.

“Why do you say that?” Jay cocked her head in confusion.

“Why would she pick the town drunk? She's a freaking nurse, and I bar-tend.” There was no doubt in D'arcy's mind that she wasn't worthy.

Jay scoffed. “Whatever, you're just scared. I'm rooting for you whether you like it or not.”

“... Thanks, Jay.” D'arcy smiled softly. It was good that someone finally knew. At least she wasn't alone anymore.

–

For two years, D'arcy and Jay shared everything about their relationships. The feelings D'arcy had for Asta never faltered, and Jay was always disappointed when D'arcy dated other people—even if the teen understood that Asta was unavailable. No matter who D'arcy was with, it was painfully obvious that she treasured Asta so much more.

“So, I'm working at the clinic now,” Jay said one afternoon.

D'arcy looked at her sharply. “Are you serious? How did that happen?”

“You know how I've been looking for a job for that work credit thing for school? I barely got a word out in an interview before Asta hired me,” Jay shrugged. “I guess they must be short-handed or something, because she seemed kinda desperate. Works for me, though. Now I've got a reason to talk to her, which means I can trash Jimmy. Maybe push her towards you a little.”

D'arcy fidgeted behind the bar-counter. “Y-you shouldn't do that. I mean, it'd be weird, right? Suddenly having some kid she barely knows commenting on her love life...”

“Isn't that exactly how we became friends?”

“Well... yeah... but...” D'arcy sighed. “I just don't know if it's such a good idea, Jay.”

“Too bad. If it bugs you that much, I'll only trash Jimmy when she brings him up... or when he hits her again. I won't even mention you. I still think it could help a little.” Jay stuck out her tongue, grabbing her things and leaving for the day.

Sometimes, even little gestures like the exact way Jay poked out her tongue struck some chord in D'arcy's mind. After all this time, she still couldn't quite place why in some moments Jay reminded her of her best friend. All she knew was that the perceived similarity made D'arcy feel all the more protective of, and endeared to, the 17-year-old.

–

A handful of months later, D'arcy found Jay brooding during the teen's shift at Dan's diner. She'd never explained her sudden job change to D'arcy. Now, a frown deep enough to age Jay ten years darkened her face. D'arcy couldn't recall ever seeing Jay so morose. She sauntered over to the diner bar and sat down, cocking her head to the side and waiting for Jay to speak.

Those brown eyes that always tugged at D'arcy's heart were full of hurt and rage.

After a long moment, Jay expelled a harsh breath and managed to say “Asta's my mother.”

D'arcy wasn't sure what the joke was, but surely Jay was kidding. “Ha! And Sheriff Mike's my father.”

The serious look on Jay's face remained. Oh shit, she wasn't kidding. D'arcy sobered. “Holy shit. You're the baby.”

“I'm not surprised she didn't tell you. She's been keeping it a secret.”

The calculations going through D'arcy's mind were visible on her face. “Yeah... Yeah, she has...” Could this be what Asta had been keeping from her recently?

“I don't know what to do. She's my mother, and I don't even know how to act in front of her... Not to mention my...” Jay's face screwed up in disgust as she spat out “father.”

D'arcy rolled her eyes, understanding all too well. “Oh, right. Jimmy.”

“It's so messed up. What am I supposed to say to someone like that? I mean, I'm gonna see him. I can't talk to Asta. I can't talk to my parents. Maybe I shouldn't even talk to you,” Jay's tone escalated with every word, anger bubbling over. Then she quieted as she looked imploringly at D'arcy. “But I feel like I am losing my mind and you've always listened before...”

“Hey, hey!” D'arcy took both of Jay's hands and looked her squarely in the eyes. “You know you can totally talk to me. Always. This is a little different than our usual, but you know I've got you, okay?”

Jay almost cracked a smile, but her mind was still reeling too much and she began another spiral. “I can't do this alone. I can't—“

D'arcy tugged Jay's hands to cut her off. “You are not alone. I can help you. A bit. Can't do magic or anything, but I have a way to let Jimmy know how you feel, at least.”

That finally did earn a little smile from the overwhelmed Jay. D'arcy tacked on, “Hey, can you get free onion rings? It's part of the plan.” Her teasing grin was infectious, and for the first time all day, Jay laughed.

“Yeah, sure... Can we do this plan of yours later, though? I think I need to keep talking right now.” Jay came over from behind the counter, sitting next to D'arcy.

“You know it, kid. I'll be right here.” On seeing the flicker of a twinkle in Jay's eyes, a long-standing mystery was solved. D'arcy exclaimed, “Holy fuck, that's why your eyes look just like Asta's! I should've figured it out ages ago! Jesus, you're the right age and you always remind me of her. How did I miss it?” It had been so obvious, but what wasn't obvious when you looked at it in retrospect? Maybe D'arcy had been so sure she'd never meet Asta's kid that she automatically ignored the possibility. Either that, or D'arcy was a special kind of idiot.

“Everyone missed it. Including me, and I've been working with her, like, every day for months. About that—it's pretty sketchy how she hired me at the clinic. How weird is it that she never said anything? I'm so pissed and confused and I don't know what to do about any of it.” Jay glowered and rested her forehead on the counter.

Nearby, Dan took note with a frown. He knew Jay needed to talk to someone uninvolved, so he simply pushed a chocolate milkshake towards Jay and made himself scarce. It would be okay, eventually. And for now, the shake might help ease the anger. At least a little bit.

For the next half hour, D'arcy listened to Jay working through her feelings, only commenting enough to assure Jay she was paying attention. Eventually, Jay ran out of steam, deflating in her seat. She leaned over and rested her head on D'arcy's shoulder. Immediately, D'arcy wrapped an arm around her good friend. It was all so much, and it wouldn't be made okay right away. All she could do was provide support. She was going to need to talk to Asta soon.

With the initial shock of Jay's revelation settling down, another, more embarrassing thought occurred to D'arcy. Before she could help herself, she blurted:

“Oh, shit. I've been talking to you about your birth mom for the past two years. That's...”

Mortifying. Inappropriate, maybe. Definitively weird. By some measures, even gross.

Jay did a spit-take with her milkshake, eyes wide. “Oh, God. Yeah, that's...”

Awkward. That was the best, most succinct word for it.

A damning silence suffocated them.

Eventually, blessedly, Jay spoke.

Once she heard the words, however, D'arcy wondered if Jay should have just kept to the harsh quiet.

“... Y'know, I still want you two to end up together, Step-Mom.”

Mouth gaping wide, D'arcy could think of no other action but to quickly flee while her brain short-circuited.

--

I'm adopted, and I'd NEVER call my birth mother “my mother.” But Jay did *sigh*

A/N:

I altered the scene where Jay tells D'arcy about Asta, because being friends for 2 years is going change that conversation to an extent. I kept as much of the original dialogue as I found fitting.

Oh and keep in mind I did not “make” Jay queer. She had boyfriends in s1, but a girlfriend in s3.

Last thing, I went with D'arcy's blonde hair with the blue tips for the whole fic, rather than bouncing around.

Likes/comments/reblogs are love! Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: RA isn't mine

[waltwhitmansbeard]

“Liam and Laura knew what they were doing and chose violence anyway.”

That they did. So… from now on, I will say “Vex’ahlia” instead of Vex lol

That said, same prompt as before?

19. opening up about their own struggles when they see the other's problems aight let's run this back. s2 tlovm again.

When they make camp, Vex is ready to pass the fuck out. She's still exhausted from the whole dying debacle, and fighting off those flying fire demon things in Pyrah didn't help the situation. All she wants to do now is huddle up near the crackling campfire and sleep until Grog's snoring wakes her in approximately three hours.

As she spreads out her bedroll and shoves the last of her gathered berries into her mouth, she sees movement at the entrance to the cave they've claimed for the night. Her hand flies to her bow out of habit, but even in this low, flickering light, she recognizes those antlers. She sets the bow down and frowns. Where is Keyleth going at this hour?

The others are busy chatting or getting ready for sleep or, in her brother's case, struggling with the Vestige that he can't seem to get off (another problem for another day), so Vex hauls herself up from the craggy floor and follows after Keyleth. She finds her sitting with her knees pulled to her chest just outside the cave, her circlet appearing gray in the silvery light of the moon. "It's freezing out here," Vex says, and Keyleth jumps, startled. "Don't you want to come inside?"

Keyleth shakes her head, resting her chin atop her knees again. "Not really in the mood to sleep."

Vex settles onto the hard ground beside her. "You know, it was pretty fucking cool how you turned into that giant fire beast. Not sure what that was all about, but it'll be useful all the same."

"Useful." Keyleth says the word with scorn, and Vex doesn't think she's ever heard such derision in her voice. "How many people in Pyrah had to die until I was finally useful enough to stop the slaughter?"

Oh. "Keyleth, you know what happened there wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not. But if I had been on focused on my Aramenté, on the path that I was supposed to be following, I could have been there earlier. I could have stopped it."

Vex lays a hand on her shoulder, which trembles beneath her palm. "You don't know that." Vex worries her lip between her teeth. "You know I studied dragons?" Keyleth nods. "My studies left me with an...ability, I guess you'd call it. A new sense, in a way. I know when dragons are near."

"Yeah, I remember, with Brimscythe."

"Well, I felt them approach, in Emon." Keyleth doesn't ask who she's referring to. "It felt like my head was exploding. Four dragons, all descending at once. The pain was so debilitating, I could barely tell Vax what was going on." She shrugs. "Maybe if I had, we would have been able to warn more people. Maybe if I had, Sovereign Uriel would still be alive."

Keyleth twists her head to frown at her. "Vex, we had seconds to figure out what was going on in Emon. You barely had any more warning than the bells gave us. There was nothing you could have done differently or better to save people."

"Exactly." Keyleth's eyes flick up in annoyance as she realizes the trap she's walked right into. "Keyleth, you got to Pyrah when you did. Before the rest of us, don't forget. You saved the people you could save. You did what you could. That's what we do. That's all we can do. Our best."

"It doesn't feel like the best," she says quietly. She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It feels like I failed."

"That's because you're a good person. It's kind of annoying, actually. You know you're the best of us, right?" Keyleth's eyebrows furrow. "You and Pike, I'd say. The ones who make sure that we're always doing the right thing, even when we're scared, even when we don't want to. I mean, fuck, the way you took off when my brother tried to ignore the danger in Pyrah? That's not the action of someone who failed, Keyleth."

And finally, Vex sees the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Vex shoves off of then ground and extends a hand out to Keyleth. "Come on. Warmth and food, and you'll feel fine again."

Keyleth lets Vex pull her to her feet, and then, to Vex's surprise, she throws her arms around her. "Thanks, Vex," she murmurs. "You're a good friend."

And wow. Yeah. They're friends. Who would've fucking guessed? She hugs Keyleth back. "We're in this together, remember? Gotta have each other's backs if we're not gonna be devoured by a league of murderous dragons."

Keyleth chuckles, and then they go back inside the cave, where the rest of their friends talk and laugh and sleep.

[greypetrel]

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

for all of them (or however many you want to do) :3

Hey there! :D

Thanks for asking, these has been fun! Adding Pavyn because I give him too little love.

Tis the prompt list!

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

Alyra: She's very judgemental. Oh, she will help you with the poor outcomes of your elucubrations! But you'll know she told you so. Also, she'll go cleaning after you because you're not cleaning that right.

Raina: She can't stand still for more than two minutes. Her leg will start to bounce immediately. Either she's knitting, or she's moving. Also, for her the "30 seconds rule" is really a "5 minutes rule". And she will eat on the bed.

Garrett: He doesn't like to stay inside the house for long. Even in weekends, he'll be awake with the sun insisting to go on this or that endeavour. Farmer's markets or long hikes, most likely. He will walk inside the house with muddy boots.

Aisling: She will mother you. She has a knack for making always the ONE personal question you really don't want to answer to. Will tend to stick around you too much, do stuff together, wear your clothes, touch you... Be too open about poop. She's annoying.

Radha: She doesn't talk much. She'll express herself with actions and will interpret gestures and tiny expressions and suppose you'll do the same. Also, she's a little maniacal with her books, you can borrow them, but treat them like SHE wants.

Pavyn: He's a fucking primadonna. He a talented healer and he will prove you wrong if you say anything about herbs and healing. Also, he's grudgy, and he won't be the first to talk about an issue. He's reasonable when you do, but OH MAN he won't start. Will act like he's dying at the first line of fever.

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

Alyra: A just politician that left her country better than she found it for all, not just for the nobles. She would hate being remembered just as the Hero of Ferelden. She'd rather be "The one that annoyed everyone so much that the Alienage got a decent sewage system" than just another person who slayed a dragon.

Raina: Why should you remember her? She would ask you to please don't. If you really must, because she loath fame, please remember her as just another normal person who stood up for her ideals.

Garrett: The one guy that grew the biggest pumpkin in South Reach, obviously. And who could turn into a dragon.

Aisling: A person who tried her best and did eventually something good. A good sister/wife/mother/friend.

Radha: Someone who did her best and kept her family safe. Possibly, one who helped restoring some bits and pieces of Elven history.

Pavyn: A good, beloved Keeper, that didn't struggle in filling his mother's shoes and stood up to expectations.

[the-firebird69]

There are several things happening today because of last night's events. The entire world has an up in arms against Jason's clan. Including us and we are at them they're deteriorating very quickly they won't have any people left the estimate by the end of the day at this rate it's very fast it's almost as of people know where they are in order to get rid of them. Annoying people and they have habits that are very illegal and they commit crimes every few minutes and bunches are almost unstoppable and you won't be there if they fell on you so we're exterminating them and a lot of them and making sure that they don't ever come back because they're heinously stupid. And when they say I'll get right back to you it means to take it to come back and try and do stuff they're saying that to our son at work as a threat and they're trying things all over Earth all the time it was a constant battle and now they're almost dead I was thinking everyone for your help, was they annoying or what. Did Frank Castle hardcastle say very. And our son says it was ridiculous I couldn't think it all, which is also the effects and Hera had a hard time because they work people emotionally constantly and was very pissed off and really it will woke Zeus out of a coma, and at O'Connor because the fools wanted to blame him for what they're doing and so they ended up training and it took to it and they got their asses handed to them by him and yes in Saudi Arabia he polished them off they have no clue I don't know what his kids are what they look like when they are we told them it's right up there that base they keep firing at. As we said the entire race is going meaning that all the more luck are dying but his clan is particular clan is dying his clones too. Tons and tons of them admit to no wrong doing as they're dying some say we had it in your face the whole time. And then we raped the boy millions of times, they heard this I didn't even notice thier dicks is so small, it's not true but the people are laughing at them they said no know it's metaphorically, and they laugh louder. And then say what they did to them then they went hunting the rest of the city and exterminated them and that was New York and they're gone these people are nasty little s**** I heinous. And when they can exterminate the other ones certain hopping up and down. And Brad is making stupid noises saying really it's your turn and since it's so what right now it's funny. Don't die like ridiculous people. They're disappearing everywhere and there are several more cities in countries and areas that are absent from one such place is New York City that is a huge City for them to disappear from and it's kind of their atmosphere and it's quite a tricky feet to eliminate them and nobody else but they saw the ship above and couldn't resist and a lot of fighting happened after with other groups that that protested and it's still going with morlock. The state is not yet cleared of them but the city

We have several other things happening one of them is we're going to attack that stupid son secret resort and all the people involved and in a serious way today you keep saying stupid s*** and doing stupid s*** on the bridge and I don't want to have it it's too dangerous out there and this dumb m*********** has to shut up he has to shut up and stay at home or get hit and a different home too not when it's illegal for him to be in I'm so tired of everybody getting upset and not doing anything about it and landing it on our son I'm going to hit you hard and fast Trump and Dan you're going to regret getting up in the morning today. There's some very fast machines and personnel and other in a whole bunch of people that hate you. Right now we're looking it up on the web and they say the issue a whole bunch of warrants for your arrest you idiots said that project I'm not even supposed to be there so they're going over who's down there and they're going to shut it down over and over and over and we're going to assist and we need you out and they need your stuff furthermore they condemned the building and you're not supposed to be there at all you can see the notices posted. If you tamper with them you go straight to jail there's a huge number of people running around being massive assholes to our son and you're stuck there on the news being huge pricks no sunset is going to go on for a little while more and we want to take care of you while you're doing it and that's what we're doing

Jason and Trump and all their clans and clones really their particular race are dying in droves huge numbers of people are seeking them out all over the Earth and they're saying it this kid has kids that can kick anyone's ass anytime anyplace anywhere and we can't get clearance to use any kind of weapons because these f*****. We can't get near anybody to kidnap them because he was f***** and there's a big list it's all true so they're going around trying to get rid of you and someone says try and use it so later we'll have it and they'll be excused to do that to get there with and that's what the whole thing is for anyways so it kind of made them mad because they said we see it now and they're yelling at them saying you have no right cuz it's your stupid plan miss you back it's a stupid plan we have a right so anyways there's a ton of you going and you going pretty good and we're going to make it easier and faster for you to leave.

Right now Trump has gathered probably a third of the diamonds so just harvested into his areas and that's a lot they're fighting over it below and some others have in their areas and Trump is trying to steal it and they're getting creamed and they're getting creamed in their areas a lot of times by Jason is a huge war between the two and they hate each other and it started a while ago before this and it was it's actually a age-old fight and they don't like each other more later

Thor Freya

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

AU where Danny never becomes Phantom and you would think that would mean Vlad would succeed in his plans of acquiring Maddie as his wife, but you would be wrong. Unfortunately for Vlad, all his attempts to kill Jack or split apart their marriage all fail, no matter how ridiculous it gets. Jack has an annoying habit of just not dying, and Vlad's attempts to break apart the family just causes them to grow closer. Ironically his meddling just fixes the issues the family have.

love it, i don't think i published it yet, but one of the asks i'm answering has jazz inheriting jacks ability to be obliviously unkillable. it's one of those things where if you're nice enough you're just lucky.

on the other hand i am going to put out another version of this where because jack is ectocontaminated as heck (we see him consume ectoplasm), he has minor ghost powers and is absolutely oblivious to them. to an absurd degree. he's not as ghost as danny and vlad obviously. but it's enough to set off some of his sensors if he doesn't calibrate for that. but the thing is, he just assumes it's ambient ectoplasm in the air. not him. oh some power activated and he witnesses something paranormal. IT"S ANOTHER GHOST MESSING WITH HIM!!! HE NEEDS TO CAPTURE IT! like jack was haunting himself before they even opened the portal.

so he could also have a version of ghost sense and instinctually dodges things coming at him because he feels it. but he still doesn't notice what's actually happening. it's all instinct. and as always i stand by that jacks ghost obsession is ghosts. dead or alive that's all he cares about.

but yeah, vlad accidently fixing the families relationship in his many attempts to kill jack is a vibe. i can honestly seeing it becoming a thing where just everyone else in the family notice the murder attempts and close ranks. like we know maddie notices vlads an asshole after mother's instinct. danny's instinct about people can be pretty hit or miss. but i could see danny getting into ghost fighting by sheer necessity. like if danny didn't become a halfa, i'm assuming the fenton portal never started. maybe before bitter reunions the fenton's haven't quite bounced back yet, so danny attempts to show an interest in ghosts to help them feel better, only for real ghost to start showing up to attack jack. danny goes from skeptical to protective real quick. jazz takes much longer, especially because she's attempting to get her parents to take up normal interests. she doesn't like danny trying to bring them back into ghost hunting or messing around in the lab with their old inventions.

then of course plasmius attacks jack in full ghost form during bitter reunions. and boom the fenton parents are back in old form because that's the proof they needed that ghosts are real. jazz is still reluctant but things are going to steadily escalate from there. there's still going to be some time until they put together that vlad and plasmius are the same person. vlad might even offer to fund the fenton's to endear himself to maddie, and offer danny ghost tech the way he offered it to val, only in this case he's asking danny to put a good word in with maddie. danny is uncomfortable. even if they don't know he's a halfa, everyone at least knows that vlad is shady af. well except jack.

especially when ghost attacks start attacking more once he moves to town, becuase he brings his own portal with him, meaning the chaos starts in force. danny is kept busy fighting ghosts, and his parents are doing their own seprately.

i suppose the big turning point can be vlad letting the ghost king out when her robbed him. this would definately be when danny stops trusting him. especially because vlad is pushing vlad to be the one to fight pariah dark. danny still steals the suit and fight pariah. as a human. he definately almost dies and this time it's not something he can keep a secret. but of course the fenton's get even closer after wards. they've always cared about their kids and putting danny at risk was out of the question. the fact that danny's also been hunting on his own and that vlad was encouraging it. even jack isn't happy about that. he'll teach danny to hunt ghosts but he doesn't want danny going out on his own or being reckless about it. especially because it's effecting his grades. is danny basically the red huntress in this au? yes. does val still end up a ghost hunter? yes, but latter in the series. once she starts fighting ghosts i also feel like she's more likely to figure out that danny's been hunting ghosts because he's basically showing the same sleep patterns and issues she has now. plus he wasn't involved in cujo wrecking her dad's work (he was grounded from ghost hunting at the time). so they can team up. no animosity between them. sam and tucker have also been helping because they're ride or dies, though i imagine they were considerably more skeptical in the begining before ghosts attacks got really common.

danny also gradually figuring out ghosts aren't all bad and ending up talking to his parents about it. they take time to beleive him, but also trust him more in this world.

just family ghost hunter au - Hestia

[pies-writes-and-more]

Hii- if you're taking any request, could I get one where reader, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima are friends but the reader constantly drops hints that she likes Yams but he misinterprets them as for Tsukki? 👉🏻👈🏻 dkgjsjfje no need to rush yourself tho oki? You can do it in your own time ❤️ hope you have a wonderful day/night! ✨

Word Count: 2,036

Warnings: probably some swearing, a bit of angst but there’s a happy ending promise! 

Pairing: Yamaguchi Tadashi x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for the request! I dunno if I fully got the idea you wanted haha but here you go! (Originally thought @thisnoodlewritesao3 gave in this request but apparently she didn’t!!!! So whoever sent this in thank you so much!!!!). Enjoy lovelies!

(not my gif, creds to the original creator :))

Today was the day. Yamaguchi had never been so confident with one of his decisions before. But this one. This one he was sure of.

He tucked the broken pieces of his heart into some deep part of him as he stared at himself in the mirror. He stared at himself in the mirror for a second before nodding to himself. Today was the day, he whispered to himself for what felt like the millionth time. Today was the day he would let go.

He knew it was going to hurt, he knew that his heart was already falling apart but it didn’t matter. How can you be broken hearted over losing someone when they weren’t yours in the first place?

The day started like any other school day, Yamaguchi meeting up with you and Tsukishima on the corner of the street where all your paths met. Like usual, you and Tsukishima were already there since you both lived closer than Yamaguchi did.

“Hi Yams!” You beamed up at him and he tried his best to give a genuine smile back. Why did this smile look so much different than the one you gave Tsukki?

“You took longer than usual,” Tsukishima commented, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.

Yamaguchi had hoped he wouldn’t noticed, but it wasn’t really all that surprising that he did, “Just got up late,” he said with a smile, trying to be convincing.

Tsukishima watched him for a moment, raising an eyebrow as if to ask are you sure you’re okay? Yamaguchi just gave a small nod and then turned to you as you talked about the project that was due today.

He wanted to keep walking with you, listening to you go on about your day, about the dog you saw on your way over, about your family and anything else that made you smile. But he kept slowing down his pace, watching from behind what it would look like, you and Tsukki walking together. Why did you two look so much better than he could ever dream?

“Yams?” Your voice drew him from his thoughts, him offering his typical I’m okay smile. “You seem really out of it today, are you feeling sick?” You asked, pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature.

He wanted to press against your hand just a little longer, the feeling of your skin on his always made his heart flutter. But instead, he just laughed and shook his head, “I’m alright. I guess I’m still a little asleep!”

You seemed to buy it and nod, linking your arm with his, “Come on then, don’t slow down on me. If you do, I have to walk with Tsukishima and I don’t think he likes my company,” you laugh.

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes and pulled his headphones on like he normally did in the mornings when the three of you walked together. Yamaguchi always wondered if he did this so he could have more privacy to talk to you. Tsukishima had known right away that Yamaguchi’s heart only beat for you. But what else did he know?

Did he know that Yamaguchi would always step back for him? Did he know that you just seemed so much happier with him, the one who was so much cooler? So much taller? So much smarter? That you would be better off with him?

But you just talked on, trying to get Yams back into how he was normally, asking about his weekend and morning. By the time you all got to school, Tsukishima said something about needing to go find the third years and talk to them about something. It was a lie and Yamaguchi was sure of that. 

Tsukishima had been trying to tell him lately to stop being so scared and just tell you how he felt. He even insisted that you had been trying to drop little hints all the time but Yamaguchi was sure that Tsukishima was just exaggerating (though, he wasn’t really the exaggerating kind). But how had Tsukishima not noticed how much time you spent by his side? How had he not realized that you always seemed to try and get his attention, always tried to get him talking?

You had to be in love with Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi was sure of that. Because who would ever go for him, an emotional freckled loser, when Tsukki was around?

“Yams, do you think confessing ruins a lot of friendships?” You asked softly as the two of you walked slowly through the almost empty courtyard, not a lot of students on campus yet.

His eyes locked onto yours for a moment, the surprise in them flickering away as he quickly looked away, “What do you mean?”

“I mean... it’s so easy for friends to fall in love isn’t it? You know everything about a person, see everything they are, the good and the bad, and... you just can’t help it.” There was such a lightness to your voice. Yamaguchi’s heart was pounding against his chest, was this the moment you’d tell him? That you were in love with his best friend? What was he even supposed to say?

“I... suppose,” he mumbled quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Are you in love?”

“I’ve never been in love before,” you admitted shyly, smiling up at his direction but still noting that he was refusing to look at you. “But I think I might be.”

Somewhere, Yamaguchi wanted to tell her that Tsukki would never be interested. Even if Yamaguchi wasn’t in love with you, Tsukki didn’t really seem all that interested in relationships right now. So wouldn’t it be better for you to not bother getting her heart broken? Because his was already breaking and it was hurting like hell - shouldn’t he try to save you from that. He wanted to tell you to save yourself, but instead he heard himself say, “You should tell him then...”

He closed his eyes, ready for you to tell him with an excited tone that you were going to find Tsukki. Tell him how you felt. He saw a flash of a lifetime in his head, what you would look like on your first date with Tsukki holding your hand, how your smile would meet Tsukki’s eyes more than Yamaguchi’s, how you would offer your heart to Tsukki, and not Yamaguchi-

“I’m trying to, but he’s refusing to look at me,” you said suddenly, a laugh in your voice. What was that in your laugh? Was that... nervousness?

Yamaguchi’s eyes popped open, looking down at you with surprise. “W-What?”

“If you’d just pay attention to me, this confession would’ve been over a while ago,” you laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head. Now that he was looking at you, your eyes didn’t want to meet his.

“Confession?” Yamaguchi’s voice cracked and his ears were burning with embarrassment now.

You bit down on your lip, a nervous habit of yours, and pulled out a cute little teddy bear plush from your backpack, “I got this at the arcade we went to a few days ago. And that day, when it was just you and me, I realized that you’re the only one I want to be with all the time. You’re always there for me and after meeting you, every one of those songs I listen to just... makes sense.”

Yamaguchi was dreaming wasn’t he? He was going to wake up in a few seconds and be sorely disappointed. He was going to punch his pillow and shed a few tears because this was all just a dream right?

“I know we’ve been friends for like forever, and that volleyball takes up a lot of your time lately. But if... I dunno if maybe you feel the same way, maybe we could go on a date sometime? There’s this cute cafe I heard about nearby and they have these milkshakes that I think we would like-” you rambled nervously, noting his open-mouth expression and lack of response.

There was one thing that Yamaguchi was never able to do during dreams. One thing he always wanted to do but always woke up before. He had to wake up before he fell too far in this dream, he had to wake up before he wasn’t able to and this dream took over his whole mind. Before he could think through it rationally, Yamaguchi took your face in his hands and pressed a quick peck to your lips.

His lips felt like heaven against yours, your eyes widening as he stood there, holding your hands like he was even surprised he had been able to do that.

“Y-Yams?” You squeaked, unsure that that had really just happened.

“That doesn’t normally happen,” he murmured to himself, staring down at you like you were going to disappear in a few seconds.

“W-When?” You whispered back, a little confused.

“When I dream about this,” Yamaguchi’s whole face was going red now. His eyes were widening and his fingers were starting to shake against your cheeks. He pulled away from you, clasping a hand against his mouth realizing what he had just done. “I-I’m not dreaming.”

“N-Nope,” you can’t help but laugh, holding a hand over your lips. “You dream about me?”

“Y-Yea. No. I mean. Not like... weird things or anything I just-” Yamaguchi rambled, shaking his hands in front of him nervously. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I thought, I just normally don’t-”

“You know, when I told Y/N to confess to you today, I didn’t think you’d react like that,” Tsukishima laughed from across the courtyard, grinning bigger than Yamaguchi had ever seen before.

“Y-You knew?”

“Y/N’s been annoying me all week about it,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “Something about wanting to know if feelings were reciprocated or something. As if you two haven’t been drooling over each other ever since meeting.” He shrugged like this was a normal thing, like seeing his two friends confess and kiss was just a typical Monday morning thing.

Yamaguchi’s chest was feeling so tight, like his heart had stopped working from shock. Was this a heart attack? Is this what all those people were always warning you about? Was he dying?

“Oi, Tadashi, you haven’t given her an answer yet,” Tsukishima scoffed, shaking his head. “Accept her confession, ask her out on a date, and then let’s get to class. People are going to start staring soon.”

Yamaguchi spluttered out a, “I really like you, Y/N!”, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and surprise, wishing he could rewind and go back. He took the teddy bear that was still in your hands, smiling a little at the cute bow around its neck and the smile on its face that was looking back at him.

You just giggled and rocked on your feet nervously, “Well I’d hope so. You don’t go around kissing girls you don’t like do you?”

“O-Of course not!” He shook his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “That cafe date sounds really nice.”

The two of you just stood there for a moment, shyly avoiding each other’s eyes until Tsukishima sighed while walking over, and pushed Yamaguchi over to you, “Alright, let’s go then.” He said, as if fed up with you both but Yamaguchi swore he saw a smile on the salty boy’s face.

“I really like you too,” you whisper to Yamaguchi later, taking his hand in yours and letting your fingers tangle together.

Later, Yamaguchi would tell you he honestly thought you were into Tsukishima and would laugh when your nose scrunched up, “Oh God no!” You smirked, shaking your head. “I was trying to make sure he liked me. I figured you wouldn’t go out with a girl that Tsukishima wouldn’t at least tolerate.”

Yamaguchi laughed and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He held your face in his hands again, just admiring your face and the way you smiled at him. This smile seemed to be reserved just for him and he wanted to look at it forever.

That was the day that Yamaguchi promised himself he would never let you go. You were his now, and he didn’t ever want to lose you.

Haikyuu Masterlist

Haikyuu Taglist: (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@scphiredrafts @aurumk @devilkittymusic @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @lucyheartfilias-wife @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop

[a-muffin-full-of-poetry]

Hi! Can I request 707 reacting to reader fainting lots? (Bonus if reader has medicine and a cane to help but doesn't use them since they're embarrassed!)

Hello, you absolutely can. First request so I really hope you enjoy it and I did it justice. The research was half the writing time and I couldn’t find much on a disorder that worked to the request particularly well. So, do not take this as medical advice. Please see a doctor if you think you have any problems.

Summary: you faint, rather unexpectedly. luckily, 707 and his feral brother are there for you.

Warnings: swearing and i'm not a medical professional, please seek a doctor if you faint frequently.

Thinking back, you probably should've mentioned it to him but you had an annoying habit of saying absolutely nothing when it came to your health. You could be dying and, if someone asked, you would just say it was a little pain.

However, if Saeyoung could be called anything, it was attentive. He seemed to know something was wrong when he saw you that morning that even Saeran was able to pick up on him being tense.

“Now, what’s wrong?” he sighed, watching his brother.

Saeyoung said nothing but continued to watch as you pottered about the kitchen. You seemed really gaunt.

"Seriously, what is it? You're making that fucking face again," he said again, rolling his eyes when his brother said nothing. He spared a glance your way but went back to eating his pancakes. They were good, your speciality he would argue.

He stopped after that, but Saeyoung didn't. It was a once you had sat down, still with no colour to your face, that he made his move. "MC?"

"Hm?"

You seemed to sway in your seat but managed to bring your eyes up to meet his. It was your way of asking him to continue but it seemed half-hearted, like you really didn’t want him to. But you were fresh out of luck as he pressed further.

“Are you alright?” You picked up your spoon and simply sighed. It was coming, you knew it was but you had hoped it had gone away. The medicine you were supposed to take had been hidden away almost as soon as you had moved in with Saeyoung. When Saeran came, there was no way you could keep up the pretence and you were not about to embarrass yourself by telling them what it was for or even that you took it.

So, you had simply stopped and kept they in your bottom draw under piles and piles of socks.

Sitting there, knowing the inevitable was coming, you weren’t too sure of that ideology now. The few times you had fainted in public, the worse part was always the heat of everyone’s eyes, which made your face light up like a furnace.

So, you nodded although you almost regretted it when your head span. He said something else but you couldn’t hear it when your hearing had become so muffled. It felt like someone had stuffed cotton into your ears and your mouth.

When your vision went, you knew and, although you tried, you were too far gone to tell yourself to do anything to help.

It felt like it was a couple of seconds, but you weren’t naïve enough to think it actually was, so you weren’t surprised to see Saeyoung hovering above you, Saeran just to his side.

For a moment, you felt absolutely nothing until you saw the look of terror your boyfriend was wearing. Even Saeran, who almost always looked serious anyway, was watching with you with furrowed brows and downturned lips.

“MC? MC, can you hear me? MC?”

“Yeah, I can,” your groaned, “just fine, can I get up?”

“No, lie there for a bit,” Saeyoung instructed, placing a hand to your arm to make sure you didn’t move. It wasn’t like you really wanted to anyway, you could just feel the tips of your ears burning and wanted to escape to your bedroom--away from prying eyes where you could just rest.

But, no matter sharp twists of your stomach, you really didn’t think you could move. So, you simply bowed your head and ignored the way he looked at you, imploring you for an answer.

Well, you didn’t serve that here, no way.

The long silence continued for what felt like hours. In actuality, it was only a few minutes, but lying on a floor and trying very hard to ignore your boyfriend was a great way to just drag out the time. Saeran was growing bored, you caught him rolling his eyes several times and you could hear the sigh from where he stood across the room. Although, having said that, he was more than content to make that extra sugary tea he had insisted on.

“Sugar is good,” he said, but that was about all he was willing to say when neither you or Saeyoung were willing to talk.

Eventually, Saeyoung tapped your arm gently and you raised you eyes to look at him. His lips were pressed into a thin line but he tried to smile. It didn’t reach hiss eyes, but you appreciated it anyway. You returned it.

He helped you to your feet, shaky at first, until you got your footing and made your way back to the chair and to the stone cold pancakes you were looking forward to. So much for that.

“Why don’t you go back to bed?” Saeyoung suggested and you took a moment to look at him. Trying to summon your best ‘really?’ expression, you faltered when they realised what it must look like.

Really, this wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. Some rest and you’d be fine. To them, though? You had just passed out in the middle of the kitchen.

So, you stopped. “I just need my--”

Oh, shit.

“Your?” Saeran prompted, placing the tea down. You reached for it without thinking.

You couldn’t tell them. Really, you had gone through all the trouble and to make a big fuss only to ask them for the one thing you had tried to keep from them... no, you couldn’t.

They were looking at you expectantly. “It’s fine, I don’t need anything. Maybe I will go back to bed.”

Unfortunately for you, that was when Saeyoung had had enough. He took the tea from you and placed it out of reach. “No. What did you need?”

“Nothing, like I said.”

He sighed, his eyes narrowing in on you. “What do you need MC? Because you didn’t seem surprised at all. You’ve been acting like this is okay since you woke up. So, what do you need?”

“... nothing.”

Why was it getting harder to say?

“What do you need?”

You paused, his voice was harsh and sharp, yes, but there was a distinct edge of distress that had you dropping your head. “My meds. They’re in my sock draw.”

Saeyoung simply smiled then. “Thank you.”

Looking to Saeran, he said, “Could you?”

“Sure.”

With Saeran out of the room, he took a seat just besides you and gently reached out for your hand, clasping it in his own when you didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry I was forceful. I need to know about this things to help you, okay?”

Logically you knew that but once you had convinced yourself that having this condition, having the meds to treat it would only serve to make you weaker in their eyes. You were capable of managing yourself, you didn’t need their pity or their worry.

But... it felt nice to have someone care even so.

For a couple second until Saeyoung sighed and adjusted his glasses, looking you up and down. “MC, what’s wrong?”

You scrambled for an answer. “Huh? Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a bit ill today.”

Why did you deny it still? It wasn’t like there was anything left to hide. They had seen it all.

“And you have secret meds for feeling sick?” His voice was laced with incredulity and frustration. It had you shrinking in on yourself. The only thing worse than his worry was his disappointment.

You couldn’t let that happen. “I’m sorry, you’re right there’s...”

Now or never.

“Something, I didn’t pay attention to a lot of it, really. I faint a lot, not too sure why, and I have to take the meds in my sock draw. They’re supposed to help and they do, I just haven’t had the time to take them recently,” you explained, picking at the skin around your nail. Biting hard on the inside of your cheek, you looked up to find him nodding.

“Okay, we can work with that,” he said, “we can set reminders, make sure you take them and learn how to work around it, right?”

As much as you wished it was fool proof, it probably wasn’t. And there was still the problem of not wanting to take the meds around them. “I--”

“I...”

Just say it.

“I don’t really want to take them around you and Saeran.” There was a miniscule downturn in his lips. Just a twitch. “It’s not that I don’t trust you! It’s just... really embarrassing.”

He still said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow in an invitation for you to continue. You appreciated it, but telling him that would have to come much later.

"I've never really liked how it made me feel," was all you said. Waiting a second to see if you'd elaborate, he sighed and moved to pull you into a hug. Over the table, it was an awkward angle, but he was quick to move you closer.

Warm. He was always so warm and comforting. But today, he clutched you a little tighter and tilted his head until it was laying on top of yours. All encompassing warmth.

Sighing, you buried yourself as far as you could against him. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner."

"All I want to know is that you're okay." Pressing his cheek further against your crown, his arm traced patterns against your back. "Lets just make sure this doesn't happen again, yeah?"

"Yeah, I think I can manage that."

[smolla-than-a-bug]

you’re definitely flirting with me

—jason todd x villain!reader

second and final part to are you flirting with me. can be read as a stand-alone tho

navi | bat boys m.list | are you flirting with me

content — language, blood, mentions of harassment, mildly suggestive (use of the word ‘daddy’ but ironically)

notes — i know that its literally been years and that i formerly posted a part two to are you flirting with me, but looking back, i didn't like how it turned out. i did find a fun drabble in my drafts with villain!reader as well, so i decided to rewrite it and use it as a continuation. i actually deleted the old parts personally, i prefer this version of the end!

"I'm in."

"Hot. You should be able to see–"

"Nothing?"

Silence.

"Is this your way of telling me you're visually impaired?"

"I will scoop your eyes out in your sleep."

"Please use an ice cream scooper. My eyeballs would fit so well, it would be so satisfying–"

"Harper."

"Okay, okay. What do you mean nothing?"

"By nothing I mean nothing, ball sack. The warehouse is fucking empty."

Frantic rustling of papers and violent knocking of objects could be heard on Roy's end of the line. Jason sighed, going to pinch the bridge of his nose before realizing he had a helmet on. 

The whole situation was throwing him off his rhythm — that much was evident. The intel they had collected on the gang of criminals seemed too obvious, too predictable. Jason had his suspicions, but Roy was quick to shut him down. 'Dude, trust me,' he said. Famous last words.

A crackle of static sounded in his earpiece. Roy's voice urgent and choppy before completely dying out. Jason could only attempt to call out to his partner in the hopes of a full response, but his efforts brought no avail. That's another thing that went wrong today.

"Hey, sexy."

What in the fuck.

"Your ass looks great from this angle. The party you're looking for is in a bar on the other side of the city, by the way."

You couldn't actually see him, but he doesn't need to know that. It's just your thing to mess with him, and by the sounds of him cussing you out for hacking into his means of communication, it was working. It was amusing. He kept you entertained.

That was all you had to say to him for now though, so you bid him goodbye. The roaring of his motorcycle over his colorful language directed at you was the last thing you heard before you cut off and allowed his partner to get back on the line.

"Jaybird? You there?"

"Ah, you're back. I'm never trusting you with getting intel again."

"Whatever. Anyway, was that...?"

"Yeah. Y/v/n."

"Hm. I don't know what she's on, but you have no ass like–"

"And yet I have more ass than you, so shut the fuck up, paddle board."

“That... That was a bit harsh, bro.”

Soft gushes of wind blew against your masked face. You shut your eyes, feeling the breeze and relishing in your little moment of peace. Lazily pacing, you hummed a random tune.

Your mischief and cunningness is something your alias was known for. Most often, it's a convenient trait to be able to slip around with ease and get the job done in a snap, but sometimes you get bored. It can be such a drag when nobody tries a confrontation with you. That's why you're so fond of the Red Hood. It's a shame that it's been a while since you've seen him around, so imagine your delight when you feel a familiar presence behind you.

You took a seat at the edge of the building. To anyone, you would've looked like you were having your main character moment, peacefully looking over the city if not for the small pile of bodies rotting away not too far from you. The dried blood on your attire and your fingers no longer irked you in the slightest. It's something you've gotten used to, which lead to your habit of picking the blood under your nails. Red gets annoyed when you do this — all the more reason to entertain your habit in front of him.

You let your legs dangle over the edge without a care. You didn't bother to greet the vigilante, who currently had a gun aimed at your back. Sigh.

“Oh, I do hate the sight of blood.”

“Well then, maybe — just maybe — you shouldn’t kill for a living.”

That got you to turn your head to face him. You cock an eyebrow — doesn’t he kill for a living too? Sure, his victims are usually criminals and thugs while yours are people you’re paid to target, usually business owners and the occasional politician, but you digress. Details. The point is, he kills people too.

A few seconds of staring and prolonging the tension passed, and Jason weighed his options before eventually putting down his gun. He then opted to join you on the ledge.

“So,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

Funny.

“Sweetheart, if you thought you’d be able to keep me entertained with small talk... I think I’d rather you shot me.”

You stood up from your spot on the ledge and leaned over the rooftop to examine your altitude. You grin to yourself.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. You want to see something. Instead you turn your body to face Jason and mockingly salute him before leaping off the building, though not before you heard him call out your alias’ name and yell a panicked ‘Wait!’

Immediately after you, Jason followed. You chuckled when you saw him get closer. You enjoyed fooling him around almost as much as you enjoyed fooling around with him.

With no time to waste, he pulled out his grappling hook, yanked your body by the waist, and zipped to the rooftop of the nearest building — one different from the last one you were on.

Jason‘s heaving chest radiated distress.

“You’re fucking insane! You could have died!”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed and your stance relaxed. Nobody would’ve suspected that you literally jumped off a building just a few seconds ago. Aw, you pout, he cares about me.

“Would’ve made your job easier. You know, you heroes are supposed to get rid of the bad guys.”There’s humor in your eyes. Jason knows you’re enjoying this. He hates how much you enjoy this. “So, why’d you save me?”

“Why’d you help me with my mission last time?”

He’s deflecting. Cute.

“Hey, I asked you a question first.” You know he won’t budge til you give him an answer. He’s probably been asking himself that question since it happened. You mentally pout, aww he thinks of me. Sigh. Okay, fine.

“The gang you were after just so happened to have given me a job a little while ago.” You recall some of the gang members attempting to grope you. Some unpleasant memories you’d rather live without. “Pissed me off. Now your turn.”

Why’d you save me?

A pause. He shifted to look to the side. Oh, this is interesting.

“You could have died.” Ah, this again.

“Well, you’ve died,” you remind him. “Not that it really stuck.”

He says your name — your real name. You wonder when he discovered your identity, but then again, you’re not all that surprised. It’s him after all.

He can see your growing smile the longer he refuses to answer your question. He knows you’re already thinking of something, and still opts to ignore your question, allowing you to further indulge in your thoughts. He dreads you enlightening him; he knows it’s coming. Jason could not fathom how one woman could frustrate him so much.

“You like me.” There it is, he thinks. There’s your stupid smirk and your dumb air of arrogance.

“Come on, just admit it, hot shot. You can’t live without me.” Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch (just a bit), but you stand by it nonetheless.

You grin wide as you approach him. Leaning slightly forward to grab Jason by the collar and pull him down to meet your eyes, you repeat yourself.

“You like me.” Stated with more emphasis, like a significant fact that you try to drill into your head when studying for an exam.

“I’ll shoot you.”

“Please, daddy.”

© smolla-than-a-bug, 2021. please do not copy or repost my works. reblogs are appreciated!

tags — @iwriteaboutstuff @comicsgirlimagines @httpfandxms

[ma-gic-gay]

What the fuck is this oxygen thing doing in his nose, why is there someone praying at his bedside and who the hell can dim the lights?

"Oh thank god you're awake," the blonde by his bedside (presumably the one praying) smiles. "Are you comfortable?"

He searches his brain before remembering why he's in here: He got shot and fell to the ground (hence the headache). It was coming out of court and he was convinced they were going to shoot at her. "Are you?" He asks in return, noting that she's clearly stretching her back. The chairs aren't comfortable, though she has gotten used to sleeping in them over the years.

A single tear runs down her stained face (probably makeup, he figures. That's messy stuff) as she smiles. "I've dealt with worse," she answers calmly. When he starts pulling out the oxygen thing, she chuckles to herself. "Epiphany is gonna be mad you did that."

"Well I can breathe fine without it," he argues, mildly wincing with the pain of the bullet wound. "This thing's just annoying me."

"You were shot in the chest and narrowly escaped having a serious head trauma, Jason, that's not fine. I had to sign off on four different surgeries for you! One to remove the bullet, one when something went wrong after that with the bullet, an exploratory brain surgery, and then, just for fun, they had me sign off on an exploratory heart surgery to make sure you hadn't had more severe bleeding than they thought," Carly starts in on him, clearly worked up.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days. You could've died in this hospital and guess who would've been to blame? Me. Sam reminded me of that more times than I'd like to think about," she continues her rant. "No taking stupid risks with your life! If you see a gun pointed at you you run the other direction, you don't save me first! I need you alive so promise me you're not going to be a hero and save everyone but yourself."

"The guns were pointed at you, Carly," he argues, knowing it's in vein by the look on her face that says he's not getting out of this. "I wasn't taking a risk with my life, I was saving you."

"And you could've died doing it!"

"You could've died too, you know. They could've shot you or a bullet could've ricocheted. Besides, I'm fine," Jason shrugs off the surgery. "In a little bit of chest pain and with a minor headache but fine all things considered."

She glares at him, clearly still upset. Grabbing his hand, she exclaims, "I thought you were going to die! Sam was blaming me for it left and right. Jake, Danny and Scout thought their dad wouldn't wake up. Michael, Joss, and Donna were worried to all hell. Which reminds me, I was instructed by Donna to give you this card." After a brief moment of fumbling around in her purse, she found the piece of paper she was looking for and hands it to him.

The card was clearly written by Avery, considering that the handwriting is much better than Donna's. It reads, "Get Better Quick!" And has a stick figure that's supposed to be him with a bunch of red coming from his shirt. Blood, he figures. On the inside, it's the stick figure napping, no more red stain. All in all, it's a cute card.

"Hey Carly, is-" Sam starts, entering the room angrily. "Jason! You're up!"

"I'm going to go call my kids," Carly announces, leaving the room. "I'll be back in a few minutes, probably armed with at least one of them."

Getting a quiet chuckle out of Jason, she leaves the room with a pep on her step. He must've scared them pretty bad if she's that happy about his being awake and as functioning a human as someone in a hospital bed can be.

Sam, beaming, takes Carly's place and says, "Thank god. You were worrying us for a while there."

"I'm fine," he shrugs.

"No you're not. You almost died protecting Carly, again. This is becoming a habit of yours, Jason," she sighs. That's a lie; she knows it too. "You being her hero is going to cost you your life one of these days and I don't want that. None of us do."

Now she's just flat out pissing him off. Only took about a minute to do that, which is kind of impressive. "What do you want me to do, let her get shot?"

She takes a minute to think about her answer. What the hell? There's a right answer and there's a wrong answer here.

"I don't want you to die because of her. That's what I think. If that's the only way for it to happen, then yes, I guess she's going to get shot. It wouldn't kill you to let her have a little bit of the consequences for her actions for once, you know," Sam says simply. "Doing something dumb enough to get shot at might be a sign she has to learn her lesson."

"The gun was aimed at her. It was a hired gun from Cyrus. As far as I knew, his orders were to take her out." When Sam stops reacting, he asks, "What did Cyrus do?"

"You got shot saving her," Sam continues. "She's never going to learn to depend on you less if you keep saving her everytime you think she's in trouble, Jason. She'll always be this dependent, if not more, on you."

Oh good god. This conversation is going in circles and it's giving him a headache. "It's not your business anymore whether she's dependent on me or not," he says, voice as even as possible. She seems to be forgetting they're not together, or even friends anymore. They coparent their kids, that's it.

There's a hurt look on Sam's face, he can see as she simply responds, "You're right. But that doesn't mean that it's a good thing you could die protecting her from her own messes."

"I never said it was a good or bad thing. I'm alive."

"I've got to go get the kids," she excuses herself before leaving the room.

Well now he kinda feels like shit. He didn't mean to send her away or hurt her feelings, but it's clear he did just that. To be fair, she might've forgotten about the kids for a bit and remembered she had to pick them up somewhere, but he doubts it. Not wholehearted doubt, but enough.

"Stop frowning. It causes wrinkles," Carly jokes as she enters the room again. "Sam just went to go get Danny and Scout from the Quartermaine's. My kids are over the moon you're doing better. Donna would like to run in here right now, but I had to remind her it's a hospital and that's disgusting."

"The hospital's fairly clean," he smiles before noticing that her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "What happened?"

"Cyrus is out on bail. He's got full reign of the hospital."

"How?"

"I guess his lawyer's actually good and managed to get him bail. Sympathetic judge," the blonde says, shrugging. "He's stayed away from me, thank god. Not for me, for him. I'm half sure if I saw him I'd start attacking him."

"What about the trial?"

"It's over. Cyrus changed his plea. His sentencing isn't for a few weeks, though, so his lawyer petitioned for bail and got it," she smiles brightly as she says the first part, tone turning for the later half. "And if you're not admitted out of here by then, rest assured, I'll break you out to go."

He chuckles, noticing her eyes are glossy. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," Carly laughs. "It's just happening. Tears have decided to fall from my eyeballs, which doesn't even make sense because I'm happy right now. You're alive and as well as can be considering your four surgeries, everyone's fine, I don't get it." She wipes her tears away with a chuckle. "If you'd died because of me-"

"I didn't. I'm alive. Stop worrying I'm going to have a heart attack or something and die. I made it, you made it, your family is fine, my family is fine. No point in dwelling on the past," Jason interrupts her. "See? I'll be fine in a few days."

"You're in here because of me," she argues weakly, not meeting his eyes.

"Look at me, Carly," he instructs calmly and she does just that. "This isn't your fault. It's not mine or anyone but Cyrus's. And the guys that shot me. Alright? You did nothing wrong."

"I could've-"

"Could've what? Been psychic? Predicted the future? That's not real and we both know it. What is real is that I am alive. Everyone we care about it alive. I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. Everything is fine and you're not responsible for not having psychic abilities," Jason reminds her, watching her try to find a hint of a lie within the words or a way she can continue to blame herself. "Stop blaming yourself."

"Fine," she caves, "if you promise to not forget to save yourself when bullets start flying around me, I'll stop blaming myself."

"Deal."

"I'm waiting for the promise."

"I promise to remember to save myself and you."

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No," he says, "it really wasn't."

"You can thank me at any time for introducing you to the lovely world of negotiation."

"I've been in a business involving negotiation since the 1990s."

"Coffee is a very competitive business."

"Very."

When she stops bantering with him and kisses him, he knows something in his life has changed.

To be continued after I pass out :) I live in hell

ô

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Joe West x Martin Stein (The Flash)

Requested by @light-miracles

Hearing the name was the first thing that tipped Joe off. When Barry said it while talking about Firestorm, he thought surely not.

Surely it's a different Martin Stein, somehow. He can't quite tell if he was hoping he was right or not, but he convinced himself he was, that it's all just a big coincidence.

But here he is, and there's Martin. Standing across from him in the Cortex of S.T.A.R. Labs. Despite it being well over a decade or so, he knows immediately that it's him.

Martin shifts slightly, eyes down, focused on nothing particularly interesting as the team talks away, unaware that neither of them are in their little bubble.

He saw him, Joe knows. They looked right at each other the second he walked into the room. He watched Martin's eyes widen behind those same glasses, the look of utter bewilderment on his face. And in came Barry and Iris and the rest of the team, going straight into introductions and figuring out a game plan.

Joe thinks it's a good thing; it gives him time to wrap his head around this properly, think through what to say when he gets the chance. But no matter what runs through his mind, nothing feels right. Nothing eases the twisting, churning mixture of feelings he's got going on inside of him right now.

"Joe?" Barry asks at last, snapping him out of his daze, dragging his eyes over to meet his slightly concerned gaze. "Does that sound okay?"

In all truth, Joe has no idea what the hell Barry just said. His eyes dart off to the left.

"Uh, what? Sorry, didn't catch that last part."

Martin's eyes flick to him for the second time since he walked in.

"I asked if you could stay here with Stein, make sure everything's okay here while we head out to catch the Meta," Barry repeats gently, and Joe's aware that he's gonna get a few questions about this later.

For now, he nods. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just be back soon, alright? There's only so long I can stay away before Singh comes back to revoke captain from me."

Barry laughs at that. He promises, and he, Cisco, and Ralph head out while Caitlin and Iris relocate to the lab in the back of the room to go over what they have so far on one of their other cases.

Leaving just him and Martin. Alone again.

Martin clears his throat and Joe lifts an eyebrow an inch, watching him, waiting with this annoying little flutter in his chest.

"So..." Martin starts uncertaintly, but he's looking at him, right in his eyes. "It's been quite a long time, hasn't it?"

Joe makes a quiet noise at that, half a snort, half a chuckle. "I guess forty-six years is a long time, yeah, you could say that."

Martin falters, as if he thought maybe he wouldn't remember. Or at least wouldn't know how long in exact numbers.

He draws in a deep breath, then nods.

"Things have certainly..." he lifts a hand to gesture at him, letting it fall back to his side a second later, "...changed. I hear you're a detective now."

"Well, I was majoring in law when we met, that shouldn't be all that surprising," Joe points out.

Martin smiles. It almost feels forced. Sad.

"It's not. I'm happy for you," he says, sincere. "And rather proud. Working part-time out of a lab? I thought you once said that science just 'wasn't your thing'."

"Oh, it's still not." Joe shakes his head, making a face as he glances around. "I'm just here to help out with the arrests and legal side of things, and because of Iris."

He stops after he says it. It hadn't really processed in his mind before it left his mouth. Martin's still wearing that smile, nodding now. He's got that look in his eyes; he always used to get it before, when he was trying to hide something.

"Yes. Iris. Your daughter. She's rather lovely. And a lot like you, from what I've seen."

"Well..." Joe shrugs. "I did raise her alone from the age of eleven. Guess some things just sort of stuck."

There's a flicker of surprise in Martin's expression. He doesn't comment on it, doesn't ask. Joe's admittedly a little relieved. Telling him about Francine just isn't a conversation they need to be having right now.

"I imagine you're incredibly proud of her," Martin says. "You should be. She's been nothing but kind to me since I got here. Very intelligent. Would make an excellent detective as well."

"Yeah, that's what she said when she wanted to sign up. I talked her out of it."

Martin nods, as if that makes complete sense to him. There's a glint in his eyes.

"You did say you'd never let your child go through the same tedious process as you did," he says. "It's good to see not everything is different now."

Joe hums in the back of his throat. He swallows and waves a hand vaguely at him.

"And--hey, I heard you have a kid, too. A daughter? Caitlin talks a lot about her. They went to some college together, I think?"

Martin nods again, though looks a little thrown. "Yes. They did. Lily is rather fond of her."

"And... her mother sounds lovely."

Caitlin's mentioned her a couple times as well from what he can remember of the snippets of casual conversation. Just little things about going with Lily for family dinners.

The comment definitely catches Martin by surprise. Joe doesn't really know what he's expecting, but he hates that a little part of him is waiting with so much anticipation and dread, already regretting saying it at all.

"Yes," Martin says again, then shakes his head, clearing his throat. "Yes, she is rather extraordinary. A brilliant mother, too."

That same part of Joe sinks. It's just a little stab in his chest, nothing too painful, but still enough.

He presses his lips into what he can muster of a smile. "That's good. I'm happy for the two of you."

Something seems to register. Martin rubs at his jaw with his left hand. It's an old habit, a nervous tick he used to have and apparently still does, and that's why it takes Joe a moment to notice the lack of a ring.

His eyes widen a touch in realization before Martin even speaks. He wasn't going to say anything about it himself; like he said, things have changed since they knew each other. For all he knew, feelings and a whole lot more could have as well.

"Clarissa and I are no longer together," Martin tells him. He pauses, lifts his eyes to meet his. "We divorced a few years back. After I told her the truth."

The truth. "Oh," Joe says slowly.

"It was for the best," Martin says, shrugging. "I loved her more than anything, but..."

"But you weren't being honest with yourself," Joe fills in the blanks.

Martin stares at him. "Precisely."

They both know, the unspoken thing between them, desperately calling out for one of them to just acknowledge it.

Rehearsing possible lines in his head hasn't done him any good. It's like there's this giant elephant just sitting in the corner of the room and they're both supposed to pretend it's not there. But Joe's never really been all that great at ignoring things.

"I feel like I should be apologizing," he says, chuckling nervously.

Martin's brow furrows. "For what?"

Joe tilts his head and softens his voice. "You know what. All of it. I just..." He sighs, shaking his head now, trying to find the right words to explain.

"You weren't the one who ended things between us, Joe," Martin says quietly. "If anything, I should be the sorry one."

"No, I shouldn't have pushed you like I did," he says. "I got too caught up in it all. I thought that everything would magically be perfect after college."

"You can't blame yourself for liking the idea of a perfect world or wanting to get a little lost in a romance."

Joe just shakes his head again, pressing his lips together, a knot pulling tight in his stomach.

"I was the one who pushed you away, remember?" Martin points out, stepping closer. His hands are moving as he talks, palms up, like he always used to do. "I shouldn't have, I know that now, but I got scared."

"Of course you were scared," Joe scoffs, gesturing around them. "The world was terrifying back then--still is! Our entire relationship was against the law and every second day there was some news story about people like us dying."

Even just remembering it makes him sick to his stomach. The fear that was instilled in him. In Martin. They always tried to push it away, focus on the good between them. But it was harder, and the secrecy didn't help.

Martin stops in front of him. The look on his face is so familiar, it reminds him that not everything has changed. The way he's looking at him. A small comfort settles in his chest.

"That's why I had thought that what I was doing for the best. Ending things for both our sakes before it even really started. But--"

Martin shakes his head, his mouth stretching up into that smile. His shoulder sink and he sighs.

"I still regret it," he says. "To this very day. I thought that that day was the last I would ever see you, and I've spent forty-six years since wishing it had gone differently. I never wanted to lose you from my life."

Joe's biting his cheek so hard he worries it might bleed. He breathes slowly, his eyes stinging, and he blinks, glancing away from him.

"Yeah, that was the part I hated the most," he says, his voice tight and straining to his own ears. The pain is finally sinking back in after being ignored for all those years, and it's a lot heavier than he thought it would be.

"I really did love you, you know," Martin says softly.

Joe nods, biting harder. He meets his gaze again, and it's taking everything in him.

"I know," he tells him, sincere. He never doubted it, not really. "I loved you, too."

Neither of them knows what to say now. It's like they've torn the barely healed skin off of an old wound, ripping it open to bleed out all over again. The elephant is gone.

"Hey, dad?"

Joe's eyes widen and he quickly blinks, looking over at Caitlin's makeshift lab to see Iris peering out out of the doorway. It was easy to forget they were only separated by two panes of glass with no actual door.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, hoping that she didn't notice.

"Would you be able to do a coffee run for us?" she asks, and smiles widely. "Please?"

Relief sinks in. She seems blissfully unaware of anything that just happened, her attention clearly caught up in the work.

He chuckles, and nods. "Yeah, sure. But, uh..."

He glances at Martin, uncertain. Martin smiles back at him and shrugs.

"I'll come with you. I doubt anyone's going to attack me in the middle of a coffee shop."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, we've seen stranger," Joe says, and Iris agreez.

Martin's smile widens. "I'll have to take my chances then. Believe me, I need some fresh air, as lovely as this place is."

"Great!" Iris says. "Oh, and could you maybe throw in a croissant or something? Cait's hungry and threatened to eat me."

"Hey! You're the one who said that!"

Joe shakes his head at them, rolling his eyes. He gestures to the entrance and starts walking, Martin going with him.

"Be back soon!" Iris calls to them.