#also couldn’t come up with anything for the au description my head hurts

[manjiroscum]

PRIMROSES

Character/s: Pantalone

Warnings: f!reader, a bit of explicit sex, mature language, arranged marriage, hurt&comfort, light angst, fluff, modern au, this is a bit cheesy ngl, reader's father is a dick, pantalone has violet eyes, reader being anxious, pantalone is a banker, pantalone being a simp, mentions of unprotected sex, mention of the use of condoms, hints of pregnancy, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: been long since i wrote so i apologize if it isn't the best 🥹 this piece is dedicated to my lovely bby suki 💖

Synopsis: Your dearest husband got the scare of his life.

WC: 2.4k

Distance makes the heart grow fond but prolonged absence makes the heart forget.

The day Pantalone agreed to marry you despite it being an arranged endeavor was supposed to make a blushing bride feel over the moon. To recall that fateful meeting was akin to viewing a love story just about to unfold on a large screen, blissfully unaware of what was coming next no matter how obvious the foreshadowing is shown. All that occupied your mind that moment was the faint scent of primroses that wafted around the vicinity that was graced by his presence. The scent became stronger with each passing second, especially when you happened to flick off a piece of lint that dared to tarnish his impeccable suit. The mere act alone had Pantalone smiling down at you, causing your poor unsuspecting heart to do a flip.

“Thank you, my dear. I never saw that.”

He was cordial during the first meeting, smiling and casually complimenting you or nodding to your father’s flowery description of his beautiful daughter. The way his eyes followed your every move was enough to have you grow conscious of whatever you do but also made you aware of his interest in his soon-to-be wife. He was every man’s dream—rich, powerful, and unbothered by those who dared to challenge him. After all, who could compete with such a force that is Snezhnaya City’s most wealthy and influential banker? Mere humans can not compete with a demigod of the financial world, let alone those who wish to become like him when there is only one Pantalone in the whole universe who has beaten all odds thrown at him by life to reach the pedestal where he is now.

Nothing would make you happier than to have him fall head over heels for you just like you did with the way he carried himself during the entire evening.

“Is the caviar delicious?”

Pantalone’s lips curled up at your eager nod, unable to take his eyes off of you just like you couldn’t gaze away from the man. He was so patient in explaining things you would ask him, gentle in holding your hand to kiss it as a momentary goodbye. The promise of more encounters shone through his amethyst irises behind those glasses, capturing every fiber of your being to believe in him for he shall never disappoint.

“I hope to see you again, preferably sometime this week.”

A man such as he deserved nothing but the best of the best. To marry Pantalone would be second to reaching those pearly gates—everything to be handed to you on a gold platter and happiness will be served once one gold band is around your pretty ring finger. To be Pantalone’s wife… Such bliss indeed.

And yet, it was damn lonely. After all those months of preparations and making sure the wedding, including the wedding night, was perfect—Pantalone never had free time to spend with you again the second the honeymoon was all over. You have never foreseen the loneliness after all those insatiable fucking, overflowing words of endearment, and sipping champagne with him. Your friend was the occasional helper in the penthouse once the knots were tied. Missing Pantalone dearly wasn’t part of the agreement.

What happened to his vows in keeping you happy?

Your father was the first person you consulted with this sudden change in Pantalone’s demeanor. Yet, he hardly provided any advice or assistance or anything at all to explain the distance between you and your husband. For someone who arranged the marriage, you would’ve thought he’d lend you a hand and be sure the relationship wouldn’t go sour.

“Daughter, I think you shouldn’t be too… clingy, you know? Your husband needs some space from time to time. A man can’t run a business when his wife is hogging all of his time. Just don’t get all emotional. You tend to overreact…”

Frustrated, you slammed the door after walking out of your dad’s office. Hot angry tears threatened to drip down your warm cheeks at his statement. No wonder your mother left his sorry ass too soon.

You? Clingy? Overreacting?

Pantalone couldn’t even keep his hands off of you during the honeymoon period, even going far as to glare at the waiter who was making passes at you at that French restaurant. He tore the dress you wore that night with his bare hands while stamping hot kisses onto every skin his lips could touch. His fingers burying deep in your wet pussy he made possible so easily. The intoxicating smell of primrose and your shampoo mingled in your shared bedroom, with a mixture of sweat and fluids. His mouth claimed yours again and again just like his cock stretching your hole with each powerful thrust. Your husband burned through his stash of condoms meant for a month that night. You failed to recall how many times he came inside you, whispering his devotion directly into your ears while pounding you sore.

Pantalone valued your time like he valued his money. Those lips spoke of unattainable treasures he can buy, pledging he shall get them if you do ask. Yet, you never requested any material things. While you were grateful, it was his presence and his time you sought—far more valuable than any gold or jewel.

He found this far too amusing.

“Dearest, it somehow pains me that you don’t want this Birkin that will absolutely go well with that dress. Normally I would insist, but if you merely want to spend an evening alone with me, who am I to say no?”

It was his sturdy form keeping you from stumbling after too many drinks or the way he tucks back stray hairs from your face that made your soul fall harder. The quirk of his brow or the curve on his lips as he intently listens to you had your heart leaping in euphoria. This may have been an arranged marriage, however, it was better than you imagined. Pantalone may be the best husband there is…

A husband you rarely see anymore due to the drastic change in his behavior.

No matter how you tried to call him every day, you couldn’t help but hang on to his cryptic messages as responses or calls that last for a minute. The meals for two set on the table morphed slowly into one. His chair was often empty beside yours as you ate in silence. Traces of him being in the penthouse was rare, and even if he were to come home, only his warmth beside your side of the bed and the faint scent of primroses were all you could witness.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful as it can be. But your mind was racing faster than the cogs of the machine working to take you to the parking level. Pantalone consumed your thoughts even as you got into the Bentley Pantalone gifted you as a wedding gift. Sitting there and staring into space in the driver’s seat, you sighed.

Where did you go wrong?

You were quite sure everything was going so well between you two. Plus, you made sure not to do anything that will annoy him or anything. Pantalone was straightforward in telling you what ticked him off and what he found pleasant. He laid out his terms just as you did yours before you both agreed to marry one another.

So, what was keeping him so busy that he could barely see his wife, let alone be at home all the time?

Groaning, you leaned back against the seat and covered your face. You didn’t want to shed any tears, not in a parking lot where anyone can see. And frankly, you didn’t want to cry just because Pantalone hasn’t been paying you any attention. Oh god, perhaps you have gone too clingy. Too clingy that he has made his office his home and refuses to see you. For weeks, you have been sick with worry. Mornings, where you refuse to eat and even vomit the food you ate at dinner, were more frequent. To lose sleep over your husband’s absence was not the ideal way to go. But how can you lay in bed when Pantalone was out there doing god knows what?

No longer fighting back the tears, you nodded in defeat. Perhaps your father was right. Maybe you have gone too far as to cling to him in every moment you saw each other. Yeah, that’s probably why… You were quite sure of this, enough to go home and pack your things hastily into a suitcase. Hellbent on leaving him first before he can think of doing it. The rash decision fueled by your sorrows grew more rational with each minute that passed.

Because if he were seeing another woman, you were certain you would die on the spot—right there and then. You couldn’t bare to lose half of your soul when you just found it.

Pantalone, fortunately for him, came home to retrieve papers in his office just in time as you were about to wheel your suitcase out the front door. What appeared to be a normal day went crashing down instantly at the scene in front of the banker. A look of shock flashed in his features that you were sure you have never seen grace his face before. He was quick to compose himself, though, and approached you in confusion. You tried to hide your tear-streaked face, hoping the last image he will see of you is an epitome of immaculate and not someone about to get kicked out.

Yet, fate wouldn’t have it, eh?

“D-dearest, is there something wrong? Why have you packed your—what’s going on?” Despite the urgency and demand in his tone, Pantalone’s voice was shaky. Why on earth was his wife leaving him? Had he done anything wrong? Mind trying to come up with a memory or incident where he might’ve said something to offend you, Pantalone instantly shut the door and blocked it with his body when you moved past him. “Sweetheart, I won’t be able to understand or appease you if you wouldn’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

He watched as you swallowed, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Normally, this type of behavior would irritate him. But this was you. Pantalone would rather set his bank and possessions on fire than scare you away—the charming woman who genuinely enjoyed his company and listened to him rather than worm your way into his life for his money.

“I…I can’t do this anymore,” you responded with a hiccup from all the sobbing you did earlier. Pantalone’s mind haywire at your statement, unsure whether to hold you to keep you from running or to let you go. What could have possibly turned you this way? It wasn’t until your teary eyes met his that the realization of his constant absence sunk into him. “You’ve been… distant lately. I t-tired to reach out multiple times. I know you’re a busy man, but—” you cut yourself off to keep another sob from bubbling out.

Your trembling body was then encased by Pantalone’s, arms wrapping around you. The burst of his familiar scent of those damn flowers that always muddled your mind now cleared your thoughts. Instead of pushing him away, you found yourself crying in his arms, refusing to let go. Your husband sighed heavily, whispering his apologies and rubbing your back to soothe you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am… aware that I’ve been away. I know my lack of reaching out shouldn’t be excused, but do know that whatever you think I am doing is false.” Cupping your face, Pantalone leaned down to kiss your eyelids and tears. He continued to press kisses around your face until you quieted down, still holding onto him. He resumed his explanation with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have left you all alone, especially when the plans I’ve been busy with concern our house. Will you forgive your stupid husband for his mistake, mhm? Please stop crying, dearest. I can’t bare to see you this sad. I know I truly messed up this time… I am willing to make things right.”

Blinking twice, you registered the information regarding his lack of presence. While you were glad he admitted his mistake, this was a reminder that even such an accomplished man like Pantalone was still human at the end of the day. And a house? For the family that you two will soon have? He thought of this relationship far ahead...

Is this man's mission to make you fall even harder?

“You did. You fuckin’ made me worry so much.”

“Language, sweetheart. You know I only want to hear you say filthy words when you’re underneath me,” he joked that your eyes rolling. Pantalone then fished out a handkerchief from his suit pocket, handing it to you. “Now, dry those tears. I’ll take you to see the progress of the construction tomorrow. We’ll have lunch at that restaurant you have been wanting to go to. How does that sound?”

You grabbed the handkerchief he gave you and blew into the expensive material, giggling at the grimace that he tried to mask.

“Okay. But I’ll forgive you, stupid husband, if you promise not to do this again and communicate. And if you will promise to keep the rest of your days free for me. I miss my stupid husband so much that I’ve forgotten how he feels next to me.” You coupled your statement with a soft teasing smile. Pantalone exhaled in relief and then nodded without hesitation, not minding what you called him.

“Of course, dearest. Anything you want.”

Humming in delight, you hugged him again. Those three words you always say slipped past your lips, relief both in your hearts. Pantalone whispered those words back, squeezing you tighter. The crisis has been averted, but simply letting him get away with this is not happening. He knows this.

“And one more thing, can we eat at a different restaurant? I’ve been craving sushi since last night.”

“Craving sushi?” His brow raised at your request, pulling away to stare at you. “But I thought you couldn’t stand raw food right now? You said so last time. Isn’t that the reason why you wanted to eat Italian dishes?”

While it was endearing that Pantalone remembered that phone call back when he was missing in action, you went still at the memory. Sharing a look with him, perhaps there was something more than simply missing him that was causing your mood to switch faster than a broken light switch.

🎐taglist: @dottores @manjirousagi @festive @tokyometronetwork @saetoru @saeshiraw @saecore

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

Chapter Fifteen - Spring 

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.  

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close. 

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you. 

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.  

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.  

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps. 

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.  

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome? 

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?” 

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.  

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!” 

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!” 

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.  

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.  

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.  

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too. 

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock. 

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!” 

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look. 

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.” 

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.   

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped. 

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.  

Yoongi looked confused.  

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?” 

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed. 

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?” 

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat. 

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.  

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.  

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own. 

Yoongi hummed. 

“So is that a yes?” 

“Only if you play your cards right.” 

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him. 

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase. 

“Did I mention I got you flowers?” 

“You might need to tell me one more time.” 

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.  

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.  

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right. 

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you. 

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant. 

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted. 

“No?” 

You shook your head again. 

“Ice-cream?” 

Not that either. 

“Ok... Do you want to go home?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant. 

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him. 

“Oh.” 

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?” 

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.  

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment. 

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him. 

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede. 

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”  

“Then don’t.” 

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back. 

“You know you’re just making it tighter?” 

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.  

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door. 

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”  

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.  

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.  

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom. 

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.  

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?” 

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle. 

“No, thank you!”  

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him. 

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed. 

“You’re good at that.” 

“Hm?” 

“Good with your fingers.” 

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.  

“Is that right?” 

“Shut up, you know what I meant.” 

“I know exactly what you meant.”  

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.  

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead. 

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.  

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.  

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose. 

“Baby, look at me.”  

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled. 

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.  

“Go on.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.  

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.  

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why. 

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length. 

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.  

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.  

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair. 

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nodded again.  

“Gonna look at me and say that?”  

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yoongi...” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you. 

“Have you changed your mind?”  

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice. 

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”  

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.  

Though you were glad that he was neither.   

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.  

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.” 

He didn’t reply. You shrugged. 

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”  

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.” 

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him. 

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.  

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.  

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.  

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.  

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.  

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.  

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip. 

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.  

“Y-e...eess.” 

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.  

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.  

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.  

Yoongi looked hesitant. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

You tipped your head to the side and frowned. 

“But... I want to, though?” 

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun. 

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes. 

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control. 

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again. 

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him. 

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.” 

“Yes, please.”  

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.  

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.  

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.  

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough. 

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.  

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.  

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed. 

“Aha!” 

“Aha, what?” 

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed. 

You twirled your knickers on one finger.  

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.” 

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.  

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer. 

“And pastries.”  

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore. 

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?” 

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!” 

“They’ll kill you.” 

You shrugged. 

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.” 

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.  

“Thank you.”  

“Do you want to get back into bed?” 

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.  

* 

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming. 

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.  

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.  

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.  

“Oh fuck!” 

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.  

Taehyung.  

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late. 

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it. 

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.” 

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close. 

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.” 

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.” 

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.” 

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line. 

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?” 

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.  

“Maybe.” 

“You sicken me.” 

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.” 

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.” 

“Dying from lack of attention?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.” 

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.” 

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!” 

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom. 

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms. 

“Teddy’s being needy.” 

“Do you need to go?” 

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.” 

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.  

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait. 

* 

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it? 

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in. 

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath. 

“Are you ok?”  

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster. 

You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”  

He blinked a little and then a bit more. 

“Oh.” 

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.  

“I love you.” 

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.  

“I love you.” 

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[elliesflower]

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words. 

One big problem. 

What is it?

“Is this the end?” 

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 

“This can’t be the end…” 

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right. 

Movie. 

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 

“I love you…” 

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

[redcloverlocomotive]

TOY TOWER AU: LORE DUMP

Alrightyyy folks, I said I would be doing a ramble of one of my AU's and Toy Tower won. Somehow along the way it became a lore dump...but that's okay cause now I have the main bosses art and explanations/descriptions for the major players (...although I did run out of motivation for some of them)! Now for heads up, this is A LOT of information about Toy Tower, as in the art and writing totals to 13 pages, so prepare yourself as if you are reading a short story or something similar. Hope you like it! Defiantly doing this again, but with a larger time frame for myself tbh-

Now, without further adieu, here is Toy Tower!

Peppino Cotton:

Owner of “Peppino’s Toy Shop”, where many types of toys can be found with their own personal stories. Peppino specializes in making hand-made plushies, with most of his knowledge being from his grandmother. He puts a lot of care into his work and makes sure to treat every plushie he creates with the same love and care as if it was his own child. He is very passionate about his craft and is determined to make the best plushies he can. He also values hard work, kindness, and respect as he believes that with all of those combined, anything is possible. In fact, he believes in those pillars of his personality so much that he refuses to curse or use violence as a first method of combativeness, regardless of the circumstances.

Prior to his shop, he and Maurice were drafted into the military, with Peppino working as a combat medic and Maurice as a rifleman. Maurice at one point got severely wounded and it was only thanks to Peppino he was able to survive via care and transport, but Maurice refuses to believe it as he was knocked out and can’t see Peppino as a hero when for his whole life Peppino had always been lower than him. In spite of seeing the report made on him, Maurice concluded Peppino didn't save him; that another nearby medic kept Maurice alive while Peppino drove when the reality was the reverse. Peppino did feel hurt by this, but was glad that Maurice was still safe and alive…even if he is called weak or soft for his new job as a toy maker (which often results in Peppino being pleaded at when holidays come around).

When Peppino opened his store with his friends Gustavo and Mr. Stick, he noticed many people unhappy with the toys made by the large company nearby, “Toy-Time Toys”. He noticed the knock-off appearance and Mr. Stick used it to his advantage when promoting Peppino's, claiming all of his toys are the real deal in comparison. This drew in many customers and gained attention from Toyhead, who sent a mini Toyface to approach Peppino.

Toyface praised Peppino for his success and wished to add him to his list of toy lines, offering to buy his shop in turn for some of the profits. Peppino, aware of the cheaply made toys, denied the deal and told Toyface the products he has do not bring joy to those who buy them and that they have no spirit or care, and that those reasons are what made Peppino popular. 

Toyhead, surprised and enraged that someone would dare reject his offer, threatens Peppino that he is willing to destroy the little shop if it means he couldn’t have it, and tries to offer more money into the deal. Peppino still refuses Toyface’s offer, telling him that he himself will go to the tower and tear it down himself if it means his shop prevails. Amused, Toyface gives him a final offer that he cannot refuse: Peppino has one day to arrive at the tower and tear it down without any outside assistance before he sends his demolition crew in. Peppino agrees and goes off, almost in a panic, to keep his shop alive.

Gustavo:

Good ol’ Gustavo. He helps in repairing and restoring old toys, in hopes of giving them a second life. Working at Peppino’s toy shop gave him the best access to broken or trashed toys, mostly by finding leftovers from the Tower, it’s where he found Brick after all. He enjoys the simplicity of the shop also. It may not sell the latest, top of the line toys, but each one he has worked on has a story to tell to a child, and that is all that matters to him. After the tower, he also helps Pepperman when he opens his own shop.

Brick:

Keeping it simple. Brick is a rat-worm on a string, with colorings being gray with a pink tail. When they squeak, it sounds like a chew toy going off. Brick also loves cuddles and can act like a therapy animal if he notices someone is heavily stressed.

Mr. Stick:

Mr. Stick, the distributor for Peppino’s Toy Shop. He helps with putting ads out where he can if it means to make some extra pay. He is also a collector of construction toys (i.e., Legos), which includes him having a room back at his home solely to display his sets. Mr. Stick doesn’t tell no one though because he thinks it’s childish, but can’t help picking up a few pieces and letting his hands work on something. Appearance wise, he is the same from Pizza Tower, just with a darker shade of orange for his suit and hat.

Trinket's:

The Toppin’s equivalent of Toy Tower. They are: A brown teddy bear, a yellow toy block, a red toy car, a silver slinky, and a multicolored tom bowler (big) marble. They act just like the Toppin’s.

Pepperman (Phil Capsin Pepper):

An artist once tied up by his own hubris. Being a skilled craftsman, he used his arts to specialize in making puppets, dolls, and mannequins of various sizes and uses for people of all ages to enjoy, dreaming he would become the greatest doll maker anyone has ever seen. During this time, he caught Toyheads attention as he expressed his wish of grandeur. Toyhead wanted to help Phil, and did so by making a contract. The contract that Phil signed said that if a certain quota of sales was made, he would return to Toyhead and allow him to recreate and sell his creations, with a part of the profits going to Phil as a safety measure. Phil agreed and the quota was quickly met, a new found popularity following suit and put him on cloud nine.

Everything seemed grand until Phil saw what was being sold in his name. Phil’s dread grew into horror as now his once beautiful name was tarnished, being nothing more than a title for cheaply made dolls that were no longer unique and did not hold the passion the originals were made with. He confronted Toyhead with his concerns, but was shoved away as he already signed his permissions off, sent to the bottom floor of the Tower with the demands of making newer and more complex designs, forcing Phil to work day and night to the point of exhaustion. He had become unable to meet deadlines. He no longer wanted fame if it meant being a sellout. He no longer wanted to make what he once loved, going through life without a sense of being. He has become a prisoner of his own ambition.

When Peppino arrived for the boss battle, he saw a broken soul being forced to fight and use his words to reach Phil, allowing the two to talk, understand, and sympathize. Phil would become inspired by Peppino to fight after hearing the deal Toyhead made with him, and help in the final battle with Toyhead.

After the tower, Phil would go on a road trip across America to clear his name from Toyhead, expose the horrors behind “Toy-Time Toys”, and later return to open a small shop of his own, which often had collaborations with “Peppino’s Toy Shop” via plush puppets.

Vigilante:

The slime toy of the wild west. He is golden, glittery, and gritty, with a passion for protecting toys from being harmed and broken. He is relatively the same as original Vigilante personality-wise, being fooled by Toyface that Peppino and Gustavo were destroying toys in a mad rampage and needed to be stopped. Once battling them, he saw how he was tricked and was willing to help in any way he could. In terms of weaponry, they are more so used to slow down rather than hurt, these include: a pistol with slime bullets, a glue gun uzi, a paint sprayer, smoke bombs, and a paintball bazooka. After the tower, Vigilante is unsure of what to do at first, but later helps the other residents to make a new tower, with the usage of gnome magic to open levels rather than a curse.

Noise (Theo Noister):

The superhero of his own story, the Noise! He works as an actor for his action packed (Power Ranger inspired) tv show titled “The Pitch Force”, allowing Toyhead to make merchandise for his show if Theo gets part of the profit. He personally loves the action figures, but will promote just about anything that involves him and his show.

Compared to the original Noise, he is more sincere when it comes to his appearance and how he displays himself, but can and will still be a smartass if irked. When away from the camera and in normal attire, he is more insecure due to thinking his tv persona is the one everyone wants to see, not some guy who smokes like a train and curses like a sailor. On occasion, he donates extra stock to Noisette’s playplace where she can use them.

After the defeat of the tower, Noise and the NTV cast go and continue the show elsewhere, keeping the merchandise lines with help from Mr. Stick. Theo however allows the show to be more story driven rather than product driven thanks in part to Hazel’s request, even adding a mini arch telling the story of the tower.

Noisette (Hazel Noister):

Not much to say about her really. She’s the same silly Noisette as in the original, but instead runs a playplace instead of a cafe as well as being a secondary actor in Noise’s tv show. In this AU, she does not know Fakey well, and is warned to stay in her area unless called by Noise or Toyhead.

Fake Peppino (Fakey):

This is a living plushie, once unaware of kindness. Fakey himself is a patchworked beast of fabric, robotics, and enough human DNA to at least have a brain (only God and Toyhead knows what else lies under the stitching). It is not used to interactions besides ones of fear and hostility, which shaped his mindset that others want him to be scary and cause harm. In his part of the tower, unsettling patchmade plushies are found in all manners of care. Some are poorly done, some torn to shreds, and others mixed from different creatures to create amalgamations. The worst (or best if you like horror) part of all of this is that he can make the plushies come to life as he used his ‘living stuffing’ as part of their creation, with broken laughter and cracked squeaking heard in all directions. It is only after the tower and facing Peppino is Fakey aware of other emotions, like kindness and curiosity…even if the others are still freaked out by the living plush.

Toyface:

Toyface is a drone that has AI assistance installed. Mostly just to help assist Toyhead and not much else.

Toyhead:

       The head honcho himself, creator of “Toy-Time Toys”. Not much is known of him, besides him being a child actor for many types of advertisements. He was so enamored with toys and with how many there were, as a child he wished to make his own version of everything. 

       As he grew older, Toyhead invested time and effort in making the latest toy for all the ‘cool’ kids. However, these toys he made always lacked something he couldn’t figure out, giving the impression that they were knock-offs or cheaply made. With failure after failure, he made a make-or-break deal in purchasing a tower, which turned into a success and made him launch a company that now sells in mass, with the levels saving him money in toy production. However, that feeling of fraudulence is still present in his toys, but he now simply makes too much money to care, believing money is now the way to happiness. That was his life until he noticed a small toy shop opening up not too far from his tower and threatening the little toy shop and toy maker into oblivion if he couldn’t have it.

And that's all for now folks! Thank you for reading if you made it all the way down here. I do apologize for the wait from the initial poll, but when I was working on this, my brain blasted off on multiple occasions which also included multiple rewrites of what was initially there. Nonetheless I am glad to get this AU out into the world! Might give myself a break though...then make a new poll on my 3 other AU's.

[redheadgleekfic]

Ficlet: Dear Elder Anderson

by @redheadgleek for @wowbright

Words: ~1400

Rating: General

Summary: Coming home isn't always easy.

A/N: written for and inspired by my dear friend @wowbright and their Mormon!Klaine universe. Several months ago, we were talking about what happened after Kurt's return from his mission and it inspired this idea. As Wow hasn't read this, think of it as an AU of an AU.

Other notes: this includes blatant descriptions of the LDS temple with direct wording from the endowment and sealing ceremonies. Along with a multitude of other sins not condoned by the church. If this offends, I encourage you to find something else to read.

*

5 August 2014

Dear Elder Anderson,

I know, it’s a little weird calling you this after so many weeks of using your first name. But now, after coming home where I can’t call you Elder Anderson to our investigators on a daily basis or hear Elder Flannigan slaughter the pronunciation, I miss it. 

I miss you.

I miss you every day. I think I miss you most in the mornings, when I think about those mornings sitting across from you as you ate your pretzel and scrambled eggs and we did companion scripture study together. But I also miss you at night when I could hear you breathe in the dark and listen to the little snort you’d make when you were just drifting off. 

It’s weird being home, weird being away from you after so many months with you constantly at my side. You’ve been my compass for so long, that now I feel adrift. I swore I wouldn’t be one of those missionaries who couldn’t have a normal conversation for months. But every time I start to share a story about my time in Germany, it always seems to feature you, and talking about you both thrills and hurts me, so I stop and I sound so awkward. 

Dad suspects something. How much I don’t know, but he asks me a lot of questions about you. He can sense something has changed. That I’m different than I was before. 

He and Carole sat down with me two nights ago. They want to be sealed in the temple next month. And they want me to do Finn’s temple work. 

I am so conflicted and I think my silence surprised them. Doing my brother’s temple work so that we could be together as a family for eternity was my primary goal for so many years. This is what I wanted. 

I feel no guilt or shame over my feelings for you or anything we did. What we have is precious and God-given. I know this with as much of a burning bosom surety as I got when I’ve prayed about the church. So I felt no guilt when I sidestepped the questions at my exit interview with the bishop and I told him I obeyed the law of chastity and was worthy to enter the temple with no hesitation. He would have disagreed with me, would have excommunicated me if I had confessed, but he is wrong. It was harder to answer the questions about sustaining the president as a seer and revelator, when I’m not sure that he really is, but I got my recommend and I’ve been determined to use it. 

And yet, when Dad brought up us spending the day at the temple, I was at a loss. Do I want to do Finn’s work any more? Will he really be lost to me for eternity if I don’t? If the church is wrong about being gay, is it wrong about the afterlife too? 

I wish you were here so I could talk to you about this. Your straightforward explanations always calmed my worries and got me out of my head. You never were afraid of any of the questions I asked. I know if I brought them up with Dad, he’d worry about it. 

On the plus side, I was able to shove all of my mission suits to the back of my closet. I went on a shopping spree and treated myself to a new waistcoat and shirts with color and jeans - jeans, Blaine, I’ve missed them so much. They look great with the bowtie you gave me - I’ll send you the pics. 

Love, Kurt

*

7 September 2014

Mein Liebling Elder Anderson,

Yesterday, Carole took out her endowment and she and Dad were sealed together for time and all eternity. And with me acting as proxy, Finn was sealed to them too. They were so happy. Carole looked radiant in her white dress and Dad kept hugging us both. 

It was a draining day, spiritually nourishing and numbing at the same time. 

Dad baptized me, confirmed me and gave me the priesthood for Finn. I wept hearing his name over and over. “Kurt E Hummel, I baptize you for and on behalf of Finn Christopher Hudson, who is dead.”

Kurt E Hummel, I confirm you a member of the Church of Jesus Christ for and on behalf of Finn Christopher Hudson, who is dead."

Who is dead. I was reminded over and over that he was dead.

I’ve always loved the symbolism of the temple. Perhaps because Dad was a convert and Mom did things her own way, but I’ve never minded the anointing or the endowment or found it weird. There’s something meaningful in the rituals, the way that we would all perform the same signs at the same time that felt powerful. I felt closer to God the few times I went to the temple before my mission and that’s why I’ve been so determined to keep my recommend. 

Elder St. James told me once that he almost walked out when he took out his endowments, certain that he was part of a cult. I don’t think I ever asked you of your experiences with the temple. Carole didn't seem too shocked, but I'm pretty sure that Dad filled her in on what to expect.

The endowment bothered me more yesterday. Finn was washed clean from his sins by someone who everybody else in the church would see as sinning. I couldn’t help that wave of worry that by lying to the lord’s anointed to get the recommend and doing Finn’s work, I would be invalidating it all and he would be in the terrestrial kingdom forever. I tried to ignore it as I pledged to refrain from loud laughter for my brother whose loud, free laugh could be heard across the school and made everybody around him happy. I took vows to obey the law of chastity with promises for his posterity when he never got to get married or have kids or any of that. 

There were beautiful moments too and those were almost harder. When the officiant reminded us about the meaning of the marks, I remembered stroking the mark of the square on your breast as I listened to your heartbeat. I love seeing you in your garments, seeing you as a son of God. 

And everything felt peaceful and familiar and right when I stood in the prayer circle next to my dad and stepmom. Carole was crying, tears that seeped out from under her veil and my dad was glowing in pride for what I was doing. His wish of having all of his family together. 

Dad took Carole through the veil. Does my mom mind sharing my dad for eternity? So many questions that I have no answer for. He also served as the officiant when I got to the veil too. I didn’t know that this was going to happen and I started crying when I heard his voice through the veil. Having my dad’s hand on my shoulder, holding my hand and giving the tokens, and hearing him say “Let him enter” - Blaine, this is all I’ve ever wanted. We sat in the celestial room afterwards, talking about Finn and cried together. For once, one of the temple workers didn’t try to shush us for talking too loudly. 

When it was time for the sealing, we all walked to the room together. It was just the three of us and the sealant. Dad and Carole were sealed first, and then I knelt next to them as Finn, who is dead. I looked into the mirror, and watched our reflections echoing, trying to picture my mom beside us and Finn and you. Because you belong there too in our circle of love. I wish I could kneel across from you and take your right hand and pledge before God, angels and witnesses to uphold the holy order of matrimony.

And I can’t. I won’t ever be able to do that. 

We took pictures outside on the temple grounds. I’ve always loved the simplicity of the Columbus temple. It was built when I was a toddler, and I have pictures of my parents and me at the open house, my dad carrying me because it had been a long day. 

Again, I imagined you holding my hand as we exited out of the front door to the cheers of all of our loved ones. 

I thought I could still make the church work after coming home. I’d be like John Gustav-Wrathall, faithfully attending church every week with you by my side, even if they disfellowshipped or excommunicated me. I don’t know if I can do that, because I ache so much for what I can’t have. 

But I know this. You are worth more than the eternity that the church offers. 

Love, Your Kurt

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

fanfic that I'll never touch again sounds interesting!

Thanks for stopping by! (From the WIP title game)

Interesting indeed.

This is the folder where I keep the shitty fanfiction I wrote from ages 13-16. I have nothing against fanfic except for my own :)

Fanfic #1- Warriors Cats

Sparrowpaw looked around and realized he wasn’t in SunClan territory anymore. “Where am I?” “StarClan’s hunting grounds,” Rosecloud answered. “Sparrow- paw, please don’t pester Daisypaw. She must walk her own path.” Sparrowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But the prophecy-” “Daisypaw has her own destiny,” Rosecloud interrupted. “Then what was the point of the prophecy?!” Sparrowpaw screamed. “The prophecy was so you could be prepared,” Rosecloud said, calmly. “When it comes true, you need to help Daisypaw. But only you. You can’t tell anyone about the prophecy. You must follow your destiny….”

I did my own OCs, my own Clans, and it really helped me grow as a writer. I made my first outline, tried writing morally gray characters. I actually had a decent plot! Problem was pacing. I may revisit the ideas I had but make it original.

Fanfic #2- Hamilton AU

“Pardon me,” a voice behind Aaron said. “Are you Aaron Burr?” Aaron took a deep breath. It was early. But he couldn’t ignore whoever this was, or they’d keep annoying him. Also, who says “pardon me” anymore? “That depends,” Aaron said, putting his book down and turning around to the kid who had spoken. One of the advantages of being quiet was you could pay attention to everyone around you. Aaron might not know their names, but he knew everyone here by what they looked like. And the kid in front of him did not look familiar. “Who’s asking?” Aaron asked.

I wrote like a singular chapter of a Middle School AU and this is the least painful part of it. Don't make me discuss this further.

Fanfic #3- MCU AU

Idk if a vaguely described birth needs a content warning, but heads up

Peggy’s screams ring through the air, causing a pain to pierce my stomach, though I know the pain is not as bad as what she’s going through. “Just breathe,” the midwife, Dorothy, says. “YOU BREATHE, DAMMIT!” Peggy screams, tears flowing down her face. “Peggy! Peggy!” I say, kneeling down next to her. I take her hand. “Peggy, look at me. It’s going to be okay. It will be over soon—” “GO TO HELL, STEVEN!” Peggy lets out a cry as she has yet another contraction. “Okay, Peggy, I need you to push,” Dorothy says. Peggy screams again as she pushes. She squeezes my hand and I let out a cry of pain. My fingers are losing their color as she squeezes tighter, and tighter. “I can see the head!” Dorothy exclaims. “Push, Peggy, push!” I close my eyes as I see Peggy go through some of the worst amount of pain a human being can experience. I can’t watch her like this. It hurts too much.

It was an AU in which Steve Rogers was not frozen in ice. I cannot read further than this because I was in physical pain from cringing.

Uh may reread it someday but not yet.

Fanfic #4- Supernatural

Content warning: leviathan decapitated head description

It was my oldest, Jamie, who found it in the yard. I was inside when I heard her scream. I raced outside as fast as I could, only to find my daughter standing in the hole we’d dug in search for more oil. She was covered in dirt, and appeared to have dropped the shovel she’d been using. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. Jamie just looked down at her feet, eyes wide in terror. I slowly crept toward her, thinking maybe she’d found a colony of worms or something. But when I leaned over the side of the hole, what I saw caused my heart to stop. At first glance, it appeared to be the head of a man, but his face was anything but human. There was no face. It was just a wide, open mouth with rows of sharp teeth. I was in so much shock, I didn’t realize that the creature’s head was not connected to the rest of its body, which was nowhere to be found. The deformed head was alone, sitting in a pool of black liquid that I’d once assumed was oil, but was now certain that it was the monster’s blood.

All I wrote was this prologue but it ain't bad. Just had no ideas, but this guy, Steven, is an OC

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! I didn't!

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Whumptober Day 3: Isolation and Overstimulation

Disc finale bad ending AU. Studying the effects of Tommy's hypersensitivity after revival, Dream uses the fear of being alone Tommy has to be allowed to preen his wings, despite the sensory overload of revival. Warnings for hypersensitivity and sensory overload, some body horror with revival, abuse, torture, manipulation, isolation, human experimentation, and forced family dynamics.

this is inspired by the time i was having a meltdown and my dad decided the best way to comfort me was ruffling my hair. i love you dad but you’re also stupid.

ao3 link

—— Coming back to life fucking sucked.

Limbo was shitty, sure, but he’d rather stay there and sleep forever or something than go through the sheer unbridled awfulness of revival. Limbo hurt, but it was the lingering pain of death- honestly, it wasn’t even that fucking bad if Dream was in one of those rare moods he didn’t treat making Tommy’s death as prolonged and torturous as possible as the most fun game in the whole world. It was nothing compared to the sheer agony of revival.

It was indescribable, but out of the sheer boredom Tommy’s life was defined by outside of the terror of Dream’s experiments, the twisted feelings of almost-happiness when Dream forced him to pretend they were all friendly like, and the sobbing fits he went into whenever he thought of Tubbo had left him with a lot of time to find the closest description possible, solely to never tell it to Dream out of spite. Or maybe to tell it to him straight away, and be a good friend and be allowed maybe a modicum of freedom. It depended on whether he was having a normal day or one of the ones where he wished even Dream was around to spare him from the tedium and boredom of being locked in a boiling hot cell with literally nothing to do.

It was like if you were a jumper. Dying was like if you were unravelled into a mess of wool, and obviously, that hurt like shit, but once you were a pile of thread, it didn’t really get worse. But being revived? It was like if you were knitted back together, but like, by a really shitty knitter. It was like you had holes poked in you and sewn together wrong and when you were finished, you had like three arms and were full of holes, meaning you couldn’t even keep anything warm anymore, and then you just had to be a shitty jumper in pain and unable to do anything forever as you unravelled again but even worse.

It wasn’t a perfect analogy because it made it sound way too nice. It didn’t even get into how it felt like his soul had been shattered and glued together haphazardly, then sent through a fucking shredder. It didn’t get into the fainting spells or the brain fog, or when he’d spend all day curled up around the sink vomiting a pitch-black fluid that eroded at the walls and the porcelain. But it was the closest he’d managed to describing the sheer agony.

It was quick, but that felt less like a mercy and more like another torture. A sudden burst of agony without warning burned through him, one second in limbo, the next forced back into his own decaying corpse, the walls wailing and the lights blinding. The bedsheets underneath him were soft, but the bloodstains dug into him painfully, and the texture of it hurt. The taste of iron in his mouth made him feel sick, and the smell of perfume barely covering up rot stung his eyes and nose.

Involuntarily, Tommy let out a cry of pain, but the reverberations through his throat felt like a thousand tiny knives. Dream said something, probably either mocking or the fake nice thing he did when pretending they were friends, but it blurred together into an incomprehensible noisy mess. He put his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth as he curled into the tightest ball he could.

The feeling of something heavy on his head, ruffling across it and leaving behind a tingling pain wherever it touched, made him squeeze up even tighter, letting out a squeak of pain. It felt like little bugs had laid their eggs in his scalp where the pressure was, digging through his skull and his brain, painful and, above all else, uncomfortable beyond description, leaving him squirming and trying to avoid it.

“Prime, Tommy, you don’t need to act like I’m killing you, geez.” Dream’s voice was barely audible through the static of the echo against the wall, the lava sizzling, Tommy’s own laboured breath. Vaguely, he registered that he wasn’t angry. More… amused. Curious.

Dream being curious was never good.

Suddenly, a light touch poked at his wings, and despite how brief the contact was, it sent an explosion of pain through Tommy’s body, like knives through his flesh. White hot pain flashed through the delicate bones and malformed, underdeveloped flesh underneath, flashing like electricity. It was like drowning in a sea of stars, their touch burning and gnawing through him. He couldn’t breathe through the void of space in his lungs.

The noise that came from his throat wasn’t a scream; it was something more guttural, less coherent. A howling, piercing screech of agony, one that echoed off the walls in a cacophonous symphony. Something like laughter joined it too, one he vaguely recognised as Dream’s wheezing giggles. It was a horrible, overwhelming sound.

“Sorry, sorry!” Dream’s voice was barely recognisable over the dim static, even as the wall of noise faded. “I just couldn’t help myself, y’know? You’re so sensitive over your wings. It’s so funny.”

“Hurts.” Tommy barely more than mouthed the word, shivering violently. “Hurts.”

“Interesting.” Dream hummed, and Tommy flinched violently, expecting another touch, but Dream only observed. “It doesn’t always hurt if they’re touched, though, right? I mean, I saw Tubbo preening your wings when they got dirty ages ago, and you didn’t seem upset by that. I mean, your feathers are a mess. It’s bothering me.”

“I… Tubbo…” 

Just thinking of Tubbo felt through a knife through the chest, a worse pain than anything physical Dream could inflict. The screams, the rattling sound of his breath as he slipped away, the glassy-eyed look of his corpse. Tommy had tried to take the quick, decisive blow initially meant to kill him, and as punishment, while Tommy was lying on the ground clutching his shattered ribs, Dream had drawn out Tubbo’s death, made Tommy watch it the whole time.

Maybe he deserved all this, making Tubbo suffer.

“… He- he knew how to do it without it making my skin feel like it was on fuckin’ fire.” Tommy cuddled his knees, hiding his face. He wasn’t giving Dream the fucking satisfaction of seeing him tear up. “It’s- like, I make my own clothes because everything else hurts, right? And I cook my own food and stuff.” 

He left out the fact it was meant to be a thing that was a bonding experience, done between parent and child, brothers and sisters, friends so close they were practically family. Letting someone he fucking despised like Dream do it would be like letting Dream cut his hair or patch up his wounds, uncomfortable and shitty. Something he knew from experience because Dream had done those, and it was fucking awkward.

Prime, he acted like a worried mother hen around Tommy, fretting and clingy as shit, at least when he wasn’t gleefully watching him bleed out onto the obsidian. He’d more likely get the latter if he protested, and as weird as it was that Dream was acting like they were brothers or something, at least it was better than dying.

“Can you tell me how to do it, then?” Dream’s voice was sickly sweet, and he could imagine the soft smile on his face. Honey poorly hiding poison. Tommy instinctively shook his head, but Dream ignored it. “I can’t stand the mess, so either I do it now, or I leave you alone until it’s time for the next experiment and do it while you’re a corpse. Or I could just cut off your wings, but I like them, so I’d rather not.”

Tommy’s blood ran cold at the word alone. Alone was a worse pain than any blow Dream could make, any words he could weave, a million times worse. Broken bones and infected wounds didn’t fester as painfully as the all-consuming guilt and loneliness that descended on the cell when Tommy was alone. Dream was cruel, taking joy in torturing and experimenting on Tommy in the way a child played with their favourite toys. Still, he was a person, one who’d give Tommy kindness and socialisation even when no one else would, and even if the idea of the slightest brush against his feathers made him feel sick, a single second alone felt even worse.

“I- please. You can stay, just don’t leave me alone.” Tommy spoke as loudly as he could, even though it felt like a sword down his throat to do so. “Please. We- we can be friends, just, don’t go, please-“

“Alright, alright! Prime, you’re so jumpy.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of annoyance in Dream’s tone, just what might have been restrained affection. The sort you’d give a misbehaving kitten, the tones Tommy once spoke to Henry with. “Honestly, I did need to study this at some point, y’know. It’s easier if I don’t have to deal with you scratching at me.”

Tommy barely had the time to process the words before he yelped at Dream sitting behind him on the bed, gently resting his hands just close enough to Tommy’s wings that he could feel their presence pricking at him like a thousand needles. “What do I do?”

“Uh, j-just… don’t touch the actual wing? Like, I know that makes no fuckin’ sense, but I can’t feel through my feathers, it’s like hair and shit, but my actual wings are all put together wrong, and it’s- even when I haven’t just been revived and shit, fucking hurts if they’re touched at all, because the bones are all wrong.”

Dream hummed, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, he gently ran his fingers through one of the iridescent feathers on Tommy’s wings. The slight pull felt like his nerves were being plucked straight out of his skin, like he was a star dying, bursting into a supernova and burning himself. Even the warm, comforting feeling the soft touch gave, like how the memories of laughter and watching the night skies in L’Manberg felt made manifest, was overwhelming, like being drowned in a life he’d no longer ever have.

When Tommy was younger, he remembered he used to hate hugs. They were nice, for a while, but then the feeling of warmth turned to burning on his skin, itchiness where the horrible clothes people somehow managed to wear, the pressure suddenly turning suffocating. He used to bite Wilbur sometimes, like a cornered cat. Once he was better at English, he’d been able to explain why it was bad- Wilbur said something about sensory issues and tried to take him to a doctor to get something beginning with A tested out, but apparently, you get kicked out if you show the doctor your knife collection- and he’d almost forgotten he’d hated it at all. 

His mind, though, desperately trying to make sense of the pain and overstimulation, replayed the memories in his head, like a broken disc mixed in with starbursts and lights brighter than the sun. It felt like those old days, the scary days, except Dream knew what the fuck he was doing and didn’t give a shit. That feeling offered some perverse sense of comfort.

Maybe he could pretend he was ten again, and Dream was Wilbur, and everything was normal, and his pain didn’t matter, and no one knew any better.

Instead of biting at anyone, Tommy bit his tongue until he tasted blood and put on a smiling mask. That, as agonising as it was, was better than being alone.

[acacia-may]

Not All Heroes (OMORI Fanfiction)

Description: Kel was the type of person who tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, but even if he wasn't, his older brother, Hero, would still be able to tell something was definitely bothering him. After all, he's been silently trying to fix their broken toaster for who knows how long... Little does he know that what's troubling Kel is far above his pay grade.

OR

Hero tries his best to be a supportive older brother and help Kel process some unexpected news.

[A Post-Bad Ending AU That Takes Place (Nearly) 6 Years After the Bad Ending of OMORI]

Relationships: Hero & Kel's Brotherly Bond and Kelbrey (Romantic Kel/Aubrey) [A/N: Kelbrey is more angsty & dysfunctional here than I like to imagine them, sorry. Blame the game's bad ending.]. Some Hero & Kel & Aubrey friendship. Mentions of Hero & Kel & Aubrey & Sunny & Basil & Mari friendship and References to Past HeroMari (Romantic Hero/Mari).

Characters: Hero (POV Character), Kel, and Aubrey. Sunny, Mari, & Basil are mentioned. Hero & Kel's parents and Sally briefly appear.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, Brotherly Love, Family Feels, Angst With A Hopeful Ending, Aged-Up Characters/Future Fic, Some Romance (Kelbrey), Heart To Heart Chats, Unplanned Pregnancy, Hero: The Savior of Kelbrey, Father's Day, Angsty Kel, Toasters, It Actually Has a Happy/Hopeful Ending (I Promise)

Word Count: 6945

Rating: T for some language and heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma) and some more suggestive thematic elements/implied suggestive thematic elements due to referenced pregnancy (Note: There is nothing explicit in this fic whatsoever).

Warnings: Major Spoilers for OMORI Bad Ending! Heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma). Some language, including one (1) somewhat vulgar insult. More suggestive thematic elements/implied suggestive thematic elements due to referenced pregnancy. Implied/Referenced unplanned pregnancy. Implied/Referenced Past Character Deaths. Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues (i.e. depression, suicide ect.). Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms. Mentioned (of age) drinking. [Disclaimer: I am not advocating for any of the kinds of dysfunction and unhealthy coping skills referenced in this fic. Please don't try this at home, kids]. More tags on AO3.

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another website.

A/N: I am clearly entering my OMORI era and also my Kel Angst era maybe? I don't know. I prefer happy Kel so I don't know why I keep writing about him being so sad, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. I really just wanted to write in a "Post-Bad Ending" AU, I guess. Will I ever write a story in which Kel gets to be happy? This has yet to be seen. Sorry Kel.

Story below the cut. Thank you for reading! 💕

“Hey, Kel. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. They were still out of tomato soup, but I got some potato soup that was on sale in the deli section.” Hero paused—waiting for Kel to make some obligatory joke about tomatoes and potatoes, but Kel didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t even look up from whatever he was working on over in the living room of their apartment as Hero set the grocery bags on the counter. Maybe he didn’t hear him?

“Kel?” No answer. “Kel?” he repeated a little louder to still, no answer. “Earth to Kel…” he teased, hoping that would get his attention. When Kel didn’t respond, Hero’s brow furrowed. Usually, his brother couldn’t wait to talk his ear off as soon as he got home, but today he was strangely quiet. It was more than a little concerning. “You okay, Kel?”  

“Huh?” Kel startled nearly dropping the screwdriver he had in his hands. Hero could have sworn his face flushed for just a split second before he hurriedly replied, “Oh sorry, Hero. I didn’t hear you come in.”

That was…odd, but Hero shrugged it off. “No worries. What are you working on?”

“Oh, just taking a look at the toaster. I think there’s a problem with the electrical circuit.”  

Hero sighed. Their toaster had been on the fritz for a couple of days now, and even though Hero had suggested that they could just buy a new one, Kel had gotten into his mind that he should be able to fix it. This in and of itself wasn’t anything new. Kel could certainly be stubborn when he wanted to be, but he was usually a total chatterbox when he was working, not so engrossed in his projects that he turned uncharacteristically silent.

“Seriously, Kel. We can just buy a new one. It’s no big deal.”  

“But what if we need the money for something else?”

“Like what?” Hero’s brow furrowed as a strange look passed over Kel’s eyes.

“I dunno,” he muttered quietly, turning back to the broken toaster. Hero took a deep breath. Something was wrong—call it brother’s intuition, but he knew it.

“Hey, Kel, is…is everything okay?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head. Kel swallowed hard and fidgeted, but he didn’t answer. “Is there something going on at work?” Hero’s mind was racing. Maybe Kel’s plant was downsizing or he had made a big mistake and was in trouble or there was something going on within the company that was making him fear for his job security and his ability to afford toasters…?

“Nah. It’s not that,” answered Kel with a shrug. He looked almost relieved, and his smile returned though it wasn’t nearly as bright as usual. “I think I’m squared away there. Mr. Talbot says I’m a great welder so I can keep working for him as long as I want, and I’ve been making lots of money working third shift.” 

A smile tugged at Hero’s mouth, and he sighed with relief. He was glad Kel’s job was secure and that he seemed to be doing so well for himself now. Hero had been so worried about him after Sunny and Basil had died, but his brother had somehow found his way—thriving in trade school and finding a job he loved in manufacturing. In fact, Hero doubted he knew anyone who loved their job nearly as much as Kel. Almost every morning, whenever Hero was getting ready to head off to one of his med school classes or his clinical work at the hospital, Kel was getting back to the apartment they shared after his late shift, smiling and excitedly prattling away about mechanical things Hero couldn’t begin to understand. He wished Kel would smile now—but he looked so defeated. Something was definitely wrong. 

Hero took a deep breath. He didn’t want to press the issue, but he knew Kel was the type of person who let his worries about burdening others prevent him from opening up sometimes. Over the years, Hero had learned that his brother sometimes needed some gentle encouragement that it was okay to share whatever was on his mind, even if it wasn’t his usual brand of upbeat positivity. “Kel…are you sure everything’s okay?” 

Kel paused but didn’t look up from his toaster project. “I─I just…I’ve got a lot on my mind I guess, but I’m sure it’ll work out.” 

“If you want to talk about it, you can tell me…” Hero reassured him, but when Kel just shrugged again, he sighed. He hoped that Kel knew he could always talk to him about anything, and he just chose not to. Hero had never really known why that was—though he hoped that it wasn’t because of something he had done, that the time he had lashed out at him after Mari’s death hadn’t scarred Kel in a way that made him scared of ever opening up to him again. In the best case scenario, Hero liked to think that whatever troubled Kel was awkward for him to share with his brother and so he was just more comfortable talking to someone else about it—usually Aubrey, if Hero had to guess. 

Aubrey and Kel were thick as thieves, especially since they had lost Basil and Sunny, and Kel had told him once that they could talk about things with each other that they could never say to anyone else. Hero had never been entirely sure what they talked about, and he respectfully stayed out of it for the most part, not wanting to pry into their business. He was just grateful Kel had someone to talk to about whatever was troubling him, and it was nice to have Aubrey around their apartment all the time for meals or to watch tv or to play cards or board games. Even if he hadn’t seen much of her lately seeing as he was so busy with med school and his clinical work, he could always tell when she had been around because the place was much tidier than if he had just left Kel to his own devices. But as nice as it was to come home to the dishes done or the kitchen floor swept up or to the silly sticky-notes she’d leave on their refrigerator, Hero missed actually getting to visit with Aubrey and wished they hadn’t had alternating schedules. 

Like Kel, Aubrey also worked a late shift as a nurse at a local psychiatric hospital. She didn’t like to talk about her job much—and probably couldn’t due to HIPPA and privacy concerns—but Hero couldn’t help but wonder if she chose that line of work to try to prevent another Sunny or Basil from… He swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. They had only discussed it once, very briefly when she first started working in a juvenile psych ward, but he would never forget what she said: “I just kept thinking that someday I’ll finally understand why—what could have possibly led them to think that was the only…”—her voice had hitched—“But I don’t think I’ll ever really know, you know, Hero?”

He had known, and, if he was being honest, he was still trying to make sense of it all himself even all these years later. He was proud of Aubrey for taking that on and trying her best to make a difference to people who were suffering in that way, especially since he knew he would never have the strength for it himself. He avoided psychological topics like the plague, and there was nothing in the world that could make him take a psychiatry residency after he graduated medical school—it just hit too close to home. Even sitting here and trying to help Kel with whatever was troubling him would probably keep him up all night with worry. Aubrey was much stronger—much better at this kind of thing than him. That’s probably why Kel felt like he could talk to her about anything. Maybe they could invite her over for pizza and a game of Jenga and she could help Kel through whatever he was going through. 

“Or maybe you could call Aubrey?” Hero suggested when Kel didn’t respond. Kel flinched—something sad passing over his eyes, and Hero’s insides twisted. Had he said something wrong? 

“Aubrey…” Kel fidgeted, before beginning to tinker with the toaster again. “Aubrey hasn’t been talking to me. She said she needed some space, and I’ve been trying to respect that, it’s just been hard.” 

“Did you two have a fight?” Hero’s brow furrowed. Sure, they still bickered with each other, teased and bantered with each other sometimes, but as far as he knew they hadn’t had a real, actual fight with each other in years. 

“Not really, but…” Kel swallowed. “I think I really messed up this time.” With a sigh, he set the broken toaster and his tools down on the coffee table, and he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aubrey’s your friend,” reassured Hero. “I’m sure she will forgive you eventually. Have you tried apologizing?” 

“Well yeah, of course, I did, but like I said she won’t really talk to me…” He paused and swallowed hard. “Except for today. She called and said she wanted to meet up this morning. I was going to tell her how sorry I was for everything and maybe ask her to get some dinner with me or something but then—then she…” Kel stopped. He fumbled around for something in his pocket before pulling out a small square of paper. “She gave me this.” 

Hero’s eyes widened as he stared at the paper in Kel’s hand. The picture was blurry in grainy black and white, but it was unmistakable to Hero. After all, he must have looked through hundreds of similar ultrasounds during his unit on obstetrics. Still, he couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around it. He choked on his words though he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say.   

“It’s a sonogram.” Kel paused pointing at the grainy picture. “See, that’s the head, and there’s an arm. Aubrey said the technician laughed because it looked like he was waving at them.” 

“Aubrey’s…uh…that is…she’s…um…is she…?” Hero’s face flushed, and he stopped abruptly. He couldn’t say it. It made it too real.

Kel, however, must have caught on well enough to his rambled half-sentences, and he hummed and nodded in agreement though a sheepish smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “Yeah… she’s—uh—having a baby. She says she’s due near Mari’s birthday, in March.” 

“I…I didn’t even know she was in a relationship…” 

“I don’t think she is”—Kel cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders slightly—“ Or maybe she is. I don’t know. She hasn’t really talked to me in a while.” 

“Is…is the father…?” Hero stammered, halfway hoping Kel would cut him off. It seemed like too personal a question and probably none of his business, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. 

Kel bit his lip and stared off at the wall as he rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. “Oh—uh, so…funny story about that…” His cheeks flushed, and Hero could feel his own face begin to burn. He swallowed hard. No. There was no way… 

“Kel─” he barely managed to choke out, blinking at him in disbelief. 

“Uh, yeah so…” Kel sort of shrugged his shoulders before he chuckled lightly, awkwardly. “This is my kid. I’m gonna be a dad—pretty wild, huh?” he said with far more nonchalance than the situation warranted. Kel sighed down at the sonogram before holding out the paper to Hero. “And I guess that means this is your nephew or niece, right? It’s a little unbelievable honestly, and I’m kind of freaking out to tell you the truth.” 

Hero could only blink at him in disbelief before he pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to remind himself to take deep, shaky breaths. “Kel…I…What? How?” he tripped hurriedly over his words. 

“You’re really close to being a doctor, Hero. You really expect me to believe you don’t know where babies come from?” 

Hero choked—blushing a beet red. “No, uh, that’s not what I meant!” he frantically replied. He paused, trying his best to clear his parched throat. “I just meant that you and…and Aubrey…” His face flushed an even deeper red. Aubrey was a very private person about everything, especially her personal life, but Hero didn’t think she had ever had a serious relationship. Up until this moment, he would have sworn that Kel certainly hadn’t, and, as far as he knew, he wasn’t out there hooking up with a bunch of girls either. Then again, what did he know? He was just his older brother. Kel could be a real ladies’ man or maybe he had been secretly in a relationship with Aubrey this entire time and hadn’t told anyone for some reason or…? Hero’s head whirled. He didn’t know what to think. He supposed it was really none of his business, but the words tumbled out in his desperate attempts to make sense of what he was hearing. “Are you two…um…dating?” 

“I don’t think so. I wish she’d let me take her on a date, but she’s just been avoiding me ever since we…uh, well, you know…” Kel scratched the back of his neck and let out a long, heavy sigh before he shook his head. He cleared his throat and something almost helpless and genuinely remorseful passed over his eyes. “Listen, I─I really, really messed up, Hero. I don’t even know what I was thinking—I probably wasn’t thinking anything, and now…now this is just such a mess and I─I don’t know what to do…” 

“Do you…uh…want to talk about it?” He tripped over his words, sheepish and awkward. He was sure it wasn’t his place and truthfully didn’t really want to know, but he could tell Kel desperately needed to get it all off his chest and if the last decade had taught them anything, it was that carrying a burden alone, crumbling under the weight of it, could destroy a person. He had already lost Mari, Sunny, and Basil in this way—he didn’t want to lose Kel too, didn’t want him to suffer alone. “I’m here. If you ever…” His voice trailed, but Kel tilted his head with a conceding sigh. 

“It was a couple months ago,” he began. There was a certain relief that passed over his face when he started talking as if he had been desperately wanting to tell someone this story for a long, long time, and knowing Kel as well as he did, Hero could only imagine how hard it was for him to keep it a secret for months. “She was really, really sad since the anniversary was coming up. It’s been 5 years since Basil…” He stopped. “And 6 years since Sunny…and 10 since Mari…” His voice trailed. “It’s just a lot, you know? So she came over and we sat and talked about it for a long time, and she was really, really broken up. I probably should’ve stopped her from drinking with me, I just…I hate it when she cries, and she thought it would make her feel better. But I think it just made us stupid.”

He sighed and shook his head. “It was getting really late. You were still at the hospital or school or somewhere…and I was just listening to her and sometimes talking too—the details are all kind of fuzzy but eventually she started saying something about how she doesn’t have anybody—Mari and Basil and Sunny and her dad, they all just left her and now she’s all alone. And I just wanted her to feel better. I told her that she has me, you know? But I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from me—nobody really needs me…” He shrugged his shoulders and tried to laugh it off, but Hero could see the pain in his eyes before he sighed again. “I know, I know it was a sucky thing for me to do, but when she said she needed me, I─I just…I don’t know…I just…kissed her and—she kissed me back. And then I kissed her back and…I don’t know if it was the alcohol or that we were sad or just both things, everything, but well… one thing led to another…” 

Kel cleared his throat, and Hero sighed with relief that his brother had cut himself off there. He didn’t want to interrupt Kel or make him feel like he couldn’t share, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow invading his and Aubrey’s privacy. There were certain things brothers just shouldn’t ever know about each other. 

“It was huge mistake, and I felt so guilty about it the next day, like I took advantage of how broken up she was. She said it was what she wanted, but I just don’t think she would have wanted me if she was completely sober and wasn’t so upset, you know?” He let out a long and heavy sigh. “I tried to apologize to her, but she said she’d rather just forget about it—chalk it up to stupid drunk mistakes and unhealthy coping or whatever and just never talk about it again. I said that was okay, but I just kept thinking about it—not in a weird way, just in an ‘I really wished I could do things over and take her out on a real date’ kind of way. Seriously, the very next day I was planning to ask if she’d let me buy her breakfast or something, but she had totally disappeared when I woke up and like I said, she wouldn’t really talk to me after so…” 

Kel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “I’m such an idiot and now…now she’s…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I almost didn’t believe it when she told me, but she had this picture and everything…” He gripped the sonogram until his knuckles began to turn white. “She had this video too—on her phone.” As Kel paused, his face began to soften, and a smile twitched in the corners of his mouth—”It was actually kinda cool. The baby was really wiggling around and stuff. I thought that maybe…maybe he’d be kinda athletic like me—or she would, if it’s a girl.” He somehow managed a shaky chuckle. “You could hear the heartbeat too—sounded really strong…” Kel’s voice trailed as he ran a hand through his hair and took several shallow, shaky breaths. “Shit, Hero. What am I gonna do?”

Kel buried his face in his hands, and Hero’s chest ached. He scrambled to try to think of something to say to comfort Kel, but all he could think about was whether he had ever seen his brother so scared before. He couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling right now—the complicated emotions—the disbelief, the fears, the uncertainty, the guilt and the helplessness that must have been eating away at him since he had found out about the baby. 

“I feel terrible—like I’ve ruined her life and probably ruined the kid’s life or at least I’m gonna ruin it eventually because I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. I don’t know anything about being a parent—I can barely take care of myself.” 

“I’m sure Mom and Dad could give you some advice…”

Kel interrupted him with a groan, muttering a string of curses under his breath before throwing up his hands. “I didn’t even think about them. They’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m sure they’re not going to…um…” Hero stopped. “Listen, Mom and Dad care about you. They’re probably going to be surprised, but I think they’ll be supportive and helpful.” Hero tried to muster a reassuring smile. “I mean…Sally was a surprise to them, right?”

“They had Sally after being married for almost 20 years, Hero. I haven’t even taken Aubrey on a real date. These are not the same things.” Kel huffed but shook his head waving his hands around in frustration. Hero could tell by the look in his eyes that he was spiraling. “Oh, Sally… I wasn’t thinking about her either. She’s gonna be more like a sister than an aunt, and what are Mom and Dad even going to tell her? Like ‘Hey, Sally, guess what, your big brother’s a manwhore. He’s a baby daddy now.’”

“K—Kel!” spluttered a red-faced Hero. “They’re not going to say that, especially not to Sally.”

“What if they take it out on Aubrey?” Kel cut him off, gesturing wildly with his hands, clearly spiraling too much to listen to him. “What are people gonna say about her? What are they gonna think? Especially the church ladies—they’re gonna whisper and gossip about her and think terrible, awful things, and it’s all my fault.”

“Listen, Kel, you can’t control what other people think, okay?” Hero tried to reassure him, politely failing to mention that Kel had much more important things to worry about than the church ladies. “And…”

“And Aubrey said her mom told her not to bother coming home if she ever got pregnant,” The words raced out of Kel’s mouth, faster than Hero thought he could even think them. “And—and Kim…oh shit, Hero, she wants to cut off—”

“Calm down,” interjected Hero placing both hands squarely on Kel’s shoulders until he was looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. Hero took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down too. It wouldn’t do Kel any good if he also started spiraling into a tornado of worries. “Okay? It’s going to be okay. Take a couple of deep breaths. The most important thing right now is Aubrey—how is Aubrey?” Hero paused, but Kel only blinked at him so he prompted,  “I’m sure she’s…she’s scared too, right? Has she been sick?”

“She’s not sick, Hero. She’s pregnant.”

He buried his face in his hand—willing himself not to roll his eyes. “Yes, Kel…” he said with a heavy sigh. “I know that. I just…meant…has she been feeling sick because she’s pregnant?”

“Oh.” With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Kel’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask that.” He pressed his palm to his forehead and shook his head. “I’m so bad at this.”

“It’s—it’s okay, Kel…” Hero reached out his hand to pat his brother’s shoulder, but Kel jerked away from him.

“No, it isn’t.” His face fell, and he sighed despondently. “This whole thing is just terrible—I feel like such a screw up. If I was just more careful or a better person, I wouldn’t have messed up and gotten her pregnant in the first place. If I really cared about her, I would’ve just called her a ride or something. I bet that’s what you would have done—you’d have been a gentleman, made sure she got home safe. You’d probably never even be in this situation, with anyone…” 

“Well…uh…,” Hero stumbled unsure of how exactly to respond to that. He didn’t really want to be involved, and he certainly didn’t think that comparison to him was warranted. He couldn’t even imagine wanting to be in a relationship with anyone—not anymore, not since Mari… He stopped—swallowing hard and ignoring that pang in his chest. He couldn’t even imagine kissing another woman. Let alone… He cleared his throat and awkwardly fidgeted with his hands. He supposed Kel was right. He probably would have never been in this situation—he was way above his pay grade here. 

“Listen, Kel…” he began, hoping he would think of something comforting to say if he just started fumbling his way through his words. “Don’t beat yourself up. I know it’s really scary, but it’s going to be okay. What’s important now is that you need to do right by Aubrey and the baby. You need to take responsibility and care of them.” 

“I know, and I want to—really. I just…I don’t know what I should do…,” Kel continued, a certain helplessness creeping into his voice. “I asked Aubrey if she thought we should get married or something…” He paused. “She said she’d think about it…” As Kel bit his lip, his face fell, and he fidgeted with his hands. He looked defeated—almost wounded. Even so, he managed an awkward chuckle as he scratched the nape of his neck. “I completely understand if she doesn’t want to marry me though. She can probably do a lot better. I just—I didn’t know what else to do…” 

“I’m sure it’s not about you personally, Kel. She probably just doesn’t want a shotgun wedding, you know?” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kel sighed. “But I don’t think it would be just a shotgun wedding, you know?” 

“Would you have wanted to marry her even if she wasn’t─?” His voice cracked. He was still struggling to say it. 

“Maybe…someday—probably farther in the future after we actually went out, you know? We haven’t even been on a real date before.” He sighed and pressed his hand wearily to his forehead again. “I feel like I need to buy her some noodles or a piece of cake or something before we have a kid. She deserves a real date and a real relationship and stuff…Probably a real proposal too. I didn’t even have a ring or anything. I just kind of panicked.” 

“Kel…uh…” Hero stopped himself before he stammered ‘slow down.’ “Are you…? Uh…Do you love Aubrey?” 

“I dunno—maybe. Probably.” He sighed. “I just never really thought about it, you know? I just didn’t think she was ever gonna be into me, so I figured it would be best not to even consider it. But…I dunno… she’s pretty amazing.” His mouth curved into a smile, and there was something almost wistful in his eyes. “She’s honest and funny and kinda spunky—and her nose gets all wrinkly when she laughs”—he chuckled, then sighed—“Ever since Sunny and Basil died, she’s been the closest person in the world to me besides you. I’ve told her stuff I could never tell anyone else—all kinds of stuff about me and how I feel, even the bad stuff—and she still talks to me after. And—I dunno—it’s kind of like she sees something in me that nobody else does. I can’t stop thinking about her, and I want to be with her all the time and…I just want to make her happy—” Kel stopped and took a deep breath, shaking his head as if he had finally realized what Hero had figured out about five sentences ago. “Damn…I’m a moron.”

Hero stifled a chuckle before he ruffled his little brother’s hair with a gentle smile. “You’re just in love.”

Kel blushed. “You really think so?”

Hero shrugged his shoulders and nodded—the understatement of the century seeing as he never even realized Kel could look so besotted or lovesick, especially not about Aubrey of all people. Sure, he teased them a little from time to time, as older siblings tend to do, but he probably would have never treated it like such a joke if he had the slightest inkling Kel was harboring real, genuine feelings for her. To see how his face lit up just now when talked about her, Hero, honestly, felt pretty stupid for not having realized it before.

Kel’s smile had all but faded, and he buried his face in his hands, cursing under his breath again. “I have really, really messed this up…” he mumbled. “I’ll be lucky if she’ll even talk to me again.”

“She’s going to have to talk to you, Kel. You’re having a kid together…” Hero froze. The words felt so heavy—so real. Kel and Aubrey were having a baby. They were going to be the parents of a real, actual child. It was hard to believe.

“That poor, kid…” Kel sighed, then stumbled hurriedly. “I mean, Aubrey’s great—she’ll be an awesome mom, but the baby’s gonna be stuck with me for a dad. I’m probably gonna mess him up or something.”  

“Hey, don’t say that,” interrupted Hero. “You are both going to be great parents. This might not be the best situation, but that kid is going to be so lucky to have you and I know you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

“I dunno…”

“You are,” Hero insisted as he wrapped his arm around Kel’s shoulders. Kel rolled his eyes, but Hero’s mouth curved into a kind, gentle smile as he continued, “I can just see it, Kel. No one will be able to get your kid to laugh like you do—you’ll put party hats over your eyes or smash cake in your face just to see him smile. You’ll have splash fights for hours at the beach or push her so high on the swings that she’ll swear she can reach the moon. If your kid ever wants to try a sport like you, you’ll cheer louder and more enthusiastically than all the other parents at every single game. You’ll tell the best bedtime stories and come up with the most fun games to play. You’ll teach her how to throw a baseball and how to always win at cards. You’ll sit with him and listen when he’s sad, and you’d stop the world to make him happy again.”

Hero gave his brother a reassuring pat on the back before he sighed, “I know that this is a really tough situation and that it’s not always going to be easy. I don’t know how things are all going to work out, but there is no doubt in my mind that you are going to love that kid no matter what.” He gently pushed the sonogram back towards Kel. “I can tell you already do.”  

“You…you really think so?” asked Kel, a blush filling his cheeks as he fidgeted with the sonogram in his hands.

“I know it,” said Hero, nodding several times for good measure.

Kel’s mouth twitched into a slight smile as he stared down at the sonogram. “You know, in the middle of all this freaking out I’ve been doing, I…I was thinking about all the cool things we could do together—me and the kid. I could teach him how to play basketball or baseball. We could eat watermelon in the summertime or build sandcastles. Maybe I could build a treehouse someday, and she could play in it with her friends.” Something panged in Hero’s chest, and from the look in Kel’s eyes, he knew he was thinking the same thing—remembering those bittersweet moments from their own childhoods back when all of their friends were still together. “Wouldn’t it be kind of great if someday we could take the kid to all our favorite places from when we were kids? Maybe we can bury him in the sand at the beach like we did with Sunny, or teach her how to make flower crowns like Mari taught us, or take silly Polaroids together like Basil, or have picnics”—his voice hitched before it grew soft, quiet—“I wish they were here...”

Hero pulled his brother closer to him and leaned his head on his shoulder as he took long, shaky breaths. There were some kinds of pain that never really left a person—the loss of a friend was one of them. Even after all these years, his heart ached thinking about Sunny, Basil, and Mari. “I know…” he said. “Me too.”

“Aubrey says they know. She told them first. She said she was so upset and confused when she took the test that she just got in her car and started driving—she didn’t know where she was going until she was at the church. She went to visit them, at the cemetery and told them everything, though she was sure they probably already knew.” He paused, a light chuckle reverberating in his chest. “She said she felt so much better afterwards—knew she wanted to raise the baby and bring him or her back there someday, even if she had to do it without me.” Kel swallowed hard. His breath hitched, and Hero could feel his shoulders begin to shake as his voice grew quiet. “I don’t want her to have to do that alone. I want to be there—to be a dad. To take care of the baby and take care of her…”   

Hero’s expression softened as he comfortingly patted Kel’s shoulder. “That’s what’s great about you, Kel. You want to fix things. You want to take care of people and make them happy—to do the right thing.”

Kel sniffled wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve, but a lopsided, bittersweet smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “I just wish I knew what ‘the right thing’ was…” He sighed with a somewhat helpless shrug of his shoulders. “What do you think I should do, Hero?”

“Well…” Hero sighed. “I really think you should be honest with Aubrey about how you’re feeling—the good and the bad stuff. She’s probably really scared too, so you should encourage her that you’re not going to go anywhere and promise that you’ll be there for her and for your kid so she won’t have to do this alone. Then, the two of you are going to have to sort out the rest together, but I think it’ll be easier to do that after you’ve had an honest conversation.” Kel nodded, and Hero shrugged his shoulders. “And eventually you’ll have to tell Mom and Dad because they will figure it out…But that’s good for a start, right?”

Kel blinked at him—words of gratitude that he couldn’t say glistening in his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, that’s good.” His smile brightened as he immediately stood up from the sofa and rushed over to his car keys hanging by the front door.

“Hey…uh…what are…?”

“I’m going to go talk to her—right now,” he exclaimed with a certain determination.

“Well…I didn’t mean you had to go over right now,” stumbled Hero. “Maybe you should text her first and ask if it’s a good time…”

“That’s okay. I’ll call her on the way,” Kel chuckled before he paused. “Oh I almost forgot.” He fumbled around with the sonogram in his hands before proudly hanging it on the refrigerator with a magnet. Kel beamed at it before turning back to Hero and pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re gonna be the best uncle, you know?”

“I’ll try my best,” quipped Hero as he wrapped his arms around his brother.

“Thank you…” Kel’s voice was so quiet, Hero almost couldn’t hear him. “For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered before Kel pat him on the back and took off through the doorway.

Once Kel had gone, Hero stared at his phone for a long, long time debating whether or not he should text Aubrey and give her a heads up that Kel was on his way over, especially since this may or may not have been because he misinterpreted his advice. Eventually, he decided it was probably not his place to meddle, and he decided to fix himself some food instead. As he walked over to the refrigerator, he stared at the sonogram Kel had hung up, and he smiled.

One day that refrigerator would be covered in pictures. Another sonogram—several actually, of increasingly better quality. A photo of Hero stifling his laughter at an unamused and heavily pregnant Aubrey’s shirt that said, “Don’t Eat Watermelon Seeds” which Kel was so proud to have found himself. One of Kel, happier than he had ever been in his life, as he held his son for his first time. Of Aubrey practically beaming with the baby during a picnic they all took together in the park. Of Hero dressing his nephew up in a onesie that looked like a dinosaur or holding his tiny hands as he crooned to old records turned lullabies or taking him for a walk in the rain under an umbrella. Snapshots of the life of a little boy who Aubrey playfully teased was far too adorable for someone who looked so much like Kel, and who Kel would be the first to tell anyone was his whole world—the best thing that ever could’ve happened to him. The most loved little boy in all of Faraway Town who showed his Uncle Hero—who showed all of them that they could be happy again.

Hero’s phone dinged. It was a message from Aubrey. It read: “You know don’t you?”

He chuckled sheepishly to himself as he picked up his phone to respond and watched the bouncing ellipses of her typing a follow up text, but as he read it, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you.”

*-*-*

Epilogue:  

One Year Later…

“I want to hold him! I want to hold him!” exclaimed Sally excitedly, practically doting on her new nephew as he was rocked to sleep by an equally doting grandma. Kel smiled but shushed her gently.

“Gentle, Sally. He’s trying to sleep—we have to appreciate those opportunities when we’ve got ‘em,” he teased with a wink in Aubrey’s general direction. There was a certain affection to the way she rolled her eyes that made Hero stifle a chuckle. By this point, he was fairly convinced he was never not going to find her and Kel’s banter with each other cute, even or perhaps especially if it continued to annoy them. Despite his best efforts to hide it, however, he knew Aubrey saw the way his mouth had twitched into a smile, and she quirked an eyebrow at him before cutting another piece of the cake they had brought over to his parents’ house for Father’s Day.

“You want another piece of cake, Hero?” she asked, that gold band in the shape of an infinity symbol clanging against the ceramic plate as she held it out to him.

“No thanks,” he replied politely. “I’ve already had one, and I’m already stuffed from dinner. Looks like Dad is too.” He laughed as he glanced over at his father who was dozing off in his new recliner—the perfect gift, all thanks to Aubrey.

Aubrey chuckled but sighed. “He’s definitely got the right idea. I wish that was me.”

“Really? I feel great,” interjected Kel excitedly. “We got six hours of sleep in a row last night! I may have actually cried a little when I woke up this morning.”

“Dork,” teased Aubrey with a playful roll of her eyes, but her mouth twitched up in the corners.

“Your dork,” Kel corrected. “Forever.” He laughed, smugly wiggling the fingers of his left hand to her. He even pointed at his ring a couple of times for good measure, but when she just blinked at him unamused, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

“Kel…” she huffed, then turned to glare at Hero who could no longer stifle his laughter. “You’re making Hero uncomfortable.”

“Are you kidding? This is adorable. I wish I had a camera,” Hero teased in his dry way. Aubrey sighed, but, seemingly, decided to change the subject.

“We have something for you,” she said, disentangling herself from Kel’s hug. “Don’t we, Kel…”

“Oh yeah, that’s right!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded greeting card envelope. Aubrey pressed her palm to her forehead and shook her head.

“I thought you said you were going to take care of it.”

“I did,” Kel insisted. “It’s right here.”

Aubrey let out a long and heavy sigh as Kel unfolded the greeting card and handed it to Hero.

“Thank you,” he said as he took it with a kindhearted smile. “I’m sure it’s great. But I don’t understand why you’re giving me…”

“It’s Father’s Day,” Kel cut him off with an emphatic nod as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Hero’s brow furrowed. “Happy Father’s Day or uh—Uncle’s Day…or uh—Godfather’s Day…That works, right?” Kel looked to Aubrey for reassurance, but she was mid-facepalm muttering about how she really needed that nap. “Well, whatever it’s your first one as an Uncle-Godfather, so it’s special.”

“We also wanted to thank you,” added Aubrey with a gentle smile as she glanced over at her sleeping son who was currently being handed to a very excited Aunt Sally. “For everything.”

Hero smiled at Aubrey and Kel, before carefully opening the greeting card. It took him all of 5 seconds to realize Kel had probably picked it out given the bright colors and the joke about uncles being like superheroes. Inside were the punchline and the words “Happy Father’s Day,” as well as a gift card to his favorite coffee shop.

Smiling, he looked up to offer his gratitude and thanks, when he caught sight of a personalized message scrawled at the bottom of the card. His smile widened, and he could feel a tear prickling in the corner of his eye as he read the words: “Not All Heroes Wear Capes.”

[lyriquette]

Old RWBY AU description from the Frosen Steel chat server - 1/25/2021

This is a continuation of the Salem and Ozpin reincarnating into Penny's head (/prior post if queueing is working properly.). The Qrow and Winter convo about sobering up is probably the one I'm most proud of.

__

lilac — 01/25/2021 10:52 PM

Soo...>>. just gonna yell more background involving the au with Salem and Ozpin reincarnating into Penny's head.

Jacques had managed to get away from the White Fang that day by using his children and his bodyguards as bait, but it did not come without its consequences. When Jacques Schnee held the press conference to salvage his reputation, Momma Schnee, in an unprecedented act of assertiveness, threw a slap to his face before throwing the divorce papers right into his chest.

“Get away from my kids. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“What is the meaning of thi-“

Willow pressed a button on her scroll, and the quiet background music was replaced by an audio clip.

----

“Both of you, stop following me! They’ll spot us easily from the bleeding!”

“Father!” Whitley exclaimed.

“Sorry, son. We have to part ways. The Schnee Dust Company will fall without me. I’m too important to die!”

A startled cry could be heard, followed by the soft sound of something falling. Numerous clicks, reminiscent of a safety coming off, could be heard.

“Stop following me.”

“You monster!” Weiss’s voice growled out, “Ordering people to draw guns on your own children.”

“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good,” Jacques said self-righteously.

The audio clipped shut out.

----

Willow didn’t quite get custody of the kids. Jacques didn’t manage it either. Turns out being an extreme alcoholic who neglected her kids for a good number of years worked against her. Though at this point, anything would be better than awarding custody of the Schnee kids to a man who purposefully put them in a situation where they could get killed.

It didn’t stop the Atlasian Government from trying though. The man nearly won custody because he had the “means to take care of them”, and it took a mysteriously-appearing stack of information appearing on General Ironwood’s desk involving the recent financial transactions of the jurors and judge that made the head of Atlas himself act.

Willow just wanted her kids out of the house, even if they couldn’t come with her. It would hurt, but she’d understand. What probably prevented Jacques Gele from fighting as hard as he could was that she offered to let him keep everything so long as he never interacted with them again. Faced with both his greed and an Ironwood ready to lay down the law, Jacques reluctantly let go of his rights to his children.

However, Ironwood was also uncomfortable with letting a woman who, by all counts, seemed to have neglected her children for a greater part of their life, a lot of it because of alcoholism. So he required her to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and set her up with a mentor who had beaten his alcoholism, though he didn’t come willing at first. He had to call a favor from Headmistress Goodwitch who threatened Professor Ozpin who in turn called the man in question, Qrow Branwen.

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

Willow works as both a programmer and security specialist with one of the local businesses in the area. The business had its misgivings at first, but when Willow breaks into their core security with nothing more than a shitty laptop and some social engineering, she’s hired on the spot. Pretty soon, everyone, even the big boss, begin to see her as the boss, because she knew her way around corporate bureaucracy and navigated through it well. In a couple of years, they’re one of the top ten digital security companies in Mantle.

The Schnee family’s new home is now located several blocks from Penny’s house, a place they continued living in despite Willow’s success. To her, the people were more sincere here, but more importantly her family loved it here compared to the central city of Atlas where they had to constantly put up a façade.

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

Qrow and Willow slowly test the waters in their first meeting and eventually have a heart-to-heart. He begins to tell her his tale.

Like Willow, Qrow had to pick up his life after alcoholism. He was one of the rare Hunters in the business along with his sister after Mantle cleaned up the local bandits in the area. Going on the run, they sought refuge in Vale and eventually enrolled into Beacon under Headmistress Glynda and Assistant Headmaster Oobleck. Team STRQ was going well until they encountered the real world. There was no such thing as fighting the good fight, just eliminating the enemies of the Kingdom – people who have been neglected and oppressed by society and could only survive by fighting back – people who could empathize with having lived as a bandit before. He eventually quit being a Hunter but because he had no physical reason for why he couldn't perform his duties, Vale forced him into a dishonorable discharge and prevented him from getting benefits during his stint in the military.

He eventually got into an unfulfilling bodyguard gig and sunk deep into his alcoholism because of the unfairness of it all. When he started arriving to work drunk, he got fired. He probably would’ve been out on the street If it weren’t for his savings he accumulated over the years from the military.

--

“How did you decide enough was enough?” Willow asked.

“…”, the man shifted uneasily, the question clearly uncomfortable for him.

“Err. I’m sorr-“

"No. No. It’s a valid question,” Qrow waved a hand shaking his head, “I just…I just never told anyone about it before.”

“I wish I could say it was a piece of cake. That I did it through my own strength of will and flipped my alcoholism off as though I flicked off a switch,” Qrow said with a rueful grin before sighing, “But it’d be a disservice to you. And as much as James and I dislike each other, he trusted me enough to give you sound advice.”

“You’ve met my niece earlier, Ruby,” Qrow said.

Willow furrowed her brows at the non-sequitur.

“Yes. She’s a nice girl, even if my youngest daughter doesn’t want to adm-“

“What if I were to tell you that I nearly pointed a gun at her when she was 8?” Qrow deadpanned.

Willow stopped speaking upon hearing that, her words caught in her throat and her eyes wide in horror.

“And that I nearly did it over a stupid prank?” Qrow took another breath as he continued, “Because all she wanted was attention from the uncle who ignored her for most of the weekend cause he was drinking?”

His hands shook as he quietly pulled out a silver flask from his vest.

“So she hid all the alcohol in the house while her uncle was asleep,” Qrow frowned deeply as he stared at his reflection in the well-polished flask. Loathing and hatred and a burning urge to hurt could be seen in his eyes, causing Willow to step back instinctively. “And when he woke up in need of something to curb the hangover and figuring out what his niece did…” the man then bellowed, “he started to desperately demand where his drinks were and began to lose his patience with his niece who still thought everything was still a game.”

“And then it stopped being a game. Because in that moment all I saw was an enemy who had to be dealt with so I could get what I needed.” Qrow let out a sigh and let some of the tension in his limbs go, “And I think she saw the difference too, because she started looking at me the same way you’re looking at me now.”

Willow’s breath caught in her throat.

He shuddered.

“I’m grateful,” Qrow smiled faintly, “For that tiny bit of clarity that stopped me from pulling out my pistol that day,” he said, “When I saw her face full of fear, the only thought that ran through my head was ‘what the hell was wrong with me?’ I hugged her and apologized and played everything off as a joke and promised to take her out for pancakes, and everything was okay again.”

“But it wasn’t okay. Only I knew that day how close I came to pulling my weapon on my niece,” Qrow closed his eyes solemnly before opening them again.

“And now you do too.”

“Qrow…” Willow truly didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t reconcile the playful, rogueish man as a guy who would pull a gun on a kid, much less a niece as adorable as his own. And though he didn’t direct his emotions at her specifically, she could feel the anger and rage and self-loathing he felt as he recalled his painful past for her own sake.

“I checked myself in to a rehab facility as soon as Tai picked Ruby up,” Qrow continued on, running a hand through his hair, “During my first year alone, I relapsed twenty-two times and sent myself to the hospital around half of those cause my alcohol tolerance no longer matched my bingeing.”

He paced back and forth, clearly trying to figure out what one recovering alcoholic should be saying to someone who wanted to stop. <c> 73

“It’s going to be hard at parties,” Qrow continued, “Seeing everyone around you enjoying their drinks while you’re forced to sip on some non-alcoholic Tomato-Lime Sipper will eat at you inside.” He frowned at the mention of the drink before he added, “It’ll be even harder when you’re stressed out, knowing that blissful numbness is only two blocks over.”

“You’re probably going to fail. Multiple times even. Other people won’t understand,” Qrow said, “They don’t understand how much we…need this. How unnatural being without drink is; they can’t appreciate that we choose to go without anyway. Others will judge you for being ‘too weak’ or ‘not having enough willpower’ or that we don’t care for the reasons we stopped drinking enough. It’s why us recovering alcoholics stick together, because we can at least understand each other’s struggle.”

“It’s going to be hard. But as long as you remember the reason why you stopped drinking – and keep picking yourself up when you fail, things will get easier. I promise you that.”

A pensive silence.

“…Thank you, Qrow. For sharing. For everything,” Willow said sincerely, “I think I understand a little bit better now.”

“Don’t mention it,” Qrow said with a faint smirk, the playful rogue returning before her eyes.

He opened up the flask and took a sip from it.

Willow could only look on incredulously with wide eyes.

Qrow glanced at Willow confusedly and then at his flask with an understanding expression. His teeth lined up in a grin.

Closing the flask and tossing it to her, Willow caught it awkwardly in her hands, and prompted by a nod of his head, she opened it and took a sniff.

“Apple juice?”

“You really think I’m that shameless to drink alcohol after my whole schtick?” Qrow said with a chuckle.

Willow couldn’t help but laugh to that before closing her eyes and nodding her head.

“To apple juice then,” she said before taking a swig of Qrow’s flask.

“To apple juice,” Qrow laughed.

[himbos-hotline]

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? 🎃

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

YES SO MANY!

Honestly anything by @gunthunder Theyre such a talented writer and I am facinated by how they string ideas together. Theyre so spectacularly wonderful just as a person and a writer!

@banannabethchase 's hangmatt christmas tree harlmark fic! The entire story lives in my head rent free and I love how they portray Matthew I wanna hand him upside down by his ankle and I just wanna shake him! I love him so much

honestly anything from @old-no7 I dont have the amount of words to compliment their writing apart from the fact I love it so much and theyre such a talented writer that I really look up to them!

I don't think they're on tumblr. But the fic 'There's a fire in you that gets me all upset/And I'll bring up the past while you try to touch my leg' by wemademonsters on archive. Ive spoken about this fic before but It exists in my brain and my veins without permission. Just the entire descriptions and the fucking "It was when he had the chair raised that he caught the blue in Cole’s eyes. Blue like Kenny’s eyes. And all of a sudden he couldn’t, not anymore." If I ever write something as good as that I want it on my tombstone!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

As for my own writing? Theres a few that live in my head rent free.

I find myself alone at night [Unless I'm having sex] Theres something about the descriptions in this fic that make me yearn for that kinda energy again with my writing. The fact that its something that i've thought about for so long and finally scribbed it out in a way that im proud of. Adams weird longing for love to the point he thinks that loving Kenny will always hurt and thats okay because at least someone is loving him

Would you love me more? [If I killed someone for you] I got a comment on this the other day and my brain re-read it. and Matty is so sad. I need more adam cole/nick jackson and I may write more, eventually.

The ghost story would be over POLYCULE MY BELOVED. This exists in my heart rentfree. i love Jay so dearly [yall should come to talk me to about zem btw] and this story perfectly incaptures not only the love Jay has with her boyfriends but also with her brothers and their grandpa.

Ask game // Requesting rules // List of WIPS // List of AUs // Ask box

[encomtrio]

sam flynn/tron + give it all up by duran duran and tove lo

au: sam has visited the grid numerous times before the coup.

[sxtaep]

GUIDE ME (m) - J.HS

↬ description: as dirty minded and provocative as you were, when you told Hoseok you’d never touched yourself nor even fucked anyone before, he was beyond shocked. And when you asked him for a little help, he could never refuse his best friend..

pairings — hoseok x female reader

genre — smut, fluff

word count — 1.1k

warnings/tags — explicit content, bestfriends!au, softdom!hoseok, sub!reader, virgin!reader, first time, implied loss of virginity, guided masturbation, dirty talk, fingering, begging, praise, exhbitionism, voyeurism

a/n: i, in no way, have any experience with guided masturbation or masturbation in general (whoops, did i just expose myself?) anyway, i wrote this back in 2020 so my writing was hella rusty but i hope you guys enjoy anyway <3

song for this oneshot:

“You want me, to teach you, how to masturbate?”

“Come on Hoseok, you’re acting as if I’m asking you to give up your kidney for me,” you whine, nudging his arm as you both stood in the middle of his apartment.

“Y/N, I would happily give up my kidney for you, but this is different..”

“Different how..?” You ask, taking a step towards him. “Best friends are supposed to help each other out.. and I’m asking you for help.. are you really gonna deny me of your expertise?”

When you told Hoseok that you had never masturbated before, he was.. shocked to say the least.

How could someone as dirty minded as you, never masturbate before? And if you couldn’t even do step one, you obviously could not do step two, which was dick.

He could either risk it, help you get it over and done with and go back to normal.. but would that even be possible if he helped you ‘fondle’ your lady parts?

With very little consideration, Hoseok sighed, “Fine, but we’re gonna need something to get you started... What turns you on?”

“You.”

“What?”

“Porn,” you lied.

Hoseok nodded and grabbed his laptop off the sofa, “Follow me,” he says, making his way to his bedroom as you waddled behind him.

He opens up his laptop and brings up a random porn site.

“Any recommendations?” he asks, scrolling through the site and then turning his towards you.

“You pick.”

He hums and scrolls for a few more seconds, before clicking on a video.

“Here,” he lifts himself off his bed and points towards the top half of the bed, “You can lay on my bed, and I’ll keep my distance. I’ll guide you from my desk, okay?”

You nod and pounce onto his bed, quickly removing your leggings, along with your underwear, and laying back against the headboard of his bed.

Hoseok walks over to his desk and takes a seat. When his eyes fall upon your exposed lower half, his breath hitches and he could’ve sworn he felt his cock twitch in his sweats.

“Whenever you’re ready Y/N.”

You exhale and lean forward towards the laptop, clicking play and then going back to your previous position.

A few minutes into the video, you still hadn’t done anything, and Hoseok noticed by the way you kept your thighs shut.

Clearly, there was something wrong, so he got up from his seat and made his way over to you, lying next to you and placing his arm over your shoulders.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks quietly, looking down at you.

“I’m scared..”

“Scared of what?”

You sigh and then look up at him, “What if it hurts?”

He shook his head, “Of course it’s gonna hurt Y/N, it’s your first time doing this,” he says softly, caressing your hair.

Hoseok grabs onto your hand and places it on your pelvis, slowly moving your hand down between your legs. He uses his hand to spread your legs, before placing his palm on top of your hand.

There was no doubt that the video turned you on, because your fingers had already collected your slick, some of it also on the tips of Hoseok’s fingers, making him smirk.

“You seem more than ready... why don’t you stimulate yourself first?” He moves the pad of your middle finger onto your clit, before moving it in circular motions.

Hoseok lets go of your hand to let you continue the movements on your own, “If you can handle that, then you can handle the next step,” he whispers.

Soft whines escape your lips as you try keep up his previous pace, eventually going faster.

“Such a good girl...”

He tilts his head to the side and watches you pleasure yourself, tempted to just rip your hand away from your body and do it himself.

“When you’re comfortable enough, you can increase the pa-“

“Hobi..” you moan, making him forget what he was going to say. His name leaving your lips in such a manner had him shifting next to you, trying to contain the raging boner under his sweats.

He clears his throat and continues to speak, “Why don’t we start using your fingers now, hm?”

Before Hoseok could give you any further instructions, you were already one step ahead of him, your fingers prodding at your entrance. You breathe in before slowly sinking your middle finger inside, shifting in your position as small cries leave your mouth.

Hoseok was quick to calm you down, bringing your body closer to his and softly caressing your arm whilst whispering sweet praises and hushing you. “Shhh, just relax.. you’ve been doing so well, it would be a bummer to let that all go to waste.”

“But Hoseok, it hurts..” you whimper, about to take your fingers out but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he places his hand on top of yours, his fingers in between yours as he uses his hand to thrust your fingers in and out of you.

You gasp and squirm under his control, clenching around his fingers.

“You’re only gonna make this worse for yourself if you keep moving.”

He places his hand on your hip, keeping you still and your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you try to suppress your moans.

“Don’t hold back. Let everyone hear how you need your best friend to get off.”

Your mouth falls agape upon hearing his words, the embarrassment rising to your cheeks, and you couldn’t do anything because he was right.

You were in the arms of your best friend, his hand guiding yours, helping you get off, and he was doing one of hell of a good job with it.

You managed to calm down a bit, slowly getting used to the uncomfortable feeling, relaxing into Hoseok’s embrace. Quiet moans left your lips and you soon realised that one finger wasn’t gonna do the job for you.

“H-hoseok, I want more,” you breathe out, fluttering your eyes up towards him, seeing his jaw clenched as he looked down at you with a raised brow.

“Hm, do you think you can take another finger?” he asks, thrusting your finger in and out of you faster, leaving you no room to respond. “I don’t think you can.. you’re already close to cumming on just your one finger.”

“Hoseok, please..” you whine, gripping onto the hem of his shirt as your walls closed in on your finger. “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s not pain you’re feeling.. it just means your close,” he reassures you, placing small kisses on your forehead.

He was more than right, because a few seconds later, your orgasm washed over you like a wave, taking your whole body out as you cried out his name, coating your fingers with your release, some of it on him.

He removed his hand from yours and sighed in content, looking down at your exhausted form and smiling, leaning down to press a kiss on you cheek.

“You did so well for me princess, maybe next time we’ll add another finger, or maybe even my cock. What do you say?”

yikes..

please like and reblog <3

[daydreaming-away-reality]

Someone Special

Teo x Reader | ☁️ | 0.6k | Soulmate AU

Also posted on the app in the Canals of Sensitivity planet. :)

When Teo woke up in his hospital bed that morning, he couldn't help but feel anxious. He had been staying in the hospital for the past few week or so, recovering from his motorcycle accident, but hurting from his worries.

Even though he had been here for days, it was something about this day in particular that seemed different for him. He knew there was supposed to be something special associated to this date, but he couldn't remember why.

Shrugging that feeling aside, Teo rolled over and picked up his phone. Looking at the apps, he opened up the The Ssum.

He had agreed to test out the app, although he didn't remember getting much of a description of what the app was meant for. After a very brief introduction with the AI Piu Piu practically a month ago, he had a feeling they had just abandoned him.

He would shoot an occasional message out to try to reach out to the developers but came back with nothing. Looking at the past messages, he frowned. Should he just uninstall the app?

(Y/N) has entered the chat room.

The notification startled him, causing him to drop his phone with a cry of surprise. His roommate looked at him with a funny look.

"Sorry," Teo apologized before reaching out to grab his phone with his good hand.

Staring at the words that appeared in the chat room, he wasn't quite sure how to respond. This was the first person to show up in the chat room since the AI.

Sending out a few messages, he soon realized that he was chatting with someone. Meeting another person on a mysterious app - Teo had his suspicions, but if this was his way of meeting someone new, then so be it.

'I was looking for special someone, but this is where I ended up.'

Her response made him pause. She was looking for someone through this app?

'Someone special?' 'Uh...' 'Who do you mean?' 'I'm the only one here.'

There was a pause in her responses. Teo could only stare at his phone and wait while she got back to him. The waiting was making him impatient, but he didn't want to scare off (Y/N) by sending her too many messages.

The bubble with dots indicating she was typing showed up on his phone. Sitting up, he eagerly waited to see her response.

When the message came, he tilted his head, in hopes of understanding the meaning. It was today's date.

'Does that mean anything to you?'

His fingers hovered over his keyboard as he stared at her messages. A few more came before he could even type anything back.

'I installed this app hoping to meet my soulmate.' 'I was supposed to meet them sometimes today and this app caught my eye.' 'Piu Piu promised me that it would let me meet my special someone.' 'I'm sorry if this is coming out weird, I didn't think the app would reach out to the wrong person...'

The word soulmate stared at Teo.

His eyes were immediately drawn to his arm wrapped up in his cast. How did he forget?

Currently covered up was the black ink with a very special date on his arm.

Today.

Having gone through so much recently, he almost forgot about his soulmate. Even though he couldn't see the numbers, he had it tattooed to his memory.

That explained his feeling earlier.

His fingers flew across the keyboard.

'I'm sorry!' 'I've been in the hospital for the past few days.' 'Wow.'

He looked at the question marks that came back to him and chuckled.

'I never thought I'd meet my soulmate through an app,' he replied. 'You caught me off guard.'

'Oh?!'

Teo smiled.

'Nice to finally meet you, (Y/N)! I can't wait to get to know you.'

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[im-a-lil-simp]

Hi can I request a realistic/L'manberg AU with techno? I just want some fluff about how the reader put on techno's cape and pretending to be him and noticing that he's been watching them the whole time

Warmth (Technoblade x Reader)

Okay so I'm not the best at realistic AUs like this, but the request was so cute and I absolutely love it. I will be trying to pump out a lot of fics here soon though, you guys filled my ask box very quickly. Thank you so much for that! I had a lot of fun making this, just writing it made me giddy.

It had been a very long trek. Ever since your boyfriend blew up the entire country of L'manburg, you guys had been trying to fly under the radar as much as you could.

Since everyone knew where his secret base was, even his armory, you couldn't really hide too much. Everyone knew that you were dating the ultimate traitor of L'manburg and there was a chance that they might use you to get to him.

When Techno told you that he wanted to move bases, it made you sigh in relief. You wanted both you and him to be as safe as possible. If that meant moving bases, you were more than happy to.

It also meant that maybe the two of you could have a bigger base than the one you were in before. Maybe it meant that you could actually have a double wide bed that could actually fit your giant boyfriend and you at the same time without being uncomfortable.

The entire day beforehand, Techno went out scouting for the new base and where he might want to put it. When he finally decided on an inconspicuous place within a small village, he knew you would like it as well.

That entire day he was gone, you spent packing. Everything that was actually left in the chests got put into bags and ender chests. You tried your best to pack all of it, but you knew that a second trip to gather it would most likely be necessary.

When he arrived, he had you help him load up the horses, though he did the majority of the work. You felt bad for the amount of weight they would be carrying. They would definitely be recieving treats once this was all said and done.

Setting off on the trail to your new hideout, you had no idea what to expect. You didn't however, think it would take so long to get there. By the time you both arrived, it was around sunset and you were yawning on the back of the horse.

You unloaded things into what seemed to be an abandoned library, filling new chests with nothing but the bags that you had brought. You were right when you said you need a second trip.

That night, the both of you stayed in what would eventually be a very nice and elaborate base. But in the morning, you found that the spot next to you was vacant.

You stretched before getting out of bed to find Techno. Walking outside the building, you found him with Carl. He was prepping the horse to go back for the rest of the stuff you had left the day before.

"Wait, let me go get ready and I'll come with you," you said as grogginess nipped at your throat.

"No it's okay. I'd rather let you stay here and rest. Besides, there's not very much left, I can handle it myself."

You wanted to protest, but knew that it would end the same as it always does: with his arguments being the wiser choice and losing your uphill battle.

Settling on seeing him off, you stood on your toes to kiss his cheek (even if you're tall, it'd be kinda funny ngl). He pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before climbing onto his horse and setting off into the distance.

Walking back in your abandoned library of sorts, you rested for a bit longer before getting bored of doing nothing. So you decided to fix that.

You had barely sorted anything last night before letting sleep take over, so you guessed that would be your job for the day.

You organized things into specific chests methodically, taking good care not to damage anything, and still going slow enough as to not overwork yourself.

A little while after mid-day, you were nearly done sorting the items that were already there. Most of the chests were organized but you knew that Techno wouldn't let that last very long.

Nearing the end of your sorting, you came across something that you didn't even know existed, even though you packed the bags.

It was a spare cape and crown that you assumed were spares, just in case something happened to the ones he wore the most often.

The crown was beautiful. Similar to the other one, it was made of gold and red jewels rounded the sides of it. It was slightly different in the detailing, but regal none the less.

The cape was another story. While it was still beautiful, it fit a better description. It was made of a velvet type of material that felt smooth between your fingertips. Silky almost, but you could still feel the slight texture of fur. It almost radiated warmth.

Warmth was something that rang bells in your head. The snowy landscape the village rested on was cold, and you were ill-prepared. Sure, you had warm clothes, but not nearly warm enough. And the shelter of your new home only provided shelter from the elements, not so much the cold.

You weren't freezing, but you were not warm.

Deciding that it wouldn't hurt anyone, you pulled the cape out of the bag it was in and threw it around your shoulders. You snuggled into it lovingly.

It was indeed warm. You instantly felt warmer and you almost fell asleep right there. It was a blessing that you were standing up, or surely you would have.

After a couple minutes of relishing in the warmth, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a window. You looked almost as royal as Techno did. It was then that you got another amazing idea.

Digging for the spare crown, you took it in your hands, before gently placing it atop your head, as royalty might. Looking in the same reflection as before, you did a slight curtzy and swished the cape around. You could used to this.

Then you started to say things that Techno might, throwing on an intimidating voice and belting one liners that usually would make you tumble over in laughter.

You were pointing in every direction and placing your hands on your hips matter-of-factly. Taking one last spin around, you spun in a full circle before stopping with the front of your body facing the doorway.

You opened your eyes to see Techno leaned against the doorway with a slight smile on his face. He looked amused.

Your eyes were wide with shock and your face went a shade of red that could match the cape that you were wearing.

How were you gonna explain this to him?

"I- I didn't mean- I was only trying to- ... when did you get here?"

"Since you put the crown on. It was quite cute."

Your face turned a darker shade of crimson as you went to take of the garments.

"No no," he said, walking towards you, "you look like you're having fun."

He adjusted the cape before taking your cheek into one of his palms. His hands were cool to the touch.

"Besides, I could get used to seeing you in my clothes, you look stunning."

He pressed another kiss to your forehead before embracing you in a large hug. Maybe one day you'd marry him and truly become royalty.

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

Ask or comment to be tagged!

1.5k

Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

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