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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! First of all, I am like🥺 such a fan of everything you write! And so I saw that you’re taking prompts and thought I’d try my luck. So, if you’re inspired of course, maybe you would do “I’m not leaving” or “I’m glad you’re here” (or literally any prompt from that list bc they’re all just🥺🥺) for Steve/Tony? Oh, and as a fellow Swiftie, I hope you’re ready for the Fearless re-release tomorrow !!!🤯 bc I’m looking forward to crying my way through this weekend🥲🥰🥺💖💞

hi!!! thank you so much, and I’m so sorry this took so long! but i also managed to put both prompts into it so hopefully that makes up for it lol. also the fearless re-recordings are so insanely good and the vault songs are god tier!!

Tony has a vision in his mind for the day he graduates from college. It’s been there since he was just a kid and the furthest ahead he could imagine for himself was that day. At the time it seemed like a hundred years away, and it carried an allure of freedom that was nearly unfathomable back then.

He always thought Ana and Jarvis would be there, sitting next to his mom. Howard came and went from the vision, because sometimes Tony would dream that it would be the day he was finally proud of him and sometimes he would be out of Tony’s life completely by then. When Steve comes into his life in middle school, new to California from Brooklyn, he gets added to that vision, too.

The reality ends up disappointing.

It’s been a few months since Jarvis passed, a couple of years since his parents died, and even longer since Ana’s death, but it hurts a little more today. All of the empty seats make Tony’s chest ache. Steve’s absence makes it even worse, even if he understands it. It’s not the first time the army made him miss something big, and Tony knows it won’t be the last. At least he’d been apologetic on the phone. A little sad, even, which made Tony feel worse for it.

After the ceremony ends, Rhodey slings his arm around his shoulder and Pepper walks on his other side.

“Just once I wish they’d pick someone actually good to speak at these things,” Rhodey complains. “That was so cheesy.”

“You mean you aren’t excited for the first day of the rest of our lives?” Pepper teases.

Tony laughs, “I thought the real low point was that joke he tried to make in the middle. Not too inspiring to imply that our degrees are essentially useless.”

“No, I love knowing that I’ve wasted the last four years.”

Rhodey hums, “Also wish he was a little more wrong about that.”

Rhodey’s family starts to call his name, waving enthusiastically from where the large group of them is huddled together. Pepper’s parents stand with them, looking so clearly like the odd ones out that it makes Tony grin.

“I see your families are getting along just fine,” Tony says, watching Pepper’s mom bounce one of Rhodey’s cousins in her arms.

“They’ve joined forces to nag us to death about getting married,” Pepper sighs, but there’s a fond smile on her face that betrays her.

“Trying to get you to set a date?”

Rhodey grins, “Trying to get me to propose, actually.”

“You proposed last month,” Tony frowns and looks down at her left hand, which is surprisingly bare. “I didn’t hallucinate that, did I?”

Pepper pulls her necklace out from where it was hidden beneath her collar. The ring sits on a delicate silver chain, diamond glittering in the sunlight for just a moment before she tucks it away again. She puts her index finger to her lips to tell him to keep it quiet, and Tony laughs.

“What did your innocent families do to deserve this?”

“There are no innocents in our families,” Rhodey says seriously. “We’re just buying ourselves some time until nagging me into proposing turns into everybody trying to plan our wedding for us.”

“My mother has terrible taste,” Pepper adds.

Waving from their families has turned into walking their way, and Tony gets sucked into the fold along with the two of them. He means to slip away after a few minutes, but no one lets that happen. Rhodey’s mom hugs him tightly and tells him he needs to eat more, followed immediately by how proud she is, and his cheeks turn pink under her attention. Somehow she wrangles him into joining them for the celebration dinner, but he can’t say that he minds much when he’s sitting with all of them. The laughter and stories take his mind off the melancholy feeling that’s been following him around lately, and it isn’t until he’s back in his quiet apartment much later in the day that he thinks about it again.

His hand twists into the chain around his neck, dog tags clinking together. They’re the first ones Steve got, back when he was newly enlisted after high school, and the letters are worn down beneath Tony’s thumb as he traces the shape of Steve’s name. He remembers that first time Steve put them around his neck and told him to keep them safe while he was gone. It was a promise to come back, and on the worst nights they’re both a comfort and a curse.

Leaning back against the closed door, he looks at the messy room in front of him. Finals week left him with little time for anything other than studying, and that coupled with his existing propensity for disorder, it looks a bit like a smaller tornado crossed through the apartment. Mugs stained with brown rings on the inside litter the coffee table, accompanied by pages of notes, pens, and uncapped highlighters. The blanket has fallen into a crumpled pile on the floor, and Tony is contemplating if he has the will to clean it all up when there’s a knock right behind his head.

He assumes it’s Rhodey and Pepper, here to decompress after finally untangling themselves from their families, and he turns around to open the door with a light-hearted remark already on his lips. Whatever it was leaves his mind immediately at what he finds instead.

“Hey, baby,” Steve smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

Tony means to say something in return, but all that he actually manages is a choked out sob. He doesn’t fully realize he’s crying until Steve’s hands are on his cheeks to brush away the tears.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony clutches at every part of him that he can reach. He grips the rough fabric of the fatigues, clings to his arms and shoulders and back, and he can’t possibly get close enough.

“You’re here,” Tony whispers when he eventually finds his breath again. “You’re here, you’re actually here.”

Steve’s hand strokes through his hair, and his other hand is holding on to Tony just as tight as Tony is holding on to him. “I’m here, baby.”

He isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, swaying slightly as they hang on to each other, but it must be quite a long while before he can let go again. Even then, though, he doesn’t let Steve go very far. They fall onto the couch in one tangled mess of limbs. Tony puts his chin on Steve’s chest to look at him, and Steve looks back with a soft smile that almost makes him want to cry again. There’s a small, faded scratch on Steve’s cheek that wasn’t there before, and Tony reaches out to trace it with the tip of his finger.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Tony says quietly, like if he speaks any louder, the lovely little bubble they’re in will break.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” Steve says again. “I really tried, but -”

Tony interrupts him with a shake of his head, “It’s okay. You’re here now.”

“I’ll be here for a while, I promise.”

Tony smiles, but there’s a dull, familiar ache in his chest at the thought that it will eventually come to end anyway. “How long do I have you for?”

Instead of answering, Steve shuffles a bit beneath him, hand worming its way into his pocket. He pulls out a folded paper and hands it to Tony, expression unreadable. Tony sits up a little to read it, and by the time he’s finished reading every single line to make sure it’s real, his hand is shaking.

“You - you’re - discharged?” Tony stammers out. “You’re done?”

Steve nods, grin slowly forming as he watches Tony process it. “Was sort of hoping that might make up for missing the ceremony this morning.”

Tony laughs, light and carefree in a way that he hasn’t felt in four years. He kisses Steve with everything he has, paper crinkling between them, and between one kiss and the next, Steve reassures, “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. Never leaving again.”

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #my writing #prompts #prompt fill #my fic

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elriell · 3 years

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Yesterday was my rant day, so today can be my ✨positivity day✨ lol Here are some of the moments I, (and the discord server) enjoyed reading, I did not even look at the chapters before the House of Wind because nothing there I wanted to re-read...

“And so Nesta too had become a wolf. She had armed herself with teeth and invisible claws and learned to strike faster, deeper and more deadly. She had enjoyed it. But when it was time to put the wolf aside, she found it had devoured her too.”

“In case you have a bad dream and need someone to read you a story.” he drawled, a half smile dancing on his face, “Maybe one of those smutty books you like so much.”

"I was a young, arrogant idiot." (u still are but eh)

“Before she could absorb the leap that made her stomach churn, Nesta found herself in Cassian's arms, flying with outstretched wings to the stone porch. It had been a long time since she had been held by him like that, since she had seen the city so small beneath her.”

"Come on, Nes, let's hear what you have to say.""Don't call me Nes."

“Until the last battle, when she had failed to stop thousands of Illyrians from succumbing and had instead managed to save just one. Him. She would do it again, if she had to. And that knowledge... She couldn't bear that truth.”

"I'll keep my fucking opinions to myself if you decide to eat."

“He had never forgotten the terror on Nesta's face as she ran towards him with outstretched arms.”

"Who taught you to talk like that?""It was you all. You have the filthiest mouth I've ever heard."

When she passed him, Nesta had the impression that Cassian was holding his breath. She was so close to him that a movement of her elbow would have hit his stomach. "I look forward to enjoying your silence," she told him in a hushed tone.

"Glad to see you woke up ready to play, Nesta."

“She had allowed him to kiss her during the final battle. It had only been a kiss, all he could do given her injuries, yet it had shaken her to her core.”

“Nesta remembered those moments more often than she cared to admit. The pressure of his fingers as he cupped her face, the way his mouth had touched and tasted her, soaked in blood but still sweet.”

"You're a bastard." Cassian assented. "Born and bred.”

"Oh, I'm not going to be the one to get into your bed." Nesta chuckled, pleased with that small victory, and had already almost reached the stairs when he shouted after her, "You'll be the one getting into mine."

“He had lost all speech, forgotten every language he knew at the sight of Nesta walking in front of him, back straight and in no hurry like any noblewoman presiding over her home.”

“Two years had passed. Since then he had had to make do with his own hand.”

“He would have to find a way to get over the craving before agreeing to reside in the House with Nesta. She was hurt, out of control, and the last thing she needed was him drooling over her.”

"What is she doing here?" Nesta turned a small smile of understanding on him. "Witchcraft."

“She'd broken something inside him, some final resistance and the last glimmer of hope that everything they'd gone through during the war could result in something good.”

"Any weapons she touches must then be buried. Leave them aside in a pile." Nesta was puzzled. "We will do no such thing," Cassian said furiously.

"Get up." He had never given her orders like that. "Get up," she had said between groans that day before the King of Hybern. "Get up."

“Morrigan was a scheming hypocrite.”

“That thought crossed Nesta's mind as she stood in the basement of the library below the Wind House. A vain, scheming hypocrite.”

Nesta crossed her legs at ankle level and adjusted the edge of her cape like the train of a dress. "I already told you: I am not doing any training."

“Each of the steps and movements Cassian performed was beautiful, precise and deadly, and Nesta could do nothing but stand and watch him.”

“She had never been able to take her eyes off him. From the moment they had met, she had developed a special awareness of his presence in any space, in any room. She had never been able to stop herself, to block out that feeling, even though she had always tried to make it look like she did.”

“He had kept away from Nesta for the next nine months. Very very far away. He had come so far as to make a stupid mistake, to bare his own heart and let it rip out of his chest. He had barely managed to walk away with any dignity.”

I am sure there more but these are the moments that stood out to be, made my heart clench and so on. Feel free to add on :)

#acosf #acosf spoilers #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #acotar

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gojology · 3 years

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Job Benefits. (Part One)

new beginnings ‧₊˚✩彡. - chapter one.

you can find part two here : part two : undesirable

pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader

warnings : cursing

wordcount : 1960

a/n : something that i’ve been working on for a while now. this is self indulgent as all hell and i’m starting a new series n idk when it’ll end necessarily but ceo gojo is all i need in my life. also i have like 300 million requests to go through but i PROMISE i’ll get them done! i just need to finish my valentines event thingy and i’ll be open!

it has come to my attention that gojo is his surname and i’m too lazy to fix anything other then the first name basis part im so sorry LOl

It’s no secret that you like working the office. Even as a child you enjoyed the formal atmosphere when you walked into your parent’s workplace, and even better, you enjoyed organizing stuff. Growing up, your favorite pass time was cleaning and organizing which caused you to excel in school, coupled with your natural smarts. Your peers would constantly tease you, telling you that you were a boring kid- but hey, you’d be making lots of money, and what better job would there be for you, aside from being someone’s secretary? Those were the first words that came across your mind as soon as you stepped into the prestigious building, heels rhythmically hitting the stainless floor, suitcase in hand. It was also the first lie that you’d tell yourself in there. You had known about this company even as a child. One that sold just about everything, the most notable being luxurious clothing, but something the company was also well known for? How attractive the family was. Sure it was a bit weird, but in defense of the general public their appearances were rare, only once in a while you’d see the family on TV. Waving in their limousine, blowing kisses and doing things rich people do, or maybe ignoring the cheering crowd of journalists and news reporters, hell like you knew. Catching glimpses of the wildly white haired family was something every paparazzi threw themselves at, and picking up a magazine or going to search something on the internet would be sure to be chock full of pictures of the esteemed family. The highlight of the family being the son, just because of how handsome he was, and also happened to be the most publicly known and fawned over family member- Gojo fucking Satoru. Luckily for you, he was your boss, so you could probably reveal the tiniest of secrets and make major bank. Unluckily for you, he was childish as all hell, not to mention you found childish people incredibly annoying. The worst thing? You were his secretary. That could only spell out doom for a man like him, and a woman like you, who only wanted to get business done and nothing else. You two truly did not mix. Two months prior, you had gotten the job and was finally excited to have stable income after graduating. Your hirers didn’t tell you anything about having to babysit a manchild though. And so, that’s how you found yourself sitting in the comfortable plush leather office chair, fumbling under the piles of paperwork and fan letters, cursing your boss’s name under your breath for being so unconcerned with work. Scheduling appointments, interviews, sending e-mails of unacceptance to eager authors asking to write an auto-biography, that was your life. You’d be content with it if your boss was normal. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s like he heard you think. “(Y/N)-chan~!” you hear a familiar sing-songy voice down the rather short hallway. Your office resided right next to his, and it would only take him 30 seconds or so to walk down to your door, presumably to annoy the hell out of you. You grunt, blowing a stray hair out of your face. This also meant that you could hear him sing from his office, even through the thick walls. Choosing to ignore it, you instead furiously typed to another business executive’s secretary who had just emailed you about a meeting between Gojo and- well you weren’t quite sure who. “(Y/N)-chan~ I know you hear me, don’t you know it’s disrespectful to not listen to your seniors?” his playful, deep voice was growing closer, and you straighten your back, sighing. You didn’t sign up to be a daycare worker, yet this was what you found yourself doing most of the time. “I’m sorry, Satoru-sama, please instill me with your great knowledge, oh wise one.” rolling your eyes and rubbing your temples, you glance up from your laptop, bracing yourself for whatever would happen next. Gojo leaned on the frame of your door, head ducking slightly. He was way too tall to walk under it without any issue. He was unnecessarily calm though, normally he’d be jumping around your office, making a mess of things, but his body language told otherwise. He was slacking off from his duties, obviously, so you weren’t too sure why he’d be acting so... Chill. With his arms crossed, he gave you a mischievous side eye. Growing impatient, you stand up, your knuckles grinding against the tabletop. Your brow knitted together as he peered down on you, almost tauntingly, and you hated it. “Listen, boss. I have a lot to do today, for you, might I add as I am your secretary- and if you’re going to sit around I don’t think I’ll get to these emails and phone calls and everything fast enough. May I kindly assist you with anything? If not I’ll have to ask you to go back to... Whatever you were doing.” Gojo looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, like he didn’t expect such a sassy remark. “Oh my, sweetie. Someone has a naughty mouth... To your boss of all people? How mean! I don’t think I remember putting, ‘allowed to be rude to the Satoru clan’ down on the job benefits.. What’s with the formal tone as well? So unnecessary, just be yourself when you’re talking to me.” He sauntered closer to your desk, and your breath hitched, this was one of the first times you’d seen him up close like this, and you swore that you could hear your heart beating rapidly inside of your chest. You don’t know what that could mean; but what you did know was that you wanted to slap him or punch a hole into the glass window right behind you and throw him off the 15 floor building. Leaning in close to your ear, he whispered: “Or, if you wanna stick with the business voice- call me sir. Got that?” You nod before looking down at your desk, feeling your body heat up for seemingly no particular reason. Did this guy have any knowledge of a private bubble? Whatever, this was your superior. If it was any boss you’d probably be fired by now. You were lucky to be forgiven. “Yes, sir. May I comment on something... Er, sir?” “I’m all ears.” standing back up from leaning over your incredibly messy desk, you looked up at him, he looked down at you in response, with beady little “innocent” eyes through his circular shades. “I didn’t mean to be sassy, I only wish for this relationship to be professional and nothing else.... I, um, truly do apologize and I ask for your forgiveness.” you studied the wall as you say this, fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your pencil skirt. It was a bit awkward to talk to him as if he wasn’t a kid, but it did feel certainly refreshing. “Is that so?” you turn your head to look back at him as a sign of respect, an eyebrow of his is raised, and a smug smirk is playing at his lips. He talked with such an aura of arrogance around him, you instantly regret being respectful. Yet, you restrain yourself from slapping that stupid smirk off his stupidly handsome face. Why did all the handsome ones have to be so annoying? Fuck, no, that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. Even though it was only in your mind, you felt so embarrassed, and had no idea why. It wasn’t like he could read your thoughts, and it was just a mindless compliment, nothing flirtatious about it. Finally, he spoke. “Aw. (Y/N), I knew we picked well when we hired you. So respectful and professional! What more can I ask for out of a secretary? I humbly accept your apology- but first please do something for me.” he whistled in the other direction as he picked up one of your cute stationary pens, hastily sliding it into his blazer’s pockets. “Yes, sir?” you brace yourself for impact yet again. Not noticing that he stole one of your favorite pens. “Slack off a little. None of my secretaries ever worked this hard. I’ll slide in an extra hour for lunch, you can go watch a movie or something-” “No. Satoru. Contrary to your other secretaries, I actually enjoy work.” standing up now, you stomp over to Gojo, who was now giggling like a 7 year old girl. You hadn’t realized that you had called him by his first name, but honorifics wasn’t on your mind right now. Your chest stuck out as you shoved him out of your office with your bare hands, maybe as a way of looking more threatening, as if that’d ever work against him. “Get out of my office!” You hope your eyes are staring daggers, if he ever looked back at you. Gojo looked at you like he was shocked, tipping his shades down just slightly as you were pushing him out into the hallway. As if he didn’t believe what he was seeing, so he had to see it with his actual eyes- but eventually laughed before accepting his eventual fate. “On a first name basis now, aren’t we? You’re straightforward! I like straightforward girls though, it works out in your favor.” “Shut it.” He made sure to stiffen once in a while just to piss you off so that you couldn’t push him as easily, and before long he was back to his office. “Cya (Y/N)!” giving you a wave and a wink, he grinned. “I’ll be sure to visit you again, your office is fun!” That was just one of the unusual interactions that Gojo Satoru had with you, but you knew now that it certainly wouldn’t be the last. ‧₊˚✩彡. It didn’t take you long before you realized your favorite pen was gone. Almost immediately, you figured out who the thief was. It was evident by now that your relationship between you and your boss wasn’t normal, to say the least. You just couldn’t quite wrap your head around why he stole a cute carrot pen, it certainly wasn’t his style. Well, you weren’t quite sure honestly, but the way the magazine front covers posed him was... Sexual. Maybe the hot guy liked cute carrot pens and was too scared to buy them by himself, but, it was 2021. Toxic masculinity was basically extinct. This wasn’t on his mind when he stole your pen, though. Gojo Satoru was smart when he wanted to be. To be quite honest, he just wanted to annoy you more. It made him curious, how could one enjoy work? And be cute at the same time? The logic made no sense to him. Attending meetings, doing interviews- this was all very boring work to Satoru, and he couldn’t wrap his head around that you enjoyed that. He hadn’t asked to inherit the company, but yet here he was now. Shit, maybe he’d ask you if you wanted the company. He yawned before drinking his coffee, just how he liked it before taking a sip he straightened his tie, just to make sure he looked extra clean and fresh when you busted down the door, ruffling his fluffy white hair as he did so. Gojo hated the work environment, just to be straightforward. One thing he did enjoy was the complementary luxury coffee machine, alongside several sugar packets. Placing his impossibly long stick-like legs onto the table, he sighed happily. Cute girl being his secretary, drinking yummy coffee, the sun rays warming up the back of his head, he was truly living the life. And then he heard it. Loud steps against the tile floor. And then, his door flung open.

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solarwonux · 3 years

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24H || Seuncheol

mechanic!seungcheol x reader

soulmate!au

w.c: 6.5k

warnings: talks of death, angst, self doubt

note: hello everyone I am not completely back yet, I am still on hiatus. I have been writing this one shot since the release of 24H. I have rewritten it many many many times and have a abandoned it many times as well. Anyway, this is the finished product and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. And thank you @sunlightwoo for literally witnessing it all lol.

Also maybe one day I’ll post the original draft of this one if anyone is interested.

P.S. this is a part of a soulmate universe in which all the members are going to have a story, but that’s gonna take a little while lol, but I hope you all stick around until them

masterlist

Hour 1 - 17:00

Seungcheol threw the wrench on the pile of tools next to him before rolling himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “I don’t see the point in it, Shua.” He sat up, grabbing the towel he had next to him, and tried his best to wipe the black smudges of his fingers. “I’m already a disappointment to my parents, why not add one more to their list?” He shrugged, eyeing his best friend who had decided to come and visit him at the car shop he worked at.

“I think Shua has a point; you can’t brush this off. You don’t want to end up forgotten in a ditch somewhere.” Jeonghan said, pointedly resting his forearms on top of the hood of the car he had been working on.

“I’m not going to end up in a ditch and forgotten. The higher-ups--” Seungcheol stuck a pointer finger out and pointed at the cement ceiling, “are just going to set me up with someone.” He stood up and brushed off his whitewashed jeans, the only ones he seemed to wear as they had various oil stains etched into the creases of the fabric. In actuality, he had many of the same pair, and each of them had their own unique patterns of different oil stains.

“But wouldn’t it be better if you married your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime, the person the Stars destined you to be with,” Joshua spoke in rushed sentences as he ran a frustrated hand through his jet black hair. His wedding ring shining in the light of the sun, glowing in all its glory. A reminder that he had chosen the path that he and Jeonghan were trying to get Seungcheol to take.

Sometimes curiosity would seep in s when he saw how happy his best friends were with their soulmates, or when the ticking of the clock scarred into the skin of his wrist, and got too loud to ignore. Seungcheol knew he didn’t belong on that path. He was never one to follow the crowd, and the proof was in his parent’s disappointment when he decided to study music instead of medicine.

“Nope.” He stood up and closed the hood of the car. He could feel their glares burning holes into his scalp as he strode over and opened the driver’s door. “I’m a firm believer that soulmates are made not found.” Seungcheol grinned before getting behind the wheel and inserting the keys into the ignition. He had spent all morning working on a minor problem in the engine; he was hoping that after many failed attempts, he would finally be able to get the car to start again.

With a deep sigh, he turned the key listening as the engine sputtered a few times. The hope and confidence he had gained diminishing with each hiccup until, finally, the car roared back to life. A sigh of relief leaving his chapped lips along with a light laugh. He rested his forearms against the old battered steering wheel, peering through the windshield, catching Joshua’s nod of disapproval. He turned on his heels and walked out of the large garage door of the shop.

Seungcheol knew his friend’s meant well, and he knew they didn’t want him to end up unhappy with someone that wasn’t his other half. But how was he supposed to be sure that happiness was a given? When at the end of the day, everyone’s given soulmate was chosen at birth by a group of old white dudes calling themselves Stars.

Hour 2 - 18:00

“What are you going to do then?” Jeonghan closed the hood of the car and dusted his hands. His blonde hair grasped the light of the afternoon sun. Seungcheol placed down the paper bag that contained his and Jeonghan’s lunch on top of the aluminum table they kept in the far corner of the shop. “I don’t know...eat lunch.” He stated, shrugging and started taking the contents out of the paper bag. “Shua leave?”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the car. He strode over to where Seungcheol was and took the burrito he had held out to him. “Said he doesn’t want to stay and watch you ruin his life.”

“I’m not ruining my life,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head and sat on top of the table, unwrapping his burrito. “I’m choosing the road not taken.” He finished before taking a decent bite out of his burrito.

“That’s ruining your life in my book.” Jeonghan gave him a pointed look and unwrapped the foil of his burrito, cursing when he noticed some its contents start to fall out of its confinement. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about how they look?” He dug inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to clean off the salsa stain of his grey graphic tee. Jeonghan rarely dressed down, unless he was working. Though, sometimes he’d show up in outfits Seungcheol always deemed to clean for the oil splatters he would obtain throughout the day.

“If looks were the all end tell-all, you’d be an actor instead of the owner of your father’s car shop.”

“Are you calling me sexy, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan gasped, making the other boy scoff in annoyance. Seungcheol took another bite of his burrito, the salsa running down the stubble of his chin and sighed. “Cause may I remind you I am happily married.” Jeonghan jokes, raising his hand, wiggling his ring finger.

Seungcheol squinted as the ring got caught in the crossfire between the heat and summer sun. The churning at the pit of his stomach started up again, along with the little voice annoying voice that lived in the back of his head. The red block of numbers on the inside of his wrist laughing at him as he tried his best to push the thought to the back of his head. Like he had done his entire life.

“Sure...but that would just be an excuse, and it wouldn’t be fair towards the other person.” He shrugged, finally cleaning his chin the rest of his mouth. He crumpled up the foil in his hands before throwing the ball he had formed into the paper bag. “It wouldn’t matter soon anyway; I don’t have much time left.” He jumped off the table and made his way to shelves where they kept most of the tools along with small spare car parts they might need some time in the future.

“How much time do you have left?” Jeonghan asked a little too exasperatedly than he would’ve liked, but Seungcheol had managed to catch his tone, and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. He closed a drawer he had mindlessly opened and dropped his head. Seungcheol hated looking at his timer because it never brought a good reaction out of him. He hated the way the anxiety would filter in through his veins as he let his mind wander to the what-ifs.

For as long as he could remember, he only allowed himself to stare at the number scar before bed but never enough to dwell on it. Last night he had twenty-four hours left; now he was positive the timer had reached the single-digit zone, and to be frank, he was afraid. He didn’t want to feel the pressure against his chest and the shortness of his breath. He didn’t want to feel the shaking in his hands and sweat that formed against his brow bone. Seungcheol had already chosen, but he knew that the second he glanced over at the timer, his doubt would start to run free. And he hated that feeling more than anything, but he also hated Jeonghan’s burning gaze staring him down as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. So he caved.

He turned his wrist and pushed the bracelets he used to hide his soulmate mark with his other hand. His breath caught itself in the back of his throat, his lungs closing in like two crushing walls as he saw the numbers ticking down. For a split second, he wondered if he had chosen the right path if his parent’s and his friends had been right all along. But he had been so sure just like he was confident that his name was Choi Seungcheol, that he had chosen right, so why was he letting his thoughts take over.

Maybe it was the teachings of the Stars he grew up reading at home and at school, or the guilt has finally started to consume him. Whatever it was, he decided to push it aside, bury it deep inside the archives of his mind. He had chosen right, and he wasn’t going to let any false pretenses change his mind.

“Five hours.”

Hour 3 - 19:00

Seungcheol moved the straw of his bubble, creating soft caramel tidal waves in the cup. He had already picked out all the tapioca pearls leaving him to deal with the unpleasant honeydew tea he had ordered. The soft melodies of an old pop song played in the background, drowning out the flirting going on between the lovers in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on his cup; it had started to accumulate the condensation that came with the humidity of the summertime. His index finger traced over the water droplets that had fallen onto the table, creating a small picture of nothing.

Jeonghan had dragged him to their usual boba shop after closing up the shop for the night. He had given Joshua a frantic phone call, claiming it was a 911 type of emergency. Seungcheol wasn’t sure how they weren’t tired at having the same conversation, and why they couldn’t let him live with the consequences in peace? If he ended up unhappy, that was his problem, and he would eventually deal with it, but he couldn’t stand the way everyone around him always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life.

It had started the day he was born, scarred with a mark against his own will. It carried out onto his childhood, his parents and teachers telling him how to sit, how to dress, how to speak, and how to breathe. When he left for college the same day his parents decided to disown him, he had finally felt free. He thought for himself, walked for himself and lived for himself. But now his best friend’s the ones he thought he could always count on and he felt knew him better than anyone in the world. Where the ones were trying to guilt-trip him into making a choice, he had made years ago, and frankly, he was getting really tired of it.

“Are you even listening to us Seungcheol, this is your future you're putting at risk,” Joshua whispered angrily, his grip on his cup grew tight enough his knuckles had started turning white.

“Why does it matter?” Seungcheol lightly flicked the straw of his drink before pushing it away and crossing his arms. Jeonghan and Joshua both looked at him as if he was growing a third head, annoying him even more. He wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to them, it wasn’t their life getting ruined.

“It matters because we don’t want to see you dead.”

Hour 4 - 20:00

“Are you serious? Do you guys actually believe that kind of stuff?” Seungcheol shook his head and looked out the restaurant window. The sun had finished going down for it’s deep slumber and in return awakened the night life of the city. He took in the people smiling and laughing as they joked and clinged onto one another. He saw limbs start to give out as the alcohol they had previously consumed started to replace their blood. Seungcheol found himself wishing he was one of those people, where the one controlling his body wasn’t the one that gave up on their dreams but instead still held onto that small sliver of hope. It would at least be an escape for a little and most importantly it would be an escape from the painful talk his best friend’s were giving him.

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” Joshua spat out, quickly he stood up grabbing his coat and shrugged it on. “I’m not going to stay with you and watch the clock count down until you die.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and took out his wallet before throwing some money onto the table. “Are you coming with me?” He said before facing Jeonghan who was biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Seungcheol saw the gears turn in his head as he thought over his options, his eyes traveling between the furious looking Joshua and himself.

“Joshua calm down, look there have been some cases in the news lately of mysterious deaths and the only thing they have in common is that their timers went out before they got to meet their soulmate. I don’t know if it's all connected but it can’t just be coincidence Seungcheol.” Jeonghan stated, he tapped his forefinger against the wooden table as Joshua eyed him down waiting impatiently.

“And what if it is, what if I do find this person and then they turn out to be horrible? You guys got lucky but my life has never been a series of unfortunate events since the beginning of time so who's to say this is any different?”

“If you keep sitting here and mopping and feeling sorry for yourself, you’ll never find out.” Jeonghan nodded before taking out his wallet and throwing money onto the table. He hated the pity he saw behind his eyes. It only frustrated him because to him it felt like they had given up on him already. That they were planning his funeral without him leaving the world yet. Seungcheol wasn’t entirely convinced that death was at the end of this unfortunate journey, he sadly hoped it was. That way his friend’s would actually have something to pity, but he was alive and healthy (for the most part) so their pity in Seungcheol’s eyes was uncalled for.

“Then let me find out. Everyone is always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I didn’t need you guys to also be one of those people too. You’re supposed to be my friends but here you are nagging me like you’re my parents. If I’m not worthy of hanging with you guys anymore because I’m not married and I have no interest in ever getting married then just leave me alone. I’m better off by myself anyway.”

Seungcheol knew that as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake, but mistake or not he would never take them back. No matter how the luck of hurt flashing in their handsome features affected him more than it should’ve. These few hours could be the last of his life and instead of living it to his fullest with his closest friends he was pushing them away. Just like he always did whenever he felt too comfortable or afraid.

“Jeonghan let’s just go, he’s already made up his mind. He’s not going to listen to us.” Joshua sighed, the exhaustion was evident on his face. It was clear he had given up long before the events of tonight. He knew how stubborn Seungcheol was, he knew that once he sets his mind to something there’s no way to turn it back. Seungcheol suspected that’s why he hadn’t tried as hard as Jeonghan to convince him to change his mind.

“Cheol, just think about it okay. You don’t have to go out and actively look for that person but just keep an open mind and they might just appear right before you. I know you think that we’re trying to do this to change you or to get you to settle down, but we don’t want to turn on the news tomorrow and have your names be part of one of the victims. If you can’t do this for us or yourself at least do it for you mom.” Jeonghan nodded one last time before scooting himself out of the booth. He stood sending a glare to Joshua that wasn’t missed by Seungcheol and somehow it made him feel uneasy inside. He didn’t want to be the one to cause a rift between him and Joshua’s friendship, they had known each other longer than they had known Seungcheol. For half of their life’s Seungcheol was simply an outsider between the threesome. He didn’t know at what moment they became inseparable, but now he wished they hadn’t.

At least they wouldn’t be involved in the webs of Seungcheol’s complicated life, and they certainly wouldn’t be here showing the utmost care for him when he himself felt like he was unworthy of it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” Jeonghan mumbled before dragging Joshua out of the restaurant, mumbling angrily underneath his breath. Seungcheol knew the small comment was Jeonghan’s way of holding onto the little amount of hope he had for his friend. The hope that he would walk into the car shop tomorrow morning and see Seungcheol passed out drunk, his drool stain embedded into the checkered pattern of the old battered couch in the office, because he couldn’t remember how to unlock his front door.

Though, it was a phrase full of hope, it wasn’t a promise, and it felt more like a goodbye to Seungcheol. It made him uneasy and Seungcheol hated feeling uneasy because it only made the ticking sound of the clock tattooed onto his skin louder.

The front door bell to the restaurant sounded, signaling that someone had walked in or out. He turned to face out the window again and saw Jeonghan and Joshua in a heated argument before Jeonghan kept dragging him away by the ear this time. The scene could’ve been comical to him at some point, but now he just wondered if they were all going to be okay by the time the night ended and morning came again.

Either way it was clear to him that they had walked out of his life, maybe not for good but they also wouldn’t be the first ones either.

Hour 5 -21:00

Seungcheol paid the bill and exited the restaurant quietly, his best attempt to remain invisible. It would be a lie if didn’t admit how scared he was after Jeonghan and Joshua left him alone with his thoughts for the first time since he awoke that morning.

Would his faith really be death?

Or where they using their evil tactics against him to convince him to do the right thing. Needless to say he was scared, more scared than he ever was whenever he thought about falling in love.

He had once, a long time ago, back when he was still studying music production in college, before he dropped out and took up a job at Mr. Yoon’s carshop. During the three years he was there, all the songs he had composed resembled something about her. Whether it was a phrase she had said or the way the color blue seemed to make her honey doe eyes pop. He was in love, head over heels, ready to give it all up, his friends, his pride, his dream, his life, everything under the sun, for her. He had his bags packed long before she had agreed to run away with him.

In fact, he almost did, but the morning as he stood underneath the winter sun, waiting at the bus stop with two overprized one way tickets, with his fingers threatening to fall off from the cool. Everything became clear to him, she had abandoned him and their plan. She had given up on him, just like his parents had when he first told him he was going to follow his dream, instead of theirs.

Seungcheol was angry, it boiled inside of him like an overflowing calderon, and the closer he got to the university and his dorm, the more it spilled over. In a frenzy he had entered his home and destroyed everything he owned. His studio setup, his computer, his many notebooks that were filled with lyrics, because everything had been touched by her and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Not after she had lied boldly to his face the night before when they shared the most intimate moment with each other.

And just like he promised to her underneath the moonlight, he gave it all up, but this time because she had broken him.

There was a letter she had left for him to find. It didn’t come into his possession after he had stopped attending classes and was living on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch. The university had called him to pick up his belongings from his dorm after he dropped all his classes on whim one Saturday afternoon. When he did, when he opened the front door of the wretched dorm room, the room that once held so many beautiful memories turned sour. The toe of his shoe was met with a brown paper envelope, his name scribbled neatly on the back. Instantly he knew who it was from.

Seungcheol had once prided himself in memorizing the way her letters curved with one another. A useless talent he now wished he could forget entirely. With a hesitant he opened it and skimmed through, not wanting to linger long enough on every single one of her words so it would hurt less.

In the end it did.

It hurt more than her leaving him stranded on the bus stop that morning. It hurt more than finding out that the little things she had strategically left at his place had mysteriously disappeared when he came back home that morning. It hurt more than giving up entirely on a dream so pure that it ended up tainted. It hurt more than dying, or so he assumed because now he finally knew the truth. A truth he had been blinded to the entire three years they spent lost in each other’s thoughts and arms.

She didn’t love, and she never did. She had a passion that consumed her to the point of greed and when she realized she wasn’t going to achieve her dream with Seungcheol at her side.

She left and he had given up love for good.

Which is why Seungcheol was so against the entire soulmate phenomenon. If death was the outcome then so be it, even though the thought of his mom finding him out he was dead scared him to the point it welcomed chills to his body. He was stubborn though, and his father always hated that about him because it reminded him of his younger self. But Seungcheol was never going to give in, no matter how loud the click on his wrist was ticking and how fast he found himself walking.

There was a little bit of hope. It was reserved for special occasions and those had been a rarity in Seungcheol’s life for longer than he liked to admit. But it was still there, buried deep inside, behind his walls and his pride. And it was threatening to burst out into the open, because as much as Seuncheol was scared of falling in love again, this time with a complete stranger, terrified him. The thought of not knowing if his life was really at stake was far scarier. He was gambling with his life line and that was a risk he found himself not willing to take. Though he would never admit to himself and especially not to Jeonghan or Joshua.

He was in complete denial at least for a slight second. Yet, he had started to walk with fever and hastily. He was desperate, he didn’t know where to start or how to start or if he should even start. He just walked, until his body was running on autopilot. He didn’t know where he was going or where he was going to end up, but the only thing on his mind was that the timer was blaring inside of his eardrums at an alarming rate, and the hope he kept at bay spilling out of his pores.

He needed to find his soulmate before it was too late.

Seungcheol didn’t want to die, he still had a dream to achieve. He will do it, he had promised himself that much. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from again.

Hour 6 - 22:00

Seungcheol was panting, bending over, with his sweaty palms against his jean clad legs as tried his best to put the air back in his lungs.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, all he could remember was bumping into a few people along the way and mumbling sorry’s underneath his breath when they had sent him glares his way. But he had ended up at the park across the street from his studio apartment, the one he rarely lived in because more often than not. The old raggedy couch at the car shop had been his home for as long as he had worked there. He had bought it last year after saving up enough money, in hopes of it becoming his new beginning, his safe space, where he could jump right back into working on his one goal in life.

Though, the first night he had spent there, he had hated it. Occasionally he would give it a second chance. He had given it many second chances, but the outcome was always the same. He would stay awake until four in the morning, get frustrated and then end up running laps at the park until sunrise.

This park had been his sanctuary, the one his apartment couldn’t provide, so it was no surprise his body had carried him here. He felt at home here, the hollowing of the wind chiming and wrapping around him like a blanket of safety. Here, in this park, Seungcheol felt comfortable enough to let his mind race through the thoughts he would keep hidden behind a wall.

He straightened himself out, running his fingers through his wet sweaty hair and made his way to the park bench by the basketball court, where he would occasionally lay down in the middle and look at the sky, counting the lack of stars in the sky. He knew they were there, but because of the city's light pollution they were invisible to his eye. Those were the only stars he trusted, not the ones that used the Universe’s gifts for their own selfish desires and to control everyone.

The stars in the night sky, the one’s he used his imagination and intuition to connect with, trusted him. They were the only one’s in his life that believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself, and it made him feel at ease knowing that at least someone out there was rooting for him to win this losing battle.

Seungcheol took a deep sigh and placed his palm over the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had only two hours left, and he would rather not witness the time ticking down. He could hear it, it was drumming loudly against his eardrums, loud enough to the point in which he couldn’t hear the wind and the tree’s surrounding him singing their natural melody. The last thing he needed was to see the visual representation of his last breath nearing him.

He wanted to fight, but he was tired. If tonight was his last night living a life he had been so cruel to. He would at least take his last breath at the place he felt most at home.

So, he sat back and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the wind against his cooling skin, the familiar shivers running up his spine. For the first time since he woke up that morning he felt at peace.

Hour 7 - 23:00

The ringing of his phone startled him. He had only had his eyes closed for about five minutes. Only five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh and fished out his phone from the pocket of his oil stained light washed jeans. His gaze and heart softened when he realized his mother was the one calling him. Without hesitation he unlocked his phone and placed his phone to his ear.

Silence. He was met with silence, until a choked sob broke it, his heart shattering in the process. “M-Mom, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol sat up. His eyes grew wide. The anxiety running through his body making his leg bounce.

“Joshua called me. He was freaking out saying that you were making a mistake. What is talking about? You’re not thinking about leaving again?” His mom spoke. Seungcheol could visualize the almost heart attack Joshua had given his mother when he called. He could visualize the color draining from her face as her hands shook while she dialed his number. Seungcheol’s mother was an over thinker and she always thought about the worst possible scenarios. Especially when it came to Seungcheol and his brother. Joshua knew what he was doing when he had called his mother. He knew that his mother was his weakness. Despite the differences they argued about over the years, Seungcheol loved his mother and knowing she was in such distress because of him, scared him more than what he already was.

“Nothing mom, he’s over exaggerating. Jeonghan, him and I had a small argument earlier but it’s nothing mom. I’m okay.” He spoke into the receiver lying through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, although he was in his sanctuary and at peace. His timer finally reached the fifty-nine minute mark and his heart was racing to the point he was scared it would literally squeeze through the spaces between his ribs and rip through the safety of his skin, onto the concrete pavement beneath his feet.

“Are you sure? He sounded really scared and worried, what did you guys fight about?” The words came rushing out of her mouth at lighting speed. He knew that question was coming and although he tried scouring through the files in his mind to come up with a concrete answer that would make his mother worry less. He couldn’t. There was no answer he could give her. If she lied she would know, but if he told the truth, his mother would certainly never be able to recover.

He knew he could prevent her heartbreak. All he had to do was get up and start walking again, let his feet carry him as his intuition and the Universe led him to where he needed to be, but he stayed seated. His hand closing into a fist taking the roughness of his jeans between them, the frustration, fear and anxiety coursing through his veins faster than before. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, maybe if he didn’t let his own selfishness consume him to the point it clouded his judgment, he could’ve let himself do what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

“It’s not a big deal, Jeonghan asked him to be his best man and I got a little upset. Tomorrow we’ll be fine and laugh about it.” He said letting out the breath he had been holding in. He knew he sounded like he had just ran a few miles rather than sitting down in complete silence and stillness.

“I know you’re lying but I have been able to get the truth out of you, so I’ll drop it. At least I know you’re okay and you’re still here.” Seungcheol’s mother stopped speaking for a second, he could hear his father whispering something to her and his mother answering in agreement. “Visit us tomorrow, your brother is coming over tomorrow for dinner. Your dad wants to see you.” She half whispered the last part and it brought a slight smile to his face. For years Seungcheol and his father had not been on good terms, whenever they saw each other, his future always became the topic of conversation. His father always shared his disapproval and disappointment on how Seungcheol’s life had turned out. His father expected too much from both him and his brother, he had dreams in which he had tried to instill in them. It wasn’t enough that one of his sons had achieved his dream, his pride was attached to the two of them. And knowing that Seungcheol always refused, always followed the beat of his own drum, wounded his pride.

His mother and brother always tried their best to bridge the gap between them that had only grown deeper over the years.

Seungcheol admired their commitment, but just being in his father’s presence fully aware of how he felt towards him was only a simple reminder of what he did not want to become, and it only made him resent him even more.

“I don’t know mom, I work until late tomorrow and I wouldn’t have enough time to go home shower and change. Maybe some other time.” Seungcheol whispered. The wind blew causing a single leaf to escape its perspective branch. Seungcheol watched it closely as it flew down, landing on his lap. He picked it up in between his forefinger and thumb, twirling the steam as he listened to his mother sigh out.

“Just come after work...it’s important.”

Seungcheol wanted to say yes. The simple three letter word was one of the hardest ones to say. With the urgency in his mother’s voice, he knew that she wasn’t lying and that whatever his father had to tell him. It was important. But Seungcheol didn’t want to make a promise he could not keep. For he didn’t know if his tomorrow would ever come. If the last thirty minutes (indicated by the timer on his wrist) would be the last thirty minutes of his life.

He wondered if it was possible for time to run faster than before, and the quick ticking sound in his head proved that he was right. It was now drowning out the sound of his mother’s low and desperate pleas.

“M-Mom I’ll see what I can do, maybe if Jeonghan is in a good mood I can convince him to let me off early, I’ll try to be there by dinner time.” The almost empty promise escaped his throat, running past his teeth and perfect lips faster than he could stop himself.

“Perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mother cheered. He could hear and sense her happiness through the receiver of his phone and it shattered his heart. When tomorrow came and what Jeonghan and Joshua both claimed to be true would happen. What would be his mother’s reaction?

“I’ll try mom, you know I’m not good at keeping promises.” He half joked, the tears had started to pool in the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the night sky, making eye contact with the moon. They had once been intimate, but over the last few months they had been disconnected, the stars surrounding her protecting her from his own selfish needs and acts. He missed her, he wished he could feel her light upon his skin, caressing him and holding him in ways he wanted to be held. Ways in which he needed to be held. Though, he could feel her reluctance as he took in her beauty. She was there with him, keeping him company as the last twenty minutes of his life counted down.

“You always find a way to keep them Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” He whispered before the line went dead. Seungcheol sighed, bringing down his phone from his ear. He stared at his mother’s contact name, trying to decide if he should call her back again. Tell her that he wasn’t fine that he was scared and that he wanted to be in her arms, singing the song she always sang to him whenever his imagination betrayed him, plaguing his dreams with nightmares. But he didn’t again, his own pride and reluctance, the one he gets from his father and the reason why they clash so much kept him calling her back.

Instead he looked at his timer one last time, noted that there were ten minutes left and placed his phone down next to him on the bench. He took in his surroundings one last time before leaning his back and closing his tired soft eyes.

Hour 8: 24:00

“Excuse me?”

Seungcheol opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the soft voice behind him and the light tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly looking around frantically. He only had five minutes left and his peace had been disturbed. He turned around his gaze falling upon someone he had only seen in his dreams.

“You dropped your phone.” You said shakingly, handing him his phone. He assumed that it had fallen through the cracks of the bench; he had been so deep in his thoughts he didn’t hear the thud of it hitting the ground.

“Oh um, thank you.” He spoke quickly, taking his phone. His fingers accidentally brushed over the soft skin of your wrist, the familiar digital clock appearing before him and the ticking sound became loud enough to the point he couldn’t hear the nagging voice that had stayed with him for the last twenty five years of his life. Quickly he glanced down to his wrist and then at yours, he could feel the fear radiating out of your pores as the seconds counted down faster than the speed of light.

Seungcheol almost laughed. In fact he felt the laugh suppressing itself in the back of his throat. But as the timer finally reached the infamous zero’s, his last breath didn’t come, and neither did yours. He watched as you looked around frantically before your eyes found his. You let out the sob you had been suppressing for the entirety of the day. Your knees gave up on you and you leaned down hugging your calves, burying your face into your thighs, the sobs came quickly and Seungcheol sat there not knowing what to do.

It was like his body was acting on his and he stood up, rounding the corner of the bench and crouched down. His shaking arms wrapped around you tightly, running a soothing hand down your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of your navy blue sweatshirt.

The next words we muttered, were words he never thought he would say again. But again it felt like he wasn’t in control of his body. It felt like after the timer hit the long awaited double zero’s his body belonged to someone else, almost as if he had been reborn again after twenty five years.

“It’s okay, I am here.”

283 notes · View notes

tamakissimp · 3 years

Text

B.K- I could never

READ PART ONE HERE

summary: Weeks after meeting Bakugou, you break and call him up for comfort. Unbeknownst to you, he has been dying to hear from you.

warnings: cursing, crying, guilt, Bakugou hating himself?

wordcount: 2099

a/n: the fact that we all just decided that Bakugou smells like caramel is so funny lol

Three weeks, five days, thirteen hours and six minutes. That's how long Bakugou hasn't seen you. To anyone who asked about it, he would groan that he couldn't give a rats ass about you. But he couldn't deny it to himself. Not when he was lying awake at ungodly hours, staring at his phone in hopes that you would call him.

What if you realized how much of a dick he is and decided that you didn't want to see him ever again? The thought of having fucked up after only seeing you for less than three minutes makes his gut curl up. It makes him want to sew his mouth shut to stop the hateful words from flowing out. Every day that passed by without a call from you adds to the pile of guilt building up inside him.

His words never mattered to him. Not when he yelled at his friends. Not when he screams awful words at his parents. Not when he told Izuku to jump off a fucking roof. Never did he think about how his words affected others. But when he saw the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks, the cold and broken look in your eyes, that's when he knew he fucked up.

Ever since that godforsaken day, he hasn't said a mean word to his friends. Irritated ones, sure. But Izukua was suddenly spared from the usual insults. Denki didn't get called a dunce for everything he did. His father suddenly got hugs instead of rants about how pathetic he is. The change was weird and it makes everyone feel uneasy, though it wasn't unwelcome. All of a sudden, Bakugou wasn't associated with anger and insult, now it was just anger.

His damned anger, that seemed to grow with every day. Normally, his anger was pointed at others but now it was pointed at himself. Because he was the jackass that hurt you. He was the asshole that tainted your skin with disgusting words.

Why can you only say such hurtful things? He runs his fingers over those letters that taint his wrist. Even though his room is dark, the blue light coming off his phone is enough to illuminate the space to the point where he can still make out the words. Why could he only say hurtful things? It was a conscious decision that he made. The only thing that drove him into pushing people away was himself.

His ringtone sounds through his room. His body perks up. He reads the number on the screen. Unknown. He doesn't waste a second with answering it. "Hello?" he says. The softness of his voice surprises him.

"Hi," you say. He jumps off his bed. "It's...It's Y/n.". Your voice is still as kind as it was that day. Bakugou's heart skips a couple of beats at the sound of it. He didn't know how much he missed it until now.

"Hello, hi. How-How are you doing?" he asks. He doesn't even try to keep his voice down anymore. The people sleeping around him be damned. You're more important than they will ever be.

"I'm good. I'm great," you say. It stays silent for a couple of seconds. "Actually, I'm not. I'm fucking terrible.". Bakugou remains silent. He's sure that if he says anything, he'll fuck up again. "I know this is weird, like really fucking weird but could you....come over?".

Bakugou clams his phone between his cheek and shoulder and quickly starts pulling his shoes onto his feet. "That's...weird. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you say. His heart aches at the words. "You know what, just forget it. Forget I called, okay?".

"No," he says firmly. You're silence by him, taking aback for a bit. "I'm coming over, alright? Text me your address.". It isn't a question, it's a command. You need him. You're doing bad, something in you wanted him there so he well crosses all the seven seas just to get to you.

"Okay, okay. Yeah, I'll do that," you say. Bakugou hums in acknowledgement as he closes the door of his dorm behind him. "I'm gonna hang up now, okay? And I'll...I guess I'll see you in a bit.".

"I'll see you," he says. The click of you ending the call bounces through his ears before he grabs his phone and opens his messages. The address you sent him is all too familiar. The general studies dorm. Curses fly out under his breath as he roughly stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator. Instead, he runs towards the stairs.

Bakugou runs down the stairs with a speed that would put Iida to shame. While the walk to the general studies dorms would normal take him five minutes, Bakugou manages to do it in under two. He finds you already standing outside of the building. A blanket is wrapped around your body. The hood of your hoodie is pulled over your head, covering your hair.

As he gets closer and closer to you, the state you're in becomes more clear to him. Your eyes are bloodshot, your chin is wobbling and dried tears have stained your cheeks. Even though you look like you're one second away from breaking, there is still a smile on your lips. That damned smile that makes Bakugou's heart skip a beat. "Hey," you say.

Bakugou doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, head burying in the crook of your neck. The sudden human contact was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. Another stream of tears rushes down your cheeks. Sobs shake through your bones as you bite your lip to keep the sounds in. It's only when the disgusting taste of blood fills your mouth that you let the sounds go.

Pathetic whimpers and sniffles ring through the night as you bury your face into Bakugou's chest. The smell of burnt caramel floods your nose and calms you down. Who knew something so sweet could be so comforting?

"Let it all out," Bakugou whispers. His hands run up and down your spine. Everything feels foreign to him. He is never one to comfort others, though, with you, it comes naturally. His body immediately knows how to calm you down and bring you back to a relaxed state.

You whisper apologies out in between sobs and ragged breaths. Even when you're falling apart in front of a total stranger you're still trying to comfort him. Running your fingers through his hair, saying praises through your apologies. It all tugs onto Bakugou's heart. Nothing in him should deserve someone as kind as you. Yet the universe still decided to tie you to together through an eternal bound of your souls.

Bakugou grabs your wrist and brings it up to his lips, gently placing a kiss onto your soulmate marks. Those words. Those words that caused you so much pain and made you fear for the moment you would meet your soulmate. Those words that he put there.

"Don't be sorry," Bakugou says. "Don't ever be sorry for feeling. Don't be sorry for crying. Got it?". You nod at him. He gently wipes the tears off your face with his thumb. "If you feel shitty, you come to me. You come to me and you do anything that helps.".

You pull away from Bakugou, now standing in front of him. It's only now that you notice his bare arms. He forgot to grab a jacket in his rush. You peel the blanket off your shoulder and hold it out to him. He shakes his head but you just push it closer to him. "Please," you say. He rolls his eyes before taking the plush material from you.

Bakugou wraps it over his shoulder. He was probably going to regret only wearing a tank top tomorrow but right now, he didn't care. "Idiot," he says as he snuggles further into the blanket. "You're going to catch a cold.". You just shake your head as you stuff your hands into the front pouch of your hoodie.

"No, you are," you say. The tears have stopped flowing down your cheeks and a smile adorns them now instead.

"Gonna tell me what's going on?" Bakugou asks. You nod, staring down at the ground. You start to fiddle with your hand. Bakugou lifts his hand and places two fingers on the underside of your chin. He lifts your head up to force you to look at him. "Come on.".

"I'm so sorry for making you wait," you say. Bakugou is taken aback by your words. "I'm your soulmate for fucks sake. And I just ignored you for weeks, that's such an asshole thing to do. I'm sorry.".

Bakugou cups your face. He shakes his head. You stare into his red eyes. There's a certain softness hidden behind the fire burning in them. "Don't. Be. Sorry," Bakugou says. The words are hard for him to say. He never opens himself up to people. Up until a few weeks ago, he did nothing but hurdle insults at people like it was nothing.

It was the only thing he knew how to do; be a bully. Yet here he is. Holding his soulmate like they're made of glass. Afraid to say anything because the has already fucked up the very second he met them. He has permanently marked them with the insults he uses.

"You aren't supposed to be sorry," he continues. "You're supposed to be fucking mad at me. You're supposed to hate me, not be sorry.". You shake your head at his words. You reach your hands up to runs them over his face. Your pointer fingers smooth out the furrow of his brow.

"I could never," you whisper. Bakugou's chin wobbles at your words. Vulnerability is new to him. Just saying these words feel like he's ripping his chest open and showing you his heart.

He's waiting for you to reach in and pull it out. For you to throw his heart on the ground and stomp on it. Instead, you gently stroke it. You say loving words to him while he did nothing to deserve them."How could I hate my soulmate?".

✨bonus✨

The bright sun shines into your skin. Crisp air bites into your nose yet the cold doesn't seem to phase you. Bakugou's hand is intertwined with yours. You smile at him as he continues to talk about his day.

"So Kiri just came out of nowhere with five fucking bowls of noodles because that idiot order way too fucking much," Bakugou says. You nod at him. Months ago, Bakugou would have referred to his friend as 'shitty hair' or some other demeaning nickname. Now, Kirishima got the privilege of having a kinder nickname; Kiri.

Bakugou looks down at you while you keep on smiling at him. "What's up with the goofy look?" he asks. One of his brows is raised. You shake your head as a giggle escapes your lips. Bakugou's heart warms up at the sound. Even now, months after knowing you, the sounds still make him feel lovesick.

"Nothing," you say. You give his hand a gentle squeeze. You move your eyes from his handsome face to the birds flying out of the tree around you. "Just glad that you're here.".

A blush dusts over Bakugou's cheeks. Every cell in his body is set afire. All he can do is stop walking and pull you into a tight hug. You don't hesitate to return it. His body clings into your almost desperately.

"You always say such sappy shit," he mumbles into your hair. You just laugh as you wiggle yourself out of his grasp a bit. Your hand reaches up to gently stroke his cheek. Bakugou stares into your eyes with a passion you didn't know existed until that cold night outside of your dorms. "I love you," he whispers.

You stay silent for a second. Your mind is too busy with admiring his beauty to register his words. Did he just say that he loves you? Nervousness washes through Bakugou's body. Did he say it too soon? What if you don't love him? Did he fuck up?

"I love you too," you say. Those words shut up every doubt in his mind. A dorky smile spreads over his lips before he pulls you in for a kiss. His kisses are normally rough and hungry. This one is different. It's gently and filled to the brim with love. He pulls away after a few moments. "I love you too," you repeat.

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saltminerising · 3 years

Text

Running An Art Shop With Minimal Crying 101

Hey y’all, not sure what compelled me to write this Now but I wanted to put together a list of helpful ‘good business practice’ tips for artists who want to start selling commissions on FR and want to build up a good reputation and make bank. I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable throwing this on the forums personally so here you go, y’all have to look at my stupidly long possibly helpful brutally honest post cuz I don’t know where else to put this.

I’ve been doing art on FR since I was a young teenager in 2015 and through that time I’ve definitely learned some lessons the hard way. I’ve taken on more than I could handle, I’ve let commissions rot for months because I got overwhelmed… you know what I mean. Here’s some of what I’ve learned over the years that’s helped me run a consistently successful art shop for well over a year now.

I don’t have a tumblr and I don’t know how to add a ‘read more’ to a submission, so happy scrolling <3 I apologize for causing some people a very minor inconvenience

-Do not take prepayment for either more than three commissions at a time, or more than the number of commissions you think you can finish within a month or two, whichever is smaller. This is especially true if you’re like me and you have ADHD. Trust me, the more commissions people have already paid for you have piled up in your to-do list, even if they’d only take you 20 minutes each, you will get more overwhelmed and discouraged and people will wonder why it’s taking you so long. Even if you aren’t getting concerned PMs, a lot of people are just too anxious or polite to ask for updates. (On the flipside, if you commissioned someone and haven’t gotten any word/updates in a while, you’re not in the wrong to ask how things are going and when you can expect an update.)

-Full payment upfront is something I definitely recommend for smaller pieces (headshots, sketches, etc) you can finish in one sitting. However- if you’re doing a ref sheet, a rendered fullbody, etc, and you’ll be spending multiple sessions on the piece and getting feedback for it multiple times- split it up, take half upfront and half either after the sketch is approved, or before you send them the final unwatermarked version. I’ve done dozens of commissions like this and never had a problem, personally. There’s a low chance of a customer backing out on you if you’ve already started and sent WIPs because, y’know, sunk cost, and on the other hand it is reassuring to customers (especially if your shop is new) that if you drop off the map, they paid $20 upfront and got at least a sketch, instead of paying $40 upfront for an unfinished piece.

-In the same vein: if you’re doing a large piece like a rendered fullbody, ref sheet, etc, more communication is always better than less! I always stay on the safe side here. Some people will tell you they just want you to go apeshit and do whatever you think will look cool, other people might have much more specific ideas of what they want and how closely your artwork needs to match the image of their character in their head. Send them the sketch and ask them if they want any changes. Send them the lineart and ask if it looks good. If you’re working on a time-consuming painting that will take you weeks to finish, please please please, communicate! Send updates! Your customers will feel a lot less anxious about how long you’re taking if you keep them posted (plus this is just a personal thing but I love seeing peoples’ artistic process, it sparks joy!!)

-If, once again, you’re like me and stuff like painted fullbodies take you so much longer than other commission types- the worst thing you can do is underprice. Let’s say a detailed, shaded dragon fullbody takes you, for instance, 8 hours, maybe longer because you get burned out and can’t finish it in just one sitting, but you don’t think people will buy an $80/8kg fullbody. Do not lower the price you think your art is worth. If fullbodies take you really long compared to other art, or you get unmotivated, just… don’t offer painted fullbodies, or scenes with multiple characters, or whatever. If there’s a form of art you’re capable of creating but it’s faster, more fun, and gets you more money to do smaller things, just do more smaller commissions instead of taking the big ones. This one was a lifesaver for me.

-Once again in the same vein: It is okay to say no. Just because you are physically/artistically capable of drawing a detailed scene of multiple dragons with complex apparel, doesn’t mean you won’t get burnt out or bored. For me, larger pieces take exponentially longer because I just get bored and don’t want to work on them anymore. If someone asks if you can draw something that will require so much of your personal time and effort to go into a single piece, just say no. Sometimes I’ll say yes to some big commissions because I think the character is cool and inspiring and I want to draw them; otherwise, I will admit, I’ve said no to big commissions because I personally found the character boring as hell (though I wouldn’t phrase it that way). And that’s ok!

-If you are going to be really busy in the near future, stop taking commissions. You have finals? Don’t say “sorry if things take forever, I have finals”… just don’t take the commissions while you’re busy. If you have too much on your plate, commissions will just stress you out more, and nobody likes to draw motivated by stress. There’s nothing wrong with temporarily pausing your art shop. Put your mental health first. And if you aren’t able to get commissions done on a regular basis because of mental health, or because you don’t give enough of a shit about other peoples’ characters: don’t do commissions. I don’t mean this in a bad way; I’ve been in that spot before and it’ll just cause more stress and guilt than it’s worth.

-NO PARAGRAPHS. That sounds hypocritical of me writing this lol but do not put long paragraphs in your art shop, ever. I promise nobody will read it. Put your rules, and any other information, in bullet points that are one or two lines. Keep your rules clear, simple, unambiguous and short, or everyone will ignore it and I won’t blame them. Put titles and subtitles wherever you can. If you have a block of text longer than probably five lines, it will be ignored by most people. I have decided not to buy art from people because I didn’t want to have to dig through blocks of text for information.

….so yeah I think that’s about all I can think of at the moment. time to sit back and get yelled at for not being able to shut the fuck up and get to the point lol, hope you (yes you) have a great day c:

#submission #long post #art tag 🏷

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

Note

Hey! First of all, I'd like to say that I love your works on AO3! "Fifteen Minutes With You" (or smth along those lines) was one of the first fics of levihan I read, and I loved it!

Anyway, a couple of sentence prompts that've been rolling around in my head. I'll add some detail, but feel free to use or discard anything. Writing is tricky lol!

"What if I (insert bad deed)?"

"I'll love you just the same"

"And if I (do smth bad)?"

"I'll love you just the same."

I was feeling a childhood levihan thing goin on here, maybe angsty? Idk

And fluffiness

"Wow! It's been 4 days!"

"Since?"

"I last bathed!"

*thwack*

Aaah hello! Thank you so much, I’m always pleasantly surprised to find people who read my Levihan fics from back in the day :D it brings me so much joy, you’ve no idea.

I decided to go with the bath prompt - though admittedly, it ended up far less fluffy and far more angsty than I intended, I hope you can enjoy it regardless!

---------------------------------------------

"Hange."

...

"Hange."

...

"Oi, shitty glasses. Hange."

No response.

Levi stands in the doorway, shoulder-leaning the frame and glowering into Hange's cluttered quarters. He has been calling her name for the better part of five minutes now, but Hange, hunched over her desk with her nose mere inches from the leaf of parchment she is scribbling on, had failed to notice him.

He kicks his boot against the door, and the resounding bang is enough to catch her attention. She jumps a little in her chair, and turns quickly to the door. She relaxes when her gaze lands on him.

"You scared me."

Levi grunts. "You didn't come to dinner.”

Hange blinks at him. Her gaze travels to the window, where the sky beyond had grown dark save for a speckle of stars and the thin smile of a wispy moon.

"I forgot.”

Levi rolls his eyes, pushing off the door frame.

"You forgot lunch, too." And breakfast, and countless meals over the last few days, weeks. Months, maybe.

She hums absently, turning back to her papers. "I've been busy. Lost track--I don't know how Erwin had enough time in the day to do everything."

Levi gives a noncommittal grunt and picks his way towards the desk, avoiding haphazard piles of books and papers and discarded scrolls, small, disorganised mountains of debris that must have made some semblance of sense to Hange. Even as he watches, she twists in her chair and reaches blindly into one pile, plucking up a stack of papers and dropping them onto the desk with a sigh.

Levi stops beside the desk, arms folded over his chest to look at her.

Up this close, Hange looks tired. It isn't an unusual sight--Hange has been prone to fits of research-fuelled insomnia for as long as Levi has known her, so easily side-tracked by her every theory and scheme that basic needs like sleep and sustenance often took a back seat. But there is something unsettling to her exhaustion, these days. There is no manic glint in her eye, no exaggerated waving or yelling, no aroused flush to her cheeks; recently, Hange is always pale, skin papery at best, but waxy and sickly more often than not. Her shoulders sag over the desk, shirt hanging more loosely over her frame than Levi remembers, and there's a near constant tremor to her fingers that barely ceases even as she presses pen to paper, scribbling notes and signatures on countless forms presented by countless people.

Her gaze is fixed dully on the newest expense report, now. The low orange light of her lamp flickers in the lenses of her glasses; fire dances on a matt black backdrop over her left eye, where the patch is strapped firmly in place. Her right is half closed, exhaustion pulling at the lid, the skin beneath is puffy and bruised deep purple. Her lips, dry and cracked, shift almost imperceptibly as she mouths the words on the page, reading quickly, scratching her signature where needed and flipping to the next page.

"There's food," he says, leaning his hip on the corner of the desk. "Stew, and the brats hid some bread from Sasha. Go eat something."

"In a minute," Hange mumbles. Levi huffs, and pinches the top of the quill, plucking it out of Hange's grasp. It's a testament to her exhaustion, that her fist keeps the motion of writing for a second too long before realising she is no longer making a mark on the paper. With a tired sigh, she sits back, and levels her tired gaze on Levi.

"In a minute," she says again, holding her hand out for the pen. "Let me finish these first."

"Eat. It'll still be here when you get back."

She looks very much like she wants to argue. Levi watches the way her brow creases in the middle, the way her eye pinches, narrowing at him, the way her hands ball into white-knuckled fists against her thighs. But she's tired. She is bone tired, and the righteous energy saps from her within seconds. She deflates, and brings a hand up to rub at her eye, knocking her glasses up to her forehead as she does.

Levi almost wishes she had fought with him instead. There's a terrible, gnawing guilt, seeing her like this--seeing the way the weight of his choice bears down on her. Hange is a worthy Commander, of that, Levi is certain--Erwin never would have chosen her if he didn't believe the same.

But things have changed. The world has changed. And what it means to be Commander of the Survey Corps has morphed into something unfathomable larger and more complex than what it was before. It is unchartered territory, and Hange has been thrown into waters black and bottomless.

Hange pushes her bangs back from her face with both hands. The hair, limp with grease, sticks in place, and even Hange seems surprised, pulling her hands back and looking almost curiously at her palms.

"Huh. Its been four days."

"Since?"

She gives him a look, then, and there's a flash of something old and familiar in her eye. She quirks the corner of her mouth in a grin.

"Since I bathed."

Levi swiftly raises his arm, and Hange flinches, but the curled fist that thunks atop her head is almost gentle. She blinks up at him in surprise.

"Disgusting. I'll hose you down after you eat."

-----------------

Hange sits cross-legged in the tub, while Levi's fingers scrub soap suds into her scalp. The bathroom is mostly dark, save for the flicker of lamplight and the pale, foggy glow from the moon through the window.

She is quiet while he cleans her. She had eaten some food, though not as much as he would have liked; sipped at the stew and picked half heartedly at the bread the kids had painstakingly secured. It was better than nothing, but Levi finds his gaze travelling from the top of her soapy head to her bony shoulders, and to the knotted curve of her spine. He can see the shift of her ribs beneath her skin, and when she obediently leans her head back for him to rinse the suds from her hair, he can see twin points of bone at her hips, the skin brutally bruised from the pressure of their belts.

Something unpleasant rolls in his gut.

"Turn around."

Hange does, twisting until she is facing him and re-crossing her legs. Levi dips a cloth into the warm bath water and begins the meticulous process of scrubbing her down, starting at her shoulders. Hange dutifully extends first one arm, and then the other, and it is while Levi is thumbing at the grime between her fingers that she hums, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her chin upon them.

"It's been a while," she says, voice soft in the quiet. Levi moves on to the next finger; Hange's hands, like his, are calloused across her palms and at the tips of her fingers, from years of using the triggers on the manoeuvre gear. They are rough, but her fingers are longer and thinner than his own, and limp in his hand like this, they look almost delicate.

Levi hums in question.

"Since we did this."

Levi makes another non-committal sound. Things have been hectic, since everything that happened at Shiganshina. A whirlwind of learning, adapting, planning, everything moving at such a dizzying pace that moments like this had been all but abandoned.

Moments of peace, of quiet; moments where the world falls still and time slows to barely a trickle, they are a rarity none of them have been able to afford.

Levi dips the cloth in the water and rinses the soap from Hange's hands.

"We've been busy," he says. You've been busy, is what he thinks, but his guilt would sit too far forward, if he said it like that; it would be too brazen, and he knows already that his apology is not what Hange wants to hear. He made his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences. There is no room for regret.

Hange sits back when Levi brings the cloth down over her chest, crossing her legs so he can wash over her belly and sides.

"It's nice," she says. "I forgot. How nice it was."

"For you, maybe," Levi says. He taps her knee, and Hange hook her leg out over the side of the tub. Levi adds more soap to the cloth and smooths it over her thigh.

Hange lets out a low chuckle. "Just another floor to mop for you, huh?"

"The floors don't get this filthy."

He is careful around her knee, where scar tissue from a recent wound is still forming. It is tender to the touch, he knows, but Hange makes no complaints when he touches it. She lets out a pleasant little groan when his fingers knead into her calves, toes curling.

Levi washes over her foot, then taps the sole, and Hange draws one leg back in and raises the other one, and the process starts again. It is methodical and familiar; strangely comforting, in the mess of everything. They've been battered with new information, faced with a world that is so vastly different from anything they had imagined before, burdened with the insurmountable task of exploring it, of finding their place in it--all of this new, all of this frightening.

But this; this is an old tale. They have danced this dance for years, muscle memory leading them in each step. Shiganshina changed some things--Levi is more gentle in places than he used to be, careful cleaning the thickened, still healing skin on her back where Bertolt's titan had burned her. He used to dump water over her head like a dog, bit back smiles at the way she would cough and sputter and stare indignantly through her hair at him, but now is he careful to keep water from dripping into her bad eye. He slides the cloth over her face with more consideration, avoiding too much contact with the tender tissue above and below her clouded, milky eyeball. The swelling has lessened considerably over time, but the wound will remain raw for a long while to come.

When he is done, he helps her stand, and rinses her down with a pale of clean water before offering a hand to help her step from the tub. Standing up to full height, Levi can see the extent of the way her body has changed. She has always been a rake of a thing, all straight lines and sharp edges, but she has always seemed strong and sturdy. Something steady, dependable.

Now, she seems fragile in a way Levi has never known her to be. There is no room left for her to bend; too much pressure, and he fears she will snap, splinter into a million pieces he cannot hope to fit back together again.

He holds a towel for her. Hange takes it with a small, grateful smile, and wraps it around herself, then leans back against the edge of the tub and bows her head. Levi scrubs at her hair with a second towel, ringing as much water from it as he can.

She dries herself half heartedly and pulls on the spare shirt Levi had brought for her while her back and shoulders are still damp. The fabric sticks to her, highlights the protruding bones of her spine when she bends over to tug on her pants.

Once fully dressed, Hange stretches, popping her back as she does, and rolls her shoulders, her neck. She gives Levi a lazy, pleased smile.

"I needed that," Hange says. Levi clicks his tongue.

"I know. You stank."

Hange laughs, a light, airy thing.

"Always so kind, Levi," she says tunefully. She seems loose, more relaxed than Levi has seen her in what feels like forever. Her shoulders sit lower not bunched up about her ears, and her face isn't so pinched or strained. It's a relief.

It's short lived.

"I should get back," she says.

"You should sleep."

She shrugs a shoulder at him, waves a hand.

"Later," she says. Even as she speaks, Levi can see the tension rising in her; the respite of a bath and a hot meal had been brief, and already the weight is reloading. Her burden grows heavier by the second.

"A few hours, Hange. The paperwork will still be there when you wake up."

"And there will be more, no doubt," she says. "I'll get further behind than I am already."

There is no more room for negotiation. Levi can only count himself lucky that he managed to get this far with her, to do this much. He schools his face into a neutral expression and nods, scooping to pick up her wet towel and dropping it into the laundry basket as he follows her out of the bathroom.

Levi refuses to regret his choice. He made the right decision in Shiganshina, and he will not doubt himself for that.

But the tight, nauseous knot in his stomach does not ease. He watches Hange settle back into her desk chair, strap her eye patch over her still-damp hair, and bow herself over the pile of papers she had abandoned on the desk, and the sickening unease swells to his chest, pushing the air from his lungs.

He made the choice to condemn Erwin to death. He will do everything he can to ensure he has not done the same thing to her.

---------------

Thank you again for the ask!! If anyone else has prompts, please feel free to send them :) I can’t promise I’ll fill everything, but it’s a fun exercise

#levihan #snk #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #thank you so much!! i really enjoyed doing this one ;;#i like anything that lets me just gratuitously describe....anything #asks

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fowl-fox · 3 years

Note

I know I keep asking you all these random questions, but- in AF, it always irked me that we never learned about Fowl Sr.’s return to Fowl Manor, given that he was recovering from being in a coma (I know his amputation sight would have been healed by then, but I don’t think he would have been strong enough to walk on a prosthetic for a while- he probably used crutches for a bit). Like... what was that like for the Fowls. I know that the books never go into it, but I would have hoped that it was a brief period of the Fowl Family being just... happy to be together again, even as they were having to dramatically restructure their lives again to adjust to the head of the family being home again, especially for Tim and Angeline. Any thoughts or headcanons or what-not?

Ask as many questions as you like! (That goes for anyone else as well.) It gets my brain going and motivates me to start writing things. Also sorry this took a bit, I've got medical crap going on rn.

As usual, I'm gonna toss this under a Read More, because boy, did this get long, I apologize. And I'm going to warn you, a lot of this delves into how I feel about Artemis' relationship with Tim and Angeline overall. But it's those feelings that drive most of my headcanons, so I feel like it's best to talk about them.

Let's start with Artemis Sr. and his state of being after rescue. I'm gonna pull some quotes from my copies of The Arctic Incident and The Eternity Code throughout my pondering, please bear with me.

At the beginning of TAI, we're given a laundry list of ailments Fowl Sr. has when he's dragged out of the water in the beginning of the book:

"Though the man's clothes were relatively intact, his body had not fared so well. His bare hands were mottled with frostbite. One leg had been snapped below the knee, and his face was a horrific mask of burns."

"He'll lose that leg for sure, (...) A couple of fingers, too. That face doesn't look too good either."

When it's Holly's turn to drag Fowl Sr. out of the water, his heartbeat is dangerously low, due to deadly cold water. We know she kept him alive, healed the chest wound caused by the blunt force of the shell Butler shot him with, as well as a blinded eye that wasn't mentioned previously, but we're not really told anything else, which I suppose leaves it up to our imaginations as to what ailments he's left with.

We know he lost his leg, but did he lose some of those frostbitten fingers? Frostbite doesn't fuck around (Mayo Clinic link, if you'd like), and while it's not mentioned, it would be likely his captors would have had to amputate a few of those as well, to prevent the dead tissue from eventually killing their meal ticket. His face was severely burned from the explosion, how extensive was the scaring after everything was said and done? We know magic can heal scars if that's what the magic is told to do, but Holly probably wasn't worried about that in the moment, and she makes this statement:

"I got him," she gasped, "One live Mud Man. He's not pretty, but he's breathing."

So even with Holly doing what she could, it sounds like Fowl Sr.'s condition was still really rough. Rough enough to need prolonged medical attention. He'd spent nearly two years in a coma before waking up in Murmansk, and the ordeal of his rescue was enough to throw him back into a coma, as we're told in The Eternity Code.

Except wait a minute. In Artemis Jr.'s diary excerpt, we're given some information that contradicts the previous book.

"It had been over two months since Holly Short used her healing magic on his battered body, and still he lay in his Helsinki hospital bed. Immobile, unresponsive.

The doctor's could not understand it. He should be awake, they informed me. His brain waves are strong, exceptionally so. And his heart beats like a horse. It is incredible, this man should be at death's door, yet he has the muscle tone of a twenty-year old.

(…) Holly's magic has overhauled his entire being, with the exception of his left leg, (...) He has received an infusion of life, in body and mind."

(...) my father had no need of medical attention. He simply sat up, rubbed his eyes, and muttered one word: 'Angeline.'"

So now Holly's magic apparently healed everything but the lost leg? What?

I love the Artemis Fowl books, but I will always be a little frustrated with their inconsistencies. But you know what? It's great for giving yourself permission to play around with your headcanons. If Colfer changes what he wants when he wants, I certainly won't feel bad about doing it.

I'm going to go with the TAI and say that Tim was still in a really rough state after everything. Ignoring that supposedly his muscles were fine, he'd still have to learn how to walk on the prosthetic. And tbh, I'm just going to believe that his muscles weren't magically perfect. Maybe easier to build back than they would have been without the magical infusion, but there was definitely gonna be work involved. And that's ignoring probable mental trauma. He was in a coma for a large portion of his captivity, but there was a brief period of time where he was conscious, with captors that maybe couldn't kill him, but definitely didn't treat him well (though it sounds like he was being a difficult captive, but yeah, of course, he's a Fowl lol.)

(Detour Thought: My mental picture of Artemis Senior has always involved heavy facial scarring, especially on the side of his face where the damage was apparently bad enough to blind him.)

But to get back to your original inquiry (Jesus, Blue, I am so sorry at how badly I've dragged this out) I do like to think there would be a period of recovery and restructure that would involve the Fowls getting to be a happy family together. Great potential for a hurt/comfort fic, if you ask me.

I'm going to be frank, (and this opinion puts me at odds with the fandom at large, I know) - from my interpretations of the books overall, while Artemis certainly had a strict upbringing with parents who were usually busy and definitely irresponsible, I never got the sense that it was a loveless childhood. Nor did I ever get the sense that Artemis feared his father as a person, but rather that he feared disappointing him, which at no point are we told ever actually happened. I've read these books a million times, I've never found anything in them suggesting Artemis ever disappointed his father, nor that Tim was ever actually cruel to Artemis. Strict, yes. Overly formal? Definitely. But not cruel.

Now, the fact that he felt he had to jump through so many hoops to maintain his father's approval? Bad parenting, Tim. Also, don't encourage him to be a criminal mastermind, maybe. But also Artemis is an over-achiever by nature, which Tim just either didn't clue in on or more likely imo, thought it was in Artemis' best interests as an heir of a criminal empire to be that way.

Aside from Tim and Angeline later suggesting he try to be more 'normal' and let go of his criminal tendencies, and that one incident of Angeline pulling a guilt trip (all of which is a whole other thing I won't get into rn), Artemis' parents speak positively to and about him. I just honestly think they don't know how to be actual parents, which, being aristocrats, tracks. They function almost more like older siblings after TAI, really, which isn't exactly great, but it could be worse.

We know his father used to read to him regularly when he was little (ending with a kiss on the head, which I always thought was sweet) and we know that Angeline was always warm and available to him whenever possible (until her grief-stricken dementia set in.) Artemis has a moment of angst at how strict/formal his upbringing was compared to the twins, but overall he generally speaks positively of his parents, and he loved and missed them enough to risk his life several times for them. Even when he's frustrated by their joined presence making it harder for him to conduct criminal activities, he still misses them and thinks about them often when he's away from them.

Which yeah, that's what this all boils down to for me. Artemis just wants time with both of his parents, and Artemis Sr.'s recovery, in my headcannon, would absolutely allow for that time he so desperately wanted, deep down. Assisting in the physical recovery, using the down time to really talk and catch up (without mentioning his fairy adventures, of course.) It would be a drastic change and awkward to adjust to initially, but overall I think it would be good.

And as for Tim and Angeline? I think there would be of course the joy of being reunited with the love of your life, because Tim and Angeline are absolutely soul-mates. But I also imagine there were many, many conversations of regrets and questioning how to move forward as a family from this point. Angeline seems to defer to Tim as the one who makes decisions for the family as a whole, but she isn’t afraid to give her input. I bet they were scared, in a way, because not only has everything changed, but the future is uncertain. They have to restructure their whole life, and while overall the changes are positive, they’re not going to be easy.

I also feel like it would be difficult for Angeline in particular because while Tim returning is a joyful thing, she now probably has some self doubts. Why did she fall apart so tremendously, at the expense of not only her well being, but her son’s? While she isn’t the best parent, I imagine Angeline will always carry heartache about her time in the attic and how she forgot her own son. And to an extent I bet Tim does too, because it was his disappearance that triggered it.

And now I want to write a fic about all of this, which I guess I'll add to my pile of ideas I've been playing around with.

–

I'd definitely like to hear more thoughts on the matter from you if you have them!

#fowldom #artemis fowl #fowl senior #angeline #this is long #but i've put a lot of thought into this even before being asked #so here you go #headcanons

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divinefireangel · 3 years

Text

Reward

SF9 Dawon x F! Reader smut. 😋👅

I will sell my soul for this man 🥵

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Fantasy!!! I really enjoyed writing this lol. I hope you will enjoy reading this just as much 😏

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). This is legit porn without plot lol. I mean there is a lil plot at the beginning. Unprotected sex. Please never do this unless you actually want children. Lmk if I need to add more.

Requested: YES! My first actual request 🥺 ILY @mintysanghyuk

Hey! I hope you had a great day <3

I wanted to ask if I could maybe request a little one shot with Dawon where he helps you cleaning up your room and gives you a little "reward" afterwards? That's what I would definitely need rn 🥲🥺

Kinda messed up the request a lil lol 💀. Still I hope you like my lovely Theresa!

1487 words

"Babe. I love you. But... " Dawon stopped speaking contemplating whether he should continue his remark or not. Humming in question you looked up at him with your bright shiny eyes. Opening and closing his mouth, he stood in front of you awestruck by your beautiful face.

As though you were a mind reader, which you are when it comes to him, you knew exactly what he wanted to say. Realising that he didn't want to offend you, you couldn't help but let a knowing smile appear across your face.

"It's about my room isn't it? It's okay. I know it's been a while since I cleaned it. I'll tidy it up today! " You said jumping up and down on your toes. Giggling at his shocked and shy expression you lean up to kiss him on his plumpy cheek.

Moving around you started by picking up your clothes that were closest to you on the floor. Folding up the ones that could be worn without a wash and piling up the ones that need to be washed on your bed.

"Can I help in any way? " Startled by the sound of his voice you remembered he was standing right there.

"No no no. You go practice at the company. I got this. I'll text you about dinner?"

"Okay. I'll probably come back before you even finish cleaning. Maybe I'll help you then."

"Ha ha very funny. I'll do it really fast now. " You fire back at his sarcastic comment. Pushing him out the door you slap his bottom before shutting it.

Tying up your hair in a bun, putting on your playlist, you get to working while singing and dancing.

By the time you finish cleaning your room, you completely forgot to check your phone, thereby not knowing that Dawon will be coming back sooner than planned and also not knowing that he's at looking at you from the doorway of your room with a smug expression.

"Wow babe." He said startling you the second time today. He is very sneaky huh.

"You have to stop doing that!! I got scared." You said huffing.

"Aw I'm sorry. I'll carry a bell next time." Grinning at your exaspered expression he loops is hands around your shoulders, dragging them down till they are at the dip of your hip, he leans in to kiss you ever so sweetly.

"You cleaned it so well! I didn't even know you had a rug! "

Whining you try to get away from his grip, but alas your man is too strong. Laughing slightly he leans his head between the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. "Since you did so well, I want to give you a gift. A reward of sorts."

"Okay. What will you give me sir that you haven't already given me?" You ask, knowing full well what he means, tilting your head to a side to get a better look of his face.

"Oh it's nothing new you know. It's something we've done soo many times. Maybe a new position or even old one or I could just go down on you-"

Grabbling his face you kiss him with such sudden fire he doesn't respond at first. Slowly regaining himself he kissed you back and moved his hands to your butt cheeks, cupping and caressing them. Lifting you up from the ground he lays you on the bed without breaking the kiss.

"You still haven't said what you want. " He said kissing down your jaw and neck and slipping his hands from your butt through your hips to your stomach inside your shirt.

"I want you." You moaned fisting his shirt, a silent plea to get it off. Pushing you higher of the bed he gets on his knees near your legs and takes off his shirt with one hand. Biting your lip your stare boring into his eyes, you sit up to remove your shirt. Throwing it to the side you hold is body and lick his abs. Him working out so much really does pay off.

Moaning at your actions he stops you by lifting your face with his fingers. "You deserve a reward baby. I'll get mine later."

With that he makes you lay on your back as he continues kissing down your body, this time licking and biting the soft flesh on your chest. He free hand reaches the waistband of your pants and he tugs at it, seeking permission.

No matter how many times you do this, he is always so sweet and considerate. Whether he was going softly or a bit more rougher, he never fails to make your heart flutter with love when he does this.

Lifting your hips up in response, he takes off your pants and panties in one go. Whining when you noticed he's still more clothed than you, you tug at his belt and grind against his clothed length to get some friction to your wet and needy pussy.

Removing his belt and pants and boxers in a flash while you removed your bra, you both get naked completely. He bends your legs at your knees, places his hands at the top of your upper thigh and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Bending down between your legs, staring lustily into your eyes, he starts to kiss your lower abdomen, travelling lower and lower till you felt his sinful tongue lick the space near your clit.

Throwing your head back you moaned his name encouraging his to continue his actions. Placing a hand on his hair, you tug it slightly as he kitten licks your pussy to stimulate it. Crying when he licked harshly you pull his hair hard enough to make his moan, his moans adding to the pleasure he's giving you. Placing your other hand on your nipple, you twist it trying not to rub yourself against his mouth.

"Oh my gah- Baby I'm close! " Hearing your say this he stops all his actions. Whining in protest at the loss of contact, you open your eyes to his dark ones.

"Tell me if it's too much" He said. Taking your legs, placing them on each of his shoulder with his head in between them, he takes his hard cock and pumps it a few times. Placing the head of his dick at your entrance, he looks at your in question. Nodding vigorously you play with your breasts, knowing full well how much he enjoys the show.

Slowly he pushes his cock into your wet tight hole, both of you moaning at the feeling. After letting your adjust to his size a little, he started to move his hips, slower at first, and relentlessly fast after a few minutes. His pace rocking your body back and forth from your position on the bed, bouncing your boobs, arching your back. The pleasure almost being too much, so much so you almost screamed his name. Crying in pleasure, whining and moaning out his name, not caring how loud you were. That only spurred him on more and more causing him to call out your name and groan in pleasure.

Your juices coat his cock, letting him move in and out of your easily. Stopping for a moment, he removes your legs from his shoulders putting them on the bed as he bends down to kiss you, supporting himself on his forearms. Starting to move again, this time taking an even more faster speed, he chases both your orgasms. You can't help but squeal and scream because of him now. As he moves a hand to massage your clit, to add to the thrill, you move your palms to his back, digging your nails into it leaving crescent shaped marks.

Kissing you on the lips, swallowing your moans, you move your body with his to try and meet in the middle. Squeezing your legs around his waist as your final warning you cum on his cock, clawing at his back and biting his shoulder as he rides your out of your orgasm. Rubbing your clit gently he feels you clench your walls around him, finishing himself off with that, he cums into you.

His head falls onto your shoulder as you both regain your breath. Hugging him close to your body you kiss his temple, stroking his back, trying to soothe the pain from the marks you made.

"I love you" You said.

"I love you too. You're just, really really hot when you work." He said smiling into your shoulder.

Giggling you lift his face up to kiss him one last time before wanting to get up. He groans as he pulls out his cock from your entrance. Standing at the edge of the bed again, he helps you get up. Picking up the new mess of clothes, he tosses them in the laundry pile.

Hearing the shower water running, Dawon enters the bathroom.

"Can I join?"he asks. Grinning you let him join you in the shower.

#sf9 #dawon x reader #sf9 dawon #lee dawon #dawon #dawon smut #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #sf9 smut #lee sanghyuk #lee sanghyuk smut #sf9 x reader

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bitch-butter · 3 years

Text

(Modern!AU Webgott idea. Longish? Will eventually be called true bluish light. Tell me if this is interesting lol

Rated C for mentions of Joe's poor COVID protocol)

* * *

The blackout curtains that hung over the single window in the somewhat narrow bedroom were intensely effective, shrouding the occupants of the bed in a heavy darkness that even the daylight outside could not permeate. The still potent smell of sex lingered over the room, sweat and saliva and everything else casting a gross and homey aroma over the rumpled sheets and discarded clothing along the floor. Just around the edges of the curtain was a thin, white glow, but beyond that absent suggestion of light the room remained dark and still, as though nobody was there at all.

Pulling in a deep breath, Joe admitted he really shouldn’t have been there.

Shouldn’t have stayed the night, at least, if anything for the sake of his own reputation. He’s not typically one to go full spoons with a stranger (or, practically a stranger) no matter how good the sex had been, and he’s definitely never been one to spend the night somewhere that is not his bed. He’s spent years crafting his bed, has read actual magazine articles about how to create the best, most comfortable space, and after many years of hard work he is lucky enough to have created what many have called the Coziest Place in America. Suffice it to say, he does not like to spend a night in someone else's bed and he doesn’t think he needs to apologize for it.

This bed isn’t the worst, though.

And the guy that came with it wasn’t the worst either, he had to say. Joe had been ready to delete the app that led him to this guy and his bed, but it’s funny what a ‘ping’ on a lonely Friday night after nearly a year of no sex could do. Turns out that celibacy has made him into a fucking cuddler.

He’s not all that sorry about it. Keeping his distance from contact with other humans has handily prevented him from catching COVID thus far, and not everybody in his circle can say the same thing, as Tab had caught it first out of all of them via an ill-timed jaunt to Miami and Lip had had it twice now by virtue of his shoddy lungs and over-eagerness to lend a hand to people in his building. But a year is long, and half a bottle of cold Kim Crawford accomplished a lot at diminishing his capacity to give a shit about anything other than getting some attention on his dick. As long as the guy had sworn he tested negative, which he had, and Joe himself had tested negative, which he was, he saw no reason not to waltz into a total strangers apartment to merrily screw for as long as they both could stand to.

And it turns out this guy can stand a lot.

Joe has to admit at least half the reason he spent the night was that he actually was exhausted by the sheer voracity of their fucking. They oughta hand out medals for this shit, or something.

He finds himself smiling as he lets his mind wander over their earnestly passionate exploits of just a few hours past, and proceeds to let his eyes linger on the form of his companion. Though the room outside the warm enclosure of the blankets is a little cool the guy has one bare leg stretched out along the sheets, pressed up tightly against Joe’s own blanketed legs, with the remaining covers bundled against his chest. Resting mostly sideways on his belly, his face is turned towards Joe in sleep, mashed into the pillows and yet somehow managing to look as effortlessly gorgeous as he had looked in his photos on the app. His body moves with deep breaths, the steady inhale and exhale in combination with the sheltering warmth of the blanket nearly lulling Joe back to sleep.

Nearly.

He needed to get up, at the very least to find his phone and check the time. As carefully as he could he extracted his body from the tangle of covers, stepping lightly onto the carpet with his eyes on the other guy's face all the while, mindful not to disturb him. The night before he hadn’t even bothered to check his messages before passing out, and as such headed straight for the amorphous blob of his pants that rested just a foot away from the bed, crouching and reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone.

He hadn’t told Babe where he was going, as he’d only gathered the stones to go circa 11p.m. and he figured Babe was either asleep or performing his Getting Ready to Fuck routine and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. He almost feels sorry for Babe, who had loved the idea of dating a future doctor until this year when the sexiness of it was side-swiped by the actual danger the position entailed. As such, the Getting Ready to Fuck routine had an extra layer of manic energy to it, and Joe knew better than to try and pull Babe’s attention away from the hours preceding Gene’s rare, rare, rare visits to the apartment.

Even so, the amount of message icons he was presented with was unexpected to say the least.

He raised his eyebrows, nearly humming in interest as he noted the time. Jesus Christ, these blackout curtains are really worth their salt if it was nearly noon.

Tapping into his messages, he found a trickle of anxiety rolling down his spine.

FRI AT 11:42PM

Babe

Hey where r u?

I gotta talk to you

SAT AT 12:00AM

Babe

Are you coming back?? Srs need to talk

Feb 5 12:00AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:02AM

Gene Roe

Hi Joe, it’s Gene. idk if i gave you my number?

Trying to get a hold of you, call/text when you get a chance

Thanks

SAT AT 12:20AM

C h u c k

Babe is trying to find you

Feb 5 12:30AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:50AM

Speirs Ron

Why am i getting texts at 12:45 at night asking me to find you?

Well, something is fucking happening. And he’s at least 100% sure he wants no fucking part of it because any drama that starts after 11p.m. is the drama of the goddamn devil.

Fighting not to heave an enormous sigh, Joe reluctantly acknowledges that he should pull his clothes on and get out of here if there really is an emergency in the vicinity of his roommate. Looking back over his naked shoulder Joe tries to catch a glance at the guy in the bed, at the length of his bare leg in the semi-darkness, and the angle of his shoulder protruding from the blankets where he curled. He’d happily get back in that bed and go another round or five.

As though alerted to Joe’s presence by the cosmos, his phone begins buzzing in his hand. Huffing in annoyance, he attempts to reject the call at least until he can get out of the room, but throws himself off kilter and bangs his elbow into the bedside table, jostling a glass of water and a pile of paperbacks.

“Shit,” he curses, grasping at his elbow and shooting a glance back to the guy, whose eyes are already open and alerted to the noise.

Damn it.

The guy blinks slowly, bleary, for a moment before pulling his face from his pillows and angling up onto his side. “Hi,” he greets softly, running a hand through his mussed hair.

“Hi,” Joe nods back, grimacing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The guy shakes his head, looking for all intents and purposes like he means it. “Not at all,” he sniffs, meeting Joe’s eyes in the darkness with a still-sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“Oh man, it’s like noon.”

Furrowing his brow, the guy nods back before shooting Joe a wry smile. “We tired ourselves out, huh?”

Joe laughs, seeing his phone light up in his hand with a new message. “Speak for yourself.”

At the interested quirk of the other man’s brow Joe hastily gives a shake of his head and stands. “I’ll get out of your hair quick, no worries, just be a minute.”

The guy frowns, sitting up in the bed to let the blankets pool around his hips, hands coming to rest between his legs. “Oh, well, don’t feel like you have to.”

Joe pauses, pants in hand. “Oh, it’s not -”

“I mean, if you want to go then for sure, but like…” the guy waves a hand, pursing his lips before smiling and coughing out a laugh. “Are you hungry? I have eggs, I can make you something before you go.”

He hesitates, eyes pivoting from the guy, to his phone still in his hand, and back to the guy and his open, expectant face. After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, I could eat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could, could you?”

The guy smiles, and even in this mostly dark room Joe can see he has dimples and has to hold himself back from practically swooning, cursing his half-drunk self of the night prior for not remembering exactly how attractive this guy was. “I could use some coffee, is what I can use,” he says, stretching his arms over his head, and Joe is treated to the sight of his bare, bitten up chest. Usually he doesn’t take much notice of his partner's body hair, but as he lets his eyes trace over the guy's chest and legs as he moves to stand he finds himself clearing his throat and getting a little warm along his neck.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he responded distractedly, pulling his eyes away from the luscious sight of the guy's ass as he bends to retrieve his underwear and instead moving to put his own on. After a second thought he pulls on his shirt as well; might do him some good if he finds himself flushing up at just a glimpse of this guy's ass.

As he slips his shirt over his head, the guy turns to him with a bit of a sheepish look on his face. “Can I admit something?” he asks, lips scrunched.

Joe pauses, still grasping the hem of his shirt. “What?”

“I…” he starts, before chuckling somewhat awkwardly. “I don’t totally remember your name...”

A fair bit of relief surges through him at that, and Joe finds himself huffing out a laugh of his own, and adds another one at the half-embarrassed and half-expectant smile the guy gives him. “Can I admit something back?”

“What?”

“I don’t remember yours either.”

The guy's eyes widen minutely, before he tips his head back and laughs, nodding gently as he rubs a hand over his face. “Is it bad manners to say that’s a relief?”

“I think it’s alright as long as neither of us care,” Joe said, pushing his hair back, before stepping up to the guy and extending a hand. “I’m Joe.”

The guy grasped his hand in a sure grip. “David,” he replied with a little shake of their hands, before leaning in and pressing a dry kiss to Joe’s cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

Joe turned his face into David’s, catching his lips in a tender, if chaste, kiss. “Nice to meet you.”

#webgott #modern!au #it's my personal hc that joe not only loves to be in bed but is Very particular about it #mentioned:baberoe #this AU sponsored by Kim Crawford

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taystarotoverload · 3 years

Text

❂ 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 ❂

{Updated from my first ever post on here}

Hi, i’m Taylor :) I like for people to prefer to my nickname Tay though, because i’m more comfortable with that! <3

I’m a tarot reader who’s been reading for over a year now, i’m still not the greatest at it, but i’ve gotten much better than when i first started! lol

My zodiacs are pisces sun - libra moon - aquarius rising

incase anyone was wondering :)

I read for singers, actors, and i read personally for free!

Most of my content i’ve posted is Kpop related since it’s popular among my followers! Feel free to drop by my inbox to request a reading over anyone though, i’m open to any and all genres!

My Do’s and Don’ts ❂

Do:

- Send me feedback or just drop by my inbox or messages! I love finding new mutuals; and new anons :)

- Rant! If you ever need to blow off some steam, or get your mind off of it, i have an open inbox, messages, and anon set up!

- Send Request! Make sure to read my tarot piles to understand what I do, but you can request for readings over people!

- Be nice! I try my hardest to get readings out to everyone, I hate being rushed since it causes me to lose focus quickly… please be nice when requesting or messaging!

{i’ll probably add more soon}

Dont;

- Send inappropriate or rude ask! I don’t tolerate hate at all, and you will be immediately blocked and ignored. please keep my page pg13, unless i put a warning for 18+ that will be the time… but i want this to be very tame.

- Spam! Please please please, don’t spam my inbox or messages! i will possibly get to your reading, but continuously sending it or spamming will make me ignore it :/

(unless i ask for you to spam!)

- Ask me about my age or personal info! I’ve stated that will not be disclosed unless absolutely necessary, I want to keep that stuff private! please understand :)

{I’ll probably add more soon}

I do frequent ask games, pendulum, and PAC’s! It helps pass time from my other readings :)

Don’t be afraid to interact! I love when i get commets and reblogs, makes me feel very happy!! <3

I do not tolerate hate of any kind. try any of that on my page and you’re reported and blocked.

#tarot #wicca #astrology #natal #natal chart #kpop #kpop tarot #tarot community #spiritual #spiritual community #taystarotoverload

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Are We There Yet

Hey look it’s losleep that might be *knocks on wood* actually somewhat short? I’m doing these prompts way out of order because I’ve accepted that I won’t finish them so I’m just doing the ones that call my name.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! You can find this fic on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: The temperature of your chest gets hotter when you are closer to your soulmate and colder when you move further away. 

Pairing: QPR Losleep.

Words: 6856

Warnings: self-deprecation, food mention, arson mention, death mention, sleep deprivation, minor injury, swearing, hypothermia kind of, and this whole thing could be read as a metaphor for touch starvation

Remy is not clingy.

Okay? Okay.

He doesn’t need anybody. Sure, it’s nice when Logan holds his hand, pretty cool when Logan kisses his cheek, but if no? Remy’s fine with that. He made it like twenty-something years without the boi, after all. Besides, physical affection is ew. He only puts up with it ‘cause Logan likes it.

And if sometimes he flops into Logan’s lap and whines about work until Logan plays with his hair, that’s to annoy his babe. Not because he likes it.

And if he always sticks close to Logan? It’s because Logan drives the cold away.

Which is also not a problem. Remy likes being cold. He’s a frozen dream-come-true, a cool and collected boi, a chill and fabulous being. He’s got his jacket if things get too bad.

Besides, again, he made it twenty years without warmth.

(Twenty pretty fucking terrible years, if he’s honest, but just because he’s half-delirious sometimes from the feeling of being warm doesn’t mean he needs to be desperate about it.)

He’s not desperate. He’s not clingy. He does what he wants and his stupid partner doesn’t control him.

Remy’s not clingy, and Logan’s going away this week, and it’s fine.

“I’ll be back soon,” Logan promises for the fifth time. “You can call me if you need anything, and there’s extra groceries in the fridge, and the keys are by the door--”

“Babe, I’ll be fine.” Remy rolls his eyes. “Tbh, I think you’re more nervous about this than I am.”

“I’m not nervous,” Logan argues, although the way his eyes flicker around says otherwise. “Remember to turn off the stove, and--”

“Darling.” Remy gives Logan a kiss on the nose and enjoys the way Logan flushes and wrinkles his nose. One year of being partners and Logan still stammers under affection. Clearly, Remy needs to give him more.

(It’s just for the reaction, though. It’d be fine if Logan didn’t want kisses. Remy wouldn't sulk.)

“Starlight,” Remy says, placing another kiss on Logan’s cheek for good measure, “my good bitch, I’m capable of managing one week without burning the house down.”

“I know, I know.” Logan gives him a small smile. “I’m just--I wish you could come with me.”

“Plane tickets are fucking expensive,” Remy says, “and I’d rather go broke buying espresso than flying in some tin death trap, ‘kay? Go do your conference thing. It’ll be fine--I’ll hold down the fort.”

Logan frowns. “What fort?”

“Expression, honey.” Remy gives Logan one more kiss because he can’t help himself (but he’ll be fine without these for a week, of course.) “Good luck, show those assholes what you’re made of.”

“They’re hardly assholes.” Logan touches his forehead to Remy’s and Remy does his best not to melt in the warmth. “You’ll really be okay without me?”

“Of course,” Remy says, grinning. “My life will go on without you. I’m not that clingy.”

Something flashes over Logan’s face, but it’s gone before Remy can parse it. Logan gives him a final kiss and grabs his suitcases, pulling on a blazer that makes him look fucking stunning, in Remy’s opinion. Goddammit. Logan’s wasting his hella fine looks on some conference assholes when he could be here with Remy, sipping coffee and making fun of every episode of Gilmore Girls.

Well. What the hell does Remy care? He really does get that Logan needs to go to that conference, since Mr. Serious Professor is the only real income-giver in the household. Remy’s just a layabout who pays meager rent only on months when the coffee shop doesn’t fully fail.

He has no idea why Logan chose Remy, of all people, because he figured professor-types ought to stick together.

(He knows why. They’re soulmates. Without each other, they’re cold as ice, and tbh, Remy gets it. Logan would rather be with a mess than freezing to death. Fair enough. Still, it hurts, knowing you could be replaced with a fucking space heater.)

Logan gives Remy a little wave, and Remy gives him a cocky smile in return, adjusting his sunglasses and already planning the five-shot espresso he’s gonna use to drown his feelings.

Just one week.

This is gonna be fine.

Remy circles the end of the week on his calendar, once, twice, three times. Just so he’s not surprised. Sometimes time slips away around him and he’d like to be clothed when his partner shows up again.

He spends the rest of the evening watching TV. He heats up some macaroni, burns his tongue on it, and eats two brownies because why the hell not? It’s only like nine when he’s done, but the apartment is eerily empty. Logan’s usually busy with grading these evenings, face lit by his laptop, and Remy teases him and passes him some coffee and pulls him to bed when he’s really wrapped up.

Remy runs his hand idly over the spot where Logan usually sits.

Ugh. This is setting him on edge. He doesn’t like empty places and he has the urge to yell just to fill up the pockets of silence.

Remy makes himself one coffee. He shouldn’t. If Logan were here, he’d chide Remy and say Remy needs to sleep soon. Remy dangles his coffee mug in midair but Logan doesn’t catch it. ‘Cause Logan’s not here.

Duh, Remy, what’d you expect?

Remy chugs the coffee, tosses the mug in the sink, and tells himself he’ll clean it tomorrow.

He curls up in bed and stays on his phone until midnight. As the night wears on, he grows colder and colder. He pictures Logan flying on a plane to somewhere else, maybe sleeping with some stupid sleep mask on, his hair all messy and his glasses in his hands.

Remy’s phone vibrates.

If you’re still up, go to sleep.

Logan signs the text with a blue heart. He always does. Remy has done his goddamn best to teach Logan how emojis actually work, but Logan insists that words are “a highly more productive and lucid way of communicating.”

He always adds a heart though. Says it’s a quick way to remind Remy that he loves him.

Logan’s such a fucking sap sometimes.

(Remy ignores the fact that he’s smiling at his phone like it’s his firstborn child.)

lol hypocrite smh, he decides to write back.

I, at least, have the excuse of jet lag. Get some sleep, dear, we can talk tomorrow.

Remy sighs and doesn’t ask him to stay. He really is tired. And he’s not desperate.

He tosses his phone onto the nightstand and pulls his blankets up to his shoulders.

He’s cold.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he wakes up and he’s still cold. Damn, the universe is a bitch.

Rubbing his arms and swearing, Remy stumbles into the kitchen and fumbles for the espresso machine. He tosses a good morning behind him and then remembers Logan’s not here. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes himself.

He’s not gonna think about Logan right now.

Besides, Remy could use this alone time! Right? He’s always complained about Logan getting in his personal space.

(It’s a joke. It’s a joke and Logan always sees right through it, and Remy hates it.)

Remy nods to himself. He gets dressed in his usual jacket and pulls it tighter around him, as if clothes can get rid of the cold in his chest.

He takes a sip of coffee, pulls on his sunglasses, and gets ready to face the day.

His first shift goes okay. A bunch of couples come in, giggling and blushing, and Remy can tell the newest ones from the way they cling to each other’s arms. He fucking hates the universe sometimes. Depending on how sensitive a soul is, the cold can mess with people good. Some people never find their soulmate and freeze inside and out, unable to fix it, suffering from a cold that physically doesn’t exist. It’s all in their head, or their soul, to be sentimental about it.

Soulmates are bullshit if they hurt someone for not being there enough.

And being forced to be with someone...there are problems. Remy’s heard the stories. Seen the tears. Soulmates might be “made for each other” but sometimes shit happens, and the problem is nobody can leave that mess, because soulmates and because going from warm to cold is terrifying.

(Even for the relationships that work out--like Remy’s--there’s always the undercurrent of doubt. That it’s all about the temperature, the destiny, the expectations. And not about real love. Remy tries not to think about that.)

Still, watching the younger couples trade coffees and smile, Remy gets why everyone falls in love with the idea.

He spends his lunch break staring at his phone and hoping Logan will text him. Logan’s probably asleep--time zones, right? Plus the babe always gets conked out after plane rides.

Remy could text Logan, just to know. But it hasn’t been a day yet. He’s not gonna be needy.

He does his second shift, downs two espressos, and pretends the caffeine rush eclipses the cold settling into his bones.

He only grabbed a bun for lunch, so for dinner he cooks up some chicken. Then he watches more TV. Without realizing it, he grabs several blankets and pulls them around himself until he’s a blanket burrito. It’s warm. He almost falls asleep right there but manages to drag himself to bed, because an annoying voice in the back of his brain told him Logan would be mad if Remy stayed on the couch all night.

What does it matter, though? Logan isn’t here.

Remy still goes to bed.

He piles a quilt on top of his shoulders. The weight drowns him and he drifts off to sleep.

He only wakes up once.

Logan is texting him. Remy fumbles for the phone, ridiculously excited.

I hope you are well. Talk to you tomorrow morning, if you are willing.

Remy swallows and texts back sure.

Too quick? Too desperate? Nah, Logan likes punctuality, and anyway, it says he hasn’t read the text. He probably sent it, turned his phone off, and went to sleep. Logan’s responsible like that.

Remy watches his phone for a few more seconds, sighs, and turns it over. It takes a while for him to go back to sleep.

Day two and day three are a blur. He crosses the days off on the calendar, resolving to burn it before Logan sees. He’s run out of espresso so he makes a quick trip to the grocery store. They’ve turned the air conditioning on, even though it’s fall. Remy shivers his way through the aisles. He buys Logan’s favorite ice cream without thinking and sticks it in the back of the freezer. He’ll be here in four days, after all.

Remy bites his lip, pulls on his jacket, and goes back outside.

He goes to Logan’s favorite bookshop. The door tinkles when he opens it. At least this place isn’t air conditioned, though Remy still shivers, remembering all the afternoons when Logan dragged him here. He heads for the astronomy books and runs his fingers down the shelves. He has no idea what book to get. Logan’s the smart one. Remy’s just the bitch.

He buys a few books. They have space on the cover so Remy figures Logan’ll tolerate them. It costs like twice his week’s paycheck. Remy tries not to be salty about it. It’s not like Logan’s forcing him to buy this stuff. He did it himself.

Why, he’s not sure.

It’s only when he’s walking home with a bag of books and swilling the dregs of his coffee around when he realizes he’s gonna have to find a why. He’ll have to explain to Logan why he impulse-brought the babe some books. And he’ll have to make it somehow sound not-pathetic.

Well, that’s a problem for Future Remy.

Present Remy sticks the books in a closet--is that where books go? He usually just reads cafe menus--and cooks up some fried rice for dinner. All boxed, of course. It tastes like crap. He wonders if he should buy takeout tomorrow, but he just spent a bunch of money on fucking books, so maybe not.

He takes the books back out of the closet. He slips them into place on Logan’s shelves. They’re probably out of order. Logan has a wack organization system. But they look at home on the shelf, and none of the titles seem to be repeats, so that’s cool.

Remy takes a deep breath. They smell like paper, duh. Paper and leather and Logan, just a bit. Or maybe Logan smells like books.

Okay, now that’s pathetic. Remy backs away from the bookshelf. Why’d he even buy those stupid things?

(Because he can imagine Logan did. Because that bookstore reminded him of Logan and he feels like he could summon Logan with his favorite things. Like Logan is a demon or something. Well, tbh, he is a demon if his ability to recite the periodic table is any indication. Also, demons are pretty. And Logan is unfairly pretty, with fluffy hair and dark eyes and a little scar on his cheek and a dip in his chin.)

Remy sighs and watches a bit of TV. He turns it off soon enough because the words slip through his brain and leave no trace behind. Then he grabs the vacuum and turns it up.

He never vacuums. Logan does the cleaning and the cooking. Remy does the...lounging about? And the complaining. Logan also fixes anything that’s broken. Remy--well, maybe he does the errands? He does the errands. It’s not much, though, and it suddenly hits him how much Logan does every day. He’s got a full-time job teaching some college babies how to spell, and he still cooks dinner every night.

Remy narrows his eyes, rolls up his sleeves, and vacuums.

It’s loud. Plus he can’t remember which attachment goes on the carpet and which on the floor. So he might be doing more damage than help here. But fuck it.

When he’s done, he shoves the vacuum back into the closet. Then he grabs the laundry basket and does the laundry. He gets detergent on his jacket, which is not cool, and then he has to fold the fucking laundry. Remy looks up how to fold stuff. He’s pretty sure he’s made everything wrinkly, and some of the clothes didn’t fit in the drawer so he had to smush them.

As an apology, he washes the sink. It’s not bad. Then he washes the mirror--not bad--and the bathtub--worse--and the toilet--hell on earth. By the end of it, he feels like every bit of slime and muck has been transported onto his skin.

He takes a warm shower. He keeps turning the heat up because he forgets the cold inside doesn’t match his actual temperature, and he can’t help it because for a second, it’s like he’s actually warm.

The air is freezing when he steps out. He wraps himself in three towels, stumbles into his bedroom, and throws on two pajama shirts and some extra-fluffy socks. He feels like shit. He has no idea how Logan manages to do all this stuff.

His phone vibrates as he’s collapsing into bed.

If I’m not disturbing you, would you like to talk?

Remy snorts to cover up his huge smile.

hey babe

Greetings. how was your day?

p cool.

Remy pauses before adding: did some chores.

Really? That wasn’t necessary.

im still in this apartment so ye, it was.

That reminds me. Are the groceries running out?

Something twitches in Remy’s stomach. He doesn’t know why. What, did he expect Logan to comment? To thank him? To come flying back home because Remy cleaned the sink?

(Yes. Maybe. Hopefully. It isn’t about Logan’s approval--except it is. Remy wants to know he’s not a screwup. That he did something right. That Logan can ease up because Remy can help out more. And maybe it would make the cold in his chest go away, just a bit.)

Remy sighs.

course not. it’s been like three days

I was just checking. What are you having for lunch?

already had it. it’s like midnight over here

Oh. Apologies. I’ll let you get some sleep.

Remy could say no. He could say stay with me. He could say nah, I’m bored, let’s chat.

He’s not clingy, though.

night babe

Goodnight.

Remy doesn’t even bother putting his phone away. He plugs it in and holds it next to him. It’s warm. And with the many blankets piled up on top of him, he can almost pretend Logan’s there, a fire that sears him inside and out.

He barely sleeps.

Day four is rainy. Remy usually asks Logan to drive him to work, so today he dashes down the sidewalk with an umbrella and curses wildly every time a drop of rain lands on his jacket. All the customers leave puddles on the floor. Remy has to mop them up.

He’s pissed. Pissed at nothing in particular, pissed at the customers who are all a little bit rude, pissed at the cold rattling in his chest.

(He’s more than halfway through the week and he’s barely managed to get this far. Pathetic.)

He chugs coffee right from the pot. It’s blistering hot and he can feel it trickle through him. He’s burning warm now and yet so, so cold. He bets he could burn to death and still feel freezing.

Goddammit.

Fucking soulmates.

Remy is cold. Remy is annoyed. Remy would like very much to go home.

And he gets his wish--because he slips on a puddle by the front door and his ankle skews out in a direction ankles should not go.

He’d try to stay and do his job, but his manager insists he should go home. He asks Remy if anyone’s picking him up. Remy shakes his head.

Remy should stick it out and get paid. Instead, he limps home.

His ankle isn’t swollen much, but it hurts like fuck to walk on, so he props it up on a table and watches TV. Maybe he should be doing more. He just got the afternoon off, after all. But he doesn’t fucking feel like it. So Logan can fight him.

Logan’s not here to fight him.

Ugh. Fuck Logan. Fuck soulmates. Fuck Remy’s stupid twisted ankle. Everything hurts and he wants to commit arson.

Maybe that’d warm him up.

He stays up most of the night. Logan doesn’t text him, or maybe he does and Remy doesn’t hear it over the TV. He doesn’t check. Fuck Logan. Fuck everything in the whole fucking world.

By the time it’s three in the morning, his ankle is still throbbing and he’s about to punch something.

He groans and burrows deeper into his mass of blankets. He’s still really, really cold. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking sensitive--some people feel the temperature super acutely, and Remy’s one of them. Usually he likes being acute, or, more accurately, a-cute piece of ass. This, though? This fucking blows.

Remy drifts in and out of a doze for the rest of the night. He dreams he’s sinking into a frozen lake and nobody’s there to help. He wakes up to the credits playing and his ankle sparkling with hot pain.

Hot pain that he almost doesn’t mind at this point, since it’s a respite from the cold.

Fucking soulmates.

Remy hopes Logan never comes back. He’ll just freeze to death sad and alone and that’d serve Logan right.

(He doesn’t mean that. He never does. Logan would probably be sad if Remy died. And Remy likes being alive. He’s just...he’s just unraveling right now, a snarled mess of red-hot wire in his head, burning his thoughts but never warming the rest of him.)

Remy pulls a pillow out of his head.

He feels like shit, everything’s on fire except cold, and morning is a long way away.

When morning comes, he calls in sick. Because he still feels like shit. Except the special kind of shit he always feels like after pulling an all-nighter. His back is stiff and his ankle throbs dully and his eyes itch. The TV stayed on all night. Remy wonders if that contributes to the electricity bill--Logan always handles that kind of thing.

Logan always handles everything.

Can Logan handle Remy? Well, so far, he’s done alright.

Remy’s hard to handle sometimes, though.

Like now. He’s pretty sure if Logan saw him right now, he’d finally give up on the idea of soulmates.

Remy eats some chips for breakfast, binges a few shows, and eats more chips for lunch. He’s still hungry. Apparently chips aren’t that filling. Bullshit. Chips should count as food.

He nods off mid-afternoon and sleeps through dinner. His stomach is growling when he wakes up. He barely notices, though. It’s the cold that he really feels. It’s like he woke up made of ice, and any movement will shatter his joints and send him crashing to the ground in a pile of frozen splinters.

Dramatic? Yes. Justified? Also yes.

He feels like he’s on fucking fire. Except it’s cold instead of warm and there’s no way to put the fire out.

It’s supposed to be just the chest, but it feels like his whole body. From the tips of his toes to his hair follicles to his eyelashes to his chipped nails. Every blood vessel in his body is frozen, every patch of skin is icy, and when he blinks, he’s surprised no frost comes off of his eyelids.

Fuck, it hurts.

Why does he have to be so sensitive? Why can’t he last one week without his soulmate? Why did the universe look at Remy and decide hey, that’s the bitch we should saddle with super fucking sensitivity to this soulmate shit, so he becomes a clingy bitch and drags everyone else down with him?

Remy works his way into a sitting position and grabs for his phone. An unanswered text from Logan lights up.

How are you doing?

I’m chilling, Remy writes back.

Which is technically true.

(And besides, no need to worry Logan. He can’t do anything about the situation right now, so whining about it would only make Remy look like a mess. Besides, Logan would probably be annoyed--annoyed that his soulmate can’t handle it, that his soulmate won’t shut up, that his soulmate is Remy who’s just entirely wrong for him in every single fucking way.)

Logan doesn’t answer the text. He’s probably busy or asleep.

Remy feels so, so cold.

He frantically searches up solutions for soulmate-induced chills. He has flashbacks to middle and high school, back before he found Logan, cold every morning. People complained he was faking it, that there was no way it felt that bad, and eventually Remy learned to stop talking about it. Later the doctors told him he was abnormally sensitive, and even later he found out that Logan lived miles and miles away.

It had all been kind of justified. But that didn’t make him feel any better.

And today it just makes him feel worse. Great. Five days without his soulmate and he’s slipping back into old habits. Five days without his soulmate and he’s curled up on the couch and trying to find a way to make the cold leave.

Needy? Yes. Desperate? Yes. Justified? Yes, but also, not really.

All the tips involve stuff Remy can’t muster up the urge to go and find. He settles for rubbing at his skin, his wrists, his sides and his knees. For a second there’s a bit of relief, and then gone. It’s like itchy mosquito bites--the moment he warms one patch of skin, another starts aching with cold.

And he’s still hungry. And his ankle still hurts.

Remy curls deeper in the blankets and imagines Logan, Logan pressing a kiss to his hairline, Logan running a hand down his side, Logan close to him and Logan warm, like a bonfire Remy can never touch. Logan is the fucking sun and Remy is a cold, distant planet, trying his damn hardest to get close but knowing he’s just a blip on the radar. Logan can light up the world on his own. Without Logan, Remy can’t do jack-shit.

Remy is spinning through the universe, and it is dark and cold and really, really lonely.

He tugs a blanket over his head and tries to sleep.

When he wakes up again, it’s day six, and his eyelids are stuck together and he wishes fervently for coffee.

He fumbles for his phone. Logan’s texted him. Remy can’t muster up a smile.

It’s a long text. A paragraph. Logan’s walking Remy through his day? Cute. Logan’s so cute.

Remy tries to read it, but his eyes slip closed again and his stomach rumbles and his ankle stings and maybe he’ll just sleep until Logan gets here again, maybe he’ll enter hibernation--

He should answer Logan’s text.

He should call a friend. He’s pretty sure he has some, though he can’t remember why.

He should--maybe he should call 911.

But nah.

Remy’s not clingy, right?

He’s fine.

The phone slips from his hand as he falls back asleep.

Remy’s heard, somewhere, that having hypothermia means you get really warm right before you die. The cold kills you without you even feeling it.

And he can’t die from this. But he does wake up warm and that’s probably not a good sign.

Remy grabs his phone and checks the time. It’s...twelve. Twelve on the day Logan’s returning--and he’s returning at three.

Fuck, shit, fuck--

Remy scrambles to his feet, every bone in his body groaning in complaint. He feels like he got run over by a truck and he probably looks that way, too. His stomach is growling and his hands are shaking and his ankle doesn’t hurt anymore but it also won’t move the way it’s supposed to. He grabs his sunglasses and pulls them on, checking his phone’s texts.

A few texts from his manager. Because yeah, he just missed two extra days of work without even calling the guy. Fuck. Remy’ll have to work overtime or it’ll come down to Logan to pay the bills, and Remy doesn’t want to be even more useless.

One text from Logan.

I’m on the plane. I can’t wait to see you!

Remy wishes the feeling was mutual.

He pulls on his jacket and takes a look around. The living room is a mess of blankets that drown the couch and spill out onto the floor. The TV is blinking--Remy must have sat on the remote. He thwaps the side a few times until it turns off. Maybe he broke it. Well, problem for Future Remy.

Remy bundles up most of the blankets and shoves them haphazardly into the closet. Then he grabs the chip bags and throws them out. He’s starving--he pulls out a yogurt cup and downs it, then makes himself a triple-shot espresso. It’s scalding hot and he almost feels warm drinking it.

He doesn’t feel warm.

He doesn’t feel cold, either.

He feels--well, he’s not sure how he feels. Better, maybe? He’s definitely less of a lump. But everything’s kind of numb and lukewarm and hazy, and his hands won’t stop trembling.

He makes himself another coffee, just for good measure.

The sun streams through the window. Standing in it usually warms Remy up--today it makes him feel cold. He steps into the shadows and they skate over him comfortably. Chilly and numbing and safe, and this is very worrying, and maybe he should call a doctor.

Eh, Logan’ll be back soon. So it’s fine.

Remy tries to remember everything he should do. He was gonna explain to Logan why he bought those books. And what happened to his ankle. And why he hasn’t texted back. And how shitty everything’s been--well, no, not that last one.

Right! Right. The calendar. Throw it out so Remy doesn’t look desperate.

Remy stumbles over to the calendar and tears it down. It’s only marked halfway to today, because he’d given up on crossing off the days, but it’s still irritating to see.

Logan will be here soon.

Remy’s phone vibrates.

Logan’s in the airport. He’s driving home.

For some reason, Remy’s heart starts to race.

(Because the apartment is a mess. Because there are more astronomy books than there used to be. Because Remy looks like a dead rat. Because he hasn’t gone to work. Because Logan will see this mess and realize what a mess Remy is without him.)

Probably, the coffee didn’t help. Remy still takes a sip of it because the familiar taste helps ground him.

Okay. Logan’s getting here soon. And Remy will be warm. And everything will be fine. Everything will be fine and Remy can explain things later, when he’s warm.

He can feel Logan in his chest. Maybe that's why he woke up so warm--because Logan’s near. Logan’s near, and Logan’s close, and this should be enough.

It’s not.

Remy’s still numb in his extremities and trembling in his hands. He’s growing warmer but not fast enough. Logan’s not here yet and it hurts.

(Desperate.)

Yeah, he’s fucking desperate.

He paces back and forth across the kitchen. Back and forth. Back and forth. The exercise sends little tingles up his legs. He’s lukewarm right now. And it’s almost as painful as the cold, being so close to warmth but not quite there, hanging in limbo.

Remy checks his phone again and again and again.

He doesn’t text Logan, though. That’d be really needy.

Time ticks on and Remy wonders if the world has frozen instead of him.

He wants to scream. He wants to throw open the door and run to wherever Logan is and collapse in his arms and never leave. He wants to be near Logan. He wants to be with Logan. He wants Logan to never leave.

He wants.

Remy paces and back and forth and wants, more than he’s ever let himself before.

He probably looks so pathetic.

Maybe Logan’s late. Maybe Logan’s stopping to get groceries. Maybe Logan got mugged, or maybe Logan just isn’t here yet because it isn’t time yet, and Remy’s waiting--

A key turns in the lock.

Remy almost drops his coffee. He scrambles for it and manages to slam it on the counter. Then he puts his arm next to it, stares at the window, and tries to look nonchalant.

The door opens.

Logan.

Logan, his partner, his starlight.

Remy wants to run to him and tackle him and never let him go.

“Oh, hey, babes,” he says instead, glancing at Logan. “Back already? Time flies.”

“Don’t mention flying,” Logan complains, closing the door behind him and rubbing his eyes. “My flight back was a nightmare.”

“Really? Spill the tea, babe!” Remy casually grabs one of Logan’s suitcases. “I’ll cut a bitch if they fucked with you.”

“It was a baby,” Logan complains.

“Oh, damn, can’t kill it, can I?” Remy leans in to give Logan a quick kiss on the cheek and veers away just as quickly. Logan is a furnace. Remy’s melting in the proximity and he wants to get far away and he wants to burrow into the center of the warmth and let it envelop him.

Logan gives Remy an odd look. Remy grins and takes another sip of coffee.

“How are you?” Logan asks, peeling off his jacket. “You didn’t text me back. Were you busy?”

Remy shrugs. “Busy, bingeing Riverdale, what’s the difference?”

“Riverdale is a ridiculous show.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Logan rolls his eyes and leans in to press a kiss to Remy’s forehead. “I’m glad to be back, dear.”

And Remy almost shoves him away.

He realizes the instant he’s done so that he’s made a mistake. Logan’s staring at him in open confusion and--oh no--a bit of hurt.

“Is something wrong?” Logan asks. His voice is way too soft.

(He’s too close. He’s too far. Remy is going to burn up from the pure kindness in Logan’s eyes because fuck is he clingy.)

“Remy?” Logan asks.

Remy’s gone too long without talking.

“’Course I’m fine, babe.” Remy laughs. “You must be tired, right? Jet-lag and all that jazz. C’mon, let’s put your stuff away.”

Logan gives Remy a searching look. “We don’t have to right away. We can...watch a movie? Or cuddle, if you’d like.”

“Nah, you’re probably exhausted.” Remy tosses his coffee into the sink and waves at Logan to follow him. “I’ll get your stuff and you can go to bed, it’s fine--”

“Remy,” Logan says.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Remy looks back. Logan’s eyebrows are pulled together and he’s almost glowing in the afternoon sun. He’s tired. Remy can tell. Bags are smudged under his eyes and his hair is rumpled up. (Remy would reach out and rumple it more if he dared to get any closer.)

So why is he still here?

“Lo,” Remy says, and it comes out softer than he wanted. “Talk later. Sleep now.”

“Talk now, thank you.” Logan steps closer and Remy steps back. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Remy protests.

“Are you?” Logan reaches for his hand and Remy pulls it towards his chest. “I--I apologize if I’m overstepping, I promise I didn’t mean to alarm you--”

Remy takes another step back. Logan’s too close and too warm and too--

His twisted ankle slips.

He falls towards the kitchen floor and braces himself.

Warm.

Searing warmth around his chest.

Logan caught him.

Logan caught him and is holding him upright, eyes wide, face inches from Remy’s own. Where his skin meets Remy’s skin? Fire. Explosions of fireworks and the warmth of a hot bath and Remy’s missed this. Fuck, he’s missed this.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks.

Remy opens his mouth to say something and doesn’t.

“I--” Logan moves to step back. “Apologies, I didn’t want you to fall--”

No.

Maybe Remy’s clingy, but no, Logan is not moving away.

Remy throws his arms around Logan’s shoulders and curls into him.

Logan makes a small noise before returning the hug, hand coming up to cup Remy’s neck. It sears his skin and Remy should be in pain. He’s not. He actually whines, turning his face into Logan’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dear,” Logan whispers. His hand rubs down Remy’s side and Remy shudders. “Could you tell me what’s going on?”

Remy looks up, and his whole body is warm, and he realizes far too late that he’s starting to cry.

“Oh." Logan looks absolutely terrified. “Remy, what’s wrong?”

Remy doesn’t know how to say absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. So he settles for clinging to Logan’s shirt and disappearing into the warmth again, letting Logan hold him, knowing soon he’ll have to pull away but unwilling to let soon be now.

“Remy, dearest.” Logan brushes a kiss over Remy’s forehead and Remy whines again, goddammit. “Please, I can’t help you unless you talk to me. Or if you’re not ready, at least--at least signal to me what I can do?”

Don’t let go.

Fuck, Logan, don’t let go.

“Sorry,” Remy mutters, and tries to force himself to move out of Logan’s arms. “I--sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Logan sounds even more confused and upset. “Remy, I’m very confused right now.”

“I--” Remy manages to scoot a little bit away from Logan. The cold hits him like a blast and he shivers. “Don’t mind me.”

Logan reaches out and catches Remy’s hand. He folds it in his own. Remy stares at it and looks up, and he realizes his vision is blurring. Shit. He’s crying over held hands--he really is pathetic.

“Remy.”

Remy almost gasps as Logan presses their hands to his chest. Remy can feel Logan’s heartbeat, fluttering under his fingers.

“Remy, please,” Logan insists. “I’m worried.”

“I--you--” Remy tries to roll his eyes. “I’ve just...missed you, is all.”

“Oh?”

“And it’s--” Remy shrinks into himself, looking away. “I’m not trying to be needy or anything. But it’s--y’know. It’s been kinda cold without you.”

“Oh.”

Remy stares at his feet, eyes stinging.

“Remy, dearest, please look at me.” Logan’s voice is unexpectedly soft. “You’re cold?”

Remy nods.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You couldn’t have done anything about it,” Remy points out.

“I still would have liked to know.” Logan places two fingers under Remy’s chin and tilts it up. Remy’s eyes meet Logan’s--Logan is so pretty, with those dark eyes and that ruffled hair and such a concerned look on his face. (Remy doesn’t deserve him.)

“Would you like to cuddle now?” Logan asks. “It will probably help.”

Remy shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t--” Remy waves a hand. “You’re tired.”

“I’m not, and even if I was, you’re more important.” Logan sighs. “We can even cuddle in bed and I can sleep, if it’s that necessary for you.”

“No thanks,” Remy says, trying to wipe away his tears surreptitiously. “I don’t need that.”

“But you want it,” Logan says. “Don’t you?”

Remy presses his lips together.

“Remy. Dearest.” Logan looks pained. “Why aren’t you letting yourself get what you want?”

Something stabs into Remy’s heart and stays there.

“I love you,” Logan pleads. “You’re cold. I--I’m afraid I don’t see what the problem is--”

“Because you don’t want to!” Remy bursts out.

“I don’t--what?” Logan looks utterly bewildered. “Of course I want you to be happy and warm!”

“But you don’t want--you can’t want--” Remy waves an arm at the kitchen, then at himself. “I’m just being clingy, it’s fine--”

“Clingy?” Logan repeats. And now he looks heartbroken.

“Yeah, needy, desperate, whatever.” Remy shrugs. “I’m just sensitive, it’s really fine.”

“Remy. Remy, please.” Logan shakes his head. “Remy, I love you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Logan asks. “I love you and I want you to be happy and I treasure your company. It’s not a burden on me to support you.”

“But you always support me!” Remy fires back. “You do all the work and I just lounge around! I don’t--you’re just stuck with me ‘cause I’m your fucking soulmate!”

There’s a long, frozen silence.

“I’m sorry,” Remy whispers. “Really am, starlight.”

“No.” Logan squares his shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I ever made you think you weren’t good enough for me.”

“What?” Remy asks.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you believe I felt ‘stuck’ with you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you didn’t contribute anything to this relationship. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel needy for wanting comfort.”

Remy swallows.

“I’m sorry if--” Logan shakes his head. “Do you remember the time I got a flat tire and you singlehandledly convinced several different people to drive us, in small increments, to a repair shop?”

“Yes?” Remy blinks a few times. “What’s this have to do with--”

“Do you remember the time one of my students almost dropped out and I cried because I thought I’d failed them, and you helped me reach out to them? They graduated, dearest. With a solid B minus.”

“I know, but--”

“Do you remember all the times you send me to bed for sleeping late?” Logan continues. “Do you remember all the afternoons you flopped on my lap and watched TV with me? Do you remember how you always let me talk about whatever I’d like and you always listen?”

Remy stares at Logan.

“I love you,” Logan says desperately, “and you have helped me so much, and I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. Soulmate or no, I love you. And I will always support you, without hesitation, just as much as you’ve supported me.”

Logan opens his arms. “So...if you’d like to, I think you might like a hug?”

Remy presses a hand to his mouth. “I--”

“It’s okay,” Logan says. “You’re not desperate. You just need help right now.”

Remy chokes back a sob and collapses into Logan’s arms.

“Shh,” Logan whispers as Remy starts to cry. “Shh, I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I missed you,” Remy confesses.

“I know. I missed you too.”

“I love you.” Remy suddenly feels he needs to say it. “I love you so much, starlight.”

“I know.” Remy can hear the trace of a smile in Logan’s voice. “And I’m all the better for it.”

They stand there a long time, Remy sinking into the warmth, head on Logan’s shoulder and arms tucked around his waist. There are things they could be doing. Logan still needs sleep and Remy hasn’t eaten much and they’ve got jobs and lives and a million little things to put back in order.

For now, though, it’s just them in an empty kitchen.

Remy feels like his chest is on fire.

It’s not uncomfortable, though. It’s like the flame of a hearth, guiding him home. Telling him he’s right where he needs to be. And so is Logan.

Together. In each other’s arms. Smiling.

And fuck, Remy feels like he could touch the sun.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @somehow-i-got-an-account @starlight-era @just-your-typical-trans-guy @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @callboxkat @sign-from-god-complex @locked-prism @sign-from-god-complex @a-fandom-trashdump @dragonwithproblems @snowdice @just-a-random-enby @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @sign-from-god-complex @hitmewiththatfanart33 @aceawkwardunicorn @callboxkat @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @demoniccheese83 @legendsgates @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

#losleep #remy sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #ts remy #ts logan #qpr losleep #averywrites #human au #soulmate au #ts shorts remy #tw self-deprecation #look they're soft and i'm soft and it's nine at night #idk what u want from me

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Archie//sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart

Request: Hey agian lol sorry I was also wondering if you could do 2 archie andrew imagines where the reader gets pregnant and tells archie in a cute way, skip to where they find out the gender, then the birth and Archie makes a promise to reader and their baby and proposes to the reader also archie does skin to skin contact

hey! so, this was fun to write! i hope you like! there’s a lot of baby themed things being posted right now, i must have had an influx of baby requests. also, title is a winnie the pooh quote, so credit to that adorable yellow bear i guess. he really has way with words doesn’t he?

Andrew’s construction is in popular demand these days, the legacy of Fred Andrews has travelled far and wide through the surrounding towns of Riverdale, and Archie feels like he hasn’t stopped in the last month. He goes to work before you wake up, comes home when it’s dark, eats, showers and sleeps.

Today is no different, and as he drags his feet up the steps to your apartment, keys jingling in his hands as he goes over what he has left to do on the build he’s currently doing, his eyes get heavier with each step.

He expects you to be waiting by the door, or pottering about in the kitchen when he walks through the front door, but there’s no one there. The lights are switched off, causing a frown to form on his face.

The first thing he feels is panic, but then he hears you coming out of the bathroom, a bright smile on your face as you near him and he feels himself relax.

“Hey babe.” You greet and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you slowly and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “How has your day been?” You ask and grab his coat from him.

“It was alright. We’re almost finished the house, hopefully it’ll be done in the next few days, so maybe next weekend we can get away somewhere.” He replies making you grin. “Right now though, I need a shower.” He sighs and untangles himself from you, cringing when he realizes just how bad he needs one.

“Wait!” You grab his hand and he looks at you confused. “I need to give you something first.” You add and pull him into the small dining room. Candles line the room, making him furrow his eyebrows as he looks at you. “Okay, close your eyes.” You tell him and he sends you a look before reluctantly closing his eyes.

You take a deep breath, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as you pick up the small box hidden on one of the chairs.

“Hold your hands out.” You instruct and he does, slightly apprehensive of what you’re going to do.

“If this is a spider I swear to God, Y/n.” He teases making you giggle.

“It’s not I promise. Just give me your hands.” You say and he shifts uncomfortably, but holds his hands out anyway. “Okay.” You place the box in his hands and he squeezes it. “Open them!”

His eyes snap open and he looks down at the small white box. He looks between it and you before pulling the lid off. A small bear stares back at him and for a moment he’s confused as to why you’ve given him his childhood Winnie the Pooh bear to him as a present. But then he notices what he’s holding and his eyes widen.

“Holy shit.” He whispers and picks the white stick up. “Are you?” He squints while reading the small screen. “positive...are you pregnant?” Tears blur his vision but he can just make out you nodding and he grins at you.

“Don’t worry, I cleaned the test before I put it in the bo-” A squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and spins you around. Tears roll down his cheeks while he laughs loudly.

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbles against your lips. You run your fingers through his hair, and his eyes flutter closed.

“I love you too.” You reply and pull him in for another kiss.

---

“Go ahead.” The bell above the door rings, alerting the few people sitting in Pop’s of your arrival. Archie presses a kiss to your head and squeezes your hand before ordering.

You take a quick glance around, trying to find an empty booth for the two of you to sit and celebrate in, but when your eyes land on a certain blonde and beanie clad couple, your eyes light up and all thoughts of private moment are gone.

“What are you guys doing back?” You ask, pleasantly surprised and Betty and Jughead stop their conversation. Your smiles mirror each other as they stand up to hug you, and you feel tears spring to your eyes. “Sorry guys.” You wipe at them and Betty looks at you concerned. “It’s the hormones. Although, I am really happy that you’re back.” You send them a watery smile and they look at you sympathetically.

“Here.” Jughead hands you a napkin and you take it gratefully.

“Thanks.” You slide into the seat opposite them, resting a gentle hand on the top of your bump.

“We’re just visiting our parents.” Betty explains. “My mom’s been on the phone every single day for the past two weeks so I thought I’d come down for the weekend so she’ll leave us alone for a bit.” She explains and you roll your eyes.

“I see she still isn’t quite over the two of you moving.”

“You’re telling me.” She sips her milkshake while huffing.

“It’s not like we moved half way across the country. We’re an hour and a half drive.” Jughead adds through a mouthful of food and you pull a face.

“Jughead, Betty!” Archie grins while placing your drinks down on the table. “What are you doing back.”

“Alice.” The three of you reply and he shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Betty nods. “Anyway, how are you guys? What have you been up to?” She asks and you and Archie share a look. He places a hand on your bump and you give it a squeeze.

“We went to the doctors today for a scan.” Archie starts and a soft smile twitches at your lips.

“Oh you’re twenty weeks now!” Betty squeals making Jughead jump slightly as she leans forward. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“Nope.” You shake your head and she slumps in her seat. “The doctor wrote it down but we haven’t looked at it yet.” You add and she picks her head up, her eyebrow raises as she glances between you and the bag sat beside you.

“Nope!” Archie picks it up before she has the chance to grab it and she sits back down with a loud huff.

“Meanie. I think as the auntie and uncle of your baby, we have a right to know what it is.” She crosses her arms and you roll your eyes at her.

You may have all grown up, moved away and gotten actual lives. But whenever your back together in Riverdale, you all revert back to teenagers winding each other and everyone else up.

“Hey babe?” Archie interrupts yours and Betty’s small argument and you send her a glare before facing your boyfriend. “Where’s the envelope?”

“What?!” Your eyes widen and you grab the bag from him. Jughead and Betty lean over the table and watch you empty your bag. “No, no, no.” You mumble and shake the worn leather.

“It’s fine.” Archie tries to calm you down. “Isn’t it fine guys.”

“Yes.” Jughead nods.

“Totally fine.” Betty adds and searches through the pile of things on the table. “It’s got to be here somewhere.”

“Hey, do any of you guys know why somebody would just have the world ‘girl’ in an envelope?” Reggie drags a chair up to your table and everyone goes silent. “Because, even I know that’s weird.” He continues and drops the paper on the table.

Black curly writing faces the four of you and you all stare down in shock, it takes a few minutes before Archie breaks the silence. A shocked laugh escapes his lips and he looks at you, tears forming in his eyes.

“We’re having a girl?” He says and you nod.

“Yeah.” You laugh. “I suppose we are.” He cuts you off with a kiss and Betty and Jughead share a look, clinking their glasses together.

---

“Y/n. I have loved you since we were 16. I love how smart you are, and how you’re always the funniest person in the room. Your smile is just my favourite thing to look at, it makes me smile just thinking about it. You’ve made me a better man, and now a father, so I would like to make you my wife. Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry m-OW!”

“Are you seriously asking me to marry you while I’m giving birth?” You seethe and squeeze his hand.

“I thought it was romantic.” He argues and pulls his fingers from your grip. He’s about to continue when you send him a glare that quickly shuts him up, maybe even forever.

“Birth is not romantic. It is the furthest thing from romantic and when I’ve finished this I swear I’m going to tear your head from your shoulders, shove it in the hole and then see how you like pushing something of that size out of you.” His eyes widen at your threat and he gulps a little.

The midwives and doctor surrounding you stifle their laughs at your words, all of them excited to tell their co-workers the newest insult to go on their wall of insults that’s been hurled at partners.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re doing amazing babe.” He strokes the top of your head and you groan loudly as another contraction hits.

“That’s it Y/n, keep pushing. Well done.” The midwife talks you through it and you grit your teeth as you push again.

“Why do you have your boobs out?” You ask through you’re panting and Archie looks down at his bare chest.

“The midwife said it would help bonding.” He shrugs and you stare at him.

“With who? The midwife?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “The baby.” You’re about to argue when another contraction cuts you off and Archie’s bonding is the least of your problems.

“Fuck!” You curse and Archie grimaces at the noises you’re making. If he could swap places with you, he would in an instant. He hates seeing you in pain, even if you just get a paper cut, so this is killing him, even if he does know after it’ll be worth it.

With a few more pushes and lot more curses, you finally give birth to a 7lb baby, born at 8:17am with bright brown eyes and head full of blonde hair.

“Do you think she’ll turn ginger?” You ask through sobs as she’s carefully handed to you.

“I hope so.” Archie cries. “Although, I don’t really care. I’ll love her no matter what.” He adds and wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Archie?” You ask and he looks at you, both of your eyes full of love and awe. “I will marry you.” You say, a tired smile twitching at your lips while your head falls onto his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to it. “Would you like to hold her?” You ask and he nods eagerly.

“I’m always going to be here for you and you’re mom...I promise.” He starts, and walks over to the window looking over the car park and the rest of Riverdale. “You are the most loved thing in this world and I am already so proud of you. I love you.” Archie whispers, the chatter from the nursers and the curses from you all fade away as he stares down at her. Her wide eyes look back at him, they pierce through him and stare straight at his soul. “Hi, Winifred, welcome to the world.”

✨tagged ✨

@moxleybabe

#archie #archie imagine #archie x reader #archie andrews #archie andrews imagine #archie andrews x reader #archie andrews x you #archie andrews aesthetic #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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