#also when he basks in the sun it's usually either curled up or on his back

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

got caught up thinking about how the few bits of armour-free skin on legacy's body probably feels like lizard skin like a Komodo dragon and now i cant stop thinking about legacy with lizard behaviours. legacy who takes naps in the sunlight and licks things to figure out whAT THEY ARE LMAO poor boy has bad eyesight😔 that big ol eye ain't doing him any favours

Foul Legacy: the perfect blend of lizard and cat behaviors

he NEEDS his daily sunlight dose, or at least to be bundled up beneath several blankets to decrease lethargy, although the time where he is either basking or napping he's still very sleepy. you find him snoozing in a sunny patch of grass and gently nudge him, receiving a drowsy trill and a lick to the hand before he bumps his head against your palm. no matter how content and cozy he is, Legacy is very careful not to jab you with his horns even when he's nuzzling against your hand, letting out sleepy purrs and eventually pulling you down onto the grass with him for snuggles. fair warning, he will probably end up with his head in your lap, rumbling from the extra warmth and happily fluttering his wings

it takes Legacy a couple of weeks to be able to identify you from sight alone, since his is admittedly not great, so for a while he results to curiously licking and nibbling your outstretched hand. now it's just a habit for him to give you a soft munch in greeting, lightly gnawing your shoulder when he sneaks up behind you before purring, bumping his forehead against you. it's also a perfect opportunity for Legacy to drape his arms over you, his cheek squished into your hair as he cheerfully soaks in your warmth and slowly leans his weight against you until you have no choice but to sit down on the floor, a very smug and happy Legacy immediately curling up around you and effectively trapping you in an impromptu cuddle session <3

[minisugakoobies]

Whipped | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (no agab)

Genre: fluff, idiots to lovers, slightly crack-ish, non-idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: Mingyu's a stubborn idiot, but he's also the softest human alive, Minghao's kind of a jerk tbh, use of they/them pronouns for reader, this is honestly just fluffy nonsense meant to give you warm fuzzies

Word Count: 3.9k

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: No matter what his friends say, Mingyu is definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent not whipped for you.

A/N: Yep, another Mingyu fic. I can't help it. 🤷‍♀️

Unbeta’d as usual. If you liked this, please let me know! I’d love to hear what you think (but please be kind I’m fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

Kim Mingyu is not whipped.

This is what he forcefully reminds himself when you walk into Minghao’s party, looking sweeter than a spring day, a phrase which if he’s being honest is maybe a little more poetic than he’d normally use. That’s okay. He can be a little dramatic if he wants. Why not? Seokmin does it all the time and no one bats an eye.

In any case. Mingyu is not whipped.

That’s why he turns his head, pretending he doesn’t see you dazzle everyone around you with your beautiful smile. While he’s pretending, he also acts like he can’t feel his own lips tug upwards at the soft chime of your laughter, a Pavlovian response to your happiness. No, his smile is unrelated to whatever you’re doing. He’s just in a good mood, one that didn’t suddenly ascend to the heavens when you entered the room.

Mingyu’s not whipped.

He sinks further into the couch where he’s sitting, a little off to the side of where Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seokmin are talking. Theoretically, he’s part of the conversation, adding the occasional hum or laugh, but he’s really not contributing much of anything. He’s too busy thinking about you. Not like that. 

(But not not like that, either.) 

In any case, Mingyu remains firmly unwhipped - solid, unshaken, definitely not falling apart over you. He’ll be absolutely fine, as long as you stay on the other side of the room, where your charms can’t reach him. Except that he can’t stop watching you, and now you’re looking at him, and even though he averts his eyes, it’s too late. He can sense you walking towards him, his heartbeat increasing with every step you take.

Not. Whipped. 

“Hey there, stranger.” 

Instinctively, at the sound of your voice, he glances up at you, like a flower tilting its face towards your light. He nods at your greeting, mumbling a hello of his own. The others sitting around him all greet you as well, but you merely nod in reply, your full attention on Mingyu. 

“Do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?”

If Mingyu had a list of things he loved about you, which he does not, being straightforward would be near the top. Of this totally fictional list that does not exist. He admires it, actually, the way you have no patience for dishonesty or deception.

Even though your question is blunt, your smile remains soft as you wait for his response, and Mingyu rethinks his ranking. Item number one on that imaginary list - the way you smile, at him, specifically. It’s so warm, like being hugged by the rays of the sun itself. It makes him happier than he ever thought possible. He wants to curl up like a cat and bask in the feeling. If he’s not careful, he might start purring right now.

He’s totally super normal about you.

“Me?” he asks, stalling for time, praying that a somewhat reasonable explanation falls into his lap in the meantime. He’s only a fair-to-moderate bullshitter, so his hopes are low. He can feel the others staring at the two of you, very obviously listening, because no one in your friend group seems to respect boundaries. It’s not helping. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you chirp back, and he does, he knows exactly what you mean, just like you know exactly what he’s doing. “You’ve been ignoring my texts. What’s going on?”

What’s going on is that Mingyu is not whipped, even if it feels like his insides are turning to melty goo beneath your inquisitive gaze. 

“I’m not ignoring you. I’ve just been busy,” he shoots, aiming for breezy and landing just shy of nonchalant. 

“Busy doing what?” 

“You know. Stuff.” Oh god, he really sucks at this. “And things.” Jesus Christ.

You fold your arms, and Mingyu thinks it’s cute the way you’re squinting at him, one eye closed as you assess his response. Unbearably cute, actually, and getting worse the longer it goes on.

“Yeahhhh, that’s not good enough,” you inform him, and with one hand on his arm (Mingyu ignores the electric current that lights up his nervous system when you touch him. It’s just static and definitely not anything else), you pull him to his feet and lead him out of Minghao’s apartment and into the empty hallway. He follows, not because he’d follow you anywhere, but because he’s curious.

Once the door is closed behind you, you turn to him, a serious expression on your face. “Gyu. Be honest with me.” Always, he thinks reflexively. “This is about what those guys said the other night, isn’t it?” 

Of course you know exactly what it is that has his head spinning right now. The two of you have been friends for ages, but Mingyu still can’t get over how easily you always seem to read him. 

A few nights ago, Mingyu and you had been out to dinner with a few others, and it had been like any other time you were hanging out with your friends, lots of laughing and teasing and just being happy dumbasses together. Only on this particular evening, the food had taken a very long time to arrive, but the drinks kept coming in the meanwhile, and you’d gotten a little drunker than usual, and a little clingier, sticking to Mingyu like a magnet.

Not that Mingyu minded having you hanging on his side all night. Nor did he mind keeping a close eye on you, making sure you were drinking your water and eating to help soak up some of the alcohol. None of that bothered him at all - you were his best friend; why wouldn’t he take care of you? Especially when you smiled at him and thanked him for being so sweet, so good to you, over and over.

(He can’t even begin to explain how that made him feel.)

The others noticed. And commented. Mingyu tried to ignore them, but they just wouldn’t shut up. By the time they joked that Mingyu was your trained puppy, suggesting you buy him a pretty collar and a leash to go with it, he’d had enough.

And when he tried to express that, Minghao had shut him down with a scoff, a wave of his hand, and one word. 

“Whipped.” 

Mingyu admits that he’s a lot of things, but he’s not a whipped man. He’s not. He’s not, no matter what the others say. No matter how you’re looking at him right now, concern etched all over your lovely face, lip tucked between your teeth as you wait for his answer. He’s strong. And proud. 

(And maybe a stubborn idiot, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He considers just not responding at all, but he knows how persistent you are, so he settles for a half-shrug. You sigh, leaning back against the wall, arms crossing in front of you. 

“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” you say softly, shaking your head. “They were joking. They said so! And you know I didn’t take it seriously for a second.” 

“You didn’t hear everything they said!” he protests, crossing his own arms. You’d missed most of the barbs flying his way that night, too busy enjoying yourself. Which weirdly made him happy. He hated the thought of those guys ruining your night. “They said I was your pet!” 

“So? Jeonghan always tells Seokmin he’s got the zoomies when he gets hyper. He knows he’s not actually a dog! It’s just stupid jokes! Our friends are dumb!” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “That’s what we like about them!”

Mingyu can’t help it, he starts to laugh with you, but then he catches himself, shaking his head. “You don’t get it.” 

“Then help me understand.” 

How can he help you understand, when he’s not entirely sure he understands it himself, this storm inside him, clouding his mind? 

“I…” He glances wildly around the hallway, but there’s nothing out here to help him. He can hear the bass from whatever song is playing inside the party, a low, steady thrumming that contrasts the erratic thumping of his heart. “I don’t like being called weak.”

You tilt your head. “Is that what they said?” 

“Yeah. Or I guess… they implied it. When they said I was whipped for you.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing he’s pouting and it doesn’t help his defense, but it’s just his default setting. “But I’m not.” 

Because he’s staring into your eyes as he speaks, he catches it - the quick expression of sorrow that pinches your brow at his explanation - but it’s fleeting, gone in an instant. If he weren’t watching your face so intently, he would’ve missed it. 

“Gyu,” you sigh, the corners of your mouth lifting in what is clearly meant to be a smile, except it doesn’t reach your eyes, and for a moment, the confusing tide of emotions inside him still, and he feels only sadness. That’s not how you smile. “Can you please let it go? Everyone was being an idiot. That’s nothing new! Besides…” You trail off, staring at the floor.

He waits a beat. “Besides what?”

You huff and shrug. “It’s nothing, forget it.” 

The uncertainty in your tone unnerves Mingyu even more than your fake smile. Where’s that directness of yours? 

“No, tell me. Besides what?” 

With a deep breath, you look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m not delusional. I know you don’t like me like that. I’m not your type.” 

Your voice grows quieter at the end of your sentence, just as the music coming from the other side of the door fades out, and to Mingyu, the silence only amplifies your words, leaving them ringing loudly in his ears like a sonic boom. You’re not his type?

He blinks rapidly, as if that will somehow help. 

“You - you’re not - “ He pauses, searching fruitlessly for the end of his sentence, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Right. I’m not.” 

The laugh you let out sounds so fake that he winces, and a terrible realization hits him. You’ve taken his stammering to be a complete thought - a confirmation of what you’d said, that you aren’t someone he’d like like that. Curling in on yourself, arms wrapping around your stomach, you shrink away from him, only a few inches but the distance feels so vast. 

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” 

Mingyu’s speechless. As his silence grows, so does the space between the two of you, until you’re standing by the door, hand on the knob. He feels like he should be doing something right now, snapping into action of some sort, but his brain is still stuck on your declaration.

“Okay,” he finally croaks, because it’s clear that you’re waiting for him to speak, and he doesn’t know what else to do but agree with you, because you’re usually right and he usually agrees with you. 

“Right,” you say again, but you look slightly unsure, and it rattles Mingyu, making him feel even more unsettled than before. “Okay.” And then you open the door and slip back inside Minghao’s apartment.

Alone in the hallway, Mingyu slumps against the wall. Well. That was a spectacular failure. He’d tried to explain how their comments upset him and all he’d done was upset you. The shift in your demeanor was so obvious to him, a flashing neon sign basically screaming “you fucked up!” in blazing red light. 

He gives himself a minute to try to pull himself together, then he returns to the party. As soon as he’s inside, he scans the room, until he finds you standing in the corner, hanging out with another friend, Chan, talking and laughing like everything is fine. Which, as Mingyu feels deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows it is not. 

His previously vacated spot on the couch remains open, so he slips back into it, ignoring the curious looks of his friends. He doesn’t want to answer any stupid questions right now, doesn’t want to deal with any of their crap while he tries to wrap his head around what just happened in the hallway. 

Naturally, his friends immediately start nosing into his business.

“What was that all about?” Minghao asks, turning to face Mingyu. Seokmin and Jeonghan both twist towards him, eager to hear his answer. 

“What was what about?” Mingyu replies, eyes flitting to you again. Chan must be bringing his A game with his jokes tonight, because you’re giggling Mingyu’s favorite giggle, the one that makes your nose twitch like a little bunny’s. It always makes him swell with pride when he coaxes it out of you with one of his dumb jokes, so seeing it right now and knowing he’s not the cause of it, well, it’s not exactly helping improve his mood.

“What was that dramatic exit?” Minghao gestures towards the door. 

“It was nothing. We were just talking.” Again he looks at you. And again, your attention is focused solely on the man beside you. Mingyu doesn’t understand. Can’t you feel him looking at you? 

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jeonghan drawls, miming the crack of a whip with his hand. Seokmin and Minghao crack up beside Mingyu, but he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to catch your eye. He wants to see you smile at him. Just one smile. That’s all he needs to make him feel better. 

His friends lose interest in teasing him when he doesn’t respond, and the conversation moves on. As does the evening. Mingyu bonds with the couch, not leaving except to grab refills of his drink, but otherwise he’s a fixed point in this party, unlike you, who are constantly moving, floating from friend to friend, spreading joy across the room.

Spreading joy to everyone except him, that is. No matter how much he watches you, your light never shines on him again, not like it did earlier. He knows what this is. You’re the one doing the avoiding now. And oh my god does he hate it. He feels cold and lonely, withering away, dying for your attention. For your affection. Because he needs it to thrive.

Oh. 

Oh wow, he’s stupid. The others are right. 

Kim Mingyu is whipped. 

For you, and you only. 

Like it has been every few minutes since he returned from the hallway, his gaze is drawn back to you, and this time, it’s different. Because the mask you’ve been wearing all night finally slips, and Mingyu sees the wrinkle of your brow, and the slight downturn of your mouth, and he understands. You’re just as miserable as he is.

That absolutely will not do. He needs to fix this right now.

Mingyu rises to his feet again, not even waiting for Minghao to finish the story he’s been telling, not that he’s been listening anyway, and starts walking towards you. When he’s a mere arm’s length away, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have any plan, just an urgent need to make you look happy again. And also pay attention to him, because he needs your attention just like he needs you, so he panics, and grabs your hand. 

You look at him in surprise as his fingers slip between yours.

“Come with me. Please,” he adds, a bit hasty in his anxiousness, already tugging you out of the room and into the hallway. A pair of voices follow you both out, as Minghao and Jeonghan both jeer loudly at the sight of Mingyu dragging you away, but thankfully the door drowns them out, letting only the beat of the music through.   Which would be a good thing, except that now it’s just Mingyu and a very quiet you. With your hand still in his. 

“Is everything o-”

“You are my type.” 

You start speaking at the same time he does, but he’s louder, blurting his entire sentence out before you can finish yours. Your mouth freezes in an ‘o,’ and oh, Mingyu can’t believe what a dumbass he’s been for so long. How did everyone else see it but him? 

“I just. Wanted you to know. That you are the type of person. That I like.” Why can’t. He complete. A whole sentence? “Smart, funny, gorgeous….” 

You glance away from him, suddenly shy at that last word, and it just reinforces Mingyu’s point. 

Unfortunately, it does not make it any easier for him to say what he’s trying to say.

“But you’re not just my type? You’re the person I like. Hao’s right. They’re all right. I am whipped for you.” He frowns. “Damn it, I hate it when Hao’s right.” 

That makes you laugh, a quick “ha!” that makes your eyes light up, and Mingyu finds himself feeling stronger, so he doubles down. Might as well own it. 

“But he did, he got this one right. I’m down bad.” He brings your entwined hands up, clutching them in front of him, maybe pressing his luck a little, maybe laying it on thick, but it’s barely an exaggerated version of the truth if it’s not pure simple fact. 

“‘Gyu,” you groan, rolling your eyes, but there’s a twitch in the corner of your mouth that won’t cease, and it makes his heart sing. “Knock it off. I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” He takes a deep breath and steps forward, backing you into the wall behind you. Your hands are caught between you, and he presses the palm of yours against his chest, wondering if you feel the spike in his heartbeat when you inhale sharply. 

“Maybe you should tell me,” you say, eyes wide but voice calm, and again, he marvels at how you strike straight at the heart of the matter, and he decides he can do the same. 

“I’m telling you that I like you.”

The next few seconds are the longest in Mingyu’s life. Nothing has ever lasted this long in the history of time. Entire civilizations are built and fall within the blink of your eyelashes. You keep looking back and forth between his eyes, and he hopes that you see whatever it is you need to believe him, and tries his best to convey clearly what he feels. Even if he’s having trouble speaking his thoughts, at least his gaze can express it. 

“You like me…” 

He nods. “A lot.” Now that he’s said it out loud, it’s hitting him just how much.  

“You like me…” you start again slowly, frowning slightly, “but you don’t like it when others point that out?” 

“I just - “ Mingyu breaks off, a sharp puff of breath exploding out in frustration. How to explain it? “I didn’t like them saying it the way they did. It… it made me feel like they were calling me weak or something.” Your frown deepens and he stumbles on. “But - but that’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I - I don’t care anymore.” 

He clings to your hands, a lifeboat in a sea of turmoil, the warmth of your fingers locked between his giving him hope that this isn’t going completely downhill, this sudden confession of his. It’d be just like him to ruin this with his impatience. He’s always too eager. 

“So what do you care about?” you ask, gaze burning into his. 

And then there’s you. Always so calm and direct. God, he adores you. 

“You. How you feel.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, you lower your eyes, in the briefest of glances at his mouth, and Mingyu feels that electric shock again, tingling all the way to his fingertips. He barely breathes as he waits for you to speak.

“If you really are whipped for me,” you finally say, “you should go tell them that.” You jerk your chin in the direction of the door.

If that’s what you want, then that’s what he’ll do. Without a second’s hesitation, Mingyu spins, his hand gripping yours to pull you back into the apartment with him. 

Seokmin gawks openly as Mingyu stomps across the room. Minghao and Jeonghan exchange a glance that last night would’ve set Mingyu spiraling, but now rolls off him like water. Mingyu comes to a stop directly in front of his friends, squaring his shoulders, trying frantically to corral his thoughts into something coherent. 

But before he can open his mouth, Minghao leans forward, placing his chin in his hand. “Shhh, guys, I think the puppy’s going to speak!” 

“Hao, shut the fuck up.” 

Minghao bristles when Mingyu snaps at him. Jeonghan and Seokmin both cackle, but then Mingyu glares at the two of them, and they fall silent. He takes a deep breath. 

“I just wanted you to know that I don’t care what you guys say about me anymore, because I like YN.” 

The words spill out of him so easily, not even the tiniest nudge needed. He glances at you to find you wearing a delighted expression and his heart goes buoyant again. He decides to ride the wave. 

“They’re amazing. I’d do anything to make them smile, so if that makes me whipped, then I guess I’m fucking whipped.” 

He’s facing you now, not caring if the others can see the obvious lovestruck look in his eye as he keeps talking, not to them, but to you. Aware that they’re probably all smirking at one another, because they figured it out before he did, but he doesn’t give a single goddamn. 

“I can’t get enough of their smile. And the way they laugh. I like how sweet they are. How honest.” Mingyu can’t stop talking at this point. It’s all gotta come out. “But never mean about it. Even when it’s something you don’t want to hear. Especially when it’s something you need to hear.” 

Your hand twitches in his with every sentence he states. He squeezes back gently as his statements get louder.

“I’m not kidding when I say I’d do anything to make them smile. I’d walk the ocean floor for them. Climb a volcano and surf the lava down barefoot. Capture a star fr-”

“Oh my god, we get it, you like them!” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Enough with the bad poetry.” 

“Also? We know.” Minghao snorts. “No need for the dramatic announcement, it’s not news.” 

Mingyu barely hears him, too lost in the way you’re smiling at him now. Forget his earlier rankings. This smile beats all the others. Shoots directly to the top of the list, which, now that he thinks about it, he kinda wants to write down and give to you, maybe framed. Or maybe he’ll stick it on his fridge - with a heavy magnet, of course, because it’s such a long list.

He completely loses all interest in the rest of the room, even though he’s pretty sure most of the party is staring at the two of you. Instead, he finds himself hanging anxiously on the breath you take, hoping for you to say something, to give him an indication of where things stand between you now. Because he knows you’ll be straightforward and get right to the point, whatever’s on your mind. 

You step closer, close enough for him to feel your soft laugh on his lips as you give him a look that sends his pulse rocketing. You’ve never looked at him like this before.

Forget a list. He’s gonna write a whole book. 

“Come on, whipped boy. Take me home.”

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

© 2024 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Just Dew walking around at night, thinking.

Dew is much fonder of the Ministry's grounds than people assume. Especially at night, when everything is washed in silver light, the calm and quiet delectable after a day of the usual bustle.

Not that Dew doesn't bask in the soothing routine of daytime either ; there is something so comforting, so domestic about the familiar sound of cheery conversations and hurried footsteps, the rustling of fabric following giggling Siblings, the sight of golden light splashing grand corridors, illuminating stained glass windows, projecting colorful shapes on passing faces, the distant sound of music being played somewhere bouncing off the walls, muted singing rythming the hours.

Yes, Dew loves the Ministry during the day, but night holds a special place in his heart. The time of darkness, only disturbed by the occasional midnight mass, is one in which the fire ghoul finds unmeasurable solace.

He slips out more often than not at this hour where the moon is queen of the sky, finally able to borrow the sun's shine for a few hours. It's peaceful, grounding in a way Dew needs more than he originally thought.

The gardens welcome him like old friends, branches extended like beconing arms. Dew brushes careful fingers along the velvety petals of well-cared for flowers he couldn't name, but admires all the same. Their scent is heavy in the dark, as if to make up for the way moolight tampers the vibrance of their colors. Dew pauses in front of a fountain, the water dripping from a woman's tipped glass weaving a soft melody for no one but the nocturnal creatures.

Dew supposes he is one of those.

Sometimes, in summer, whichever earth ghoul takes care of the garden under the blistering sun will stop there, sit on the stone ledge and splash water on their face, the back of their neck. The memory of droplets clinging to Mountain's lashes as he does so flashes in Dew's mind. The fire ghoul dips a few fingers under the shivering surface, unbothered by the cold.

He moves on, passes under an arch to access the vegetal maze. A wonderful place in itself, high hedges almost masking the sky, wild flowers allowed to curl within it, bright splotches of color amongst the fairly uniform green. One could easily get lost in here, the intricate paths as confusing as can be, but Dew has trudged through it far too many times not to know where to go. Bats fly past him, and Dew makes a note to take Swiss with him next time. Not only would he love it, the mystery and dark corners to explore appealing to him, but the multi ghoul might also be able to snatch a great picture of the flying creatures, and that would be a nice little gift for Phantom's ever growing bat-related stuff collection.

Cumulus walked Dew through the maze in between the two legs of their first tour together. She had linked their arms together, talked and talked and talked while they tried to find their way. It had been a lovely evening, all giggles and shared stories. Dew holds the memory close to his heart as he reaches the well in the middle of the maze.

Sheltered from the wind that starts to wistle high above, Dew dugs a coin out of his pocket. His wish is always the same. Saftey. For his pack, more than for himself. The coin makes a soft splashing sound when it reaches the bottom of the well.

Finding his way out is easy. Dew emerges from the hedges' benevolent protection, hair going wild now that it's fully exposed to the night breeze's playful fingers.

Primo's rose garden is just as beautiful as it was when the man was alive. Various kind of rose bushes clearly tended to with the uttermost care, a legacy more subtle than songs played time and time again. Even as he takes time to admire the sight, Dew is here for a purpose. He's looking for-

There they are. Standing tall in their ceremonial robes, imposing and regal but not too frightening. Primo's eyes are crinckled in the corners, repressed smile softening the lines of his face, Secondo, for all his severe expression, has his hand welcomingly outstretched, and Terzo, lips faintly curved up in a barely-hidden grin.

Hidden warmth, forever captured in stone.

As always, there are offering layed at their feet. Dew straightens a potted plant that tipped over. Siblings and ghouls alike came to pay their respect, as they so often do. Dew himself brought what he always brings : candles, ones he carefully crafted, mixing scents and colors he knows the Papas would have liked. One for each, protected in glass jars to make sure they'll burn as long as possible. Dew kneels at each of the former Papa's feet, lighting the candles while muttering quiet prayers for their peacful rest, mixed with thanks and apologies.

His heart squeezes painfuly when he notices that someone weaved a guitar string around Terzo's ring finger. Dew decides he'll go check on Omega soon, for it has been too long since he last did.

The lake is the fire ghoul's next stop. Chain or Mist might be there despite the late hour, but they won't surface even if they are, seeking the same solitude as Dew. The waters are calm, dark and decievingly invitating. Dew knows they are frigid at this time of the night, something that wouldn't have bothered him in his water days. Midnight swims were a common occurence then, racing Mist and cackling loudly. Standing on the dock, Dew let the vague melancholy clutch his heart. It's more of a gentle hold than an iron grip now, a part of him he will remember fondly as he moves on.

A shiny rock catches his eye, so Dew picks it up for Rain, who will know how to appreciate it.

His feet take him to the chappel afterward. There are dents in the outside walls, many occurences of ghouls climbing it to access the rooftop leaving marks. It has a very nice view, Dew recalls, which Aurora had been delighted to be shown. Both the sky and grounds visible in their full glory. Dew crosses the constantly open threshold, looking up at the high ceilings, the chandelier Sunshine once swung from with manical laughter, to poor Copia's horror. Dew huffs upon recalling that, the sound too loud in the empty space.

The rosay tucked under his shirt presses against his skin, gentle reminder. The rosary Ifrit carved at his bedside, waiting in anguish to see if Dew would pull through, if he would survive the elemental transition against all odds.

Hands skimming along the pews, Dew walks through rows of vacant seats, humming a song under his breath, delighted by the way it gently bounces off the walls.

The walk back toward the ghouls' wing makes Dew pass the old tree under which lovers so often whisper promises, tying ribbons to the low branches. They sway with the wind with all the grace of materialized hope and dreams. Dew spots the windchime Cirrus found half burried in the woods, restored and hanged here. Its sounds follows Dew until he reaches the back door Aether and him slipped through so many times, high out of their minds, giggling and trying to be quiet - to no avail, as a disgruntled Alpha would inform them the morning after.

Dew isn't really surprised, when he finally crawl back to bed, to find Rain and Swiss curled there already. They barely stirr as the fire ghoul wedges himself in between them, simply arranging their limbs to accomodate his presence.

Sleep comes easy to Dew.

[anonymousreader4d7]

Skizz Week 2: Days 1 & 2

I'm running really late on these, but I DO want to do them all, hopefully!!! And I know I'm usually an artist for this kind of thing, but I had an idea for some of these and decided to try writing this time instead. These will all take place in the RMAU-Verse, just fyi. And if anything doesn't make sense or whatever, shoot me an ask and I'll be MORE than happy to answer and/or ramble about it!!! Without further ado...

(Edit: Now also on AO3 here!)

Days 1&2: Calm/Chaos & Sun/Storm

(Note: at least this drabble takes place after a fic I'm still writing, and there will be some slight references to what happens in that fic. I'll be happy to explain things if anyone wants to know.)

It's been awhile since he joined, but some days, the fact that he's on Hermitcraft with Impulse - and Tango and Zedaph and Grian and Scar and Gem and… and all the other Hermits - sometimes it just hits him again. It'd been years of being apart since Impulse was summoned to Hermitcraft and Skizz was… left behind isn't quite right, but it's not exactly wrong either. Sure, they'd seen each other on and off, and more so during season breaks, but it just… wasn't the same. But now he's here, he's back with his Buddy - his Partner - and their other friends, now he's on Hermitcraft with them. He's finally home…

And it's been a few days now since the Incident, everyone's instincts have calmed back down, and Skizz is sitting about halfway up on the outside of his newly “finished” pyramid, simply basking in the warm sunlight of Hermitcraft. He's just stretching out his wings to catch some more sun, when he feels a soft ping of curiosity, of where are you, whatcha doin’? from the other side of his Bond with Impulse. He sits up a little further, wings flapping softly, and turns his attention inward towards said Bond.

Dippledop! I'm just sitting on my Pyramid, soakin’ up some sun! What about you, hommeh buddeh?

He accompanies his words with a warm wash of fondness and welcome invitation. He's answered with a flash of eagerness, acceptance, and matching fondness. 

Nothing much. Which side?

Facing Gem’s. 

Only a couple seconds later, Impulse swoops around the corner of the pyramid and glides up to land beside Skizz. He can't help but smile up at his Partner, his best friend, as he stretches out one wing for Impulse to sit next to him. And he does, tucking himself under Skizz's wing and letting his own wing wrap around Skizz's back underneath the white feathered wing draped overtop him. 

“Hey hommeh buddeh!”

Impulse hums happily and leans further into Skizz. 

“Hey Skizz.”

They sit in calm silence for a while, simply basking in the warmth of the sunlight and their Bond. Skizz hums happily as Impulse rests his head against his shoulder, and he carefully leans his own head into Impulse's. It's been a while since they sat together like this, nothing really pressing to do, just… enjoying each other's presence.

It's a while before either of them speaks, and it's only after they see Gem exit one of her buildings and start walking around. 

“I missed this.”

Skizz feels Impulse shift slightly to look up at him, and lifts his head to give him more range of movement. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, just… us just hanging out together. Nothing pressing to do. It's nice.”

Impulse hums and sets his head back on Skizz's shoulder, and Skizz lets his own head fall back onto Impulse's. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is nice.”

They lapse back into silence for a while. This time it lasts until they're spotted by Gem from down below. She waves up at them and waits for their answering waves before going back to what she was doing. 

Skizz feels Impulse let out a big sigh and press a little further into his side, his tail swishing to curl around his own. He lets the wings on his tail wrap around Impulse's and secure the loop. A wash of overwhelming contentment and delight echoes down the Bond. Skizz lets out a questioning hum, and backs it with his own little burst of curious query.

“I'm just… really glad you're here, man.”

Skizz squeezes his wing around Impulse and presses his head further into his Bondmate’s with a pleasantly surprised noise. 

“Awwww, Dippledop! I'm glad I'm here too!!!”

Impulse shoves him sideways and Skizz can't help but burst into laughter, which only drags Impulse with him. They're loud enough that they notice Gem in the distance lift her head up, look at them, shake her head fondly before going back to working on one of her builds. That only makes them laugh harder, leaning back into each other in helpless giggles. 

Slowly, eventually, they settle back down, leaning into each other as the remnants of a few final giggles shake through them. A lazy warmth overtakes them between the calm contentment of their Bond and the soothing sunlight. A soft purr begins rumbling out of Impulse's chest, and Skizz can't help but grin. 

“You happy there, Dippledop?”

Impulse huffs and pushes Skizz over somewhat by flopping further on top of him, weight pressing him into the pyramid beneath them. His purr never really stops, however, and Skizz's grin only grows as Impulse playfully snarks back. 

“Shut up, dude!”

Skizz snickers but decides to simply shift to be more comfortable underneath his Partner's weight rather than continue messing with him. Between the warmth of the sunshine, the comforting weight of Impulse above him, the soothing purr rumbling through both their chests now, and the soft pleased and satisfied echoes in their Bond, Skizz finds himself drifting off to sleep. 

In his half-asleep state, he feels more than hears Impulse's purr be interrupted by a questioning hum, accompanied by a soft query.

Gonna fall asleep here?

Blearily, Skizz blinks his eyes open and disjointedly peers up at the soft clouds above them. 

Prob’ly shouldn't. But I think I'm gonna. It's warm and I can't be bothered to get up. 

He feels Impulse shift to get more comfortable atop him and catches a brief glimpse of dark hair and crystalline horns as he lets his eyes fall back shut. The weight atop him is more evenly distributed now, and he can feel the dark wings spread further out across them to absorb even more sun as Impulse's purr picks back up. 

Yeah, I feel that. Mkay. We'll just… take a quick nap here. Surely we won't regret this, yeah?

Skizz lets out a soft snort. 

Absolutely not. 

Even in their minds, it's dripping with sarcasm, and it draws an accompanying snort from Impulse. 

Yeah. Not sure I care though. 

Me neither. 

With that, the warm sleepiness and basking feelings that have been growing in the background of their Bond push to the forefront, and they both let it overtake them and drag them into sleep. 

When Gem wakes them several hours later, and teases them to high heaven because they're exactly as stiff and sore as they knew they would be, they briefly regret not moving to one of their bases, but in the end, they decide it's worth it. A moment of calmness in the sunshine is exactly what they needed. 

(I'll post this on AO3 sooner or later too... - Edit: Now on AO3 here!)

@skizzlemanweek - I think I saw we're supposed to @ you???

[justfangirlthingies]

Morning Chase (Sunday Mornings) (Dad! Draco Malfoy)

Word count: 1477 words

This is just pure fluff!

Enjoy family time at Malfoy manor!

Here's part 2

Weekends at the Malfoy's were reserved solely for family. Especially the Sundays.

On Sundays there was no work, though the young parents wouldn't even have to go to work at all with the Malfoy and (L/n) fortunes combined. No special plans or duties. Just family. Maybe his parents, your parents or your siblings (if you don't have siblings just ignore the sibling part) would pay you a visit, but that didn't happen too often. Family visits were more of a Saturday afternoon thing after all.

Typically, it was quiet inside the manor when the sun rose and the first rays of light shone through the curtains in the master bedroom on a Sunday morning. At this time of day, Draco and (Y/n) Malfoy were usually still asleep. Her form nuzzled into his chest, their legs entangled. From time to time, their son would sleep in their bed as well, cuddled up in between the couple, basking in the warmth and comfort they provided. However, most nights from Saturday to Sunday the boy would sleep in his own room.

When the sunlight would finally find its way through a slit in the heavy curtains, it would oh so often gently dance across Draco's nose and the rest of his face. This would cause him to pull you closer and hide his face in your hair or his pillow in order to escape the light, which was sure to blind him slightly if he dared to open his eyes. Eventually, the stirring and shuffling of your husband would wake you. On days like these you would pull each other closer, still half asleep when you'd hear the sound of a door opening and closing down the hall, followed by the pitter patter of small feet and thereafter, the noise of the wooden bedroom door squeaking as it was opened, the small footsteps resuming.

Seeing as your face was practically buried in Draco's chest, you were certain he felt the smile that made its way onto your face when you felt the mattress dip slightly, due to the little boy who was climbing onto the bed. Soon there was a lot of shuffling surrounding you and you could feel the light weight of your darling son shift around on top of you as he climbed over you as carefully as he could manage. Once he had succeeded in stepping over you, he'd try to squeeze his small form between the two of you. A quiet chuckle resonated from where your head was placed and you finally opened one of your eyes. Your (e/c) eye meeting a pair of silver irises. Those he had inherited from his father, no doubt, just like the hair and nose. "Good morning sweetheart, did you sleep well?" you smiled at him as you opened your other eye as well, caressing the soft skin of his cheek with one hand as you untangled yourself from your husband, to make some space for the boy. "Good mornin mummy! I slept well!" He returned your greeting gleefully and engulfed you in a hug, which you returned immediately. Fingers gently running through his soft platinum hair. Draco admired the two of you, adoration filled his gaze as he watched you engage with each other, sometimes he was still baffled how he had made it this far. It happened often that he questioned himself about how he possibly deserved you and why you had decided to give him a chance back then. Why you had chosen to stay with him of all people, a bully and former death eater. He couldn't help but wonder how he deserved such a perfect, loving little family. But it didn't matter how and why, all that really mattered was that he had the two of you and that he'd give everything in his power to keep you safe and happy- His thoughts were cut off when he was pulled back to reality by his son "Daddy!" the smaller looking version of Draco must've just noticed that his other parent was awake as well, so he left your embrace to jump into his father's arms. "Scorpius!" Your husband exclaimed, he sat up rather quickly, just in time to catch the child in his arms. A loud, rather overdramatic "OOF!" fell from the blonde's lips as he let himself fall backwards into the bed again, but not before emitting another over exaggerated groan. The young Malfoy held onto his father as he squealed in delight. You yourself couldn't help but giggle at the scene before you. You were absolutely bedazzled with the way your two boys interacted. You watched as a sly smirk crossed Draco's features, he whispered something to Scorpius, all the while keeping his steely gaze directed at you. The way your son's lips curled up into a huge grin as he took in whatever it was that your husband instructed could only mean mischief. You decided to play along, after all Sundays were for family. So you got up cautiously, two pairs of eyes trained on your every move as you sprinted out of the room and through the house. Your son's laughter could be heard somewhere not so far behind you. You were quick to hide in the playroom, a place where you knew they'd surely find you. It was a game after all and not one you intended to win. You were right because after a few minutes the door to the playroom opened and you came face to face with Scorpius. Just as he was about to call for his dad you pressed a gentle finger to his lips " Hey buddy, how about we do whatever you and daddy have planned for me, to daddy?" He seemed to ponder for a moment before a grin appeared on his lips and he nodded "DADDY! I FOUND MOMMY IN THE PLAYROOM!" Not even 10 seconds later the love of your life stood in the door frame, a mysterious glimmer in his eyes as he approached you. Then from one moment to the next you were scooped up bridal style in the man's arms "We've got you now!" a cocky smirk was plastered on his face, yet his eyes were full of affection. Grey eyes you could always get lost in. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, that act effectively ripped you from your trance and was also your clue to start acting distressed. So you did.

"No! Please let me go!" you laughed, thrashing around in his arms, but Draco didn't budge, he just held onto you tighter, by doing so he restrained you from your little play fight and just carried you back to the bedroom where he threw you onto the king-sized bed. "Never!" he played along and trapped you under his body. Scorpius let out a joyful laugh and when he saw you wiggle your eyebrows at him and then shift your gaze to his father, he took the hint and tackled Draco with all his might. Having caught the man off guard he actually lost balance and rolled off you, the groan leaving his throat this time was an authentic one "Scorpius, you can't just betray me like that!" The adult whined. Needless to say, you hadn't expected your son to do that either, he was always such a gentle soul, which is why you were taken by surprise for a moment. The realization that the tackle attack actually happened and your husband's reaction to it caused you to wheeze and roll around the bed because you had found it so funny. "Oh, so you think this is funny, do you?" Draco frowned. "Yes" you took a deep breath before your laughing continued, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from the fun you were having "Yes I think this is hilarious" A smaller hand pulled on your fingers to get you to stop laughing, a bright, flashing smile belonged to the owner of the small hand "Come on mommy, help" You tried to compose yourself as you watched the four-year-old climb onto your husband's chest and start tickling him. As soon as you managed to calm down and gained control over your breathing back, you joined in and helped with tickling Draco, who laughed and wiggled around to escape, until he declared surrender "I give up! Please stop, I yield! I yield!" ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ Sunday mornings were quality time spent together. Sunday mornings meant relieving the house elves of their duty to prepare breakfast and to try yourself instead. Those days stood for a mess in the kitchen and big smiles on everyone's faces. Sunday mornings were reserved for family breakfast and tabletop games. For story time and cuddles on the large living room couch. Sunday mornings were followed by family lunch and Sunday afternoons. ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Now, what happened on Sunday afternoons?

Taglist: @ateez-star

[sugako]

sunrise

asahi x f!reader

sum: just some ultra soft, ultra comfy, morning sex with boyfriend asahi

cw: 18+ minors please dni, nsfw, morning sex, cockwarming, slow sex, unprotected, lots of aftercare, fluff and cuddles

a/n: needed a break from rough stuff ive been working on (posting soon!) also sorry i won’t be as active - my semester just started up

the soft glow of the sun rising peaked through your curtains, illuminating asahi's face just enough to stir him. you basked in these early morning hours. he always looked so relaxed, so at peace when he was sleeping. while he certainly wasn't the same nervous apprentice designer you had first met in tokyo, he still had his moments.

his nose scrunched as you pushed a long curl out of his face. recognizing your warm touch, his eyes fluttered open and he hummed into your embrace.

"morning," he whispered, low voice thick with sleep.

"morning," you chirped back. his eyes slowly closed again and he squeezed your elbow. you smiled, turning around and nestling your back against his chest just as he liked. his heavy arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

he breathed in the delicate scent of your shampoo with his nose nuzzled against the back of your head. the soft blow of his breath against your cheek made you shiver just enough to make you stretched back against the stiffness in his fleece sleep pants. 

asahi groaned lowly, fingers gripping a little harder around your waist. unless he was feeling particularly in need of your body, he usually allowed you to initiate most things, not that you minded. after you took the first plunge he was always glad to keep it moving. 

"asahi..." you mumble out, wiggling your ass harder against his hips, "...want you."

"okay, baby." he groaned as you pushed back again, holding your hips in place while he tugged his hard cock out. large hands slid between the warmth of your thighs, still bare from last night's events.

you moved your leg with the motions of his hand as he eased it back and over his thigh. he tucked the length of his cock to be neatly nestled between your slip, thick drooling tip teasing at your clit. giving your hips a reassuring knead, he reached around to rub soft circles against the sensitive bud.

"don't need that...just put it in." you quietly whine as he ruts his cock through your slowly wetting folds, spreading the slick around as best he can without jostling either of you too much. 

he lovingly sighs into your neck. "in a second, baby, in a second."

you knew he was right. besides, he lived to make you feel good, so the idea of forcing his girthy cock into your tight, little hole without any prep wasn't entirely appealing unless you really wanted it. 

so instead you let him caress and kiss you until you were dripping. feeling how damp your thighs had become and hearing the squelch of his cock against your pussy, you couldn't take it any longer.

"p-please, now." you whimper and pull his wrist away from your aching center. grateful for your plea and secretly impatient himself, asahi smiles from behind you and presses a gentle peck against the side of your head.

“‘course baby.” 

you’re so wet his fat tip practically slips in and he slowly pushes into you, pulling you closer until he's as flush against you as he can be. clenching around him, you try to focus only on relaxing around his thick length. your own eyes begin to flutter shut again, warmed by the feeling of him just existing inside of you.

still tired, asahi makes no motion to move. he's also perfectly content to rest against and inside you for as long as he can.

a long string of minutes pass while you lay, joined together, simply enjoying the feeling. but eventually, he finds himself unable to stay still and gently pumps into you. the elongated time he had spent inside of you had only made you wetter and more shaped to him, feeling how your cunt is creaming and drooling down his thighs. 

he reaches a hand around again, knowing he won't last long after laying inside you for such a long time, to once again rub tiny circles into your now-throbbing clit.

it took very little for you to come undone under his careful ministrations. your hips twitch back against his as your fingers sunk into his arm that was holding you close just under your chest. his own thrusts gained some power and lost precision as he began to empty himself into you, pretty moans reverberating in your ears.

for another lingering amount of time, unknown to you, he remained sheathed within you until, at last, he slowly pulled out. he gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek, promising to be right back.

moments later he had returned with a soft, damp towel and peeled back the blanket to carefully clean up the mess of cum between your legs. when he finishes he tosses the towel in the nearby hamper, leaning down to press two feather light kisses to both your thighs.

"good?" he questioned, pulling the blanket back up around the two of you as he snuggles in beside you. nodding, you reached out and laid your head against his broad chest.

“very good.” 

[dreamerstreamer]

Noise Complaint

Pairing: Wilbur Soot x gn!neighbour!reader

Summary: The guy living next door to you never seemed to shut up, and one day you decide that you’ve had enough. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: this work was inspired by wilbur’s recent eviction notice (lol), dodie’s song, absolutely smitten, and my recent pasta addiction! by the way, this may or may not be entirely accurate, but who cares? let me have some fun!

You hummed as you scooped the last of the pasta onto your plate, furrowing your brows. Something’s missing. 

It hit you in a flash, your eyes lighting up as you turned on your heel to scramble into your kitchen. You strolled over to the windowsill where a small potted plant sat, basking in the sun’s warm, golden rays. “Hey, basil,” you said quietly, reaching over. “This might hurt a little, but it’ll only be a pinch.”

Tugging gently and carefully, you picked a few leaves off the plant’s branches, wincing a little. “Thank you,” you murmured with an apologetic smile as you turned away, walking over to your sink. You gave the leaves a quick wash before grabbing a knife from its spot in your knife block. With ease, you chopped the leaves into smaller bits, scooping them up with one hand while the other set the knife down on the cutting board. You skipped back over to your dining room with a small skip in your step, grinning as you took the chopped bits of basil in your hand and sprinkled them across the pasta in your plate.

Perfect, you thought to yourself with a small smile, stepping back to admire your work. With a satisfied grin, you slipped into your chair, picking up your fork as you began to dig in.

Today was your first day off in ages, and you couldn’t have been more pleased. It was a beautiful day out, and you had spent the morning out with your friends, catching up on everything over a quaint meal at your favourite restaurant. All the days spent running around for your boss suddenly felt like they were worth it and more as you laughed at your friends’ antics while you ate. While you had to part in the afternoon, you were more than happy to simply complete some household chores that you had missed out on during your usual hectic schedule. As sunset drew closer and closer, you found your stomach grumbling once more in a plea for attention and food. What better way to quench your hunger with some good ol’ pasta?

A muffled shout dragged you out of your thoughts, your shoulders jolting at the sudden noise. You let out a sharp yelp at the abrupt noise, holding a hand over your heart in an effort to calm yourself. After a second of silence passed, a frown etched itself onto your features.

Of course he was being loud, again.

You sighed, stabbing your pasta with a little more vigour. You loved your home, you really did. It was a lovely apartment with more than enough space for you to live comfortably on your own, and you had managed to get it for a criminally cheap price. It was located near your workplace and was even in a safe part of the city. Your neighbours were also wonderful, most of them being polite, friendly, and quiet. 

With one particular exception—the guy who lived directly next door to you.

You didn’t really know who he was, per se. You knew that he was your neighbour, that he mostly spent his time at home, and that he was loud. So, so loud. You didn’t think anyone could be this loud when they spent nearly all of their time in an apartment, but he somehow proved you wrong. If it wasn’t the occasional yell, then it was always “chat” this and “chat” that. What the heck was he even talking about? You didn’t know, and you weren’t sure that you cared, either. 

Even after having lived here for weeks, you still didn’t have a single clue who this guy was, but you were sure of one thing.

He was absolutely driving you up the wall.

While he wasn’t always super loud—miraculously, there were indeed quiet days—you couldn’t go more than a few days without getting startled awake from sleep or dropping something out of surprise. You were pretty sure you had already broken four dishes just because of him. Despite everything that had happened, you still hadn’t confronted him about it. You liked to believe that hey, this is just a one time thing, or it’s not so bad! You’d been feeding yourself these itty bitty white lies for weeks now, and you were starting to run out of patience.

You shook your head, examining the last piece of pasta on your fork with a roll of your eyes. Well, at least he was being quiet no—

Bang!

You yelped again, your fingers going limp in shock. Before you could even register what happened, your fork slipped from your hand, the pasta smacking landing on your shirt before sliding off you and landing on the floor. With horror, you stared down at the stain on your once pristine white shirt, the mark staring back at you mockingly.

Oh. Oh no.

You clenched your jaw, an incessant irritation clawing at the back of your mind as you stood, stomping over to your front door.

This was the last straw. You’ve had enough of his crap, and you were about to give him a piece of your mind

Pulling open your door, you only had to walk four steps before you stood face to face with your neighbour’s wooden door. Raising your fist, you knocked against the wood with an intensity that you didn’t think you were capable of. A few moments passed with no response, but you were sure you could hear some rustling on the other side of the door. You crossed your arms as you waited, tapping your foot. Just who in the world did this guy think he wa—

Just then, the door swung open to reveal your neighbour.

You blinked tilting your head back as you craned your neck at him. Your eyes widened in surprise.

He was tall, ridiculously so. With brown, fluffy hair that hung a little over his forehead and a dark, expressive gaze that looked down at you in confusion, he was also very, very cute. 

Damn him for being attractive. In another world, you might have even liked him. But right now, you had a score to settle. His attractiveness could wait.

“Hi,” you said, plastering a polite smile to your face. “I don’t think we’ve properly met before.” You extended your hand out toward him in a handshake. “My name’s [Y/N]. I live just next door.”

The confusion is his gaze parted slightly to give way to understanding. His lips curled to reveal a blinding white grin as he took your hand in his, shaking it. “Hello,” he said, his low voice practically enveloping itself around you. “I’m Wilbur Soot.”

His hands are so warm, your heart prompted. And soft. His smile is also really pretty. And his voice is so nice!

Shut up, you thought back as you pulled your hand from his. This was unfair. So unfair.

“I moved in a little under a month ago,” you began slowly, doing your best to keep your tone civil and calm, “and I only just realized that I never properly introduced myself to you.”

Wilbur’s grin only seemed to grow wider, and you hated just how sincere it was. “Well, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes darted down to your shirt, and you watched as he shifted awkwardly. “Oh, you, um, have something on your shirt.” He gestured to the bottom of his sweater with a sheepish smile, and you felt yourself losing your grip.

“I know,” you said between clenched teeth. “I spilled some pasta on it. As a matter of fact, I’m actually here to talk to you about that.”

His eyebrows knit together. “About pasta?”

The smile dropped from your face. Oh, that was it.

“Look,” you said sharply, feeling the slightest tinge of delight when you saw him jump a bit at your sudden shift in tone, “if I’m being blatantly honest, you can be really loud at these completely arbitrary times, and I’m just asking you to please, please be at least a little quieter. I startle easily, and your random yelling or wall-smacking or whatever have really been causing problems for me.”

“Like your shirt,” he said quietly.

“Like my shirt,” you confirmed.

The look on his face was genuinely upset, and you almost let yourself feel bad for calling him out. Almost.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had no idea that this was a problem. This is going to sound really weird, but it’s...” He paused. “...kind of my job to occasionally yell?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “‘It’s kind of your job...’” You shook your head. “Oh, forget it. Just... if you can, I would really appreciate if you could keep it down, even if only a little.” You grimaced. “I don’t think I can handle dropping another bowl.”

He winced, a wave of guilt flashing across his face. “Seriously,” he said, “I’m really, really sorry. The other neighbours said they were fine with me being a bit loud when I first came here, and I hadn’t even realized that you were new.” He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a wallet. “If you’d like, I’m more than happy to reimburse you for any inconveniences you ran into because of me.”

Your eyes widened, your jaw falling slack. As much trouble as he had caused you, you didn’t want to just take his money. That would be a whole other level of petty.

Holding your hands up in front of you and waving them frantically. “No, no, no, no, no, that’s too much.” You offered him a smile, a real one this time. “Just a little more quiet is perfect for me.”

The relief on his face was evident, but there was also something else there. It sort of looked like awe. “Thank you,” he said. “I never meant to cause you so much harm. I’ll make it up to you, really! I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” you immediately said, raising your hand with your pinky extended. 

A part of you cringed a little at yourself, wondering how childish you must seem right now. Your friends always teased you about making pinky promises even as an adult, years after you had left the playground, but you stood firm in your beliefs—pinky promises were eternal. But for some reason you couldn’t name, you felt almost embarrassed by yourself.

It’s ‘cause you’re into him, your heart chirped, speaking up once more. You want to leave a good impression!

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Shut up, shut up.

However, to your surprise, he nodded, lifting up his own pinky. “Pinky promise.”

You grinned, elation jumping through your veins. He wrapped his pinky around yours and squeezed. You squeezed back, ignoring the tingle that went down your spine as you did so.

Pulling your hand away, you offered him a bashful smile. “Sorry if I came across as really aggressive. I’m not usually like this.”

His lips quirked up at the side. “I don’t blame you, really.” He glanced down at your shirt, again. “If someone made me stain my shirt with pasta, I’d be reasonably upset, too.”

You giggled, waving a hand at him. “Well, you’re a nice guy, so I assure you I’m not that mad.” You stepped back, shooting him a teasing look. “I am going to hold you to that pinky promise, though!”

He laughed and, damnit, even his laugh was cute. “I don’t doubt it.” Stepping back inside his apartment, he raised his hand in a wave. “It was nice meeting you, [Y/N].”

You waved back. “You too, Wilbur.”

As his door fell shut, you sighed to yourself, a sense of satisfaction fell over you. Well, that went much better than I expected, you thought as you walked back to your apartment. You strode over to your kitchen table, picking up your empty plate and fallen fork, wiping off the small mark left by the pasta on the floor. He’s nicer than I thought.

You walked over to your sink, your mind swirling with the interaction you just had as you turned on the tap. Wilbur’s face flashed across your mind, and a familiar, warm buzz ran up your skin, something sweet and soft latching onto your insides like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Oh. Oh no.

You recognized that feeling. You knew what that fluttering in your stomach was.

You like him! your heart sang, dancing around in your chest and waving a neon sign with Wilbur’s name on it. You tooootally like him!

With a groan, you frowned as you picked up a sponge. Shut up, shut up, shut uuup!

Wilbur Soot may be kind, polite, well-mannered, pretty, cute, and tall, but there was no way you were about to let him off the hook that easily. He ruined your one good white shirt! He just happened to be... less sucky than you thought.

“Wilbur Soot is just my next-door neighbour,” you said quietly aloud to yourself, scrubbing angrily at your dishes, “and I definitely don’t like him.”

But deep down, you knew that it was no use.

You were smitten.

[angelic-serenade]

“losing game” || fukuzawa yukichi

gif does not belong to me, nor do the anime & characters

fandom: bungou stray dogs

pairing: fukuzawa yukichi x gn!reader (1st person pov)

warnings: angst, lots of hurt and no comfort, emotional distress, barely mentioned mental instabilty, plot twist

a/n: just a little something i managed to write during the few moments of free time from uni. read as a letter to yukichi from the second paragraph onwards!! hope you enjoy, let me know if you like the new lyric-prose style i’m experimenting with!

word count: 1434

synopsis/prompt:  “a broken heart is all that's left, i'm still fixing all the cracks” ― arcade, duncan laurence

there is something noteworthy and indistinguishably patronizing which marks the mere presence of one fukuzawa yukichi – be it his wise and almost all-knowing gaze or his imposing posture, the way he manages to command respect without so much as a gesture anywhere he stands. he is authority and justice and that’s the only manner he allows himself to be, the only partial impression he allows others to make of him. sometimes i fret there really might be nothing more behind the carved, relentless shadow than the steely stares and unmovable frowns, lines so deep and intensely depicted that one might think of them as unforgiving – of what one may never know, if the unforgiveness staggers from the same place where the thoughts in his mind convince him that peace is something to be fought for but to never be attained. though sometimes the rough edges, the hollowed lines marking a tiredness which some days, some way feels all too familiar for comfort give way to a softer, unmistakably caring look; it’s almost imperceptible, the way he manages to turn the cold and unforgiving watercolors into a beautiful masterpiece, the true talent of the unrecognized artist  – his eyes lose the usually guarded edge which serves to protect everything but himself, his strained lips imperceptibly curl at the edge of a smile and the way he almost lets his shoulders abandon the weight he carries as if it were an old, battered companion brings to mind a tender sort of sympathy that sticks and can never really be forgotten – or forgiven for that matter.

akin to the flourishing of the most precious cherry blossom, you never allow for these moments to last too long, nor do they recur as often as to make those you care for expect them – in that, i think of you as more alike to the orchid than the cherry, for whenever the mysteriously grim orchid blooms, one knows not to hope for more time than its evanescent beauty can offer. cherries come to be expected, granted, but orchids never kiss and tell and you end up entangled either way. and after all, is it not the inevitable transience of things that makes them all the more desirable? if you heard me talking this way, with flowers and art and everything fulfilling in this life on my lips, singing your praises as if you were my last day of spring and sunlight, i’m sure you’d scoff the silliness away – this is your way, the way things have always been and always will be. no matter what you seldom sternly say, i’ll always be fonder of orchids than cherry blossoms anyway, for in their grave allure i found my own kind of tragic beauty.

by now i am convinced that you know and have always known exactly how much power you yield and how little you’d need to make me forget my own sadness – those moments, the careless slips of that bleeding heart of yours, are never meant for me. it pains me so to stand by your side without being able to bask in your praises, but that’s just how things are supposed to be – i am in your life, and that’s all i will ever need. sometimes you look at me as if you expect to see something - or someone – else in my place and i always end up trying to fill the void left behind by an illusion i don’t even know the name of. there is a hole that feels like an aching fever permanently carved into my soul, it spreads like an illness each and every time your voice creeps into my mind; even now i think of you and suddenly i feel much worse and better at the same time because you can never be the cure, but you sure as hell turned into my favorite medication. when i’m not by your side, in your beloved agency with your beloved family – the only ones allowed to walk alongside you into the sun - i delude myself into thinking i somehow may get over these terrible feelings that stretch my mind and hollow my heart, desperately convincing myself that time will wash away all of the promises kept in your sleeve. but sometimes, times that are just some and so unbelievably others, far in between and still so unfathomably precious to me, sometimes you let me hope and crave and i am almost convinced it could maybe be enough. the truth is that i have only ever known pain and i learned to make an addiction out of it.

once you called me by your side and i was quick to follow, as i always am because it’s you after all. under the feeble setting sun, the words spilled faultlessly from your lips, as if they had been composed to the likelihood of those poems about tragedy and grace i was stubborn enough to keep reading at night, and i stood in awe as you let me sip the most bitter of nectars, an aftertaste so haunting i knew it would forever ruin any chance of escaping this, of escaping you. welcoming the sudden flood with far more haste and yearning than i’d like to admit, you told me many things that day – about the agency, about your duty, about mine-, but you did not dare to utter my name even once, as you never did. you thanked me – me, little old, battered and faded, wide eyed and heavy-hearted me with no home to turn to and no more dreams in my closet to spare. you who had retrieved the pandora box and sealed it shut with your bare hands, you who had showed me another way, another path that nearly splintered my spirit all over again. i smiled still and for the briefest passing moment i almost hoped for you to reciprocate the minutest hint of affection; you raised your hand and rested it on my shoulder – it was warm, and it felt like water, like the purest form of unattainable salvation and i almost found myself crying in front of your unshakeable stance.

there was another time when you did gift me the smile i so desperately wished to keep for myself and i burn still, because look at what you made of me and what did you reduce my integrity to – i am neither blessing nor curse, the limbo of your love turned me into a willing martyr rejoicing the smallest act of kindness. you ruined me and i let you. i let you because a singular moment of bliss was worth the relentless tortures of your inferno.

i follow you around and keep you company still, but you never seem to acknowledge my unyielding pestering (just like before). when you let your guard down, my eyes lose themselves in yours because i can never completely understand what goes on in that obliviously rigid mind of yours – you look apathetic or sad or something that’s quite in between. oftentimes i worry for you, but you have always managed to cope and stand strong even as the tide came to wash away the last footprints of a decaying era, i believe you ought to keep doing so for another lifetime still. you have people who are dear to you as you are to them and for how much you’re unwilling to admit it, i also know that you keep a picture of me in your pocket, the one hidden on the inside of your austere kimono, somewhere between your contrite self-loathing and the lovely remnants of the day. when you think i can’t see you, i notice you make a habit of touching the spot where it’s concealed as if to remind yourself i am something right within your grasp, but that you’d never allow yourself to have. you never take me out of that pocket to properly relish the view and i will never ask you to. you grew fond of another illusion, as you’re prone to always do.

“the road to hell is paved with good intentions” i chant to myself when no one is listening, for my good intentions have only ever been inspired by you and burning and rotting in hell now barely sounds like a threat at all if i got to hear your praise just one more time.

today as you once again kneel pathetically curved upon my solitary grave, i can hear you weep yet; it’s been a while since you came to see me but finally for the first time, you call my name –

maybe you really did love me after all.

[parvulous-writings]

SFW alphabet// Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Request: There isn’t one- this is pure self indulgence. 

Submitted by:​ MEEEE

Genre/fandom: Fluff/Star Wars

Warnings:  None.

Summary: SFW alphabet for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Obi-Wan is pretty damn affectionate- when you both are alone. In public, it is often a different story. That’s not to say he doesn’t sweet talk you quietly when you’re out and about, but he rarely holds your hand when in places that the Jedi Order could see you. When you are alone though, either in his quarters, your Coruscant apartment or elsewhere out of sight, he is one of the most affectionate people you’ve ever met, giving you so many hugs and kisses it’s hard to count. One of his favourite things to do, during slower days, he’ll sit in his favourite chair whilst he reads, letting you sit in a nearby chair, your hands linking you both together.  B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Quite simply, Obi-Wan is one of the nicest and fairest beings in the galaxy, and the very best friend should you put the effort in to get to know him- though, even if you don’t, he’s still extraordinarily kind hearted, and ever the gentleman.  The friendship would probably start when he’s assigned to protect you- and of course he politely introduces himself, and you’re drawn to his friendly and calming presence. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He ADORES cuddles. All of them. In bed, in comfy chairs, standing up- anywhere, anyhow, so long as you aren’t discovered. Given half the chance, he would cuddle you to the end of time. He’s a big one for physical affection. A lot of his favourite moments with you are spent curled up together, talking about both everything and nothing, basking in each others company.  D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?) Obi-Wan would love to settle down- and he was incredibly ready to leave the Jedi Order for you, but you told him to stay, at least for Anakin’s sake.  He is a marvelous cook- and you can’t convince me otherwise. You don’t go out for secret date nights, oh no, Obi-Wan cooks you a delicious home-made meal.  He’s also quite clean, doing all the chores around his quarters almost every day or when he gets the chance between training sessions, meetings and the missions.  E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) If he had to, he would try and let you down slowly. He would try not to make a show of it and explain calmly to you why he think it would be best for you to go your separate ways. It would break him inside, but he’d keep his composure until he was alone.   F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?) He would like very much to get married to you 😊 you are his one and only living love, after all. He’d leave the Order for you, if you let him. Enough said, really. G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?) Very gentle physically, very very gentle indeed. His touches are always so soft, as if he’s nervous that you’re only a dream, and if he’s too rough with you, you’ll suddenly poof out of existence. It’s quite sweet, actually.  H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?) Like with cuddles, Obi is a pretty big hugger. His hugs are warm, and full of all the love he holds for you. You almost always catch his scent- the faint smell of spices, and it always calms you down, it’s soothing. His hands often find the small of your back and the back of your head, supporting you as well as keeping you close to him. I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?) Not particularly quickly- he tries to suppress his feelings at first, and it takes many weeks of being around you for him to even admit to himself that he liked you, not to mention how long it took for him to muster up the courage to admit his feelings for you.  Even after he admits his love for you, he usually only says the L word when he thinks it’s a special occasion- though he makes sure that you know he loves you in other ways.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Obi-Wan doesn’t often get jealous- he understands the need for close friendships outside of your relationship. But there have been one or two instances where his emotions have gotten the better of him. When he’s jealous, he can get rather possessive. He doesn’t mean to- he truly doesn’t- but he’ll put his arm around your waist, pull you close to his side, whilst giving a very dark glare to send them a message. (He’ll try not to do this in front of Jedi, and has so far succeeded in that regard.)  K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Obi-Wan’s kisses are often quite light and brief- as most of them are given in public. Kisses in private are much deeper, much more passionate, much longer. His favourite place to kiss you is the very tip of your nose, he doesn’t know why really, he just thinks it’s a very endearing place to kiss you. His favourite place to be kissed is just under his jaw, your lips just seem to press against his skin so nicely there.  L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?) Oh, Obi-Wan is a dream around children! He is a wonderful mentor to the younglings in the temple- a brilliant father figure for those who see him as such. Absolute father/husband material, I tell you.  M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?) They are sometimes few and far between, but... Imagine the most idyllic scene you can think of. Sunlight streaming through the window and lightly hitting your face, as the wonderful smell of breakfast hits your nose, rousing you from your slumber. There he stands, in his nightclothes with his back to you, as he cooks you a glorious breakfast. He turns to smile at you as you get up, moving over to quickly give you a morning kiss on the cheek.  That is a morning with Obi-Wan. N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?) Just as heavenly as the mornings. They’re quiet, more often than not, but they’re still wonderful. Though just as rare as the mornings, if not rarer, you both spend the first part of the evening watching the sun set, before dining together, and finally ending up in each others arms, talking nonsense till you both find  slumber.  O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?) Usually late at night, a month or so into your relationship. It’s not about what most people would consider ‘secrets’, but to Obi-Wan these things are incredibly personal. He talks to you about the bond he had with his master, and how he felt when he lost him, he talks about how proud he is of Anakin, all of it. It takes a few weeks and countless late nights, but you’re both all the closer to one another for it.  P - Patience (How easily angered are they?) Man’s a Jedi. The King of patience. He doesn’t often get angry.  When he does, though... Yikes. He loses it. Thankfully his rage is almost never directed towards you. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?) He remembers everything you tell him, down to the last detail. You mention something as a throwaway comment? I guarantee you he’ll be doing or purchasing something  to do with that little throwaway line. Every detail goes into his head and never leaves.  R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?) A time he found you entertaining the younglings whilst waiting for you. You seemed so happy, your eyes sparkling and full of life, glinting as you laughed. He leant against the wall, just watching you as you played with them, letting them embrace their childhood for a little bit longer. It is something he’ll often play it over and over again in his head when he’s watching you sleep. 

S - Security (How protective are they?) Obi-Wan knows you have to fight your own battles, and he does try his best to let you do that, offering guidance if you need it. However, when he knows you’re out of your depth- whatever that may be- he will step in and defend you in whatever way he needs to.  T - Try (How much effort do they put in?) He puts in so much effort for you, trying to prove himself to you even though you constantly remind him he doesn’t need to. He also finds it his constant quest to make it up to you for not spending more time with you when in the Order. You tell him not to do that too, but he never seems to listen.  U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?) Apologising too much. For not spending enough time with you, for being late when he isn’t.. Little things. Little, pesky things. It started off sweet at first, but quickly you found it to be a little bit of a problem.  V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Not really that concerned. He keeps himself clean of course, he has more than enough decency for that, but he’s not really that fussed. He’ll pay more attention to small things- like the style of his hair or how he wears his robe- if he wants to impress you, but he’s not exactly vain. W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Oh he would definitely feel incomplete without you. He misses you deeply when on missions- and even goes as far to use his holocom to contact you when far off and he can’t bear not hearing your voice anymore.  X - Xtra (Random HC) Obi-Wan is an absolutely divine cook. You want a meal that the canteens or cafeteria don’t do a good job on? Say no more, he shall provide for you. He’d cook practically anything for you, just to see you smile.  Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?) Obi-Wan isn’t particularly fussy when it comes to partners, however there is one thing that almost always has to be there. Manners. Otherwise, you may just have a few ettiquete lessons from Master Kenobi. Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

Obi-Wan is usually a sound sleeper, and has a regular sleeping pattern. This pattern is only slightly taken off track when you sleep in the same bed as him, and he’ll spend at least half an hour running his hands through your hair as you sleep, admiring the blissful smile that crosses your lips. 

[dapandapod]

Jaskier needs a hug

Honestly, @the-glorious-half-pints-twin, this started out as your prompt and morphed into something else. Im intending to write your prompt more properly because it’s super cute ang got Soft Potential that I crave.

But this is not what brain did today, so this is looooooosely based on your prompt, with another on it’s way. 

In the mean time, please have goofy random cuddles with a Dramatic Jaskier and Geralt with.. kind of a sense of humor?

Anyway, please enjoy!   On Aoe here!

                                                      ~~*~~ 

It’s been weeks. Months. Years.

Yes, Jaskier is dramatic, what do you want?! Point is, Jaskier needs a hug. Just a hug. Arms around him, or his arms around somewhere else. He isn’t fuzzy, but frankly, there isn’t too much to hug around these parts. 

All the good ladies are taken (it’s not much of a problem but Geralt uses that unhappy frown on him for days if he goes for it), most of the men lack most of their teeth (not really required for hugging, but that is usually not their only problem) and in general, most people he met wanted hugs to go somewhere behind closed doors.

Not that Jaskier minds, but he really, really just wants a hug.

What’s left in options is various monsters, trees, Roach and that one Witcher that accompanies her. Yes, he is talking about Geralt, keep up. 

Monsters, depending on the kind, would probably give him a great hug. Only once though, because he would likely die from it. To be honest, the trees weren't so bad. The trick is to choose correctly, and when Geralt comes looking for him he claims he is lost. It worked twice, after that Geralt tied a rope around his middle to keep him from straying. If he tries to hug Roach he will meet one out of two outcomes. If not both.

Roach will bite him. Or Geralt will bite him. 

And that likely applies if Jaskier actually would work up the nerve to actually try to hug that giant frown of a man.

So yes, Jaskier is grumpy, Jaskier is dramatic, and Jaskier wallows in these two moods and expresses it like an artform. Drapes it around his being like a fashionable cape. Swirls it around himself as he turns, dazzling all around him with grump and drama.

He really doesn’t expect Geralt to pick up the root of the problem. That might not even be what is going in, but three days into moping (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is) Geralt tires of the entire thing.

They are watering Roach just a little way off the main road. Jaskier is sighing loudly, kicking at the leaves and high grass and anything that happens to stick up.

He still has the rope around the middle, courtesy of his latest try to hug a tree, and suddenly there is a tug.

“Stop.”

Tug.

“Quit it.”

Tug tug.

“Fucking… What?? Geralt??” Jaskier turns around, all flare, to give Geralt a taste of that glare he may or may not try to be copying from said witcher.

There is this really tacky dance move Jaskier has seen at very very late night festivals. When one person refuse to dance, and the other pretends to pull at a rope to bring them to the dancefloor.

Picture this, but nobody is dancing and there is actually a rope.

Geralt is pulling Jaskier closer, looking all serious and stone faced and how else you wish to describe that dumb dumb face of his.

“What are you- Why?! What are you doing?” Jaskier doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t really cooperate either. Just like that dance move he ends up being dragged over to Geralt.

They stand only an arms width away from each other, Roach moved from the creek to graze at the grass, ignoring them completely.

Jaskiers pulse speeds up. Last time Geralt asked him to come closer and Jaskier blindly complied, he earned himself a punch in the gut. On the other hand, this time Geralt physically pulled him closer.

Should he...possibly.. maybe try to hug Geralt?

Before he gets the chance to try, Geralt grabs his shoulders with both hands and looks at him gravely.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You stink.”

And toss him straight into the creek.

It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to completely soak him as he falls face first. He swallows one big mouthful of muddy water, he spits and coughs with loud protests and moaning.

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME SMELL BETTER?! ARE YOU DAFT?!” 

He rises from the creek like a water hag, water dripping from all of his expensive clothes. He marches straight up to Geralt, heart set on revenge.

Yeah, Geralt weighs a ton. Have you seen the guy? He is huge, and even if he isn’t traveling in his armor it is impossible to get a good grip. Geralt is entirely too good at steering off attacks.

Fine.

Jaskier doesn’t fear death.

So he marches straight back into that creek.

Falls into it, hugs it if you will, and turns around again all soaking wet.

Take aim.

Launch.

And throws himself at Geralt. Not in the intent of trying to push Geralt in the water, but with the intent to bring as much water on Geralt as he can. Like a sponge.

Either Geralt did not anticipate this course of action, or he accepted it. Kind of.

There is some slapping and flailing but then Jaskier presses himself against Geralt's side, wrapping his arms around his chest and clenching that stupid (and STINKY, Geralt! Take a bath!!) tunic and soaking it as best he can.

“Hah!” Jaskier is so pleased with himself, he throws a leg around Geralt and dries himself off like a dog on grass, rubbing his hair and face against Geralt's shoulder.

So it takes him a moment to realize that Geralt is laughing.

He stops, looks up in wonder. No, not looking, staring. Geralt is laughing, throwing his head back that gives him that adorable little double chin. 

Jaskier doesn’t let go.

Of course not. This is way better than hugging a tree. 

“Done moping now? Idiot.” Geralt puts a hand on his forehead and shoves him off. Jaskier is too busy staring at that smile to struggle. There are wet patches on his tunic so Geralt takes it off in a smooth motion.

“What do you say, we make camp here for today? Wash our clothes and clean up? I'm sure they will put away the pitchforks in the village if we don’t announce ourselves by smelling. ...Uh. Earth to Jaskier? Hellooo?” 

Jaskier is not done staring. Smiles and bare chest will do that to a man. But he closes his mouth at least, so that is an improvement.

It takes a few minutes to get his brain functions back.

During that time Geralt takes off Roaches gear and she goes a bit further away to find more tasty things to eat.

They actually get around to bathe and clean their clothes. They bask in the warm sun, laying in the grass and just enjoy the nature around them and each other's company.

Jaskier seeking revenge probably doesn’t count as a hug, but he will take it. It feels a bit better and he is ready to hang the Cloak of Dramatics on the rack for a while and just enjoy the moment.

But again, Geralt surprises him.

As they prepare for settle in for the night, rolling out their bedrolls (with a respectable distance, thank you very much) Geralt sits against a tree and leans back.

Again, Geralt tugs him closer. This time by the tunic that he got to borrow, pulling him straight down between Geralt's knees and capturing him in a bear hug. 

Two hugs. In one day.

“Uh… Geralt?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare to move, not daring to wrap his arms around the witcher. They are chest to chest, Geralt holding him in an iron grip.

“Yes?” Geralt mutters, holding him just a little closer.

“Are you.. Why are you hugging me?”

It feels like his chest is swelling three sizes, a tingling sensation spreading through his limbs, closely followed by a warmth. 

“I'm not.”

It’s Jaskiers time to chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm.”

Geralts offers up absolutely nothing, but Jaskier now dares to let his arms circle around Geralt's shoulder with a soft sigh. Not the restless, dramatic and grumpy kind that he did before, but a content exhale. 

“I really needed this.” Jaskier admits to Geralt's shoulder There is no way he is telling Geralt, he has been behaving really badly today.

“No shit. I absolutely didn’t notice you hugging everything in your immediate vicinity.” Geralt drawls sarcastically. 

Geralt's warm, callused hand finds its way under Jaskiers tunic. Little electric sparks climbing up his spine and he buries his head in Geralt's neck.

Up until this very point, this could very much be something one friend does for another.

Still could be.

But also not.

And if there is one thing Jaskier wouldn’t mind, it’s that. 

Only, he is afraid it will go away if he points it out. 

Jaskier has seen it one too many times before.

And Geralt is the one person he does not wish to lose. His heart is beating hard, with every breath he takes in the (now much better) smell of his friend, breathing him in deep.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shit.

“No.” Jaskier says and yelps when Geralt pinches his side.

“Fine, fucking… yes. So what. You smell good.”

Geralt falls weirdly quiet and Jaskier has time to have a small internat panic attack and prepare to be shoved away.

“You can sniff me if you want.” Geralt says quietly.

They are stock still in each other's arms. It’s an odd thing to do, an odd thing to say. Jaskier finally caves and pushes his face a little deeper in the crook of Geralt's neck.

Geralt's hands climb higher over Jaskiers' back, and he leans his head against Jaskiers.

“You smell good too.” Jaskier almost dies. “Well. Now you do. Before the bath, not so much.”

“Fuck you.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nah. Would be real awkward in the morning.” Geralt says, and again they both freeze. Yeah, this is one weird night.

They don’t say anything more after this. Just sits there under the tree, listening to the evening birds and Roachs munching in the distance. 

And if they pulled their bedrolls closer together, and slept with their legs tangled, and woke up too warm curled together, that is just what friends do for each other when you feel lonely.

Probably not.

But that is not a conversation they are ready to have.

For now, there are only hugs.

[lihikainanea]

i had a thought. let’s say tiger and bill, they’re away on a trip. maybe she joined him while he was filming, maybe it’s a little getaway. either way, they’re staying in a hotel and that night they just go at it, it’s so intense, bill is all rough and dom and tiger is in heaven. he provides aftercare and snuggles up with her to sleep. but the next morning, he has to slip away because he got an important phone call. and tiger is still asleep, but when she wakes up, she’s so unbelievably out of it. she’s feeling super small, and it would’ve been okay if bill had been there beside her when she opened her eyes.

but he’s nowhere to be found. in her state, this sends her into a panic, and she’s already frantically calling his name as she climbs out of bed, peeking into the bathroom and out on the little balcony, but he’s not there. now she’s small in a bad way and she’s spiraling. she’s in an unfamiliar place and her big dude isn’t there to comfort her after the night they had and she’s a mess. so maybe she calls him, and he’s in the middle of his call still and he can’t hand up so he silences her call without thinking. but she calls again. and again. and he realizes that she’s likely panicking since she woke up to an empty bed. so he books it back to their room and finds her crying softly and oh he just feels like a big idiot because he left her without warning and now she’s small and upset and he’s gotta do some damage control.

this got so long but was thinking about this and had to send it okay

Bish I am just trying to survIVE and you comin’ for my life this way?

I swear to god I feel like I need aftercare after reading this ask, sweet nani. Because jeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus. What a delicious rollercoaster.

Alright let’s start at the beginning here. I have a very soft spot for these two idiots on vacation (as is uh, perhaps evident in the fact that I have an entire tag dedicated to the wonder of #vacation bill). And Bill is real handy to have around in the sense that whenever he’s filming somewhere nice, somewhere tropical, it kind of automatically turns into a mini vacation for them--tiger will either come out and join him on set, or she’ll come out right as he wraps and they’ll spend a week there. Her Big Dude will relax and unwind after a shoot, and she’ll get to soak up some sun and bask in his company before returning to reality. Maybe it’s somewhere real nice too like....like French Polynesia or something. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful place she’s ever seen.

And tiger is always a little more uninhibited on vacation--as she should be--and maybe Bill is also able to finally relax and not be as uptight, because this island is like....deserted. Maybe it’s one of those mini private islands. In any case, like--tiger can sunbathe on the beach topless. And nobody but her Big Dude can see--and oh, see he does. Bill spends like, hours just staring at the glistening tatas and he’s all too eager to manually ensure they are fully protected with sunscreen. He checks at least once an hour.

At least.

But it’s been a real good few days. Tiger is wearing big tropical flowers in her hair, and it’s driving Bill wild. That curl on his forehead is getting just a little floppier and a whole lot more blond, and it’s driving tiger wild. She basically hasn’t worn panties in a whole week because he just tears them off anyway. She’s wearing her cute little sundresses that make him salivate, and he’s wearing these white linen shirts with the collars all open so she can see the soft skin of his chest--a little more golden than it was--peeking through.

It’s a mess of hormones, of inhibitions thrown to the wind, of fantastic sex. And tiger is getting a little smaller every day because she just feels so safe and so well taken care of, and the smaller she gets the more it flares his protector and dominant side so he’s being even more caring and mushy with her.

And it all culminates in this one night that just blows all the others out of the water. Tiger needs it hard, keeps begging for it rougher, and Bill just also needs to dominate the shit out of her. It’s rough. It’s filthy. She’s pretty bruised by the end of it, an overstimulated mess, Bill can’t feel any part of his face or his legs and he’s really only half conscious--but the Good Dude, he takes care of her how she needs. He knows she’s way too sensitive for a bath, so instead he gathers her up and brings her to the bathroom, gets a few wet rags and carries her back to bed. He can’t even leave her sight for a minute when she’s like this, so if he needs to fetch something--he has to carry her around like a koala to do it. He wipes her down gently but she whines at even that, sits her up and gives her some water. Sometimes she’ll eat but sometimes her stomach is too sensitive. Once she’s had enough water he’ll make her some tea, because an adrenaline crash always makes her cold and a bit shivery. Blankets are touch and go, sometimes they feel okay and sometimes she just doesn’t want anything on her skin because the sensation is too intense. As she sips her tea he’ll make sure to keep touching her, keep talking to her--tell her that she’s so good for him, that he loves her, that he’ll take care of her, that she’s safe to bask in it for as long as she wants. He’ll rub out some of the marks on her wrists, run his hands along her thighs and gently massage out any cramps. He’ll rub some coconut oil on some of the bite marks, put some ice on some of the bad bruises. He’ll give her bottom a gentle rub down to ease some of the sting, and before long she’s basically comatose--so he gathers her up and keeps her pressed into him, keeps her warm.

Bill is always extra conscientious on nights like those, to keep his arms tight around her. He’s usually like an octopus anyway and she’s never able to get very far, but after a real intense night his brain works on overdrive as he sleeps and has a few extra alarm bells when it comes to Little Human. He’ll make sure he’s holding her tightly, just to make her feel safe. At the slightest stirring, the slightest sigh, he’s awake and checking on her--making sure that she’s comfortable, that she’s not in pain, or that she’s not scared or getting small in a bad way. Bill knocks out after a night like that because he’s exhausted, but he never fully rests because somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s paying a little extra attention to her to make sure she’s okay.

And look, 99% of the time--Bill gets it right. He knows that after a night like they had, he needs to be awake before her--and he knows that she needs to feel his arms around her, she needs to hear his voice as she wakes up, to know that she’s safe. Because the first thing that she’ll likely feel is pain, and then a bit of panic, and then a bit of embarrassment--all of which can absolutely send her spiralling if he’s not there to reassure her that she’s safe and cared for and loved. Bill constantly marvels at her courage and her bravery, to let him do these kinds of things to her, so he takes her needs real seriously.

But he’s not perfect. And sometimes--sometimes he fucks up. Sometimes he gets it wrong. Sometimes he’s a bonehead. And it’s just because he’s human, and he makes mistakes.

Maybe it’s not even a phone call, right away. Maybe Bill is a bit restless and after a brief sleep, he woke up and he just...he can’t sleep anymore. He can see the full moon disappearing, the sun waking up in the horizon. He can hear the soft waves of the ocean, can feel the warm tropical breeze coming in through the window, and he just can’t really help it--it calls to him. It’s still so, so early, just barely dawn, and he really thinks he can get away with just a quick dip in the ocean, a little soul-cleansing swim in the waning moonlight, and be back in bed to snuggle her for a few more hours before she wakes up.

So that’s what he does. He oozes out of bed real slowly and stacks pillows all around her so she’ll still feel like she’s in a little cocoon. He throws some shorts on just to have somewhere to put his phone really, because the shorts are coming off as soon as he hits the beach. And sure enough he heads down, gets nekkid, and paddles into the ocean.

It’s exactly what he needs. He sprawls on his back and just lets the sea envelop him, lets it ebb and flow and carry him as it will. He’s not in it for too long, just long enough to quiet his mind, and then he heads back to shore. And as he tugs his shorts back on, he pulls his phone out--and he sees a missed call from his agent. It’s still too early for tiger to be awake, and it’s late enough in LA, so he calls back.

And like, this is where disaster strikes. This is where he completely loses track of time. Maybe it’s because he wandered inside somewhere so he can’t really notice how much the sun has risen, maybe it’s because it’s a really detailed call about a lot of things he was waiting to hear back on--either way, he fucked up. Big time. And he realizes it all too late--realizes how far up the sun is, realizes when he hurriedly hangs up the phone that he’s been on it for 90 minutes, and his stomach just sinks.

And tiger, for her part, is way worse. Because I love what you mentioned here--it’s not just that she woke up after a rough night and her Big Dude wasn’t there. it’s that she also woke up in a strange place, an unfamiliar place, all out of sorts from a rough night, in pain, and when she whines and goes to snuggle more into him he’s just...not there. And when you’re in that headspace, when you wake up with your mind all fucked up from an intense night--it’s always the little things that set you off. Tiger doesn’t feel safe where she is. She doesn’t feel safe because she doesn’t recognize where she is, and Bill isn’t there--so that must mean that she ISN’T safe. And part of the reason why she needs him the morning after is because she’s so out of sorts, but she recognizes safety--and safety is his warmth, it’s his gravelly voice in her ear, it’s his gentle hands running all along her. That’s safety, that’s comfort.

She has neither of those things when she wakes up.

And it’s all coming apart very quickly. She’s crying, she’s shaking--hell I don’t even know if she’d have the wherewithal to even call him--and she’s in pain. Legit, physical pain from the night before. And as she’s starting to wheeze, she tries to gather some blankets and she just goes to the bathroom and shuts the door, huddles in on herself, and tries in vain to calm down.

And after realizing his colossal fuck up, Bill is gunning it up the stairs because the elevator would take too long. And he prays to whatever god he doesn’t even believe in that she’s still asleep, but deep down he knows she’s not. He has to try and take a few deep breaths and stop himself from busting through the door because if she’s already panicking and scared, then barreling in like a hyena is only going to terrify her and shut her down even more. Instead, he forces himself to breathe and swipes his key card with shaky hands.

“Tiger?” he calls out softly, “I’m here sweet girl.”

He hears it immediately: the awful, horrible sound of her sobbing and wheezing from the bathroom--and he opens the door slowly. It’s pitch black but he knows she’s huddled into the corner.

“Lights,” he warns her gently before he flicks the switch on. He’d leave her in the darkness, but tiger needs to see him and know that it’s him. And god, the vision he’s met with--he wants to kick his own ass. She’s all curled up there in the corner, naked except for a few blankets, she’s all bruised and a little scratched from their night, and she’s crying and heaving and she looks terrified. He reaches for her immediately, just gets on the floor with her and grabs her, crushes her to his chest as she cries out.

“It’s me,” he soothes, “It’s me, kid. I’m here.”

She puts her hands on his chest, thunks her forehead into the hollow of his neck and he hears her take in a small sniff.

“I’m here tiger,” he says again and squeezes her tighter, “And I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, kid.”

She wails when it finally clicks in her brain that he’s there, and that she’s safe now. She tries to ask him what happened, where he was, why she was alone, but the words are only coming out as gasps in between her sobs and he shushes her softly. He just squeezes her tighter, doesn’t make any move to get up off the floor, just stays there and holds her and tries to get her to focus on her breathing.

It takes her a really, really long time to calm down even a little after that--but Bill doesn’t move. He just waits. And eventually when she’s just exhausted from it, from all the adrenaline and emotion, eventually when she’s just crying but isn’t gasping for breath anymore--he hugs her tighter to him, and stands. She clutches onto him and he winces as she digs her nails in, but he just keeps talking to her, keeps rubbing a hand up and down her back, and he gets them settled on the bed.

“I’m sorry kid,” he says again, “God I fucked up.”

Tiger is basically a mess for the entire day. He can’t leave her side, and god she needs so much reassurance, so much comfort, so much touch and so much of his attention. He’s happy to drown her with all of it, because god he’s having the biggest fucking dom drop of his life and he just feels so guilty about it.

Maybe a day or two later--or hell maybe even more than that, if tiger isn’t in a good headspace for awhile--maybe he’ll eventually approach her, because he knows that he owes her an explanation and a more sincere apology. Maybe a few days later when she’s a little more stable--still not in a great headspace but better--he’ll approach her as she’s reading on the balcony that afternoon.

“Tiger,” he says as he sits on her lounge chair, “I want to talk about what happened.”

She shifts her eyes nervously, but he scoots closer.

“Okay,” she mumbles.

He doesn’t even know where to start. So instead he just grabs at her waist, shifts her until she’s on his lap so he can hold her close while he looks at her.

“Tiger I’m so, so sorry,” he says as he grabs a gentle hold of her chin, “I fucked up, big time. I should have been there.”

“Where were you Billy?” she asks quietly, “You’re always there when I wake up. And this time you weren’t.”

God, his heart is just in pieces.

“I know,” he tells her, “I couldn’t sleep, it was the middle of the night so I just left for a swim. I meant to be back in like, 15 minutes. But I missed a call from my agent, and then I called her back and I just...I completely lost track of time.”

She sighs, nodding softly as she fiddles with the neckline of his shirt.

“I just fucked up kid,” he says, “In a real big way. And I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” she mumbles. He manages a little lopsided, half smile at that.

“Are you okay?” he asks genuinely. And she pauses for a beat, but then she nods.

“Still a little fucked up about it,” she admits, “But overall, okay.”

“Do you know what I can do to make it better?” he asks, and she thinks for a moment.

“Not really,” she says, “I...I don’t know. I just want to be close to you. A lot.”

He smiles softly at her.

“We’ll start there, then.”

He basically has a little koala attached to him for like, a week after. Which is just fine, because he’s also dealing with such a massive amount of guilt at the fact that he let his girl down. That she was terrified and scared because he failed her.

[silkylious]

Tsunami (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Bakugo x fem reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

A/N: Ahhhh this is my first post on tumblr, i hope you like some bittersweet  goodness w angry boi. constructive criticism is much appreciated!

Love.

Such a complex, convoluted emotion that many people find themselves falling helplessly victim to. Of course, there are the cheesy scenes in romantic movies that exaggerate and almost drain all meaning from the prickly feeling; sharing a sweet kiss while basking in the cool caresses of dewdrops, or having a dim-lit home dinner -scenes which drove his gag reflex reeling, he simply couldn’t understand the appeal of mushing faces with someone when he had better things to do, to achieve. He was going to be the number one, dammit, he didn’t have time to waste on cuddling and doing “couple-y shit” with some extra. That’s not to say he’d never had a crush, or found some girls attractive, hot even, but he kept in mind all his “crushes” (he loathes that word with a burning passion) were merely fueled by his hormonal mind, driven by pure sexual attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. So, he never sought out relationships.

And that was enough for him to keep his peace, unhindered and undisturbed on his desolate little boat, one that he was rowing tirelessly towards his end goal, with no waves and no turbulences daring to stand in his way of firmly grasping that number one spot.  

Until a tsunami came crashing in, pummeling him off his safe cruise.

That tsunami was you.

He really should have seen the signs -no that’s not right, he definitely noticed the red flags raising in his peripherals, he should have acknowledged them. It started out as small, barely existent ripples, something to break the monotony of his journey and rock his boat gently. You’d always greet him with that stupidly bright smile, the one that made him feel uncomfortable, skittish (though he hadn’t realized why yet), the one that surely made the sun writhe in boiling jealousy. No matter what time of the day it was, how early in the morning or how deep into the night, you always seemed to make it a point to address him with that unhinged, cheeky grin. He’d reply with a curt nod, or a faint grunt if you caught him on a good day, wanting desperately to ignore the brewing sensation inside him.

“Hey, Bakugo! Did ya sleep well?”

He never replied to the tedious question, refusing to give into the one-sided small talk. That didn’t stop you from resuming your daily routine of pestering him about his training progress or babbling about some movie he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t pay an inkling of attention to the stream of word vomit pouring out of your mouth, no, he much rather zoned in on the way your lips move languidly, still upholding that infuriating smile, the way stray follicles fell over your neck, having escaped from the usual updo you were sporting. His concentration faded in and out of the single-sided conversation, managing to scrap together bits and pieces of whatever you were droning on about. Though he never made any effort in reciprocating your enthusiasm, he never shut you down either (like he would most people), and that was incentive enough for you to keep coming back. To keep talking his ear off with a cluelessly precious smile.

Looking back, he probably should have stopped it there, but he didn’t, he couldn’t help but revel unconsciously in your optimism, though he’d be buried six feet underground before he admitted that. It looked all too peaceful, he didn’t mind the soft stir in his boat, and he was more than content to leave it at that. But then you had to go and push your luck.

You were infinitely aware that he treated you… differently, to say the least, your classmates were also painfully conscious of his strangely tamed and, dare I say, docile way he acted around you, everyone with eyes could see it, except him apparently. Even if he was agonizingly oblivious to his own feelings, yours too, your heart couldn’t help but accelerate whenever he displayed a rare act of kindness towards you. One time in particular, he scolded you for overworking yourself while tending to your wounds, his words lacking the usual bite, none the wiser to the chest palpitations he was effortlessly causing. You couldn’t take it, you had to test your luck. You desired to be closer to him, for him to view as more than a nuisance, you wanted to be more than just acquaintances. With caution thrown to the wind, you embarked on a mission to befriend the Bakugo Katsuki.

That’s when the small ripples that would gingerly sway him turned more rigorous; they evolved into waves, ones he needed to smoothly ride if he didn’t want to fall victim to their ferocity.

He became much more aware of your stature in his lifestyle, how could he not? You’d made it a goal to sit with him during lunch, to share with him your bento box, to talk to him at any given moment. And it was then that he discovered a new part of you, one that was hidden behind your tactful persona. It became a common spectacle during lunch, you two hurling remarks at each other, yours more calculated and sarcastic while his were loud and fiery (in true Bakugo fashion), though the competitive grin stretching his lips, wrinkling the corners of his ruby hues gave away his enjoyment. Bakugo could never get over your quick wit, the speed at which you replied to him with your own quips almost gave him whiplash every time, if he didn’t know better he’d think you were regurgitating pre-written comebacks. It took a bit of coaxing at first, but eventually he gave into your petty bickering (all you had to do was mention Deku this and half-n-half bastard that), and then before he knew it, it was part of his routine, but can you blame him? He was presented with a challenge, of course he’d step up to the plate!

Your waves threatened his quaint, little sail, he had to learn to surf them if he didn’t want to topple over. And so, he did, after all, Bakugo Katsuki never backed down from a challenge.

Your comradery only strengthened from there. You trained together, him pushing your limits with his abysmal power and sheer instinct, you pushing his with precise movements and surprising agility. You strangely complemented each other, both in fighting styles and general attitude. He (aggressively) helped you with your academic shortcomings, and though his methods of teaching were very questionable, they proved to be fruitful as your grades had spiked significantly from his (torturous) aid. You’d grown impossibly closer, spending every waking moment together or thinking about each other. Katsuki didn’t know when it became a habit to anticipate your “goodnight” text, or when just the sight of your face made his anger practically dissipate into thin air.

“So, do you wanna come over to study, I’m kinda struggling with algebra,” You sighed sheepishly, scratching at the back of your head.

“No.” came the blunt response.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be such a meanie!” You jutted your bottom lip out much like how a kid throwing a tantrum would, his eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to the childish pout, when suddenly it turned into a poorly constrained grin. You had an idea. “Well, whatever, I was gonna order takeout from a new place down the road, I heard they have pretty spicy ramen there, but I guess I’ll order for one,”

You watched with mild amusement and well-concealed affection as his fiery eyes seemed to light up at the mention of spicy food. “Fine, dumbass, but I’m only doing this ‘cuz your sorry ass would fail without me,”

“Mhmm, sure thing, Bakugo,” You practically sang, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Bakugo.

That didn’t sound right at this point. Words left him before his brain could even process what he said, what he was insinuating.

“Katsuki.” He mumbled firmly. Your eyes widened a fraction, giving away your surprise.

“W-What?”

“Call me Katsuki,” It came out more assuredly this time, his glare directed forward as you both walked to your destination, missing the soft smile adorning your lips and the affection oozing out of your gaze.

“Sure thing, Katsuki.” His own lips curled into a faint smile, a tiny tug at the corners of his lips.

A push-and-pull rhythm was created between you; your waves pulling him in, only for his skillful hands and sails to conquer them. It was an endless tug of war, neither of you seemed to mind it, it blanketed you both in a sheen of serenity.

The calm before the storm.

It was merely an innocent question, a teasing inquiry at most, directed at him by his electric blonde friend. “So, man, when are you gonna ask (last name) out? Y’know if you don’t ask her soon, someone else will,”

Katsuki could have sworn he switched quirks with the dunce faced idiot, because at that moment his mind fully short-circuited. Him? And (name)? What would even give him that idea? Sure, she was cute and all -wait, cute?? What the actual fuck? His lack of response and the pinkish tint that spread from his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose seemed to get a rise out of Kaminari, because within seconds his head was thrown back, his laughter catching the attention of their red-haired friend. “Yo, man, what’re you laughing at?”

With that, Bakugo seemed to snap out of his trance, sharp eyes snapping between his self-proclaimed friends. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a curt response, something along the lines of “Fucking nothing!” or “Mind your own business, Shitty Hair!” but the other blonde beat him to the punch, loudly bellowing out,

“Bakugo has a crush on (last name)!”

Bakugo wasn’t pleased to say the least, his hand darting out, flexing a lethal explosion that Kaminari barely dodged. Bakugo’s eyes were wide with unadulterated rage, though he really couldn’t tell at who, nor did he care, he was seeing red at that moment and that’s all he could focus on. Before he can aim another strike towards his cowering friend, Kirishima looped his arms around Bakugo’s shoulders, activating his quirk to prepare for the barrage of oncoming explosions that were sure to come his way. “Dude, stop! You’re being super unmanly right now!”

Realizing there’s no point struggling against his friends hold, Bakugo’s figure suddenly slackened, Kirishima very cautiously relinquishing his grip on his friend. Burning rage, confusion, uncertainty and self-deprecation began to settle in Bakugo’s mind all at once, a million questions stampeding his thoughts. He didn’t like that, he hated not being in control, he hated not knowing what was wrong, especially with himself. With a furious shout of “FUCK OFF!” to dispel some of the anger bristling within him, the ash blonde stomped out of the nearly empty classroom, leaving his two friends to share looks of bewilderment.

And that’s when a tidal wave, a tsunami of emotions quaked his lonely ship, flipping it and hurling him off the deck into the freezing cold, wave riddled ocean, leaving him to sink deeper and flail around in a futile attempt at staying afloat.

The coming days, one thing haunted Katsuki like the plague, despite trying his hardest to avoid overthinking, you just seemed to carve your way into his subconscious. Everything reminded him of you, and he absolutely despised it. When had he gotten so distracted? When had his schedule morphed to make room for your presence in his life? When had he began to await seeing you, hearing your obnoxiously sweet voice? When had he gotten so weak? He didn’t need anyone, no one but himself, that’s all he needed to reach the top. If that was true, then why were his days getting more and more bleak as he actively shunned you out, avoided looking you in the eyes and subsequently being blissfully unaware of the look of hurt in your eyes. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you, but he couldn’t help it, he had to put some distance between you.

And so, he kept struggling against the currents, which only made him sink deeper, and deeper. Even so, he kept wrestling with the tides, hoping he’d make it out alive and free.

His absence in your life made you fidgety, but you brushed it off as him having a less than pleasant day, he’d surely go back to normal, right? Wrong. Things continued as they are, you wanted to give him space and all, but it didn’t help that it seemed he was only circumventing you. You wanted to be patient for him, and you were. But even the most patient of people, the most peaceful of saints, had their tipping points.

“I don’t understand you, Katsuki, we were good not even a week ago and now you’re completely avoiding me!”

“So what if I was, huh?! Are you saying that I need you or some shit?! Are you looking down on me, thinking you’re all high and mighty, that you could be the one to befriend the “pitiful lonely guy”?! Are you saying I’m weak, is that it, huh?! I’m not fucking weak, (name), I don’t need you or anyone for that matter, stop tryna coddle me, I don’t need your shitty friendship!”

Ouch, that hurt. He knew he was spouting so much bullshit straight through his teeth, it didn’t even make sense but that was how his self-defense mechanism works. When in doubt, push people you love away in fear of vulnerability. He knew he was being a major asshole, but nothing would’ve prepared him for the look of unbridled hurt and betrayal in your eyes, tears silently carving valleys on your flushed cheeks. Your quivering lip suppressed a wretched sob, before opening to utter a few heartbroken words.

“I see. Sorry I was such a nuisance for you, Bakugo,”

Bakugo, double ouch. That one stung. Hard. He’d never heard your voice so broken, so raw and meek. He walked home alone that day, already regretting everything he said, already missing your bubbly self.

A drift shook both of you away from each other. Your concerned classmates could only watch in silenced misery as you both hurdled yourselves into hero work and training, doing anything it takes to stay distracted. Bakugo thought that at least there would be one upside to arise from this situation, he could focus more on his dreams, he had more time than ever, he can totally utilize this to his advantage. Or so he thought. You infiltrated every crevice in his mind, all he could think about, day in and day out, was you. He’s always prided himself in being self-disciplined and focused, but right now he was anything but. You weren’t fairing any better. Your optimism was missed in the classroom, you forced a smile to reassure your friends, but that was about all you could muster. It seemed there was no end to the spiral the pair of you were sucked into until something happened. Something big happened.

He was kidnapped. Bakugo was kidnapped.

It seemed like a wake-up call to both of you. You could have lost him; he could have lost you. Bakugo realized, strapped to that chair, with the grey-haired, handy man holding a picture of you from the sports festival while babbling some vague threats, that he wanted to protect you, protect what he loved. He loved you. And he had to be better for you. He also realized that he wanted to go back to you. Dammit, he still didn’t apologize for what he said! He needed to return.

He no longer fought against the tide, he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t going to. And with his fruitless squirming against the current coming to an end, he began to rise to the surface, the gradually heating waters holding him afloat.

His return was a giant relief, you wanted to jump into his arms the moment he was saved, but you knew better. He needed time to think, to sort out his thoughts. Though you didn’t expect that he would sort out his thoughts with his fists. With Midoriya. Actually, scratch that, it was a very Bakugo thing to do.

That night you couldn’t sleep, sitting on the U.A. dorms Alliance stairs with a steaming mug of tea between your clutches. Your eyes, which had been transfixed on the constellations lining the night sky, blinked downward when you heard two pairs of footfalls approaching. You instantly recognized the two boys, beaten and battered.

“(name)...?”

His abnormally scratchy voice greeted you, you didn’t have to strain your ears to conclude that he’d been crying. Your stares were riddled with unspoken words, unvoiced feelings, leaving a pregnant tension in the air. A haggard throat-clearing cut through the quiet.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” And with that, the one-for-all user excused himself into the dormitory.

Katsuki shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. He knew what he needed to say he just couldn’t find the will to swallow the lump in his throat and say it.

“Hey, umm-”

Before he can get another syllable out, a force collided with him, shaky arms circling his broad shoulders, mindful of the bruises that littered his porcelain skin. Eyes blown wide; he couldn’t fathom the words that were uttered into his chest.

“I love you, Katsuki. I love you.” A sniff followed the heartfelt words, he felt some tears brimming his own lids.

Carefully bringing his arms around you, wrapping them securely around your waist. Katsuki drifted and swayed on your waves, surfing them skillfully, fully abandoning his past ways, no longer would he scuffle with the ebb and flow of the waters that only hoped of propelling him forward towards his goal. His red gems drifted to the sky, mapping out the stars much like a lost sailor would in search of guidance, though he was anything but lost in that very moment.

His lids dropped, thoroughly fatigued from the day’s events, before his head followed suit, descending and placing feather-like kiss on your head, his strong arms keeping you nestled as close as possible against his chest, a quiet murmur with powerful words left his lips,

“I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

[planetary-runaway]

Son

“W-will?” came a quiet, disbelieving voice, echoing from behind the newly revived ex-president, making him spin on his heel, already pasting a bright smile onto his face, as had become his custom interacting with anyone since he gained the white streak belying how truly old he was. “Oh! Fundy!” he positively beamed, though his eyes were too sharp, his teeth too white to have given anyone a sense of ease, especially as he held his arms out in front of him as if presenting the fox hybrid to his companion. “Look, Tommy! It’s Fundy.” He certainly wasn’t being genuine, all three of those present could hear the mocking remnants of a much friendlier ghost lingering in the higher pitches, and, judging by the snide curl of his lip as he continued, Will knew exactly what he was doing. “What can I do for you? Just a house call?”

Hackles raising as Wilbur stepped forward, Fundy stumbled back a little, and shoved a piece of paper into his pocket, eyeing Tommy warily, seeing as though he was hunched, staring at the grass of his lawn, with his hands in his pockets, just letting this happen. “N-No, it’s fine, I just... I was just going to ask Tommy something, but- but I'll come back later. Yeah, I'm sure it can wait.” he stammered out an excuse, trying to back off, back onto the prime path, where he could turn tail, but Wilbur merely waved it aside dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Toms would be happy to help.” he smiled, pinning the hybrid with a strangely, unfamiliar clear gaze, as he comfortably threw an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He didn’t seem to notice as the teen stumbled numbly, not once looking up from the small purple flower blooming from his lawn, letting Will move him about as if he was naught but a ragdoll, though Fundy bristled at the comfortable, familial gesture, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah... sure.” Tommy spoke hollowly, the movement having made a militarily cropped piece of his hair catch the light, white as bone, standing out starkly against the spun gold of the rest of his rumpled hair. Even from the other end of the lawn, Fundy could see how weary he was, how the dark circles had multiplied as if branding themselves onto his skin permanently, like they were weighing his shoulders down. He looked so small next to the still-beaming Wilbur, so different from the larger-than-life character Fundy had known from his childhood. It was disconcerting, but still, he forced his feet to move forward, toward the duo, feeling as his too-big boots slid on the cropped grass, and set his jaw. Completely blanking the taller, Fundy quickly addressed Tommy, not wanting to spend any longer in Will’s presence than he had to, let alone within arm’s reach. “I- Do you have any spare iron? Niki needs to rebuild her beacon.”

It wasn’t the politest or most successful of conversations, but, as Tommy raised a cracked, bruised hand, and pointed back into the house, Fundy could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise come over Wilbur’s face. A gentle head bow, and murmured thanks later, Fundy was passing through into the small dirt house- if it could even be called that- and rummaging through the assorted junk in Tommy’s chests, not organised in the slightest sense. They look like they had been ransacked recently, not a single piece of stone seeming to have lodged in a corner somewhere, forgotten. But, before he could think to question it, sure Tommy would have had at least some, Fundy’s hands brushed the smooth coolness of a few blocks of iron, sandwiched between two completely unrelated things, and his mind was sent on a completely different line of thought.

Yanking it out, he was surprised to see there was more than he thought, even if he did send a few dented buckets and an old, ragged leash flying in the movement. Still, he did have some level of decency, sure that if Tommy had this much iron, he must have had a need for it. So, as much as he wanted to take the whole stack, Fundy had some decency, slipping half into his pack for later, and carefully stowing the rest back into the chest in a much less dangerous pile, for... whatever the teen would need it for. It was a joke around the area that, often, very little in these chests was Tommy’s so, while he was sure somebody would currently be hunting, very confused, for their materials, there was also an unspoken knowledge between everyone that Tommy never took anything that would leave people really wanting, and, maybe...7 times out of 10, he would give it back after a while anyway.

Chuckling to himself as he latched the chest closed again, and prepared to stand back up from the cool, dirt floor, Fundy almost missed the tell-tale rumble of Wilbur starting to raise his voice from outside, where he had stayed with Tommy, basking in the sun as if it seemed to spotlight him alone. Gasping in a breath to hold, a faded memory coming back to him of long nights spent sleeplessly in the tall grass of a walled community, of hearing raised voices and incensed footsteps from inside his father’s office, Fundy forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his knees protested and wobbled, padding as silently as he was able over to the door to peek outside.

It wasn’t a fun sight to behold, either, Wilbur having taken Tommy by the shoulder as he spoke, a manic look in his eyes as he gestured wildly with his free arm, to the neighbourhood around them, to the sky, and the ground, and even to the house, though neither saw Fundy, him having ducked out of sight just in time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, both of them knowing he was there, but, in the split second he had to react, it had felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want to look back out there, so, instead, he leant his heaving back against the soft dirt wall, feeling the chill soak through his jacket and thin shirt, a small relief to his skin, and listened instead.

“Listen Tommy! This? This will be our legacy! If we can do this...” he broke off into laughter, so hauntingly familiar that it made Fundy’s heart ache to hear, almost being able to imagine a million different Wilburs, arms spread wide, face tilted to the sky. “When we do this, we’ll be saints! Nobody will be able to touch us again! We'll be gods, Tommy!” he spoke quickly, as if he was afraid that, if he didn’t get all his words out right that second, he would never get a chance to say them again, but like he didn’t care what it was that he said. “We will be... Tommy, we’ll be unstoppable!” It sounded more like a monologue to Fundy, who, straining his ears, only just heard Tommy’s mumbled reply, apathetic and weary as he sighed. “Yeah... gods.” He echoed, sounding decades older to the young fox, so used to the blonde spitfire throwing curses and rebuttals about like water, or at least swallowing back the more offensive things when warned. But right now, he just sounded defeated, like he had nothing left. And really, he didn’t, he didn’t even get to die in peace, so why should he be enthusiastic, knowing he would just be kept going indefinitely. It was a common source of outrage about the entire nation, that whatever had happened after Doomsday had broken their dear Tommy, though nobody knew much more than that he had lost a life, the news not having become popular, understandably.

“And you, Toms!” Will continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, followed by a loud rustling and stumbling steps. “You will be my right-hand man, all over again! This time we will win, my boy and I!” The iron suddenly felt ten times heavier, in Fundy’s pack, and in his stomach, a sick, sinking feeling washing over him. He couldn’t have just said that, right? He didn’t mean it, surely. But still, no amount of lying to himself could stop as he spun, flinging the door open angrily. “And what am I, Wilbur?” he snapped, teeth bared as he stood, haloed with darkness from the dim house, in the doorway, regarding the pair with poorly veiled disdain. “What role do I play? Gunna leave me alone again? Leave me behind?” Jealousy was rising, hot and thick, in his throat as he spoke, raging like a monster and driving him to step forward, stalking toward Will, who had the audacity to still hold an arrogant smirk on his face. “Ah, Fundy. So nice to see you’re still here.” he spoke smoothly, clasping his hands before himself like a housewife as he saw the sharp claws starting to peek out from around the fingerless gloves the hybrid always wore.

“Answer the question. What am I to you, Wilbur.” he spoke lowly, almost a growl, slowly shifting into a fighting stance at the infuriatingly serene position Will held, faintly noticing he had shed his heavy coat at some point in his ravings, leaving him in just his achingly familiar linen shirt and pants. “Well... you’re Fundy.” One hand went out in a mockery of a placating gesture, nestling in Fundy’s hair and ruffling it up, before being quickly snatched back as Fundy snapped angrily at it, missing by less than a centimetre. “Well done, you know my name.” he snarled back, eyes lightening, blink by blink, from their usual dormant brown to a much angrier, more feral gold as he hunched fully into a fighting stance, the rage reaching a peak. “How about family? I’m your son.” the words lashed out like a whip, ripping his throat up as they spilled out, and stupidly making his voice crack. “I’m your son” he repeated, quieter this time, slashing out blindly as Wilbur’s hand came close again. “Don’t you dare touch me. You haven’t earnt the right.”

This time, he broke skin, he felt as the minor resistance buckled, and blood tickled the tips of his fingers, looking up to see a clear slash mark on the sleeve of the shirt, now being quickly dyed with the type of morbid crimson that only blood could be. Wilbur looked surprised, quickly pulling the entire sleeve off to bandage it, before holding his arm to himself, an action performed in entire, three-way silence. Fundy had watched, tight lipped, at the familiar sight of blood, not able to find it in himself to feel any kind of remorse for his actions, simply waiting for it to be over with.

“I see you found your spine. Your mother was always feisty too.” Wilbur commented slyly, seeing as Fundy’s heaving breath caught in his chest for a moment, not even flinching as a loud growl reverberated about the street afterward. “You have no right to talk about her like that. You made us soldiers, you made us fight your bloody wars in your name, and where were you when we needed you by our sides?” Fundy snarled, gesturing to the hunched figure of Tommy, right where he had been left when Will had stepped away, staring unseeingly at the floor, arms wrapped tight about his midsection. “You were off on your chaise longue, eating grapes and seducing Dream so you could blow us all up again, conveniently looking the other way when we called for you to be there.” he spat the words like they were acid, trying desperately to find at least one thing that scratched the perfect veneer Wilbur was putting up, even with his arm clamped to his chest like it was shattered. “But we were children. Will, I was a child.”

He couldn’t help the memories coming back, of chainmail that dragged on the floor when he walked, of the elusive smells of pastries being eclipsed by gunpowder, of babbling brooks turned into deathly still lakes by the craters left over, of playful laughter echoing through the air from around the foreboding office Fundy had barely seen the inside of, before they were all shushed and sheparded off to train for a war they shouldn’t have had to fight. “I was a kid that just wanted a dad. You were supposed to be there for me.” Tears started pricking at his eyes at this, and, determined not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of seeing it, he roughly shouldered past, clutching his pack and his jacket close. “You were supposed to be a father.” he couldn’t help but mumble as they diverged, Wilbur not bothering to put out an arm to stop him as he stepped from the cropped lawn back onto the smooth, familiar wood of the path.

“And you know what?” Fundy barked, turning back one last time, hating how the sun made a halo about Wilbur’s form, painting him as an angelic being, especially how it dappled through the folded wings just poking out from over his shoulders now he wasn’t wearing his heavy coat anymore. “I wish you stayed dead.” It didn’t even cause a quirked brow, Wilbur watching with some detached sort of amusement, as if it was naught but a show he was the sole audience for. Upending his pack, Fundy turned to Tommy, unsure if he was even able to hear him, but spoke again, quieter, softer. “Keep the iron, I'll find it somewhere else.” and, in time with the heavy clang of iron upon the path, a door, left open for far too long, finally locked in Fundy’s mind.

[pillowfluffs]

A Bit of Jealousy | Im Changkyun

Pairing: Changkyun X Reader (female)

Genre: fluff, angst

Request: “hi! I saw that your requests are open, may I request an angsty yet fluffy thing with changkyun? like... you both are engaged but you wanted to make an special surprise for their anniversary, but he thinks she's cheating? 👀👀👀 if it's a little complicated, you don't have to do it. thanks in advance!” -anon

Author’s Note: dw anonnie, I didn’t ignore your request 😤I got into writing it so it took be a bit, and it took be even longer since dialogue messes with me a bit, but hopefully this wasn’t too long of a wait for you 🥺 Thank you for requesting!! I hope you all enjoy! 

He surrounded himself with the low basses of the new song he was stuck on, immersing himself with the music he had made so far yet there were no lyrics to go with it. He leaned back in his chair for the nth time with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. How did this happen? The world around him, the world he knew, thought he knew, felt who distorted. He felt empty and he could tell it was already getting to him. Within his own creating process, he usually did these two parts hand in hand: playing with synthesizers, producing various beats, different rhythms and the lyrics would flood his mind like a plague. It felt like the gears in his mind would turn faster and faster, soaring higher into the sky on his little cloud Lyrics would flow through his head like a river after a storm. But nothing came. The world felt like it was crumbling beneath his feet as he sat in his chair, the lights in his studio dimmed down with only his monitors and equipment being his only source of distraction.

He felt drained when he did only a small fraction of what he usually did and he knew why. You. He rubbed the shiny ring around his ring finger out of habit whenever he was deep in thought or just missing you. He loved you, yes. You were his bride to be, yes. Though, the thought of you after what he saw today made a fire burn inside of him. He hated how deep the pit inside of him was. No matter how many times he thought it over, the pit grew a little bit deeper with no resolution. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, resting his forehead in his folded hands as he went through the day in his mind, once again.

The bedroom was filled with a haze that felt like pure home. The aura in the room would make the two of you feel truly at home and nothing could replace it. The room was still with slumber, the bed sheets wrinkled from how much the two of you turned in bed. It was a bit messy but it was cozy and it was home. The room was spacious for the two of you with simple white walls, gray curtains, and a fuzzy carpet.

Feeling your mind come alive, one thought appeared after the other like flowers blooming after seeing the sun after a spell of time, you woke to the soft touch of Changkyun’s arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his low breaths tickling your ear. His body was warm feeling his chest pressed against your back. Your lips naturally curled upward as you turned in his arms, resting half of your body on his, your chin meeting his arm with your leg rubbed against his. He looked so comfortable whenever he slept which made you want to go back to sleep most of the time. You cupped his face in your hand, your eyes unable to leave his features- the face, the person, the soul you fell in love with a few years ago. Your ring glistened in the faint sunlight that shone through the curtains, the precious gem sparkling into your eyes, the thing you that told you you were really his and a similar thing on his finger, signifying he was really yours. His skin was smooth under your thumb as you lightly grazed his cheek, making a curve line by rubbing your thumb side to side. Your brought your face closer to his, taking his face with your other hand, unable to get enough of the love of your life.

He suddenly brought your hands up, bringing them around yours. He caught your hands in his, the one he grew to love the more he held them, the longer he held them. They fit so well in his hands like puzzle pieces.

“Good morning, to you too,” his voice was deep and rich, making your heart flutter in his chest as he brought your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to them. “You’re up early,” he spoke, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear. He wrapped his leg around yours beneath the cover. The two of you were tangled with each other on the bed, almost always, taking in the feeling of having you in his arms and his skin on yours. It was a feeling he basked in, never getting tired of being around you or your touch on his skin, in his body.

“I did go to sleep earlier than you,” you said, which was true. By the time Changkyun returned from the studio, you were fast asleep. It wasn’t his fault he had to stay so late, though. A comeback for the group was approaching, a couple weeks away and as they gained popularity, they had to top the last comeback. They had their own flavor when it came to their music, the sound of their songs, the way they moved to the music, how they looked, everything- they had their own flavor when it came to what they did and they made sure everyone never forgot the taste they created. But making this taste took time, sacrifice, things like experiences that you sometimes may never get back, but meeting you, Changkyun didn’t care about how many experiences he missed out on if it meant a different one with you by his side for the rest of his life.  

“How about you, then? You were at the studio all day. I didn’t even get to see you,” you pouted just a little, teasing him. After being together for awhile now, you adapted to his lifestyle since it was distinctly different. He called and texted whenever he could but he buried himself away in his cave of a studio with Jooheon and other producers when it was time to create.

“Well, I felt my beautiful fiancé awake so I just had to wake up to see her beautiful face,” his voice quiet as he leaned his head your closer, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “But I’m all yours today. We can do whatever you want.”

The two of you eventually slid out of bed, stepping into the bathroom. The two of you were best friends, lovers, and now each other’s fiancé. You two were glued hip and hip in the bathroom as the two of you brushed your teeth, jamming to the music that played on his phone. He occasionally leaned over and bumped his hip to yours to the beat of the music, his eyes unable to leave your reflection in the mirror. He’d already seen all of you that he could but the feelings, the butterflies that fluttered in his chest always felt new.

Throughout the house, the walls were decorated with pictures of you and him, some taken with friends and the walls always having enough space for future memories to be made and experienced. It wasn’t the biggest house, wasn’t the smallest either, but it was home where he could be who he was with you beside him. He prepared breakfast downstairs as you got dressed and he stayed in his pajamas, which was really just his bare upper body while he wore sweats but you didn’t mind at all- it just meant you had two meals to savor. The kitchen was filled with a sweet aroma as he made waffle after waffle, pouring syrup over his own stack and added the toppings you liked for your own stack. His raspy voice sang along to the songs that played on his phone, in his own little world. He didn’t even hear your steps over the cool tiled floor, only noticing you when you snaked your hands around him from behind, resting your head on his back between his shoulder blades.

You sung along to the other part of the song that happened to be playing, this time it was your turn to rock side by side with him. He smiled widely, feeling himself melt when your voice matched so well with the music. He could listen to you sing endlessly but whenever he tried to get you to sing with him, you shied away. It was such a prize for him whenever you sang. He soaked up the way your voice reverberated off the walls, your voice matching the original singer’s voice with little effort. He couldn’t contain the smile that spread on his face, his dimples caved in on his cheeks, the way you peppered kisses on his shoulder blade, the way your featherlike touch tickled his shoulder as you traced over his tattoos. God he was so sexy in your eyes and for him, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He took your hands in his once again and turned in your grasp, meeting your face. You wore a simple, casual shirt with sweatpants, your hair messily tied up but he never cared. What you wore or how you looked never hindered his feelings for you. You didn’t have to doll up your face, caking makeup over it to hide your natural skin tone, “blemishes” according to society which were deemed to be imperfect but you looked so human to him. You looked so natural and raw compared to others today. You were you. Your voices filled the kitchen as he began to sing with you, singing horribly off key to make you laugh, which worked. As the waffle cooked, he twirled you around, spinning you around all over the kitchen but also kept a close eye on it so it wouldn’t burn. The only lights in the kitchen was a single ray of sunshine that peeked in, shining onto the ground and the light over stove but it was enough. He could adore you in any lighting and never get bored as you felt the same for him. It felt like it was humanly impossible to love someone this much but here he was loving you. You made him feel vulnerable but he could feel so vividly how you felt about him, it drove him a bit crazy for him to think how infatuated he was with you.

He pulled out the chair for you, pushing it in as you sat down. With the stove fan off, the house was suddenly still and peaceful, occasionally hearing birds singing outside. It was such a perfect day for the two of you and he wanted time to slow down already before it even began. He brought over the stacks of waffles and a plate of extras he had prepared along with a tray of toppings to the side of the neatly yet also aesthetically pleasing table he had organized for the two of you to share breakfast. To be extra fancy for the hell of it, Changkyun poured two glasses of orange juice in tall wine glasses.

“Happy anniversary.” He raised his glass before the two of you could begin eating.

“Happy anniversary, Kyunnie.” You brought your glass to his with a clink. You stood up and brought your lips to his for a sweet kiss before he could take a sip, feeling the smile spread on his lips as he thought about what he must’ve done in his past life to have you in his life. Today marked the day the two of you got together as a couple four years ago.

Pacing around his studio, Changkyun was restless. He couldn’t keep himself still when his mind accelerated. The place he felt like he could escape to only comforted him a little. How did the day that was meant to be spent celebrating the day the two of you got together end up like this? He could only imagine what his phone must’ve been going through but he tossed that thought to the side, the urge to check his phone away. He discarded the device to his couch when he came to the studio, locking himself in. Did he really mean anything to you? He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe what you did today, what he saw today. He tried to drown himself in the music, failing to do so as he resurfaced again and again, his mind resurfacing to you.

“I can go with you,” he said, standing from his spot at his desk, his personal little studio at home and leaned in the doorway to his little office.  

“No, really Kyun. I think it’ll be faster if I just go alone,” you insisted, a bit rushed as you slipped into your shoes. “Ah, I really have to go. I’ll see you later today,” you said as you checked your phone, barely sparing him a glance as you spoke. You rushed the kiss you left on his cheek, your eyes still glued to your phone. He could see how your lips twitched as you tried to hide a smile, only letting it show when you were halfway out the door, rushing away. What was going on?

Changkyun usually went with the flow of things but with you, with the way you were acting just now, he couldn’t help but let suspicion percolate in his body. It was unnatural of you. And it really said something since he trusted you with his life. He anticipated today to spend time together, enjoying each other on your guys’ special day. No big gifts or surprises or anything but you left him alone without telling him anything, leaving him in the dark.

Out of instinct and curiosity spiked with suspicion, he quickly got dressed into something casual, jeans, a t-shirt, and a hooded jacket, and headed out. He made his way toward the street shopping center that was only a couple blocks away from your house. The roads were purposefully closed for only pedestrians and shoppers and on the long street, there were multiple shopping stores and people packed this area at night, especially during summer when multitudes of vendors opened, selling delicious foods and offered many games, bargaining with tourists and locals. With a quick jog, he realized two things: first, you weren’t a fast walker since he was able to see you walk into a cafe after successfully catching up, spotting you out of pure luck and second, he really needed to hit the gym again. The way he was struggling to catch his breath after a five minute jog from the house blew his mind as he panted clutching his chest in exaggeration. He panted and stepped into the store across the street of the cafe. It was a little store but filled with stationery. Many young adults filled the shop as they did their own things, making the perfect curtain for Changkyun to see you. From here, he pretended to shop while having a clear way to see you in the cafe. The area was somewhat busy since it was still early but it surprised him how many places were open already and people were already shopping. However, he used this to his advantage so he could easily hide and blend in if you were to ever see him.

When he saw you sit by yourself at the cafe, eyes again glued to your phone, he suddenly felt a wave of reality wash over him. He began to smile, laughing at himself for coming all the way here, mentally slapping himself for even letting his mind stray to doubting you as the first thing when you acted strange. You sat with your own drink but he still wondered why you didn’t just tell him- he would’ve been fine bringing you here himself or even getting some to bring back. But before he left, he stood still when he saw you suddenly look at someone, standing from your seat to give them a hug. Suddenly, everyone around him went silent, the store he stood in went quiet but in reality, it was just his world that went mute. He felt himself freeze in place as he looked across the empty street to the cafe, seeing you smile fondly with Hyungwon, leaving with him. Why were you with Hyungwon of all people? Why didn’t you tell him you were with a member of his group? Why were you with Hyungwon? On your anniversary of all days as well.

In search of a clear answer, he continued to follow the two of you from a safe distance, always going into the store across the street or wherever he could across the street, keeping a close eye on the two of you. Questions kept appearing in his mind the longer he followed the two you going deeper into the street, shopping for a longer time in multiple stores together, very close side by side. You led him from store to store, the conversation never seeming to end between the two of you. The clothes store, jewelry store, grocery store, etc. Why were you with Hyungwon? It was this question he kept asking himself but couldn’t think of a reason as to why. You held up shirts and sweaters, smiling, only to put it back after you shook your head and had a brief discussion and Hyungwon looked at it, holding it up to his own body.

It felt like his spirit was being crushed to dust the longer he had to watch you smile at another man, a taller, skinnier, more handsome man that he envied knowing how many people adored him.

But he slapped himself mentally once again, harder this time. There must’ve been a clear answer and you would tell him right? You two were going to be married after all. Reaching into his pocket, he dialed your phone number, the number he called the most out of all his contacts. He watched carefully, hearing the device call yours in his ear.

You paused the conversation hearing your phone ring in your pocket. You suddenly froze a bit when you saw it was Changkyun.

“Hello?” You spoke calmly on the phone but he didn’t miss the gesture you made to pause Hyungwon’s words, the way the light around your persona dimmed just the slightest when you saw his name on your phone.

“Hey, where are you?” He asked, pretending he wasn’t hurt. Putting on the facade he was clueless, the facade that everything was okay and he didn’t feel a wound being slowly pierced into his chest.

“Kyun, I can’t talk. I’ll be home later, okay?” You evaded, giving a glance to Hyungwon as he watched you speak.

“Yeah, I know. We just planned to watch a movie… So where are you?” He could feel his facade slipping like a mask coming loose around his head.

“Where I am, right….” You repeated, sending a worried look to the tall one. He watched it all like a sick movie, ignoring the searing burn in his throat as he swallowed. “I’m helping my mom with something, sorry I have to go,” you spoke after Hyungwon mouthed something to you but the phone didn’t pick up his words.

“Oh, okay then,” he said nonchalantly. It felt like he was putting the facade on for himself than you as he said these last words. “I love you.”

“Love you too, bye,” you said, hanging up. He missed the relieved look on your faces as the two of you continued shopping. He began to walk toward the end of the block, walking around a couple more before he was at the company building where the streets were busier with traffic. This had done it. He let the facade, the mask he had on fall onto the road, crushing it to nothing as he stepped over it. The piercing wound became a tear, a tear that repeated until there was nothing but little pieces that looked like an impossible puzzle. He felt cold as the sun hid behind the clouds, the day turning gloomy, matching the way he felt. With a fast pace, he kept his hood up, fists buried in his pockets. Stepping into the cool air of the lobby, he nodded at the receptionist who politely bowed, letting him through into the building. After waiting a brief moment, he steed into the empty elevator that played variety of the songs of the various groups under the company. The ride was short but slow. He focused on the song playing, only to realize it was his group’s song, the sound of Hyungwon’s voice making him feel bitter. With a couple strides down the brightly lit hall filled with framed posters of all the groups under the company and a swift finger scan, he stepped into the one place he felt like he could let the ropes he was holding, go. Hearing the door lock behind him with a satisfying click acted like a switch for him, like a signal telling him he was concealed. He let the silence in the room consume him.

The various emotions he felt coalesced into one big mess, bundling, compressing together into a storm inside of him. With a burst of strength, he threw his phone into the cushions of the couch. The device’s flat side slapped against the firm leather cushions of the couch. He dejectedly flung himself into his chair, leaning back, letting out a heavy sigh, looking across the studio. He remembered the day you stayed up late and with him to decorate it. You helped him frame the posters from his favorite movies, help assemble his chair and push the couches and table around as he followed the wordy instructions to build his desk. Although there was only a single framed picture of the two of you on his desk, there were still parts and prints and memories of you all over his studio and he couldn’t for get it. Jealously made him sour and he hated it. He took in everything he could, every sound in an attempt to distract, pull his mind away from the jealous thoughts he had in his mind, but there was nothing. The room was sound proofed. How useful for any other time except now. He was left alone to his thoughts.

“I’m home,” you called excitedly, unknowing the house was completely empty. You hid the bag containing your anniversary gift to Changkyun behind your body in case he was in the living room, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Kyun?” You called out. “Are you here?” You asked as you laid on the first section of the steps, calling upstairs. You heard nothing but the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Sitting on the steps, the later afternoon sun shined through the skylight on the roof of the house. Pulling out your phone, you checked your messages and calls, seeing none from Changkyun. Where was he? Clicking on his contact, you called his number, pressing the cold screen of your device against your ears. Your fingers twisted around the handles of the bag containing his gift sat beside you on the stairs, hearing the call go to voicemail. You checked your messages and voicemails one more time just to be sure, but alas, you saw nothing from him.

“Hey where are you?” You texted him but the message didn’t have the usual delivered message after. Was his phone off? You didn’t know what to think since he hadn’t told you anything. You stood from the stairs and began your surprise, taking the opportunity to get ready while Changkyun was out.

Looking at the time, you were taken a bit back, not realizing you spent so long with Hyungwon today to find a gift for Changkyun. You washed your hands and tied your hair back, preparing the dishes you wanted to make for dinner which consisted of some of your favorites and his favorites. As you washed the vegetables, you couldn’t help but think about Changkyun’s whereabouts, however. You mentally slapped yourself on the wrist for not looking for his gift earlier. The two of you had known each other for four years now and to be engaged in a a couple months but you wanted to make sure it was perfect with the help of Hyungwon.

You stood home alone in the kitchen as time passed, hours rolling by one after the other. Changkyun was still not home. You even made sure to take your time with things but even when all that time passed, he still hadn’t come home. Setting the final dish down, you felt accomplished seeing the dishes you were able to make but as you sat down at the table, the silence settled down around you, the notion that you were alone and have been alone for the last couple hours unsettled you. Grabbing your phone, to your dismay, there were no messages or anything from Changkyun. Opening your messages, the message was finally delivered but unread. Where could he be?

You pressed his contact, holding the cold device on your ear only to hear it repeatedly lead you to the beep to leave a message at the end. You repeatedly sent texts to him only for none of them to be heard. Where was he? You sat alone in the kitchen, as worry slowly began to percolate inside.

“Hyungwon, do you know where Changkyun is?” You sent the message to Hyungwon, going back to trying to call him only for the cal to be disrupted by Hyungwon’s own call to you.

“He’s not home?”

“When I came home, he wasn’t here and he still hasn’t returned any of my calls or messages,” you looked to his bagged gift in the seat beside you. “He didn’t tell me anything while we were out.. did he tell you anything?” You asked, fiddling with the corner of the bag in your hand. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of the dishes you made, making your stomach growl a bit after having really eaten anything since breakfast. 

“No, nothing. I’ll ask the others and let you know.”

You sat still in your seat, repeatedly trying to call him and message him, scraping your mind for even the smallest things he possible could’ve said that you missed earlier today, but alas, there was none.

Changkyun sat back, reclined in his seat, his voice low as he mindlessly hummed to the rhythm of the synthesizers and bass mixed for a sample of a song on repeat. At this point, he could recite note for note, beat for beat because of how many times it played, doing its best to drone out thoughts in his mind. But it wasn’t mainly the thoughts that made him feel this burn inside him, no, it was his emotions, the notion that you could’ve been with anyone else in the world and today was proof enough- it was jealousy.

The lights in the room were off, leaving the ones behind his monitors on his desk that changed colors, from one gradient to another. His eyes felt tired after staring at the colors as they glistened on the wall and glass displays beside his desk but it was only his eyes. Then, the office phone the company used on his desk rang, the red light flashing. For the first time in hours, Changkyun paused the music, hearing the sudden silence crash into his ears like when someone jumps into water and then the water suddenly surrounds you.

“Hello?” He asked monotonously.

“Changkyun? You’ve been at the studio this entire time? Have you seen your phone?” The familiar voice of one of his members sounded in his ears. He subconsciously clenched his jaw but felt immediately inferior to the older member. Of course you chose Hyungwon. A lot of people did, and it cracked his heart.

“Shouldn’t you be comforting Y/N?” He spit back, a subtle kick in his words.

“Why would I be with Y/N? It’s your guys’ anniversary.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause by the looks of today, it seemed more like your guys’” he practically scoffed at his words, the feeling of betrayal flooding in as he now spoke with Hyungwon. Still sitting in the dark, the colors changed over his face, the lights still following their pattern.

“You saw us- Go home, Changkyun. Answer your cellphone.” Hyungwon demanded, the pieces for him coming together.

“Why should I listen to you?” Changkyun gripped he phone, contemplating on hanging up, leaving him cut off.

“Just go home. It’s all a misunderstanding but you need to hear it from Y/N,” his voice desperate.

He held the phone, hesitant to say or do anything, but alas, he did as Hyungwon told and hung up. He grabbed his phone off the couch, seeing the tens of messages and calls you left him, though only a few voicemails he listened to. They were all filled with your frantic voice that you just wanted him to come home and to call you back. He could feel a ripple of guilt that began to grow as he walked faster to the point he was jogging home. The fastest way would be through the mall he found you and Hyungwon walking through, but like almost always, it was filled with people as they filled the streets, buying foods and shopping from the numerous vendors. Bodies were pressed through the brightly lit street as people waddled their way through the crowd, trying to buy or see or eat more, making it difficult for Changkyun to get home to you.

You sniffled to yourself, now seated in the living room of your home where he sat earlier today, holding one of his pillows in your arms in the quiet living room with a single lamp on for light. You admired how your ring sparkled in the low light, wishing he would come back soon. Your fingers circled around the wrinkly, worn soft fabric of the case, leaning into the warmth you emitted into the fabric.

He moved as fast as he could through the crowd, maneuvering over the masses of bodies around. He squeezed around, going around others as fast as he could through the mall. The entire area’s atmosphere was filled with a foggy smoke from all the hot foods being sold by the vendors. The smells wafted into his nose as he passed, his stomach grumbling with hunger. He didn’t even realize he had spent the bulk of the day at the studio today without eating anything since breakfast. He finally broke free from the crowd and toward the clear sidewalks of the neighborhoods. The night sky was clear and there were just barely traces of light pink and dark purples far off in the distant horizon, the breeze blowing through his clothes and hair as it bounced with every step as he jogged.

By the time he got to the end of your block, he panted once again as he did earlier, the thought of hitting the gym resurfacing. Standing in front of the house beneath the starry night sky, he was surrounded by the chirps of crickets and the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Catching his final breaths, he approached the front door. With a cool breeze blowing by and he sound of his keys jingling in his hand on the knob, the door opened to the dimly lit house, the first thing he saw was the lamp in the corner. But then he saw you. You jolted up in your seat as he stepped in, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in as he pushed off his shoes to the side but stopped when he was out, not even realizing what to do with himself now that he was here. He was speechless.

“Kyun,” your voice wavered slightly as you stood, the blanket that was draped over your legs slid off to the ground, pooling at your ankles. “What you saw today, there’s nothing between Hyungwon and I.” You were suddenly before him in a couple of strides. He could see your worn eyes despite having not shed a single tear- not yet at least.

“Then what was it?” He asked, a part of him wanting to infuse venom into his words but another part silencing himself from doing so. The word “misunderstanding” in Hyungwon’s voice sounded in his head.

“It was this,” you said as you stepped into the kitchen, the cold tiles at the bottom of your feet as you snatched his gift in the bag, bringing it back to him. “I know we promised to not do any gifts, I couldn’t help myself but by the time I finally decided to get something, I realized I couldn’t think of anything to get you that would feel perfect enough for you,” you stammered over your words as they came out, feeling like the foundation you built yourself emotionally was crumbling around the edges. “I asked Hyungwon to help me and I hate that I couldn’t make a decision earlier so I could’ve spent all day with you.” You could feel a single tear cascade down your cheek leaving a wet trail over your dry skin. You swallowed over a lump that formed as you spoke, your eyes fell to his hands holding the bag, unable to bring yourself up to see his. You felt ashamed and embarrassed at the same time- ashamed you couldn’t be decisive sooner and embarrassed you couldn’t even look in your own fiancé’s eyes.

Changkyun stood speechless, not able to move his body a single inch. It felt like a cool sensation dropped down his stomach, raising goosebumps all over his body. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not knowing what he could possibly say, no- he didn’t know where to start.

“I’m so dumb, I should’ve just got-“

“The only dumb person in this house is me,” he cut you off quietly as he embraced you into his arms with the rustling sound of the bag swinging in his hand, catching you off guard. “I let my emotions get the best of me and I should’ve just trusted you. I- I-“ he sighed, not knowing how to continue. “My mind assumed the worst when I saw the two of you two in the mall today. I should’ve just stayed home, answered my phone at least,” he spoke, his arms not letting up. “I’m sorry,” he brought his hand to hold the back of your head, fingers combing through your hair when you accepted his embrace, taking him into your own. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Could you forgive me?” He held your shoulders, breaking away from the hug.

“Of course, Kyun. You’re my fiancé after all.” You took his face in your hands, bringing your lips to his as his hands rested on your hips. “I love you,” you mumbled against his plump lips, his touch never leaving you.

“I love you too, and happy anniversary.” He dipped you backwards a bit, holding your back firmly before he brought his lips back to yours.

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more!

[obxfics]

Drowning in Your Love

summary: you realize your favorite time of day, and your favorite person soon comes to realize just why you love him so much.

pairing: jj x reader

word count: 826

@internet-infuencer brilliantly suggested to listen to Golden by Harry Styles while you read

a/n: so this is my first reader insert in a while and also my first outer banks fic. hope y’all enjoy!

You think sunset might just be your favorite time of day. It’s when you and the Pogues are usually either drinking on the boat or laughing in the hammock at John B’s place. It was the time when everything was calm and you could just bask in the familiarity of your friends’ presence. But really, if you were being completely honest with yourself, sunset was your favorite time of day because of the boy you love.

You were laying in the hammock, swinging lazily as Kie wiggled around in your arms to get comfortable, when your eyes fell on JJ. You always thought he was pretty--of course you did--but like this, with his golden hair awash with orange light from the setting sun, and a content smile on his face as he talked with Pop and John B, he looked absolutely stunning. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, and so you reached out to gently trace the bridge of his nose with your finger. A lazy smile grew on your face when he turned to wrinkle his nose at you. His breath then caught in his through at the look he saw in your eyes. It never ceased to amaze him the way you would look at him.

Later on when Pope and Kie had headed home and John B had disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower, you sat on the sofa bed with JJ’s head in your lap. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just taking the time to look at each other, when he broke it.

“How do you do that?” he asked as his eyes left yours and settle on the ceiling.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that. Like... look at me with those eyes so full of, like, I don’t know, love.”

You let out a quiet laugh and slid your fingers into his golden tresses. His eyes narrowed and a quiet moan escaped him when you began scratching the back of his head.

“I look at you like that because I am in love with you, stupid.”

“Why?”

There it was. The JJ that had been hurt and abandoned by his parents. Made to believe no one could really love him.

“You know that stupid saying ‘I was already in the middle before I’d even realized I’d started’? For me it was like that. By the time I realized I had a crush on your dumb ass, I was already halfway in love with you.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek before continuing, “But if I had to say what it was that really did it... I think it’s just... how much love you hold, JJ. Like you’ve been through so much shit, but when it comes to the Pogues, you’ll do anything to protect us. And it made me realize I want to protect you too.”

He was silent for a few minutes, and you just let him process your words as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. Finally he looked back up at you and flashed one of his crazy grins.

“I knew you were special the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“JJ, be serious!” you laughed, letting out a quiet yelp when he sat up and wrapped his arms around you.

“I am being serious.” He nuzzled his nose along your jawline and let out a sigh. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes and told him to fuck off. He just smiled and kissed the top of your head. He wasn’t exactly lying. He did think you were hot when Kie had first brought you around, but that wasn’t what made him fall for you. It was the fact that you never cared about how he had no money, and that you never cared about how he was broken, and that you never cared about how he spent most his nights on John B’s couch. You just cared about him. And you laughed at his stupid jokes, and were always there on the bad nights with his dad, and you only yelled at him when you were worried and he tried to brush you off.

“You wanna know a secret?” he whispered in your ear once John B had said goodnight and the two of you were curled up on the couch together.

“Hm,” you hummed back, already half asleep all wrapped up in his warmth.

“I was already drowning in your love by the time I realized I needed you to keep me afloat.”

A small smile crept onto your face, and you nuzzled even closer to him, resting your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat under your ear. He readjusted himself so your head was tucked under his chin and he could hold your hand with one of his while the other was wrapped around your back.

“It’s a good thing you know how to swim, love.”

[lamiasluck]

Eye for an Eye

Finally something for my siren au! A lil something for my friend @shy-marker-pliers since they love the good fish lads

Also thanks as always to my friend @emptynarration for letting me use his siren Host and also for editing this for me!

Eric had been wanting to find the siren that saved him in the past. However, it’s a big hard when he may have to look through the entire ocean.

 @alvie-ashgrove​ @verse2wo @juju-on-that-yeet @m4delin @ferociousfangirlofmanyfandoms @rmdreams @lildevyl

-

The waves were calm and quiet. They brushed against the smooth rocks and helped dampen Eric’s fins as he rested. Yet, what usually was a serene scene was drowned out by the siren’s busy mind. He looked out into the vast sea and searched for something. Someone. It would be nearly impossible to find this someone. How odd that he wanted not to be in his usual isolation. Being in one’s company was as chilling as the icy arctic waters, but this was a debt he needed to repay to another of his kind.

That monster of a siren that saved him not too long ago.

To think, such a beast was the reason why Eric could feel the waves brushing against his fins. He’s the reason why he could bask in the warm sun. Also the reason why he could feel panicked about whether or not he needed to apologize. Of course a siren like that would only cause conflict in Eric’s mind. 

He didn’t even know if this siren would still be nice to him. For all he knew, he might visit him while the monster had an empty stomach. Knowing his luck, that wasn’t an outlandish thought. 

Though, even if he wanted to make his amends; where would he go? He had seen that siren on a whim, and he had been in a dazed state when he saw him. Sirens as huge that one usually lived in the deep sea. They don’t come out from the depths, unless they’re hunting. A shiver ran down his spine as he hugged his tail to his chest; a quiet whimper falling from his lips. He really did meet that siren while he had been hungry. However, he was perfectly fine. He remembered something:

Hadn’t there humans on that boat?

He had seen the scraps of metal, and usually those weird nets were used by the humans, but there were none in sight when he explored around afterwards. It wasn’t bad to assume that that siren had made quick work of those people. So why spare him? Maybe this monster siren didn’t like eating other sirens. That reasoning could be enough to quiet down his worries. Anything that gets him off this lonely rock.

The first course of action would be to get a gift as an apology. He splashed into the water and explored around for something pretty. He couldn’t rely on just talking if he met the other again. He talked more to the ocean than he did with other living beings. So, a gift would do him well. Hopefully he could find a gift nice enough, that it wouldn’t seem like a piece of dirt to the other.

After scanning along the seafloor, and even going near the coastline once he saw there weren’t any humans- Eric found the perfect gift. It was the biggest, shiniest seashell he had ever seen- one of those that he had seen humans put against their ears to hear the ocean. That never made much sense to him; putting it against his ears only made him hear the underwater currents he always heard. Humans were always so strange with their rituals. If someone wanted to hear the ocean, they should just go to one. It was that easy for everyone, right? Right. However, the shell was quite pretty, as well as decently large, so it’d be perfect for a monster like his saviour.

He took the shell and clutched it close to his chest. A soft chirp came from him as he revelled in this small victory. Now onto the most important step: finding that monster siren. It sounded easy on the surface. Surely, someone like that would be spotted soon enough. However, Eric doesn’t recall ever seeing him before. Would he need to go to the deep sea? He wouldn’t be able to survive there for even a short while, but how else was he going to find him?

Well, that other siren was swimming around the surface when he saved him. So, if Eric just played the waiting game, then everything should be fine. He needed to keep his gift safe and keep an eye out for his saviour. Shouldn’t be too bad. In the meantime, he could swim around and search for him in the general area. It was harder to hunt while clutching the shell close, he didn’t want it to get stolen, but he managed to get some scraps here and there. No fishing nets involved, thankfully. 

The days kept passing, but Eric saw no sight of the big siren. His tattered fins were growing tired of the constant searching. He swam unsteadily and slowly by the week’s end; moving near the seafloor and taking breaks often. Sleep hadn’t been easy to come by either. He travelled far enough from his usual, comfortable den near the coast’s surface. It was hard to feel safe in the unknown. 

Maybe he should’ve turned back, but he’d hate to go back empty handed. At this rate, it would be unsafe to start travelling all that way in his condition anyway. A soft, distraught chirp rumbled through him. This adventure could’ve been pointless. That big siren may want nothing to do with him even if he does find him. He needed to go back, and that idea made his heart break. 

Through, right now he needed some rest. He hugged the shell to himself and looked around for a place to sleep. The water was a deep blue and unclear. Not much around here except mud, the stray schools of fish that passed by, and a large den in the near distance. There weren’t many choices here, but he hoped this den didn’t belong to a hungry shark. Even swimming the short distance weared down on him, but he made it to the den and flopped against the floor. 

He quickly looked around and chirped quietly. No response, thankfully. He curled in on himself, revelling in his defeat. He should’ve shown his appreciation for his saviour when he had the chance. Hopefully that siren was doing good nowadays. Probably doing better than him. 

The moment he closed his eyes, he promptly passed out. He wasn’t sure for how long, but once he woke up, he found that nothing had changed. Or, he thought nothing had changed. A shocked squeak left him as he realized his prized shell was gone. It must’ve floated away from his arms, but he didn’t see it anywhere. He swam around the den, letting out distressed chirps, and searched high and low. He couldn’t lose his gift on this adventure. Even if he didn’t find the other siren, it would’ve been nice to keep that shell for himself.

It was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Eric slowed down and sat against a rock. He let out a high-pitched whine in sorrow, then another, and another. Until he was weeping the best a creature like him could, with full body shudders making him freeze in his curled up position. He had failed. He wanted to do something right for once. To not be so lonely on his rock by the shore. But in here? He had never felt more alone than ever. 

His cries echoed throughout the den; only him and his pathetic song. All for an audience of no one. That was, until, another cry responded to him. It rippled through the den and shook Eric to his core, low and curious. He looked in fear at the darker part of the den. He wasn’t sure how deep this place went, now that he thought about it. He couldn’t see the den’s end. Another cry echoed in his ears, much louder than the first.

It was a no brainer. He needed to get out of here. With quick reflexes, he began swimming outside to, hopefully, safer waters. He looked back into the dark den, only to see something small shine faintly. His shoulders slumped as his heart dropped. The shell. 

Of course, he could’ve gotten another one somewhere, but his brain told him to save this one from whatever monster was in here. He wanted to not fail at something. Anything. And getting that shell would be it. He quickly went over to the boulder it was wedged under. The waves must’ve pushed it in there; it laid stuck between the wall and the rock. So, he reached in, barely managing to grasp its edges, and pulled as hard as he could. It wouldn’t budge. He shivered as the monster rumbled again and he desperately tried to pull harder. A sudden wave of sand washed over him, making him spiral backwards at the force. He shook off the dust and saw the monster approach from the depths with a powerful swim towards him. While he braced for the worst, his eyes widened as he saw who it was. His saviour.

It was like someone was putting his heart in an unsteady current; going up and down, up and down. He still kept his guard up and prepared to swim away at any moment, but he looked at the other with an odd relief. His saviour grumbled again, tilting his head and staring unfocused at him. Those dull, golden eyes were as big as Eric himself, but seemed hard of sight. 

Eric let out a cautious purr from his chest, a greeting of sorts, and was relieved to hear the other try to reciprocate the tone. Did this siren recognize him? They had a stare off for a moment, before the other moved forward in a slow motion. Eric immediately swam away. Though, he hesitated and continued to watch the other. Not dead yet; he wanted so badly to do what he set out to do. His fear may be there, but he didn’t spend a week travelling to run away again.

The siren introduced himself as The Host. A name given by the humans, but a lot of sirens took the names passerbys gave them. Host kept a distance away from Eric as he explained that this cave was a home to him; one of the only places big enough to house him, actually. Apparently, it was nice to emerge from the deep sea to explore the surface. Eric was surprised this cave was considered “the surface,” but he understood. 

It must be lonely in here, so secluded in a cave or hiding in the deep sea. Though, Eric supposed he was lonely up on his little rock on the surface as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to a fellow siren, so he better get this right. A sudden trilling noise rumbled through him as he wiggled his tail. His present! A -surprisingly- friendly siren, like Host, deserved a present. It couldn’t have been a lost cause, not with how it taunted him by being so close. 

Eric attempted to fish out the seashell from the boulder again. He squeezed in as far as he could between it, wiggling his tail to pull the wedged thing out. Though, he didn’t want to break the precious shell. Not with how hard it had been to get it here. He hissed in frustration; however, he found that it was soon easy to get it. There suddenly was a lot more room to swim through.

Host had lifted up the boulder effortlessly. The heavy rock fit nicely in the palm of his hand, looking like a mere skipping stone. He stared curiously as to what Eric was doing, head tilted and a confused rumble leaving his throat. He set the rock down beside Eric with a quiet thud. 

Such amazing strength left Eric fascinated. Well, maybe he could’ve asked Host to help with this. Surprises were more fun, though. And no wonder he saw those metal scraps after Host saved him. The ship must’ve been torn apart. He was glad he wasn’t meeting the business end of Host’s claws. 

Now with his gift, Eric presented it to Host with a happy purr. Host had to lean closer to squint at it. It was shiny enough for someone with bad eyesight to tell it was special, at least. If Host’s reaction of purring in surprise was anything to go by. Host’s face became tinted a light red as he blushed. 

Eric tilted his head. He made Host blush? Poor siren must not get a lot of gifts. He placed the shell in Host’s hand. It was barely the size of the gigantic siren’s fingertip, but it was still lovely. So fragile looking, and now housing a few scuff marks from the boulder. Not that Host could see them. Probably. Though, such a small gift was getting a big reaction. It was nice that it was a positive thing, but it looked like Host was shell shocked. Eric thought about it, before something clicked. Host was worried that he didn’t have a gift to give back! Eric did think he was a kind soul now, it only seemed right.

He explained that it was okay that Host didn’t give a gift back, but that seemed to be more confusing. Host tilted his head at him and tried to explain himself. It seemed only right to give a gift back, Host believed, but Eric reassured him it was fine. Host apologized for not reciprocating the “feeling,” he kept reassuring him it was okay. Maybe deep sea sirens take gifts much more seriously. 

After a much needed talk, Eric swam forward and patted Host’s hand. All he wanted was to get to know his saviour, not gifts. Material ones, at least- it was a gift to be friendly to Host. Though, perhaps something would be nice.

A shy, soft purr left Eric’s lips. Host listened with a tense posture, only to blink in confusion at the question. Eric really would like to stay a little longer here. His fins were killing him from such a long trip. He joked lightly about the ordeal, while Host looked like he was shot by a harpoon. Still, the big siren gently scooped Eric up in his hands and took him deep into his cave for some well deserved rest. All while staring at Eric with the most intrigued look.

What did a gift mean to the deep sea siren? Eric should figure that out in the future- by giving more gifts, of course!